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samkerrworshipper · 2 months

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initiation pt.3 | barca femeni x reader

warnings: smut 18+ minors dni.

pt.1 -> pt.2

it’s not valentines here anymore but for yall who are/are not celebrating i hope this makes ur day a little bit cheekier ;)

I promise u the freaky stuff is coming but this is the buffer for that lol

Instead of waking up to a warm embrace of Keira and Lucy, you wake up to an empty bed. It takes you a few seconds to take in your surroundings, your body is tangled up in sheets and a duvet. The room is mostly dark besides some light coming in from under the door. You allow yourself to take a deep breath, breathing in the cool air around you and slowly waking yourself up. The ache between your legs is the first thing you feel, it wraps your thighs up like a warm hug and it reignites the previous desire in you as the memories of what you’d experienced only a few hours ago flash through your mind.

If it wasn’t for the bed you were in and the faint sound of moans through the walls of the house you’d probably be a little bit more concerned about your surroundings, but instead the environment you are in only brightens your mood.

It’s definitely not an unpleasant way to wake up, you absorb your surroundings and listen with a light head and fuzzy thoughts as you stretch out across the extremely comfortable mattress, bathing in the absolute serenity that you can feel across your whole body and soul. You’ve been thinking about this night since Lucy had told you about it days ago, stressing about all the different possibilities and things that could happen.

You never, not even in your craziest and wildest dream could have ever concocted some kind of idea that would come anything close to what you’d experienced in the last few hours. From the sounds of it, something was still happening and you’d be damned if you missed out on any of it, so even though it pained you to leave the bed that probably had a thread count higher than the amount of money in your bank account, it was with the hopes that you would get to experience something that was far better than any bed.

You are still as naked as ever, your whole body completely bare as you pushed yourself off the mattress and with unsteady legs onto the floor boards. The combination of the post-orgasm bliss and few hours of rest maKe you feel better than ever and without any struggle you made it to the closed door of the bedroom.

Your skin pricked up, little dots forming against your skin as your exposed body began to feel the effects of being in a room with a fan and aircon on.

You could have taken a sheet or blanket with you as coverage, but you figured that by the noises being produced your companions would be in a similar state of undress and even if they weren’t it wasn’t like they would see anything they already hadn’t.

The hallway you stepped into was empty. Although there were little thready moans coming out from some of the rooms beside your one. Because Lucy had practically carried you into the room you struggled to remember what way to go but you managed to trail your way back to the main room by following the noise that was being emitted.

The sight this time was completely different from beforehand and it took your eyes a little bit to adjust.

There were some people missing, although your brain was still too fogged up to really take account of people, just what was happening around you.

The first sight that catches your eyes is Keira, who has so many hands on her that it’s hard to tell who is who.

Ingrid is the first person you spot, mainly because she’s the least entwined in Keira’s body. She’s got the same strap on that she wore earlier when she was pounding into you, except this time it's being brutally thrusted into Keira’s throat. It’s a pretty sight, Keira’s drool and slobber all over her chin as she repeatedly gags on the strap. Frido is the second person you spot, mainly because her and Ingrid are pretty much next to eachother, the two bestfriends connected by their lips, although it’s not what captures your attention, instead you’re eyes are glued to the suctioned dildo that Frido is riding, her knees bent against the floor, pushing up and down. Your eyes don’t focus on her long, instead searching around Keira. It’s harder to figure out who is behind her, but it’s a process of elimination and spotting different heads of hair and hands. Keira is on all fours with Aitana’s mouth slurping at her from below and Marta’s fingers soundly fucking her from behind. Keira looks so blissed out, like she’s floating on a cloud of dopamine so strong that it could rival drugs.

On the couch is Alexia and Mapi, the two best friends lazily making out whilst their bodies grind down against each other in perfect synchronisation.

Before this, you were fairly sure that scissoring was a social construct, but watching Mapi and Alexia’s hips jolt out again and again is making you reconsider your beliefs.

Lucy, Ona, Jenni and Caro are on the bed, and it’s a sight that you can’t even begin to comprehend.

Ona is laid down on her back on the bed, Jenni grinding down on top of her face whilst Lucy and Caro are down the other end of Ona. At first, you think the two older players are taking both of Ona’s holes, but after a few seconds, and an angle change when Ona’s hips buck, your jaw drops in realisation that the Norwegian and English player are both fucking in and out of the same hole.

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head, you can feel the arousal re building inside you as you watch Caro and Lucy brutally fuck into Ona, pretty much using her to get themselves off. Ona’s body is boneless and unmoving beside her hips which every few thrusts cant up to buck upwards.

You can’t take your eyes off of the sight, it might be rude to stare but in your opinion it would be rude not to admire the complete erotic beauty that is unfolding before your eyes.

“Hola chica.”

The words are directed at you, forcing your eyes away from Ona and to Mapi, whose head has craned backwards to look at you from her spot on top of Alexia’s lap.

There is a thin sheen of sweat across her forrid, her eyes are full of lust and she looks positively feral.

You smile at her, too terrified that if you open up your mouth you’ll say something wrong or let out one of the moans that have built up in your gut from watching Ona.

Your eyes drifted back to Keira on the floor, all three of her holes being used, quite literally having her brains fucked out.

It’s not something that you’ve ever directly desired, but right now it’s all that’s in your mind, you aren’t quite sure if you could handle it, you’ve never taken more then two fingers in your asshole and too be fucked in both fo your other holes at the same time seems like over kill, but watching Keira suddenly makes you so intrigued and suddenly attracted to what she’s enduring.

You don’t know where to go or look, but Mapi ushers you over with her hand and your brain can’t ignore her, so you put one foot in front of the other until you are standing directly in front of the two women.

Alexia smiles at you, her hands are resting on Mapi’s hips, gently helping her to grind against Ale, there isn’t much fervour or energy to it, from what you can tell, it can’t possibly be stimulating enough to put either of them anywhere near the edge, your either wrong or they just don’t mind. There are red splotches up and down Alexia’s chest, little dots and tiny teeth marks that are splattered out across Alexia’s chest and neck.

Mapi has some darker, purple marks across her neck, less than Alexia but far more noticeable.

“How’d you sleep bebita? You feeling rested and up for some more fun?”

It’s bewildering to you how level headed Mapi is considering the situation she’s in. You think about how you would behave if you were in her situation and you are fairly certain it wouldn’t be anywhere near as composed.

“Hoping I didn’t miss out on much.”

Mapi smirks, her lips parting and letting out a breathy moan as Alexia pulls her hips down harder, trying to get her own friction against her clit.

“I’m sure we can find some ways for you to make up for lost time. Come sit down next to Ale, I’m sure she’ll be able to wake you up.”

You drop your body down beside Alexia on the couch, unsure what to do but much happier with the closer proximity.

“Look at Kei, look at how good she’s being, would you like to be used like that?”

Alexia leans down to whisper the words into your ear, her voice low and drawn out.

You bite your lip, happy to let your eyes stray back to Keira, Ingrid is no longer in her mouth and Marta is no longer in her ass, instead Keira is now bouncing up and down on Ingrid’s strap, Ingrid jack-hammering into her with absolutely no mercy.

Keira looks pretty fucked out, you’ve got a better view of her face and body now that it’s not so occupied with so many hands and people.

Her mouth is permanently open, deep moans leaving her mouth every time Ingrid thrusts up into her, the other thing that catches your eye is the way that Keira’s tits bounce up and down with every single movement, her nipples are risen and hard and her right breast has a big red mark on the side of it.

Keira’s eyes are glazed over, but there’s still some form of cheekiness behind them, just from the sight of her you can tell that she’s having the most fun that you’ve seen her have in months, that she’s so incredibly at peace with Ingrid all over her.

One of Alexia’s hands fall from Mapi’s hip, down to you knee first, gently coaxing your legs apart before trailing her hand up.

You look down for a few seconds, before Alexia’s mouth is back pressed against your ears.

“Look at Oni, she’s been such a brat tonight, look how’s she’s getting fucked, look at all those bruises on her, you don’t want that do you? Don’t want to be filled up but on the edge all night, right? Little Oni thought it would be smart co cum without permission so now she has to deal with Lucia and Caro stretching her out with no relief. You don’t want that do you? You’ll be our good girl, sí?”

Your eyes lift up to Ona, her body being brutally used by Lucy, Jenni and Caro. Her pussy is still being stretched by the two women, and to think that she’s going through it without any finish is eye opening to you and also terrifying.

“Yes, Ale.”

Alexia smirks against your earlobe, her lips opening to suck down on the skin whilst her hand trailed up and down the bottom of your stomach.

“Such a good girl, so perfect, so well behaved.”

Alexia’s hand creeps down further, her lips tugging on your earlobe whilst she cups your mound, her ring and middle finger dipping between your folds for half a second to collect some of the wetness.

Alexia pulls it up to your face and after a particularly harsh nip to your ear that has your lips falling open, and Alexia’s fingers in your mouth.

Without any prompting, you suck your taste off of her, the salty and slightly sweet flavour welcome on your tongue.

“Suck.”

Alexia’s fingers are too big for your mouth, something you begin to realise as she slowly attempts to push her fingers in deeper.

By the time they’re at the back of your mouth you’re struggling to breathe, having to switch to your nasal passage to take in oxygen. By the time they’ve hit the back of your throat you are trying your hardest not to gag and to suck on them. Alexia’s lips are a distraction, her mouth has worked its way down from your earlobe and to the sensitive spot on your neck. Your moans are muffled by Alexia’s fingers, two thirds of her fingers as deep in your mouth as they can get.

It’s when your jaw relaxes for the two first knuckles that she decides it's the perfect time to force the final third in.

You gag almost immediately, your throat tightening and struggling to accommodate the extra length that your throat didn’t have the room for.

You tried to slacken your jaw, tried to relax your throat, it was obvious though that Alexia’s fingers were too long.

You are so desperate to please her, to prove that you are her good girl, that you will do anything that she wants or asks you to do, so you don’t end up with a fate similar to Ona’s, so even though you are gagging and struggling to breathe properly you push through, sucking on Alexia’s fingers just as she’d ordered.

Your own drool is dripping down your jaw, you’re certain of it, it’s something that you can’t afford to care or think about though, your focus is solely on Alexia’s fingers and mouth.

Just as you’ve begun to feel slightly lightheaded from the shallow bits of oxygen that you are managing to intake Alexia’s fingers are pulled from your mouth, and whilst you are occupied with gasping for air and Alexia’s fingers shoot right down to inbetween your legs.

Your body lurches at the sudden contact, hips chasing Alexia’s hand desperately.

Alexia allows the movement, her fingers trace the outside of your lips, never even coming close to touching you where you need her most.

“Look at Mapi, look at how desperate she is, using me for her own pleasure. All because of you bebita, all because of how worked up you got her earlier, she’s such a filthy whore for you, isn’t that right Maria?”

Mapi’s head rocks forward to look at you, a big smirk on her face, telling you that what Alexia is saying is true, that some part of whatever she’s experiencing is due to you.

“Are you going to make her come before you hand her off or are you going to make her wait.”

Mapi’s eyes stay locked to your own, even though it’s clear the question isn’t meant for you.

Alexia removes her mouth from your neck, just to stare at you in deliberation out of her peripherals.

“What do you think? Should we reward our good girl, or make her wait? You’d look so pretty coming all over my fingers bebita, but maybe I should make you wait for Lucia? Just so I can watch you get fucked out by her.”

You aren’t sure what you want, with Alexia putting both offers out on the table and making them both sound good, you’re too focused on Alexia’s hand dipping in and out of your pussy to truly comprehend what’s being said.

When Alexia’s fingertips finally make contact with your clit everything you’d begun to process is completely erased from your brain, every single one of your brain cells is completely captured by the sensation of Alexia’s slicked fingers finally touching you where you’ve been so desperately needing her.

“How does she feel bebita, she touching you where you need it?”

You nod your head at Mapi, more than happy to deal with a little bit of teasing if it means that you continue getting what you want.

When Alexia’s fingers migrate further down, her roughened palm moving down with her fingers to grind down against your clit as her fingers tease your hole you moan, louder than you think you ever have.

Alexia’s palm is wonderful, but her fingers slowly slipping into your hole, inch by inch similar to how they did your mouth, is indescribable.

You’re still tight and oversensitive from your previous orgasms, so every single move, every twitch of Alexia’s hand sends shocks through you.

Her pace is similar to the pace that Mapi has set on top of her, fast but thorough, Mapi’s hips gyrating against down against Alexia haphazardly, but with obvious amounts of detail, she’s searching for the friction against her clit, and she knows where she has to angle herself to find it.

Alexia pushes her palm down against your clit, forcing your legs as wide as she can from her spot beside you, her head cocked to the side so she has a good angle of both Mapi and you.

“Watch Oni bebita, that’ll be you soon enough, once she’s had the brat fucked out of her it’ll be your turn. That’s what happens to little sluts who think they know better, who think that they will get away with being disobedient. You’re a good girl though, and if you keep acting like one I’m sure Jenni and Lucia will be happy to reward you, in fact, if you keep being good for me I’m sure that we can sort out any kind of reward you’d like, how does that sound?”

Your eyes lift up to Ona, it’s a struggle to keep them open with Alexia’s constant pace in and out of you but for the sake of obeying Alexia, you do as she’s asked and watch Ona.

Jenni’s no longer balanced on top of her face, now she’s lying to the side of Ona, her hands pinching down on her nipples so hard that there are tears in Ona’s eyes over the torture she’s being subjected to.

Lucy and Caro are no longer pounding into Ona, instead they’ve both pulled out and Lucy’s strap has been thrown to the side, she’s currently being fucked by Caro, right in front of Ona’s eyes, just another form of teasing thrown her way you assume.

“Tell me what you want as a reward, bebita, anything you want you can have.”

It feels like Alexia is offering you the whole world, and yet you can’t even begin to formulate what it is that you want, because there are infinite possibilities and different scenarios that you want to try, but there is one thing that springs to the forefront of your mind, something that’s been buried deep in your mind ever since Keira’s lips had touched yours for the first time just a couple of hours ago.

“Wanna sit on Kei’s face.”

Alexia’s eyebrows raise in intrigue.

“Do you now? Well you prove to me that you can be good and I certainly think that can be arranged, now how about you focus a little bit harder on my fingers so I can focus a little bit more on Maria here, aprobado?”

You nod your head furiously, grinding your hips down onto Alexia’s fingers with motivation.

“No cumming without permission bebita, let me know when you’re close.”

You nod at Alexia, honestly too consumed with the feeling of Alexia’s finger tips repetitively hitting the walls of your insides. When she angles them just right, the pads of her two fingers brushing against your sweet spot, your spine shudders, all the wonderful sensations spreading out across your body.

Alexia’s fingers, whilst they may have struggled to fit in your mouth, they have absolutely zero problems fucking in and out of your pussy, your hole is practically sucking them in with every thrust, trying it’s very hardest to cling onto the feeling of Alexia.

With her palm pushing down against your clit, and your eyes on Keira, it doesn’t take you long to get close to the edge. Keira’s body is limp, her back pressed to Ingrid’s front whilst Ingrid fucks her brutally in reverse cowgirl.

When Keira screams, her own orgasm taking over, you are completely enthralled by the sight, everyone in the rooms seems to be. The noises leaving Keira’s mouth are so loud and so erotic, if you tried you could probably orgasm purely off of them.

Ingrid’s pace slows, but doesn’t come to a full stop, the Norwegian bouncing Keira up and down slowly, holding onto her hips and helping her to ride out her high.

Mapi apparently, isn’t far behind her, the Zaragozan’s moans suddenly becoming a lot quicker and louder, before you miss anything you pull your eyes from Keira, receiving immediate gratification in the form of Mapi, whose hips are stalled, her clit pressed down against Alexia’s as her body and coil in her stomach shatter.

It’s a rare moment where you see Alexia’s confident and composed facade fall. Alexia is beaming, pressing soft kisses to Mapi’s collar bone well before her orgasm hits, murmuring soft spanish words into her skin, very subtly thrusting her own hips up into Mapi, giving her a longer orgasm and something more to rut down against.

“Alexia-I’m close.”

With all the noises and people around you, it’s hard for you not to be on the edge. Alexia’s hand stops immediately, her palm lifting from your clit and fingers slowly withdrawing. It’s sad, being in a room full of people experiencing pleasure and having yours revoked, although you thank the lords that you aren’t Ona, that you aren’t being subjected to the pure pain and hell that she’s being put through.

You also suppose that if Ona wasn’t somewhat okay with it then it wouldn’t be happening, and if she was truly in pain she would safe word. That thought only seems to make you more aroused, the realisation that Ona, to some extent, is getting off on what she’s experiencing.

“Such a good job, bebita, letting me know when you're close. Once Keira has come down I’m sure she’ll have no problems fulfilling that little reward of yours.”

———————————————————————

lol i’m not one to normally leave things at a cliff hanger buttttttt yk gotta keep yall coming back somehow lol xoxo

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wreckmetoji · 1 year

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Close to Heaven

A fic in which Vash finally gets what he’s been yearning for and then some.

↳ Vash the Stampede/Reader

↳ Nicholas D. Wolfwood/Reader

content warning. gender-neutral pronouns, afab reader, mild overstimulation, unprotected sex, profanity, alien anatomy, whatever the plant equivalent of a creampie is, shameless smut, fluff, slight angst, wolfwood tops vash and vash tops you, everyone is winning

I recommend reading Wanna Be Yours for context 7.2k words

Life was unforgiving, there was no such thing as being dealt a good hand. At least, not unless it was at the expense of another person. Vash knew this better than anyone, but long ago had he accepted he wasn't here to have a good life. He was here to fix what was broken, help the people that needed it, and while that didn't always go as planned, he always tried his best.

You just pick yourself and dust yourself off, that's what I admire about you the most, Vash. Even eight months later, Vash could still hear your voice in the back of his head when he went on with his daily life. He'd hear you chide him while he poorly patched himself up in alleyways, he'd hear you tell him to eat more when he denied himself of decent meals, or yell at him to get up and keep going when he fell. It wasn't easy, of course it wasn't, making that decision to leave. He wanted you to have the best life he couldn't give you, and if you managed to find that happiness, then he was more than willing to cut his losses and hope that one day he would run into you, see you flourishing and happy and alive. So, he continued, hopping from one town to the other, helping when and where he could. Vash heaved a sigh, pushing his way through the doors of the tavern he was staying in. Today had been a bust, nearly managing to get roped into an encounter with July Military Police, he was completely unable to secure himself a vehicle or mode of transportation out of the city. He was running low on money, he would really only feasibly be able to stay at this inn a couple more days before he would need to start running small jobs around the city. That would surely be risky in itself, knowing that if he were to be exposed to the general public for longer than a couple of hours, someone was bound to try and turn him in. He'd leave tomorrow, even if it was by foot. Shuffling over to the bar, he plopped down in one of the tall stools, waving at the barkeeper he had come to enjoy chatting with over the last few days. She was friendly, older, definitely making more of her money off of regulars and locals than tips and travelers. She had mentioned it was refreshing to see a new face that wasn't sour. "Hey Nadina," Vash greeted as she sauntered over, glass and cloth in hand, "Things been busy today?" This earned him a playful scoff, to which he chuckled at, knowing the two occupied tables covered in cards and bottle caps were enough of a tell. "If it was busy, I wouldn't have to work here every day," She quipped, pouring a pint for Vash without him even asking, "Did have an interesting fella come in today, though." Smiling, Vash accepted the drink from her, already pulling out a couple of bills from his pocket to place on the counter in front of her. He lifted the glass to his lips, humming inquisitively to her previous statement. "Yeah," She continued, giving him an unimpressed up and down, "Said he was looking for you." Ah. Maybe he would have to leave a bit earlier than expected, if the Military Police were already this hot on his tail he was bound to be cornered in his rented room. That would get messy, and he wouldn't want poor Nadina to fork up a bunch of nonexistent money for property damages he was inadvertently the cause of. "Did... They say why they were looking for me?" He dared question, giving her a sheepish smile. "No, just mentioned you by name, described you. Didn't even introduce himself, but I'm sure you could spot him in a crowd," She mused, shining up some spare glasses behind the counter, "Had this massive cross he was carrying around. Must've thought himself a priest or something. Wouldn't be able to tell by lookin' at him though, sketchy lookin' bastard." Suddenly, his smile was gone. Vash swallowed, eyes wide in disbelief as he stared at Nadina. She caught this, her hands pausing their ministrations as they exchanged stares. Vash broke the silence first, his voice breathy and barely above a whisper. "Did he have anyone with him?" Nadina didn't answer, not at first, obviously too caught up in his immediate reaction. After he cleared his throat, taking another long sip of his beer, she pursed her lips and quirked a brow. "No, he didn't have anyone with him," She crossed her arms, leaning against the back counter, "You know him then?" With a nod, he threw back the rest of his beer, placing it back on the counter with a thunk. He decidedly left out all and every detail of who that stranger was or how he knew him, mind reeling as to what he was doing around here looking for Vash. His head spun, and it definitely wasn't from the less than seven percent beer Nadina had so graciously poured for him. "Thanks for the drink Nadina, think I'm gonna hit the sack early though." He didn't give her a chance to interject, taking out an extra bill from his pocket and slapping it down on the counter. A tip, but also hopefully buying her silence. She nodded, taking the pile of bills and pocketing them in her half apron as Vash gave another friendly wave, crossing the pub floor and heading up the old metal staircase. Fuck. Wolfwood was here, and he was looking for him, but most importantly, he didn't have you. Did he leave you behind? Were you hurt? Did he lose you? It had been at least eight months, a lot can happen in that amount of time. Maybe the two of you split up, and he was worrying his head about nothing at all. Still, he couldn't shake the bad feeling he had. Part of him wanted to find Wolfwood, ask what happened, if you were safe, but the other part of him didn't know if he wanted that answer. Seeing him would only serve as a reminder of what he had to let go anyways. Unlocking his room, bumping his metal arm into the heavy material to force it open– perks of renting one of the cheapest rooms in town– Vash entered the small space, leaving it opened a crack. He wasn't going to be staying long, and he didn't have much to gather up. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could avoid the police and secure a ticket for the last bus out of here. It wasn't too late, the sun now just peaking over the dunes in the distance. Vash shoved his sleepwear in his bag, yanking the cords shut and swinging it over his shoulder. He'd cut his losses on paying for the room tonight, and besides, if things went sideways he could always sneak his way back in without the stress of trespassing. He had managed to sneak past the bar without Nadina noticing him, or maybe she did and just decided not to say anything. She was a perceptive woman, nothing slipped past her, so maybe Vash was foolish for thinking he could. He pushed his way through the doors, setting a brisk pace that didn't look too suspicious as to garner unwanted attention, adjusting the straps of the bag on his shoulder as he stepped through the weighted double doors of the shoddy bus station. The clerk was in the middle of cashing out as Vash ran up to the till, putting down a little more money than necessary just to secure his ticket in case the gentleman was in a poor mood. Being eyed up and down never got easier. It was always fifty fifty on whether he had to run if they recognized him, or if they just thought he was some weirdo. "A ticket– please! A ticket please. Are there any seats on the last bus?" He was sure the desperation was even more suspicious, but he couldn't care. Not right now, at least. "It doesn't matter where it's going." The man grunted in response, taking the money– all the money– that had been placed on the counter in front of him. He scribbled something down on his receipt paper, tearing it off and clipping it to the bus ticket he then handed over. Vash smiled gratefully, brows upturned, before turning on his heel and speed walking out the door. People were lined up in front of the doors, already boarding. At least he wasn't going to waste any time. He sucked in a deep breath, stepping forward when the line moved up, his eyes scanning the crowds in the streets to make sure he wasn't picked out. And then he saw an apparition. And apparition, or an angel. Off to the side, two or three buildings down, back facing him but he could recognize it anywhere. He could point it out with no doubts, the presence you radiated was something he still constantly saw in his dreams. He had spent so many nights laying next to you, how could he forget about all of that in a measly eight-or-so months? His breath was caught in his throat, lungs feeling tight and his eyes stung. Suddenly everything hurt, his heart, his eyes, his muscles, he couldn't move. You were talking to an older man, his brows furrowed as he looked up and around. He pointed his finger towards Vash, and everything moved so slow. You turned, eyes wide, and he could see the tears welling up from where he was standing. You were beautiful, so so beautiful, hair a bit longer than he had remembered, new clothes he hadn't ever seen before, but... You were the same. The same lips he had traced with his thumb, the same cheeks he had squished in his hands, the same eyes he could stare into for hours, just watching every sparkle and light flare every time you talked about nothing in particular. Then your mouth moved. He couldn't hear it, but he could see it plain as day. Vash? He watched you, watched as you took one slow step forward, then another, then another, steps slowly increasing in pace until you were running full sprint towards him. He was now stood in front of the open doors of the bus, ticket gripped so tightly in his still–flesh hand that it was barely legible. He didn't get a chance, didn't get a chance to step onto the bus, didn't get a chance to say anything to you, didn't get a chance to pull away or run like he thought he wanted to. Not before you were hurling yourself into him, arms wrapped so tightly around him he thought you were trying to crush every bone in his body. The impact made him huff through parted lips, cerulean eyes wide and glossy behind tinted glasses. You said something, something he couldn't hear with how hard you had shoved your face into the fabric of his jacket. The bus driver called out, catching his attention. He said something along the lines of are you getting on, and Vash didn't even register the fact he was shaking his head no. All he registered were the bus doors closing, and his shaky hands coming around and resting on your back. "You're so stupid!" You shouted, sobbing into his shirt. Your shoulders shook, your body trembled, and he could feel the wet of your tears seeping through the fabric. "You're so stupid and I'll never forgive you!" There were so many things he wanted to say in response. I missed you so much. Every day without you felt too long. You're my everything. None of it came out, he tried. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a pathetic, choked out cry of your name. You looked up at him, and he watched as his own tears cascading down his face landed on your cheeks. His fingers fisted the back of your shirt, his arms starting to quiver, his glasses fogging up. Your hands reached up, pushing his glasses up into his hair, then sliding back down to rest on his cheeks. He leaned down, pressing his forehead up against yours as you whispered, "I never stopped looking for you." Vash kissed you, now for the second time, but instead of grief and distress and sorrow, there was relief. Comfort. Solace. He kissed you, and this time you kissed him back. You pushed your soft, beautiful lips up into his, finally letting go of all the heartache you had evidently been carrying with you for the eight months since he had left you. He pulled back, only for a second to look into your eyes, before he kissed you again, and again, and again. He kissed you breathless, his hands coming up to cup your face, mimicking how you were holding him, only pulling back far enough so he could see you. You still shared your breaths, shared the heat radiating off of each others' faces, shared wet tear stained cheeks. You were even more breathtaking than he remembered, the way your wet eyes shone in the setting sun, how your lashes clumped together, your sentimental smile enough to make him swoon. "You two are making a scene," Vash heard from behind him, lips parting as he snapped away from you. Wolfwood stood with a stern look, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he stared at Vash over his glasses, "July police are in town right? Maybe not a good idea." To say he was confused would be an understatement, eyes flickering over to you when you muttered a meek apology, an embarrassed smile on your lips and red ears. Vash opened his mouth to speak, apologize, his heart threatening to break all over again until Wolfwood shrugged, adjusting the cross slung over his shoulder and rolling his eyes. "Just save it for later. Good to see you Spikey," He nodded, walking towards the tavern Vash was staying at, "You got a room, right? Let's go, I could use a drink. Walked through the entire town all damn day." Vash furrowed his brows, mouth opening to speak, before he felt you grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers between his. He looked down at you, expression somewhere between confusion and distress, but you smiled and shook your head, giving him a small tug as you pulled him along behind Wolfwood. "I'll explain. It's okay." He complied, following wordlessly until the three of you had entered through the tavern doors. Nadina looked in his direction, her eyes widening slightly before smiling. "Welcome back," She greeted, holding up three fingers inquisitively. The three of you nodded in unison. "Comin' up." The three of you sat, mostly in silence until Nadina came over with the drinks. Vash didn't miss the way she eyed up Wolfwood, and then yourself, especially with how tight you were holding Vash's still flesh hand. Once she had gone back to the bar, starting casual conversation with other patrons, did you begin talking. "I don't want you to feel like I'm deceiving you," You began, eyes everywhere but on him, "I'm... We're still a thing." You gestured between yourself and Wolfwood with a finger, earning a curt nod from the priest as he slugged back his drink. He felt his heart ache again, something he hadn't felt in a while. He smiled, disingenuous and sad. He should have known better, Nadina had told him it was Wolfwood looking for him after all. The second he saw you, he should have known Wolfwood would have been in tow. He should have gotten on that bus, he shouldn't have froze the second he saw you. "But," You continued, "The night everything... The night you left, I told Nick about what happened. I told him you kissed me, I told him you left, and..." Your tiny voice tapered off, and he could see you fighting back tears. He wanted to reach up, wanted to cup your cheek and brush the cool metal of his lost-technology hand under your eye to catch the wet before it trailed down your cheek. He clenched his fist, forcing back the urge, glancing over at Wolfwood who really only seemed to be half interested in the conversation. You sighed, calling his attention back to you. "I told him that I care about you Vash. So much, and... He was okay with that." Vash furrowed his brows, lips parted in visible confusion. You took a deep breath, clearing your throat a bit. "I failed to realize that I had feelings for you too, but I felt bad already being committed to... this," Once again gesturing between Wolfwood and yourself, "We talked about it. Talked about having you join us, or at least try things out and see how they go." You held your palm out flat, pointing towards Wolfwood as he slowly nodded. "So– you– you aren't mad at me then?" Vash asked towards Wolfwood. The tanned man scoffed, leaning forwards on the table as he stared at Vash. "You aren't seeming to get it, so I'll spell it out for you Blondie," Wolfwood tapped his index finger on the table, "Us. All three of us. Relationship, or whatever the fuck you wanna consider it." It took a moment for Vash to register what you both were saying, brows furrowing again as he glanced back at you, then Wolfwood again, earning a nonchalant shrug as he grabbed at the glass sitting in front of you, tipping it back and drinking half the contents. You didn't seem to notice, or you did and simply didn't care, your thumb rubbing busy circles into the back of his partially gloved hand. "So," Vash cleared his throat, scooting a bit closer to you in his seat, "You... Both of you... want...?" "You're both easy on the eyes, 'n I don't mind sharing," Wolfwood cut in unabashedly, both yours and Vash's cheeks heating in surprise at his boldness. "Both my type too, lucky me." He sparked up a cigarette, hanging his head over the back of his chair as he blew smoke up and away from the conversation being had. Vash was quiet, taking in all the information and emotion, the relief and the anxiety, as he looked back and forth between you and Wolfwood. "It's okay if that's not something you want, Vash," You smiled, understanding and sweet, "I can reimburse you for the bus ticket, and you can leave first thing–" "No!" He took his hand from your grasp, holding them both up to stop you from speaking. "No, I– of course, of course I want this but, I mean... Are you two sure?" Wolfwood and you chuckled in unison, your hand coming down to settle on his bouncing knee. He remembered when you used to do that, when you would be in a pub or a diner and a bounty hunter would walk in, how you would place your hand over his restless knee or hold his arm, and suddenly any anxiety he had about the situation dissipated into thin air. He smiled, laughing a small bittersweet laugh, and finally picking up his drink. Vash would let himself be selfish, he would let himself have you, have Wolfwood, even if something could go horribly wrong tomorrow, or the next day, he would enjoy you now. "Okay. Yeah, okay!" His agreeance called for a celebration, your hand going to reach for your now empty glass of beer, slapping Wolfwoods arm in faux outrage. You laughed, and Wolfwood waved your hand away, insisting that he would buy you another one. You argued, bickering with him in good fun about how you have no money, I'm the one paying, and Vash laughed. A hearty, genuine, full laugh that used his entire diaphragm. It turned heads, and the smile that reached his eyes made you melt. The argument in front of him dissipated, your quick hands grabbing the empty on the glasses and heading over to the bar. Vash watched you leave, the smile never leaving his eyes as his heart swelled inside his chest. It almost felt like too much, almost felt overwhelming, seeing you so easily chatter with Nadina as she prepared more drinks for the three of you. He turned his head, giving Wolfwood such a soft expression he swore he could see his sun–kissed neck and ears go red. The night carried on, more drinks and more laughs and more playful bickering, the occasional hand on your knee, or his thigh, or feeling Wolfwood bump his leg with his own. The three of you had managed to stay up until closing, getting ushered upstairs by Nadina to the room Vash had rented. All three of you had more than enough to drink, considering at some point every single person had tripped going up. Vash shoulder checked his door after inserting the key, chucking his bag down beside the door. The bed was small, probably much too small for three people comfortably since it could barely be considered a full. A heavy thunk gathered his attention long enough to see Wolfwood resting The Punisher up against the wall in front of the foot of the bed. You giggled, and he smiled, watching you lay back onto the bed. Vash closed the door, shucking his coat, glasses, and holster off and tossing them over the desk in the corner, before flopping down on his stomach next to you. His metal arm laid over your torso, mechanical thumb running gentle circles into your sides. It was sweet, it was how things should have gone before, maybe this is just setting things right– "Move over," Wolfwood complained, and when Vash looked up he could see the tanned man throwing his pants into a crumpled pile in the corner with the rest of his clothes. Really, Vash hadn't even noticed him strip, only to be left in his boxer briefs. His cheeks flushed red, quickly averting his eyes as he readjusted himself and you on the bed so you were now laying properly. Vash had wedged himself back against the wall, your back pressed to his front, as Wolfwood climbed in to join. "Tight fuckin' fit," Wolfwood grunted, and Vash would have been embarrassed at his phrasing if you hadn't laughed at him and playfully swatted his chest. Considering the limited space, the three of you had to shuffle around for a bit to get comfortable, one of you earning an elbow to somewhere sensitive, or a knee to the thigh, but finally everything settled into a comfortable position. Wolfwood laid on his back, arm outstretched for both you and Vash to rest your heads on, your back to his side, face to face with Vash. It didn't take long for Wolfwood to doze off, his light-sleep snoring filling the otherwise empty room. Vash tried to sleep, really he did, but he couldn't keep his eyes off of you. He couldn't stop staring at the curve of your jaw, the halo of hair on the arm and pillow below you, and your beautiful dazzling eyes. This time, he didn't have to shy away when you met his gaze. This time, he could stare and stare until he went blind. And, as enamored with you as he was, he could see that same infatuation as you stared back. "Hey," You whispered, closing your eyes as his metallic hand brushed a strand of hair behind your ears. "Hey." Those were the only words you exchanged, afraid you might wake up your sleeping companion. That didn't stop you grinning from ear to ear, though, and it didn't stop him from shuffling impossibly closer, or his cold mechanical hand running up and down your side, slowly skating up. He traced a trail with his fingertips, going from your side, to your back, up your arm, brushing over your collarbone, and up your neck. It was feather light, scared that if he pressed any harder you would disappear into a cloud of smoke. His fingers stopped at your chin, index finger gently hooked underneath, while his thumb traced the outline of your lips. Vash sucked in a deep breath, half lidded cyan eyes staying locked on the slight part of your mouth as you kissed the pad of his metal thumb. He exhaled in a puff, watching the hairs to the side of your face shift in place. "This doesn't feel real," He admitted in a whisper, barely audible had you not been mere inches away from him, "I feel like I don't deserve this." Frowning, you pressed another kiss to his hand, and he vaguely registered the warmth of your palm on the side of his neck. It was as gentle as a mayfly's wing, and had he not seen your arm move, he would have missed it. The same hand reached out, grasping his wrist and pulling it away from your face. Vash swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, his still tipsy mind hazy as you leaned in and placed your petal soft lips on the corner of his mouth. It wasn't enough, he could never get enough, he thought as he turned his head, greedily taking you in and kissing you so gently. His eyes fell closed, fingers threading between yours. Shifting slightly, his other hand came up from beneath him, cupping the back of your neck. It was slow, languid, gentle, like you both had all the time in the world to simply exist with each other. Vash wanted to make up for lost time, apologize for leaving you in that motel room, tell you how much he missed you, but instead he spoke with his actions. He kissed you tenderly, lovingly, over and over again, his hands holding you so close you might think it was his last night alive. "I never stopped thinking about you," He whispered between kisses, turning you over on your back. He propped himself up, torso hovering over you as he kissed your cheek, nose, jaw, the shell of your ear. The sigh you breathed had him closing his eyes, scrunching his brow and committing it to memory. Untangling his fingers from yours, his metal hand reached down, firmly grasping your hip as his lips moved down. He wanted to do this for so long, shower you in love and affection, to be showered in love and affection back. He wanted to give and take and exist in a world that was entirely you. When his lips came back up, there was more intensity behind his kisses, welcoming the part of your mouth with his own. Your mouth was warm, welcoming, and he could taste the lingering booze left behind when he pressed his tongue into your own. There was a whine, and it took him longer than it should have to realize it came from him, pulling back quickly when he felt a shift in the bed beside the two of you. A thick strand of saliva kept your mouths connected as he glanced over, seeing Wolfwood tugging his arm back and tucking it behind his head. Vash stilled, waited, and when he heard the telltale snores again, he was back on your lips in an instant. "Vash," You breathed into him, your hands grabbing the back of his shirt and fisting the material in your palms, "It's okay, I'm not going anywhere." You sounded amused, and his fingers gripped you just a little bit tighter as he kissed you just a little bit harder. "I know." But he didn't know. He didn't know when would be the last moments he spent with you, and he didn't want you to slip between his fingers again. He didn't want to dance around his feelings to keep you safe when neither of your futures were guaranteed tomorrow. So, instead of pulling back when you patted and rubbed his back, he slipped between your legs, his hands grabbing at your thighs and pulling you into him, adjusting your position. He hunched over you, forearms resting beside your head as he took more and more, stealing the breath from your lungs, soaking in your tiny whines and insincere protests. There was a fire in the pit of his stomach, and everything about you, everything you did, stoked the flame, made it burn brighter, hotter. Vash didn't know where this boldness came from, brushing your bangs back from your face and kissing you once more, the heat of his hand searing your skin as he dipped his fingers just below the band of your shorts, hiking your leg up around his waist. Immediately met with eager compliance, Vash smiled against you and rubbed an affectionate stroke on your outer thigh. His hand moved up, further and further until his fingers were tangled in the strands of your hair. He lowered himself, just a bit, but it was enough to have his pelvis rub up into you. The moan you let out was less quiet, but he couldn't care less when you were pulling him so much closer, arching your hips to press up into him. He shuddered, a small hiss making it past his teeth as you rubbed up into him. He was already getting so worked up and he didn't even know if you would be okay with something so different, something that could send you running. "I want you," He sighed into your temple, cheeks flushing, "Just... Promise you'll try to keep an open mind?" He was suddenly bashful, watching your brow quirk at his request. "Wha– why?" "It's– my, ahem... It's a little different than, uhm–" Vash paused, a shiver wracking up his spine when you reached down and palmed the front of his pants. You kissed him, obviously not swayed by his lack of human anatomy– he didn't know why he expected anything less from the person that would patch him up and nurse his hard to reach wounds. He relaxed into your touch, cock pulsing in its confines as you flattened your palm and stroked up and down the front of his pants, arms shaking as he pulled back from you with a sheepish smile. "Sensitive," He explained, fingers pushing up the hem of your shirt until you lifted your arms, allowing him to pull the fabric off and toss it behind him and onto the floor. His eyes widened, before softening, hands clutching at your sides and moving up and down soothingly. "Beautiful." Both hands, metal and flesh, gripped your ribcage, thumbing over the perk of your nipples. You reaction was immediate, back arching, one hand flying to cover your mouth. Vash exhaled, breathing ragged as he repeated the action, this time watching your face contort, trying your best to keep quiet and not wake Wolfwood next to you. He pinched your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, gently rolling them in his grasp. Your airy moans urged his own whine, his lips replacing one of his hands, working you just a little faster. Hands moved, clothing was discarded, and by the time Vash had gotten his senses about him, you were in nothing but your underwear, urging him to tug his shirt over his head and throw it into the dark with the rest of your clothes. Vash knows he was supposed to savor this, commit it to memory, but your wandering hand stroking his cheeks, pulling his hair, pawing at the front of his pants, had all of his senses kicked into overdrive. You were beautiful, more so than he had ever imagined, and he didn't want to wait another second to have you. The warm pad of his thumb came up, pressing into your bottom lip, urging you to open up for him. He kissed you, more tongue than lips, while his metal hand caressed the innermost part of your thighs, the tips of his fingers teasing up against your clothed clit. When you moaned into his mouth, he moaned with you, the sound less quiet than desired and entirely debauched. Handling you with utmost care, his hand peeled your underwear to the side. Vash was surprised when you didn't flinch at the cold– but then again he was probably warmed by your body heat– as he dipped his fingers into just slightly, coming back up to circle your clit. Sounds he didn't think he would ever get to hear cascaded from your lips, and he greedily lapped them up like his last meal. Occasionally returning your noises with a choked out moan or breathy whine, his fingers trailed back down, one finger slowly dipping into your heat. When you gasped into him, he curled his finger up slowly, pulling back before pushing in a second. You were soaked, and your combined groan echoed off the walls of your small shared room. "Having all the fun without me," Broke the silence, hands on Vash's hips from behind making him startle out a high pitched eep! "Got room for another?" In all honesty, Vash hadn't even noticed Wolfwood move, and he wondered if it's because he was so wrapped up in you, or if Wolfwood was really that quiet. His cheeks flushed a deeper red, if that was even possible, when he glanced down, watching Wolfwood press his tented boxers up and into his ass. Cerulean eyes shot back up, like a deer in the headlights as Wolfwood ran a hand up his bare spine slowly. Vash turned to glance at you, only to see you biting your lip to suppress a shy grin, then back at Wolfwood. He nodded, barely finished the action of agreeing before he was being grabbed by the back of the neck and tugged up. Back to his chest, Wolfwood moved his hand around his neck to cup his jaw, pulling him into a mind-numbing kiss. His lips were rougher, chapped, and he could taste the leftover nicotine lingering on his breath when his mouth was pried open by his tongue. Vash moaned, eyes rolling back into his skull when Wolfwood reached around with his other hand, cupping the front of his pants and giving a gentle squeeze. Back arching, Vash bucked into his hand, pulling back to fix Wolfwood with a half lidded, embarrassed expression. "It's... it's different," Vash explained again, earning a snicker in response. "You got a hole?" His expression fell, eyes wide in shock, nodding slowly. "We're all good then." He should've been embarrassed, really. Should've been embarrassed that Wolfwood speaking to him so directly made his cock twitch, or embarrassed by the fact when he glanced over you were touching yourself below him, but he couldn't. He locked eyes with you, his breath catching in his throat as you pushed yourself up on your forearms. You sat up on your knees, hands holding his waist as you kissed him again. Being pulled back and forth made his head spin, and he didn't know who was unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down his hips, but every touch and sensation and movement had him absolutely delirious. A hand was on his face again, Wolfwood squishing his cheeks to open his mouth and pull him back for another debauched, sloppy kiss. He didn't have time to be bashful about his state of undress, but the way you gasped when his pants and boxers had been pulled to his knees had his body tensing. Wolfwood seemed intrigued, parting only far enough to glance down. Vash slapped his hands over his face, not daring to peek through the cracks of his fingers. "Vash," You breathed, a yelp leaving his lips when he felt your smaller hand grasp him, "You're so gorgeous." Finally, Vash had gathered the courage to look at you from behind his hands, seeing the intrigued, bewildered expression on your face. You were tracing the neon glyphs running up his length, which would look like a normal human appendage had it not emerged from opened, flourishing petals. He was twitching with every slight touch, panting behind his hands as your fingers moved down, hips jumping and cock bouncing with even the slightest graze. "C–Careful, sensitive." Slick ooze coated his entire length, your hand glistening after releasing him from your grasp. Vash tossed a glance over his shoulder, seeing Wolfwood's furrowed brows and focused expression. Oh God, he thought this was weird didn't he? His worries dissipated the second Wolfwood reached around, using two fingers to gather up the slick coating him. He smirked, using his thumb to smear it around on his fingers before pulling his hand back. Vash would have been confused if he didn't feel a slimy finger circling his asshole, making him gasp and jump. "Tell us if it's too much," You soothed, laying back on the bed and coaxing Vash to come with you. He complied, of course he did, forearms holding himself above you as you whispered sweet words, followed by a quick, "Touch me again." Skin–warmed metal prodded at your entrance again, moving up, then down, before two fingers slowly entered you. In unison, Wolfwood pressed a finger into Vash, pulling a surprised mewl from his throat. Still, he melted into the touch, fingers pausing only briefly as he caught his bearings, before curling his prosthetic digits and stroking inside of your dripping cunt. The sounds you made were heavenly, his legs shaking as Wolfwood slowly worked him open. A second finger was added, his back arching and pressing down into your chest as he choked out a cry. "You're so pretty," You murmered through the haze, a grunt coming from Wolfwood behind him, "Please, Vash... I want you." Three words he never thought he would hear, three words that almost had him cumming on the spot paired with the quick work Wolfwood was making of him. He nodded frantically, glancing over his shoulder at Wolfwood, seeing his boxers now gone, cock impossibly hard and heavy under its own weight. Vash audibly choked, eyes wide when he made eye contact. "B– aha, big," Vash stuttered intelligently, earning a smirk in return. "How–" "The man upstairs blessed me in that way. Dont worry your pretty little head about it." Wolfwood pulled back, shucking down Vash's pants the rest of the way and pulling them off, allowing him to look back at you and crowd you in his space. Metal fingers gripped himself by the base, swiping one, two, three stripes up the line of your pussy, making his body jolt every time. The head caught on your entrance, his arms shaking as he slowly, oh so slowly, pushed himself into your welcoming heat. The slide was easy between your combined slick, his slow inch-by-inch entrance more for him than you to adjust. Once he bottomed out, you breathed a sigh, and he whimpered into your neck. Vash wasn't given much, if any time to adjust, before Wolfwood was pressing his cockhead against his hole, only managing to get two or three weak thrusts into your clenching heat before he was being split open. He was loud, the moan ripped from his throat when Wolfwood pushed himself in, filling him so good and so much. His cock twitched, jumped, and throbbed inside your soaked cunt, earning a string of pleas and mewls from your lips. He couldn't think straight, couldn't see straight, and he didn't even register the fact he had started moving back and forth in your heat in time with Wolfwood's thrusts until a particularly spongy spot inside him had been prodded by the other man's cockhead. "Ah, s–so much!" Crying out in pure bliss, Vash quickened his speed, the slap of Wolfwoods hips against his ass barely audible over his moans and mewls and whines. It was almost too much, almost enough to push him over the cliff of overstimulation, just barely toeing the line. Tears pooled in his eyes, knocking his forehead against yours as he panted into your open mouth. "I love you, I love you I love you I–" Vash sputtered, only a fraction of his brain working well enough to know he was going to cum fast and hard if he didn't try to anchor himself. "'m gonna cum, please, please cum with me." He didn't know who exactly he was talking to, you, Wolfwood, or both, but he was desperate. Bringing down the pad of his thumb, he spun quick hard circles around your clit, revelling in your gasps and whines. His hips stuttered when Wolfwood slammed into him with a particularly hard thrust, knocking him forward into you deeper, harder. He couldn't stop himself even if he tried, his voice caught in his throat as he choked, wailed, tears falling from his eyes and drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. Moan after syrupy thick moan, he emptied himself into your welcoming heat. The shockwaves of Wolfwood pounding into him mercilessly pushing you over the edge with his restless fingers. He could never forget your please, please, please now that he was the cause of your pleasure, pumping you full of viscous fluids and bringing you to your own finish. In sync, Wolfwood growled behind him, grabbing a fistful of his hair from behind and tugging him so his back arched, feeling a warm wetness spill into him. In silence, the three of you quivered, bodies shaking from the intensity as you stilled. The hand in his hair loosened, his body falling slack on top of you, both of you grunting at the impact. His cheek was pressed against your chest, smearing the drool running down his chin against your smooth skin. "Fuck," Wolfwood broke the silence, pulling out and away from Vash, "That was..." "So good," Vash slurred, mind broken as he continued to quake on top of you. Both you and Wolfwood laughed, turning him on his side to the center of the bed. He groaned, eyes glancing down between your legs to see the sheer amount of liquids that had left a sizeable puddle on the sheets. He couldn't find it in himself to be shy about it, simply smiling at you and murmuring an insincere, "Sorry." Your hand came up, gently smacking his chest in jest as you curled up as close as you could, partially to avoid the quickly cooling liquid and partially to bask in the afterglow with him. Wolfwood sighed, content as he laid down on the other side of Vash, throwing his arm over both of your waists. "No cleanup?" You mumbled into Vash's chest, earning a scoff from Wolfwood in return. "You wanna get up?" "Nooo," You whined. "Then it can wait 'til mornin'." Vash exhaled a weak laugh, his heart feeling so full, so warm, turning his head back to look at Wolfwood and getting a surprisingly tender kiss in return. Turning his head back to you, his warm fingers tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as he placed a slow, gentle kiss on your swollen lips. Just as he began to doze off, Wolfwood steadily snoring once again, he heard your exhausted, crackled voice in the back of his mind. “I love both of you. So, so much.” And in that moment, Vash the Stampede knew he had so much more to look forward to in his following days.

#vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader smut #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader #nicholas d. wolfwood x reader smut #wolfwood x reader #wolfwood x reader smut #trigun x reader #trigun stampede x reader #trigun smut #trigun stampede smut

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byeoltoyuki · 7 months

Text

best mistake

↳ Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

❧ Genre : Fluff / colleagues to lovers / smut

❧ Warnings: oral (f)

❧ Words : +1,8k

❧ Summary : Many things could happen at a party.

“Look who’s here.” Hana pointed with her glass at someone across the room, her voice filled with venom. You could guess easily who just entered the room, her venom was always directed at one person, one person only, nevertheless you followed her gaze.

Hyunjin walked in, one hand in his pocket, the other roaming through his long hair, looking unfairly beautiful in his black, fancy suit. It was hard to believe that a man like him was actually a simple employee in a company instead of being a model. He had everything to succeed in modeling; the face, the look, the aura and definitely the attitude.

“Mind to tell me what he did this time to piss you off?” You asked genuinely curious. Hana was easy to anger, that was a well-known fact, but somehow with Hyunjin it was even worse. You let it slide for a while, guessing that she would eventually share it with you, but she didn’t. Her dislike only grew.

She huffed and averted her eyes. She emptied her glass of wine in one go before finally looking at you. “Honestly? There’s something about him that just bothers me. The way he talks, the way he behaves – he’s just not someone I can trust.”

“And have you seen how people throw themselves at his feet? It’s so annoying! But he enjoys it.” She added

Huh. That bad, you thought. You took a sip of your own wine and hid your smile in the glass. Clearly, Hana had a bad image of Hyunjin without knowing the real him.

People often misunderstood Hyunjin. Because of his looks; they either liked him, wanted him or envied him. Those who wanted him and didn’t get him, tended to start hating him and spreading rumors which, in your opinion, was unfair.

But you knew better. One year ago, at this same corporate party, you committed the best mistake, by hooking up with him.

Flashback

Those corporate parties were supposed to be a way to thank the employees for their hard work, for their loyalty. It was supposed to be a night of fun, of drinking, of dancing, of singing and strengthen the bonds between colleagues. You liked the idea. Not that you needed this particular party to get close to people, but people tended to act different when under influence of alcohol.

“I’ll be right back.” You told Hana. You heard some of your colleagues mentioning that this year they had improved their alcohol choices by adding cocktails – you were eager to find out.

But before you could even spot the said bar, Hwang Hyunjin appeared right in front of you, holding two glasses. Stunned with his presence, you stepped back, your hand on your chest. He, on the other hand, looked smug.

There was absolutely no reason for Hyunjin to talk to you. Yes, you were colleagues, you had been for a while, but you never really talked to each other. You would usually see him chatting with other women which never bothered you, in fact, you understood the appeal. You weren’t blind, the man was beautiful, not to say a piece of art. But you knew better than to get involved with pretty men.

“Hello, beautiful.”

Well shit, you thought. No wonder, people were so attracted to him. It was obviously not only because of his looks. His voice? The way he said ‘beautiful’, along with the smile – nobody could possibly resist his charms. You had a hard time too.

Instead of answering him, you studied him for a moment, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. Hyunjin wore a full beige suit, the sleeves of his jacket rolled, exposing his veiny forearms (was it your weakness? Maybe). More you stared at him and less you understood his intentions.

“What is it?” You finally asked, curious.

“Why? Am I not allowed to offer a drink to a beautiful lady?” He shook his head, disappointed and yet his mouth curved into a pretty smile, not looking so smug anymore. He shoved the two glasses before you. “Wine or champagne?”

This was definitely fishy. “What if I don’t drink?”

“I’d say you’re full of shit because I saw you drinking champagne earlier.”

Someone had definitely been watching you. You wondered how you missed it. “What a mouth you have, Hwang.”

Apparently, you calling him Hwang did something to him. His whole demeanor changed, going from all smiling and sunshine to wicked and dangerous. Were you impressed? A little.

Without minding your personal space, he leaned closer. Warm breath tickled your ear; your breath hitched in your throat as you waited for his next move. Was it you or you were about to get into unexpected yet very welcomed trouble?

“You have no idea what my mouth can do, pretty.”

Now, that escalated quickly. How did you go from being offered a drink to something more, you had no idea but you shivered at his words. Just like that, he pulled back as if he had simply made a joke.

“Champagne for you then.” He gave you the glass and clinked his glass with yours. He took a sip, completely unfazed with your lack of response. You? You simply stared at him, a little dumbfounded and maybe a little dazed too.

You didn’t want to stare at him for so long, but his words replayed in your mind and unwillingly you find yourself staring at his mouth. This, did not go unnoticed. Hyunjin licked his lips on purpose, watching as you inhaled sharply.

“Intrigued?” He asked playfully.

“Yeah.” You didn’t even try to deny. Were you bewitched? Absolutely.

Hyunjin seemed pleased with your honesty. “Want to find out?”

You certainly did.

Just like that, you found yourself in an empty hall, pressed against a wall. One leg thrown over Hyunjin’s shoulder, you were a moaning mess as he ravaged you. At any moment, someone could walk on you, but you couldn’t care less. Not when such a beautiful man was on his knees, doing a marvelous job with his tongue, with his mouth.

He hadn’t lied. He was so damn good with his mouth, knew exactly what he was doing, when to kiss, when to lick, when to suck. In a matter of minutes, he turned you into a mess, drowning in your pleasure.

“Fuck, Hwang,” You moaned louder than you wanted. You clapped your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans.

“Don’t you dare.” He growled against you.

He pulled back and sent you a glare that could have made you come just like that. His lips glistening with your juices, his eyes glowing with pure lust and hunger. What a sight. “I want to hear you.”

Bloody hell. You obeyed. Maybe because of the way he sounded or maybe because, deep inside, you did want someone to see just how good this man made you feel. You plunged your fingers into his hair, pushing his face back against your pussy. Less talk and more action.

“Better.” He obliged as he closed his mouth around your clit making you gasp loudly. You arched your back against the wall, trying to hold for your dear life.

Hyunjin showed you no mercy as he feasted on you; his every grunt of satisfaction, every flick of his tongue drawing you closer to your orgasm.

“Shit, I’m so close.” You whined, your thighs shaking wildly. You were grateful he was supporting your weight, grounding you in a way.

“Then, come, beautiful.” No matter how nice he sounded, it was an order. One, you had no problem to follow thanks to his sinful tongue. You cried out his name, your whole body shuddering uncontrollably as you came.

Hyunjin straightened up, back to your level. He studied you for a second, a proud smile on his face along with a look of pure fondness. You looked like a mess, but such a pretty mess. Lips swollen with all the kissing. Hair a mess with all the pulling. Just watching you, so dizzy, so consumed with your own pleasure, made him even harder.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He claimed your mouth, for a hungry and passionate kiss, letting you taste yourself, swallowing your pretty moans.

Back to present

You thought it would be a one-time thing. But it wasn’t. The very next day, Hyunjin came to your office with two cups of coffee and asked you out. One year later and you were still together.

You meet Hyunjin’s eyes across the room, he winked playfully at you, not caring that he wasn’t alone and that people would see it. Maybe it was time for them to find out about you two.

“Please, don’t fall for his tricks.” Hana, who also saw his wink, pleaded.

“Too late for that.” Yes, it was about time.

“What?”

You put your empty glass on the table and looked at Hana, feeling a tad guilty for hiding this important information from her. It wasn’t like you hid in on purpose, it just felt right at the moment. “He’s a sweet guy, Hana. Easily misunderstood. But give him a chance.” With that you started walking toward him. Toward the man that swept you off your feet. Not like it was hard. Hyunjin was truly the sweetest, most caring man you had ever met. He cared deeply and always showered you with love and attention. How could you not love him?

Hyunjin joined you halfway, smiling prettily at you.

“Hello, pretty lady.” He took your hand and planted a soft kiss on your knuckles. What a gentleman.

It made you laugh heartily. Of course, he would do something like that. “Hi, handsome.”

“Are you ready to make people talk?” He asked without letting go of your hand. Instead, he started rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. Another sweet and natural gesture that provoked butterflies in your stomach.

People would talk. You spotted from the corner of your eyes a group of colleagues; some looked surprised with your sudden display of affection, some looked appalled.

“I don’t give a damn.” You said, confident. You inched forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, gently tugging at his locks. “Let them talk.” And you kissed him, making him smile into the kiss.

“Such a troublemaker.”

“Me? And here I thought it was you!” You chuckled

Hyunjin flicked your nose. “Nope. Definitely you.”

“I think your friend is about to have a heart attack.” He added when he saw Hana’s pale face.

You glanced over your shoulder; he was right, Hana looked paler than earlier and you guessed you were the reason. You were in trouble, you knew it, but the explanation could wait for another time. Now, you wanted to fully concentrate on the beautiful, lovely man before you.

“And I think, I’m about to have a heart attack because of how lovely you look tonight.” Hyunjin admitted and leaned closer. “Can we leave? I don’t think I can control myself much longer.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “What am I going to do with you, Hwang?”

“Anything you want, darling.” And he kissed the corner of your lips.

“Then, I suggest we leave.”

#stray kids #hyunjin #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #stray kids fluff #best mistake

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toomuchracket · 11 months

Text

i'd rather jump in your bones (dad!matty x reader)

(hi! a lovely anon sent me an ask about sleeping with dilf-to-be matty on your babymoon before having baba 1, which a couple of other people have also asked for, so here it is, a really REALLY long fic! smut, with a little bit of fluff because i am a sappy bitch lol. anyway, hope you enjoy! <3)

(also if you're unfamiliar with my dad!matty/flatmate!matty tags, this might be a little jarring in places, so i'd recommend reading some of those posts first to get a handle on the lore)

it's 8am when you're woken up by the baby kicking, her (as of last week's 20-week scan it's confirmed that, yes, she is a she) tiny little limbs bouncing off different parts of your stomach like the old dvd logo that would appear if you left the player on pause for too long. you snort quietly to yourself at that comparison, making a mental note to tell it to matty when he wakes up. actually, you're surprised he hasn't woken up yet; his arm is currently draped softly over the bump as he snores lightly behind you, so he should also be able to feel his daughter kicking.

although, in fairness, if you didn't have a developing human in your stomach operating on a different sleep schedule to yours, the things you and your husband got up to last night would have definitely kept you asleep at this time too.

but you don't mind being awake in circumstances like these: carrying your healthy (and presumably happy) baby; feeling the nearly-naked and gloriously handsome love of your life cosied up beside you; noticing the morning sun and various faint italian conversations creeping into the room via the patio door, left ajar in the scorching heat of last night. it's an early summer morning on the shores of lake garda, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be right now.

baba, though, would apparently rather you were somewhere else - almost on cue, she settles herself in such a way that your awareness of your own bladder becomes unavoidable. with a whispered "you like being a little bit mean to mummy, don't you? you're lucky i love you so much, my girl", you extract yourself from matty's hold without waking him - a feat you mastered a few weeks into sharing a bed with him post-movie nights in the flat back in the day - and pull yourself out of bed. feeling slightly exposed in your panty-clad state, you shrug on matty's black tank top from yesterday, carelessly tossed on the end of the bed, before wandering to the bathroom.

matty appears in the doorway maybe five minutes later, once you've appeased your daughter (so to speak) and brushed your teeth; he copies the latter act himself, after placing a soft kiss on the top of your head, holding his toothbrush in one hand and you in the other. you take these two minutes of matty preoccupation to ogle him, trailing your eyes down his abs and v-line to the waistband of his boxers, admiring the way his arm muscles flex and contract as he brushes his teeth, and just generally marvelling at the way your husband manages to make the most basic of tasks look so ridiculously attractive.

after matty spits out the last of the toothpaste - the sight of which, whorishly, sends a burst of heat between your legs - he turns to you and pulls you into a sweet, overwhelmingly minty kiss. "morning, my love," he smiles, after breaking the kiss and taking your hands in his. "i take it our girl woke you up?"

the obvious joy in matty's voice when he refers to your daughter makes you smile too. "only a few minutes ago, but yeah, she did - all quiet now, but she was kicking quite enthusiastically."

"really?" matty asks, crouching down so he's eye level with your cotton-covered stomach and sliding a warm hand under the fabric to rest there. "you gonna be a footballer one day, baba? that'd be cool. especially if you played for newcastle like daddy did when he was a kid. but pro. definitely pro."

you scoff. "our daughter in a career where she could be far better at her job than a man but would never get the same recognition as him? i don't want her to be that much like me, babe."

"fair point, sweetheart," matty says as he stands, kissing you on the forehead. "but you should still be proud of your work anyway, even though they gave that stupid dick the case over you. i think you're an incredible lawyer, regardless of the fact you're also a little thief when it comes to my wardrobe."

he looks pointedly at the tank top you're wearing, before smirking at you. you put your hands on your hips and stare back at matty. "it's the bump, isn't it?"

your husband's brow furrows. "what?"

"you used to love me wearing your clothes," you sigh faux-dramatically, sidling past matty back into the bedroom and standing in front of the full-length mirror. "you encouraged it, actually. and now, here i am, pregnant with your baby, and you call me a thief for stealing a top. must be the bump."

matty comes up behind you, snaking his arms around your middle and pressing kisses into your neck. "you know all too fucking well that that's not the case, darlin'."

you're having too much fun with this. you do know matty's arguably never found you sexier than he does right now, but you don't want him to tell you that - you need him to prove it. so you sigh, tilt your head and look at your reflection. "hmmm, i don't know, babe. kinda seems like the bump might be a problem for you."

"right, that's it," matty scoops you up bridal-style and carries you the short walk to the bed, setting you down gently and bringing himself to hover over you. he kisses you deeply, passionately, but languidly, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away to murmur against your mouth. "want a repeat of last night, sweetheart, so i can prove to you how much i love your body? yeah? want me to kiss all over those gorgeous tits, that perfect little bump, all down the insides of those fucking thighs of yours, before i eat you out? whatever you want, i'll do it."

interesting. you keep your eyes on matty's adorably eager, turned-on face, watching his eyes roll back ever so slightly when you rake your hand through his hair and tug slightly. "whatever i want? really?"

"if it gets through to you just how fucking hot you look carrying my baby, yeah," matty replies, kissing you again. his face softens as he pulls away, calloused fingers coming up to gently stroke your cheek. "my perfect, perfect wife, mother of my child, love of my life."

"you're so sweet, angel, and i loved how gentle you were with me last night. but," you smile, leaning into matty's hand. "you know what i really want, something that hasn't happened in a little while that i'd love right now?"

"tell me, darlin'."

you lean in to whisper in matty's ear, tugging his hoop earring lightly between your teeth before you do. "want you to fuck me like i'm still your little slut. can you do that for me, matty? please?"

the effect your words have on your husband is instantaneous (and extremely inflating to your ego) - matty's breaths become shallow and shaky, his hips begin to grind into yours, and those beautiful eyes of his flutter shut, presumably as he imagines obliging your request. when they reopen, the pupils are almost totally dilated, out of nothing more than sheer lust for you; they lock onto your own eyes as matty speaks. "that depends... d'you think you've been good enough, sweetheart?"

fuck yes. you look up at matty through your eyelashes, batting your lids a couple of times for good measure, and nod. "m'always good for you."

"even when you're stealing my clothes?" comes the reply, accompanied by a smirk. you smile back just as evilly, and quickly pull the offending tank top off and throw it to the side. "s'not stolen anymore."

for the second time in about a minute, matty's eyes darken with desire for you. "christ, you're so beautiful," he moans, before crashing his lips onto yours and his tongue into your mouth. "alright, darlin', i'll fuck you like the good little slut i know you really are. my good little slut."

"mmm, always, always for you," you smile against matty's lips, before meeting them with your own for another makeout. "thank you."

"you're welcome, angel. now," your husband's face turns slightly more serious. "how do you want to go about this? need to make sure you feel good before i can make you feel even better, yeah?"

nodding, you reach across to matty's side of the bed, grabbing one of the big silk-covered pillows - anticipating what you're about to do, matty takes it from you, quickly sliding it under your lower back and tailbone as you lift your hips. caressing them lightly, matty scans your face for any sign of discomfort. "you good?"

"perfect."

"too fucking right you are, babe," matty grins, kissing you passionately yet again. he bites your lower lip - which pulls a moan from within your chest - before releasing it slowly, dragging the soft cells between his teeth. "and now it's time for the fun bit."

matty's mouth is on your neck before you can reply, the feeling of his lips against your sweet spot turning your words to whines; they're closely followed by teeth and tongue and back to lips, as your husband - apparently not content with just decorating your body with the baby bump - adorns your neck with a hickey. as he begins to trail these scarlet marks of affection down the column of your throat, matty's hands come up to your tits, squeezing the sensitive swollen flesh and rolling and pinching your nipples between calloused fingers.

by the time matty's mouth replaces his fingers, alternating between each tit, you're soaked through your silky underwear. you tell him as much through a series of breathy moans, in the hope that he'll cease his ministrations on your tits and settle himself between your soft thighs, but it's in vain. matty simply continues to mouth his way down your body, kissing down your sternum and all over your bump (which, admittedly, you do find very sweet even in your horny state); only once he's done this does he pay any mind to the dark green fabric covering the place you want him most.

"fuck, sweetheart," matty sighs, rubbing your soft thighs and teasing his fingertips along the waistband of your underwear. "can see how fucking wet you are already. is it all for me, angel? tell me."

you nod furiously. "all for you, always all for you."

"good girl," matty smiles, placing a kiss to your inner thigh before peeling your panties down, throwing them somewhere in the sunlight-dappled room. he reattaches his lips to your thigh, leaving another hickey and you moaning his name, while his index finger glides up your slit to collect some of your wetness - suddenly, matty's leaning over you, bringing the same finger to your lips. "taste yourself for me, darlin'."

fuck. without breaking eye contact with your husband, you take his finger into your mouth, moaning at the tang of your own arousal on your tongue, hollowing your cheeks around the digit and swirling your tongue across the tip, before releasing matty's finger with a pop. you smile radiantly up at the love of your life, watching you with lust-heavy eyes, and you speak. "yummy."

"jesus christ, you're such a slut. i fucking love it," matty laughs in disbelief, before kissing you again. as he does, the finger that was just in your mouth makes its way between your legs again, ghosting over your clit before teasing your entrance. "and i love fucking you. can i, now, with my fingers?"

"please, please."

"so polite, even when you're so fucking desperate for me. alright, sweetheart, i'll give you what you want."

with that, matty settles himself between your thighs, and - without warning - thrusts two fingers into you, moving them at a rapid pace. you whine at the sudden pleasure coursing through your body, clenching around matty's fingers and clawing at the bedsheets beneath you. "fuck, please don't stop, want you to make me cum."

matty lets out a huff of laughter, eyes fixated on the fingers he's repeatedly ramming and curling inside you. "oh, you wanna cum, do you? that all you want?"

whimpering out a series of "no"s, you shake your head - although, you're not sure if your husband will see the motion over the writhing of your hips and subsequent movement of the bump. "want your tongue on my clit, too."

"beg for it, then."

jesus christ.

you do as you're told, though, aching for matty to eat you out like you know he's aching to do. "god, fuck... please, baby, please - oh, holy fuck - please, need you to go down on me, need your mouth on my clit, need it to make me cum- oh, yes!"

just as impatient as you, matty starts to suck on your clit before you've even finished your wanton pleas, his fingers still pounding into you. he moans into you at the taste, the hum reverberating through your body and bringing you closer to your quickly approaching orgasm, then flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue - deft, rhythmic strokes you soon recognise as letters, your husband spelling out his name on the most intimate part of your body. whether it's because of your realisation or the motion itself, you don't know, but you immediately feel the white-hot pleasure in your lower body begin to grow rapidly and make your legs jerk involuntarily. "shit, matty, m'close, m'so fucking close. can i cum? please?"

matty pulls his mouth from you to speak; his left hand replaces it on your clit, while his right continues thrusting into you. he looks like sex itself, cheeks red and glistening with your wetness, dark eyes hungry. "do it."

you don't need much more encouragement - even without your husband's hands deftly working on your core, the sheer sight of him and the rasp of his command could tip you over the edge into bliss. with a cry of his name, your body goes rigid and then shakes uncontrollably as your orgasm hits, matty moaning in harmony with you as he feels you clench and then cum on his fingers. he pulls them out of you and into his mouth, eyes closing in ecstasy as he does; when they reopen, they flick to make contact with yours in a wink. then, just as the aftershocks of your climax are beginning to peter out, matty ducks his head back down to your centre and licks into your entrance, turning the epicurean geiger counter in your body back up to an eleven in one fell swoop.

you gasp at the sensitivity, reaching down as best you can to grab a handful of greying curls, but your efforts are futile; matty locks his arms around your thighs in a vice grip and continues to essentially make out with your cunt, nose bumping beautifully against your clit as he tongue-fucks you to another rapidly approaching orgasm. because you're still recovering from the first one, this climax builds so quickly within you that you don't even have time to warn matty - he knows you're about to cum, though, from the way your legs go from shaking to clamping around his head (something he's told you on more than one occasion that he absolutely loves) and your moans become stuttered, shallower, sexier. so he keeps his motions up, only stopping once he feels your wetness soak his face and hears you scream his name, your legs loosening and trembling slightly on the silky sheets.

after wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and stretching his slightly-sore jaw, matty pulls himself up from between your legs and rests on one arm beside you, leaning over to kiss you deeply. "my good girl. how are you feeling? are you still comfy? do you need a little break?"

panting, you beam up at your husband, matching his lovestruck gaze with your own. "i'm feeling like i want you to fuck me now."

matty laughs, kissing your nose. "you're insatiable, missus."

"and you love it."

"i really do," matty smiles, shifting to hover on his knees above you. "position still good for you?"

"yeah, darlin'," you say, making a little kissy face at matty - he makes one in return, pressing his lips to yours in a little peck - and bringing your hands to pull down the waistband of his boxers; matty quickly takes over, yanking them off and leaving you both naked. "now fuck me hard, please."

"mmm, alright," matty smirks, running the head of his hard cock up and down your folds and teasing it at your entrance. "but remember - you asked for it."

his cock is inside you as soon as he finishes talking, both of you groaning as matty bottoms out - yours quickly turns to a whine as he begins to thrust into you, deep, hard strokes that have your eyes rolling back into your head. the sight of you so fucked out - tits bouncing with every thrust, hands clinging to the metal bars of the headboard, mouth agape and jaw quivering - makes matty moan too. "fuck, look at you, taking my cock so perfectly like the good little slut you are. you were fucking made for me, weren't you?"

you can't even answer, too caught up in how good your husband fucking you feels to remember how to talk. matty, who never misses an opportunity to be ever so slightly sadistic, isn't letting you get away with staying wordless. "answer me, baby."

"mhmm," you manage to croak out, whimpering as a particular thrust hits a particularly good spot inside you. "yours."

"gonna prove it and cum for me again, angel?" matty pants, grabbing your ankles and holding your legs in the air for leverage so he can continue to hit that one perfect spot inside you. "gonna cum all over my cock, and make me cum too? make me fill you up again?"

whining again, you nod furiously. the two previous climaxes have loosened your body up so much that you can feel your third hurtling towards you already - you just need matty to keep up his thrusts for a tiny little bit longer. "don't stop, please, keep fucking me. m'almost there."

"yeah? me too, sweetheart," matty breathes, his thrusts continuing, but getting slightly shallower. "fuck, i'm close. you wanna cum together?"

"please."

"ok, darlin', whatever you want," your husband smiles dazedly. leaning forward slightly again, his right hand leaves its place on your ankle to take up its original residence on your clit, circling in time with the thrusts. "let go for me, whenever you're ready. c'mon, sweetheart, come on my cock."

you're not sure what triggers it - matty's words, his hand on your clit, his relentless fucking, the way he looks at you like you hung the moon, or a combination of everything - but, as if on cue, your third orgasm of the morning hits you. and it hits hard, sending your eyes and head back and your back arching off the bed in sheer pleasure; so hard, in fact, that it triggers matty's orgasm, signified by a guttural cry of your name and a feeling of pure warmth in your core as he finishes inside you.

again, your husband pulls out of you quickly and licks a flat stripe up your core. this time, though, he's back hovering over you within seconds, tapping your lips with two fingers. instinctively, you open your mouth, and matty spits the mixture of your respective releases onto your tongue; you swallow obligingly without comment nor question, earning you a radiant smile, an affectionate "slut", and a soft, lazy kiss.

you pull away reluctantly from matty's lips, bringing a hand to caress his slightly stubbly jaw. "thank you. i love you."

"i love you too, darlin'," matty nuzzles into your hand cutely, a total contrast to the way he was fucking you mere minutes ago. "what a way to start the morning, yeah? proper workout, that."

"well, i did need a way to work off all that extra pasta the little nonnas in the restaurants keep force-feeding me," you giggle. "'for the bambino' my arse. they're just trying to get us not to leave!"

"i think i could stay here, you know," matty ponders, absentmindedly smoothing your hair. "you, me, baba, in this town, in this bed, just snuggling our days away."

"that sounds dreamy."

"yeah," matty sighs, pecking your lips again. "we don't have plans until dinner tonight - wanna practice staying here and snuggling for a few hours?"

"nah."

"what? why?"

"because," you sigh, rubbing your stomach. "baba's woken up and she'd decided it's time for me to piss again."

matty snorts. "impeccable timing. i think she gets that from me. remember that time i-"

"matty, i love you, i really do, but i do need you to shut up and help me to the bathroom now, please."

"alright, alright. whatever you need, wifey."

#matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #matty x reader #mads muses #matty asks #dad!matty

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malleusfucker · 2 years

Text

a night with leona and malleus

warnings: smut/nsfw, angry sex, unprotected sex, just malleus and leona being greedy bastards, reader is afab but no gender or pronouns are explicitly specified - i tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible

synopsis: threesome with leona & malleus, they’re both irritated with how you’ve been leading them on so in turn they both come to an agreement to fuck you at the same time just to basically ruin you.

words: 2k

this is my first ever smut that i tried to write in detail so pls ignore if its shit 😭 my grades in english were terrible so dont judge 😐 also i might as well change my user to malleus&leonafucker bc at this point theyre all i can write about LMAO

you can say that you have a very fickle mind. suddenly being placed in a college with so many different and eccentric characters out of the blue definitely piqued your interest. some can say it was almost too much - your eyes constantly diverting to different faces making you act in a way that you never did before, though, that being a result of two people in particular. leona kingscholar and malleus draconia.

since the moment you set foot in the college, you haven't been able to take your eyes off the two dorm leaders, whose very presence causes you to sweat and shuffle your feet under your desk. and albeit challenging, being placed in classes with them gave you the opportunity to eventually get rid of the itch you'd get under your collar.

the auras that both malleus and leona exuded were so attractive and tempting in their own different ways that they just served to further confuse you every day. you became increasingly irresponsible as you got to know them better with each class, to the point where you would ultimately steal kisses from both of them. you never considered your relationships with them to be anything more than casual sexual encounters; nothing more than that. every time you got close with the two stunning princes, with academic prowess you'd never see in a million years, it both humbled you and boosted your ego.

however, you were terribly naive in assuming you could mislead the two men for your own selfish ends because one thing you were unfortunately unaware of was that they were anything but dumb.

malleus and leona both slowly caught onto your little game - taking note of how you would focus all of your attention on one of them while ignoring the other. to put it mildly, it infuriated them. and to add salt to the wound, they were fiercely competitive with one another, and seeing how you treated them like toys led them to reach a bizarre agreement.

…

you were comfortably asleep in your run-down dorm in the middle of the night when all of a sudden, a hand violently ripped your bedsheets off of you. your eyelids slowly opened as the chill began to spread across your flesh, only to be greeted by two sets of brilliant green eyes. “apologies for intruding on you at such an odd time like this-” the taller male with horns, who was clutching the bed frame at your feet, smirked at you eerily. immediately, you widened your eyes and repositioned yourself so you were sitting up straight

“wh- leona?! malleus?! what the hell are you doing here? how did you get in-” without even being able to finish your sentence, leona grabbed your face and forcefully pulled you towards both of them grimacing at you with disgust “huh, you got some guts actin’ so innocently like that - ‘just pisses me off even more” you were trying so hard to spit your words out but the more you tried the harder leona gripped your face - it only resulted in your body starting to tremble and fear bubbling up in your stomach.

you were so confused, what did they want with you? and especially at this hour? all these questions were racking your brain but were immediately cut short when the two princes simultaneously pinned you aggressively onto your bed.

with leona’s firm hand still covering your mouth, you unexpectedly felt a long wet tongue lick a stipe up your exposed neck eventually leading up to the shell of your ear. you yelped at the sudden attention and darted your eyes to your left where you saw malleus leaning against you lowering his hand towards your crotch. the two men were only encouraged by your muffled voice and became more ready to humiliate you.

without warning, malleus pulled down your shorts and slipped his hand inside your pants. his gentle fingers caressed your sensitive spot on your body, turning your dread into shameful pleasure. the two men already had you at their mercy without even touching you that much. and with your arousal increasing by the second, all you wanted was for them to touch and fondle you more. whilst malleus showed some generosity towards you, leona, on the other hand, did not. he hated everything about the situation, just the idea alone that you were secretly getting intimate with malleus whilst also being the same with him made him gag and gave him all the more reason to just completely break you.

whilst malleus was palming your crotch, he leaned in and kissed your lips sweetly. it was his touch that reminded you exactly why you enjoyed his company so much - everything he does is just filled with grace and tenderness which just made this situation feel all the more surreal. you closed your eyes and gave into his kiss, letting his tongue inside your mouth, feeling his slender fingers slowly ease inside of you, making you moan. he steadily pumped his fingers in and out of you, noticing all the slick start to drip from his hand making him smirk against your mouth.

“oi.”

leona interrupted your kiss by once again grabbing your face, but this time he seemed more spiteful than before. “this wasn’t a part of the agreement.” leona scowled and glared across to malleus, still thrusting and curling his fingers inside of you making you rut your hips up against them “hm? what’s the problem?” leona scoffed, furrowing his brow “you don’t get to have all the fun you fucking bastard.” he grabbed malleus’ hand which was in your pants and snatched it away from your body.

the immediate absence of the pleasure that was slowly building up inside of you made you gasp and you opened your eyes to see leona quickly shove malleus’ fingers straight into your mouth. “ngh!-” you gagged at the sudden force being pressed against the back of your throat and looked over at malleus to see a face of brief shock quickly turn into smugness. “hehe… well go ahead kingscholar. they’re all yours.” the sound of their bickering back and forth over what they were going to do to you made you feel a lot more excited than you’d like to admit and you were beginning to feel restless.

fortunately for you, leona could smell how aroused you were, but due to his arrogant attitude, he was more than furious. you weren't the only one who became restless though, as leona began to fumble with his belt buckle and threw it across the floor.

while you were kissing malleus, you were unaware of how hard leona was getting just from the sight of you, although feeling guilty about it. he pulled down his pants and let his dick spring free which hit against his stomach before pumping it a few times, pearls of pre-cum started to gently emerge on the head. he then took hold of your hair and forced your face into his crotch, causing you to abruptly gag as the length of his member forced its way inside of your mouth. he didn’t give you any time to adjust or even make you realise what was going on and suddenly snapped his hips up towards you and pushed your head down even further.

tears already pricked at the corners of your eyes and you felt shame like you had never experienced - the shame being that you have never felt this aroused in your life before.

leona started to grunt and grind against your face, his grip on your hair only getting harsher and his pace getting more brutal.

“hah~ you’re so… fucking disgusting you know that?” he continued to blurt out insults to you, only deepening your guilt and humiliation but just turning you on even more to his surprise.

you were gagging and unable to breathe but even so, you couldn’t ignore the throbbing ache you were feeling from your crotch - wishing that something, someone could relieve you of your frustration. luckily for you though, that’s exactly what malleus was there for.

he could see how your body twitched and how your desire trickled down your thighs and onto the bed from behind. malleus eventually made the decision to satisfy your hunger out of kindness for you.

he grabbed your legs and propped them up so that you were on all-fours. leonas hand still holding your head in a vice, malleus gently touched your crotch. he massaged his fingers in between your wet folds, causing you to whimper and stick your butt into the air to give him better access.

“hehe, so eager.. you do know that you’re the one that caused all of this?” following suit, malleus undid his pants and released both of his cocks, which had already begun to ache when he entered your room.

malleus seemed to be a nice man, yet his actions were anything but. he lined up against your entrance, briefly rubbing the tip against your slit, and slammed his hips into you, giving you no opportunity to prepare. your already watering eyes quickly were screwed shut as a result of the unexpected force and pain. you tried to cry out, but your voice was stifled by leona's length as he continued to abuse the back of your throat and forcibly shoved his way in and out of your mouth.

it was a matter of seconds before malleus started to rock his hips, one of his dicks brutally assaulting your insides whilst the other slapped against your crotch with each thrust. you were starting to dreadfully realise that the two dorm leaders weren’t here for you, but instead to use you just like you had used them.

as malleus's pace intensified and became more severe, his delicate touch started to lose meaning. when leona saw his climax approaching, he abruptly slammed your face right down to the base and sprayed all of his pent-up cum into the back of your throat. he shoved your face up from his dick, releasing your mouth with an embarrassingly loud ‘pop’ all the while your hole was getting constantly assaulted by the darker-haired male behind you.

as leona descended from his high and malleus continued to drive into you, the room was filled with gasps and moans. now that your mouth was free, your whimpers and whines were becoming louder by the second. you could feel malleus’ cock throb more intensely inside of you. after what felt like hours of agonising pleasure, he spewed thick ropes of cum into you, filling you to the point where it seeped out of your hole. when the two men got you in this position, they felt even more determined to treat you more brutally. you were drained, out of breath, and your legs were shaking like never before wishing that they would be easy on you.

malleus bared his fangs as he slowly pulled out of you, noticing all of his cum spilling from out of you.

while malleus was thrusting into you leona sat surprisingly patient, pumping his cock in his hand waiting for his turn. and now that malleus had finished with you he wasted no time before he quickly pounced on you. you were still catching your breath before you felt another cock thrust its way inside of you with no warning. your pleas and cries were starting to become insignificant and only made the two men want to fasten their pace.

hours went on, them constantly switching turns and thrusting more and more cum inside of you every time. your mind had gone white, having lost count of how many times you climaxed and your body had gone limp.

it was clear as day to you that the two dorm leaders were just using you for their own sadistic pleasure and feared how long they would continue as they didn’t show any signs of stopping.

every round was seemingly more intense than the last. to the point where malleus’ frustration started to spill out onto you, though not showing it as much as leona.

he was still angry with you for secretly getting with leona behind his back and it showed with each thrust getting more merciless and rough. his claws digging deeper into the flesh of your thighs, making your legs buckle from underneath you from all the stimulation.

your moaning of both their names rang in their ears as they continued their plan to completely break you. you could see how leona's chest was heaving from all the rounds he was having with you, but because of his stuck-up pride, he didn't want to stop until he and malleus were sure that you had learned your lesson to not play around with them.

you could see in the corner of your eye that the sun was slowly beginning to rise and you could hear the faint sound of birds chirping outside.

you didn’t realise just how long they were going at it for and were surprised that you weren’t passed out from all the overwhelming pain and pleasure they were constantly forcing onto you.

your eyes were slowly starting to shut as you felt the lack of touch on your skin, thinking that they finally finished their torturous game with you. hearing malleus faintly giggle behind you, he gently kissed you on your shoulder before him and leona both made their way out of your dorm.

you felt extremely humiliated, but more than that, you felt exhausted. knowing that it was morning now, you groaned at the thought of having to go to your lessons and worse - having to see the two dorm leaders in your class after having the most intense night of your life.

you were certain of one thing though. that you were never going to toy with leona and malleus ever again.

nah bc this was surprisingly so fun to write considering how shite i am at writing longer stuff but also how tf do yall not end up writing 10k words it was so hard not to write a whole ass novel omg 😭😭 but hey im just horny for these two n just wanna fuck the shit outta them lmao

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takami-takami · 1 year

Text

Stray Dogs Will Crawl Home.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. angst (with a happy ending).

warnings— gn!reader. breakups. keigo's trauma because i can't give this man a break and he needs to heal.

For better or for worse, Keigo has always been thrust into the role of decision maker.

Sure, on the inside, his emotions pick and chew at his open wounds; but the man has driven the proverbial and literal knife into far too many backs to hesitate when he leaves you.

He can do what needs to be done. It's for your own good. You deserve more than half a man, more than the scraps of whatever is left crawling to your door after another day of putting his goals of building a peaceful society before you.

The night before he left you, stone-faced to contrast your tears and begs of 'why' on the cold of your doorstep, he lay on his side and watched you sleep. Tracing the bridge of your nose with the tip of a finger, he wondered, throat tight, what you'd think of him if you knew the truth of what he's done.

He can't bear to offer you a man who's already sold himself. You shouldn't have to shoulder the weight of his sins. He tells himself it's for the greater good, but under the cobwebs of his bed, he knows a smaller, childlike voice is telling him you deserve someone who isn't dirtied by a life counting shades of moral grey.

It aches like he's dying, sure, but that's what hero work is for, right? He can throw himself into the trenches, hour after hour, until the sun looms over the horizon and the lovebirds' chirps announce the arrival of another morning without you.

For what everyone in the media says about him being a 'golden boy', he just doesn't feel the sun without you.

His subordinates ask more than a few questions about the bags under his eyes, why his glowing smile has fizzled to a mere plastic performance. It's even easier to brush them off than it was to brush off you, to smile wider and turn the question on them— an unspoken order to fucking drop it.

But Keigo's kryptonite, the deep burn that itches under the layers of his skin, is that he's well aware of what happens after someone like you becomes single. The thought crawls under the remains of his bones, and as he perches on the highest point of the city, he makes the mistake of allowing himself to entertain it. If he wasn't weighed down under the drags of sleep deprivation, he'd curse himself for being so weak.

Deep down, he knows what happens after the weeks of digging through tubs of comfort food on the couch are over. You'll stop sobbing over the phone with your best friend. You'll probably start scheduling little dates with people who remind you less and less of him with each passing one.

You're going to move on.

Someone else's fingers will press against your skin. Someone else's quips will cause you to laugh into your sleeve, someone else will hear your shaky breaths under the cover of the night, someone else will whisper promises they can't keep.

Someone else is going to make a spouse of you.

He winces. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he takes a single stride off the ledge and surges upwards with the beat of his wings.

He makes a note to add another shift to his schedule. Maybe two.

Are you thinking of him? If you were here, he knows you'd tell him to be open with you, to stop 'being so goddamn stubborn'. You'd tell him he deserves a break from pushing his emotions down, that you knew damn well what you signed up for when you decided to be his, and to just trust your judgement for once.

To make matters worse, you'd frame it sweet, hook the words around his heart like a taffy lasso, make it so he can't resist. You do know how much he likes it sweet.

It picks at the anger thrumming in his veins. You expect him to lay himself bare? To expose the rawest parts of him, despite the commission's repeated orders not to? You expect him to be selfish?

Why does he want so badly to be selfish?

He should definitely add two more shifts to his schedule.

His phone begins to ring, startling him from his musings. He knows exactly who it is from the first note. Your favorite song plays on his speaker; the one you confessed reminds you of him, with your thumb swiping over the raised hairs on his skin. His heart hammers in the cavity of his chest, pleading to be let out.

He can't be fucking rid of you. Keigo's heart, his mind, his very bones crackle with the fire he frantically tries to put out. God, he wants to burn, wants to drag himself by his fingertips to the door of your chapel and beg you to just finish him off. He wouldn't mind serving as the ash of your incense. He'd do anything for a chance to fill your lungs.

Shit. He scrambles to dig his phone from his pocket, nearly dropping it like hot coals when he attempts to pick it up.

"H-Hey, sweetheart!" He cringes at the puppy-like excitement in his voice at the mere sound of yours. "I'm s-sor— I," he stutters for far too long before he finally gives up. Sighing into the speaker, resigned, he squeezes his eyes shut and says exactly what his mind is screaming he shouldn't.

"Can we talk?"

#GRIPPING KEIGO IN MY FIST. HEAL DARN YOU.#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #🖋 writing #🍧 sugar #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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helloheyhihowdyheya · 10 months

Text

Rose Thorn Blues | p. 1

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: The other Daily Bugle intern has been a thorn in your side all summer. But if you wanted the job, you'd have to work with him. And you'd do anything to get it.

Word count: ~7k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! Banter. Criminal activity. Swearing. A bit of angst but not really. J. Jonah Jameson lol.

A/n: I think this'll end up being around 3 parts, but we'll see. This has been tumblin' through my mind since last year, so I'm glad to finally let it out lol. Let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading <3

You used to enjoy the clear sky on a sunny day, the vibrating blue that stretched until it curved around the horizon. Used to love the way the lapping waves of the Atlantic shimmered for miles, its ripples echoing the sky’s image. The blue of the world before the sun came up, or the indigo quiet of a rainy day.

You even used to love how red the rusted bricks outlining your apartment building looked, tracing the tips of your fingers along them as you walked by, scarlet pebbles breaking off into your palm. The cherry glow of a late-night diner’s “Open” sign made the beats of your heart stutter, its lights reflecting off the glass and illuminating puddles littering the sidewalk. Even with the occasional rose you passed on your way to work, the red petals surrounded by thorns and overgrown weeds, you still leaned your nose in to smell its sweet crimson scent.

But that was before your internship at The Daily Bugle, before you had to write countless stories on Spider-Man all the time, and before you knew Peter, the other intern. Now, every cloudless day or trip to the ocean, hell, even the plump blueberries in the grocery store or a swirling glass of Merlot, an obnoxious red stoplight, or the tiniest cut exposing a drop of blood turned your stomach. You knew people could change you, but you’d never expected to hate the shades of red and blue — until you stared at it every day while standing in Parker’s shadow.

You’d shake your head, shove your fingernails into your palm, blink so hard your vision turned bright just to erase those colors from your mind and him from your thoughts. But you would have no such luck as you weaved your way through New York’s sidewalks under the summer sun, a barely-there breeze passing alongside the traffic. Your hand clutched your phone tight in its grasp.

On it held a photo of Spider-Man you’d just taken earlier that morning. He stopped a robbery, and you captured the moment he’d ripped off a car door to use as cover — a story that J. Jonah Jameson would love to spin into something ridiculous. You had nothing against the superhero, but it was what your boss wanted. The boss that would decide which intern would receive a full-time position at the end of the summer, and you wouldn’t go down without a fight against Parker.

He always had clearer photos and more information on Spider-Man — always seemed to get on the scene before you. You wouldn’t have been that upset if Parker actually was a better reporter than you, but that smug, chronically late asshole certainly wasn’t better than you. Not when you worked twice as hard just to watch him successfully stumble his way through this internship.

And that stupid shrug he gave you when Jameson chose his story over yours! He’d mutter, “Better luck next time,” as if you weren’t covering for his ass half the time. You weren’t sure why you did it anymore. Maybe you didn’t want to watch him get fired since this wasn’t an easy opportunity to get, but you definitely wouldn’t mind sitting back and enjoying him get chewed out by Jameson.

But that was unimportant now as you made your way into The Daily Bugle’s building, savoring the air conditioning as your breath tumbled from your mouth. This picture and the eyewitness statements you took would create a story Jameson wouldn’t think twice about choosing, especially when Parker always came in late in the mornings.

Walking through your floor’s doors, photo pulled up on your phone, you quickly dropped your bag at your desk before making your way to pitch the idea to Jameson. You’d mentally written the first half of it on your walk here already.

Your steps faltered though as you neared the office, hearing your boss’s voice echoing through the office.

“Good work, Parker. Finish it by noon, and we’ll publish it today.”

He was already here? Silently, you gritted your teeth, peering into the room. And of course, out walked Parker, one hand holding papers and the other shoved in his pocket.

“The one day you’re on time… I can’t believe this,” you quietly muttered, feeling a weight sink into your stomach. His shoulders hung casually while yours raised up and down with your breaths. His half-smile made you stare daggers into him.

He just raised an eyebrow at you. “Good morning to you too, sunshine. Most people happen to love my presence.”

You silently ignored his nickname for you as you said, “Then most people must be lying to you. What story did you give him?” You pointed your head toward the office, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“So you can go in and try to one-up me?” He scoffed, his eyes annoyingly bright and warm. “No thanks.”

As he made to walk away, you grabbed his arm despite your aversion to being near him. Even the heat of his skin made you too warm, just another reason to stay away from Parker. “I lied to Jameson last week while you were off doing who-knows-what when you should’ve been working. Now what was the goddamn story?”

The sound of other employees talking and making coffee filled the background. If you could just beat him, you’d be part of them one day. So you didn’t let up, waiting for him to answer as he looked between your hand and your eyes. He shook off your touch after a moment.

You watched his jaw tick, his eyes roll to the back of his empty head. “Fine. And because I don’t think I could handle the second-hand embarrassment. I’ll tell you that if your story’s about whatever Spider-Man was up to this morning, you might want to skip telling Jameson.”

The grip on your phone loosened a bit, along with the hope you’d put into this — into trying to prove that you were a good reporter too. But, of course, you were always stuck finding stories on Spider-Man, and too late with them anyway. Anything else wasn’t important news, not at this company.

You tried, and failed, to keep your frustration from your voice as you asked, “And how did you get here before me with that story? You’re literally never here on time and just always have some bullshit idea that’s barely a story.”

Parker just gave a short laugh, smirking at you. “And yet… I still beat you. Kinda stings, huh?”

You gave a grumbled “Piss off” before letting him walk past you this time. You filled up your water bottle, headed to the bathroom, made small talk with some woman you’d immediately forgotten the name of — all distractions so you didn’t have to go back to the desk that sat much too close to Parker, especially while he worked on the story that should’ve been yours.

When you finally returned, you refused to look at a particular person across from you — the two intern desks only separated by a half wall. You just fished out your headphones at the cheap desk with no air conditioning under the city’s hot summer.

A much-needed break from Spider-Man you gave to yourself, you continued working on a story you started researching last week. You’d gathered some statements and data about new unsafe water conditions in certain parts of the city. The story wouldn’t star on the front page of the website, or even the second. Third, if you were lucky.

The morning passed with minimal shouting coming from Jameson’s office and just a few “friendly” follow-up emails with sources you hadn’t heard back from. In the brief moments of silence between the end of one song and the beginning of another, you listened to traffic flowing through the streets below and the droning sounds of keyboards and the printer.

Only once you finished up the first draft of your article and turned to grab your notebook from a drawer did you notice a sticky note plastered on the edge of your desk. In messy handwriting, it said, “You type like a child bangs their fists on a piano” followed by a doodle of the sun, with sunglasses.

It wasn’t difficult to tell whose horrible scribbling this was. So after writing “Eat shit <3” on the back, you crumpled it up. You tossed it right at Parker’s face as you stood up, going to a meeting with one of the full-time writers here. Instead of knowing he caught it like always, you pretended it hit him right in the eye and gave him a papercut.

You didn’t look back as you approached Alice’s desk, the lead writer of the office. Her black curls bounced as she lifted her head, smiling at you. “Ready?”

“Yes, and thank you again for meeting with me,” you said, nodding with your notebook under your arm. She stood up, motioning you toward an empty office for the informational interview — mostly just asking her about her career in hopes it could help yours.

Sitting across from one another, you took notes as she spoke about herself and answered your many questions. Your writing filled one page after another, your wrist becoming sore but ignored under the weight of knowing this information could be important. When you asked what advice she would give to someone just starting out as a reporter, the silence that followed made you finally lift your head.

Alice looked at you with a soft smile while your pen stalled. “I would tell them that it’s not an easy career. And that it’s not for those without passion. You have to want this — and show it. The stories out there you want to tell… you can’t be afraid to search out the truth. ‘Leaving well enough alone’ has never been in my vocabulary.”

Your unfocused stare stayed on her while you processed those words… and the worry that you weren’t cut out for this work. There were stories you wanted to tell, but you couldn’t find the place to tell them. A cynical part of your mind shouted that maybe Parker did deserve the job at the end of this internship more than you.

The thoughts must have been evident on your face because Alice spoke again, her voice calm but stern. “Don’t worry. I see the passion in you. The best advice is to not let Jameson or anyone else stop you. ‘Kay?”

You nodded, unable to stop the smile on your face. So caught up in her words, you wrote down a condensed version of her answer: Follow your heart. Your thumb rubbed over the dried ink of the page, feeling the ridges of each letter. “Thank you, Alice. I’ll keep trying,” you said, and meant it.

She let out a light laugh, the sound loosening the tight muscles in your shoulders. “You better. I’ve been rooting for you to get the job,” she whispered, giving a wink that had you laughing too.

“Well I can’t let you down then, can I?” Letting your smile fall just a little, the curve of it no longer touching your eyes, you silently hoped that you wouldn’t disappoint her. Thanking Alice again, you made your way back to your desk with too many thoughts running through your head.

Slow moments passed as you returned to your chair, the cheap thing squeaking underneath you with each movement. Still, you closed your eyes for a second, just feeling the cushion beneath you, the armrests under your hands, the backrest keeping you from collapsing. A breath filled your lungs, chest rising inch by inch. You would not wait for anyone’s permission to change the world — even if that just meant ignoring your lying thoughts to change your own little world.

Slowly, you went back through your notes, adding bits here and there that you missed while Alice had spoken. At the bottom, you just underlined her final advice… letting the words bleed into your body as you promised to keep them at the center of your stories.

It kept you focused on your article surrounding unsafe water quality in the city. Thankfully, the hours passed quickly, and you got the article up on the site by the end of the day. All with minimal interruptions from Parker — despite another sticky note that said “Thanks for the granola bar ;)” on it. And sure enough, the granola bar you had on your desk was no longer there, but you silently tossed the note in the garbage without letting him know he got to you.

Though, with no snack, your stomach was definitely grumbling as you packed up. So you made the trek to a cafe with your backpack on, one headphone in, and a middle finger aimed toward Parker when he tried talking to you, a smirk plastered on his face that told you he had nothing important or nice to say.

The summer heat hit you as you exited the building, making you strip off your office-appropriate blazer. Still, you didn’t mind the sunlight after spending all day inside. Your music drifted into your ear, the beat of it matching your steps. You turned the volume down once making it into the bakery with the best after-work treat, the pink sign outside painted with cursive words: “Pat’s Pastries.”

Baked bread and sweet chocolate filled your nose, the smell helping you forget about work for a minute. You ordered your favorite cookie, pointing to the biggest one behind the glass. Silently, you ignored the whole tray of Spider-Man themed cookies they’d begun selling after the superhero saved the store from a robbery.

Instead, you just left the shop with a bite of the cookie already in your mouth. It practically melted on your tongue, tasting better than any granola bar Parker could steal from you. The cookie lasted you all the way home, filling you with a pleasant warmth.

In your apartment, you stood in the entryway for a moment. With slow movements, you removed your shoes, setting down all of your things. You’d only been collapsed on your couch for a few minutes before your phone vibrated. Part of you thought to ignore it and let the weight of your heavy eyelids drag you into a nap, but you knew it could be work. A groan came from your throat as you saw that it was work — a comment left on your article already.

People that commented on these pieces often had few nice things to say, so you braced yourself upon opening the site. Your thumb slid across the screen until you reached the bottom. Left by some guest user, the comment simply read: “What’s new? Beaumont fumbles again…”

Beaumont. Ellis Beaumont, the current city manager. He’d certainly faced as much backlash as any other official since he’d taken over five years ago, but you hadn’t considered him all that much when researching for this article. Did he have to do with poor water conditions in the city?

Before you could stop yourself, your hands went to your laptop. Your fingers typed across the keyboard, searching for relations between him and other issues the city faced recently. What came up most often was Beaumont’s press releases after most of them. His salt and pepper hair sat tightly cut to his head, no specks of dust visible on his expensive-looking suits. In each one, he stated how he and his team would work on fixing the problem — from unaffordable housing to upgrading technology throughout the city.

It wasn’t new to see a leader promise to do something and not follow through, but something kept sticking with you while you researched. At some point, between the sun falling behind the city skyline and ordering takeout to be delivered, you found yourself with dozens of open tabs and tired eyes.

Raking a hand down your face, you let out a long sigh. You finished reading another speech where he promised to fix something, crumbling infrastructure this time — “if only we had the funds!” And cue the part where he asked for donations to his nonprofit organization or proposed a government plan that would cost the citizens in tax money. Yet… hadn’t he raised the money? The last you’d checked, the street he’d mentioned repairing still had its potholes and unusable sidewalks.

A knocking on your door brought you to it, your eyes never leaving your computer screen. You just grabbed your food and paid the deliverer with a mumbled “thanks” before walking back to the laptop.

As quickly as you could, you yanked out your notebook from your bag and wrote down everything about Ellis Beaumont — before your food got cold. Your wrist ached again as you flipped the page, continuing to fill the lines with his career, his promises, and his letdowns.

Each of his projects toward bettering the city came with asking for money — money that didn’t show back up in the work. He’d made no updates as to how much he had raised or how he was going to use it. At the end of your notes, you wrote down in heavy ink: “Where is Ellis Beaumont’s money going??”

And even as you ate, trying to watch the comfort show you’d put on, your mind kept working in the background. Had others not also wondered this? Or if they had, did he have them in his pocket already? Sleep fought you that night, making you toss and turn in bed. But you had a story.

–

Walking into The Daily Bugle, you ‘clocked in’ (let Jameson see you in the office) and dropped off your bag. With just your notes, a pen, and a granola bar so no one would steal it, you made your way back out of the building.

Right before you made it from the office, though, a mop of dark hair appeared at the door. A small part of you wanted to somehow hide, the other part unable to resist the draw of him for whatever reason. But Parker chose for you, his eyes lighting up when they caught on your form. Your following scowl was enough to make him laugh.

“There she is, our lovely sunshine,” he said, leaning against the door frame. You ignored the sarcasm dripping through his words.

Instead, you raised your eyebrows and told him, “If Jameson asks, I’m out researching a story. Got it?”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Parker pushed off the frame. His smirk was enough to set you off, but then he held out a hand to block you from passing. Behind your unyielding glare, you secretly hoped he tripped over his untied shoelaces or smashed his hand in the office printer. As he came closer to you, he asked, “Where are you off to? I haven’t seen any sightings of Spider-Man.”

“That’s a shame,” you said, uninterested. Grabbing his forearm, accidentally feeling the hard muscle underneath, you moved it out of your way. “Have fun getting him coffee!” You shouted it over your shoulder, leaving him standing there while you ignored the heat on your palm from touching his skin.

You shook your hand out, waving away the memory as you took the subway over to City Hall. It had to be as good as any place to start researching where the city’s money went after Ellis Beaumont flashed a white smile and pocketed it. He probably wouldn’t talk with you, but anything to get you closer would be worth it.

Emerging from the subway station, your eyes squinted against the brightness. Still morning, the heat hadn’t settled in yet — just leaving you with a sunny walk and a nice breeze.

The building’s intimidating size rose high toward the sky. A statue of justice, a woman holding scales and a sword, stood atop City Hall — staring down at each person as you entered the front doors. The ornate architecture and grand staircase inside didn’t help settle the daunting feeling crawling in your stomach.

Still, you walked up to the man sitting behind the front desk there, trying to look as friendly as possible. Smoothing out your outfit and putting a smile on, you said, “Hi.”

He looked up with a classic customer service grin to greet you. “Hello, how can I help you?” he asked, leaning toward you slightly.

You kept your shoulders back, mustering some sort of confidence in your investigation. How would Alice do this?

With a clear voice, you directly asked, “If I was looking for records of donations for a government-related nonprofit, would they be here? I couldn’t seem to find them online.” You gave him an unassuming look.

“Typically, but what nonprofit were you looking at?” he asked, typing something into his computer. You took out your notebook low enough that he couldn’t see past the desk.

Pretending to rack your brain for the name, you said, “I think it’s called Stronger Together. I love being able to see where my donation goes — it helps make me feel closer to the community, you know?”

Your hand ready to write fell limp when his mouth pressed tight, his eyes leaving the screen to meet yours. “Ah,” he said, “Well Mr. Beaumont is not always able to update that information, as he has many responsibilities to maintain.”

“Of course, I understand. Though, I also noticed that the recent infrastructure project has yet to be enacted. Is there an update on that?” You willed your voice to stay steady, to be unwavering under the impatient gaze of this man.

A muscle seemed to twitch in his jaw. “I don’t believe the organization has given one, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been working on it. He is a very busy man.”

“Busy enough that I wouldn’t be able to speak with him directly?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said, shaking his head, but he didn’t seem too sorry at all. “We could take your number for him to call you when he’s available, but…”

“He’s very busy,” you finished, giving a smile as you bit back a pained sigh. “That’ll be okay, I’m happy to have helped the cause.”

“Yes, and we’re very thankful for your donation.” The tight grin he gave looked like it hurt his cheeks to make.

“Well, thank you for the information,” you said. Just as you were about to leave, beginning to leave with nothing to show for the story, you turned back. “I know this is quite specific, but would you know what Mr. Beaumont’s next project is?”

Another flicker of impatience flashed across the man’s face, his hands clasping together. “No, I wouldn’t, but I’m sure it will be a great help to the city whatever it is. I think there may be a nonprofit fundraiser this weekend… but those are typically closed events — for investors and friends,” he said, his smile turning less warm by the minute. “You can donate online anytime.”

“Great, thank you,” you muttered before turning around, frantically jotting the little information you received down in your notes while walking away. You swore you could feel the man’s eyes on you until you slipped out the doors.

The entire ride back to the office, this story ate away at you. Everyone seemed to be keeping information on Beaumont’s money close to their chests, even about what his supposed nonprofit was really doing.

‘Stronger Together.’ You rolled your eyes, beginning to feel like he was the only one getting stronger. And he was having another fundraiser so soon? Probably for something like conservation this time — his team would likely make a whole show of planting a couple trees and get praised for it.

As soon as you got back to The Daily Bugle, you ignored everything as you dropped into your chair and opened your computer. Your fingers flew over the keyboard to type up the notes, both for decoding your scribbled words and ensuring you kept the information in multiple places. You tried tuning out the background chatter and the gnawing worry that this whole story would lead to a dead end, but you couldn’t ignore everything…

“Whatcha typin’ there?” Parker said as he swiveled his chair around the desks to look at you. Glancing for a moment at him, you saw the shit-eating smile pointed your way.

Your face flashed a fake grin. “Your resignation letter, Parker.” You continued typing, not responding to his quiet scoff. But then he stood up, his steps gentle against the floor. He towered over you as he came around to look at your screen.

Before he could even reach your desk, you switched tabs to a blank page. Without glancing up at him, you silently waited for him to stop watching you. It worked well enough at first, your mind happily turning blank instead of entertaining him.

But he put his hand on the edge of your desk, his body now much too close to yours. The warm scent of him washing over you had your skin prickling, your fingernails pressing into your palm.

Barely heard above the blood rushing past your ears, his voice came out quieter than you’d expected. “So secretive. You won’t even share with me?”

Ignoring the glint of smugness on his face, you turned to look up at him. “So you can try to one-up me? No thanks,” you repeated, using his words from yesterday.

“But given my track record for front-page stories, I’m sure you could definitely use my help.” Parker shoved a hand in his pocket, winking at you with those stupid dark eyes. In that moment, you wondered whether you could somehow frame him for helping Spider-Man and get Jameson to tackle him.

So caught up in that happy fantasy, you didn’t catch Parker’s other hand creeping across the desk until he’d already snatched your notebook. And before you could even stand to grab it back, his leg came up and pushed on one of your desk chair’s armrests, sending it spinning.

While your legs tried stopping the chair, you heard him say, “How are you even able to read this? Okay, I won’t tell Jameson, but you’ve gotta be honest with me: do you know how to write? Or read, for that matter.”

“I was walking while taking notes– whatever, Parker. I don’t need to explain myself to your dumbass,” you whisper yelled at him, stalking over to his side of the desks. But he moved the notebook away, cocking his head to the side.

With a grin that told you just how much fun he was having, he said, “Huh, I didn’t know your pretty little head knew how to multi-task.”

You opened your mouth for a second, processing that he called you pretty, before rolling your eyes. “Must be hard to imagine anything with your smooth brain. Now give me my notebook back.”

In the background, you heard Jameson screaming to some poor soul on the phone. You hoped it at least covered up your bickering with Parker. But it wouldn’t be able to drown out the sound of you strangling him, which you were now seriously considering as he held up a finger to you.

In a calmer voice, he asked, “Are you really doing a piece on Ellis Beaumont?”

Scoffing, you reached over and grabbed your notebook from his grasp. He didn’t seem to put up much of a fight, hopefully mentally perceiving the threats running through your mind. As you returned to your desk, you glanced once more at him — and got caught on something in the look he gave you.

“Yes,” you told him before sitting down, leaving Parker and any distractions on that side of the half-wall. The last thing you heard was a sigh before you put your headphones in.

For the rest of the day, you finished writing up your notes and your other assigned work. In between projects, you secretly continued researching everything you could about Beaumont and where those donations went. Site after site returned empty, most of them just filled with propaganda for his non-profit.

With weary eyes and a fuzzy mind, you finally found something as everyone in the office began to finish up. You wiped a hand down your face, a weight lifting from your shoulders when you discovered an address.

Searching through countless websites, some of which you probably shouldn’t have been using your work computer for, you combed through records of donations to Stronger Together. Most listed City Hall or Beaumont’s address in their donation. But one other address continued popping up more than a few times — somewhere in upper Manhattan, far from where the organization would operate from.

If you were listening to Alice’s advice to follow your heart, you would’ve stayed home. Your pounding pulse yelled at you that going to check out this address after sunset was the worst idea you’d ever had.

On your walk home and all through dinner, you pushed back against the trickling fear down your spine — caused by the ice-cold voice in the corners of your mind filled with every worst-case scenario. It only grew louder as you neared the address.

You hadn’t done much field work before, or any that hadn’t just involved taking blurry pictures of Spider-Man and making New Yorkers talk to you. As you walked along the sidewalk with your shoes tapping against the cracked concrete, following the directions on your phone, you wondered whether you were cut out for this. You kept your head on a swivel and senses alert, but did you have any clue what you were going to do once you reached the building? No, not really.

You had come after dark, so breaking in certainly didn’t seem out of the question. And as much as you disliked thinking about him, knowing that Parker wouldn’t back away from this if he were here kept your legs moving.

Before long, with a warm breeze at your back, you came up to a large warehouse. It sat in a pretty empty area — one with few people around that you could see. A few street lamps illuminated the space around it, the light stretching down a small alleyway next to the building. Craning your neck, you began walking down it, seeing whether you could peer in anywhere.

Your fingers brushed along the building’s side as you passed by several dark windows. Unable to spot anything through them, you crept toward the back. No workers, or anyone really, seemed to be there. Nothing except for a metal fire escape. It seemed to lead up to a door with more windows lining either side. Fluorescent lighting shone from inside.

Swallowing hard, you forced your body to walk toward it. Each step you took up went slowly, trying to keep your feet silent as you climbed the stairs. Under the weight of the stars and night sky, even with the sounds of traffic passing by, each breath felt too loud.

Silently wishing to anyone that’d listen, you hoped no one stood on the other side as you slowly looked in. But you only found boxes — not all that surprising, but disappointment mingled with the relief coursing through your muscles.

Hundreds of boxes sat throughout the warehouse, lining countless shelves. You made a guess that they probably weren’t storing any tools for fixing the infrastructure like Beaumont promised. But you wouldn’t be able to find out what they held without breaking in, something you didn’t think your nerves could take.

Though… someone else could show you what’s inside.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a brief movement along the floor of the building. Someone moved into view, dressed in a black uniform and holding a clipboard in their hands. They walked to a shelf you could just barely see and opened up one of the boxes. They set the clipboard aside to pull out something… long and metal. At the end appeared to be a claw of some sort–

Internally, you winced, instantly able to recognize it from all your articles. It was one of Doc Ock’s arms. The other side was full of fraying wires, no doubt ripped apart from a fight with Spider-Man. God, why did everything always have to come back to Spider-Man?

And, in that moment, you must’ve pissed off some god of fate to deserve this irony. As you were about to pull out your phone to capture the evidence, your thought alone summoned the man. A web attached to the worker, the other end coming from the red and blue superhero crouched on a support beam. Within a second, he pulled them up to the ceiling and cocooned them in webbing to dangle there — the scene forcing an involuntary gasp escape your lips.

Spider-Man had jumped down with supernatural grace and looked like he was going to investigate the box further, but whipped his head toward you at your gasp. Your heart crawled into your throat, your hand snapping up to cover your mouth.

Racing down the fire escape, your scrambled thoughts tumbling around your head, you hurried back to the street away from what you’d witnessed. But before you could leave the alleyway, a flash of those dreaded shades of red and blue dropped down in front of you — your feet stumbling backward as you barely kept a startled scream from coming out.

“Hey, hey. Not here to hurt you. I do the opposite actually,” Spider-Man said, his hands up to show you he meant no harm. His voice sounded unnaturally deep, but blood rushed past your ears, clouding your senses. You shook your head slightly, trying to focus on getting out of there.

“But uh…” he continued, cautiously taking a single step closer, “I don’t think you live at this address. Is that right?”

You absentmindedly chewed on the inside of your cheek, debating on how much to tell him. He’d caught you sneaking around, but was that technically even a crime? Most likely. But clearly, you both were after some pretty similar things. So, while nodding your head toward the warehouse, you quietly asked, “What’s in there?”

His head tilted to the side as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Some no-no things. Which is probably why I should handle it, right?”

“Handle it how? By handing it over to the police?” you asked, a small jolt of panic rising in your chest. “What if it connects to something larger?” Your questions assumed that he didn’t exactly know where this warehouse came from and how it connected to Beaumont, but maybe not. Still, you couldn’t risk cutting this whole thing off early and breaking the investigation apart… and the story.

“Does it connect to something larger?” he asked, his gaze never seeming to leave you. You couldn’t tell much behind his mask, but the weight of those white eyes stayed focused on your face. They watched every microexpression crossing your face, despite the urge to hide from them.

Knowing you needed him on your side, or at least to not cover you in webs, you gave him a little more. Nodding, you said “Yeah, I think it does. I’m not sure how it all fits, but…”

“But?”

Pursing your lips, you let a breath pass before answering him. Jameson would kill you if he knew you were having this whole conversation without taking ‘photographic evidence’ and helping out Spider-Man. But that man was a prick anyway.

Letting out a long sigh, you said, “Check out Ellis Beaumont’s non-profit. I don’t think the donations are going where he says they are.”

He just cocked his head, but you moved around him, ready to leave this place and those watchful eyes. Your gaze avoided his as he let you pass toward the street, though he yelled out, “Do you need me to walk you home?” You just waved him off, your pace picking up. Still, he shouted a “Thank you!” for the information as you made the journey back to your apartment.

Unable to calm your body back to normal just yet, you found yourself jumping at every noise around you until your apartment door locked behind you. What you’d seen ran through your head again and again.

What did Beaumont want with Spider-Man? Or was he working with the villains to get rid of Spider-Man? His money couldn’t just be going toward costume dress-up storage, but breaking into that warehouse alone was out of the question for you. Leave it to the superhero rather than risk your neck.

Your brain racked itself for answers, working to figure out what interest Spider-Man had in showing up at that warehouse anyway. Even into the next morning, these thoughts plagued your mind. It left you in a haze as you entered The Daily Bugle — the noise of the coffee machine and Jameson’s muffled yelling more distracting than usual.

Even more offputting was that sat at your desks was Parker, the second time he’d ever beaten you into the office. Immediately, his eyes found yours, but you didn’t have the energy to give him a sneer or a smart-ass comment. You just started up your computer, planning to type up your notes again. Your hand rubbed down your face as you waited for it to turn on, already anticipating the inevitable interruption.

Sure enough, Parker stuck his head over the half-wall, leaning his forearms along the top of it. His chin rested on them as he said, “You look rough.”

Without raising your eyes to him, you let out a long sigh. “Wow… Thanks,” you said, letting an unimpressed look take over your face. You opened your notebook, turning to the pages where you wrote every piece of information you could remember after the events last night.

Parker raised his hands up in surrender, as if he hadn’t insulted your appearance. “Jus’ saying, you seem a bit stressed. Need any help, sunshine?”

At that, you finally raised your gaze to meet his — his ruffled hair dipping over his forehead while waiting for your response.

You squinted your eyes at him, your eyebrows furrowing at his words. “...I’m not letting you take this story from me, Parker.”

“Hey, I could merely co-author this story with you,” he offered with that smirk of his. “And I’m sick of writing about Spider-Man’s favorite restaurants to order from. C’mon.” He dragged out the word, practically begging you.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you considered him for a moment and his offer. His mouth tightened, drawing your gaze down to his lips and the sharpness of his jaw. Not the time.

“You really want to help me?” When he nodded, you still didn’t believe him. With a scoff, you asked, “Are you going soft on me?”

A sharp laugh escaped his mouth. “Don’t get used to it. This would cost you a week’s worth of granola bars.”

“Aren’t you the one asking to join?” you questioned with a smile you couldn’t hide. When he didn’t budge despite his ridiculous demand, you just muttered, “I’ll think about it.”

The long groan he gave as he sat back down told you how he felt about your answer, but it was easier to ignore now that he wasn’t staring at you. Why he was so interested in this story made no sense to you — not that you thought about it long as you finally typed up your notes.

Instead, you tried to figure out where to go next, where this warehouse might lead you. But a growing fear told you that it wouldn’t lead anywhere, your research online not giving you someone to question or even contact information for Beaumont. This politician seemed to keep things annoyingly tight under wraps.

As minutes slipped away while you ran into dead end after dead end in your searching, you internally debated whether to accept Parker’s help. Waves crashed in your stomach, the tide receding far away as if in anticipation of a tsunami — one threatening to destroy you. Letting him in meant risking your story, and risking the chance that he could get all the credit for your work.

As much as you hated the idea of sharing this with him, part of you thought you might’ve been in over your head. Especially after the run-in last night. And Parker certainly knew his stuff… sometimes. Not that you’d tell him that.

It was only once your search about Beaumont and that warehouse frustratingly turned up blank once more that you let out a sigh. It seemed it’d be a story with him or no story at all.

“Parker?” you called across the desks.

The sound of his chair shifting joined his raspy, “Yeah?” You bit back a grin as you realized you’d woken him up from one of his frequent work naps. When he swiveled into view, the red spot on his cheek from where he must’ve laid it on his arms confirmed your suspicions.

Still, you had to clear your tight throat before telling him, “You can help. But only if my name goes first, got it?” Before he could respond, you followed with, “And I take the lead on things, okay?” Your stare pierced his eyes, silently begging him to not take this from you.

The small laugh he gave loosened your tense shoulders just a bit, made your fists unclench. “Whatever you say goes…” he said, nodding with the most honest look you’d seen from him. “With some exceptions though. Cause you have a lot of bad ideas I’d like to veto.”

You wondered whether asking for Peter Parker’s help was one of those terrible, idiotic ideas. You hoped not.

@reidslovely

#peter parker #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker enemies to lovers #andrew garfield #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter #tasm peter parker #tasm spiderman #spiderman #spider-man #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader

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kl4us4 · 2 years

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MR. RAGER (eddie munson x f!reader)

you wanna be one of them, yeah, you wanna be one of them.

or, in which, Eddie's desire to fit in has never resurfaced as much as it does while watching you gain attention from the popular crowd. things get messy when Jason targets Eddie, yet again.

warnings: bullying, witnessing a physical fight/violence.

There’s never been such longing in someone’s eyes before. You feel as though his big, brown eyes are drilling into your back, making your spine shiver. With every passing second, you feel another inch of him digging into you. The longer Jason and his friends linger around your table, the more you want to turn and meet Eddie’s gaze.

“I dunno,” Lucas mumbles sheepishly, “I mean, Mrs D’s class is kinda tough, she moves way too fast.”

You give him a nod of acknowledgment, looking up from your notes, “Right!”

Eddie watches your smile, the way it literally brightens the room and, at the same time, makes his face contort with jealousy. It isn’t just that though, he can’t pinpoint it. It’s jealousy but it’s not because you’re smiling at Lucas - he knows you’re friends with all the kids in Hellfire due to your friendship with Harrington and Buckley - it’s just… it’s because it’s you smiling because you fit in. That was just it. You fit in.

“Mrs D’s class?” Jason barks out a laugh, throwing his head back and exposing his sharp, white teeth; as if a hyena emerging from a hunger filled slumber, “A seventh grader could pass her class, come on!”

You notice Lucas’s face scrunch for a moment before he just laughs it off, watching Jason roll his eyes at him. It sends a pant of guilt to your heart - Lucas, trying to brush off being ridiculed by someone who was meant to be his friend.

Trying to hide your frown, you just give Jason a shrug, “No, Lucas is right. It’s like she wants everyone to fail.”

Chrissy nods her head in agreement, pointing a fork in the air, “She’s definitely not the greatest.”

“Please,” Jason grins widely, leaning his back against the table as he folds his arms, “the only person who’s dumb enough to fail her class, again and again, is The Freak.”

A frown grows on your face. You should be used to people talking shit about him - but Jason brings him into conversation so needlessly. And you’ve never heard someone speak about him behind his back. You weren’t naive, you knew they did it, you just never thought you’d have to endure it without Eddie by your side. He would always make a joke or sly comment, he’d always bounce back from it better than you ever could - and the comment wasn’t even about you.

“I know,” Jason remarks, seeing your disgusted expression before he turns to the Hellfire table, “At least we’re not as brain-dead as him, huh?”

Eddie doesn’t tear his eyes away, having heard his accepted ‘nickname’ being thrown around from a few metres away. He doesn’t move an inch, not even as his friends continue talking their utter nonsense about Vecna and Kas right in front of him.

Jason straightens up when he meets Eddie’s eyes, immediately on guard for an altercation. You wonder if he tenses from fear or anticipation and you’re not sure which is worse.

“What’re you looking at, Freak?” Jason exclaims, lifting off of the table. You swallow the lump in your throat, the hairs on the back of your neck beginning to rise in fear.

“Oh, c-c’mon man,” Lucas mutters awkwardly, his dark eyes flicking between Jason and his friends at the table in the distance.

Carvers voice gains the attention of the Hellfire Club, who send hateful glares towards your table. You lock tense eyes with Dustin and Mike, who watch you in confusion. They don’t know about you and Eddie, but they know you’re meant to be their friend-slash-babysitter. When you meet Eddie’s eyes, just for a second of a moment, you can tell he doesn’t want to hold back anymore. He looks so fed up. But he sees your wide, frightful and apologetic gaze, and he casts his eyes to the centre of his table, teeth gritting together.

“Yeah,” Jason mumbles, grinning at the older kid, “That’s what I thought, trailer-park trash! Go cry about it to your alcoholic Uncle.” Jason turns around, grinning to his squad of jocks who surround the table.

The screech of Eddie’s chair against the ground as he rises to his feet makes you grimace as your teeth grit together. It happened to quickly, you barely made it out of your seat as Eddie grabbed Jason’s tidy, ironed collar and pulled the shorter boy towards him.

“Say that shit again!” Eddie shouts in his face, staring down wildly, “Say it again, I dare you!”

Andy grips Eddie’s shoulders, his hands tugging him by his denim vest before tearing him away.

“Stop!” You scream, pushing past the students who had begun to crowd around as Andy and Chance stand on either side of Eddie, holding him in place, “Stop it!”

Someone pushes you back before you can reach the inner circle. You hear Jason’s first punch land and Eddie lets out a grunt, keening over. Two hands are on your shoulders and you look up.

“Y/N!” Chrissy exclaims, staring down at you with wide, terrified eyes, “Oh, God! Are you okay?”

She helps you stand and you shove past the crowd or students. “Eddie!” Dustin shouts, held back by Mike as he tries to wrestle his way to the older kids.

Before Jason can land a third punch to Eddie’s face, shove Chance off of him. Andy, in confusion and somewhat shock, lets go of Eddie. He crumples to the floor, one hand immediately going to his tender stomach. That first punch landed the hardest, he’s gotta admit that. It was right in the kidneys, completely knocking the air and sense out of him.

Lips parted and eyes wide, you look at Jason, “Are you insane?”

“Didn’t know you had a soft spot for junkies,” Jason laughs before looking down at his red knuckles, “c’mon, don’t be so goddamn dramatic, Y/N.”

Eddie lets out a shallow grunt, riding to his unsteady feet. You turn to help. When you place a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, you can’t help the breath that catches in your throat when he flinches away from you. You take your hand off him, watching as he looks up at you, head angled towards the ground, “Eddie-”

“Don’t touch me,” Eddie’s voice is like venom - you don’t even realise it’s menacing and deadly until a few seconds too late.

“Wow,” Jason mewls, watching the interaction, “really living up to that Munson name, aren’t you?”

It takes you a moment to full hear what Eddie said. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me? Pressing your lips together, you stand to your full height and, like you’ve practiced too many times before, you pretend you don’t care about Eddie Munson. Gareth rises towards Eddie, his eyes always flicking towards the jocks still surrounding the scene. Jeff steps in, hesitantly helping Eddie to his feet. Eddie doesn’t even look at you as they lead him to the Hellfire table, just as the principle comes in shouting and ordering students around. But the bell rings, signalling the end of lunch, and almost everyone disperses.

“Y/N,” Chrissy calls from behind you, collecting your things for you, “c’mon, let’s… let’s go.”

Watching as Eddie walks out of the cafeteria, black bandana held against his bloody nose, you bite the inner corner of your cheek. He doesn’t spare a glance at you. Chrissy hands you your bag, now packed with all your things and you stare at it for a second before taking your bag and rushing outside of the cafeteria, outside the entire school, and heading in the direction of your house.

You weren’t sure if you should call him. It didn’t seem like it. Didn’t seem like he wanted you to, judging from your interaction. Eddie had never looked at you like that. You can’t get the image from your head, his bleeding nose and pained face, staring directly at you as he told you not to touch him. He even flinched away from your hand. Eddie had never done that before.

It’s late. You’re just about to turn your lamp off when a knock comes from your window. Shutting your eyes, you freeze, already knowing who it is. When you turn, you can see Eddie perched on the roof below your window. Letting out a sigh, you rise from your bed to unlock and slide it open. You don’t say anything as you look down at him, meeting his sunken eyes.

“It's late,” you mutter nervously, the lamp from your bedroom illuminating the light bruise on his nose, "are you okay?"

"Fine," he just nods absentmindedly, before rushing out his question, “why’d you get involved?”

“What?” You narrow your eyes at him, wondering if he’s seriously asking such a stupid, obvious question.

“It was really stupid of you,” he adds seriously, “stepping into a fight like that - everyone there was ten times bigger than you.”

“Did you come here just to hurt me?” You ask plainly, “You already did enough of that today.”

Eddie looks at the window sill, hiding the guilt in his gaze, expression totally unreadable and plain, “Can I come in?”

You open the window wider, stepping aside and watching as he slowly climbs into your room. You don’t say anything. There’s this really heavy tension that’s settled between the two of you and you don’t know how or why it got there.

“Parents home?” He wonders quietly, looking around at the silent home. He knows they’re not. They rarely are.

You get to the point because you’ve never been a fan of dancing around anything, “I got involved because they would’ve beaten you until you couldn’t remember your own name. Why’d you push me away?”

Eddie watches as you stare up at him, eyes already glossy as you examine his bruising face. His lips part for a moment and he licks them, “I don’t know.”

“Eddie,” you mumble, staring at him and waiting.

“I didn’t… People were staring at us, I…” He just shakes his head, eyes darting to yours to gauge if you understand his stuttered words.

“You didn’t want people to find out about us,” you finish his sentence for him, giving him an emotionless nod, “you were being beaten in front of me and-and you’d rather just… endure it than have anyone know you’re dating me.”

“No, just... let me find the words,” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together and he lingers by your window, as if at any moment you’ll tell him to leave and, honestly, you might, “people were staring at me like... like I was crazy for standing up for myself - like even though I got the shit beaten out of me, somehow it was my fault." He lets out a humourless laugh, shaking his head gently, "I don't know... I just - then I saw you and I-I don't want people to look at you like they look at me; like a freak."

"I don't care what people think about you, you know that," you remind him.

"You should," he refutes simply, "Y/N, I still think it’s… better for you; for no one to know. You know, I… I get shit from everyone, yeah, but I’m used to it. I can handle it.”

You frown at him, “You don’t think I can?”

Eddie looks at you, noticing your red cheeks and glossy eyes. “No,” he answers truthfully, “and I don’t ever want you to. You fit in with them - Chrissy and the cheer squad and all that, they’re your friends. I don’t want you to lose that over me, you don’t deserve that. You deserve to enjoy your last year without me ruining it. So, no, I don’t… I don’t think you really know what it’d mean to be seen with me.”

“You’re aware that I’m capable of making decisions for myself,” you stare at him, eyes borderline glaring at him, “right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he breathes out a sigh, his eyes roaming up and down you.

"Also, you don't ruin anything for me, ever - so, don't say that," you glare at him, shaking your head at his idiocy.

Eddie lets out a light chuckle at your expression but gives you a knowing nod, "Yeah, well, either way - I gotta stand my ground on this one, sweetheart. I just... I want you to be safe."

"I'm safe with you," you tell him openly, pressing a hand against his cold cheek, "always."

"You wouldn't be if they knew," he responds, trying so hard not to let his instincts overcome him by leaning into your warm touch, "they'd make your life hell. You shouldn't have to worry about the shit that I worry about, you know? I... Jesus Christ, this is gonna be embarrassing but... I used to want to be one of them, you know?"

You squint your eyes at him, tilting your head as you give him a smirk, "You? Metalhead Munson?"

A smile breaks through his demeanour and he squeezes your hip gently, giving you a fond look, "Yeah, when I was a kid - like 13, 14 - I used to want nothing but to fit in. I never felt like that again 'til today."

He watches your expression fall and you frown at him, "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"Not your fault, pretty baby," he hums, trying to lighten the mood as he leans forward to brush his nose against yours, "just want you to be okay because I know what it's like not to be." He finishes. You gaze up at him, a small pout on your lips. "Don't look at me like that," he hums out a whisper.

"I just love you," you admit honestly, stroking your thumb against his cheek which has become warmer the longer he's stayed inside of your room, "I love you so much."

Eddie grins, one of those charming, dimple-y, unadulterated smiles that makes you stare at him fondly. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he mumbles tenderly, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours, “always."

“Always,” you respond to him, pushing your lips to his. His soft lips move against yours tenderly while his hands fall down to your hips. The kiss feels like it always does - bubbly, familiar, loving - but it makes it even more comforting to know you’ll be kissing these perfect lips for as long as the universe allows you.

#Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #stranger things Eddie Munson #eddie Munson x reader au #eddie Munson au #eddie Munson angst #eddie Munson x reader angst #eddie Munson x reader fluff

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sanjisblackasswife · 10 months

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𝕆𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝔸𝕚𝕜𝕦 ℕ𝕊𝔽𝕎 𝔸𝕝𝕡𝕙𝕒𝕓𝕖𝕥

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

Unfortunately you had to teach him what that even was. Thats if you had the patience for him. He didn’t necessarily fall straight asleep after sex, but he wanted you to cockwarm him all night. Now if you’re up for that then you’re good to go, no problems, but every girl deserves excellent aftercare so after talking to him about it he struggles to understand a little the point of it but after a few trial and errors he is more anticipating on aftercare with you. He loves laying naked, catching his breath, and feeling all over you after sex. He takes a few moments of silence before he slowly gets up, slaps your ass and says “Alright let’s take a shower together.” If he’s feeling nice he’ll pick you up.

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

You: He gives off tiddy/thigh man. He cannot stop staring at them when they are exposed. Even if you’re wearing a shirt that covers your breast and you have spillage under the bra he is infatuated with your breast. He loves rutting against your thighs at night. He holds you from behind and some nights when you both haven’t had sex in a while and just ruts into your thighs which leads to him pulling his dick out and thigh fucking you from behind

Him: His legs, he knows he is the best at being a striker, he puts pride into working out and he notices how you gawk at his meaty thighs anyways.

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

Messy boy. No shame. He loves filling you up, but pulling out to finish on your pretty sensitive pussy makes him want to take pictures so badly. He will always hum about how sexy your pussy is to him, sometimes he even pushes back your thighs and cleans you up just to get one more taste.

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

He wants to make a Twitter with you. Completely faceless Twitter videos that is. He’s on it almost daily and he swears up and down you both can create way better videos to make, plus the thought of people getting off to fucking you or eating your pussy gets him riled up. He wants to ask you one day but he fears you may get upset. But hopefully you can say yes to recording a video private videos with him?

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

He had his fair share of women before you, that doesn’t make him good. He wasn’t that great when you both became exclusive and started having sex. He was constantly rough, bare did any foreplay, snd only cared about himself. Now though after explaining to him that you in fact CAN have better sex by taking his time, he has improved vastly. His demeanor changed so much he is almosta different person when it comes to sex.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Reverse cowgirl: Is a FEIND for it. Seeing your ass bounce in front of him as he smokes with hand arm behind his head will always be his favorite. He sometimes gives your ass a firm smack of appreciation with a lewd comment about your pussy taking him so well.

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

He can definitely have his unserious moments. He loves talking dirty but he always ends up sounding like a smartass leaving you both in a bantering giggle.

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

Hairy boi. Not like completely too much where it’s like a jungle, but If you want it trimmed he would just let you do it. (He wants another reason for you to touch his dick)

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

He isn’t a traditional romantic. For an example. He once wrote “Let me eat that pussy” in rose petals on your bed when you came home from work. Either than that the most romantic he’s been was giving you a massage that ended up with him giving your backshots about 10 minutes in after he “accidentally “ slipped his finger in your pussy.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Daily. Less when he got with you, but it’s still every other day he usually only does it when you’re not home and to send you a photo, but if you are home he likes for you to watch him…maybe even join.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Exhibitionist, Dacryphilia, Roleplay, Somno, Praise, Degrading, Breath play, Forcing and Orgasm

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom is where he is most comfortable but nothing screams fun like doing it in a locker room 15 minutes before his team comes walking in. He still haven’t been caught but even if he did he doesn’t care.

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

When you get mad at him. He’s a pervert and a weirdo he gets a certain smirk creeping from his face when he sees you cursing him out. A few times he has just kissed you mid argument, managing to suck in your tongue, even if you push him off he continues to try to rut into you.

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

Whatever your no’s are his as well. He’s an open minded guy. He doesn’t mind doing at least one new thing with you each time you have sex.

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

When you taught him foreplay you also taught him how to eat your pussy and….damn. You created a pervert. Oliver loves eat your pussy even if hes already inside you, he’ll stop to flip you on your back and continue licking you. He doesn’t understand why yous pussy feels so good against both his dick AND tongue but he isnt complaining.

Oliver loves you with all his heart. He does, but he lives your throat even more. He always tries to take control of you by face fucking you when you suck his dick. He doesn’t have any shame. However his groans and moans of your name make it worth it.

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

Now that he’s trained he goes the pace YOU want. He always ask “slow or fast” against your lips before hand as he slides his way in side you. Usually when you’re riding first though he wants it fast.

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

Quickie King. Loves em. It’s just foreplay for him, really until he takes you home and finishes what he starts.

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

He takes risks everyday when he fucks you, it’s damn near scary how much he is willing to do for your pussy.

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

Realistically about 3 rounds max with breaks. Average time of a night full of sex is aboutt 45 minutes to an hour and that’s not including foreplay.

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

He owns vibrator he let you use on him, He whined like a slut for how much your edges him and to this day he wants to take out his revenge on you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teasing is part of his foreplay, seeing your squirm, seeing your whine his name when he’s edging you, or even barely touching you, but whispering in your ear how much he wants to fuck you when you both are in a public area. It gets him off.

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

He’s a whiner and a groaner. You only heard him whimper a few times but overall he is a brat that loves to he tamed so if he isnt groaning your name he’ll be talking shit, don’t worry, just clamp down on him and he’ll be whining all over again.

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

He is part Mexican and sometimes speaks Spanglish when he’s happy/feeling flirty

He loves watching rom coms with you, he swears it’s for YOUR entertainment but you always question that when he continues talking about how Brad cheating on Lydia was wrong even AFTER the movie ended

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

Curved, 6.7 inch, cut, veiny, light brown and fleshy pink dick. He prides himself on it, and yes it’s as pretty as him. (He calls it Lil Oli)

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

Higher than a kite. He has sex with you about 5-6 times a week and that’s if he isn’t out traveling. If he is them expect ft calls every night for a mutual masturbation session.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You both end up slowly passing out after sex after some aftercare. A few whispers of appreciation from him and “i love yous” while he brushes his fingers on your eyes so you can fall asleep with him and he’s out like a light.

#TimikosOliver #bllk smut #bllk oliver #bllk #bllk hcs #bllk headcanons #bllk x female reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x black reader #oliver aiku #oliver smut #oliver aiku amut #black reader #oliver aiku x black reader #oliver aiku x reader

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irregularcollapse · 4 days

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hi i think i saw in the tags of a post that you would like to talk about damen in relation to the romantic hero. please do talk about damen

i love your storiea a lot btw

YES okay yesssss ALRIGHT thank you so much for prompting me. I get nervous about just making analysis posts without someone asking me something, because I feel like people aren't interested in what I have to say. But that doesn't matter, thank you for asking, anon!

So I say some things about Damen as a romantic hero in this post here but I really wanted to elaborate. Just to be clear, I'm not saying Romantic hero (literary archetype), but romantic hero as in, hero in the romance genre; a type of love interest.

The first thing to pick apart is the genre of the trilogy. In terms of genre, they are definitively (despite what some people say) romance books. Specifically, they are what we call open door romances, being that sexual content appears on page (as opposed to closed door romances, in which sexual content is allusive or happens off page). The political/war plot points do not negate them being romances, and they aren't 'better' than other romances because of the external plot. I feel like there's a lot of defensiveness about these books being 'not just romances,' but honestly, backhanded compliments like that reveal nothing but a lack of genre awareness. But that's another rant lmfao ignore that.

The really interesting thing is that the narrative setup has the markers of erotica, as opposed to romance. The distinction is really important in terms of genre function and categorisation. Erotica is concerned with telling a story that focuses on sexual themes; romance centres on the development of a romantic relationship between two people. Book 1 of the trilogy is largely constructed and developed as an exploration/indulgence of slave kink for the gratification of the reader. This recent post beautifully explains a concept which the OP has coined a fantastic term for: when the kink which the story is indulging is not acknowledged by the characters. OP marks the distinction between diegetic (for the characters) and non-diegetic (for the readers) kink and BDSM, borrowing terms typically used for music in film: to reiterate, Book 1 functions largely as slave kink erotica for the gratification of the reader. It isn't an endorsement of actual historical Greek/Roman slavery; it's erotica written for adults who know how to distinguish between fantasy and reality and that kinks aren't a reflection of a person's morals. It's play, and the characters are all dolls putting on a scene for the reader's enjoyment.

But the books don't—can't—stay within those genre confines, and it's because of Damen. He's quite simply too dimensional.

The first way that Damen contravenes the genre is that he introduces the notion of consent (to clarify, consent has little to no function in non-diegetic erotica). He tries to contain his internal horror as he witnesses the staged rape performed by pets for the courtiers; he argues for the Akielon slaves, on the grounds that mistreating them is an abuse of the consent they have given. Damen's personal morals and worldview serve to expose what makes the entertainments and performance of kink in Vere so grotesque: the consent is forced, or coerced. There is no true choice. It is Damen's morality, this deep-rooted concern for the acquiescence and pleasure of both (all) participants in sex, that shift the genre which Damen exists in from erotica to romance. It is Damen's morality which gives the seduction legs to play out across three books (each book clocking in at under 80k, for perspective).

So we are firmly in the (open door) romance genre, and it's because of Damen. Damen is the Main Character, which means the other role that needs to be filled is the Love Interest. Something key to remember about the romance genre and its history is that it is predominantly heterosexual, and it is predominantly female-focused. The genre also, crucially, serves fantasy fulfillment. It is a uniquely escapist genre in a way that no other genre is, because escapism is the primary intention of a romance book. This is also why so many famed or recognisable romance books feature that "I'm just a girl" protagonist: she's plain, she's not exceptional, she doesn't know she's beautiful, she has been waiting for the right guy, she's got hidden potential—she could be the reader, right? She could be any reader within the target demographic. The real reason why, historically, people were reading romance books was for the Love Interest.

The LI is (or perhaps it's more accurate to say 'was') more often than not an archetype of appealing masculinity. He would doubtlessly be physically imposing—other men simply can't compare—but would only use his power to defend or pleasure the MC. He would be focused on her satisfaction, would be willing to sacrifice everything for her, would see her in a way that no one else would or could. He would court her, but make his intent clear, and be overcome with sexual desire for her (but of course, deferential to her pleasure as well). If he uses force, she likes it because she trusts him, and she has likely had traumatic experiences with other men that he is careful of. Prior to him, she was trapped; through loving her, he frees her.

Does it all sound a bit familiar?

I said in the other post that Damen assumes the role of "romancer," making Laurent the "romancee." In a typical romance novel structure, the reader would be putting themselves into Laurent's position, the character who the romancer/Love Interest's attention is directed towards. We see the romancer/romancee dynamic play out in the way that Damen "makes love" to Laurent with words, saying all the romantic things which come to him; in the way he leaps to Laurent's physical defense, particularly when Laurent's physical autonomy is compromised; in the way he always checks for comfort and consent in a way that Laurent is able to respond to. Even though their first sexual encounter is technically initiated by Laurent, it is only due to Damen's ongoing courtship (although that scene almost warrants a whole other long-winded post oh my god).

This is all what makes Damen such a singular and compelling main character: not only does he force the genre of his story to change, but he transforms the role that he should archetypically play as the MC. He also, however, transforms the role of the romantic hero, once again because of how dimensional he is. I pick apart that dimensionality a bit in this post, but his layers and humanity and everything that go into making Damen a sympathetic character are what makes him such a good romantic hero, which in itself is sort of a paradox: he carries self doubt, and is decidedly not the hypermasculine brute which he is perceived to be, and as such is a more nuanced and rounded character than the typical romance book LI has been historically. He functions as a deliberate subversion of those tropes, and it is his roles as both MC and romantic hero that allow the readers to see the ways in which Laurent also deliberately subverts the romance tropes within which his character fits.

It is very interesting to me to think about one thematic angle of the books being "shades of grey," as in, a directive to resist black-and-white thinking and to dig deeper into motivation and reason. I've said elsewhere that this is the lesson that Laurent learns just as much as it is the lesson which Damen learns, and applies just as much on a structural level: the reader is invited to recognise the tropes and archetypes which they may find familiar from other erotica and other romance fiction, but they are then positioned to dig deeper and see what lies underneath those initial impressions.

I think I'll have to leave it there, because my eyes are getting blurry and my brain is getting really foggy, and I've sort of lost my train of thought so I really hope this makes some sort of sense lmao. But if there's anything else you want to ask, or anything you need me to clarify, please reach out again! As you can see, I have a lot to say about Damen's character <3

(But also, please read my current WIP a storm that took everything because it is all about being in Damen's head and what's going on in there I love him to bits)

#asks #anonymous #i was trying to keep these replies out of the tags #by putting the fandom tag at the end of my tag list #but apparently that didn't work #so i guess it's going in the tag then #captive prince #(i want to keep my own blog semi-organised at least)

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lesbianwriter · 1 year

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Pay the Price

“Are they coming?” Hero whispered, her voice raspy and gravely from days of being unused.

Villain looked up from her phone. “What?”

“Are—are they coming? My team?” She stammered. She peeked up from her knees, strands of hair messily falling into her face. Villain stared back at her, an eyebrow raised. Hero shrunk backwards.

The woman who’d been watching over her hadn’t been much more than apathetic to the hostage. She asked her name once, gave her’s, then they didn’t speak again unless she was handing her a plate of food and had to prompt Hero into uncurling from the bunched-up lump she’d assumed the past few days.

Villain hadn’t been cruel, but she was a villain—she could be cruel.

“No, not yet.”

“When’s my time up?” Hero asked.

“It was up yesterday.”

“O-oh.” Hero leaned back down into her knees. What was going to happen? The time was up, her team wasn’t going to come, and now…she was entirely at the mercy of the villains that kidnapped her.

“You aren’t going to get hurt, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Hero’s head slammed up again so hard and so fast that she could’ve broken her neck if she had a scrap more strength in her weakened body. “Really?” She managed scratchily.

It wasn’t what she expected to hear—Hero didn’t expect to hear anything at all, and definitely not from her captor that barely even glanced at her unless it was necessary—but even so, the words came as a slight cooling balm to the frantic, erratic thumping of her heart.

Her wide eyes locked with Villain’s eyes, wildly searching her for any sign of deception in her steely gaze.

“I’m in charge of anything that happens to you, and I’m not a big fan of the ‘cutting off a body part per day’ things—its too messy, and I’m the one that has to clean up afterwards.” Villain shrugged. She glanced back down at her phone, but shoved it in her pocket and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “Why isn’t your team coming? I thought heroes were supposed to save people, especially their own teammate.”

Hero hesitated, her mouth dry as she searched for the words to say—if she should speak at all. She wasn’t captured to be friendly with her captors. Saying too much would expose her vulnerabilities, her weaknesses, her insecurities. Things easily manipulated. It would be better to stay silent as she was before and bunch her head back between her knees.

But she hadn’t talked in so long.

Usually, she preferred to be alone and stay silent, but it had been so long without any contact with anybody that she found herself craving a conversation.

“Here, drink this. You don’t want to lose your voice.” Villain said.

Hero barely caught the plastic water bottle.

To Villain’s credit, she hadn’t been unnecessarily cruel with the bonds. Hero’s hands were untied, and she could move them around as she pleased. It was only her right ankle that had a chain around it, attached to a hook in the floor. Even then, it was firm but it wasn’t too tight. She had enough slack from the chain to get up and pace a few steps, if she chose.

It granted Hero the ability to drink the water herself instead of having to rely on somebody else to do it. She had that to be thankful for, she told herself in an effort to calm herself down.

“…th—thank you.” Hero gulped.

Villain took the empty plastic bottle. “My question?” She prompted.

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I tried my hardest—I really did—but,” her voice cracked and tears began to burn in her eyes, “but I’m the dispensable one. I’m not as close with them as they are with each other…I’m just—there.”

She shoved her palms over her eyes, trying to push back the tears to keep them from flowing. She didn’t want to cry. Not with Villain watching.

“So are you going to sit here and wait for them to come?”

“Do I have a choice?” Came the responding sniffle.

What else was she supposed to do? It wasn’t as if she could do much from her prison. The only things to do were sleep, dissociate, wallow in self pity, or stare at the blank wall and do a weird combination of all.

Hero could feel Villain’s eyes honed on her, as palpable as a hawk’s gaze.

“Your deadline already passed, so that means I have full control over you. As I said before, I’m not going to hurt you, I’m not going to chop off your body parts and send it to them in a box, I’m not going to kill you, but I don’t think you want to sit in here everyday for the rest of your life.” Villain answered. “Is that what you want?”

Mutely, Hero shook her head.

“Then you do have an option. You can stay in this room forever, or you can become a villain.”

“B—but—“ Hero gaped. “I—I can’t be a villain, I…” Her heart pounded too loud, throbbing in her ears, jackhammering against her chest as if it would burst that moment.

Villain’s hands on her wrists were cold as ice, but gentle as she moved Hero’s hands aside. “Hero, right? I don’t usually take a vested interest in captives, but I’m taking it in you, so you should use that.”

“Can I—can I have time to think about it?” She croaked. She had all the time in the world. Her—the team wasn’t coming anytime soon.

Villain nodded, stepped away, and within a few seconds, it was back to how it usually was. Villain was back to guarding the door, looking at something on her phone without much interest towards her prisoner, and Hero was shrinking into her body as if it were a shield.

However, this time, Hero wasn’t desperately clinging onto the scrap of hope that the team was coming.

This time…she was considering taking the deal.

The team hasn’t been willing to pay the price of her ransom or come save her from the clutches of evil. If she joined Villain, she could make them pay the price for their betrayal.

#hero x villain #hurt/comfort #angst #captive whumpee #hero whumpee #carewhumper #sapphic #wlw

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13eyond13 · 6 months

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If you don't mind, can I ask something from Death Note? What do you think are Light and L's greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic? Sorry if you've answered these questions before.....

Interesting question! I'll just give a few for both of them: LIGHT'S STRENGTHS: He's extremely good at being patient and keeping calm under ridiculous amounts of pressure, actually. We often remember him for his explosive tantrums, but when you think about it those are pretty rare and usually when he's literally experiencing something that could genuinely see him exposed as the world's worst mass-murderer + get him the death penalty for it.... pretty hard to come up with any bigger stakes than that. I love watching him walk through the methodical steps of his plan and talk himself down from the panic ledges he often finds himself on. He's often so good at thinking ahead and typically makes pretty smart judgment calls (unless his ego kinda trips him up) He's also good at being flexible and utilizing the people/things he's surrounded with to suit his needs and help him achieve his goals. He repurposes many of the things he already owns to be good hiding places for the notebook, for example, and he allows stuff like Misa to become his partner because it was the best solution for his overall goals, even though he clearly didn't think she was actually his ideal romantic match. He's a weirdly pragmatic guy in spite of all his idealism and fussiness about the particulars of his "brand"

He's got time management and organizational skills up the wazoo. All that top student in Japan prep school stuff definitely helped him maximize his "saving the world" and sneaking around kinda schemes. He's good at reading people and figuring out what they want/like and then trying to be that for them. Obviously a strength when it comes to charming and persuading other people to do what he wants and to see things from his POV. LIGHT'S WEAKNESSES: I think he's deathly afraid of making mistakes or disappointing his family or having to consider himself one of the evil people that he grew up thinking were the irredeemable scum that the world would be better off without. He's also got a pretty inflated and fragile ego that is easily bruised by somebody treating him as inferior or mocking him or teasing him in any way. I think partially he's that oversensitive about things because ON SOME LEVEL he really does feel incredibly guilty about what he's doing as Kira, so he reacts with wild lashing out whenever somebody voices those things about him that he's so adamantly refusing to consider or believe. THE TRUTH HURTS, as they say. He's empathetic to a point, but certainly has a sizable cruel streak and seems to enjoy watching other people suffer and die whenever he's the one deciding that they defied him or got in his way as well. And I think the privileged lot in life he had and his young age and the particular family he was born into up makes it so he has a lot of naive blinders on about the complicated reasons things are the way they are, and gives him a very over-simplified black and white version of right and wrong that he sincerely believes he knows best about and can forcibly slot the entire world into for the betterment of all of mankind.

L'S STRENGTHS: -he's really good at marching to his own beat, so to speak? His independence and his seeming indifference to how other people view him or whether or not they approve of him can often help him achieve results that a more compromising or people-pleaser personality probably could not -HE NOTICES ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING. Could definitely put "keen attention to detail" on his resume as one of his big strengths lol -He's great at utilizing the element of surprise. Always has a trick or two up his sleeve, and probably an excellent poker face too - He's pragmatic as hell as well, and I think this helps him make tough judgment calls and remain mentally flexible in the face of big shocking twists and so on whenever he needs to be L'S WEAKNESSES:

-He can be very unsympathetic and blunt to other people during sensitive situations at times, which definitely stresses and offends the people he's relying on, sometimes until they feel like working with him is either not possible or a bad idea -He is so competitive and stubborn and caught up in being right that I think it can sometimes cause him to bite off a lot more than he can chew and get himself into very sticky situations and dangerous messes -He's not very flexible about things like his own routine or habits, which also probably adds to him being quite difficult to work in a team with. He's probably extremely used to working alone and being kind of spoiled and catered to in whatever ways help him personally work best WHAT I LOVE ABOUT THEIR DYNAMIC:

I love how much they're both like. Clearly not very romantic or warm and fuzzy people, yet they both appear to be ridiculously drawn to each other and fascinated by each other, seemingly somewhat against their own wills too hahaha. They literally just become attached at the hip nearly the instant they first start interacting, and neither one of them can barely spare a thought for anybody/anything else the entire rest of the time. They're just really funny together in a chemistry sense, too. I think their senses of humour and senses of fun have a lot of similarities, as well as their not-so-secret senses of superiority about almost always being the smartest person in the room / winners of everything they try. They have fun similarities but also fun differences as well - I love how Light's sort of like the popular social chameleon idealistic optimist and L's sort of the mysterious lone wolf cynical pessimist, and Light's sort of slick and organized yet secretly unhinged and L's sort of shabby and chaotic yet oddly refined. IDK they're just the funniest pair, I think they go together so naturally and so well hahaha

#l lawliet #light yagami #lawlight #ask #anon #p

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lokorum · 8 months

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1 ,6 , 10, 12, 22, 36, 37, 57, 77 for Gortash x Isa ?👀

oh oh ooooooooohhhh thank you so much for your ask!! i hope you'll enjoy reading it!! <;3

1. who’s the primary protector of the two?

hmm, i can easily see at least a couple of reasons why tav if they are durge - gonna be fiercely protective of gortash and vice versa since they're the only two "survivors" of aaaaaall this mess they themselves created years ago. so i think they are kinda on the same lvl here? (especially after events of bg3 uuhhh)

but also - their understanding of "protection" is very different. for isa it's all about making sure that no one in the same room with gortash has access to sharp objects. (he kills rivals, neutralizes threats -that kind of stuff). while enver on the other hand protects through being extra thoughtful - he double checks all possible drawbacks of their plans; willingly spends time to manipulate\misinform people about anything related to bhaal's church; makes sure isa has the best gear and equipment, all that jazz!!

6. who holds a grudge the longest? definitely 10000% i'm absolutely certain - its gortash. if he turns out not to be the most vengeful bitch across the whole sword coast (and the one with a very good memory too) - i'm guilty of misinterpreting this character and should be punished by romancing someone super cute and kind (please dont do this to me).

what made me think that way is a sweet combo of his delusional perception of the world + his self-esteem, i guess? though in more close relationships i imagine him being the kind of person who, when offended, either becomes cold and distant, basically silent-treats you, or acts like nothing happened bc he can't\doesn't have time to process the situation. healthy coop mechanisms? i bet this stinky lil men never heard about them.

isa, well, isa is more of a "i deserve to bleed" kinda person............

10. which of the two is quick to speak and which one is quick to listen? ohhhhhh on any day of the week - gortash is a talkative one!! and isa are getting their "very good boi" badge and a cake for saying more than 100 words in one day (it rarely happens)

12. which of the two rolls their eyes the most often? gortash thinks it's him but he is wrong.

22. Who gets more easily embarrassed? gortash thinks it's not him, but it is.

36. who’s better at dealing with emotional trauma? WELL to paraphrase wendigoon: between planning to usurp all toril and going to the therapy - they chose violence.

37. who’s more foulmouthed? since isa's vocabulary consists mostly of "um", "ha?" and "heh", gortash once again is our winner! i think his criminal past left a mark on his speech, no matter how he plays all lordy and nobly these days. piss him off - and im 99,9% sure you'll hear something coooooolourful.

57. who’s got the highest pain tolerance? ohhh definitely isa for this one!! they can go days and days without treating their wounds, and they are horrible at realising they're wounded in the first place! broken bones, broken and exposed bones, deep cuts, bruises, concussions, knocked out teeth, burned skin, sliced skin, frostbitten skin, you name it - they had it. the way isa treats their body deeply horrified enver when he noticed the pattern but tbh??? sometimes i look at enver and think that he is one of those ppl who will lie down and cry if you slap them

77. who's more likely to execute their threats? both!! it's a family activity.

phphph ive made memes...............................................................................................................................................

#enver gortash #the dark urge #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate #lord gortrash my beloved #ketheric thorm #tagged the grandpa bc of the single meme #but im proud of it so jdfhkjshdfkjhdf

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jadeacereigen · 3 months

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i also always felt like the fandom depicting reigen's childhood as abusive and neglectful never really quite fit. i know that most of it is probably just projection, and it's something i really understand because i've done it before with other characters.

i feel like there's a difference between giving a character trauma that makes sense when taking their canon self into account and giving a character trauma for other unrelated reasons, like comfort or even for fun, to be able to explore the scenarios that would come with it. both are very valid. let the people do what they want, y'know?

but something i feel like people tend to gloss over sometimes is that parents can fuck up when raising you and still not be outright shitty evil people. they can judge you on your career choices and still love you. your friends can make an off the cuff comment that ends up sticking with you in a bad way without realizing, people can suck at showing they care about you while still caring about you, they can be imperfect just as much as you are. it's their first time on this earth too. and it doesn't excuse the times they may have hurt you or made you feel bad about yourself, but it's up to you if you wanna keep them in your life. everyone can change, but that's also up to them.

it gives reigen an added charm [or should i say humanity?], to know that he is a flawed person and that it stems from the things that happened when he was younger, and the people that were in his life, and to know that things don't need to be catastrophic for them to affect and/or change you, whether good or bad. it's a good thing to remember i think. to know that there's so many greys between the white and black. that he has layers. his experiences are very valid.

anywho. sorry for the long ramble i just had to get this out there hehe.

ask game time!!!! 25, 9 and 22

Oh my god no don't apologize you're so right. I agree 100% so I'm gonna answer with my own long ramble.

(Discussions of child abuse below, though nothing that's not present in MP100 canon.)

Yes, it almost feels like people want to dismiss all flawed parenting and strained relationships between parent and child as abuse. There's certainly something very wrong with Reigen and his parents' relationship but I'm gonna be honest, I don't understand how people can find redemption in Toichiro who literally beat up his own son but then at the same time demonize Reigen's parents for the crime of disapproving his life as a CONMAN.

Yes, Reigen actually helps his clients and refuses to take money for things he cannot fix, but he's an incredibly special case and his parents are like most people who have no clue that the supernatural is even real. I personally think IRL psychics are full of shit and prey on the naive and emotionally vulnerable. If I had a kid who quit their normal job and spent all their savings to become a psychic I would not be happy with them! I would hope I wouldn't be as cold and that they wouldn't live in fear of my messages to them but I would definitely be encouraging them to stop that shit and get a "real job". To think that his parents should support his choices in life when he's pretending to be a psychic with no additional context is wild to me. (Also, I can't find the translation anymore but Reigen says in the fanbook that his mom thinks he's being tricked into doing his current job.) Again, they could go about this in a much better way but this disapproval does not inherently point to abuse.

(Sorry this rant got very long so everything else is below the cut.)

I think the biggest thing that points to Reigen's parents not being as awful as they are in fan content is that even after Reigen gets publicly exposed for being a con artist, his mom does tell him to learn his lesson from this but she also takes the time to prepare him an apology, tells him that he should come home (instead of telling him he's not welcome home/disowning him) and emphasizes that she's on his side. Maybe you could consider that the bare minimum of a decent parent but this to me just doesn't feel like she's the hateful abusive mother so often depicted. She could be warmer about it but she's obviously super concerned and wants Reigen to know she cares about him regardless of his actions.

(As for his dad, all we know is that he and Reigen don't talk to each other at all and that he thinks Reigen is unemployed. This relationship is definitely worse than Reigen and his mom's but there's little to go off of in terms of if his dad is a terrible parent or not. His mom seems to think he's worried about Reigen and that would definitely not surprise me.)

In terms of how Reigen feels about his parents, in the fanbook he acknowledges that there have been misunderstandings from both sides and that he'd like to talk things out with them and visit them more often. That's such a real thing lots of people can relate to and I'd love to see that get explored! I want to see Reigen patch things up with his parents! Maybe I'll write out my stupid fic idea for it idk.

I also don't want to stereotype but I am from an East Asian family myself and grew up surrounded by others so I feel like it's safe for me to say that Reigen's parents really remind me of your typical older generation of Asian parents. (Reigen was born in 1984 so his parents would definitely be of the boomer ilk, potentially even the Silent Generation if they had him on the older side.) Reigen also says in the fanbook that his parents are very serious people. Oftentimes with that older generation they just don't really show their care the way you'd normally see it. There may never be any "I love yous" but they'll cut you a plate of fruit without you asking or remember the show you liked 10 years ago and assume you're still into it...

Of course, parental norms in a culture don't justify hurtful parenting. (I mean just watch Everything Everywhere All At Once if you want to see the pain of having a disapproving Asian parent despite knowing they love you and just want what they think is best for you.) His mom fussing over his job and his lack of a girlfriend may be a super "Asian parent" thing, but it definitely hurts Reigen's feelings and she should cut that out. So yeah, Reigen's parents could do a lot better in terms of making Reigen feel supported and loved regardless if they approve of his life choices or not, but Reigen wants to patch things up with them for a reason and I'm hopeful that they can all reach a better understanding with each other.

One thing I also wish the anime showed was that Reigen's mom talks to him on the phone after Separation Arc! We see that in this omake:

Reigen definitely didn't tell his parents his phone number or his home address if his mom had to resort to emailing his business address just to talk to him. But I like to think that after Separation Arc he started letting his mom into his life a bit more...

God this was such a long rant, I'm sorry. One final thing before I get to your questions is that if we really need abusive parents to hate, Teru's non-present parents are ripe for the picking... Just saying.

(ask game)

I'm assuming you mean Reigen for all of these btw

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Gosh I initially thought he was just a silly goofy character who could be annoying and pathetic at times, but I enjoyed his presence on-screen. Then he got deeper in the Season 1 finale and showed just how much he truly cared about Mob... That part definitely got me shook. He only got better and better from there and now he's one of my favorite characters in the story.

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

Jesus christ uh I definitely don't think he'd be a bad roommate and we'd probably get along just fine but I also think I'd annoy the shit out of him. I'm not the best at keeping my space neat and clean. Also the thought of meeting Reigen in person is actually terrifying... Reigen should never exist outside the world of fiction because his pure chaos would be too much for reality.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

Hmm I answered what I don't like last time, but I do like fics that explore his relationship with Mob or Serizawa. I also like seeing him confront more of his personal issues and grow as a person even if he gets a little hurt in the process-

#jade speaks #ask #reigen arataka #hoo boy

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