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#rainbow room sessions
kquil · 2 months
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JAMES POTTER | LIKE LOVERS DO
REQUEST :  hiiiii :) if/when u can, smith like this with james or remus lupin? @bobs-fav-cat
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(art is by gyung_studio on instagram)
SUM : you and James Potter are just friends —friends that act like they’re in a loving relationship.  
TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; idiots in love ; james loves giving you princess treatment ; and you love returning his affections ; just friends being friends ; hehehe~ ; they’re in denial ; domestic fluff ; selfcare session ; biker james? ; james being a sweetheart ; reader being absolute wifey material! ; james and reader being so in love it’s sickening ; the type of sickening that makes you puke rainbows, glitter and love hearts ; mutual pinning! ; slightly based off a tiktok i saw once ; happy ending where they get together ; so much fluff ; scheming gremlin friends ; lily, dorcas and marlene as cupids for reader ; remus, sirius and peter as cupids for james ; idiots in love
LENGTH : 3.6k
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“They should wear a sign,” Peter laughs as he and his close friends eye the pair of oblivious idiots across the room, “one that says ‘we’re actually together no matter how much we deny it’,” 
“You said it,” Sirius raises a hand and the two high-five each other before sniggering between themselves.
Across the hall stood you and James. It was a networking event disguised as a formal company party. And even though you and James weren’t each other’s dates to the event, James wore a matching tie to your chosen dress. The two of you unanimously decided to go with the excuse that you had both gone shopping for an outfit together and unconsciously bought matching things. It was only natural because you two were such good, close friends. 
From a distance, the three watch as you lift your left foot up through the high side-slit of your dress and draw attention to your unbuckled heel with a frown. James’ hazel eyes focuses onto your heel as well and immediately places his flute of champagne on a nearby table to help you, as if it was second nature to him; it is second nature to him— taking care of you. He’s kneeling down and re-buckling your heel for you as your hand tentatively places itself on his broad shoulder for balance. 
Once James is finished, he stands back up with a grin, takes up his flute with one hand and wraps his other around your waist to pull you into his side with a smile. Neither of you flinch at the closeness, in fact, you snuggle further into your best friend’s side and tuck your head under his chin so he can place a kiss onto the crown of your head. 
“Wanna bet on who folds first?” Remus speaks up with a devious smirk, Sirius and Peter eagerly voicing their predictions and placing their bets. 
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“Oh Jamie!” you gasp and smile widely as your best friend presents you with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, “They’re beautiful,” he helps the floral arrangement into your arms with a satisfied grin, a fondness in his eyes as he watches you savour the scent of the pretty blossoms.
“My pleasure, my dear,” he regales dramatically as you giggle, “I passed by the florist on my way back from lunch at the pub with the boys and thought you’d like them,”
“I do like them,” you lean forward and kiss him on the cheek, “you’re so thoughtful, thank you for thinking of me, James,”
His warm smile softens further and he kisses your temple lovingly, “of course,” aside from the lingering scent of your shampoo and conditioner, James picks up on something more appetising, “what’s that delicious smell, angel?”
“Oh!” reminded of your earlier activities, you lead him into your kitchen where you proceed to find a vase for the arrangement in your arms, “I was baking—”
“Treacle tart!” James cheers and does a goofy little dance in the middle of your kitchen, his excitement obvious. 
“It’s almost done so you popped in at just the right time,” you giggle softly whilst transferring the arrangement into your chosen vase. With a pleased hum, James presses up behind you and places his large hands on the curve of your hips, his thumbs tenderly stroking up and down until he eventually pushes the hem of your shirt up, caressing your soft skin beneath. 
“Mmmmm… lucky me,” he whispers happily into your shoulder, where he begins trailing kisses up your neck. His words send a shiver up your spine and you resist the escalating urge to turn in his arms and lead his lips to cover and press against your own. 
You’re just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. 
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James can’t get over how cute you are. 
Even when you’re doing the most mundane things, he can’t help but find you adorable. Like right now. Even with a bright green clay mask on your face, you are adorable, perched on his lap with your knees on either side of his thighs as you spread the same treen mask over his skin. 
“Stop moving, Jamie!” you chastise gently whilst stifling a giggle. 
“You stop moving,” he counters playfully and emphasises his words by placing his big hands on your hips and squeezing your curves briefly. Your only response is to laugh and do your best to continue applying an even coat onto his face. 
“….there!” you huff and set aside your tool to close the clay mask tub, “all done, no thanks to you!” He tickles your sides in retaliation as you climb off his lap and reach for your phone in order to set a timer. His antics were a brief distraction as you bless him with your tinkling giggles. 
“For how long do we keep this on?” 
“15 minutes,” 
He pulls a face, one that makes him look like a duck as he ponders over his thoughts. He looks so ridiculous, especially with the green mask on his face — it was only naturally for you to burst out laughing, “what should we do until then?”
“Stop talking,”
“Wha—?!”
“Not like that, Jamie,” you coo as he pouts dramatically, “we have to stop talking soon or else the mask will crack too much as it dries,” he makes a long noise of realisation at your words and nods obediently, zipping his lips before throwing away the imaginary key. 
No matter what he does, he’s always making you laugh. You’re sure that, even if you’re temporarily banning him from speaking, he would still be able to make you laugh and your clay mask will end up looking like a dried up riverbed. 
You have no complaints, though. 
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You weren’t expecting it but you still weren’t too surprised when you see James waiting for you outside — just in time to pick you up after a night out with your close girl friends. He was wearing one of your favourite sweaters of all time, it was soft and big (big enough to make him appear deceivingly smaller than you know his figure is) and is the warmest thing you’ve ever worn. 
“James!” you call out, happy to see him. The build up of fatigue from the whole night melts off your aching limbs like powdered snow under golden sunbeams. Running to him, he greets you with his heart-stopping smiles.
“You look beautiful,” he whispers as soon as he has his arms wrapped around you. 
“Stop it,” you sigh into his shoulder, your face buried into the soft fabric of his sweater, “I look a mess after tonight,” 
He pulls away, enough to meet your eyes and examine your face without having to remove his arms from around you, “If this is you looking a ‘mess’, then I wonder what type of beauty you were earlier tonight,”
His comment makes your heart soar but you don’t let it show on your face, even when he wiggles his eyebrows comically to emphasise his flattering remark. Instead, you narrow your eyes at him before slipping out of his arms and biting your lip at the confused, pitiful whine he lets out. You don’t leave him miserable for long, however, as you’re quickly reaching down to lift up his sweater so that you could pull it over your head and burrow yourself inside. Like the living furnace he is, you’re greeted by such a comforting heat, you forget that you’re both still outside in the wet cold of the night. 
Throwing his head back, James laughs and wraps you up in his arms again, laying his cheek against the top of your head through his sweater. The first time you ever did this, he wasn’t shy about saying how much he loved it. And now, you’ve made it a tradition to do this often during the autumn and winter months. Admittedly, you loved cuddling him like this too; it’s more intimate and you love being surrounded by his warmth. It was a bonus that his scent literally has you in a choke hold under there. You’d happily suffocate on the smell of his cologne, laundry detergent and natural smell. But it also feels as though you’re falling into a trance by some alluringly scented spirit.
“As much as I love holding you like this, dear, I’m still on a mission to get you home safe so…” he looks down at you, hazel eyes turning soft at the adorable sight of you cuddled up to him under his sweater, “can my princess please let me help her into my car and drive her back home safely?”
You didn’t respond, only pouted and whined to express your dislike of pulling away from him as well as the warmth of his soft sweater. James knew instantly what to do. You two were best friends after all; it was a requirement for him to know all your needs telepathically. It was an awkward shuffling of limbs but James managed to slip off his sweater without needing to lift it off your figure and hoists you into his arms before you could start grumbling at the loss of his embrace.
“Not long now — my princess will arrive at her carriage soon~” he sings in a whisper beside your ear, smiling fondly at your soft giggles and adoring the way you wrap your arms around his neck to cuddle him close before needing to pull away so he can carefully sit in his car’s passenger seat. 
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“Oh, come on!” Marlene gives an exasperated sigh as you examine the array of snacks laid out before you. In your peripheral, you observe how Lily doesn’t make any moves to stop Marlene from pestering you; instead a small smirk tugs at the corners of her lips, secretly enjoying and wanting to take part in Marlene’s badgering. 
“You come on,” you throw back with a light-hearted glare, “I thought we were going to buy snacks for movie night, not grill me on my friendship with James,”
“Friends, huh?” Dorcas arches a brow as Lily stifles a giggle beside her. All three were eyeing you mischievously as a heat flushes across your cheeks. 
“Stop it you guys,”
“We’ll stop as soon as you stop playing the friendship game with James!” Lily bargains, unable to hold herself back anymore, and you try your hardest not to roll your eyes while your cheeks flood with a familiar warmth. 
“We’re just friends,” it was a painful admission but you’d rather have what you have right now with James than ever risk sabotaging it. 
Marlene examines a strand of her golden hair as Lily leans against her side, “James acts more of a boyfriend to you than just a friend,”
Dorcas speaks up with a hint of impishness, “and I can prove it~”
“How?” you challenge, raising your chin ever so slightly in silent provocation. But Dorcas has no reaction, she just continues to smirk at you. 
“I’m gonna need your phone first,” you hesitate from the devilish sparkle in her eyes but eventually relent, cursing the weakness that was a result of your aching heart. Dorcas types away on your phone for a moment as Marlene and Lily peer over her shoulder and snicker at what they read. She doesn’t allow you to read the message she typed out before hitting send and handing your phone back
It takes a moment for you to get over your shock and look through the message she sent. It was sent straight to James, lovingly named as ‘My Idiot ❤️’ in your contacts, and it read: ‘James, this scary looking guy keeps following me around in the shop and it’s creeping me out! I can’t find the girls either 😰 what do I do?’. Your jaw drops and you can’t find any words to voice whatever it is you’re feeling; a mix of anger, upset, shock and creeping curiosity over what they have planned.  
Not a minute goes by and your phone is getting rapid notifications from James messaging you, he even tries to call you but the girls snatch your phone away before you could answer. They shake their heads at you and you huff, crossing your arms. You would have protested more from the rising anxiety you feel over having to lie to James but you were so curious. In the end, you reluctantly accept their plotting and try to prepare yourself for what’s to come.
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For a minute, the message notifications stop from your phone and Lily feels her phone buzz from inside her bag. The three giggle as Lily rushes to take out her phone. From the side lines, you continue observing everything with your heart pounding rapidly in your chest. Lily types back a response and all three look up at you in unison, their eyes swimming with mischief.
“I’m setting a stopwatch to see how long just-friend-Potter gets here,” Marlene snickers and you groan, Dorcas and Lily giggling on either side of her. As much as you love them, they’re such a nuisance sometimes…
You could only guess that Lily sent him her location and now all of you were left patiently waiting for James to appear. 
Not even 15 minutes passes before James comes storming into view, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in all black and without his glasses. Even without his glasses on, when James glances over and catches a glimpse of you, recognition crosses his unfriendly features and he storms over. Within seconds, he’s pulling you into a warm embrace. 
“Oh thank god,” he breathes a sigh of relief and presses his face into your hair, “you’re okay… —are you okay?” you look up as he pulls away and searches for your eyes, squinting to be able to do so without the aid of his glasses. 
“Y-yeah, I’m alright. The umm, the creep disappeared a little while ago,” you muster a small smile of reassurance, still uncomfortable with lying to him, before managing to softly ask your burning question, “why aren’t you wearing your glasses?” habitually, you feel about for the breast pocket of the leather jacket he has on and pull out his circular specs. 
As you carefully clean his lenses on your shirt, he goes to explain, “I wanted to look scary so that creep leaves you alone,” you’re quick to realise that without his glasses he would be forced to squint so that it looks like he’s glaring. It also clicks in your head that he wore all black so he could look even more intimidating. It was unusual for him to wear just black, normally that was Sirius’ thing, but you’re not complaining; James looks really attractive dressed in black, his hair tousled around messily and without his glasses on.
“Thank you, Jamie,” he grins boyishly after you put his glasses back on for him, taking a moment to adjust them until they sit aligned and comfortable. By habit, you comb your fingers through his untamed hair and James, in turn, presses a kiss to your temple. 
“I’m just glad you’re okay, princess,” your heart skips a beat at the nickname — he’s called you that so many times but he’s reserved it especially for you and it makes you feel so special, “do you want me to give you a ride home?” he lifts up the motorbike helmet in his hand, which you immediately recognise. Your curious eyes meet his hazel hues and he smiles bashfully, “I borrowed Sirius’ bike to get here quicker…” he shuffles around his feet, nervous under your gaze —he hate lying to you too, “okay okay… I took his bike without asking but I promise to give it back as soon as I get you home safe!” 
You give a small giggle and wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into his muscular chest. It’s an embrace that James eagerly returns, petting your hair whilst speaking over your head once he finally spots your three friends. 
“Are you guys okay too?”
“Gee, thanks for the concern, Potter,” Marlene rolls her eyes as Lily and Dorcas crack up, “yeah, we’re good,” 
“Good, good,” James immediately goes back to focus on holding you close and kissing the crown of your head, affectionate and sweet. You could always rely on him to be there for you no matter what and the thought made butterflies explode into a fluttering haze in your stomach. 
Dorcas had proven her point. 
It was clear now that James prioritised you over anyone else. And you didn’t know whether to be flustered and scream for joy or melt into a puddle of goo. 
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“She’s not my girlfriend so shut up,” James huffs and groans as he rolls over to lay on his stomach across the length of the sofa whilst Remus, Sirius and Peter sat in a scattered array about the living room. 
“Says the motorbike thief,” Sirius hisses playfully, shooting a superficial glare at his long time best friend/non-blood-related brother. 
“She really does act like your girlfriend more than your friend, Prongs,” Remus chimes up, setting his book aside as Peter offers him several cubes of chocolate. 
“I don’t get why you two don’t just date each other,” it was Peter who speaks up this time and James can’t help but roll his eyes that even Peter was on his ass about this. 
“That’s right! You don’t get it!” they wait for him to continue with a ‘so’ before demanding something but James just presses his burning hot face into a cushion and has a silent tantrum.  
“I’ll prove you wrong!” Sirius claims boldly and when James looks over, his biker friend was rapidly typing away at his phone, “I’ll give it around 20 minutes until she gets here,” 
James raises a brow, “Who?”
“Your not-girlfriend, of course!” 
“What did you say?” Remus asks what they were all wanting the answer to. 
“Oh nothing~ just that Jamesie-kins over here is really upset over something but doesn’t want to tell us why so we don’t know what to do to help him feel better,” Sirius fakes a pout and watery eyes as James gapes at him, horrified. 
“HOW IS THAT GONNA PROVE ANYTHING?!”
“If she gets here in 20 minutes then that means she prioritises your hurt feelings over going to her favourite over-priced restaurant with Pandora,” James’ eyes nearly bulge out. 
“That’s today?!”
Sirius’ devious smirk was answer enough. 
“I say 10 minutes!” Peter bets. 
“15!” Remus adds on.  
Remus wins the bet when you get there 14 minutes after Sirius’ text message was sent. Your arms are piled up high with James’ favorite junk food snacks, ranging from sweet to savoury. Over your shoulders, you wear your fluffiest blanket (James’ favourite) as a cape and rush forward to drape it over him. No time was wasted as you silently move around their shared flat at lightening speed, putting on the TV and switching to his favourite, comfort show, laying out his snacks on the coffee table and putting the kettle on before snuggling down under the blanket with him. It was a tight fit for the two of you on the sofa but neither of you minded; you were both cuddle bugs and enjoyed the closeness. 
“Get out, you three! Leave Jamie and I alone!” you speak for the first time to shoo the three boys away. They happily oblige, Remus smirking as Sirius and Peter cough up their betted amounts and close the living room door behind them. 
For a long moment, you merely stay there, your arms wrapped around James’ shoulders, one hand lovingly petting his hair as your other presses his face into your chest. James wasn’t shy about voicing how this was his most comforting position for cuddles and it made his heart race that you had cancelled your long awaited plans just to console him. 
“What’s wrong Jamie?” you finally ask, voice soft and slow with patience, “Sirius told me you weren’t feeling so well… but you’re not ill? Are you?” he feels you press the back of your hand against his forehead to check his temperature as he finally locks his strong arms around your midsection and pulls you even closer, “No you’re not, thank goodness,” he falls in love with the relief he hears in your voice. He loves falling in love with you over and over again; it’s so easy, “what can I do to help?”
He doesn’t know why he held back for so long. It was all so clear now. The fact that your eyes sparkled around him the way his did when he looked at you was so unbelieved before, he kinda just voluntarily blinded himself. But now, it was like he was seeing colours for the first time. James just can’t believe it took Sirius, of all people, to make him realise it. What a joke… he almost wants to laugh. But he can’t, not when his heart was ready to beat out of his chest for you. 
“Jamie?”
“…a kiss…” it was a whisper but you heard him so clearly. And he knows because he heard your breath hitch. 
“—what?”
“I want a kiss…to feel better,”
Not wanting to raise your hopes, you press a kiss to his forehead and your heart deafens your ears as it beats loudly against your eardrums. 
“A proper kiss,” he raises his head and pulls up to level his lips with yours, his hazel eyes melting your gaze, “like lovers do,”
You’ve waited so long for this moment that you couldn’t even fathom that it was actually happening and your entire world slowed to a standstill. It wasn’t until James had pressed his full lips against yours that you felt your senses come to life with so much intensity that you felt like you wanted to faint. But you wouldn’t dare miss your first kiss for anything. 
Like lovers do, you kissed. Like lovers do, you embraced. Like lovers do, you whispered sweet words, a life long promise, to one another, “I love you,” 
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A/N : this started off as a timestamp that i sneakily wrote this request into (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.゚ i didn’t know how to conclude it at first but i just kept writing and writing and now it’s finished haha! i hope you darlings enjoy the read! and i would also like to humbly tag my beloved moot @diputy for reasons she understands on a deep level (⸝⸝⸝• ω •⸝⸝⸝) ♡
TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @fallencrescentmoon @topaz125 @xxrougefangxx @starchaser-lily @probablypossesedbysatan @agent-tempest @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision
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cold-kitty · 10 days
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Today's poll winner was... Yandere Neuvillette! (HAPPY ASS SQUEALING I LOVE HIM SO MUCH)
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DISCLAIMER: I only know a little about him, I only just started Fontaine, so sorry if anything is super wrong.
Contains: Thoughts of kidnapping, slight depression for Neuvillette, angsty (if you squint), actual love <3
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Yan!Neuvillette is definitely a guilty yandere, he hates that he's like this.
Yan!Neuvillette had someone find him an office helper, someone to tidy a bit, help with cases possibly, maybe get him some water here and there. and that's all you were for a while.
Yan!Neuvillette who finds himself drawn to you, catching himself stealing a glance every now and then.
Yan!Neuvillette who at first thinks that he just likes you, might as well like each other if you work together after all. but he finds his chest swelling every time he looks at you, a lovely yet almost painful feeling.
Yan!Neuvillette who is much happier when you're around him, it's almost always a sunny day.
Yan!Neuvillette who finds himself jealous when you're around other people, especially if you're laughing or touching them.
Yan!Neuvillette who finds himself dreaming about having you all to himself, keeping you in a lavish room...
Yan!Neuvillette who wakes up in a cold sweat, disgusted with himself. he avoids you at work, it was cloudy that day.
Yan!Neuvillette who doesn't see you at work the next day, and he starts to feel guilty. did you feel bad because he avoided you? were you sick? it was extra cloudy that day.
Yan!Neuvillette who doesn't see you the next day either. he spends that day crying at his desk, wondering if it's his fault. it was rainy that day.
Yan!Neuvillette who ends up sobbing the next day, getting absolutely no work done. the town was under flood warning that day.
Yan!Neuvillette who prepares himself for another crying session the next day only to see you waiting in his office. he lunges at you, quite literally, and almost falls to his feet as he squeezes you into a desperate hug.
Yan!Neuvillette who feels a mix of great relief when you tell him that you were just sick, watching as you try to awkwardly return the hug. he tells you that he'll make you soup the next time you get sick, so just tell him.
Yan!Neuvillette who wants nothing more than to hold you like this all day, and he sort of does, making sure he's near you at all times. it was dribbling slightly that day, but it was extremely sunny. his chest was full of that swelling feeling, that lovely, painful feeling of love all day.
Yan!Neuvillette who watches as you excitedly point out the window, confused at first, but then he sees...
a rainbow as beautiful as you.
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SCREAMING CRYING PISSING MYSELF I LOVE HIM SO MUCH
I definitely spent a lot of time on this one, (I am delusional and I have an actually unhealthy obsession with him) so I hope it was good!
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RANDOM BUT LOOK AT MY DOOR
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ITS NEUVIEEEEEE (send help)
~🐈‍⬛
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mvnsvn6 · 6 months
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Have a mini fic about Steve annotating books and Eddie finding it really hot🖤
So obviously, Eddie's a bookworm. Before he had any friends, he spent the better parts of his childhood at Hawkins Library after school and Hawkins Middle's library during any recesses and lunches. He constantly read books, this was before Wayne got him a guitar and before he got into dnd, and being a bookworm tremendously helped him fuel both of those hobbies later on. But before then? The library was like a second home to him. 
And so, recently founding out that Steve reads, like a lot, is something of a revalation. It's not that Eddie thinks the guy is stupid, but he figured the guy spent time doing other productive hobbies at home. But the guy reads, and as previously mentioned, Eddie considers himself a literature connoisseur of sorts. Writing book reports and essays were one of the few things he actually excelled at in high school. 
So anyway, he found out that Steve is a book nerd by finding one of Steve's books open on his bed. Not really the strangest thing that Eddie's come across in Steve's room if he's being honest, and not the biggest indicator of nerdiness, until he focuses his attention and acknowledges the bright colors sprawled across the pages. 
A burst of rainbow colors underlining what Eddie guesses are his favorite parts of the story or important stuff he wanted to remember. And obviously, Eddie has to ask him about it. and Steve explains to him that he has a whole color key and it's made up of romantic lines that make him feel warm, sad stuff that makes him tear up, stuff that is word for word undoubtedly Steve Harrington sprawled on a page. Steve won't tell him which color is which, too embarrassed by it, but he lets Eddie read through them, and then he stares at Steve in unyeilding fondness. 
The look reflected on Steve's is not the same, mostly anxiety and insecurity, which Eddie immediately wants to soothe. It's so so sweet he thinks but Eddie's mouth translates the words into, "That's so fucking hot." Which, shit man, it is but he hadn't meant to say it out loud. 
"Shut up, dude, don't make fun of me right now." 
And listen, books are everything to him, this is no joking matter. They inspire his own stories, whether through a dnd campaign or writing song lyrics. It's honestly probably the most attractive thing a person could do in Eddie's opinion, he didn't know how hot until right about now, but he'll die on this hill. Annotating your books is hot. 
"Listen to me when I say this Steve, while that is the nerdiest thing I've ever heard and I'm, ya know, me. It's also about the most attractive thing that's come out of that pretty mouth of yours, like ever."
And Steve folds his arms across his fucking beautifully sculpted chest and narrows his eyes just slightly, raising a judgemental eyebrow at him. 
"You're being serious."
Oh he's never been more serious about anything in his life. 
"Uh...yeah? Yes. Oh my god."
Yeah, real eloquent Edward. 
Whatever, his heart is pounding profuesely against his rib cage because holy shit Steve is a book nerd and Eddie wants to kiss him fucking yesterday. So he gets on all fours on Steve's bed to lean forward and basically attacks his mouth before he can even think about it. 
And when he pulls back, Steve's pupils are blown wide and his breath has picked up pace, and Steve keeps bouncing between looking at Eddie's eyes and his lips. 
"You just kissed me."
It comes out disbelieving. 
"Yeah and with your permission I'd like to continue, like stat, immediately, now."
"You're insane."
And hands weave through curls and pull. 
Eddie tumbles foward, ending fully sprawled on top of Steve, and, jesus christ, body pressed impossibly close to his. 
And after they're romantic, read: nerdy horniness, little makeout session, he forces Steve to read the annotations himself, going through all the books that are important to Steve. He has to stop himself from moaning to really emphasize how hot he finds it, and to make Steve slightly embarrassed, but refrains. Just lets him continue. 
Eddie has never been so in love in his life.
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videovamptramp · 6 months
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i would do anything for you to love me
(song: american hero - rainbow kitten surprises // natasha x fem reader)
summary - you have an obvious crush on natasha, and consistently do little things that prove so. though, she’s a grump who doesn’t know how to respond to your advances. this ultimately leads to her hurting your feelings.
warnings: mean nat, grumpy natasha, y/n is too sweet for her own good. a bit angsty but fluffy ending
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
“hey nat!” you exclaim, and natasha nearly drops her coffee mug due to the sound of your high pitched voice. natasha turns to glare at you, “how many times do i have to tell you not to call me that?" she snaps, and your shoulders deflate a bit. “sorry, natasha! i just wanted to see if you were alright. you came back from that mission yesterday and you didn’t even have dinner...” you say, and natasha turns her head to keep her back towards you. “i’m fine.” it was an obvious lie, but natasha didn’t know that you knew that.
you merely nod, “okay, nat— natasha. i just brought you some of those banana and nutella crepe’s you like from that place downtown. here.” you reveal, as you place the to-go box on the counter that the redhead was leaning on. “thanks.” natasha mutters, and you smile widely at the small moment of politeness. natasha turns her head to see you smiling like an idiot, and her scowl returns as something unwanted in her stomach flutters. “is that all you wanted?” natasha asks a bit harshly, and your smile falters. “oh, yeah! sorry! i’ll leave you alone now!” you promise as you scurry away, leaving natasha alone. at least she thought she was alone.
“god, you’re such a cunt.” yelena murmurs, half asleep as she walks into the kitchen of the compound. natasha glares at her younger sister, “well good morning to you too.” natasha hisses, and yelena rolls her eyes as she reaches for a clean mug. yelena doesn’t say anything else to the redhead as she pours herself a cup of fresh coffee. "what has you in such a crap mood?” natasha asks, evidently annoyed. “nothing. i just figured we were all being asshole’s today, considering how you just behaved with y/n.” yelena’s response causes natasha to scoff. “oh please, i’m always like that with her. she’s like, borderline obsessed with me. nothing i say bothers her.” the older woman explains with a careless shrug, and yelena blinks at her sister in disbelief.
“she has a crush on you, идиот (idiot). god forbid somebody actually cares about you.” yelena whispers with a hiss in order to keep herself from snapping at her sister. natasha rolls her eyes, “i don’t want her to care about me. i don’t care about her at all. the sooner she realizes that, the better.” natasha simplifies, and shakes her head in dismay, before scoffing. ”you don’t deserve her anyways.” yelena mutters as she reaches for the to-go box that was originally for natasha. natasha glares, “that’s mine—” “you don’t deserve it.” yelena cuts in with a snarky tone, before she takes the crepes and coffee back to her room, leaving natasha alone.
natasha throws her coffee out into the sink, by now it's gone dog-nose cold. she tries to continue on with her day after that, though her thoughts of you, and the amount of unnecessarily sweet things you do for her, circulate through her mind. the way you leave files on her desk with cute little sticky notes. you bring her lunch or dinner up to her room, whenever she’s too mentally exhausted to join the team in the kitchen. you even bring her a protein shake after her practices and training sessions. natasha doesn’t remember telling you her favorite flavor protein shake, but you somehow know it’s peanut butter and chocolate.
the next morning natasha wakes up, and the kitchen is abnormally empty. she opens the cabinet, hoping someone bought new coffee so she wouldn’t have to. low and behold, there was a weeks worth of coffee in the cabinet with a sticky note and your handwriting on it.
“hey natasha! i’m going out of town for a week but i restocked the place with your favorite things! — y/n.”
natasha reaches for the note, and frowns. out of town? you didn’t mention a vacation to her. then again, she hadn’t really been in a talking mood yesterday. she never really was. “morning natasha. oh sweet!! someone bought coffee!” bucky exclaims as he reaches for the new tub of coffee beans. natasha stuffs the note in her pocket, “hey, where’s y/n?” natasha asks, and bucky furrows his brows. “she went out of town to visit her family for a week. i thought she told everyone about it the other day?” bucky questions, and natasha thinks back to a few days ago.
“hey nat!” you exclaim, your bubbly voice filling the gym as you bounce in. natasha scowls at the sight of you, “what do you want?” she asks, sounding harsher than usual. “oh, i was just looking for you to tell you something! i brought your shake!” you admit as you hand her the protein shake. “look, y/n, whatever you have to say, save it. i’m not in the mood today.” she snaps, and you frown. “o-oh okay. sorry nat i—”
“and my name is natasha!” she raises her voice and you flinch a bit. a wave a of guilt washes over her for a second, but she keeps her arms crossed and a glare on her face. “sorry natasha.” you mumble before walking out, and leaving natasha to train. “wow.” wanda chirps in, and natasha looks over at the other redhead. “what?” natasha asks angrily, “she just wanted to give you a shake and have a conversation.” wanda points out, and natasha rolls her eyes. “i don’t want to talk to her. and i didn’t ask her to make me a shake. i never ask her for anything. you’d think she’d take the hint and stop already.” natasha grumbles, and wanda nods. “well, maybe one day she will. i do think you’ll miss the actions more than she will though. so be careful what you wish for.” wanda warns, and natasha waves her off with narrowed her eyes as shoves her earbuds in and takes a big chug of her shake. it’s peanut butter and chocolate. her favorite.
“i guess she forgot to tell me.” natasha mutters, and bucky nods. “well, she’ll be back on sunday night.” he assures her as he opens the fridge. “oh sweet, there’s new bacon!!” he exclaims in a giddy tone, and natasha swallows thickly. you’re not here and you still did something for her.
natasha feels your absence throughout the day. it’s as if the compound is dimmer, and lacking any life. nobody brings natasha her shake, and she had to make it herself; though it doesn’t taste as good as when you make it. natasha always uses too much peanut butter. the rest of natasha’s day is no better. she doesn’t join the team for dinner, and she isn’t greeted by the sound of your soft knocks and a plate of her favorite foods.
natasha’s entire week without you is unexpectedly hell. for some reason, you seem to be the only person who seeks natasha out. you know when she’s having a bad day, you know when she’s had a terrible mission, you even know when she’s in a good mood. natasha doesn’t understand how you know all these things about her, she’s never once bothered to open up to you. it makes her feel a surge of guilt as she recalls all the times you’d try to talk to her, and she’d turn you down. she wishes she understood why she suddenly felt so weak without you. why her days dragged on when she didn’t hear the sound of your voice.
you return on sunday night, and as soon as natasha sees you, she knows somethings wrong. you smile at her, but you don’t greet her with your usual “hey nat!”. you drag your bags up to your room, and without a word you don’t come out until the morning. natasha doesn’t sleep that night; you’ve been gone for a week, and you didn’t even bother to say hello to her. why? you’re in the kitchen the next morning, chatting with yelena, “hey natasha.” you greet her with a soft smile. she doesn’t enjoy the way her full name sounds rolling off your tongue, despite how many times she demanded it.
“morning.” she greets back, eyeing you for a moment before shuffling passed bucky and thor to the coffee machine. natasha makes herself a cup of coffee, and can’t help but listen to you and yelena quietly talk about some show yelena’s watching. she doesn’t understand why it bothers her that you’re talking to someone else and not her. it’s what she wanted isn’t it? to be left alone by you. natasha huffs, and is out of the kitchen as soon as her mug is full of piping hot coffee.
today you don’t bring natasha a shake, and you don’t go out of your way to see or talk to her. natasha is in a grumpier mood than usual because of it. she hopes this is just a momentary thing. maybe you’re just taking it out on her for the way she acted before you left. you’ll be back to normal again by tomorrow. right? natasha doesn’t know why she's hoping that’s the case.
that definitely isn’t the case. the next three days pass and you barely say a word to natasha. you still smile at her, but the shine in your eyes seems to have disappeared. natasha has a haunting realization that you may have realized what yelena has been saying all along; you deserve better. better than natasha and her complex moods. better than the way she treats you. better than her and her need to push away anyone who truly cares about her.
natasha hasn’t been to dinner with the team for two weeks now, and you haven’t once brought her a plate. something about the sudden distance makes natasha inexplicably angry. your cheerfulness in your voice is gone whenever speaking to her, and she can’t figure out why your smile doesn’t reach your eyes like it did before. it takes two and a half weeks of this for natasha to get fed up and finally do something about it. she finds you on the treadmill in the gym alone, getting your cardio in.
this time, natasha tries a different approach. she brings you a protein shake. “hey. this is for you.” natasha says bluntly, and it causes your running to falter as you stop the electric machine and face natasha. she’s holding out a chocolate shake, and you eye it carefully. “i swear i didn’t poison it.” she promises, and you raise your eyebrows. “did— did you make it? for me?” you ask a bit uncertainly. natasha’s brows are scrunched together, and she scoffs.
“well, i don’t see anyone else in here do you?” she asks impatiently, still holding the protein shake. you gladly take it, and a small smile tugs at your lips. “thanks natasha.” you thank her, before taking a sip. it has way too much chocolate in it, but you don’t mind. the gesture is undoubtedly sweet. natasha stands there for a moment, and you blink up at her. “it’s good.” you obviously lie politely in order to spare her feelings, and natasha rolls her eyes. “you make them better than i do.” she grunts out, making your smile widen.
for some reason the curve on your lips makes natasha’s chest flutter. she clears her throat, “i’m uh— i’m sorry if i scared you off. i don’t take to kindness too well... your little acts of genuine kindness scared me. it wasn’t my intention to be such a jerk to you.” natasha apologizes, refusing to meet your eyes. you’re a bit surprised by the unexpected apology, and you shake your head quickly. “you didn’t!” you respond without thinking, “you didn’t scare me off... the truth is it’s been a tough few weeks for me. i’m not very close with my parents and whenever i visit, a fight always breaks out. it wasn’t my intention to make you think i was shutting you out, i’ve just been a little sad since going back home.” you promise, and her eyes widen.
“wait, so you... you aren’t angry with the way i’ve been treating you?” she asks and you shrug. “sure, sometimes you hurt my feelings, but sometimes i can see in your eyes how much you’re hurting. you deserve kindness, natasha. even if you don’t know how to accept it.” your voice is sincere, and natasha’s heart feels like it’s being squeezed so tightly it might pop. something inside of her snaps and she doesn’t even feel the tears brimming in her eyes. your eyes almost widen at the sight of her tears, “why? why are you so nice to me all the time?” natasha asks in a frustrated manner. why is it impossible to hate you? why doesn’t she want to?
“because i know what it feels like when the world hasn’t been kind. like i said, you deserve kindness, natasha.” you iterate, and the redhead lets her chest rise and fall before saying “yo-you can call me nat.” the smile you give her makes it feel like someone lit a match in her belly.
after that, there’s quite a difference in your friendship with natasha; if you could even call it a friendship. the two of you were nearly always together; during breakfast, during training sessions. on late nights doing paperwork, you’d keep natasha company, and she didn’t mind. it goes on like this for a few months, the subtle flirting, light touches, and longing looks. everyone on the team notices, including you both. the problem is, neither of you are brave enough to make the first move.
until you’re both put on a mission with peter and steve. it’s supposed to be an easy mission; peter and steve infiltrate the building across town with the databases and broadcasts, while natasha sets up a bomb in the secret hydra location downtown. except, it’s two minutes passed the time natasha’s supposed to have came out, and she still isn’t here. “steve— don’t start the bomb, nat’s not here yet.” you order, “what? *static* — do you mean— *static* —ot there?” steve’s mics chooses the worst time to start cutting out.
“rogers, stop the plan i’m going in for nat!” you say, and the mic goes silent. “steve?” you ask, but you don't get a response. within a moment a loud explosion sounds throughout the building, and your eyes go wide as the blood goes straight to your ears. you don’t even think twice before rushing out of the van, and running into the building. your eyes dart around, and you find the stairway right way. you go downstairs to where natasha’s supposed to be, and your eyes widen as you see she’s pretty busy fighting off three guys.
you rush over and pry one guy away from her, punching him square in the nose, then kicking him in the crotch. natasha uses one of her widow bites to tase the man, and she doesn’t notice you pulled your gun out until she hears the first shot. she looks over and sees the large man slump forward, and you don’t hesitate to shoot the other right between the eyes. natasha has never seen you use a gun before, and it causes her mouth to go dry for a moment.
you look at her, acting on complete instinct, as you grab her wrist and pull her for the nearest exit. not even a second after you push her out of the building, and stumble on top of her, the building collapses. surely leaving no survivors on the inside. you let out a silent breath of relief, nearly forgetting you’re literally on top of natasha romanoff. natasha pushes you off, glaring at you, “are you out of your fucking mind?!” the redhead shouts, and you frown up at her, propping yourself up on your wrists as she stands up. “why are you yelling at me!?” you ask loudly, your ears still ringing from the explosion.
“because you’re an idiot! you were supposed to follow orders and wait in the van!” natasha looks like shes seething, clenching her fists as she glowers at you. the police sirens snap you guys out of your feud, as you stand up. “get back in the van.” you order, and she scoffs as she follows you back into the van. as soon as you're both in, you speed away from the scene.
“rogers? parker? are you there?” natasha asks, as she uses the emergency walkie. “we’re here, natasha. where y/n? she was trying to tell me something before we got cut out.” steve says over the walkie talkie, and you look over your shoulder, “nothing. it doesn’t matter now.” you say, and natasha glares at you. “doesn’t matter?! you could’ve died! she completely went off orders and ran into the building, rogers.” natasha throws you under the bus and your eyes widen. “what?? y/n, you were supposed to wait in the van!” he reminds and you huff in frustration, hands gripping the steering wheel as you drive back to the compound.
“we’ll talk about this when we meet back at the compound.” steve adds, and your shoulder slouch a bit. you know you’re in for it. when you get to the compound, natasha completely ignores you as she practically stomps to the elevator. you sigh as you watch you her walk away. “y/n, your bleeding.” steve points out, as he gestures to your shoulder. “i think one of the guys i was fighting had a knife or something? it’s just a slash.” you assure him, and peter shakes his head. “that’s a pretty deep slash.” he mutters and steve flashes him a look, “that’s because it’s not a slash. it’s a gash. you need to get to medbay and get that stitched up.” he orders and you want to protest, but the stern look on his face advises you not to.
“yes sir.” you reply as you walk away with your head down. you aren’t upset that steve is disappointed, you’re more upset that natasha is angry at you for saving her. did she really expect you to just sit back and wait for her to die in an explosion? did she really think you weren’t going to go in there for her? your thoughts whirl around your head the entire way to medbay. you don’t mean to be so sensitive, but you can’t help but feel hurt as you realize natasha is angry with you. you don’t like it when natasha is upset with you.
“hey steve, where’s y/n?” yelena asks, sitting on the edge of the countertop as natasha rummages through the fridge for a beer. “medbay. she has a gash in her shoulder that needs stitches.” he admits and natasha knocks over the tub of juice as she practically pulls her head out of the fridge. “she got hurt?” the redhead asks demandingly, and peter shakes her head. “it’s not that bad, it’s just a cut.” he reassures the widow, and natasha slams the fridge shut.
“just a cut? a cut she didn’t even mention— oh i’m gonna kill her!” natasha hisses and the team hears her heavy footsteps as she angrily makes her way to the elevator. “natasha.” steve calls out, keeping his voice calm. she spins around, “what?!” she asks harshly, and he flashes her a look. “go easy on her. i don’t know why she went against my orders, but she sounded frantic before the mic cut off. whatever it was, i’m sure it was worth it to her.” he says, and natasha blinks a few times, the anger slowly leaving her body. you ran into that building for her. if you two would’ve left a second later, you’d both be dead.
natasha doesn’t respond; she swallows thickly, and makes her way to the elevator. the entire way to the medbay she thinks about how mean she was, after you quite literally put your life at risk for her. she also thinks about how sexy you looked while firing a gun. the beep of the elevator brings natasha out of her thoughts as she steps out, and she can already hear you and bruce going back and fourth. “come on, just tell me if it’s green.” you beg and he flashes you a stringent expression. “i’m not going to tell you if hulk’s junk is green!” he scolds, sounding extremely irritated and embarrassed while he attempts to keep still. he was nearly halfway through with your stitches, but you weren't helping by squirming every other minute.
natasha chuckles, causing you both to look over at where she was standing, leaning against the doorway. “you know, i always wondered that too.” she reveals, and bruce rolls his eyes. “oh great, now you’re both here. it’s bad enough i have to listen to this one’s way too personal questions, now i have to make sure these stitches are perfect.” bruce mutters, and natasha smirks, “better make sure you do a great job, banner. and try not to hurt her." natasha says protectively. you blush obviously, and bruce rolls his eyes as he continues.
you glance over at natasha who’s staring intently at the wound on your shoulder. “are you still pissed at me?” you ask, pulling her out of her thoughts and back to reality. she meets your gaze, and she shrugs. “only when i look at you.” she blurts out, and you frown, you shift and bruce glares at you causing you to halt your movements. “did you really come all the way here to tell me you’re still pissed?” you question, narrowing your eyes at the redhead. she crosses her arms tightly, turning her head to the side so she doesn’t have to meet your eyes.
when she doesn’t respond you scoff, turning your own head so you wouldn’t have to look at her anymore either. natasha glances at you every couple of minutes until bruce is done, but you keep your sight locked on the wall beside you. “alright, i’ll give you some antibiotic cream for it, you know the drill. come back next week so i can take the stitches out.” he explains adamantly, and you do a poor imitation of a salute. “sir yes sir.” you joke, making him shake his head, but there’s a faint smile tugging at his lips. “don’t make this a habit, y/n/n.” he adds, and natasha’s piercing eyes snap over to you both. “she won’t.” the redhead answers for you, and you flash bruce a look. “you heard her.” you state, and bruce nods as he makes his way out.
he leaves you and natasha alone, and a silence washes over you both. you gnaw on your bottom lip as you glance at her, before your eyes begin to dart around the room. your kicking your right leg back and fourth in anticipation, mentally preparing yourself to get yelled at or scolded (or both) by natasha. “what you did was seriously stupid. you do get that right? you could’ve died.” the taller woman scolds, but her tone isn’t as harsh as before. you narrow your eyes at her, “you could’ve died! if i hadn’t gone in there... you... you wouldn’t be here right now.” the haunting realization hits you as the words leave your mouth. tears brim your eyes as you clench your fists, “i don’t care if you’re angry! i’d do it again in a heartbeat!” you snap, and natasha looks taken back at the confession. as if the thought of you risking your life for her was so far fetched. as if you don’t think about her every morning and every night. as if her rare smile doesn’t make your day. as if she isn't the only consistent thought running through your chaotic mind all damn day.
“i have been nothing but an asshole to you! do you see that or are you blind?? why would you want to risk your life for someone like me?!” natasha yells back, her nostrils flaring as she crosses her arms, unknowingly flexing her bicep muscles. you have to remind yourself not to ogle her. your fingernails dig into your palms, nearly drawing blood as a few tears leave your eyes. “because you’re not just a fucking asshole, natasha! you’re a person! you’re a great person, and i don’t care how self deprecating you are, you deserve to live! and i— i wouldn’t be able to if you weren’t around... okay?” your voice breaking towards the end as tears fall out of her eyes rapidly.
natasha’s demeanor changes, as her arms fall to her sides, and her jaw unclenches. “what do you mean?” she asks, and you scoff as you turn your head to look at the wall. “please don’t pretend like you don’t know.” you whisper in a pleading tone, and natasha stares at you with those intense emerald eyes. “pretend i don’t know what, y/n?” natasha questions again, this time her tone is more demanding. you look at her, your eyes full of emotions. she’s never seen you so passionately upset, “pretend that you don’t know i’m hopelessly in love with you!” you hiss, balling your fists as you look at her while you cry.
natasha’s eyes nearly widen at the confession, and she stares at you as if she can see right through you. you sigh, shaking your head and wiping your tears away with your palms, “i know you could never love me, and maybe that’s why you don’t understand why i couldn’t just sit back today and let... let you get hurt. i had to go in there, and i would do it again. no matter the outcome.” you iterate certainly, and natasha is looking at you with an unreadable expression. “you’re wrong.” natasha mutters, and you roll your eyes. “if you’re about to gaslight me into thinking i don’t love you, you can just go, nat. i’ve had a long day.” you say in a exhausted tone.
natasha grits her teeth, “you had a long day?! i just almost watched the woman i love get blown up because of me!” natasha shouts, and her hand clamps over her mouth as soon as the words leave her mouth. your eyebrows nearly meet your hairline as soon as you hear those words. “the— the woman you love...? you love me?” you ask, your tone laced with a bit of disbelief and giddiness as your eyes flutter up to meet hers. she takes a step backwards, shaking her head, “n-no i didn’t— i didn’t say that. you misheard.” she says simply, and you grin, finally the air is light again. you giggle despite your tears, “no, i’m pretty sure i heard correctly. i’m also pretty sure there’s high tech cameras in this room, i’ll just ask FRIDAY to run the video.” you shrug and she narrows her eyes at you. “you can, but then you’ll be disappointed because i didn’t say love.” she insists, lying right through her teeth.
“it’s too late for take backs, nat.” you flash her a feline smile, and she scoffs. “there’s nothing to take back!” she defends herself adamantly, and you frown. “oh... okay.” you feign disappointment, pretending to actually feel hurt. she rolls her eyes, crossing her arms again, “god, you’re such a baby. i can’t believe i’m in love with someone who acts like a child.” she murmurs, and your eyes light up. “you’re in love with me?!” you ask, and she looks up at the ceiling. “you keep mishearing things, y/n. you sure that bomb didn't affect your ears?" she plays dumb.
you groan in mock frustration, “naaat.” you drag out her name whiningly, and she can’t help but grin. “fine. maybe i said it. once or twice.” she murmurs finally giving in, and your face breaks out into a gigantic smile. “i knew it! i knew you loved me!” you exclaim as you throw your arms around her neck and pull her in for a hug as you stay seated on the small bed. she rolls her eyes, but eventually hugs back. “can i have a kiss now?! please?” you ask hopefully, and natasha sighs, rolling her eyes as she pretends to be annoyed.
she pulls away, and before you can say anything else, she’s cupping your jaw with one of her strong hands and leaning down to kiss you. your heart is on the brinks of exploding, and you have no idea where to put your hands, but they instinctively land on her waist while you kiss back. suddenly every dismal emotion you've felt today dissipates, and all you can feel is a burst of warm joy. when she pulls away there's this soft smile on her face, and her eyes are full of love. "totally worth almost dying." you whisper, and she rolls her eyes playfully as she leans in and kisses you again.
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plaguechyld · 10 months
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Omega!Sub!Douma x Alpha!GN!Reader
Content includes: Heavy sexual topics, Omega/Alpha dynamic, Sub!Douma, Dom!Reader, Marking, Male heat cycles, Somewhat rough sex (Douma receiving), Mean!Reader, Douma has a pussy and reader has a dick.
Extra: This is set in the Omegaverse but will have absolutely no non con or dub con as many fics in this sub genre have. This is 100% consented to by both parties.
Extra Extra: I’m down HORRENDOUSLY for omega Douma.. Y’all got no idea Istg. 😭
Usually Douma is completely on top of his heat cycles, but this one had hit him suddenly and without warning. It made him cancel his evening prayer session so he could lock himself in his room and quite literally fling himself onto his king sized bed. His normally pale cheeks were flushed red as sweat rolls down his forehead and neck. He squirmed pitifully on the deep red comforter, struggling to get his clothes off. When he finally managed to get his clothes off he instantly felt slick dripping down his inner thigh.
His whimpers were muffled as he bit into the blankets, not wanting someone to hear him while another strong wave of heat rolled through his body. He shuddered pathetically, not able to keep his pheromones in check like he normally could.
“W-what’s wrong with me.. Why is this so sudden..” He thought to himself while weakly grabbing onto the blankets. He reached his fingers down to his already sopping pussy and began to quickly finger himself, trying to get some relief. His legs shake badly while he shudders involuntarily. His fingers curled inside of himself as he thrusted them directly into his g-spot. He bit back moan after moan as he felt himself growing closer to his climax. Slick gushed out as he picked up his pace even more. At this point his blonde hair was sticking to his forehead and his face was flushed red.
After what felt like forever he finally climaxed, releasing all over his fingers. He expected that it should quell his heat for at least a little bit, but he was surprised when the feelings didn’t die down at all. He shuddered after feeling another wave of heat roll over his body. Tears pricked at his kaleidoscope colored eyes as he closed them tightly.
Suddenly, he could feel a presence somewhere in his temple. Whoever it was, they were getting closer and closer to his room. Douma sucked in a shaky breath, whoever this was was clearly a Demon Slayer. This was exactly what he didn’t need, and he wasn’t sure if he could kill the slayer because of the state he was in. He shook slightly, not out of fear but out of… excitement? The slayer they were an alpha. His heightened senses could feel it, it was making him release even more pheromones to try and draw them in, which was not going to help.
Suddenly, the door was flung open, revealing the slayer. You had beautiful h/c hair and sharp e/c eyes. You stopped momentarily and inhaled sharply at the sweet scent quite literally seeping from Douma. He blinked his rainbow eyes pitifully at you, a pout forming on his lips.
“Please… Can you help m-me..” Douma slurred out, already shifting to try to get closer to you. You were currently fighting back against your instincts that were telling you to tend to the omega. You blinked when you felt yourself being pulled closer to the bed by icy vines however your instincts were keeping you from trying to fight back and leave. When you were close enough to the bed the vines vanished and you were met by Douma desperately clinging to your waist, rubbing his cheek against you. You let out a shaky sigh but despite yourself, rubbed his head. Douma let out a loud whine at the friction, despite how small it was.
“Mm.. th-that feels good..” Douma murmurs softly, pulling you closer to him. He eventually gets you to sit on his bed while he hugs you tightly.
“I remember you.. You were the o-one who..” He swallows thickly before continuing. “Walked me home.. and gave me a.. a bracelet.” This was in fact true, the two of you had crossed pathed only two days ago. You had been sent to the area because of disappearances that were rumored to be caused by a demon. You were unable to sense the fact that he was a demon at that time and had offered to escort him home after talking with him for some time. You had given him a simple bracelet made out of silver braided thread and a metal feather charm before bidding him farewell. However, right before you disappeared into the night, you had given him a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
Despite Douma being known for being emotionless, he had gotten a strange tingle in his chest before his face heated up. He couldn’t keep you off his mind after that.
“Pl-please.. I know you’re a slayer, Y/n-san.. But please..” Douma begged you quietly, desperately needing your attention. You were fighting with yourself on whether or not to kill him and be done with it or actually listen to his pleas. A soft pout was seen on his face as his bottom lip trembled, tears pooling in his rainbow eyes. He was just too pretty to resist…
“My my, Douma..” You say in a low tone as you move your hands to hold onto his shoulders. The mere contact makes him whimper loudly. You lay him down on his back before positioning yourself above him. He shivered, looking up at you with hopeful eyes while spreading his legs to get you enticed. You let your hand drift to cup his cheek and weren’t surprised when the demon instantly leaned into the touch. He let out a pitiful sound, trying desperately to get you to fuck him senseless.
“Y/n-san you’re so pretty!.. Please please fill me up, I need you, Y/n-san..” Douma begs again, not caring that he was acting absolutely desperately because quite frankly, he was desperate for the attention of this alpha, you. You move your hands to start rubbing the sides of his torso carefully, enjoying how he jumped at every little touch. He was already extremely sensitive just with a couple touches.
“Very well.. Try anything and I’ll leave, or better yet, kill you. Got it, demon?” You ask in a soft tone that made chills go down Douma’s spine. He nodded furiously, and shakily lifted his hands to hold your face, wanting to kiss you. You let him do as he pleased for now. The kiss was sloppy but deep and passionate, Douma’s slightly cold tongue twirled with yours and licked all around your mouth as he gripped your face with his shaky hands. You kissed him back, your hands gripping his cheeks tightly. Eventually he pulled back and coughed from lack of air, he turned his head to the side and left his neck exposed.
He squeaked in surprise when he felt you kissing his neck and let out a sharp gasp as you bit down on the sensitive skin. You bit his neck hard but not hard enough to draw blood as you didn’t want to accidentally turn yourself into a demon. Douma squirmed and tried pushing you slightly. You however had none of this and promptly pinned his wrists above his head with a fluid motion. He let out a whine at the action.
“I’m sorry! ‘M sorry! Pl-please let me hold you! Please, please Y/n-san! I-I can’t..” Douma sobs out, tears spilling out of his rainbow eyes, making his flushed cheeks wet. You blinked in surprise and raised an eyebrow.
“Please don’t be mean, I can’t take it! I can’t take it if you’re mean..” He whines while his bottom lip trembles. You let his wrists go and watch with a chuckle and a smirk as he immediately clings to you. He shifts his hips up and wraps his legs around your waist, rubbing up against your still clothed cock. You can feel how absolutely wet he is, slick still dribbling out. You let these sensations go straight to your dick and you feel yourself growing hard.
With a grumble you push Douma back down on the bed and shift down so your head is in between his legs. He lets out a loud whine when he feels you rip his underwear off, leaving him completely naked now. You lean in and kiss all around his dripping cunt, making him whimper slightly.
“Pl-please…” He mumbles out in a lustful tone. He shifts his hips up, trying to get you to do something but much to his annoyance you move your face away. Just as he’s about to say something else you promptly give him a smack right on his slit. This makes him let out a quiet scream, legs shaking badly.
“Y-Y/n-san!” He cries out, trying to close his legs. You don’t let him however and give his slit another smack. He moans and throws his head back.
“Aw does that hurt? For an upper ranking demon you’re surprisingly weak.” You say in a low tone. Douma whimpers at your words and lets out a sob. He was acting as if he was under an aphrodisiac with how sensitive he is. His bottom lip trembles and he lets out another pathetic but breathy moan.
“Please..” He murmurs, his rainbow eyes are unfocused and cloudy with tears. He shakes his head, trying to clear the heat induced mist from his brain while reaching up for you.
“Kiss..?” He says in a soft way. If you knew better you would almost think he was embarrassed to ask for such a thing. However nonetheless you leaned down and captured his lips in a heated kiss. Douma moans in delight and wraps his legs around your waist for the second time that night. You pull back and watch in amusement as he lets out several loud pants, cheeks flushed even more.
You shift back down so your face is between his legs yet again, making Douma’s breath hitch in excitement. With a quick movement you dive into his dripping cunt with your tongue. He chokes out several loud moans as you eat him out in a savage way, lapping at all the slick he produces. The omega is whining loudly, gripping the sheets as hard as he can which causes them to rip.
"Y-Y/n-san!" He cries out while his thighs squeeze your face. You could feel him clenching around your tongue, signifying he was close. You made no move to stop him, after all he was in heat and while you were a sadist you weren’t that cruel. His back arches prettily off of the blankets as he orgasms, painting your face with his release. Douma pants loudly and lets out quiet whimpers. You merely chuckle and lick his juices from your face, looking him in the eyes all the while. You can see his blush deepen at the action before he tries to hide his face in the pillows.
******************************************************************** Douma lets out heavy and shallow pants, his body shivering and twitching from ever touch you lay across his skin. How many orgasms have you wrung out of him? He lost count after the fourth one. He reaches his shaky hands up, trying to hold your face and invite you in for a kiss, but his arms are too weak, he’s got very minimal energy left in him. However this gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by you and you lean down and press your soft lips against his own.
“Y-Y/n-San… please I can’t.. I can’t take it..” Douma whines to you as you thrust hard and deep into his puffy and abused pussy. His back is in an ever arched position as you continue to rail him into the mattress. The blankets are a mess of his release and slick, though neither of you take any notice of it. You make a tutting sound and continue on.
“Come on.. you wanted me, you wanted me to fuck that sweet pussy of yours and claim it as my own, didn’t you, omega.” You say in a condescending manner. Douma let out another wordless whine, a silent plea if you will.
“No. We aren’t stopping until I’m satisfied.” You tell him as your face turns stern. Your expression made his stomach do flips and he subconsciously spread his legs open just a little more.
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writingforrhys · 11 months
Text
as you were
cassian x reader warnings: none! just some arguing and very sassy bat boys LOL. and some nesta and elain slander oh and quite a bit of swearing contents: welcome to a long awaited part 2 of smaller than this! i finally wrote the comfort to the hurt. please enjoy!
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Cassian couldn't find you anywhere.
He was sweaty, and disgusting, and disheveled after a long morning of training with his brothers. Azriel had been on point this particular session, seemingly being able to read Cassian's mind and know his every next move. He'd been put to the floor more times than he could count and all he wanted was to find you, bathe, and throw himself under the covers for some comfort and some really good sex.
The Illyrian had flown down to the Rainbow in search of your favourite bakery for some custard treat that he knew you couldn't get enough of and a bunch of your favourite flowers. And now, he couldn't fucking find you.
There was nothing better to Cassian than that shy look you'd get on your face when he'd turn up with gifts in hand, like you couldn't believe you were the one he was giving them to. The way you'd wring your hands together and rock on your feet, reaching towards him with that big, bright smile and a welcome home kiss, just to rush off to put your flowers in some water or show Rhys exactly what he'd bought you.
Gods, he needed to find you.
He felt like he'd searched the house 3 times over. He'd gone to the library, the kitchens, even Rhys's study and still no sight of you. It had barely hit noon and he knew your routine ridiculously well. You should've been pottering somewhere.
He found himself standing outside of your shared bedroom, concerned that perhaps you'd fallen ill, or caught on to one of Az's headaches, and had retired to your bed for the day. He craned his ears to search for any signs of life from the room; put off by the lack of light funnelling through the gaps of the door.
Cassian was just about ready to haul ass and search for you again elsewhere, when he heard it. It... you... a sniffle?
The door slowly creaked open, warm light from the hall washing over the unmoving mass under the sheets. Cassian moved as gently as he could, (albeit he was not very gentle at all), and found only the top of your head peeking through.
"Are you okay, honey? Not feeling well?"
His kind words and tender tone made you want to cry even more and you had to resist the urge to not look over the sheets and take a look at his beautiful face.
"I'm fine, Cass." And there it was. Mistake, mistake, mistake.
Any other person would've walked away. Any other person would have wished you farewell and hoped you got better. Any other person wouldn't concern themselves over the inflection of your voice. But not Cassian.
No, Cassian heard it all. Saw it all. He heard the shaking of your speech, the uncertainty. Could hear the wetness. And, he could bet that if he pulled back the bed covers, he'd find you tear-stained and choked up and utterly humiliated. And he was always right when it came to you.
And now, as panic blossomed in his chest, he took a seat next to your unmoving form and placed a hand just atop your body. He was careful not to remove the covers; he didn't need you closing off even more.
"You wanna tell me what happened, my love?"
A head shake.
"Did someone do this to you? Has someone made you upset?"
Silence.
"Who."
You removed the covers now, no further down than the top of your chest he noticed, and the sight of you broke his heart. You were all sniffles and puffy faced and hair so unkempt it could make a Naga run back to the woods. You'd obviously been here a while - alone and vulnerable. His heart broke again.
"It's okay, Cassie, really. They didn't mean any harm. I wasn't even supposed to hear it."
"They?" He was furious. Utterly and blindingly furious. Whoever had made you cry was very soon certain to wish they were never born.
Your eyes fluttered closed as you sighed, realising this was a battle not easily won. Cassian was not the type to let things go easily, especially when it came to you, and you weren't foolish enough to hope that he would just leave it alone.
"Nesta and Elain," Your voice was just a whisper, eyes still closed, "They... they were talking about me. Didn't have many nice points."
The Illyrian was the picture of silent rage. His heart a furnace; one doing a terrific job at boiling the blood under his skin.
"What did they say?"
You were hesitant now, as if speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more true. Your eyes peeked open, looking everywhere but Cass, until a large hand took purchase upon your cheek, tilting your face to meet his encouraging stare.
Your voice wobbled as you told him what they'd said - the descriptions that had hurt you the most. More tears streamed down your face at this and a calloused thumb reached to wipe every one away.
Once you had finished, Cassian stood silently, leaning down to plant a kiss to your hairline, and made a beeline for the door.
"Where are you going?" You wiped at your tired eyes.
"I'm off to kill some sisters."
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The door to the living room had slammed open so fast that the walls of the house had shaken. Every head in the room had whipped to a seething Cassian in the doorway.
Rhysand was the first to stand and reach out his hand tentatively, as if taming a beast, "What's wrong, brother?"
Cassian's gaze didn't even land upon the High Lord. His line of sight shot right to the sofa behind him, carrying Feyre and Lady Death herself.
"You."
Nesta wasn't someone who showed much emotion in her face. Her range of expressions only varied between extremely discontent and mildly satisfied. But now, with the General standing in the doorway and a thunderous stare thrust upon her, she didn't know how to hide the amount of emotion bubbling up to her face.
Seeing her sister's agitation, the High Lady also rose to her feet and stepped forward. One of her hands rested upon Cassian's arm, gently rubbing as she lead him into the room.
"You need to tell us what the problem is, or we can't fix it."
"What's the problem, Feyre?" He scoffed, "She's my fucking problem."
The Illyrian's voice was raising with every word he spat. His voice had reached the adjourned kitchens, where Azriel and Elain now tentatively filtered out. Elain monitored the situation carefully, and quickly took a seat next to Nesta, grasping one of her hands in her own.
"Cassian, perhaps you need to calm down. I'm sure Nesta will be more comfortable to talk to you then." Elain's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Oh, go bake some fucking bread, Elain!"
"Cassian," Azriel spoke, "You need to choose your next words carefully."
"Really, brother? I don't think I do," He turned to Azriel, "Would you like to know what your little girlfriend has been saying about Y/N?"
The room was silent. Elain was red.
A beat passed as Azriel and Rhysand made eye contact. Azriel's shoulder's squared and his jaw ticked. Rhys laid a hand on Feyre's elbow, who was quick to leave the room with a soft mutter of I'm going to check on Y/N. The three Illyrian's were now facing the sisters on the couch, a storm brewing in the room.
"What did you say?" The shadowsinger's voice was uncomfortably steady.
"We didn't say anything. Get your guard dogs away from us." Nesta seethed at Cassian.
"You didn't... say anything?" Rhysand spoke slowly - accusatory.
Elain was nothing like her sister. Nesta could lie for days on end and not break a sweat. Often, when they were young, Nesta would spin tales about the other children in the village and see which rumour she could make spread faster. When she was confronted, Nesta had no problem lying to their faces again, or telling them exactly what she thought of them to their face. Whatever she preferred in the moment.
Elain was not like Nesta. Elain would return from school or the market, sit by the hearth on the floor, and spin her tales there. The words she spoke never left their house, not by her own voice anyway. She knew from Nesta's approving hums and nods that the next day, whatever Elain had spun would miraculously make it across the town. And she loved it.
Elain did not like consequences, and she did not like confrontation.
"We didn't say anything." She whispered. She dared not look up.
"That's funny, really," Cassian spoke to his brothers, "Nesta and Elain have decided that Y/N isn't good enough for us. For me."
"Oh, I wasn't aware that was up for them to decide, Cass."
"Neither did I, Rhys."
Azriel's face was still stony, "Would you like to tell the truth now?"
"Oh please, what we said wasn't that bad. The drama in your court is abysmal, Rhysand." The eldest Archeron bristled, "You'd think the royalty of the Night Court would have better things to do than gossip."
"Let me make one thing very clear. If I ever hear you speak ill of another member of my court again, it will be the last thing you ever do in this court." Rhys was not speaking as himself now. This was the High Lord. This was your High Lord. Undoubtedly and unapologetically loyal to you.
"Y/N is the best of us," Azriel spoke lowly, "I wouldn't expect you to understand, but you have misspoken and you've made a grave mistake. You will apologise profusely, and from this point on you will do everything you can to make this right."
Azriel left then, his long legs climbing the stairs and his footsteps following the familiar path straight to your room. Elain's face had fallen completely now, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks.
"We have known Y/N for the best part of 500 years. We have known the both of you for all of 5 minutes," Rhys' eyes bore into the sisters, "She has loved us and we have loved her for longer than you've been alive. You should be surprised that I haven't already dropped you at the border."
Rhys turned then to the door, his back facing the room.
"Do not let me hear of this again."
And with that, he followed Azriel up the stairs.
The Seer glanced between her sister and the General and took her opportunity to breathe a weak apology and immediately flee the room.
Typical, Nesta thought.
"Well, whatever you have to say, I suggest you get it out."
She was right. Cassian had been far too quiet. If he left his emotions unchecked any longer, he could very well do something he would regret. Well, he wouldn't regret it that much. But he'd like to avoid the grovelling he'd have to do to Feyre.
"My life is none of your concern," He began, "Who I take to bed is none of your concern and who I spend my time with is none of your concern."
Nesta rolled her eyes.
"What?" Cassian spat, "Would you rather I profess my undying love for you instead of her? You, who has shown me nothing but hatred and contempt since the moment we met. And Y/N who has spent 5 centuries giving me kindness and a home."
She wasn't looking at him anymore, completely silent as the Illyrian grew quiet again himself.
"She means everything to me. I have never and will never tolerate anyone who attempts to jeopardise what we have. Especially not you."
"What do you even see in her?" Cassian couldn't tell whether it was a jab or a genuine question. He didn't like either.
"All I see is her," A small smile, "All I think about is her. When I leave in the morning, I think about what she might choose to wear that day. And on the way home, I think about where I'll find her. Whether she'll be reading in the library, or teaching Az how to knit for the 50th time, or baking or bathing or singing."
He didn't pause to see Nesta's face shifting to shock.
"And when I do get back, the first face I want to see is Y/N's. To see her smile or hear her laugh. Most of the time I can't believe that I'm the bastard she chose to love. That I'm the one who gets to hold her every night."
Cassian made his move to leave, but just before he reached the doorway, he turned back to look Nesta in the eye.
"Y/N is the most beautiful, loving person I've ever met. I wonder sometimes how flowers don't grow on the grass she treads. You're lucky I haven't left you dead on the floor for the way you've spoken about her."
And as you listened on the stairs, your cheeks red and smile bright, you knew.
You knew that you didn't have to travel the universe to find someone who loves you. You didn't need to have a different body or a different mind to find someone who sees you.
Because Cassian was here, in this house, loving you and seeing you. For everything you are.
He loved you just as you were.
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another-lost-mc · 8 months
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Hi! I’ve never requested before but I’ve just been thinking about mammon x reader x levi (not mammon and levi with each other obviously) nsfw like what if they’re playing video games together and start to get jealous over mc getting cuddly with the other brother and then smut ensues💕💕. Ignore this if you don’t want to do it/aren’t comfortable with it!!
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A/N: I have no problem writing the demons sharing MC as part of a poly!ship. Tag-teaming is kind of hot, right? And let's be real, most of the stuff I write with the twins ends up twisting that way by the end. I've written Mammon x Reader x Levi before (no demoncest obv) so let's pretend this is a little snapshot from the same AU. Their dynamic together is so much fun.
MAMMON x gn!Reader x LEVIATHAN, 1.2k words, NSFW / MDNI
Content/warnings: a little Levi-centric. Contains oral sex, teensy bit of tail-fucking, fingering.
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It was supposed to be a relaxing evening together. Mammon is pressed against your back, his chin hooked over your shoulder so he can watch you and Levi play video games. Levi rests comfortably on the floor at your feet, rocking lightly with excitement as he wins the third race in a row. You were so focused on not driving off the rainbow track that you barely noticed the ticklish sensation of smooth scales sliding up your leg and inching up your thigh.
Tonight is Mammon's turn to take you to bed, and he's been fidgeting with the waistband of your pants for the past hour. He was probably hoping your gaming session with Levi would end and his brother could leave. Maybe he wanted to entice you to play a different type of game—one that involved a lot less clothing and watching you bounce on his cock—but he spots Levi's tail gliding across your legs and the fighting begins. You try to break it up as gently as you can—it's not that big of a deal, is it? Levi shakes his head no while Mammon yells of course it is, it's not his turn!
You spent last night in Levi's room. Sometimes he sleeps in your bed instead, but last night he had a raid event and you wanted to be close by to keep him company even if you fell asleep. He felt bad waking you up at some ungodly hour, but he was so thrilled about killing a new raid boss that he just had to tell you. You might not like all the same games as him, but that doesn't stop you from being his number one fan.
He leaned over the edge of his tub and giggled bashfully when you cupped his cheeks and peppered his face with little celebratory kisses. Quick pecks against his lips turned into a heated, desperate kiss when he moaned and licked into your mouth. You tugged his shirt collar and urged him to climb into the tub with you, and he pulled down your sleep pants enough so he could snake his hand and his tail between your legs. It didn't take long for him to coax the first orgasm from you when the tip of his tail teased your hole with the promise of more. He was still licking your cum off his fingers when you pulled down his sweatpants and sucked his cock into your mouth, teasing your gag reflex and choking yourself on his length. He tried to keep his hips from thrusting too deep into the soft, wet heat of your mouth, and when he warned you that he was close, you took him as deep so he came down your throat.
You spent the next hour groping each other and and making out while trying to take off the remaining clothes that kept getting in the way. His cock was hard and throbbing with the overwhelming desire to be inside you, and he finally tore off your underwear and flipped you onto your knees to fuck you from behind. You rolled your hips and met each of his rough, erratic thrusts, the hard smack of his thighs against your ass adding to the lewd sounds of your body squelching obscenely around his cock. He emptied himself inside you and watched his cum leak down your thighs before you both collapsed in a sweaty, sticky pile on top of his blankets. You drifted off to sleep with his quiet snores in your ear and his tail wrapped possessively around your thigh.
Their little spat over Levi's adventurous tail threatens to derail an otherwise perfect day. Sometimes Levi's tail instinctively curls around you if you're close enough. You don't mind at all, but apparently Mammon does. Mammon and Levi start bickering about getting worked up over something so stupid and you had your chance last night, so fuck off. You love them both dearly, but sometimes they can be viciously stubborn, and greedy, and jealous. But that's part of why you love them so much, isn't it?
You sigh loudly and dramatically to get their attention. They both shut up instantly and look a little confused, especially when you turn your head suddenly and kiss Mammon over your shoulder. He grunts when your lips press against his, but he opens his mouth with a groan as he returns your kiss with ravenous hunger. Levi shuffles awkwardly at your feet, but you catch the tip of his tail resting on your knee and slide it back into the warm gap between your thighs. He seems to get the hint and you smile against Mammon's mouth when Levi's tail tickles your inner thighs and presses against the warm space between your legs. He rubs you through your sleep pants and it's embarrassing how wet you are already; there's soft little squelching sounds as your clothes grow damp from your arousal. You rock your hips to increase the friction of his tail against your skin, but the feeling is muted, dulled by too many layers of clothing.
"Greedy little thing, aren't ya, Treasure?" Mammon murmurs against your mouth when he breaks the kiss. He huffs in amusement when you try to chase his lips, but his gaze rakes over your heaving chest and down the bed where you're rutting against the hard, unyielding curve of Levi's tail. Levi is on his knees in front of you, smoothing his palms up and down your calves while he sucks little marks into the delicate skin of your thighs. He glances at you and Mammon from beneath his lashes, and his orange eyes glow slightly as they brighten with excitement and lust.
Mammon grips the hem of your t-shirt and tugs it over your head. Levi licks his lips and drinks in the delectable sight of your bare chest and soft tummy. His tail flicks one last time against the damp spot forming between your legs before it curls just over the top of your knee instead. You whine at the sudden loss of heat and friction, but Mammon's hot breath ghosts across your ear and he tugs your ear lobe between his teeth. His hand slips under the waistband of your pants and he strokes you instead, gathering the slick arousal pooling at your slit and spreading it with his fingers. You reach back and reach into his soft, snowy white hair and tug roughly as you buck your hips against his hand and whine his name. His finger circles lazily around your entrance and you arch your back against him while your insides clench pitifully around nothing.
Mammon smirks at Levi over your shoulder and a flicker of silent understanding passes between them. No matter how much they argue, they usually don't get too carried away. They would never want their little squabbles to get in the way of pleasing you. "I'm feeling a little generous after all, babe," he murmurs against your neck before he licks a stripe up the delicate column of your throat. "He can stay and watch, and if he can keep his tail to himself, he can have you next."
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metalhoops · 1 year
Text
The place was Chicago. The year was 1990. 
It was early enough into the year that the term ‘1990′ still sounded space aged. It’d been the 80s for as long as Eddie cared to remember. It was late enough in the year that everyone kept telling him winter was over. Nevertheless, he wore the leather jacket he’d ‘borrowed’ from his ex-boyfriend. Spring in Chicago was worse than a million L.A. winters. 
Eddie hated California on principle, but his record label was in Burbank. Despite the band being one of the biggest rising stars in the metal scene, he didn’t have room to get cocky. He’d spent the break between tours last year with his aforementioned ex-boyfriend in his New York apartment. 
The place had been small enough that smoking with the windows open felt like a hotbox session. There was one window in the apartment. It was in the bathroom and only opened an inch if you could get it to open at all. It wasn’t the rockstar life he’d fantasised about back in high school, but he was getting by. 
So how the hell did he end up in Chicago? He was getting there. 
As the filmmaker he’d slept with in Toronto had told him, opening in media res was the best way to hold an audience's attention. Was that what Eddie was doing? Trying to retell the shitshow of his life back to himself? Trying to make sense of it all, make it climax to something meaningful? Maybe. 
Eddie had gotten into the habit of keeping a journal, mostly for lyrics. The band was meant to be recording their third full-length studio album in a matter of months and Eddie only had three songs that were worth anything. To make matters worse, the other two had been concept albums. 
Corroded Coffin’s first and sophomore albums had been different enough that the band hadn’t been boxed into anything. Yes, they were a metal band, but they got their fair share of punks, goths and even a handful of yuppies that’d shown up to their gigs in the past. Hell, their opening act had been a grunge band. It sounded pretentious as fuck, but Eddie wasn’t afraid to transcend genres. The metal scene was changing. They had to learn to change with it.
The nail in his goddamn Corroded Coffin was that the band were known for their concept albums. Their first album Knightmare was a D&D-inspired thrash, metal album. Think Ritchie Blackmore's Rainbow, with a few more homoerotic undertones. Their next album, Dream Dimension was more sci-fi leaning. It told the story of an unnamed group of kids who’d stumbled into another dimension. It was a little more glam metal. Some of the B-sides like ‘My Year’ and ‘Lakeside Interlude’ had been downright shoegaze. One magazine had likened the story to Dream Warriors, which Eddie thought was fitting. 
It wasn’t like Eddie didn’t have ideas for the next album. That was the problem. Eddie did have an idea. He just couldn’t write the damn thing. It was meant to be his magnum opus, the third album that’d stand on its own but also interconnect with the other two. 
He’d call it Daydream. It followed the story of a white-collar guy living the perfect nuclear family life, complete with a white picket fence and a Malibu Barbie, dream house. The thing was, the dude was miserable. He’d spend all his free time daydreaming about adventure and forgotten realms. 
The kicker was halfway through the album the listener would realise the guy was the titular knight from Knightmare. His perfect suburban life was turned upside down when his kid disappeared à la portal to another dimension. It’d be perfect. All Eddie had to do is write it, and that was the damn thing. He couldn’t.  
All his albums were about something. There was always a meaning beneath the meaning. Knightmare? Easy, that was about escapism. Dream Dimension? It was about growing up too fast. Daydream? That was more complicated. 
Daydream was why Eddie needed to write in his journal. It was why he needed to remember that the year was 1990 and that he was in Chicago. 
The thing was, Eddie didn’t remember writing Dream Dimension. There was a 1988 sized hole in his memory between their first and second US tours. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what caused it. In their early days, they were practically paid in 8 Balls and party favours. Eddie always had an addictive personality and getting into anything stronger than weed had been a bad idea.
It wasn’t until his bandmates had an intervention that he’d been able to see the forest through the trees. Realising there was a whole chunk of his life he’d missed out on was petrifying. So, Eddie kept a journal. 
He’d been sober for almost a year. He was practically fucking straight-edge without all the pretentiousness that came with it, but he knew one slip-up was enough to send him spiralling. That was how he ended up in Chicago.
It was the last show of their Dream Dimension tour, and they were in Chicago. Eddie was always lively on stage. Gareth had abandoned one of his drumsticks during a solo only for Eddie to run across the stage, slip and bite the dust with his ankle going one way and the rest of him going another. 
He’d woken up in a hospital with a lump on his ankle the size of a baseball and the uncomfortably familiar feeling of being high off his face on painkillers. 
To answer the question, Daydream was about getting older. It was about being okay with getting older. It was about doing it your own way. Back in the thick of it all, it’d looked like Eddie wasn’t going to make it to thirty. He was trying to be okay with the idea that he might. 
Last year, Jeff got married to a nice girl who’d been their costume designer for their first music video. It’d shaken him in a way he didn’t know how to explain. He was in his mid-twenties, yet suddenly he felt old. Wayne had retired and with Eddie’s help brought a Winnebago. He was probably fishing in Nebraska right now. 
See, the thing about the titular character in Daydream, was that he’d conformed to what life was supposed to be. By the end of the album, he’d have left that life behind for another, one of action and adventure, because Eddie could never understand why Dorothy wanted to leave Oz for fucking Kansas. Fuck Kansas, on principal.
Something about the album wasn’t clicking. Knightmare was leaving his boring life but ultimately, he was alone. Was that what getting older was all about? Being okay with being alone? When you were gay in 1990, it might be. 
After the tour ended he hadn’t wanted to go back to his apartment in Burbank. He hated it there. He’d entertained the idea of heading back to New York but it was depressing. It reminded him of Jack, and how so many of their friends weren’t around anymore. 
When all was said and done, he and Gareth decided to stay in Chicago. He never said it out loud, but Eddie was sure his friend had stuck around to keep an eye on him. 
Sometimes, Eddie just wanted someone to come home to. Maybe that was why he’d had a string of shit boyfriends. If you weren’t picky, people would walk all over you. 
Jack had been the one that’d made Eddie swear off dating. It wasn’t worth the trouble. He’d rather die alone. His name wasn’t even Jack, it was Corey, but everyone called him Jack. Short for Jacket. Eddie wished he was joking. That should’ve been the first red flag. 
The thing about Corey was he always wore the same goddamn custom-made, leather jacket, all year round. He’d liked having sex in front of his full-length mirror with Eddie always on his knees, which should’ve been at least a yellow flag. He never liked anything gentle. Corey liked the idea of having a rockstar boyfriend more than he actually liked Eddie or monogamy. That was why when Eddie left, he took his jacket. 
He didn’t know why he was still wearing it, but he was. He pulled it on as he hobbled in his moon boot across the street from his and Gareth’s rented apartment to the record store. He hadn’t gone outside in a week, and he was about to start climbing up the goddamn walls. He just needed to go somewhere, and Eddie loved record stores, especially little indie ones. 
Once inside, Eddie noticed the place was practically empty save for the guy behind the counter. They had an eclectic mix of records and zines lining the shelves. Eddie was glad the place was quiet. He didn’t have to worry about being spotted. It wasn’t like they were The Beatles. They could go places but in a big enough crowd, he was sure to turn a few heads. Some days, Eddie just wanted to disappear. 
They had Corroded Coffin records on the display shelf and a couple of magazines with his band's name on the cover, which made pride swell in Eddie’s chest, but he wasn’t here for stroking his ego. He wanted to know what other people were doing and get back in touch with the scene. 
He was busy sifting through the bargain bin when he felt someone slide in beside him. He cringed, almost expecting it to be some over-enthused metal head with a pen and a Corroded Coffin tee shirt, but it was just the dude behind the counter.  
“Sorry, can I squeeze past?” the guy mumbled, a crate of records awkwardly tucked beneath his shoulder.
Eddie did his best to make himself small, his dumbass ankle making a simple task seem like an effort. He didn’t miss the way the man’s free hand brushed over his side as he passed, as though trying to assure Eddie stayed stable. 
“Place sure is quiet,” Eddie observed glancing over at the man.
His jeans were fitted, tight in all the right places. He’d rolled up the cuffs of his shirt to reveal more of his bicep than Eddie deemed necessary and god his hair. There was something about his hair. Something about him seemed familiar. Eddie really hoped they hadn’t hooked up once. That’d be awkward as hell. 
“Yeah, we usually close around five,” The man replied putting an album on the shelf. 
It was almost six. Shit. 
Eddie hated when people did that. They treated him differently because his name was in the papers. Everyone wanted something from him, and they thought doing favours was a good way to win him over. It wasn’t. The guy could clearly see something shift in Eddie. 
“It’s no big deal. I have to stay an hour late to replace the stock, plus my roommate has a girl over, so I’d rather be here,” The boy laughed, shooting a look at Eddie over his shoulder, a stray strand of his perfect goddamn hair falling in his face. 
The boy paused, teeth worrying away at his lower lip, his hand falling to his hip as his eyes searched Eddie's face. 
“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asked. 
And there it was. Sometimes people did that. They played dumb about who he was before making a big goddamn deal out of it. Eddie suddenly wanted to crawl back to his apartment and spend another month in isolation. 
The boy snapped his fingers in triumph.
“Munson,” He practically shouted and holy fucking shit, that wasn’t what Eddie expected. 
No one knew his last name, not his real one. Everyone changed their names when they got famous. He’d gone for something simple, Eddie Emerson, it had some alliteration, just like Corroded Coffin. It wasn’t too far from his real name but not even the die-hards knew him as Munson. 
Then Eddie remembered. 
This guy was Steve goddamn Harrington. He didn’t remember many people from high school, but he remembered Steve. 
“Harrington,” Eddie breathed in disbelief. To his surprise, Steve screwed up his nose. 
“Unfortunately,” He admitted and stuck out a hand expectantly. Eddie leaned down and clasped Steve’s hand. From what he remembered of Steve, the guy had never been this friendly. 
“Nice to re-meet you I guess. I’d like to think I’ve changed a little in over five years.” He had, Eddie didn’t know how to explain how he knew, he just did. It was something about the way the boy held himself. 
“What brings you to Chicago?” He asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that one of Eddie’s records was sitting on the shelf beside him. Honestly, it was a breath of fresh air to find someone who didn’t know who he was. He could keep the charade up a little bit longer. 
“Oh you know, work stuff,” Eddie answered vaguely, toying with his hair. 
That was something he did when he was flirting and holy shit, he needed to squash that right goddamn now. He wasn’t looking to date anybody, and he remembered Steve being very straight in high school. He needed to save himself from another heartbreak. 
“You live in Chicago now?” Eddie asked. The‘ because you didn’t seem like the type to ever leave’ was implied. 
“Yeah. Rob, my roommate, she practically dragged me here. We’ve been attached at the hip since I graduated. It wasn’t like there was anywhere else I wanted to be,” Steve answered. 
A little detail about the statement screamed for Eddie’s attention. 
“The same roommate that has a girl over?” He pressed and watch Steve fold his arms over his chest, all huffy indignation locked and loaded, begging for Eddie to choose his next words wisely. 
“The same,” he confirmed. Now that Eddie knew, he noticed they were selling a couple of queer zines. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. Steve might just be progressive. 
“I thought you were meant to be the lady's man, Steve,” Eddie tried hoping that was enough to make Steve’s defences fall. To his surprise, Steve snorted and shook his head. 
“Like I said, lots changed since high school. My luck in the dating department couldn’t be worse,” he admitted as he returned to stacking the shelves. 
Eddie watched the planes of his back move beneath his shirt, wanting to push himself against him, to feel what it was like for Steve to move beneath him.
He really needed to get a hold of himself. 
“Couldn’t be worse than my luck,” Eddie rebutted offhandedly. 
Steve shook his head and shot Eddie another glance over his shoulder. He inhaled deeply as though preparing to tell a long story. Eddie leaned against the shelf to show Steve he was all ears. 
“Last month, I went on a date with a girl and she asked me if she could call me by her ex-boyfriend’s name,” Steve began. 
Eddie screwed up his nose in response. 
“Worse still, I was so shocked she’d asked, I just agreed to it.” It was Eddie’s turn to snort. 
“Stevie, you didn’t.” 
Stevie. Goddamn Stevie. Don’t do this to yourself, Munson. Pet names are one step away from a full-blown crush. 
“I did. Do I look like a ‘Juan’ to you?” Steve asked honestly. The question had Eddie doubled over in stitches. 
“Alright, alright. That’s pretty bad, but that’s one bad date,” Eddie reasoned. 
“Dude, I wasn’t finished. The girl before that realised she was a lesbian, while on a date with me. Which is like... the third time that’s happened,” Steve admitted.
Eddie’s hand had betrayed him and returned to toy with a strand of his hair. He hid behind it as he tried to mask a laugh. This guy did have shit luck. 
“You’re a lesbian magnet,” Eddie reasoned watching as Steve hid behind his hands. 
“And the time before that, I thought I was getting somewhere with a guy. We’d been on three dates before he told me he had a wife.” 
Steve made the next confession a little quieter than the others, a little more reserved. Eddie felt the hairs on his arm stand on end. Steve had changed since high school.
“Once I hooked up with a guy who’d only give me head if I sang to him while he did it,” Eddie admitted, feeling the need to get Steve off the defensive and add to the pity party. He watched the boy’s features shift.
“Oh wow, that’s bad. You should’ve pretended to be tone-deaf,” Steve reasoned, once more proving he had no idea what Eddie did for a living. 
“See I was torn between that and singing La Cucaracha at the top of my lungs.” Steve snorted, honest to god snorted.  
The two lapsed into silence but it was a comfortable one. Steve smoothed down his hair five times within the space of a minute before taking a deep breath. 
Eddie knew what was coming. He wasn’t dumb, but a part of him would always be trapped back in high school. It kept screaming there was no way a popular kid like Steve would talk to a loser like him. He thought he’d buried that part of himself, yet here it was, rising from the dead. 
“Do you want to get a drink?” 
And there it was. Eddie didn’t mean to cringe, but Steve caught it, his hands stuffed themselves into the too-tight back pockets of his jeans. 
“Or not,” He muttered averting his gaze. 
“No. It’s not that. I... I don’t drink.” 
There you go Gareth. He was responsible enough to look after himself. 
“I could do dinner though,” Eddie tried to throw Steve a bone. 
Eddie waited for Steve to throw up one of the red flags he’d gotten used to seeing with all the men he’d dated or hooked up with. Eddie would say he didn’t drink, and they’d give him a funny look or mutter something about him being a killjoy. 
“There’s a place that does a wicked deep-dish pizza not far from here. You said you weren’t from Chicago, right? You’ve gotta have the pizza, it’s a rite of passage,” Steve ploughed on.
“Sure,” He muttered trying not to look as surprised as he felt. 
He watched Steve buzz around the record store, shutting up shop and then extending a hand shyly to Eddie. Right, his stupid goddamn leg. At least it gave him an excuse to get up close and personal with Steve in the street and not draw too much attention. 
The two made the short walk to the pizzeria at a plodding pace, talking about nothing in particular. 
“What happened to your leg?” Steve asked as they slid into the booth. 
“Slid on a drumstick and took a nosedive off a stage,” Eddie admitted. He wasn’t going to outright lie to Steve. 
“Ouch,” Steve mumbled, passing the menu over to Eddie. 
“So, you still do band stuff? I remember that high school talent show,” Steve noted, and Eddie cringed, letting his head drop to the table. 
“I really wish you didn’t,” He chuckled before confirming,
“Yeah, I still do band stuff,” as he raised his head and chanced a glance at Steve. 
“Cool,” was all he said before they shifted the subject. 
They were swapping stories about best friends, roommates, shared high-school trauma and generally flirting when a figure approached their booth. It was a kid, who couldn’t be older than fifteen with a shaved head and a battle jacket. He reminded Eddie of himself at that age. He knew what was coming.
“You’re Eddie Emerson, right? From Corroded Coffin,” the kid asked, his hands shaking. He watched as a furrow appeared on Steve’s brow before his jaw dropped. So Steve wasn’t totally clueless. 
“One and only. You want me to sign something for you?” Eddie asked, having gone through this song and dance a million times before. He tried to be nice, after all, it was a kid, but sometimes he got tired of always having to be on. 
To make matters worse it happened in front of Steve. Something about people coming up to him always sat wrong with other guys he’d been with. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or ego that did it, but he knew if he ran into a fan on a date, the rest of the night typically went sideways. 
He signed the back of a napkin as he listened to the kid rattle off praise for their music. He talked about his favourite songs and lyrics. Eddie wished he knew what to say, wished he knew how to take a compliment but he didn’t. To his surprise, he heard Steve speak. 
“Hey, did you make this?” Steve asked indicating the kid's battle jacket, forcing him to come up for air.
“Yeah, all on my own.”
The kid blinked and ran his hand over a couple of the hand-sewn patches. Steve obviously knew nothing about the scene because if you didn’t make your own jacket people would call you a poser. It was a nice shout though because he watched the kid light up. 
“Even the safety pins?” Steve asked curiously.
Eddie watched as the kid launched into a story of every little pin and stitch in the jacket, turning his attention away from Eddie, and giving him space to catch his breath. It was nice. He felt like Steve had seen him.
After another few minutes, the kid’s dad came to collect him and Eddie felt his body sag against the diner booth. 
“You get that all the time?” Steve asked, his foot nudging Eddie’s under the table. 
“You wouldn’t believe it,” He grumbled scrubbing his face. Steve nudged his foot again, giving him a goofy grin. 
“At least he liked your stuff,” He proposed. 
“I’m guessing it’s not your thing,” Eddie reasoned. He wasn’t one for stereotypes, but he really didn’t look like the typical Corroded Coffin fan. 
“I’m not too picky when it comes to music. I just listen to top forty stuff.” Eddie shot him a disbelieving look.  
“Dude you work in a record store,” he laughed and Steve shrugged.
“Among other things. I just got the job to hang out with Robin. She works there too. She only took the job to try and peddle her girlfriend Nancy’s zines. Sometimes I write the sports section because Nancy, Robin and Jonathan don’t know anything about sports.” Eddie rested his head in the palm of his hand, listening attentively. 
“Wait, is that the same Nancy that you dated back in high school?” He asked, trying to sound scandalised, glad to have a break from the rock star bullshit. 
“Like you said, lesbian magnet,” Steve grumbled, mirroring Eddie’s gesture, resting his head in his hand. 
“What are you actually doing in town?” Steve asked, more curious than nosy. 
“Trying to run away from writing our third album,” Eddie spoke. 
It’d been the first time he admitted it out loud. He didn’t talk about his music until he thought it was worth something, but Steve was a good listener. To Eddie’s surprise, he found himself spilling his guts to Steve. He told him all about the third album, about the goddamn symbolism, and the way things just weren’t clicking. 
“Why don’t you give him a reason to stay?” Steve asked when Eddie finished his monologue, as though it was the simplest solution in the world. 
“I mean, Dorothy doesn’t go back to Kansas because she doesn’t like Oz, she misses home. She misses her family. You want your knight guy to stay in fantasy land? Give him someone to stay for,” Steve proposed, and it was like the final puzzle piece sliding into place. It was brilliant.
“Stevie, I could kiss you,” Eddie spoke.
“Is that a promise?” Steve asked with a cheeky grin.
“Let’s get out of here and find out.”
1K notes · View notes
stars4gojo · 7 months
Text
Invisible string
Dad!Gojo x Fem!reader // Young Megumi and Tsumiki mentioned at the end // fluff angst if you squint, found family trope // 1k words
(Not proofread pls don’t kill me for any spelling or grammar mistakes)
Megumi is yet again in another fight but refuses to open up about this one leaving you and Gojo confused and worried
One single thread of gold tied me to you
More of my work 🤍
You’re sitting in the teachers lounge at Jujutsu high alongside Shoko, who’s drinking her daily dose of caffeine while you go through your paperwork.
You pay no mind when Gojo flops on the couch next to you whining loudly to grab your attention. 
You ignore it the first time, you let it slide the second but now it’s the third time and you’re slowly losing your patience.
“You’re just really gonna leave me hanging like this?” Gojo asks raising his blindfold from one eye so he can see you clearly. 
You let out a deep sigh as you turn towards him giving him a deadpanned look. 
“I’m busy right now Satoru.” You replied as you went back to finishing up paperwork. 
“Too busy for me? Your strong, beautiful, handsome boyfriend?” Gojo asked and you could almost hear the pout forming on his lips. 
Shoko let out a little chuckle, “You sure he’s good mopping around like that?” She asked in amusement.
“Let him be, he’s probably gonna complain about Megumi again.” You replied as if you were used to his antics.
“Megumi..?” Shoko questioned as she pondered to herself you just shook your head in response with a smile tugging on your lips at your friend’s forgetfulness. 
“Ah! The Zenin child?” Shoko asked as she snapped her fingers and you only hummed in response.
“So Gojo what about the Zenin?” Shoko asked now turning her attention towards your sulky man child. 
“Well I’m glad you asked Shoko, unlike some people here.” Gojo replied, suddenly energetic - putting emphasis on the word some. 
“He has a great technique and potential but he’s just, so ugh what’s the word for it..” Gojo started as he thought about his word choices.
“Satoru if you’re here to complain to us about how you’re getting bullied by a 7 year old we don’t wanna hear about it.” You replied while a little chuckle escaped your mouth.
Gojo squinted his eyes at you as he continued, ��Well you wouldn’t know how it feels! Cause as soon as you’re there he’s all rainbows and unicorns and suddenly wants to eat all of his vegetables and wants to brush his teeth on time.” He rolled his eyes.
You got up from your seat making way to the couch, holding his face in your hands.
“I’m sorry Toru.” You said as his eyes lit up. “Is there anything I can help with?” You added.
“You two make me sick” Shoko spoke under her breath as she got up making her way out of the room. 
“Megumi got in a fight again in school and he’s refusing to do any training today.” Gojo said with a sigh.
“He got into another WHAT?” Satoru i told you to contact me when this happens. Did you get called into school? God please help me if you told him to use cursed energy when he gets into fight again because I will NOT be holding back.” You spoke fast, clearly distressed.
“Relax y/n I spoke to the teacher and I did not tell him to tuck his thumb this time or use cursed energy.” He said and you could only sign in relief. 
“It’s just that he…he’s not sharing why he fought in the first place.” Gojo started speaking as his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.
“Well usually, he says that they were bullies but this time his mouth his shut couldn’t even get him to open up during a froyo session.” Gojo added.
“So please just talk to him? You always seem to know what to say and he likes you more anyways.” Gojo asked and your heart melted a little at his sincerity. 
“Ok, I’ll pick him up from school tomorrow and I’ll speak to him. You don’t worry about it you big baby.” You replied as you pinched his cheeks. 
So, this is how you found yourself picking up Megumi from school and he was more than shocked to see you waving at exactly pickup time - Gojo almost always runs late or sends Ijichi to pick him up instead.
“Hi Megumi how was school.” You asked as he buckled his seatbelt.
“You’re not at work today?” Megumi asked as he put his eyebrows up in question.
“Well I wanted to talk to you Megumi, why’d you get into a fight yesterday hm?” You asked softly, being extra cautious.
“I told him not to tell you, I knew you’d be mad.” Megumi huffed out.
“Mad? Gumi I’m not mad at all i just wanna know why it happened so I can help you.” You replied looking at him through the rear-view mirror. 
“Well they were saying mean things.” He huffed again folding his arms to his chest. 
“Were they saying mean things to someone else? Or was it about you Megumi? You need to tell me so I can help you.” You asked gently.
“It was nothing you need to worry about.” Megumi harshly spoke back and you could only frown in response.
“I won’t be mad.” You added.
“They said mean things about me.” He replied after a minute of silence.
“What did they say Megumi?” You asked again.
“They said I don’t have a real dad or mom and that their moms tell them to not hang out with me cause you and Gojo are weird.” He said avoiding eye contact, embarrassed about getting worked up over something like this.
You gave him a tight lipped smile in response, not knowing where to start.
“You don’t have say anything I don’t have a mom or dad but it’s okay cause I’ve got you guys.” He said, almost murmuring as a light blush formed on his already rosy cheeks.
“You’re right Megumi, you don’t have a mom or dad but you have me and Gojo. You know we love you and Tsumiki a lot so next time someone says anything about you or our family you go straight to a teacher or tell me or Gojo and we will figure it out hm?” You asked turning around for a second to give him a reassuring smile as he nodded in response.
“Right, you do know that you owe Satoru an apology for yesterday? Skipping out on lessons and being mean to him.” You questioned while raising one eyebrow.
“Yeah yeah I’ll do that.” He spoke putting his head down in shame as you could only giggle.
To be fair those parents were not wrong, Gojo definitely gave everyone the wrong impression from his immature humour and Megumi’s dad did walk out on him but, that’s okay because your little, slightly dysfunctional family is now his home and forever. 
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quickandsilvers · 1 month
Note
Consider: something like this w/Peter.
https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGed5Ysh5/
Like, Peter gets hurt on a mission and he comes back with just a couple bruises and he's like, "it's just a bruise, I was shot in my costume".
[Cue the touch bit here]
Idk, I'm just,,,,, thinking,,,,, 😳😳😳
A/N- I made this wayyy longer than it had to be but.. sue me? I decided to do Reader/Peter’s introduction too because why the hell not! Also, whats a fic of mine without smut, huh?
Medical Malpractice and Awkward Interactions🔥
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Peter Maximoff x fem!reader SMUT 🔥
Summary: Many times Peter Maximoff embarrasses himself in front of you, and one time you patch him up… and screw him against a shower wall. It’s standard first-aid procedure, right?
Warnings: slow burn (kinda), pining, blood, wounds, LOTS of sexual innuendoes, Nurse/Patient role-play, handjob, p in v, oral (Peter receiving), dirty talk, grinding, public humiliation, creampie, shower sex
Word Count: 9905
Taglist: @kaismanwich @evpeters87 @pretzel-bunnie (Please ask if you want to be added/removed!)
—————————————————————————
For most of his thirty plus years of his life, Peter Maximoff considered himself as a relatively easy person to get along with. He had friends who were somewhat happy to have him as company, despite his overly-outgoing nature and lack of social cues.
Magda had raised him to the best of her ability, or at least until the damned speedster mutation kicked in at twelve. After school nights of pretend tea-parties with Wanda or playing kick-the-can with the neighborhood children turned into petty-theft and a challenge of sending poor mama Maximoff on the brink of insanity and financial instability.
So yeah, said mutation sorta sent Peter into a boisterous, thieving tailspin. But hey, at least he wasn’t a complete jackass.
He never smoked, never drank, and since joining the Xmen, Peter only stole things from major companies that wouldn’t notice it was missing in the first place; and occasionally the few Rainbow or Jimi Hendrix vinyls that caught his attention passing by. ‘No one’s perfect, prof!’ Peter would tell Xavier as he returned to the mansion, only to be greeted by an unimpressed shake of the head.
And yes, he did pay back the money his mother paid for the local police to keep the mass amount of snack cakes in his basement under wraps. Once again, Peter wasn’t a complete jackass.
But then, he met you. You were a fellow professor at Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Children, and were renowned across campus - if you weren't teaching music theory, you could either be found giving study sessions for students falling behind or making your famed lasagna bake whenever the Xmen came home from a mission - and you were loved for it.
And you were pretty. Like, shit! Hella pretty. Whether it was your skill at engaging everyone in your lectures or your jaw-droppingly gorgeous face, you held the unofficial record for the most loved on campus. Peter, as the school’s physical education teacher, was second place, and for once he didn't mind getting the silver medal.
He'd heard about you in the staff room one morning. All good things. A real glowing report card. Everyone loved you and for good reason, apparently. But you hadn’t met yet.
That was until Peter realized your class was in the morning and an hour before his PE lesson began, so he decided to snoop around to check out if you were as good as everyone said you were.
Arriving at the back of the classroom, Peter pushed his goggles up to his head, tufts of silvery soft hair coming with it.
And there you were in all your glory, sitting back on your desk and waving to everyone as they walked in, the occasional student getting 'Love your new look, Cynthia!', 'Ready for class, Michael?' or a giant grin and the sporadic finger guns.
Okay, so you were kind too. Kind and pretty. Kind and pretty and obviously smart enough to get a doctorate. Though, how hard was it to get a degree in music; what did you even have to know? Def Leppard formed back in ‘77, Neil Peart is the best drummer of all time, blah blah blah. Pssht, enter Peter into an exam and he’d have a degree in lickedey split!
The fact you had devoted your life to getting a music doctorate compelled Peter to wonder what your taste in said music was. Admittedly, he wasn’t so keen on the idea of you lecturing if Charles had formulated the curriculum himself. What did that old man even listen to? Peter found it hard to imagine his higher up rockin’ it out to Journey.. and God forbid- Black Sabbath?!
Definitely not. Xavier would be limited to the likes of Beethoven. Peter's skin crawled at the thought. Expand your horizons, you powdered-wig wearin’ maniacs!
No matter. If you did turn out to be some kind of sonata orchestral devotee, you wouldn’t be able to resist Peter’s charisma and persuasive techniques. Said persuasion would be helluva lot of nagging in your ear until you subsequently cave; and you would, because everyone does. And eventually you would join the light side of the force, and Peter would teach you the music ‘way of the jedi.’
"Hi! Hello everybody!" You greeted cheerfully and stood up, waving your arms around for emphasis. “It’s great to see you all back looking nice and refreshed!”
Peter normally would have snorted in irony. In most cases, an hour-long lecture at six am in the morning wouldn’t have people ready to learn and raring for the day ahead. In Xavier’s literature lectures, one could easily mistake the students to be flesh-eating, grumbling zombies who hadn’t seen a ray of sunlight in a millennium.
However, as he looked around the room from his seat in the very back, the students filing in had almost cheshire grins on their faces, smiling eagerly at your buzzing figure and sitting up straight in their seats.
Peter’s eyes flitted back to you. The bell bottom jeans you were wearing were dark and fit you perfectly, the flare swishing around as you slowly paced around the room. For the first couple of minutes, he didn't hear a thing you were saying because the swaying was far too distracting.
His eyes trailed upwards. A faux shearling collared leather jacket hung off your frame, belt loose at the hem and clashing against your hip when you took a step. You looked like something straight out of the 60s: and Peter was totally diggin’ it.
The zip was undone, allowing a slither of your t-shirt underneath to show the letters “ardbi” peaking out in a red font. His heart leapt. The Yardbirds, nice, and fitting. Right this second Peter’s walkman hummed the tune of ‘Layla’ by Eric Clapton through his headphones. Quiet enough so he could hear your voice, but loud enough so his head could bop along to the instrumental. Shuffling in his seat, Peter adjusted his RUSH t-shirt, as if wanting him to catch your attention so you could strike up a conversation about it.
What would he say if you did? He needed to impress you, stat; before Scott could find you and chat you up with his extensive motorcycle knowledge that seemed to be all the rage nowadays. Pfft. RUSH was cooler anyways.
All in all, you didn't look like the stereotypical lecturer. Your outfit was far from professional attire, but it didn’t matter; the kids loved you.
Peter was addicted to all of you; from the browline glasses on your head to the Mary Janes on your feet. It was comforting.
"I know you’ve all been working so hard this past semester," you began, leaning against the podium casually, your arms folded as you eyed the students. "And the lovely gentleman that is Professor Xavier would never allow this, but I've decided we can allow ourselves a breath of fresh air and watch a film today."
Cheers and excited whispers rang out in the room as the students smiled impossibly harder, rushing to shove their textbooks into their bags so the film could start.
“Now hold on!” Your laugh graced Peter’s ears, holding your hands up to settle the class. “We haven’t yet discussed the film options! How do we feel about ‘Bobby deerfield’?”
Groans and scoffs resonated through the classroom, and a girl with pigtails a few rows in front of Peter spoke out. “You’re not kiddin’ anybody miss! Everybody knows that film is wack!”
You laughed and stood off the podium, moving towards the open window that was letting in a cold draft. “You know me too well, Jubilee. No one likes that film.” You bent over an empty desk to reach over, closing the window and turning the lock to the right “How about The Empire Strikes Back?”
In a moment of total stillness in the classroom, Peter let out a choked-off groan. Whether it was the sight of you bent over a desk or the mention of that god-tier film, he wasn’t all too sure.
Silence.
Peter knew he had royally embarrassed himself yet again when howls and giggles erupted in the classroom, some students convulsing in laughter and others wolf-whistling as you paused, turning to look back at him.
Jubilee turned around in her seat to stare at her PE teacher, ponytails swinging wildly as she covered her mouth with her hand and guffawed. Peter’s cheeks burned.
"Excited for the film are we, Mr Maximoff?" You quizzed, bemused.
Oh, you noticed too. Great. But you knew his name. Cool, less sarcastically speaking. You were both staff members of the same school so it wasn't that outlandish, but Peter’s stomach still flipped nonetheless.
"Yeh.. aha.. Erm- yunno Luke became a Jedi master in this film, right?" Peter blurted out instinctively, his thoughts in overload under your stare. He kissed his teeth and nodded his head in affirmation. “Pretty.. Pretty cool stuff.”
Congratulations, you thirty-somethin’ year old virgin. You have well and truly out-nerded yourself. This chick will certainly be beggin’ for you to burrow yourself between her thighs now.
Peter swallowed, waiting for someone to say something. Literally anything. All he was met with was muffled giggles and snorts echoing around him. He teaches people in this lecture, dim-wit! How were they gonna respect him and do laps in his classes now, O’ Jedi Master connoisseur?
You grinned sweetly, amused, silently waving your hand for your students to quieten down "Thank you for sharing that, Mr Maximoff, truly. Although I have seen this film before." You nodded in acknowledgement to his RUSH shirt and then returned your focus to the class before Peter could word vomit anything else.
You began to ramble on again. It made sense. Why would you pay attention to him when you had a job to do?
What could he do? Embarrass himself further by standing on his desk and demanding that you have a conversation that ends with you saying, 'Wow, Peter, you're so smart and fast and criminally handsome. Would you like to go to a record store so you can continue to impress me with the sheer amount of knowledge you have stored inside that adorable silver-haired noggin’ of yours?'
A mumble still traveled across the class, primarily because one of their teachers is a raging airhead, but you shushed them quickly by clapping your hands together. It was a casual movement, but one that got everyone's undivided attention again.
"Can anyone guess what year it came out?"
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the blur of a hand go up but you weren’t going to call on them, and so, Peter was left with his palm awkwardly facing towards the stage. You reiterated your question, "Can any of my students take a guess? Mr Maximoff, I'd appreciate it if you could give my class at least 2 minutes so they can discuss the answer."
Peter’s hand lowered slowly and he narrowed his eyes at the person snickering next to him.
“Don’t make me give yer extra laps next lesson, Christopher, the weather forecast ain’t lookin’ so good fer this Friday.”
Christopher abruptly stopped and faced back to you.
Once again, silence met your question until it was broken by a timid voice. A boy in the front row with curly brunette hair was looking at you unsure. You smiled encouragingly and nodded for him to speak up louder.
“1980?"
"Like always, Bobby, you are correct!" You exclaimed happily. Bobby blushed, embarrassed by the attention and compliment but smiling nonetheless as you moved on to another question. "The film came out in 1980. Does anyone know who it starred? Don’t be afraid to speak up!”
The film started soon after and for the entire time, Peter was completely transfixed by you. You leaned against the door and peered up at the projector screen, a smile on your face as you snuck a few handfuls of popcorn out of Bobby’s grasp as he watched the film intently. He now understood the enthusiastic compliments from the staff room, and why you were so loved by everyone. You were infectious.
He couldn't help himself, Peter found his eyes wandering over every part of your body, studying every inch of you before he'd had the chance to properly comprehend that he was being a creep. Appreciating beauty was one thing, leering at women he hadn't met before was another. Keep it in your pants, Maximoff.
As the students piled out of the lecture hall, all chatting loudly as they walked out, Peter waited. A group of girls surrounded you and asked you a bunch of questions, and you answered them all like you were their cool older sister rather than someone who was paid to teach them things. Then they left too, and you were alone.
"Did you enjoy the class, Mr Maximoff?" you asked kindly, a smile tugging at your lips as you turned around slightly. You sat on top of the nearest desk and folded your legs under yourself, resting your elbow on your knee and your head on your fist.
Blinking, Peter froze before nodding vigorously. So vigorous, in fact, that his goggles slid from his head down to the apex of his nose. He huffed in irritation and the exhaled breath fogged up his lenses completely. Peter bets he looks so irresistible right now.
Say something- think of something fast, moron! Isn’t that your whole gimmick? Impress her with your natural God-given charm!
Who are we kidding, this is Peter Maximoff. Master of the Jedi’s and embarrassing silences.
He wiped his goggles with the end of his shirt "I would think a music teacher would be lecturin’ about music, not films.. But yes, yer were- the film was.. very entertainin’."
Shit. Your lip twitched. Did he do somethin’ wrong? Of course he did- he just insulted a Professor’s lecturin’ to their face, ewok!
"You're a professor of...?"
"Err, I teach PE.. yunno.. I just make the kiddos run laps ‘n kick a ball around, basically." No shit, doofus! Maybe stop mansplainin’ what workin’ out is and apologize? “Fuck i’m so sorr-”
You cut him off with a simple wave of your hand, that gorgeous smile of yours decorating your face once again. “It’s alright, honest!” You say, observing his exasperated look as his mouth parts, ready to apologize “Jean told me that your mouth moves faster than your brain sometimes, I don’t take any offense to what you said.”
Peter sighs, relieved yet processing your words. “So, uh..” he hesitated, an awkward yet boastful smirk building then “Yer talk about me? All good things, I hope.”
You felt a heat rising to your face immediately and you looked around the room to avoid his intense stare, your eyes falling to another window you had yet to close. The cogs in your head turn and you whip around to face Peter, fanning yourself with your hand and beginning to shrug off your jacket. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” You faux panted, moving away from him to open the window like you needed a cold breeze.
Peter watched as you bent over, much closer now and able to see you from straight behind. His eyes grazed your body with a suggestive smirk.
“Just you, babe.”
Okay, babe?! Not helping your flushed state, at all!
You muffle your sputter by coughing, turning around once again and sitting on the desk. You watch as Peter walks up to you, standing close enough that his thighs force your legs a little wider around him.
The silence is unbearable, so you break it. “I mean, of course I've mentioned you once or twice, dude!” You chuckle nervously, “It’s hard to miss someone that looks like you speedin’ around the mansion.”
You register the confused shift in his gaze and now it’s your turn to run back on what you said, jumping in realization and your knee knocking into his trouser-clad outer thigh. “Not that you look weird in any way! I just meant the whole ‘silver’ aesthetic is totally bitchin’! And obviously I’ve heard about that whole Apocalypse fiasco in ‘84. It was really brave, what you did, and I can’t help but thank you for savin’ the whole world.. and whatever..”
You trail off as you babble yourself into a frenzy, Peter’s delighted grin humiliating you further as he wiggles his eyebrows.
“Thanks, babe.” You let out a shuddery breath. Again?! Where was this confidence when he was making a fool out of himself not just a minute ago?
Peter gave in at your pleading gaze and stepped back, a sheepish smile on his face as he looked down to the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. He swayed back and forth on his heels. “I better go anyway. Places to be, worlds to save.. Y’know how it is, babe.” The uneasiness on his features left as soon as it came, now replaced with a cocky smirk and a sly wink.
“Well, if you come back in one piece, maybe we could, I dunno, go out for a movie or somethin’?” You ask apprehensively “since you seem to like Star Wars so much.”
“Y-yeah!” Peter said almost too quickly, clearing his throat before gathering his thoughts and masking the elated grin battling to appear. “I mean, only if yer gonna be makin’ that lasagna, right?” He quipped, stomach rumbling at the thought.
You nodded in answer, grinning. “Just come stop by whenever you’re free and we’ll figure out a date, yeah?” Your eyes widened. “I mean date as in time!”
Peter wiggled his eyebrows again, speeding to the door and saluting you before making his way to the training room, fistbumping the air. Fuckin’ score!
For the remainder of the day, Peter couldn’t keep his mind off of you and the promised movie date you were set to have after his mission, uncontrollably vibrating in excitement whilst boarding the X-jet the day after.
“Promise me you’ll stay safe, yeah?” You ask him, standing on the runway as you smooth out the wrinkles in his uniform, your palm flat on his chest.
A broad grin spread across Peter’s face as he placed his own hand above yours, running his thumb smoothly over your skin.
“Don’t worry about little ol’ me, ‘kay? A promise is a promise, sweet-cheeks.”
——————————————————————————
Peter’s not a jackass. He would never intentionally go back on his word.
But that was a pretty damn hard promise to fulfill.
As soon as the jet landed four hours too late, Peter crashed into the living room couch, ignoring any questions of passers by for medical assistance. He practically melted into the linen cushions, exhaling deeply.
The kid previously sitting on the couch scowled as Peter stretched himself across the furniture, waving the younger student off with his hand. “I’m an Xman, I have the authority here.” The cushions muffled Peter’s grumble.
All in all, he wasn’t that hurt. In reality, the mission was fairly easy-going. Peter was barrelling through an evacuated suburban village, rescuing any stragglers that had found themselves lost or stuck under rubble, whilst the other Xmen dealt with arresting the rogue mutant. Blurs of grays and browns passed him at rapid speed as he did one last sweep of the area, confident in the fact that all people had been safely vacated.
Leaning onto a particularly large mound of debris, Peter swung his leg in boredom, waiting on Charles to give him the go-ahead to start the X-jet back to the mansion. The wind picked up, sending his tufts of hair back and away from his forehead.
Abruptly, a flurry of white flew into the air, startling Peter as he whipped around, ready to attack.
The sight wasn’t as menacing as he thought, though. Small seeds dispersed across the terrain, each carrying a bundle of fluffy white bristles in its wake. He looked down to the sparse grass and was met with a patch of green stems, like a blossom without its petals. Peters brows furrow. What a funny lookin’ flower.
Crouching down, Peter plucks the base of a stem with all its remaining puffballs, cupping his hand in the direction of the wind so it wouldn’t fly away. He grinned, standing up again and inspecting it. It looked peculiar, and rather outlandish. Just his style.
He was halfway through tucking the flower carefully into his back pocket before something slammed into him, sending Peter tumbling into a jagged pile of rubble and fragments of serrated wood.
Motherfucker! He groaned, feeling a searing pain shoot through his stomach. A pile of dust shot up into the air almost comically, leaving a tangy taste on his tongue. Bleh. With feeble limbs, Peter lifted himself onto his elbows, looking down from his cracked goggles to shakily unzip his uniform halfway, revealing a hefty patch of crimson fluid staining his white undershirt. Scraps of wreckage tore holes through the fabric, revealing shallowish wounds littering his chest and stomach. Fuck!
Peter blinked slowly, turning his gaze to try and detect who or what had struck him. Just to the right of his aching body, a sizable slab of concrete stuck out of the ground, that had presumably collapsed from a nearby building.
How fuckin’ embarrasin’! Peter was probably gonna scar from this incident, and he would have to tell people the ‘heroic’ tale of how it went down? That he was assaulted by a chunk of rock? The students barely respected him from the whole classroom debacle with you the day prior; how were they ever gonna treat him with high regard now?
That’s right. You. How were you gonna react when he tells you? ‘Oh, How am i doin’, sweetcheeks? Thank yer for askin’, i got a real wild story fer these battle scars. What was it, ya ask? Hand-to-hand combat with buildin’ material. Sexy, right?’
Yeah, no. He had already embarrassed himself enough around you.
Once he had been strapped back into his seat, with the help of Hank, Peter now had to endure two hours of throbbing pain, and Scott giggling next to him.
Peter slumped into his seat, whining into his dust-cracked hands. “What the fuck am I gunna tell her, man? I can’t keep on embarrassin’ myself like this!”
“Don’t worry too much, dude, you’ll forget about this in no time.” Scott assured, smiling and placing a hand on his shoulder, before screwing his face up and wiping the dust frantically on his sleeve. Peter hummed, albeit confused. When was Scott ever the one to give Peter actual reassurance?
“All in all, it’s just another brick in the wall, man.” Ah, there it was. Peter slowly turned to face Scott, deadpanning and watching the boy’s shoulders shake from silent laughter.
Scott shrieked as Peter shook his head like a wet dog, showering his best friend in a flurry of dust.
Once the flight had come to a halt, Peter limped through the mansion's corridors, hobbling to the living room couch as he was in too much pain to climb the few flights of stairs to his room.
Peter grumbled into the couch, eyes hooded as he melted into the material, ready to fall asleep.
And then you came barreling into the room. Peter sat up as you rushed into the room, nudging him into the back of the couch and placing your knees either side of his quivering hips, clutching his face. Peter really wished he had showered now.
“Take off your shirt.” Come again? Were Peter’s wounds making him hallucinate some filthy apparatition?
He blinked. “Eh?”
“When did you get back? No one told me you got back and I've been worried like crazy. You were four hours late, Peter!” You stressed, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide. “Kurt told me you were injured! Did the mutant hurt you? He said you went flyin’ into rubble and practically got impaled!”
You were speaking in such quick succession that it had impressed Peter by your pace. He merely blinked once more, too caught up with your smooth hands against his cheeks and your frantic words. You were worried about him?
“I’m fine, babe.”
You glance down to his stomach, however you couldn’t see much of anything due to the dark hue of his uniform. “I can’t believe you were impal-”
“Not that I don't appreciate yer concern fer me babe, but 'm fine.” You glared at him “Honest! It’s just a few scrapes. Nothin’ i can’t handle.” he grinned, attempting to ease you up a little.
Despite Peter’s best efforts, you still seem just as on edge as before. Taking your hands off his cheeks, he whined at the loss of warmth, chasing your touch. Instead, you reach down to grasp hold of the zipper at the top of his ensemble, zipping it down to just above his hips. His mouth makes a small ‘o’ before contorting into a lazy smirk, glancing up at you.
“Easy there, tiger.”
A glimpse of his stained undershirt tells you all you need to know. You meet his gaze anxiously as Peter gives you a guilty grin, shrugging his shoulders at being called out. “Okay, maybe it’s slightly worse than i let on but-”
“Take your shirt off.” You urge imperatively, and he flushes.
“I dunno babe, I'm like, supeerrr sore. I don't think I can do it by myself, yer gonna have to help me.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. It was blatantly obvious Peter was flirting, any common idiot could tell. But he looked pretty beaten up, and you were mostly sure that moving him around too much would not feel too great for the speedster, so you obliged.
You lift his shirt up in gradual intervals, keeping your focus on the garment as he grins straight at you, clearly wanting to catch you peeking a glance at his body.
“Normally I'd be buyin’ yer dinner before showin’ off the goods… but-” Peter cuts off as you peel the shirt away from one particularly deep wound, the skin sticking to the material. You whisper apologies, lifting the shirt off his head and discarding it to the side. You glanced back down.
Peter noticed your blatant staring and looked up at you, tilting his head to the side. "So are you goin’ ter look me up and down like that ‘er are yer gunna patch me up?"
“Shush, ‘m not looking at you like anythin’!”
“Mhm, sure yer weren’t sugar.” He beamed. You redden, his thoughts transmitting like a beacon through his facial expression.
“Dont make this sexual..” You mutter, avoiding his gaze as you look around for the medkit you brought with you. Peter follows your movements with his gaze, head leaning back to rest of the edge of the couch whilst you shuffled about the room.
“Now what fun would that be, hm? Can’t I enjoy some attention from a beautiful woman like you?”
With the supplies you return to your earlier position, standing over his shirtless body and desperately trying to keep your thoughts at bay.
Finally taking a closer glance, you see his wounds, shallow, but littering his stomach and chest. There was a fairly large but not too serious cut on the right side of his abs and you lightly gasp, your fingertips reaching for it. “Can I touch you?”
Peter groaned “Ooh, yer can touch me anywhere yer want sugar.”
Choosing to ignore him, you open the first aid box with a satisfying click, taking out a roll of bandages, cotton pads and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, placing it down on the couch next to you. As you do so Peter takes a deep breath, letting him savor the scent of your perfume before the alcohol’s smell eclipsed it.
“So are ya my nurse now?” Peter observes “Kinky. Didn't know yer were into roleplay, but i'm not gonna lie, im kinda diggin’ it babe.”
You choke, smacking his arm. Too far, maximoff.
Peter winces, “Hey! Do ya hit all yer patients? This is medical malpractice right here! I was just sayin- this is like the start to every porno ive ever see-” he hisses as you press down the alcohol soaked cotton pad on his wound.
“Sorry, this may sting a little.” you say half apologetically.
“Well it don't mean anythin’ if yer warn me after, babe!” He whimpers, reaching to grab your hips for support from your position above him. You suppress the urge to rut into his lap, continuing your cleaning as you feel an onslaught of slick ooze from your core. You tried to keep in the sigh, but it fell so easily from your mouth at his touch.
“Ouch. Ow. Ow, ow oW OW!! Babe?! Does the word ow mean anythin’ to yer? Ye- agh-OW!” Peter shrieks, and you wince at the voice crack “Jesus christ! Who taught yer how to tend to people’s injuries? A construction worker with a jackhammer? OW!”
Despite his clear pain you stifle a laugh, swiping more gently this time. “It’s all part of the process, Peter. I’m trying to help you here.”
“Oh really? Are yer tryna help me or finish the fuckin’ job, babe?!”
A moment of tranquility passes, and just before you think Peter will stay quiet and let you get on with your work his voice drops, a sultry tone now teasing your ears. “I've got ter say babe.. when I pictured ya with yer hands roamin’ my chest, the wound was conspicuously absent.” You failed to keep in your reaction this time, a shuddery whimper leaving your mouth as you tense. Peter bites his lip, grin impossibly wide and his hands snaking around your hips.
You feel him pull you in closer and you oblige, facing him as you sit down onto his lower thighs as carefully as you can, not wanting to cause him any further strain. He grins.
“Okay, one more cut to clean and I'm done, yes? Then you can be bandaged up.” Clearing your throat, you await his response.
Peter inhales, screwing his eyes shut in preparation “M’kay, ‘m ready. Jus- FUCK.” You press the cotton ball onto his wound, watching as his muscles tense up and he grips onto your hips for support. Chewing on his lip in anguish, his head throws back once more. You refrain from looking at his adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat.
His tight grip on your hips loosen after a minute and you hum, proceeding to unravel the bandages and wrap them around his torso.
Peter looks at you seriously for a moment, breaking the silence in a much more apologetic way this time. “ ‘M Sorry about blowin’ the whole movie thing, I know yer wanted to go out after i got back.. I guess this will have to be our version of a first date, huh?” He chuckles half heartedly, but his eyes oozed regret and mourning for your date to the theatre.
You move a slither of hair out of his eyes, smiling. “I don't mind either way, we could always go out another time, yeah? And no one predicted you were gonna get hurt like that, it’s not your fault, Peter.”
“Yeah, thanks babe.” your heart clenches as his dimples show through his toothy smile.
Clearing his throat, Peter’s large hands splayed across the small of your back, sliding you from his lower thighs to be flush against his crotch. He grins cheekily as you gasp, feeling his semi hard cock through the soft material of his unzipped uniform.
Hands laying to rest on his bare shoulders, you smooth your thumb over his collarbone. You move your other hand down from his left shoulder, your fingertips grazing down his arm before reaching his hand. Gently coaxing his grasp away from your hip, you interlace your fingers, clasping them together as his other hand frames your jaw.
“Hey.. uh, I think I might have a little scratch up here on my lip. I don't s’pose yer would be interested in checkin’ it out, doc?” Peter’s sweet, chocolate browns shed a spicier shade when he captures your gaze.
Your body answers before you can talk, tongue wetting your lips, leaving him in suspense for a moment.
You faux sigh in thought, “I guess I can’t leave a patient suffering. It would be medical malpractice, and I always make sure my patient gets the care he deserves.”
Peter’s eyes dilate then, and you begin to question whether or not he was joking about the roleplay kink. Alas, you had no more time to ponder as he didn’t waste a single second, bumping your nose against his before seizing your lips.
Kissing him sensually, your tongue swims smoothly against his as you move to scrape your fingers across his scalp. Whining in response, Peter’s head lolls back at the stimuli as you nibble his lower lip. You could feel Peter’s cock twitch and you grind slowly against it, eliciting a filthy moan from his mouth into yours.
As you swallow and get over the initial wave of adrenaline, a bitter and rather tangy taste invades your mouth, forcing you to pull back as Peter chases your lips. You place a hand to his chest, breathing hard and scrunching your face up. “Bleh!”
Peter’s half lidded gaze snaps back open as he observes your clear disgust, swiping his tongue over his own lips in questioning. “Uh- yer.. yer alright over there? I know ‘m sorta outta practise but-“
You swipe your thumb over your lips, noticing a few specks of dust covering them. Peter notices and brings a hand to his forehead, slapping himself at his idiocy.
“Shit! Sorry, babe. I totally just crashed here when i got back, forgot about the whole.. grime situation.” Peter grimaces, cursing himself under his breath, “Way to kill the fuckin’ mood, Maximoff.”
To his surprise, you only lean in closer, batting your eyelashes at him. “Patients have to be clean before assessments can begin. Standard procedure. I hope you don’t mind if I scrub you down?”
Your sultry voice forces a heat to pool in Peter’s belly, and he chokes on his own groan, pupils dilating further.
Fwip. You don’t even get the chance to scooch off his lap before Peter had you in his bathroom, shirtless and with his navy uniform dangling around his v-line. Another Fwip and Peter turned on the shower before pulling your back against his chest, tugging at your t-shirt as a silent plea of desperation and unbridled horniness.
Your mouth parts as his head dips into your shoulder. You swore you could hear the faintest of whimpers leave his mouth as he tenderly kisses your clothed shoulder, his lips humming small vibrations of aroused distress.
What choice did you have but to comply?
As you turned around, undressing yourself before him, Peter’s eyes drunk you in, his eyebrows twitching and his teeth sinking into his lip at your little strip show. Down to the last few articles of clothing, you removed your underwear slowly, a thread of wetness connecting your pussy with the soaked fabric.
“Jesus Christ.” He muttered, his hands quivering as you then slung your t-shirt somewhere around the room, eager to surge forward and grasp at every part of your body.
You smiled, flattered yet unsure of what to do, your eyes too preoccupied with Peter’s uniform, of which was slowly sliding down his hips, revealing the black band of his underwear.
“So.. nurse, I think 'm ready fer my physical.” Peter chuckled, observing proudly as your breathing sped up rapidly, gazing at his torso.
“Need any help undressing?” You asked, motioning to his bandaged chest and bruised arms. “It must be sore.”
“Yes please, nurse.” Peter replied flirtatiously, maintaining his character as patient. You stalk over to him, getting on your knees as you start pulling his uniform and boxers down as slowly as possible without Peter getting frustrated. As you do so, you notice his painfully hard dick slapping upwards from its confines. Smiling, you innocently glance up at Peter’s blushing state, inching forward as if you were about to…
Peter’s cock twitched and he gasped as you surged forward, only to completely pass where he needed you most as you teasingly peck the inside of his thigh, eyes still boring into his own.
“C’mon babe.. That ain’t playin’ fair.” A mix between a whine and a growl left Peter’s throat as you stood up to face his pleading eyes. Taking his face in your palms, your soft lips tease him by brushing against his lips, but not yet giving in to kissing him.
“I think It’s best if I check your temperature orally first.” You mumble. Capturing his lips roughly, your kiss turns into a wet, dueling passion. As you battle for dominance, Peter kicks off the clothing pooling around his ankles, guiding you backwards and into the awaiting shower.
Hot water cascades over you as he pulls you close again, diving in for another heated kiss that you’re all too eager to return.
You have no idea how long your tongues swirl around one another, but eventually a hand grips your wrist and tugs you away. You go easily, and when you look up at Peter, he grins giddily and places a bar of soap in your hands. You lick your lips, this time no longer unwelcomed by the taste of dust and plastering, but of Peter.
The room becomes stuffy as the water from the shower starts to get hot. You sigh as the hot water caresses your skin, or maybe it was from Peter running his hands over your body. They stop on your breasts before gently squeezing them, looking down at you with a dopey grin. You throw your head back as the water runs over your chest.
As Peter prodded and squeezed your tits like they were some new gadget you began the slow, worshipful task of running your soapy hands across his chest, making sure to leave the bandaged areas alone.
"I would really appreciate it if you communicated every ache, any pain that needs tendin’ to, sir." You say, moving to whisper the words in his ear sweetly, the filthy undertones dripping from your tongue.
Peter pauses briefly before managing to regain control over himself, grabbing your arm and pulling you impossibly close. He nuzzles into your neck as he whispers back in a playful manner. "I've got one in a specific place. Maybe yer could help me by usin’ those magic hands of yours, doc?"
"Mhh, or do you need me to kiss it better, Peter?" You tease, licking your bottom lip suggestively before biting the plump flesh with a wink.
Peter’s face turns into a huge blush and his heartbeat starts accelerating even more as he watches you move in close, staring into his eyes. His mind goes absolutely blank and he can only stare at you in shock. His breathing becomes heavier as he looks at your lips and how you bite them; and with that a strange flurry of stammers leave his mouth.
“Nghnaawhaaaaat?”
"Peter? Can you show me where it hurts, honey?" You continue to tease him with a pout. God, you were such a fuckin’ brat.
He can't help but feel both embarrassed and surprised at how forward your question is. He clears his throat "Uh... R-Right here, doll..." He says in a nervous manner as his blush deepens even more, then he points at his twitching cock. You follow his line of sight and smile, watching as beads of pre-cum drizzle out of his tip.
"Aww, poor baby. How long has it been hurting?" You furrow your brows, a mischievous look in your eyes as you place your hands on his chest, traveling downwards.
Peter looks at you with a shocked expression for the fifth time that night, tilting his head much like a puppy as he watches you in awe.
Shiit... Are you really doing this? It’s a good thing you didn’t fully embrace the doctor-patient performance with a stethoscope and all, because you’d certainly be worrying about the freakishly-fast roadrunner beat Peter’s heart was jammin’ to. Fuck.
"Do you want me to kiss it better, baby?" You quiz sweetly.
Peter starts to feel his breath getting heavier as his heart is racing faster, wayy too fuckin’ fast. "Ah... Y-Yeah..." He replies softly, still feeling his face turn into a brighter red as he slowly nods.
Every nerve in his body went on high alert as Peter watched your fingers close around his aching cock and move over the swollen flesh. A tortured gasp escaped his lips, and he threw his head back against the shower wall, panting; it felt so good, your smooth palm creating a delicious friction. He thrust forward into your hand, wanting you to continue, his shame at being naked and aroused gone entirely.
Your face was still close. Close enough to observe his face, fascinated at the raw sensuality flickering across it. Drops of water freckled Peter’s cheeks and forehead; you weren't sure if it was the spray from the shower or his own sweat. His mouth was open slightly, and his rough breathing was causing yours to speed up as well. You smoothed your hand back down his wet length and drew the other hand down to cup his balls.
Peter hissed loudly and pushed his hips forward again, cursing. You couldn't tear your eyes from his profile; he was flushed, his lips dusky and moist, the silver of his eyelashes standing out against his fevered cheek. Simply delectable, and you wanted to have a taste.
The touch of your lips on his neck brought Peter to the surface as you pressed your breasts to his chest, your lips everywhere. They ghosted over his collarbone, shoulder, neck and jaw before closing over his earlobe. He moaned, turning, seeking out your lips.
Peter's eyes opened as you released your hands from him. In no time Peter had locked lips with you once more, in a clash of teeth and moisture; whether it was spit or water you weren’t entirely sure. He raised his hands to your breasts at the same time your tongue parted the seam of his lips, and the two of you moaned together before fusing your open mouths.
Your eyes fluttered closed as Peter ground the raised centers of your nipples into his large palms, then rubbed a thumb over each in rhythm. Your initial intentions were to tease the ever-loving shit out of the speedster, but you couldn’t but melt into a puddle at his tender touches.
Peter’s erection was pressing into your belly, hard as steel. You ground against it, wanting it lower and inside, quickly losing your intention to mess around. Abruptly breaking the kiss to breathe, you quirked an eyebrow at Peter. "So, have you made up your mind?"
"Wha-?" He was adorably confused, his pupils dilated in the shadowy light. You grinned and reached between yourselves to stroke along his cock lightly, picking up the trickle of pre-cum on his cockhead and rubbing it around the smooth, ragingly red area.
Lightly pushing Peter back under the full spray, you sank to your knees in front of him. Handling him gently, you sucked the tip of him into your mouth, savoring the much nicer tangy sensataaion.
"Oh Fuck," The speedster moaned on a sharp inhalation of breath. This was progressing past the realm of sweaty-palm fantasies and straight into the embodiment of every pornographic dream he'd ever had; only those dreams had never felt quite so hot.
Your mouth was liquid fire over him, your tongue circling and teasing, making him grow even larger.
He resisted the urge to grab your head and thrust into your mouth like he had seen in the pornos, giving you free reign over his pleasure. Instead Peter coursed his hands through your damp hair, giving you wordless pats of praise when you traced up a particularly sensitive vein.
Already weak at the knees from your mouth, Peter nearly shot when he looked down and caught you watching him with feverish eyes. The image was so blatantly erotic, he couldn't help but complete it by curling his fingers deeper into your hair.
The slight jerk of his hands on your scalp told you that Peter was close to going completely out of control. His slight grunt and increased participation, in turn, increased your enthusiasm. Releasing your grip around the base of his cock, you tried to take him deeper. This you had tried before with varying amounts of success, usually gagging as the overzealous recipient tried to choke you.
However, with an untried Peter, you were having a great deal more success with the technique.
After figuring out how to time your breathing with the motions, you crept forward and began in earnest, taking Peter in until your nose touched his silvery pubic hair. His hands tightened again, and this time his whimper of pleasure was louder, needier.
He was so close, water pounding his chest, blood pounding in his ears, lips, tongue and friction at the center of it all.
Nearly mindless now, searching for that sweet release, Peter thrust forward a bit, searching for the movement that would send him over the edge. When he encountered no resistance from you, he thrust his hips in rhythm with your mouth until he could take no more.
You could feel Peter's flesh tightening and knew he was ready to blow a load. He tried to push you away before he let go, but you gripped the back of his thighs tightly and sucked hard, an explosion of cum shooting down your throat and tongue.
You gagged a little when the first stream hit the back of your throat, but you recovered enough to hear the incoherent whines Peter made. Another grunt escaped from him as you rubbed your soft tongue over the underside of his dick, moving over the pulsating veins there.
It was all Peter could do to keep from crumpling as he shot harder than he ever had in his life, knees weak from the sheer force of it.
If you hadn't been there to maintain the grip on his legs, he would have melted into a pile of jelly at your knees.
Once you had ridden out his orgasm and released him you stood back up, pushing back the soaken strands of hair that hung off his forehead. Peter grinned, chest heaving as he watched your tongue come out, licking a spot of his release you had missed on your lip.
“Feeling any better, sir?”
Again, Peter felt tongue-tied. He wasn't sure what to say or do. Even though he'd had the most soul-sucking orgasm of his life, his dick was still half-hard. Typical speedster sex drive.
The water was still hot, yet wouldn’t be lasting for much longer. He had to make this count.
Your breasts brushed his chest again when Peter leaned in to capture your lips with his. A slight squeak of surprise escaped you when he separated the seam of your lips with his tongue and pushed forward aggressively. Your tongues duelled, battling for position. Peter could taste the musky odor of his own arousal on your lips, strangely exotic. His hands were tender when he lifted the weight of your breasts in his hold.
Nothing in his fantasies matched the feel of your nipples as he circled over them. Softly puckered flesh dragged under the smooth calluses of his thumbs, causing you to moan softly and push your torso against his.
Straightening up, Peter grasped your waist tightly and with a smirk, swiftly spun you around, pushing you forward into the shower wall.
You let out a hiss as your nipples came in contact with the cold tiles, them becoming painfully hard. Peter gently pushed your hair aside before placing a chaste kiss on your neck; you moved your head to the side, allowing him better access.
Peter rested his forehead between your shoulder blades as the water ran down his back. He took a deep breath in, trailing a hand down your back before pulling back and slapping your ass. The loud moan that fell from your lips made him chuckle, "You've done yer job doc, now yer need payment.”
You nodded your head as you whimpered, feeling yourself become more and more turned on and unbelievably wet. You feel Peter’s tip rubbing your folds, spreading your moisture around as you whimper in anticipation.
You looked back over your shoulder to Peter glancing down at where you two meet. Raising an eyebrow, you went to say something but Peter's quick thrust into you made all the air in your lungs escape. You were wet enough that it didn’t hurt, but the delicious stretch it provided you made your eyes roll back into your head.
Hands slipping as you try to hold onto something, your breasts bounce into the wall as you whimper, legs spreading further so Peter could fully enter you.
Without stopping and with a thoughtful hum, Peter reached up towards the detachable shower head and flicked the setting to a steady stream of fast water, pulling it down.
You could hear him doing something and looked back over your shoulder to see him messing with the shower head, "Are you about to-" You let out a cry as you felt the pressure from the water on your clit, "Shi- shit! Peter!" The pleasure making your eyes roll back.
You attempt to snap your thighs shut, trying to escape the intense pressure on your bundle of nerves. Peter, however, had other plans as he huffs breathlessly, lips dragging up the sensitive skin of your neck. He nips at your ear, using a free hand to spread your legs apart.
“Yer need to keep ‘em spread for me. Y-yer can do that fer me, can’t ya, babe?” He grunts into your ear. You whimper, nodding.
“That’s a- f-fuck.. good girl.”
In a carnal rage, a clatter sounds as Peter drops the shower head, gripping your hips with both hands as he fucks up into you, leaning his bodyweight onto yours to give him more leverage. The faster he fucked into you, the faster the feeling of your climax crested. This one felt different, more intense, and you both knew it.
You make a pitiful noise, again and again as Peter drives his cock into your cunt, hitting your G-spot every single time.
“Therrre she is. Is that it, yeah? That spot feel good, honey?” You could feel Peter’s grin against your throat. “Yer squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight. Can yer hear that?”
The slick sounds of his cock fucking into you was loud over your pants for air, and you nodded weakly. You felt slick and pre-cum run down your thighs as Peter moved in and out of your heat in rapid succession, much like an animal in heat. "I think yer might even squirt fer me, doc.”
A shuddered moan fell from your lips before you agree. Sharp, white hot pleasure tore through your body, from head to toe, and you keened as Peter forced himself deeper. "Yer pushin' me out, babe-lemme in, need to feel it," he moaned. "Fuck, yer so pretty; that's it, that- Fuck!"
You felt the dampness of your thighs before you could comprehend the heightened pleasure, and you glanced down to watch Peter’s lower half become soaked from your climax. "Oh-" You turned your head as much as you could to face him, eyes half lidded.
From his position behind you, Peter crashed his lips to yours and forced his tongue into your mouth, fucking it languidly while his hips stuttered in their rhythm. You panted as he pulled back, his breath fanning over your spit-slick lips.
"I need ter cum, baby-" he pleaded, thrusting deeper.
"Please, please-lemme cum in-"
"Yes," you rasped, nodding. “Please- i need you to cum in me so bad-”
Peter groaned and shuddered. He lowered his head to your shoulder and rested his forehead on vour collarbone. You could hear him panting over the slapping of skin and slick noises of his cock in your cunt, and you matched his thrusts in an attempt to bring him closer to the edge.
"Oh, fuck," he rasped. Each thrust sent a shock of pleasure curling up your spine, but you brushed it off, intent on making Peter cum - you squeezed around him and circled your hips. The whimpery noises he makes only make you clench harder, wrapping him in a vice you never want to let go of.
Suddenly, the hot spray of water turns cold and you gasp, arching your back and clamping yourself down on Peter’s cock with all the strength you could muster, tipping him over the edge.
“I-ngh.. Shit!” Peter panted and his hips faltered, a warmth soon blooming in your cunt, filling you up to the brim and leaking out of your quivering body.
The slow, rocking rhythm Peter set with his hips soothed you, bringing you slowly down from your high while he descended from his. "Fuckin' hell, babe," he murmured, and he kissed you on the lips, then the forehead.
The room is full of the scent of arousal, and it makes you feel high up in the clouds, filling your head with the syrupy-sweet fuzziness of speedy contentment.
You must have zoned out for a little bit, because the next thing you’re aware of is the sound of the shower being turned off, and strong yet shaking arms scooping you up off your feet. You were deposited outside the walls of the shower, and then a soft towel is being worked around your body, collecting the droplets of water falling off your hair and frame.
"Let's get yer warmed up, babe."
Before long, you’re bundled up in a bathrobe, hair perfectly brushed out, and being placed gently onto the couch you had been making out with Peter on not too long ago. The volume of the TV had been lowered, allowing you to hear Peter's soft mumblings of praise in your hair as he lays below you, arms cradling you to his chest. His sweatpants feel comfy against your bare legs, and your palms rest on the cotton of his white t-shirt he had changed into.
“Can we watch The Empire Strikes Back?” Peter murmurs into your hair, making you grin as it takes you back to the day you met him in the auditorium. Humming contently, you fish your hand down the side of the sofa in search of the tv remote. You furrow your brows however as you feel something rather furry brush against your fingertips.
Pinching it between your two fingers you pluck it out of the couch, inspecting the small… seed?
Peter’s eyes follow your gaze as he gasps softly in remembrance, craning his head to the side to see an abundance of dandelion seeds littering the couch. Peter frowned. He had forgotten about the strange flower he had plucked due to the abrupt slab of concrete disrupting his day. The seedlings must have fallen out of his uniform when you were tending to his wounds.
“Shit! That was meant ter be a surprise, babe.” Peter frowned sulkily, plucking the puffball from your fingertips. “I found these weird lookin’ flowers on the mission and wanted to show them to yer. Thought i discovered a new species er somethin’.”
Despite your heart warming at the kind yet failed gesture, you laughed. “Peter, honey, they’re dandelions. Weeds.” You grinned, watching as his mouth forms an ‘o’ in realization.
“But.. at least they’re rare, right?”
You thin your lips out into a line whilst shaking your head, trying not to laugh as the speedster groans, throwing his head back.
“Ugh, I could’ve totally avoided that wall if it weren’t fer these fuckin’ things,” Peter drops the dandelion seed, letting it float to the polished wooden floor. “All that fer nothin’!”
You snuggle further against him, grazing around his bandages with a confused expression. “I do appreciate the gesture, but I thought you got these from the fight? Not from.. A wall?” You appear more perplexed as you try to imagine the scenario. “Did you.. run into it or somethin’?”
Peter sighed. Another point to add too his ‘you royally suck, dude!’ tally chart. How many times had he embarrassed himself before you now, five?
“No, it-” He grimaced “-it slammed into me.” He watched as you squinted your eyes, picturing how it went down. “Don’t fret though, babe, I totally showed it who’s boss. Knocked some sense into it.” He grinned, stroking your drying hair.
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” You grin, tracing further down the trail of wounds and scratches. “Seems like it knocked more sense into you, though.”
Peter scoffed, waving his hand in dismissal before looking down at you, smiling lopsidedly. “Do I get a lolly fer bein’ so brave, doc?”
He smirks at your flushed expression and you still for a moment, before reaching into your bathrobe pocket and pulling out the panties you had strewn across the bathroom earlier. Peter's eyes widen.
“Here, take these.” You say simply, lazily dropping the material into his hand. Peter beams, face dusted pink. He’ll find some use for those, you’re sure. It won’t be a surprise if you find them framed up in his room, next to his Greta Van Fleet poster.
The next morning you change, treading down the corridor into the living room. Scott is slung across the sofa’s armrest watching the news as Jean sits on the other end by his socked feet, reading a book. Kurt and Ororo share a large armchair nearby, also watching the TV as Peter leans against a wall, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. Not like he needs it anyway.
As you walk in Peter raises his mug at you, nodding and grinning toothily as you greet him back. You silently hope he hadn’t mentioned the prior events to the others.
You ask Scott to turn the volume up and he groans tardily, reaching down the back of the sofa to fish for the remote. You go into shock, however, when he furrows his brows, pulling out a lacy pair of underwear instead. Your underwear.
Scott holds them up in the air with his index finger and thumb, flushing wildly and looking around the room in search of answers. Jean lowers her book, giving you a disapproved stare before continuing her new read of the day. Ororo squeals in laughter and Kurt goes a deep shade of bluey purple, his gaze anywhere but your panties.
“Well, what do we have here?” You could hear the smugness through Scott’s voice as you look wildly across the room to Peter. He only hums, as if in question, no doubt reminiscing on the memories of last night as he sips his coffee, pleased.
You meet his eyes, desperately searching for something to say as he winks at you, strolling up behind the couch to inspect your underwear like he didn’t know whose they were.
Sighing in relief, you thought you were going to get away with it, the embarrassment slowly ebbing out of your head; that was until Peter’s voice piped up.
“Babe, I swear those are your panties, right?”
Okay, maybe Peter was a little bit of a jackass.
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tainted-heartz · 1 year
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what if wally caught his s/o singing ?🤭
| this idea has been in my head for a bit plus I did a request like this but I have to do an extended version... someone else also requested this so I hope you enjoy! |
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- it was a fairly quiet day in wally's home. you had been cleaning while he was painting in the room over next to the room you were cleaning , you always enjoyed coming over when wally was painting because you could just pop in and check on what he was painting.
- but you had found a old lovers rock record in wally's pile of records and played it on his rainbow patterned record player. before you knew it you were singing along to the lyrics as you picked up canvases wally had scattered and placed them upright.
- little did you know wally was standing there , staring at you with a loving look in his eyes before speaking up. “ that's ‘ everybody loves somebody ’ by dean martin. I'm glad you like it almost as much as me. ” he said with a laugh once you jumped at hearing his voice.
- “ you sounded very nice singing , dearest. ” he said as he walked over and suddenly grabbed your hands. “ wally i- ” you were cut off by him leading you into a small dance session as the music played in the background. it was always a bit hard to dance or even slow dance with him but you've learned ways to make it easier.
- you giggled as you looked away from wally. “ my god you're such a lover boy. trying to slow dance with me every chance you get. ” “ is it a crime to be close with the one I'm hopelessly devoted to now? ” wally asked as he dipped you just to give you a gentle kiss on the lips before laughing along with you. “ I just love being close to you and hearing your voice. it shouldn't be a crime. ”
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vorsdany · 10 months
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ᴀ ᴠᴇxᴀᴛɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ
Wednesday Addams x necromancer!reader
Words : 1.4k+
Summary : You convinced Wednesday to a date, but being a genius, you fell asleep halfway through.
could be part of this fic -> ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ
Warning (s) : autopsy, nothing makes sense, bad writing, possibly incorrect use of medical terms.
requested by @mikavlcs mwah <3
MY MASTERLIST
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∵※∵
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
The atrocity of it all was baffling – you recalled the short outbursts of faint Enid would experience whenever Wednesday was feeling particularly.. barbaric, vicious, insane; the werewolf could come up with many more words for it, and you’d nod your head along, feeling sympathetic towards the evident suffering she was under. She even looked a little green when you told her your idea of a ‘date’.
You weren’t nervous, of course you weren’t. Operating on a patient wasn’t anything new – most of them hadn’t been alive, and though they weren’t exactly something you’d get excited for, you knew someone who would look forward to spending her time cutting open a corpse.
Giving the table a quick glance, hesitating upon the extent you’d gone through laid on it – scalpels, several surgery tools, sanitized bags, many others Enid didn’t bother looking at long enough to name them. She’d resigned after only ten minutes of explicit description of the activities you’d list out and almost made a run for the door, “You know what? You’re right, Wednesday would definitely love it. Just, please don’t discuss it with me.”
Now, the only problem is how to actually get said person to agree to your plan.
Wednesday Addams didn’t just spare her time for anyone, even if it was for her necromancer partner – one would feel insulted by the amount of attention she’d grant you, though you must admit it was equivalent to the time of day she was getting from you. It wasn’t unjust; you’d spent day and nights around one another, solving her mystery, conversing with the dead, writing her novels, causing trouble with the ghosts – only, Wednesday hadn’t felt the lack of dates to be an issue.
“I find them to be unproductive. Why do something else when we could finish this project now?”
“They are practically a series of unappealing activities. We shouldn’t waste a potential by sipping coffee and watching people.”
Safe to say, she’d done some in dimming your spirits – and you hadn’t been bothered by her refusal, after all, there were reasons you were partners. It wasn’t a core essential in your relationship; that was, until Enid skipped three study sessions for a date, a trip to weathervane with said date, and another date. She’d returned all rainbows and sunshine, bouncing on her feet and a million stories to tear Wednesday’s ears off.
It was the only reason she’d agreed to your gathering; it only consisted of two people, but Wednesday knew you were vigorously avoiding the word ‘date’ after plenty of her declination upon hearing any ideas you might come up with. She’d assumed you’d felt the same, thought the same – though, a little getaway wouldn’t be so bad, not that she’d ever admit it now, for it would imply her tolerance toward couple activities and nothing had ever rang so untrue than that.
“You know this is illegal?” Wednesday questioned the dingy cubicle you’d manage to squeeze everything in, seeing you almost crumble under her scrutinizing gaze until you remembered the corpse laying on a table in the far corner. Apparently, meeting the dead on a daily basis didn’t guarantee being immune to Wednesday’s signature deathly glare.
You cleared your throat and flashed her the best smile show off, poking her in the cheek before walking backwards while keeping your eyes to her. “Only if we get caught.”
If the fact that you’d stolen a whole body and sneaked it into this room wasn’t a thrilling discovery, Wednesday was thoroughly impressed with the condition of the patient – it looked oddly fresh; he must’ve only died less than twelve hours before, with what seemed like an unknown cause of death.
“He was homeless. People don’t really pay to find out their problems, especially if they’re dead.” So you did steal this body, and talked to the man in the body – Wednesday hadn’t known what to make of it. Were you nice? Undoubtedly. Smart? Questionably. Who in their right minds would converse with the ghost of the person you were stealing the body of and planning to operate on without consent?
Perhaps it was with consent. Her head pounded the longer she tried to make sense of it. Only you would get an illegal autopsy going more legally than she could ever manage to.
With the body placed on the surgical table, you’d taken a seat opposite Wednesday as she started digging into flesh and taking out organs, examining thoroughly as if she was a forensic scientist herself and you were – her assistant, one that does nothing but admire her flow of purposefulness, missing just a few key points to her examination that you were supposed to write down.
“Hematoma in the lungs.”
“Edema, right chest and abdominal wall.”
“Collapsed inferior vena cava.”
You’d stopped listening comprehensively after the tenth report, jotting down only the last of the sentences you barely caught as your attention was solely planted on the ravenette instead of – what were you meant to do again?
The yellow, definitely unsuitable light was hitting all on the right places; her onyx eyes was even more sharp even in the dead of night, her cheeks softer and the crease in between her brows more prominent – you weren’t sure that it was lightning the body at all, for all you could see was her profile reflecting your swooning heart. You could imagine the disgusted scrunch of her nose if she was to ever hear that sentence.
Ironically, it was also the last thing you saw as she pulled out a heavily tied intestines before sleep consumed you, and Wednesday was left identifying medical terms to – well, no one. Time went by faster when one was enjoying themselves; before you knew it, Wednesday was wrapping up and you were still deep in sleep, soft snores leaving your parted lips as her eyes trailed your closed eyes, momentarily considering leaving you in the cold before grasping the fact that she didn’t have the heart to do so.
Perhaps her brain had made up for the lack thereof.
The autopsy was a complete mess. She wasn’t able to find the true cause of death – you were supposed to take notes as she dug through, so she’d be able to analyze them later through textbooks and her own knowledge – when Wednesday found you snoozing away, a disappointment coursed through her, along with a different sort of affection sizzling in her stomach.
Wednesday was not pleased, to say the least, though she did bag some precious items; the slightly stained liver, a piece of the bone marrow, a sample of his brain, a fragment of his lungs.
Heavy patters of rain resonated from outside, signaling the storm hitting just as she intended to leave – the universe had ways to wreck her plan into shambles; only, you hadn’t awoken from the noise that should’ve rattled your dreams away. Wednesday reached out, pulled back her hand and hesitated, distressed at the options of calling out your name or initiating contact.
She’d touched you, of course, on your cheeks, and hips, most times unconsciously, as if her body was on autopilot and to touch you was the default settings – on a much rarer times, she’d hold your hand under the table, let you link arms as you circled the school and rest your head on her shoulder after an exhausting session with the dead. Still, the notion of making the decision to wrap her arms around you was enough to make her nauseous; only, it didn’t bring dread and block her airways like she’d imagined.
Just a really strange fluttering in her stomach that triggered her gag response.
Wednesday pitied you; escaping death itself just to be in the company of death personified. You’d laughed heartily, claimed that it was your best friend, and she was more than that. She’d felt heat creep up her neck, and would never admit the way your statement made her blush and kept her up at night.
It was then that she noticed the big, capitalized letters on top of the paper you were writing on, NSTI, a circle and several doodles lining the sides as if mocking her. Necrotizing soft tissue infection – Wednesday should’ve known better; all this time you’ve known, and left her in the dark to enjoy the thrill of it for herself.
What a vexatious creature.
Wednesday deemed you forgiven then, when the air turned chill and the roar of storms accompanied the grueling atmosphere about her.
Autopsy wasn’t the only thing she could spend her free time executing, as she came to realize that doodling – drawing, sketching the edges of your figure was quite pleasant, too.
This.. not-date was not a complete failure, after all.
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vitaminseetarot · 10 days
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March Palette Game: CLOSED 🌈
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Somewhere, over the rainbow...
I felt inspired to do a game based on my huge stack of palette cards. I have 700+ palette cards to shuffle through, multiple stacks that take an hour to shuffle at least lol. I remove any duplicates, so 99% of these cards are different, which leaves much room for exploration.
All participants for this game will receive one palette card which will be read like an aura. What is your current energy? What kind of aura are you radiating? I will not reuse cards, so everyone will have a chance to get a unique card drawn! I will also pull one tarot card from the Spectrowhirl deck to give you additional insight as to why your palette card was selected along with additional guidance if needed. Images will be provided.
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RULES to Play:
☼ 1 Follow this blog if you're not already a follower: VitaminSeeTarot
☼ 2 Reblog this post with the tag #vitaminseetarotgame
☼ 3 Send me an Ask (not DM) along w/ two different signature emojis of your choice 🌈🎨
☼ 4 Asks will be accepted starting 3/18, deadline is 3/21 @ 5pm EST. Be sure to check the open/closed status before submitting. Asks submitted before 3/21 may receive their reading after the deadline has passed. Asks submitted after the deadline will not. Make sure to submit your Ask before the deadline if you want to participate.
☼ 5 Please be kind & patient while I finish your reading, as I don't know how many will play.
☼ 6 This game is for your specific energy/aura reading only. I will not do palette card readings for your friends, family, or other people in your life. I will not do readings for celebrities, events, or situations here.
☼ 7 Remember that energy is always changing and your aura reading is not meant to be interpreted as a permanent, fixed state. Free will is yours.
☼ 8 I reserve the right to refuse a reading for any reason (I may refuse only because certain guidelines weren't met. You are free to resubmit your Ask before the deadline, provided the above guidelines are followed).
☼ 9 You must agree to the above rules before playing.
☼ 10 If you would like to leave a tip, you can do so on my Ko-Fi page. Check back to my page soon if you're interested in paid readings as I will be opening up for personal sessions very shortly.
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Thank you for your donations, likes, reblogs, feedback, and follows. Thank you for your support! 🙂
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This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.
2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™
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sturnioloshacker · 4 months
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a secret sturniolo flirtation - a chris sturniolo short
a/n: requested by @iheartchrissturniolo; lowercase intended 
cw: implied smut but not in full detail
summary: the exchange student has a flirty encounter with a certain flirty triplet 
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stepping onto boston soil, y/n approaches the exit gate to begin her life-changing 6-month exchange year from australia. little did she know that fate had its share of surprises awaiting her. the first surprise was finding out that her host family is none other than the sturniolo family - marylou, jimmy, their eldest son justin and the triplets nick, matt and chris - who all welcomed her with open arms. 
with the christmas holiday season fast approaching, the sturniolo household buzzed with festive energy from top to bottom. the house was fully decorated with tinsel, twinkling lights that shone bright like a rainbow, stockings over the fireplace and a huge christmas tree in the corner of the living room. almost every night was spent as a family sitting nice and close to each other on the couches as they watched a christmas movie and sipped on hot cups of cocoa. the pure warmth and love of them bonding with each other enveloped y/n, as she created many more new memories that she’ll cherish forever. 
however, amidst the chaos that came with the christmas holidays, a subtle yet romantic connection blossomed between y/n and the youngest triplet, chris. their eyes would always manage to meet from across the room and they would exchange secret smiles and glances all day, every day. playful yet flirty banter became their language, making sure that they’re hidden from the watchful eyes of his two older brothers. each stolen glance, each cheesy grin and each secret cuddle and kiss on the cheek at night fuelled the spark between them.
on a particular snowy night, while the family gathered for another christmas movie, y/n and her newfound lover chris found themselves walking along the quiet streets of boston, taking in the beautiful white scenery all around them. snowflakes fell from the sky as they walked hand in hand, their cheeks rosy from the cold but also from the warmth they’re emitting by being so close to one another. as the days unfolded, the flirty moments between the pair become more apparent, causing some subtle teasing from nick and matt. yet, beneath all the banter and teasing, there was an unspoken connection. something beautiful was brewing between the two, neither of them had any idea what was coming for them. 
as the clock struck midnight on new year’s eve, fireworks were not only set off in the night sky but also in the bellies of y/n and chris, who shared such a sweet and intimate moment amongst family and friends. through the kiss, their feelings for one another had been confessed and the night turned into an even bigger celebration. everyone may had gone to bed at 2am, but the two lovebirds were only just getting started. soft, sweet gentle kisses turned into ravishing heated makeout sessions, delicate hands in each other’s hair turned into rough caresses all over their bodies and cute giggles turned into seductive moans and whimpers. all in all, it was one of the best new year’s eve parties both have ever had. 
after 6 months, it was time for y/n to leave. tears were shed, hugs were exchanged and a loving kiss was shared between the now long-distance lovers. they may be long-distance, but that didn’t stop the pair from flying between the us and australia during the holidays. it also didn’t stop them from falling deeper in love and harder in love. In the end, a final decision was made between the pair. after a couple of months of booking flights and finding a suitable job, y/n finally moved in with the sturniolo triplets at their home in los angeles. what was supposed to be 6-months has now turned into forever, and that’s just perfect for y/n m/n l/n and christopher owen sturniolo. 
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ghoularaki · 1 month
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baby's breath | 2
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↠  summary: Merely by coincidence, Erwin, your father's former friend had crossed paths with you again after nearly a decade. He offered solace once finding out you were struggling with not just school, but your home life as well. His home he shared with another one of your father's friends, Levi, became a sanctuary. Though, the more you came over for study sessions, the more they wiggled themselves into your private life. And like baby's breath, they weeded themselves in so deep you couldn't uproot them.
↠ word count: 4,395
↠ pairing: levi ackerman x reader x erwin smith
↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, modern au, DARK CONTENT, yandere, noncon/dubcon, daddy kink, forced infantilism, pet play, age gap, death threats, human trafficking, bdsm
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An overwhelming urge to vomit awoke you. Pain shot from behind your eyes and encompassed your head. Pressure built up like someone was crushing your skull between their palms. Clenching your eyes, you attempted to blink the hurt away. Light streamed in from the blinds, tinted pink from the curtains. 
Your brows furrowed as you tried to whisk away the blurriness clouding your vision. As the kaleidoscope room morphed into one, you were more perplexed. You were placed on the floor that was a soft carpet under your fingers. The appendages went to dig your nails into the wool only to be met with resistance.
You couldn’t move.
Not even an inch. You were completely paralyzed besides your eyes. Tears clouded your vision more as panic built up in your chest. With every bit of will power, you forced your mouth open to scream, but a mere squeak came out. Breathing heavily, your eyes bounced around what you could. The more your brain cleared, the more you realized, you had no clue where you were. 
The room was that of a little girl’s. Wallpaper decorated with butterflies ranging the rainbow with a light pink background spanned the whole room. There was a bureau—a light colored wood—with trinkets of fairies and bunnies on top of it. You gained a little more mobility in your neck to turn deeper in the room to see a crate built for a great dane with a bed inside along with a multitude of stuffed animals. A blushing canopy hung over the crate along with twinkling fairy lights. 
Peering upwards, you see an open closet filled with frilly clothes of whites, pinks, purples and baby blues. The most jarring part was the leashes and collars lining the inside of the door. As you gained a little more mobility and feeling, you realized you weren’t in the same clothes as before. Down to the underwear and lack of a bra. A sob broke out from your chest. 
Attempting to still your breathing, you shakingly inhale and exhale to gain some clarity. Closing your eyes, you focused on your whole body. Envisioning your own nervous system, you willed at least your fingers to move. Nostrils flared, you were able to get your toes to wiggle with great concentration. The headache was worsening.  
A door creaking open pulled you away from your stupor. Instinctively, you turned your head towards the door to see the very door Erwin kept you from. Within the frame stood Levi. From your place on the ground, the man towered over you, peering down at you from his nose. 
Fear clutched and squeezed your esophagus as you attempted to wiggle away. You barely moved a centimeter as Levi gracefully walked to you. Unable to look away, you kept eye contact as he crouched down, hovering over you. A whimper crept up your throat.
He tilted his head at your pathetic form, drinking it up. Levi brought a hand to your face to clutch your cheeks, squishing them in between his calloused finger pads. He turned your face left to right, inspecting it. 
“The toxin should wear off in a couple hours.”
You could only whine in response, not able to move your jaw up and down just yet. The way he was clutching your mandible was no help either. 
Delirious and terrified, what happened before you passed out came rushing back tenfold. Your eyes scanned the room again for a hint of where your old clothes were in hopes to find your phone. As if reading your mind, Levi drops your face to reach into his back pocket. You flinch considering last time he reached behind him, he jabbed you in the neck with a syringe. 
In his hand was your phone. Your fingers twitched, begging to snatch it from his grip. He dangled it in front of your face, taunting you. “Looking for this?”
You softly nod your head, eyebrows pinched. His hands grip both ends and snap it in half like flimsy wood. The audible crack haunted your ears. Tiny glass shards crumbled into the carpet while Levi dropped the broken phone. Your chances of escaping were depleting rapidly. 
He goes to stroke your hair as you sobbed, scared of what was going to happen to you. Were they going to kill you? 
“Don’t worry your daddy will be home soon.”
The words offered no solace and only confused you more. You prayed he didn’t mean Erwin. Your chest heaved more as you grew more hysterical. This can’t be happening. You wanted to go home.
“Hey brat, you need to calm down,” His words were cold and apathetic.
You only cried more as your fingers dug into the rug and your feet barely kicked. You needed to get up. You had to run, escape, scream, do something. If you didn’t, they were going to kill you and no one would find your body. No one would care anyway. You would be just another missing person case filed away in a cold, metal cabinet serving as your casket. 
At this point, you were hyperventilating. Your body had gone into full blown panic mode and even Levi lightly slapping your face did little to pull you out. You didn’t want to die. There was so much more you wanted to do in life. 
You choked on your own tears as warm liquid spilled from your crotch and pooled around your bum. How pathetic were you to piss yourself out of fear? Your body begged to curl into the fetal position and wallow in self pity, but whatever Levi injected you with wouldn’t leave for a while. 
“What is going on?” A new voice sliced through your cries. 
Erwin stepped into the room along with Levi. The short man’s knees cracked as he nimbly stood back at his full height. Both men swallowed you whole as you laid in your own filth. 
“She started to lose her shit.”
He nodded and his blue eyes spied the darkened spot on your skirt and on the carpet. “This is the exact reason I said to lay down the puppy pads,” Erwin scolded Levi.
Puppy pads?
“I didn’t know she was going to piss herself like a shitty toddler.”
Levi really did know how to rub salt further into the wound. You were embarrassed enough as is, his degrading words offered no solace. The smell of ammonia permeated in the air.
“I will take her to get cleaned up, I can tell you’re already itching to bleach the carpet.”
Levi clicked his tongue at that, but didn’t refute his command. As Levi walked out the room to get his supplies, Erwin crouched down beside you. Gently, he tucked one arm under your back and the other under your knees. He pulled your weight up with ease. 
With you cradled close to his chest, he walked out the door and down a familiar hallway. You attempted to struggle, but he squeezed you tighter. Your breath got caught in your throat from his rope-like arms. The drugs were heavy in your system so all you could really do was lightly kick your feet. Even that had you out of breath. At the far end, on the right, Erwin nudged the door with his toe and went through to the bathroom. He set you down on the counter.
The lights above you hissed and hummed while they stung your eyes. In the other room, it was illuminated by a soft, orangey glow while the ones in the bathroom were a harsh almost blue tinge. From the hallway, the smell of bleach wafting in made your nose crinkle. Levi wasted no time. 
Seeing your pinched face, Erwin departed from you and closed the door, locking it as well. Panic built up again. The older man filled up the room, swallowing you whole. There wasn’t much you could do as you had to be leaned up against the wall like a doll. Lifeless and frail. The most strength was in your legs, you could feel how the muscle begged to move. 
Like a magnet, his body gravitated towards yours once more. Lacking any politeness, Erwin started immediately stripping you. His fingers hooked around the babydoll dress you were forced into while sleeping. Latched onto the hem he tugged it up until it reached under your armpits. 
“S-stop,” You gained your voice. It was meant to be a scream, but what came out was a pathetic whimper. 
He ignored you as he gripped your arm to slide it out one sleeve and the same with the other. His hand went to the middle of your shoulder blades to sit you up for a moment to pull the clothing over your head. Neatly he folded the dress back up and set it on the other counter next to the sink. Oh how your arms screamed to hide your exposed breasts. 
“Don’t t-touch me,” The command was futile, but you refused to let him think you were going to take this lying down. 
The man let out a dismissive hum and moved to the bathtub, twisting the knobs. His hand went under the water to find the perfect temperature. Satisfied, he plugged the drain up. Erwin went into the cabinet parallel to you and grabbed a clear, honey-tinted bottle. It was baby soap. What he grabbed was soap made for infants. Your fists balled up. Despair filled you like how the water morphed into the shape of the tub.
What the fuck is going on?
Squirting some of the liquid soap into the tub, you watched as the bubbles boiled up. A soft, clean scent encompassed the room. The smell filled your head of childhood memories long forgotten of sharing baths with your cousins. If you thought hard enough the smell of washable crayons would soon follow. But you weren’t in the safety of your aunt’s home, you were locked in a house with two men with strange, perplexing intentions. 
He put the bottle back and turned to you. Trembling, you knew what was about to happen. Erwin slotted himself between your parted legs. A little more bold, he placed his large palms on your knees. Your thighs quivered as his fingers danced up the skin towards your last bit of protection. 
You could do it, Your tendons told you, Don’t let this fucker think you’re weak.
Just as his fingers wrapped around the band of your underwear, you reared your knee back and shot the heel of your foot straight into his nose. 
“Fuck!” He grunted as blood poured out.
Some of the red splashed onto your shin and onto the white tiles. Your shoulders bounced as you laughed at his misery. The toxin heavy in your system was making you delirious. 
Erwin clutched his nose as he shoved a finger in your face, "We don't do that."
His condescending tone tempted you to kick him again. He muttered under his breath as he went into the cabinet to grab a hand towel to wipe off the blood. Unfortunately, you didn’t break his nose and the blood stopped after the initial blow. Throwing the towel down onto the counter, he tugged your underwear off with fervor. Barely contained aggressiveness caused his forearms to quake. 
"You're lucky I don't call Levi in. He won't be as tolerant as me."
He picked you back up and you attempted to wiggle, but the kick had left you limp. Erwin shoved you into the bathtub, the warm water embracing you. Despite the exhaustion gripping your bones, you go to hit him in the face again. More sluggish and Erwin expecting it this time, he gripped your ankle and tugged. 
You yelped as your body slid down and collapsed into the bubbly solution. Water squirmed into whatever orifice it could. Choking on the soapy liquid, you panicked as it shot up into your nose and lungs. Your arms were no better than cooked noodles so there was no way to pull yourself back up. You were drowning. 
Erwin gripped your upper arm and hauled you out of the water. You sputtered as you came back up. Coughing roughly, you threw back up all the liquid flooding your system. Your eyes stung and were bloodshot. As you hiccuped, you glared up at Erwin from under your furrowed brow. 
He clutched your cheeks and leaned himself over the rim, “Don’t make this anymore unpleasant for the both of us.”
Knowing it was a losing battle, you nodded your head. You couldn’t fight anymore, not until the drugs wore off. You had to be smart about this.
Erwin petted your wet hair and maneuvered your body into a more comfortable position. He took a washcloth and dipped into the soapy water and started to clean you. His movements were purely clinical and didn’t linger anywhere unwanted. Your teeth almost cracked from your tensed jaw as he dragged the cloth across your inner thighs and your pussy.  
The knob jiggled open. From the doorway, Levi made his way into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. In his hand was a key he shoved deep in his pockets. Your eyes drank up the information, filing it away for later. 
Erwin turned to Levi and the shorter man’s permanent scowl deepened. His light feet crossed over to his friend and bent down to examine the darkening bruise on his nose. 
“What happened,” It was meant to be a question, but he phrased it like a statement. 
Erwin shook him off. Levi was having none of it and gripped his face. His grey eyes pierced into Erwin’s, likened to how a stormy sky meets a calm sea. 
“We had an accident. Don’t be too concerned over it.”
Levi sent one last glare at him, nodded his head and extracted himself from the taller man. You drank up the whole interaction, nitpicking their whole relationship and how to abuse it for later. Back to his full height, Levi looked at your limp form. Luckily, besides your collarbones, everything was shielded by the extensive bubbles. 
“How is she holding up?”
Erwin’s shoulders tensed a little before relaxing and going back to stroking the cloth over your skin. He was scrubbing the same spot on your thigh over and over again. If he kept going, the skin would be rubbed raw. 
“I haven’t said anything yet.”
You despised how they talked like you weren’t in the room with them. Erwin gripped your right arm and lifted it out of the water to now clean that area. You shivered as you were exposed more to the cold air. 
Levi sighed, agitated. “Well you better because if I do she might just piss herself again.”
“Fuck you,” You seethed.
Erwin shushed you, “The adults are talking.” 
“Are you fucking-” Levi stomped over to the rim of the bathtub and shoved his fingers deep into your mouth. You choked on the makeshift gag, your esophagus spasming around the appendages. 
“Watch your tone.”
Your feet weakly kicked as you continuously swallowed around his fingers. You were tempted to bite down, but how Levi glared down at you, you kept your teeth to yourself. 
“Am I understood?” Whines tickled your throat as you stared up at him with teary eyes. He shoved his fingers deeper. “I said, am I understood?”
You rapidly nodded your head as much as you could and tumbled out, “Yeth, Thevi.” 
He ripped his fingers away and rubbed your spit on your face. “Filthy brat.” 
“There is no need to be so rough.”
“Apparently I do. Come, you can explain to her over dinner.” And with that, Levi walked out the bathroom, leaving you alone with Erwin once more. 
How was it dinner time already? What time is it? How long had you been knocked out for? The questions swirled and swarmed your head. 
Heeding Levi’s words, Erwin switched the flip to drain the bath. You watched as the tiny hole swallowed the water along with the bubbles, sucking it up with an audible, clanky slurp. The tall man came back with lilac hued towels splattered with woven butterflies. He helped you up once more and patted you down dry. Next came a pair of pajamas, a silky pink. The panties were a soft cotton with a white bow in the center. It angered you how cute they were. He slid them up and patted your hips when the band rested comfortably. 
Efficiently dressed, Erwin picked you up but this time like how you would a child. He rested your weight on his hip and a firm forearm under your bum. His other hand cradled the back of your neck so your head sat on his shoulder. You put no effort into helping him carry you, having your arms hang by your sides.
Erwin carried you out of the bathroom and down the hall until you reached where the living room was. Turning right, he went into the dining room adjacent to the kitchen. You noticed there was a metal plate on the floor that wasn’t there last time. Welded into the sleek steel was a small arch. The plate sat under the kitchen table. A bad, foreboding feeling sat in your stomach. 
At the kitchen table were three plates of food, but only two chairs. Levi was already situated at the head of the table, waiting for the both of you. Your laptop also sat on the table. Erwin walked to his chair to the right of Levi with you in tow. 
No wonder there was no third chair as Erwin sat you on his lap. He twisted your body so your back leaned against his chest. Oh, how you wanted to struggle, but decided against it as your butt was mere centimeters from his crotch. 
You stared at the delicious smelling food in front of you. Was there anything Levi wasn’t good at? 
“Eat,” Levi commanded before taking a bite of his own.
“I’m not a dog,” You snided.
“Could have fooled me with all your shitty yapping. Eat.”
You looked down in shame. You had barely gained any mobility in your arms. Sure you could flex your fingers, but you had no idea if you could bring the fork to your mouth. 
Sensing your troubled thoughts, Erwin turned you so you sat sideways. He took your fork, dipped into the food and brought it to your lips.
“Open.”
Already learning your lesson from Levi shoving his fingers down your throat, you clamped your mouth shut and glowered at him. 
Fatigued from your constant refusal, Erwin raked his fingers through your hair and yanked backwards. Stinging pain coursed through your taunt follicles as he shoved the fork into your mouth. He placed the fork back down and slapped his palm over your mouth. His whole hand encased your lower face. Unable to spit the food out or bite him, you chewed and swallowed. 
“Good girl,” He cooed. 
You were going to vomit, hopefully on him. 
Levi was a spectator to how Erwin repeated the process over and over until you were done with your food. His own plate was left untouched. The tall man took joy in babying you. 
Erwin grabbed a napkin and wiped away the nonexistent traces of you eating from your face. He was delicate like he was handling a porcelain doll. The way his eyes never strayed had your back tingle. His stare was almost uncanny. Deep, deep blue threatened to gobble you whole. 
“You’re going to drop out,” Levi cut in. 
“What? No.”
“I don’t remember asking,” He grabbed the laptop forgotten in the middle of the table. His nimble fingers rubbed against the mousepad. The laptop illuminated his face with a soft white. He clicked a few buttons and then turned it back around to you. Displayed on the screen was the form to dropout. 
“People will grow suspicious if I randomly drop out,” You tried to reason.
“We already know you are barely passing all your classes. No one would care or think twice.”
Your eyes caught onto the weather app at the bottom of the screen. The laptop was tracing the location, it must be. 
“They will be able to find me.”
“With the laptop? We already have that sorted, don’t get your hopes up.”
A tight ache settled in your chest. You were so confused why they were doing this to you. The life Erwin helped you build back up he was tearing right from under you.
“Why?” You begged. 
Erwin shifted you higher on his lap, cradling you as you started to cry again. “Because you can’t take care of yourself.”
“That’s not true.”
“Hush, Daddy will take care of everything.”
Cold washed over you. What did he just say?
“Erwin,” Levi bit, exasperation on his face.
“She was going to figure it out sooner or later.”
Anger started to swell in the air. Panic built further in your ribcage as you were left even more confused. Why did Erwin call himself such a crude name? 
“That’s enough for tonight. Finish the form and we can head to bed.”
Levi got up from his seat and walked over to you. This time he was the one to lift you. He showed no signs of struggle as he left Erwin to fill out the paperwork. When he walked back to the bathroom, alarm bells rang in your head. You refused to be put in such a vulnerable position again. 
“No.”
“Quiet.”
The door was left open from before and he set you down on the counter. He opened the cabinet mirror and pulled out a new tube of toothpaste. It was strawberry flavored with childish, cartoon berries decorating the aluminum. Plastic clinked against porcelain as he took a pink toothbrush from the stand with two other ones. One was green and the other blue. 
Levi squirted the paste onto the bristles and ran it under the water for a couple seconds. He tapped the brush against the sink. His hand tugged your legs apart and made a home between them. Cupping your jaw, he brought the toothbrush up.
“Open.”
A very, very stupid thought crossed your mind. What if you bit him hard enough to draw blood? He would have to visit a doctor if you did otherwise he could get sick from an infection. How would he explain an adult human bite without raising suspicions? He couldn’t. 
Open your mouth you did. As he brought the brush to scrub your teeth, you tilted your head and latched onto the meat of his hand. On the side of his hand where his pinky is, you bit down so hard your teeth scraped against bone. 
“Shit!” He grunted out. 
He was able to rip his hand from your grasp and hit your face so hard you collapsed hard into the sink. 
“You fucking bitch,” Levi seethed as he shook out his hand.
You smiled up at him with bloody teeth, “You should get that checked out by a professional. I heard human bites are worse than a dog's if left unchecked."
“You’re fucking done for, Mutt.”
With his uninjured hand he ripped you from the counter and clamped down on the back of your shirt. Your legs still like jelly so you had to half crawl to keep up with his pace. He dragged you back to the bedroom by the collar like a misbehaving puppy. 
By now, Erwin had heard the commotion. His heavy steps marched over. Levi threw you into the room you first awoke in. He muttered under his breath as he ripped different restraints from the closet. Blood ran down his forearm and onto the carpet. 
“What is going on?” Erwin’s voice thundered.
“Your little princess bit me.”
Erwin turned his attention to you, sat in the middle of the room, red coated your chin and lips. You smiled up at him, too, no remorse in your stance. Your posture screamed you weren’t going to make this easy for them.
Metal clicking together brought your attention to Levi who came over with various black leather restraints. He also had a pink bone gag. 
“Hold her mouth open. I don’t want to be bit, again,” Levi scowled.
Erwin walked to stand behind you. His hand cupped your forehead and slammed your skull into his upper thigh. His other hand pinched your cheeks so hard you had to unhinge your jaw. Levi shoved the gag into your mouth and you sputtered at the taste of oddly sweet plastic on your tongue. 
The shorter man’s crotch was right in your view as he went around to secure the belt loops. If Erwin wasn’t holding you down, you would have headbutted him. Your jaw creaked at being forced open. 
Levi stood back up. Erwin let go of you, but your freedom didn’t last long. A foot shoved your head down until your forehead hit the carpet. You grunted as said foot stood on your temple as you twisted your head to a more comfortable position. 
“You don’t get to complain,” Levi was furious. 
“Levi, I can handle it from here. You should get that checked out.”
There was a long pause. “Fine, just throw her in the crate. I will deal with her later.” 
“I got her handled.”
Levi clicked his tongue and let up on the pressure on your head. You collapsed further into the ground in relief. You listened as his socked feet pattered away until it was just you and Erwin. 
Erwin showed no mercy as he gripped you by the hair and forced you up. He tugged you to the crate you saw earlier. Despite the stuffed animals and pink covers, you were left unsettled by the daunting cage. You were tossed in with little care. Luckily you landed on the plushies and not the metal bars. He slammed the door closed and locked it. The same key from earlier was in his fingers. Were there multiple copies?
“I don’t want to be mean, but if you want to act like a dog then you will be treated like one.”
“You are past the point of mean, Erwin,” You glared between the bars. The words were muffled, but he got the point.
The man looked so tired, “Good night, Princess.”
With that he left the room and shut off the lights. What the fuck were you going to do now?
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maxsimagination · 2 months
Text
𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗜𝗜 - 𝗹.𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗽
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warnings: fluff, christmas fic, talk of homophobia
a/n: i do not condone homophobia in any way, shape or form, this is just an imagine and is not reality
• part 1 • part 2
-----
three months after my coming out to lauren and i'd gathered up the courage to tell the whole team. they'd been more supportive then i ever could've imagined, lauren telling me a simple 'told you so.'
it was december now which meant winter break and returning to families and home countries for the holidays. all the girls were excitedly talking about their plans to see relatives, while i was sat in the corner, quiet.
my family had inadvertently gotten the confirmation they wanted, or not, when i posted a '23 photo dump on instagram. there was a multitude of photos from throughout the year, but one in particular showed me and lauren out at breakfast with some of the team.
we were sat next to each other and had somehow gotten our hands on a rainbow flag. alanna was sitting across from us and thought it was cute to take a photo.
my ma and my sister had messaged me almost immediately after the photos were posted. i expected the harsh words from my ma but my sister had tears welling in my eyes.
not to say the message from my ma didn't hurt, but it was the onslaught from my sister that sent me over the edge. that was roughly three weeks ago and i hadn't spoken to anyone in my family since.
"y/n are you good?" lauren sidled over to where i was sat on the beanbags we had in the city common room. she joined me and sat on the one next to me.
"mhm, i'm okay."
"you going back to australia for christmas?"
i knew someone would ask me about at one point or another, but it didn't make it hurt any less.
"no, i don't have any plans. just staying in the uk, i guess."
lauren knew something must have been up, because of how normally bubbly and sweet i was. but this me was different, depressed even.
"so your not going to see your family?"
"no i haven't spoke to them in almost a month."
"oh, shit. why?"
"they shunned me after they found out i was a lesbian."
that statement shocked lauren, she'd never thought that they'd ever go that far to reject me.
"did you want to come with me? spend christmas with my family instead?"
i was flattered by the offer and everything in me wanted to agree, wanted to go and have a nice christmas with her and her family. but i didn't want to be a bother.
"it's okay, i don't want to impose. thankyou for the offer though."
"nonsense, you've already met my family and they love you. i'm pretty sure my mother likes you more than me."
there wasn't much i could say to that, let alone to refuse the offer. so i gave in and agreed to come with her to see her family for christmas. we had one last training session of the year before we were off the hook until next year.
when the time to fly down to north walsham came, i was a bundle of nerves. lauren took my hand and gave me a soothing smile, assuring me i was not a burden and it would be a pleasure to have me over. i blushed at her comforting words, butterflies erupting in my stomach.
the flight wasn't too long, only a couple of hours.
once we arrived, lauren's sister amy was there to greet us. we hugged and she led us towards her car to drive us back to their house.
"lauren sit in the back, i'm talking to y/n."
amy left lauren to hop into the back seat with a cheeky grin, lauren feigning hurt but hopping in anyway. i chuckled at the sisters' antics and climbed in the front.
we finally got to their house after a laughter-filled drive there. both kevin and julie were outside, waiting to greet us when we pulled in.
"it's so great to see you again, y/n! come in so we can catch up."
kevin was less chatty but happy to have me nonetheless, giving me a hug and pat on the back. we all traipsed inside, me and lauren putting our bags in lauren's room.
we spent some time just settling in and catching up, before lauren pointed out that there was a christmas market on in the town and we should go. i thought that was a great idea, agreeing to go down with lauren. julie and kevin said they'd stay back to cook dinner for everyone and amy also declined as she had something else to do.
it was just me and lauren that were going but i was happy with that. the two of us walked down since it wasn't that far from the house. there was fairy lights strung up all along the streets and the stalls selling various things scattered down the roads. it was so pretty i took a picture to upload to my story.
as we walked down the markets i was looking around in awe, we didn't have much like this on the town where i was from. occasionally mine and lauren's hands brushed up against each other, our pinkies intertwining.
i felt the butterflies in my stomach again and looked over to lauren to see her glancing down at our hands.
since coming out to her she'd been more openly affectionate. it was like some part of her had to be touching me, whether it was a hug or just resting her arm around my waist, she was never that far away.
i wasn't complaining, i couldn't deny that i felt something there for the blonde englishwoman but i was just to nervy to say anything.
however i was considering just asking her, telling her how i felt. the setting of the markets made it feel so romantic, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. so i waited a little, until we were stood under a piece of mistletoe while buying sugar cookies.
"loz, look up."
i spoke to her softly. she looked above us and spotted the piece of greenery. looking back at me, she grinned.
"do you want to? we don't have to."
"no i want to."
and with that she leaned forward to connect our lips in a slow kiss.
it was way better than anything i've ever felt before. her lips were soft and sweet, moving against mine. we pulled apart slightly breathless and rosy-cheeked.
"does this mean you can be my girlfriend?"
"yes lauren, i can be your girlfriend."
i laughed slightly at her way of asking but agreed nonetheless, it was a long time coming.
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