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#whoever came up with that I owe you my life
jaskierx · 1 year
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at this point my sexuality is just sad men covered in blood and women who are skilled in hand to hand combat and i blame it entirely on the fact that 12 year old me watched the music video for crossfire on repeat for about 3 months in 2010
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oh-wow-im-still-here · 3 months
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Shen Qingqiu calling Luo Binghe "silly boy" IS my kryptonite actually. Like thAT'S SOOO CUUUTE! He is the silliest boy!! *head in hands*
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dawnquafam · 3 months
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Arthur actually calling Orm Loki is the stuff that dreams are made of it will live rent free in my mind forever
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xasafi · 4 months
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Also, JEAN AND NEIL'S FRIENDSHIP! I'm so happy that Nora sees potential there because I have always loved this duo. Their dynamic as a friends, not only as reluctant allies, could be so interesting.
Hoping we will get some more crumbs of it in TSC.
Sassybaguette for the win.
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blushweddinggowns · 1 year
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It was kinda like an open secret, the fact that they were together. And if Steve was being honest with himself, even that was a stretch.
And it was one hundred percent their fault. Well...mostly it was Eddie's fault. The second they were with whoever he deemed "safe" Eddie would be all over him. Whether it was pet names, casually wrapping an arm around his waist, dragging him to sit on his lap, a kiss to his forehead, Eddie was far from shy when it came to handing out affection.
And if Steve did absolutely nothing to stop him when it happened well...that was Eddie's fault too. What else was Steve supposed to do when the man he loved was so openly sweet and affectionate? Say no? Put a stop to the behavior that made him feel like he was the most important person in Eddie's world? Give up the chaste hugs and kisses that made him feel like he was walking on air?
Yeah, no. It wasn't Steve's fault that Eddie made him feel so good, so the blame could stay laid at his feet.
Yep, totally Eddie's fault, Steve had nothing to do with it.
But there were only so many times you could call your new "best friend" baby before people started asking questions. Robin knew, Wayne knew, Nancy knew, and Steve was pretty sure all of Eddie’s age-appropriate friends were well aware.
And the kids would figure it out when they figured it out. It's not that they didn't trust them to accept their relationship, it was more that they would be too accepting. And way too involved. And Steve wanted to bask in the honeymoon period before all of his little shits started giving unprompted advice on his love life, and Eddie felt the same way.
So they lied, but only a little. Or more that Steve lied. Whenever it was a Steve and Eddie date night exclusive and the kids were vying for attention or rides, he'd tell them was hanging out with Robin or working late. But Eddie would just smile and shake his head to any asks, always with a painfully sincere, "Can't tonight, I got a date with my sweetheart."
His sweetheart who, none of the kids could meet until, in his words, he officially locked it down, the silly little speech never failing in making Steve blush and smile like an idiot. It was always enough to make the kids back off, and for the moment, their little plan seemed to be working.
But Steve wasn't sure how long it would stay that way, not when Eddie was very suddenly elected as the go-to for advice on the kids' love lives.
Which ow. Steve had experience with relationships, maybe not good experiences until very recently, but he had them! But the kids bypassed him every time in favor of the "one" adult in their lives who actually was seeing someone. And Steve didn't have the heart to break it to them that he was the only one their new love genius had ever been with.
Lucas had started it, faux casual at a Hellfire meetup, with Steve lazily reading magazines in the corner while he waited for his nerd boyfriend to be done so their night could actually begin.
"Hey Eddie, you've been seeing your girlfriend for a while right?"
Eddie nodded, "We're closing in at six months, why?"
Lucas rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, embarrassed, "Well...what would you do if say, you know they love you, and you love them, but they never let you help them with anything? Like...they always act like they're a burden when they're really just the best?"
Steve perked up at the question. silently watching as Eddie considered it.
He nodded along, thoughtful, “I was with someone like that once, always thinking about everyone else but never themselves. I guess you kinda just have to love it out of them y'know? Like give them the space they ask for sure, but let them know that you're always there for them. Not because you have to but because you want to.” 
Eddie took a chance and glanced at Steve while he spoke, giving him the quickest wink known to mankind. Steve hid behind his magazine, ears red with a stupid, lovestruck smile as Lucas thanked him.
Then it was Dustin. He sprung it on them while Steve was driving him over to the Wheeler's place, Eddie flipping through radio stations while Dustin was prattling to them in the backseat, "So I was trying to explain it to her, and she totally flipped out and hung up! She said that I think I'm smarter than her, which is totally untrue! Suzie is the smartest person I know!"
Steve snorted, "I told you you could be condescending-"
Dustin glared at him, waving him away, "I'm asking Eddie thank you very much! "I just thought she knew that I know she's smarter than me. So what should I do?"
Eddie shrugged, "I was with someone like that once, super, super smart but they could never acknowledge it in the way I thought they should. For them though, it was because people always talked down to them and never made the effort to see how they were smart. There are a lot of different kinds of intelligence out there right? So just let her know that there are some things you're better at but you know that for most things she's the gold star child."
Eddie glanced back at Dustin, rolling his eyes when he realized the kid was actually taking notes, but it gave him a chance to stealthily grab Steve's hand and squeeze it with a wide grin, "It isn't fair, but rarely does the smartest person in a room, know that it's them."
And if Steve couldn't help but kiss the daylights out of him while they were still in the Wheeler's driveway after that little speech, he stood that it was still Eddie's fault for being so sweet.
The kids kept coming to Eddie for advice, mostly because it usually worked. Some of it Steve was there for and some of it he wasn't, but it never stopped embarrassing the living hell out of him to hear himself be talked about so positively and sweetly, especially if it came out of the mouths of one of the kid's, unknowingly repeating stories and advice centered around Steve.
It was Will who finally cracked it, because who else? They were all at the Harrington place, taking full advantage of the absentee parents and pool during a hot summer day. Wil found the two of them in the kitchen, in the middle of a stupid debate over the best action movie of the year, sharing a popsicle back and forth while they play-fought.
He looked nervous as he walked up to them, looking anywhere but at their faces, "Hey Eddie, do you mind if I ask you something?"
Eddie nodded, snatching the last of the popsicle from Steve's hand, ignoring his whining, "Sure dude, what's up?"
"Have you ever, um, liked someone who you thought didn't like you back? But then they started...acting different?"
Eddie cocked his head at him, "Elaborate."
"Like...just treating you differently. More touchy-feely and attentive maybe? Do you think...that means anything? Has that ever happened to you?"
Steve glanced out the kitchen window, eyes on Mike as he sat at the edge of the pool, legs dangling over the side while his head was on a swivel, no doubt looking for Will.
It didn't take a genius to guess who he was talking about.
Eddie shrugged, "Not exactly? But I have gone after someone majorly out of my league before. And that worked out. I'd say just be straight forward and confident. Ask if they're interested, or if you can't do that ask them how'd they feel if you got with someone else. That can sometimes get the ball rolling if they're being too tight-lipped about their feelings."
Will nodded along, "So is that how you got Steve?"
Steve froze while Eddie laughed, not even catching on to the slip, "I got Steve by crying to his loose-lipped best friend about how in love with him I was. Not the best example."
And of course, that was the moment Dustin decided to walk in the room.
Steve brought a hand to his mouth, laughing behind it as Dustin froze, staring wide-eyed at Eddie, "You're with Steve?!"
Eddie whipped around to face him, but Dustin was already staring at Steve, "So the someone like that, has been you this whole time?!"
Steve was still laughing behind his hand as Dustin skittered out, no doubt to announce to the whole backyard just where their great love advice had been coming from.
Will followed him, winking at them over his shoulder as he went. Eddie was still standing there, confused on how one of the munchkins just bamboozled him into telling the longest kept secret he ever had.
Steve clapped a hand on his shoulder, just as voices started to raise from the background, coupled with a few yells around someone owing Will money, "Guess the secret's out huh?"
Eddie turned to face him with a sigh, smacking a kiss to his forehead, "You realize this means you're going to have to help with the love advice now right?"
Steve groaned, "I thought my existence was the help."
"Nope, it's your turn to give the love advice about me from now on."
Steve laughed, leaning in to kiss him chastely on the mouth. They grinned at each other, enjoying their last moments of peace before the whole gaggle of kids made they're way into the room, armed with questions and accusations galore.
But that was okay, Steve was more than ready for it to be his turn.
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whorexis · 5 months
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alright so basicallyyyyyy 3 words. hobie. angry. sex. ight so. you were high asf at a little college party and started to flirt with this random guy blah blah blah. hobie found out and he was PISSED. u guys had a heated argument and it ended up into him having u on all 4's and fucking him like his life depended on it🤗🤗
short a/n: hi guys! I'm actually alive :3 sorry for the lack of posts, recently my phone stopped working because apparently there was water in it. Then it somehow broke in pieces and I managed to put some pieces together but eventually ended up tapering it close. I also got hit by a bus but here's the smut!
Kinktober-day 23
High
Hobie Brown x gn!afab!reader
Warning/s: smut, angry sex, possessive!hobie, p in v, creampie, high sex but r eventually sobers up quickly, slight fingering
Hobie was never a controlling person. He could never imagine himself being extremely possessive over something — over someone. But things always tend to change and secrets are there to be revealed.
So when he saw you in the crowd of the party with a random guy whispering something in your ear, he couldn't stop himself from stomping over to you and roughly gripping your wrist, immediately pulling you away from the guy. "Ow!.. what the fuck!" Your words were slurred and he immediately knew you were high.
Well shit. He said no word as he dragged you to his flat, slamming the door shut and bringing you into his room.
"I told you not to fuckin' smoke! Are ya deaf or somethin'?!"
"Shut the fuck up, you're making my head spin!"
"Yeah? Ya know how bloody pretty you are and you know these men crawl all over you and you're not even tryin' to stop them! You're drivin' me mad!" You couldn't deny the fact that his words made your heart swell and your thighs shake.
"Fuck off hobie, I don't need a fucking babysitter and we're not even a thing! God, why are you so.."
He raised an eyebrow, daring you to continue. "So what?"
"So possessive!"
And thats what had him pinning you against the wall with a tight grip on your waist.
"Dont even try to act like ya don't enjoy it, slut. 'Nd y'know damn well you've got a shit ton of me inside o' you, d'ya think I wanna share you afta somethin' like 'at?"
And right after that sentence, you let out the sound you were trying to hold in so desperately. A quiet moan. Of course, this did not get unnoticed by hobie. "Yeah, you enjoy tha' don't you? Bet ya were jus' whorin' yourself out so I can fuck ya raw, huh?"
And no second later you were pushed into the bed on all fours, panties and clothes all thrown off with your arousal embarassingly dripping down your thighs. Hobie wasted no time getting to work as he plugged two of his fingers into your wet hole. You moaned loudly but the feeling didn't last long. He had his pants pulled down just so much till his dick was showing out. His tip went over your hole and without a warning he slammed into you. He was rough. He was very rough.
Your tears were already dripping into the sheets just like the precum hobie so desperately tried to keep inside of you, but everytime he stretched your walls out, his dick came out all wet and covered in whoevers juice. You couldn't get your voice to speak up, you felt like you had no control over your body anymore. His hips snapped into you, his grunts were loud and the sound of your squelching juice was embarassingly loud.
But soon things got too much. You had noticed how he fucked you fast and deep, but he hadn't even made an attempt to try and find your g-spot. He was just searching for his own orgasm as you clenched around him. Hobie could hear your once pleasureable sounding moans fading into whines of frustration.
"Wha'? Tha's what you wanted, innit? Cunt's so fuckin' good, swallowing me jus' like it should be. 'M gonna fuck you so good luv, jus' like you wanted me to,.. 'm gonna- fuck— .. gonna make you mine, stretch you out so bad tha' no one else can eva use you"
Your thighs started to quiver at his words, but you wanted more. You wanted to cum, too. You wanted him to just reach that spongy spot, the spot he knew all too well, but he didn't. Your sobs became louder as your body shook and you could feel his pace quickening if that was even possible. He was animalisticly fast pounding into you but he kept his limits to only making himself climax. He wanted to hear your begs and apologies first before he gave in and let you feel your release too.
"Cat gotcha tongue? 'F want somethin' ask fo' it like I trained you to, or have you forgotten? Did ya hook up with so many otha's tha' you can't even remember my words? Wha' a shame, luv." He knew you didn't fuck anyone else, he knew you too well— you weren't that type of a person anyway, but a punishment was a punishment. Or maybe he was just jealous. But in any other way he still wanted to hear you beg.
"P-please.."
"Tsk, ya can do more wit' tha' big mouth o' yours."
"Please! hobes 'm sorry! 'M sorry please baby— please let me cum!"
And that was all it took for him to absolutely ruin your cunt. He finally started thrusting up to that g-spot, his tip kissing your cervix and making you shudder. Desperate whines of apologies left your mouth, the guilt of what you had done slowly rising inside of you.
"Im sorry Im sor.. sorry I- Im— h-hobie please!—"
He grunted out loudly as he reached his high, absolutely filling your hole with his white liquid like he had done many times before that.
"Y'dont fuckin' deserve to cum, y'know tha' right?" He rasped as he continued his thrusts, his cum leaking out of your hole. You couldn't do much than to helplessly nod, but you knew hobie wanted more than that. "-M k..know. p-please hobie, 'm almost there"
And before you even knew it he had you on cloud 9, making you cum all over his dick as he pulled out to not overstimulate you too much. He looked at your fucked out pussy, only to find it dripping with his cum. His fingers came up to your hole as he pushed the juice back inside of you. "If someone eva tries to lie their hands on ya, all they'll eva fuckin' find is me inside o' you. This cunt is mine. don't think I'm dumb, I know y're into this"
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the-breloominati · 2 years
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honestly pizzas are about as versatile a food type as pies and that fucks
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taintedcigs · 6 months
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ YOURS, MINE, OURS. ghostface!dom!steddie x fem reader
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— summary : you ask your boyfriends to surprise you in ghostface masks.
— word count : 4.6k
— warnings : 18+ ONLY, minors dni!!!, smut, prn without plot, p in v, bj!!, or*l (m and f receiving), fingering, hj, unprotected sex, mmf/mfm threesome (mostly mfm for this one but they do stuff too), dom/sub dynamics, mean!dom!eddie, mean!dom!steve, sub!reader, very tiny knife play, spitting?, degrading, petnames (baby, slvt, whore, princess, etc.)
a/n : not proof-read >:( whoever came up w soft dom!eddie and mean dom!steve combo i owe u my life! also kinda wanna make dom!steddie a series with various one-shots but? what do yall think?
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You had talked about this many times before.
Expressed how badly you wanted the two of them to fuck you in that Ghostface mask.
So when they finally agreed with the plan and came in through your window, pining you against your bed, you couldn't help the lustful gasps that left your plump lips, which were already muffled by your own laced panties that they stuffed into your mouth.
"She's already moanin' for us," Eddie purred, tilting his head, his eyes dripping with lust behind the mask as he traced the contours of your face. "Such a desperate slut," Steve mocked further with a deep chuckle.
Your tiny skirt was flipped upward on your stomach, and both of their hands were roaming your body. The sight of your pantieless, glistening cunt was enough to have both of the boys' blood rush to their cock, painfully prodding through their jeans.
Both of them were quick to take off their masks, tossing them aside with their knives while they toyed with you. Eddie held you by your wrists, and Steve's lips were sloppily latched to your neck, nibbling and licking every spot he could find, rough enough to mark your body in every place possible. "Touch her," he murmured toward Eddie, who nodded frantically.
Steve ordered both of you around with ease, his cock growing harder at the fact that the two of you were so quick to obey his orders, that submissive look was embedded in both of your eyes.
Eddie's calloused hands were rough as they landed on your thigh, you yelped quickly, "P-please," you whined, voice still muffled.
"I can't hear you, sweetheart, what did ya say?" Eddie mocked with a sly chuckle. "Poor little baby just wants to be stuffed with our cock," Steve whispered against your neck, you whined an incoherent babble to them, and Steve huffed before he yanked away the panties from your lips so you could speak.
“Yes!” You whined out of breath. “More!” You pouted at him all brattily, earning a harsh slap on your ass.
"Behave." Steve warned with dark eyes, Eddie's one hand still had a tight grip on your wrist while his other hand was quick to snake between your thighs, fingers teasing at your clit.
His hands let go of your wrists and his face slid down to your thighs, lip ghosting over your leg as he looked up at you with a sly smirk. Your body was burning with desire, you wanted to grip his head and push him further into your aching cunt, and just as you were about to reach for him, Steve had a harsh hold on you with a tut. "Nuh-uh," he mocked with a tilt of his head.
"You're gonna lay there and take what we fuckin' give you," he spat, his hands quick to retrieve the knife next to him, cutting your bra in one swift motion, both of the boys groaning at the sight of your breasts. You opened your mouth to tell him off, but he quickly interrupted you with the light graze of the knife on your skin.
The cold exhilarating touch of it had you arching your back, nipples quick to harden as both of them watched you smugly.
"So fuckin' desperate," Steve mocked, his gaze overblown with lust now, loving the way you submitted so easily and how much of a slut you were for them.
Your thighs closed around Eddie's head, desperate for him to give you something, anything. “Please,” you panted. Eddie looked at Steve for confirmation, who nodded with a sly smirk.
He was quick to slide a finger into your slick walls, curving his digits and pressing his lips against your cunt to suck on your clit, earning small cries with each of his movements. "You like that, honey?" You nodded frantically.
Steve cherished your whines and the shift of your hips to gain some more friction. He placed the knife aside before his mouth latched onto your nipples, both of them overstimulating you in every possible way, deliciously.
Steve dropped the firm hold on your wrists; instead, focusing on the bulge prodding against his tight pants, he stroked himself with a low whine that was dulled by your breasts that were attached to his lips. 
You wanted to take advantage of your free hands, take Eddie by his curls, and push his head further down, but you were too distracted by the two of them—the way their mouths moved and the way their hands roamed on your body. And, besides, you knew if you tried anything, both of them would have you crying out, mewling, to even have them fuck you.
You were beyond frustrated. The moment they came through your window with those masks and the moment they took them off, revealing their devilish smirks, your pussy ached at the sight.
"Look at our slut, Stevie, so fucked out with just our tongues, hmm?" Eddie said through gritted teeth, lapping up your juices in delight. You moaned in response, your heels digging further into the bed. You sounded like a woman possessed.
Steve let go of your nipples with a slight pop sound. "S'fuckin' loud for us today, aren't you, sweets?" He tutted with a tilt of his head. 
"Look at those pretty little glossy lips, Eds," he hummed, hand squishing your cheeks as his eyes devoured you whole.
Eddie looked up in awe, oggling your breasts with a shift of his hips. He needed some kind of friction. You looked perfect from this angle; your mouth stood agape with Steve's force on your cheeks, and tits glistening with his spit. He wanted nothing more than to watch them bounce up and down while he stuffed you full of his cock.
He continued his soft strokes on your clit, making you arch your back onto his mouth. "Think you need to have that mouth stuffed with something bigger than her panties, Stevie." Eddie suggested with a mocking grin.
"God, you're so fuckin' perfect, baby," He praised Eddie with a frustrated huff. "C'mere," he muttered. Eddie was quick to oblige, leaving you all whiney and frustrated as he reached for Steve.
"N-no!" You squealed out, "n-need more, need both of you." You huffed with a pout, looking at both of them with an innocent look.
The cold glare they gave you was enough to have your lips pressed tightly into a straight line, you knew if you went further with your brattiness, you'd be in for a long punishment, but you didn't want that, at least not today, not when your insides were pulsating with the need to be stuffed full of their cocks and their warm cum.
"Behave." Steve warned with a harsh grip on your face, making you look at his darkened gaze. "Eddie was such a good boy today," he praised again, turning his gaze toward Eddie's sickly sweet brown eyes.
"And you were nothing but a brat," he spat without even looking at you, making you pout further.
"'m sorry," you huffed. They paid no attention to you when Steve grabbed Eddie's chin harshly. Kissing him so roughly that his lips mashed against his teeth, making him yelp for more.
He swirled his tongue in Eddie's mouth, one hand discarding his curls messily, while the other was quick to free himself of his painful pants and even more painful boxers.
Revealing his hardened cock as it plopped against his stomach, making him hiss against the dizzying kiss. Pre-cum beaded from his deliciously pink slit, making your mouth water and your thighs dampen further and further the more you watched them.
You loved both of them dominating you, but seeing Steve so easily overpower both you and Eddie had your stomach in a twist. The sudden flip of a switch in Eddie between you and Steve was glorious, and it had you whining like a brat.
Steve stroked himself as he deepened the kiss, his deep brown eyes half shut with desire as he whined into Eddie's mouth, your core immediately vibrating with the ache for both of them.
He smeared the pre-cum sitting on his angry tip onto his length, fucking his hand roughly with a determined gaze on you.
Heat rushed to your cheeks and straight to your aching cunt as you watched your two boys with desire.
Eddie's gaze widened once he fully comprehended where the lewd noises were coming from. Steve jerked his thick cock, a stilled smirk plastered on his parted lips. Eddie didn't hesitate to help Steve out, his hand flying to take over as he stroked up his shaft, slow and steady.
Steve grunted into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. You watched with your teeth dug into your lips, the more Eddie tugged at Steve's thick cock, the more Steve panted and bucked his hips further into Eddie's calloused hands, spurring you on and on.
Steve broke the kiss with a satisfied huff when he heard your strained groans, biting Eddie's bottom lip before he turned to you, "enjoying the show?" He mocked, licking his lips while he kept his stern gaze on you, and Eddie palmed Steve’s dick with the need to have his cum spurting all over the both of you.
You nodded with a slight huff, pupils blown with lust. "If you had been a good girl, you'd be the one stroking my cock," Steve hissed.
"Or better yet, I'd have you bouncin' on it." You whined loudly at that. Wanting nothing more than to have both of your boys filling your holes, any and all of them.
"P-please," you begged. "I'll be good, s-so good, I promise." You feigned an innocent look, a pout adorning your lips.
Your begging earned their attention as Eddie's movement on Steve slowed down, stopping completely when you continued. "Promise, I'll be so good, the bestest," you hummed, earning a warm smile from Eddie, who was too quick to soften up the moment you gave them those eyes.
Steve sighed a deep breath. "What'd ya think, baby?" He turned to Eddie, who was almost already drooling, his cock swelling more at the sight of your wet cunt, begging to be plunged into.
"Stevie," he whined. "Need to be inside of our lil' slut."
"Need to stuff all of her holes and show her who owns them." Eddie's tone was gentle toward Steve, his gaze on you was anything but. Deep brown eyes looking like they were ready to swallow you whole.
"Please, baby, I want to teach her what happens to bratty little sluts like her, hmmm?" Eddie almost growled, making blood rush straight through Steve's cock, twitching with need.
"So fuckin' perfect," Steve groaned when he pulled Eddie for another kiss, harsh and sloppy.
"Don't give into her too fast, baby. I know she's cute with her pouts and all, but we need to punish her, yeah?" Steve demanded, watching Eddie nod quickly once he got back to his first position, eyes hungrily watching you.
"Don't worry, Stevie, I'm gonna remind our baby who owns her," he said with a low growl, reaching down to grab your hips with both of his hands. Your breathing grew shallower the rougher he was with you.
"And make her never fuckin' forget that she's ours to use. Our personal little cock sleeve," his voice was more teasing now; that damned smirk played on the curve of his lips as his fingers slipped between your legs, quick to re-find their place, your gushing cunt giving him easy access.
You wanted to agree with him, and be good for both of them, but all that escaped your parted lips were strained moans, and your hips were quick to buck into his fingers, wanting him deeper and deeper.
"Oh look how she's squirmin' under my touch Stevie," Eddie hummed, and Steve watched in awe. Both of you were driving him fucking crazy.
"You love that, don't you, baby? You love being used by us. Love being filled and stuffed in all of your holes, hmmm?" He frowned mockingly.
"The perfect fuckin' cum dump," he hummed, the stroke of his fingers alternating between slow and fast, making your head dizzy as the lewd sounds of Eddie fingering you filled the room.
"P-please," you whispered, eyes squeezed shut. "M-more," you cried out, eyes quick to become glossy.
"So fuckin' mouthy today," Eddie tutted with a disapproving sound, head turning to Steve. "You wanna take care of that, baby?" He asked all sweetly; his fingers were sliding quickly between your slick folds, sending a shot of desire straight to Steve's cock.
Normally, he would've told Eddie to watch it for trying to act like he was in charge, but he loved Eddie ordering you around like this, and he loved to see you squirm underneath him.
Steve tutted with his brows pinched together. "Thought you wanted to be our good girl, honey," he hummed, fingers slowly stroking your cheek. You looked up at him all doe-eyed. "I-I am! I promise!" You weakly protested between your whines; Eddie's fingers were so agonizingly slow that you were trying to rock into his movement.
He heaved a sigh of breath. "Look at you, doll. Your gloss is all messed up," he said in a low tone, gripping your chin harshly to force you to look up at him.
His fingers were quick to graze against your lips. "Let me fix it," he hummed. With half-lidded eyes and whines escaping your lips, you nodded obediently.
His other hand grabbed his hardened cock, giving it a few tugs before he slapped it across your cheek, earning a shocked gasp from you. Your eyes widened with excitement as you watched him.
His fingertips found their way to his pink slit, and a hissed sound escaped as he swiped his thumb over his angry tip, spreading some of the pre-cum before he dragged it on your mouth, smearing it all over your lips.
A sly grin overtook his features as he dragged his cock all over your lips, making sure each part of your lips was drenched in his semen.
Before he could tell you to taste him, your tongue darted out of your mouth, a loud moan escaping your lips as you eagerly lapped up all of his juices, looking up at him with a heavenly gaze and a sugary smile.
Steve looked back at you dumbfounded. Surges of pleasure coursed through his veins like electricity, and his balls felt so much heavier when you slightly parted your lips to take his index fingers in your mouth. You sucked at it greedily, faux innocent eyes never leaving his.
Eddie's movements came to a halt as he watched the two of you, both of their cock hardened to the point of pain, ready to release just from the filthy sounds you made as you sucked on Steve's fingers.
Steve slowly retracted his digit from your mouth. "Open," he muttered, voice low. You parted your lips happily, watching the way he fucked his hand. You wanted nothing more than to have him filling your mouth and to feel his warm cum shooting down your throat. Just the thought of it had you closing your thighs together unashamedly.
"Let me see that tongue," he purred, grabbing your chin. You stuck your tongue out without any complaint, giving him the same gaze that had both of them groan in unison.
"Such a good girl for us, aren't you?" He hummed, making you nod frantically before he spat into your mouth, you almost gasped at the invasion of his fluids in your mouth, but it warmed your tongue quickly. "Swallow." He demanded, and you happily swallowed, watching the way his deep brown eyes squinted in satisfaction.
"You're so fuckin' perfect," he grunted. "That filthy fucking mouth, and those perfect tits," he hummed in excitement, fisting his cock roughly, "and just the sight of that tight cunt, oh, god, baby." He let out a strained groan.
"Tastes even better, Stevie," Eddie said with a smirk, diving back into your thighs, pressing the flat of his tongue against your throbbing clit, soaking in the way you squirmed under his mouth.
"I don't think I can fuckin' wait," his voice drowned out between your thighs, "need to be inside'a her." He slurred.
"I think you've earned this, princess," he whispered. "Right, baby?" He hummed contently, attention diverting to Eddie.
Eddie's head was quick to pop up, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. "Fuck yes," he groaned eagerly, not even wasting a second to undo his zipper and toss his clothes aside.
You looked up at him excitedly. "Masks?" Steve's eyebrows rose at that. "You want us to wear our masks while we fuck your holes, honey?" He shuddered, his mind going numb with how perfect you were.
You nodded happily. "Since you've been such a good girl," he hummed, slipping on his mask before he tossed Eddie his.
You could feel Eddie's thick, veiny shaft pressing against your legs, smearing his beads of pre-cum all over your inner thighs.
They were both so addicting—the way they moved in unison and how they had your breath hitching just with their masks on.
You don't know what it was that you loved about those masks, but you loved how they immediately made both your boys more confident and dominant. Especially Eddie, who was eyeing you with such hunger that it had your core throbbing, the head of his dick prodding your entrance.
Steve had your attention back when he slapped his dick against your lips, parting them open before he gave it a few tugs. He kneeled on the bed, towering above you.
He slid his angry tip into your awaiting mouth, not worried about hurting you once he pushed himself harshly with a low grunt coming out of his lips. Your mouth was quick to wrap around it, licking and sucking every inch of him you possibly could fit. “See, you look so much prettier like this, baby, droolin’ all over my cock and knowing your place,” he groaned, eyes carefully watching you behind the mask. 
And you loved every second of it—his husky voice with that goddamn mask as he shoved your face further onto his cock, your nose hitting his pubes as you drooled around him. And Eddie could tell how much sucking Steve’s cock turned you on, feeling the way your thighs dampened more and more. 
“Stevie she’s fuckin’ soaked from sucking your dick,” Eddie mocked with a chuckle as he teasingly slid his shaft against your slick walls. You whimpered for more, but he just looked at you with that goddamn smirk.
They enjoyed this, teasing you until you got all whiney and teary, so cock drunk to the point where all you could let out were incoherent babbles for them to make you cum.
"Isn't this what you were fuckin' begging for, baby, huh?" Eddie pouted mockingly.
"To be fucked dumb by both of your daddies, hmm?" He asked, dragging his cock up and lining it with your entrance. You were quick to nod frantically, mouth muffled by Steve’s thick cock shoved into it. 
You could barely comprehend what was happening when he started to sheath himself inside of your velvety walls, making your pussy accommodate his size quickly. It burned, just a little bit, but your cunt clamped down around him quickly, and a groan lodged in his throat, his face scrunching when he pushed himself further. 
“You look so good like this,” he panted. “All fucked out on our cocks, just begging for more, like a bitch in heat.” Eddie groaned, 
Steve’s hands quickly wrapped around your hair, yanking you hard as he pumped further into your mouth. “Can’t even move her damn mouth,” he spat. “Have to do all the fuckin’ work,” he groaned. You could barely catch your breath the more vicious his thrusts got. 
But you were used to it, welcoming his thick cock as you took what he gave you, trying to hollow your cheeks to please him further. Tears prickled at your eyes, and your face heated from being so breathless. 
“Look how well she’s takin’ both of us… and this tight fuckin’ cunt… molded just for us,” he moaned, watching the way his cock split you apart. His grip on your hips hardened, enough to leave a blotchy bruise, marking you. 
He eyed you with a proud smirk, plunging into you harder while Steve fucked your face with ease. Your whines and groans were uncontrollable, as were Steve and Eddie’s. The room was filled with a mixture of the lewd sounds of your grunts and the harsh slapping of flesh. 
Eddie was feral, plunging his cock further into your velvety walls, not stopping until he was sure you were fully stuffed, and the deeper he went, the deeper you took Steve into your mouth. All three of you were in sync; the rocking motion had everyone in a hazy state, not knowing when any of you were about to fucking lose it. 
“Such a warm fuckin’ mouth, Eddie… and she’s droolin’ all over my cock,” Steve grunted, his grip on your hair tightened, slamming your head with force as he enjoyed the way you gagged around him, his cock hitting the back of your throat.
“She’s drenchin’ my cock too, so good for us,” Eddie chuckled. You rocked your hips back onto him, making Eddie almost lose it. “Fuck- fucking messy little slut.” He growled in a husky voice, pumping his cock in and out of you in a delicious pace.
“God, you both look so hot…” Steve groaned. “Shit, shit, shit… Love watching your cock drive into her, gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, both of you.” 
You could barely focus, delighted sobs muffled by Steve’s stuttering hips driving further into you. “Needy fuckin’ whore,” he shuddered when you choked around him. “Don’t know how much longer I can hold off." You looked up at him all doe-eyed, ready to take all of his cum and swallow it whole.
He almost lost it at that look—so primal and needy, but so fucking innocent. “Mhmm, gonna shoot my load down that pretty little throat.” You whimpered, making Steve’s head fall back in pleasure. 
“Fuuuck, want that princess? Want me to fill your slutty mouth?” You nodded as best as you could, pouting. 
“Shit, pretty girl, I’ll give you all of my cum.” He stroked your cheek, wiping away the tears that left your glossy eyes. 
“You close, baby?” Steve asked, directed toward Eddie, who was lost in your pussy, reveling in your moans. “F-fuck yes,” he panted.
“Can tell she’s fuckin’ close, too… Tight fuckin’ cunt squeezing me, wants to milk me dry, yeah?” He asked with a mocking chuckle. 
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, pretty girl, shit I’m gonna-” Steve was losing it, grumbling as he furiously fucked your mouth. “N-need your cum, Stevie,” you let out a gurgled sound, Steve’s cock immediately twitching, balls drawing up with the need to release.  
“I’m gonna- oh, fu-fuuck,” he let out a load groan, bucking his hips with a force that had your mind fuzzy, enjoying the feeling of being filled everywhere. Steve was hitting the back of your throat, and you could almost feel Eddie in your tummy. 
His cock throbbed in your throat. “Take it, b-baby, fuuuck, mmpf! Y-yeah… take it all,” he grunted, with ropes of hot cum spurting down your throat with one final thrust, tainting your throat. 
He watched you swallow it all with a filthy smile on your lips. Eddie was stunned watching the two of you, his vision blurring as he was chasing his release now. 
You’re too fucked out, but now with your mouth free, you want to tease Eddie and get him to his breaking point because you know you are close—so close that it aches. And you know he will only let you cum once he does. 
Your attention diverts back to him, with an innocent look, “Mhmm, Eds?” you whined, voice still coarse after getting your throat abused by Steve. 
He looked back at you, pupils blown wide. “What do you need, pretty girl?” He hummed, 
“W-wanna see you,” you hummed with a sweet pout, and he was quick to oblige, taking off the mask swiftly. 
You grind your hips onto his cock, tiny whimpers leaking out of your plump lips, wanting more. 
More, more, more.
“I-I…” you barely let out between your whines, and he stared at you in a hypnotic gaze, each part of him completely allured by you now. 
Your fingers grazed against your tummy. “I-I can feel you here, sir,” you stuttered with that look again. Leaving Eddie stunned as his mind reveled, calling him 'sir' with the most pornographic gaze ever, you truly had him wrapped around your finger. 
He shuddered in a deep breath. “Jesus fu-fucking,” he growled. His pace picked up, head thrown back as he plunged into you. “Fuuuuck, angel, keep sayin’ shit like that, and you’ll make me cum.” Steve watched curiously, blood quick to rush to his cock again when both of his sluts were so fucking filthy. 
“Wanna make you cum, sir,” you sobbed beneath him. You were close, so fucking close. Body shuddering with how badly you needed a release. “P-please need m-more.” Tiny whines left your parted lips; he could feel your cunt gushing on his cock, desperately sucking him in. 
“Shit, pretty girl. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? To be fucked dumb like this? To be our little fucktoy?” He was losing it, beads of sweat prickled on his forehead.
“Mhmmm, love being owned by the two of you,” you hummed, head tilting toward Steve with a vulgar look before turning your attention back to your own release. “Please, Eds, n-need to…”  
“You wanna cum, baby?” You nodded frantically. “Wanna cum, while I claim you? While I stuff you full of my cum, have it leakin’ down those pretty thighs?” He hissed. 
“P-please!” you cried out, “want you to come inside’a me.” You cried out, your pussy convulsing more and more around him. 
“C’mon sweet girl,” he hummed. He pistoned into you, watching his cock split you open once more. “Cum for me,” he hissed. 
That was all the confirmation you needed as you chased your release, primal groans filling the air as your walls fluttered around him, orgasm washing you away as you were sure you saw stars for a moment.
“F-fuuuckk, g-gonna fill you so fuckin’ deep,” he growled against your ear, fully losing it with one vicious thrust, feeling the way your cunt was squeezing him as thick ropes of his warm cum spurted inside of you, painting your walls white.
Both of your visions blurred with how hard you came, and Eddie could feel his cum leaking out of your stuffed pussy, he groaned at the feeling. 
Once his cock softened and slipped out of you, he crashed next to you, planting a quick kiss on your bare shoulder. 
Steve was quick to jump back into the bed, making his way down to your thighs, and your head cocked in curiosity, watching the way he spread your legs. 
His cock twitched at your fucked out expression. Your hair was messily discarded, your mouth still stained with Steve’s cum, and your tear-strained cheeks made him hard again.  
His head drooped down to your glistening pussy, stuffed full of Eddie’s load that was leaking down your thighs. His fingers spread apart your pussy lips, admiring how full you were. “W-what are you doing?” You asked with a sweet hum. 
“I wanna taste both of you.” Steve hissed with a devilish smirk, diving into your sore cunt as his tongue flattened on your clit, savoring the taste of the two of you.
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blueparadis · 1 year
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❝ HAUNTED ❞ + XAVIER THORPE !
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+. CWs —» f!reader, switch!reader, outcast!reader, fluff, she/her pronouns, mutual pining, sexual tension, family drama, flirting, manipulation, mentions of abuse, blood, wounds & therapy, flashbacks in italics, supernatural themes ; explicit smut, s & d dynamics, bottom-dom!xavier, cowgirl position; word count-3.5k
+. PRECIS —» Xavier Thorpe has finally found the girl of his dreams after being haunted by her.
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+. NOTES —» this is for my beloved sister @zoraedits ’s brainrot contribution.she won't stop making edits on him. && I'm tagging @orchid3a cuz i luv u
you can browse more of my works here. || also available in AO(III). reblogs and comments are very much appreciated.
feel free to send in thirsts and suggestions for this show, Wednesday. This is my first time writing for shows like this; my main fandom spectrum is animanga but I do hope this was a good read for ya’all as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3.
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The table calendar was full of red inks all over, dirt sedimented on the sketchbook, and the pencils laid in the case in absolute solitude. Xavier looked at the calendar kept on his desk near his bed in all despondency and a heavy sigh escaped from his lips. It has been days since he stepped into his studio, have not touched his art accessories for almost a month. One thing was for sure, he was plagued by visions in his dreams but this time it was nothing demising. 
This time his sketchbooks were not filled by a monster, this time he was not afraid to draw rather he was drawn to it; part of him was stoked while sketching while a part of him was reluctant to draw the whole picture. He had spent countless sleepless nights before, not resorting to sleeping as he was threatened by nightmares. And now his sleep was peaceful as if entering into the realm of dreamland.
Xavier was sure that his mind was captured by a girl who came to visit him in his sleep, never showing her face, only showing herself in bits and pieces. He had spent his childhood receiving showers of praise for his talent for drawing but the origin was never happy. Of course, he enjoyed it and liked to show off his talent for art but secretly he wished his power would vanish into oblivion, for it was never pleasant.
People say that the art of someone reflects one’s persona, one’s raw feelings but Xavier always begged to differ since those memories, those incidents were never his. There always had been a wave of remorse that washed over him after he stepped out of his art studio since the praises he received never belonged to him. 
Many were astoundingly taken aback by his knack for drawing and suggested he pursue art, to be a renowned artist but he knew he would lose all the glory once he stopped having those dreams. Moreover, he did not always have such dreams so the possibility of waking up one day and being unable to paint and as a result, staring at a blank canvas scared him to death. Heck! He even considered going to Doctor Kinbott so that his sanity would not be hanging by thread.
For the last couple of weeks, he has been dreaming of odd landscapes. Xavier had never seen them in his life yet he saw how the dusky crimson hue smothered the snowy mountain ranges, how the clouds gathered before the arrival of a rainstorm, how the birds sang songs and all the owes and pangs of nature. One thing he could conclude from those dreams was that whoever it belonged to was a chaser of freedom, that is, was a soarer of the sky.
Xavier had not told anyone about his dreams, nor put them on paper to ease his mind. What would he tell? What would he draw? Last night was particularly odd concerning the regular pattern of his dreams. He dreamt of falling from a high cliff into the water and a broken wing. When he woke up, he was all soaked, even his bed, and his olfactory senses did not miss the subtle scent of stagnant water. He was breathing rashly as if he was the one who drowned as if he was the one to fall.
He closed his eyes and tried to recapitulate his dream, searching for a mark, searching for a recognizable feature, searching for something, anything, anything at all. His desperation knew no bounds when left his dorm and rushed into his studio in the middle of the night since somewhere at the corner of his hopeless heart he knew he found one, a ray of hope.
A lot of crumbled papers surrounded Xavier as he tried accumulating the pieces from his puzzled mind. Around two o’clock he left his studio on his bicycle, the paper where he drew tucked in his pocket. He was sure he had witnessed the scenery before unlike the others.  When he finally reached the top of the highland, he witnessed the view from his most recent dream. 
The only thing that engulfed his presence was the sound of the waterfall echoing through the woods. He noticed a pond nearby and an adjacent high plateau near it. It was higher from where he was standing. After looking around for a few minutes he figured that there was no way to go there unless one swam through the stream or flew toward it.
On his way back, he felt happy, he felt sane. At least he had proof of the existence of a creature that haunted him, even in his wake. Xavier showered before going to bed just to clear his head before a good night's sleep. He kept a white feather as a bookmark in his sketch pad while a smile smothered his face. He was right. He was haunted by a fairy-like creature.
“Two cappuccinos”, Xavier mumbled as he went back to the counter at Weathervane. It was another event where all the students of Nevermore set foot into the world of normies to carry on the ties between two polar opposite worlds. But no matter how much one tried, the other always tried to retaliate. Their relationship was always on a tightrope, it could snap at any moment. And it certainly did.
“And you did not bother to tell me about this. . .”, Principal Weems trailed off as she left her seat, walked past her desk, and inclined against it, “until everyone in town became aware of it.”
“I thought I was going to be called insane or bullied. Last time I told something about my dreams, I found myself behind the bars.”, he responded, keeping his eye on the ground. Principal Weems exhaled grudgingly. She had no grounds to punish this boy since he was not entirely wrong. Hence, Xavier was dismissed with mere detention. 
Xavier was forbidden from the school campus for a week. Everyone felt sorry for him, in his situation but secretly he could not be happier because he had all the time to draw, sketch, paint and think — and it was all about her, y/n. 
That day at the café, Xavier was the sole witness of a crime. It happened so quickly, so fast that all she could do was succumb to her fate. A man was standing near the corner of the kitchen with his back facing Xavier. Xavier was not supposed to be here but he had to fetch some ingredients for making pastries and cupcakes. 
As the man turned around, Xavier saw a bloodied butcher's knife in his hand. Near his feet lay a girl with a bloodied back the blood quickly spread all over her blouse. She stood motionless, like a statue. The eye contact was merely for two seconds and he immediately smashed the sugar jar on his head, distracting him, to tackle her out of the way.
The other townies turned up for help. Not all people in the world came to be cruel and heartless. All Xavier did was contact Principal Weems so that she could swiftly take care of this matter, which she had to otherwise the reputation of the Nevermore Academy would be in danger. The girl was taken to a nearby hospital. 
Y/n L/n was her name. After the untimely death of her parents, she was raised by her uncle, by a normal family. Naturally, when she began to bloom, she was forced to be normal. One would think she tried to run, tried to hide or fight but Alas! none was the case for this matter. She felt indebted to her uncle and his family, for taking care of her, aiding her upbringing, fulfilling the role of parents, and hence helping her to be normal. But Xavier's presence on that day turned her life upside down. She was now a student at Nevermore Academy, funded by Principal Weems’ study forum. 
After you recovered within a week, the first thing that dawned on you was to meet him, Xavier, the ‘ hero ’ of your life. You knocked on the door of his studio and waited for a while. There was no answer for a few minutes and when you finally made up your mind to leave, Xavier showed up. He was in his casuals with a teeth-flashing grin on his face.
“How’re you, y/n? The last time I saw you, you were in a hospital bed and now you’re here. in front of me.”, Xavier danced on his toes as he walked into his studio. You followed him and the moment you stepped into his studio you were taken all in awe. The room was filled with artboards, canvases, and sketch supplies, and everything reflected you. Indeed, y/n did not come here to be thankful for what he did since she was not. She was not happy with how her life seemed so devoid of any family. Her uncle was the last of her family and now he is gone. All because of him, Xavier.
“You look better than the last time I saw you.”, Xavier added as he felt the silence between the two of you deafening. You swallowed hard as he tried to ease the tense ambiance thinking how rude of him to remind you of the very wound he was responsible for. There was a desk with a closed sketch pad that caught your attention. 
“Your drawings are very beautiful.”, you pitched in opening it and your heart dropped at the sight of your feather that was kept safely in between those rusty pages. A short gasp escaped your lips as the whirlwind of your life hit you.
Xavier was standing behind you, close to your shivering body. “They are all about you.”, a low whisper before he extended his hand to remove the veil from the canvas. The cloth dropped at your feet revealing every bit of dreary in you that you always wanted to hide. You hated how he could see through your pangs and pathos, you hated how he could and would have eradicated all of it, even if it meant being burnt by it. You swiftly tackled out of his towering frame, feeling naked even though you were more dressed than him. 
“Stay away from me. You shouldn’t come near me.”, Surprise took Xavier in all proportions. His eyebrows became congested as you continued. “I’m grateful that you saved me but do not do that again, ever.” With that, you walked out of his studio but a firm grip on your wrist kept you from running away anymore.
“Listen, I’m being haunted by you, your pain, your emotions, and everything you feel for the past few months, and all you could say to me was to stay away from you… not even a proper thank you.”, His breath hit your lips as he drew in a sharp breath before his amber eyes landed on you, your shaky lips and pale eyes.
Embarrassment rushed into your cheeks and you pushed him lightly uttering, “Stay away” with a little glare to ward him off but when you vanished out of his sight he was not dejected, not at all. Sure, he was conflicted but the way you told him to stay away whereas your body spoke otherwise made him relish the chase that has haunted him for months now.
They say one can only save people only if one wants to be saved. You neither needed help nor saving but you could see why Xavier begged to differ, wanted to be the odd one out, and craved the crown from saving you from your only family. You always had been a rebel since your childhood, going against the flow of the stream. Somewhere in the corner of your heart, you knew you were different, you would be different. 
It was the end of June when you first felt your body ache, back arch, muscles cramping excruciatingly as if someone was poking needles in your skin. Your arms clung to your body as your back bled for the first time. The wailing of such lethal agony submerged amidst the sound of rain as two enormous wings grew with lustrous hues of carmine and amber. Your breathing became regular again, your body stopped hurting as the wings flapped open involuntarily. Every mark, scar, and wound on your body since you were a child began to heal, all by themselves. 
Everyone rejoiced when you went through the family ritual and stood in front of your clan as the last phoenix of your bloodline. It was a miracle that a phoenix had been born in the bloodline but just like with blessings it came with a massive price. You were a healer and a destroyer at the same time. Somewhere something has to die to keep you alive, again and again. Every time you were wounded or hurt, your mother had to lose some of her life until she became lifeless, forever. But the family oracle told your father that it is a part of the process, part of a phoenix's journey that every one of their loved ones had to sacrifice in one way or another. 
Your father just had a miraculous idea to save you and himself from the bottomless pit of despondency and mutual hatred lurking in his heart because of you. He volunteered to sacrifice himself even if that was against his will. The oracle seemed to be unsure about the idea, saying that the cycle might shorten but not cease. But your father was right, the cycle did cease and you became aware of it when your uncle tried to chop off your wings, uprooting the evil once and for all, and no one in your family was harmed. Still, unfortunately, you were under the radar of an outcast, Xavier Thorpe. ‘What would happen if someone not from your bloodline were to sacrifice? What would happen to your mate if they were not an outcast? What would. . . thoughts would not cease to bombard your mind until a knock disrupted your trail of thoughts.
You lifted your eyes for a glance only to find Xavier inclining against the bookshelf with a saccharine smile on his face. Your stomach turned at the sight of him. ‘How can a person be so forgiving?’ but it seems that he is rather forgetful than forgiving. He picked up a random book from the shelf and sat in front of you.
“You’re hurt. . .”, you murmured to which he responded, “more than you think . . .” while turning the pages of the book and occasionally stealing glances from you. You rolled your eyes and leaned towards the table eyeing his hands that had a lot of scratches. It was probably from a silly fight with other boys, maybe the normies; for him, it was just a scratch yet for you it was an opportunity to apologize for the other day. 
“Give me your hand.” As you extended yours, Xavier's reflexively recoiled under the desk. “I’ve no intention of harming you.”, you uttered touching the palm of his other hand that was still on the desk. “Besides, I’m just clearing my debts.”
“Um-hm.”
You inhaled sharply before you flapped those lustrous enormous wings to heal with him, his wounds. Your wings glowed for almost a minute and the hand that was hurt was healed which he was hiding under the desk. It is impressive how Xavier hurt the very hand that can create masterpieces. What a clutz!  He interlaces his fingers with yours as he murmured, “A touch . . . is all you need.”
You begrudgingly pulled your hand away standing up and yelling whisperingly, “stop it. stop this. . . and don’t come near me.” With that, you grabbed your book and went towards the exit of the library. Xavier sat like a child who would mourn for the broken toy rather than demand anew.
“Wait.”, Xavier followed you. He kept yelling in the middle of the corridor, “Y/n. wait.”
“Your wings.”, you finally turned your head but not without letting out a sigh of annoyance. “You’re hurt. . .bleeding” and that is when fear crawled underneath the skin. 
“I never bleed.”, you retorted.
“And, I never lie.”
If it were someone else, you would have shooed them away. But this was Xavier, who saved you from an inevitable, to whom you owed nothing but the truth. Even though you tried to heal yourself you could not, perhaps because you healed someone and that too for the first time. 
Xavier might be persistent but he was not dull. It didn't take him long to connect the dots and hence you had to do the very thing you wanted to avert from the first place. His room was not tidy but not neat and clean either. With Rowan gone he has the room all to himself. You wanted to go to the infirmary, but there wasn't anyone available. Besides, with all the mess you are in you didn't want to risk it.
“I promise I'll behave.”, he said, swinging his hands up in the air in a form of surrender. That made you smile a little as you turned around so that he could tend to the wound. He unzipped your dress and carefully tucked it along your waistline without harming the feathers. Even though you had your camisole on, you still felt naked. His fingers brushed against your skin. It was ice cold. You had to hold your breath as he dressed the wound. 
Xavier noticed how your shoulder blades had been marked. He grazed his fingers over the part from where your wings grew that made you instantly shriek and move away from him. 
“Are you done?”, you asked, surprise and embarrassment coursing through your skin. Your upper body was barely clad, nothing but an unhooked bra. 
“No.”, and within a blink, his lips were already on yours. You could taste the longing and desperation with each suck. Your hands curled around his nape as his hands got rid of the minimal clothing from your upper body. “First time?”, he asked as he moved away leaving you breathless yet craving for more.
“Why? You care?”, you blurted out stepping out of your dress. Xavier eyed you from up and down. You did not flinch but rather smiled as you noticed his astonished face. You had nothing on but just the underwear. 
“I do.”, one of his eyebrows jumped as he knelt near you. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”, he murmured grabbing your calf muscles and kissing your femininity over the cloth. He took a glance before tucking the hem of the panty in between his fingers and undid it. Your hand reflexively went over his head as he kissed your entrance, lapping over your pussy lips that made you suck in a sharp breath. He sucked on your skin, followed by a feeble bite into your inner thighs. 
“AH!”, you winced pausing his ministrations. “Don’t you taste divine?”, he whispered kissing your lips, wetting them with the blend of his saliva and your slick. He was too dressed. You cocked an eyebrow at him and he took the hint. You co-operated as he became almost naked, and was back up even though you wanted him to continue.
“You won’t hurt me. worry for yourself.”, you said as you felt his hands palming your cheeks a little too long than they should. His hands traveled back to your entrance and you moaned under his slight touch.
“What? Never played with yourself?”, he added that surely turning the cogs in your head. You pushed him onto the bed, sitting on him struggling to take his cock in and he was not even helping. All he did was watch you let out whimpers of frustration as you lazily glided on his cock. He rested himself on his elbows saying, “Look at me.” And as you did, his fingers dig into your plush ass cheeks slowly adjusting you at a proper angle and stretching you. You kissed him so break the eye contact that made you feel naked, even though you were. Both of you jolted as you could feel his cock inside you.
His hands clamped around your waist as you bobbed on him, with greater force and broader strokes but slow. With each sloppy hit you felt his cock twitch inside you; your hands desperately roamed all over your body, heat bubbling as you could feel your body tensing, picking up the pace he was setting you in, and the orgasm lurking underneath. You can tell; a few more strokes and you would cum so easily. 
He can feel it too. Xavier winced as he felt you clenching around his cock. His legs folded to support your back while your hands flew to his shoulder blades, his knuckles turning white, his grip growing stronger around your waist and you came right away, back arching and your wings flapping open involuntarily, eyes rolling white relishing the high as your thighs squeezed in.
With your breathing rash and heavy, you felt all mushy in the head and so was he. Xavier could have sworn that he has not seen anything more beautiful than this, than you sitting on him with his cock buried inside you; your skin glistening in sweat with your gorgeous wings at the display. 
As soon as Xavier’s breath relaxed a bit he pulled you into his embrace for a kiss. He could not help it, you were too beautiful to look at. Besides, he was not done, not yet.
by @blueparadis
3K notes · View notes
theskit · 11 months
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Stickers AU
Important!!!
Direct linking gets rid of the readmore cuts!
If you came here via direct link, or wish to use the direct links to another part of the story, and DO NOT want to spoil the surprise stickers, please click on my blog name to go to the actual post after using the link.
Part 7
《Prev Next》
Sitting on the hotel roof as he tried to calm down from the high-speed flight away from Batman, Danny looked over his ill-gotten gains.
Ooh, candy! Why did Batman have candy? Did he have a problem with his blood sugar? Shrugging, Danny popped a sucker into his mouth. What else did he get?
Fiddling with one piece of a thin stack of black metal, he managed to click a concealed switch that caused the sides to expand from an unobtrusive oval to razor-sharp, wing shaped edges. Ow!
Shaking the sting from his left hand, Danny inspected the thin, shallow slice on his finger before holding it to the edge of his hoodie to keep his blood off things until he got back to the room for a band-aid.
Getting the now obviously a batarang to collapse back down, Danny beamed. Score! He'd gotten four of the things, one each for himself, Ellie, Sam, and Tucker. He didn't think Jazz would mind not getting a vigilante throwing weapon as a souvenir. She usually used the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick or the Boo-Staff, having been mostly banned from long-range weaponry on account of her inheriting Dad's aim...
Shuddering, Danny banished the memories accompanied by that thought in favor of the last item. Looking it over, it seemed like an airpod? Did he grab one half of Batman's headpho-... Oh, Ancients that was a communicator! Could they track it? Who was he kidding, of *course* they could track it!
Freaking out juuuust a little, Danny stuffed everything else into his pockets, grabbed the comm unit, and high tailed it, phasing through walls and floors in his hurry to get back to the room.
Once there he dove for his luggage, pulling out the Thermos he'd brought along just in case, and dumped the ear piece in before locking it down.
There. Heaving a sigh of relief, Danny slumped down against the side of the bed he'd claimed when they first checked in. The ecto-shielding on the Thermos should block any incoming or outgoing signals until he could get Tucker to look at it and make sure no one could trace the comm back to him.
Wincing against the light as the bedside lamp on the other side of the room flared to life, he saw Jazz squinting at him fuzzily, one hand on the Anti-Creep Stick propped up on wall beside the bed. "Danny? Izzat you?"
"Yeah, Jazz, it's just me. I just got back, sorry for waking you. I'm gunna wash up and head to bed. You can go back to sleep." Danny felt bad that he'd woken Jazz up after she'd had a long day helping set up the Fenton convention booth and gently riding herd on their parents' over enthusiastic responses to the other 'ghost hunters'.
"Okay Danny, glad you're back safe. Night," Jazz mumbled as she turned out the light and laid back down. Danny smiled at her softly before turning to gather his things. It had been a good night, if more eventful than he had planned when he first went out exploring.
Batman had traced the comm unit's signal to one of the larger, more popular hotels in the area before the strangely fluctuating signal had cut out entirely.
Inspecting the roof, he caught sight of a dim glow. Kneeling down, he collected what looked to be a few drops of fresh blood with a swab kit. It appeared that whoever had taken his gear had rested here for a bit before leaving again, possibly to check what all they had taken, then finding and disabling the comm unit. He hoped they hadn't injured themselves too badly, probably on the batarangs, if it was indeed their blood he'd found.
The dimly glowing sticker, still on its backing paper with a drop of blood on the corner, caught half under an air conditioning unit, pointed to it being the same person. Picking it up, Batman inspected it for a moment before dropping it into a separate evidence bag. He'd put both samples through analysis back at the cave.
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@mygood-bitch99 @stargazer-luna @easily-broken-by-emotion @dolfay @britcision @cyber-geist @is-this-even-relatable @alcorbearson @fisticuffsatapplebees @thegatorsgoose @my-mom-calls-me-rat @some-rotten-nest @crystalqueertea @meira-3919 @wandererofthestars @seraphinedemort @bjurnberg @blep-23 @stargirl1331 @bianca-hooks123 @addie-lover-of-stories @pickleking8 @iconicanemone @sarina-elais @mur-ururu @sailor-goddess @dragonfirefeather @nutcase8691 @ravenpainter
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vampy-doll · 2 months
Text
Dark!Yandere!Bucky : Rehoming
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Headcannon: Dark!Yandere!Bucky x Reader
Masterlist
Words: 1.9k
TW: 18+, kidnapping, stalking, drugging, kinda somno, if I’m missing any lmk!
A/N: I made this post awhile ago and decided to finally write it. I love the Bucky and Alpine plot and originally I wasn’t going to have the cat be alpine but it fit so I said fuck it. This was written, edited, and posted from my phone so if it’s janky go fuck yourself.
You are responsible for your own media consumption. By continuing reading you confirm you are 18+, I do not give permission to have any of my work reposted or translated on any other platform even if you give credit
It took Bucky a while to finally get the courage to take you, or as he preferred to say it, rehome you.
He didn’t mean to get so invested in you it just happened.
He liked running, the burning feeling in his lungs, people wondering how he was able to run so fast unaware of who or what he was. He liked running in the rain particularly, no one else was out in the park or on the streets.
He relocated to outside the city but not too far from civilization. He ran three miles from his home, one mile towards the city on the sidewalks past hipster boutiques and antique book stores, businesses flourishing from gentrification, to the park with a four-mile hiking trail loop, and then back the way he came. Sometimes he stopped to get an overpriced coffee and danish from a coffee shop on his way back.
Bucky had made his run all the way to the park when the rain got too heavy and he could barely see in front of him so he made the choice to turn around and go home. On his way back, he saw you, you holding your hand above your eyes trying to see through the downpour when you stepped onto the crosswalk and an oncoming car hadn’t stopped in time for the red light.
He didn’t even think twice about it, he bolted to you pulling you from the car’s path and to safety.
You barely had time to thank the strange man before Bucky ran from the scene, leaving you soaked yet safe on the sidewalk. You thought you’d never see him again, never tell him how grateful you were that he saved your life.
After his shower, the news channel played as background noise in his lonely home (he didn’t like the silence) when you came on the screen. A two-minute news cap about a local woman being saved by a mysterious stranger from a driver whose car had begun to lose control. you referred to him as your guardian Angel. Bucky was anything but that. “Whoever you are, thank you. I owe you my life”
You were so reckless, he thought, he just HAD to follow you, to make sure you were safe. Over the next week, he found everything he needed to know just by the news anchor including your name in the report. This generation was so careless with what they put online or that you didn’t use a VPN so he found your IP address immediately. He learned where you lived, where you worked, where you grew up, old medical records, parking tickets, your parent’s names, your sibling's names, you needed to be protected. Don’t you know the kind of sickos that are out in the world??
Before he knew it you became his every waking thought. He watched the live-stream footage from the cameras he had set up around your home like it was a TV show. You lived alone, with a small white cat as your roommate, Bucky was thankful you didn’t have a dog that could wake you up in the night when he was feeling adventurous enough to watch you sleep in person. You were messy, he’d have to correct that, you didn’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, you weren’t overly close with your family, and your parents lived four hours away. You were lonely, like him. You needed each other.
Bucky spent the next two weeks preparing for you. His basement was small, the only thing down there was his washer and dryer and a small bathroom that the last owners put in, they likely used the basement as a spare room but that’s what made his home perfect for you.
He bought rugs for the cold concrete floors, he was hoping by the time winter came you’d be adjusted enough that he could trust to have you upstairs. He had a nice woman help him at the furniture store and made up some unnecessary and elaborate story about how his girlfriend was moving in with him but all the furniture she had belonged to her roomate so you didn’t have anything.
You smiled when you opened your front door to see a gift basket with a bottle of wine on your doorstep with a note.
“We just moved in down the hall, we’re the Barnes’. Enjoy this gift basket and we hope to become close friends.”
Likely an older couple, you told yourself. You didn’t even know one of the apartments on your floor was for sale but with the way the housing market was, you weren’t surprised that it had slipped under your radar. You didn’t see your other four neighbors having similar packages on their doorsteps but maybe they’d already noticed theirs and brought them in before you had.
Parked on the street outside your apartment, Bucky watched you on his phone from the security camera stream. He couldn’t contain his excitement while you drank the wine he had left you and how pretty you looked unconscious on your couch after the sedatives kicked in.
Bucky truly could not recall a time in his long life he’d been nervous like this. He changed your clothes when he brought you home with him, a short white lace nightgown and he hesitantly slid a matching pair of panties up your thighs. He didn’t want you to feel exposed or embarrassed and he didn’t want to lose control while you weren’t awake yet. Instead, he just smelled your hair and your smooth skin and the panties he switched you out from as he stood above you and made himself quickly cum to hold him over for the time being.
He paced the room for what felt like hours but it was only about 45 minutes since he brought you to the basement, only 10 minutes to get your unconscious body in and out of the back of his car and he lived 15 minutes from your apartment.
He managed to doze off in the loveseat he’d bought with your new furniture only awaking at the sound of your restraints jingling. He jumped from his seat, his heart pounding as he watched you begin to wake.
When your dazed eyes met his from across the room it sobered you up quickly and you shot up from where you lay. “What the fuck!” Your voice was hoarse as you tried to shuffle to the furthest corner of the bed to try to get away from him but the chains attached to your ankle and one of your wrists made your venture nearly impossible.
“I’d like for you to stay calm, I know a lot is happening but those meds were strong, if you get yourself too worked up you could faint.” He held his arms out as if approaching a wandering bear deep within the woods. His eyes couldn’t help but focus on the heaving of your chest, your breasts sinfully evident through the nightgown he’d chosen for you for that reason.
Bucky was glad he got himself off before you woke up because the site of your pretty tears and the peaks of your breasts sticking through the silky white fabric like snow would’ve been too much for him to handle and he would’ve lost control.
“You’re the guy who…” you cringed as you tried to speak, your throat burning and dry. Bucky reached over to the mini fridge he also left down there grabbing a chill water bottle. “You pulled me from the street.” He set the plastic water bottle on the edge of the bed before retreating to his place trying to give you as much space as possible. “Did you drug this one too?”
“No, I promise, open it it’s still sealed.” He swore. You played a brief moment of contemplation before snatching the water bottle. You were too thirsty to not take it. “I pulled you from the street that day, I haven’t stopped thinking about you ever since.”
“It’s been over a month.” You parted your lips from the half-empty water bottle. “Where am I? What’s your name?”
“My name is James…But everyone calls me Bucky.” It felt foreign to introduce himself to you after how close he’d grown to you even if you weren’t aware. “Well, I already know your name so I guess it’s fine you finally know mine.”
A sob broke from your lips and he just wanted to hold you in his arms till you stopped crying. “I know this is a lot to take in but I promise I won’t hurt you…at least not anymore.”
His attempt at comfort only made you cry harder. He forgot his lack of human interaction had him forever in a loop of social unawareness.
You stuttered and put a list of worries to yourself in between your cries. “What about my job? And my family? And my car? And my apartment? And my rent?”
He tried to interrupt and console all your fears and that he’d take care of everything.
“Oh god, my cat!” You gasped. “Did you hurt her? She’s not used to being alone for so long!”
Your cat…The one thing he didn’t take care of.
The finicky creature often hid from him during his visits, every now and then she’d try to investigate his presence but his trips were often short to keep from getting caught.
“Please don’t let her starve! I can give you my sister’s address and you can leave her outside the door or even take her to a shelter, please I’ll do anything you want just don’t let my cat die!”
Anything? He thought manically to himself. “I’ll make you a deal.” He started and you hung on to his every word. “I’ll let you get your cat here as long as you behave yourself. No fighting and she’ll get to stay with you down here.”
“Please, sir!” You begged eagerly. “I swear I’ll be good, I won't try anything just please, please let me have her, her name is Alpine!”
Bucky was going to get your cat regardless of your accidental admission of desperation but now he got to use it to his advantage.
It was surprisingly much easier to get your cat to come with him. After missing her dinner she practically crawled in his arms as soon as he filled her bowl.
He never had a pet before, only stray alley cats he used to feed when he was younger. His excitement for your arrival already filled him enough but now he was getting to bring home his first pet even going a little too overboard with toys at the pet store.
You began to cry again as Alpine jumped out of his arms and curled up next to you still on the bed. “Thank you, Bucky. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“I bought you something too.” He grabbed the pet store bag from the floor.
In his hand, he held a baby pink collar with a little matching bow and bell. “Don’t worry,” he said, watching your face flood with horror. “It’s for Alpine.”
He pulled another collar from the bag, one much larger and able to fit a human. “But I got you one to match. Now, why don’t you show me just how grateful you are that you get to keep her…”
A/N: this could never be my cat bc as I’m writing this shes yelling for no reason
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pablitogavii · 10 months
Text
Friendly
Summary: You're Gavi's best childhood friend and you go tot he club with him and some of his friends. He made it clear that you are just his friend, but when he sees the attention you start receiving from everyone..his mind changes ;)
Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Reader
Warnings: smutty ;))
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"Ready, pecas?" Pablo was always using that nickname, since we were little niños, because he was always so intrigued by the freckles decorating the bridge of my nose to my cheeks. Anyways, he came to pick me up with his car and we were going out to a newly opened bar in town with a group of his friends.
"Mhm! Vale!" I got in and he certainly checked out my quite short black shorts and a crop top that showed my flat stomach. I always wondered weather he found me attractive but I gave up when I heard him say to his friends when they asked if I was his girl "Imposible! She is like mi hermanita tíos!" which always ruined my mood when I thought about it!
When we arrived, the loud group in front of the door greeted us and all of Pablo's friends (including the taken ones) complimented on my look tonight. I thought Pablo was too busy joking around with Pedri to notice, but little did I know, he heard every word that made him very much angry!
"Damn Gavi! Your amiga is quite a bombon!" Araujo whispered to him and Pablo looked towards you chatting with some girls at the bar shaking his head although secretly thinking the same thing.
Your ass looked so delicious in that tight shorts..and not to mention the braless crop top that was driving him absolutely crazy!
"Bombon? Tu eres loco tío! Ella es tan joven" Pablo said always acting 'tough' cause he was two years older that you..big deal! That didn't mean he could order you about which he always tried to do!
As hours passed, and you had more drinks with your girlfriends, music started to take over your body and you were dancing like there was no tomorrow.
"Es caliente!!" Rafa smirked whispering into Pablo's ear knowing that would annoy him especially when you were dancing with your ass glued to another guy who hand his arms around your waist.
"Joder!" Pablo groaned putting his drink down and walking towards you angrily. He grabbed your wrist pulling you away from the guy and he crowd all the way outside where was freezing btw.
"Ow! Que haces gilipollas!?" you were angry but still so cute when you tried to yell at him especially being so short and adorable regardless of your mood.
"You're drinking anything people give you! And you are grinding your ass against some fucking stranger!? What are you doing pecas!?" he was angry as well as he let go off your arm but still not letting you go back inside.
"Que es un problema!? You're not mi novio Gavi! I can drink what I want and I can dance with whoever I want!" you spat and now he was even angrier clenching his jaw repeatedly. He wishes he was your novio and could teach you a lesson right now..
"But I brought you here which means I am responsible to make sure you're safe pecas!" he said and to that you smirked feeling quite confident tonight (probably from the alcohol) as you moved closer to him rubbing up and down his strong biceps.
"Are you sure that's the problem here Pablito?" you said teasingly and he was fighting back an urge to throw you in the backset of his Maserati and show you just what his problem was at the moment. But then he reminded himself that you were his best friend, that he doesn't want to lose you and therefore couldn't mess up your life.
"Vamos, I'm taking you home.." he said but you were definitely not about to do that especially when you were having such a blast tonight. You pulled away from his grasp and he groaned in annoyance.
"If you don't want to honestly tell me what the problem is then I won't do what you say! Capullo!" you winked walked back inside while he groaned running his hand through his hair before getting inside himself re-joining his friends while you continued to dance on your own this time.
"Why don't you just admit you want her tío? Es obvio!" Pedri bugged him but when Pablo saw that you were kissing someone and walking outside with him the heat in his veins intensified from anger.
"Es demasiado tarde.." Pablo sighed walking out this time determined to take you home even if he was to carry you into the car himself. He was done with this party and he was especially done watching you with other people!
As he looked around for you, he found the same guy from the inside sitting on the hood of his car while you stood in between his legs kissing his lips.
"Gilipollas! Tienes tu culo en mi coche!" he said and the guy looked at him with big eyes of course recognizing him from the Camp Nou pitch while ungluing his hands from your waist.
"Pablo Gavi..I'm so sorry tío" he said walking away from you which made you angry as you looked at Pablo who watched as he left before finally looking back down at you.
"Stop scaring away everyone who comes near me!" you said and he walked closer until your thighs his his car and you sat on the hood looking up into his dark eyes once more. He was no longer your sweet and protective friend Pablo..no..he was angry..and lustful in this moment.
"Que haces?" you say when he slowly touched your thighs opening them up and standing in between them while tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
"You said you wanted to know what my problem is..honestly?" he said moving even closer as his hands rested on my thighs and his nose was touching mine.
"S..si" your voice was shaking and your cheeks were bright red while looking into his dark eyes longingly.
"I don't mind you wearing something that makes your ass be the sole focus of the night..but I do mind that I can't grab it and make todos los gilipollas see that it's mine.." he started and you felt goosebumps appear on your skin while his cold fingers traced your thigh and his nose moved against yours.
"I don't mind your dirty dance but as long as it's against me.." he whispered into your ear licking it after wards and you couldn't help the moan that left your lips in response.
"And I don't mind that you want to make-out on top of my car..but I want you to do it only with me!" he whispered into your other ear licking it again before his large hand grabbed your neck and pulled you close kissing your lips feverishly which made you moan into his mouth as you kissed passionately.
"Pecas.." he whispered against your lips after pulling away and you smiled opening your eyes and snaking your arms around his neck while playing with the end of his hair.
"Take me home amor.." you smiled snaking your legs around his waist with a shy smile and he smirked kissing your lips again knowing that he finally got what he craved for such a long time...;))
I like this story :)
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nexusnyx · 1 year
Text
Lost The Game
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SUMMARY: The explanation your mind settled for was that whoever lived under that mask, also lived somewhere close by. It explained the first time you found him limping and bleeding on an alley, and it explains how you evolved into his personal caretaker for the wounds and afflictions of Spider-Man’s after battle consequences.
The only thing it doesn’t explain, however, is why through the thick and convoluted webs of your strange situationship, a certain tension has built between you two. Palpable. Physical. As electric as some of his tales, and as dangerous as he is.
The tension between you and Spidey grows, and it grows, and it grows. One day, it snaps.
⚠️ Minors DNI. Smut.  Explicit depictions of sex. | 🏷️ 8.3K , fluff, established relationship, part three of three, reposting this ‘cause some people missed this one and asked for it.
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• PART TWO •
In his world, there was no Avengers.
The bad thing about his inter-dimensional trip he had was this—Peter got an idea of what other worlds looked like and parts of him wished for a supernatural helping hand, sometimes, or maybe just someone who understood him. He had allies, but very few friends on this side of his life. This is why when Peter is almost killed by Kingpin, a decision that he's been dreading for months becomes easy in the snap of a finger.
Do I drop the last vail or do I not?
All of his excuses as to why not fly out of the window when Peter's bleeding to death and realizes that none of it matters. All of life is dangerous, on this or any other planet, and if he's always putting his own damn life — personal or not — at risk for the sake of saving a city, he might as well do that and let the woman he loves kiss him with the lights on while he's at it.
He swallows the metallic and thick taste of red in his mouth, reaches his trembling hand up, and knocks.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap.
"Peter?"
The fright in your voice is what startles his eyes open.
"Peter!"
God, he loves your voice so much.
A lot less when it drips in worry like this, but the love is there nonetheless.
"Peter, open your eyes. What—oh my god," you choke on your words, and he feels you pulling his body inside your room.
Guiding himself by memory, Peter helps the way he can, letting his body slide down your bed.
"Gonna get your sheets dirty," he mumbles.
"Oh, for the love of god." There's the feeling of his suit being unzipped at the back, and even through the fogginess, Peter notices how your hands are cold. Shaking. "Peter, what happened?" It's a breathless whisper, and it makes his chest ache more than the bruises did because it sounds so small, and nothing about you is diminutive.
"Kin—ow—Kingpin." The ruthless man's minions might still be stuck in webs hung meters above the ground, but Wilson, Kingpin, that man needs no henchmen to do any damage. It was the point he had to prove today—more to Matt than to Peter, but because Peter had decided to help, he got mingled in the mess.
After a heartbeat, he hears. "Who's Matt?" you ask.
Wait—was Peter talking out loud?
"Oh, god," this time, it's a choked-up sob. "Peter, I think you have a concussion."
Y/n is going to be a doctor, so the probabilities of her being right are very high. He probably does have something on his head—Kingpin grabbed Peter's head in his hand, that enormous, gigantic hand that engulfed all of Peter's skull and smashed it against the nearest thing, which happened to be iron polls.
He's still unsure of what the tension and underlying secret were between that man and Matt, but there was so much anger in there tonight.
"Peter..."
He feels weak, but he still has some strength left and Peter had made up his mind before he arrived at the staircases of your apartment.
If he went to the hospital, Aunt May would have a heart attack.
If he came to you, Peter would have to let you see him.
With the taste of blood polluting every inch of his mouth, it was a surprisingly easy decision to make.
He ignores the strain and the pull on the sides of his body as he reaches up for the mask, and he hears you gasp when he pulls it off in a clean sweep.
"Peter."
"Hey. That's me." He can't laugh right now — or open his right eye that much — but he can smile at you. A weak, bloody thing. At least it's an honest one. "Hi. I think I might blackout."
"Peter," are you crying? Good gods, Peter would clock himself on the face if someone else hadn't beaten him to the punch. "I don't—I don't know if I can take care of all of this."
"It's just—the one on the back. I think I'm losin' lots of blood 'cause of it..."
"What's on your back?"
"Open gunshot wound closed with webs?"
"Peter!"
"I didn't sh... shoot it, baby." He knew she'd be mad the second he threw the webs at himself. "The rest will... it'll fade. Soon."
There's a moment of silence where Peter hears rapid, short breaths. He opens his left eye as much as he can as sees you breathing in through your nose and out of your mouth quickly, then feels the bed dipping when you leave it with purpose. He knows you're going for the first-aid kit, so he already does the job of turning around.
When he hears your footsteps coming back, the last thing he hears is what makes him smile against your duvet.
"I'll take care of you. It's okay. It's gonna be fine, Peter."
While he's aware you're hyping yourself up to believe it more than talking to him, the words are like anesthetic all over his body.
Peter inhales the scent that is acutely yours, and blacks out.
If he were anyone else, Peter would remember close to nothing of his hours alternating between consciousness and not.
Lucky for him, he's part spider.
At first, all he feels, sees, and hears, are small tidbits of you moving things in and around him.
There's the distinct — and nasty — feeling of a needle threading with nylon through his lower upper back.
During that moment, nothing else passes through.
He's distantly aware of your mumbling and whispering, the soft and comforting words not reaching his ears, but the sense they bring drape over his skin almost like a blanket.
Then, when he has a silver of consciousness again, he recognizes through the stinging pain and the dull, throbbing aches all over his body, that the heat he registers is not of his own blood anymore, but of your warm hands along with a warm towel washing him.
That's when he allows sleep to come for the first time.
He wakes up somewhere in the middle of the day judging by the light streaming through your window, and he's happy to access that his body's doing most of the healing by now.
The feeling of a gaping hole is gone, and so is the smell of blood.
Peter wants to look around a bit, but while the throbbing has passed, it's left a dull, sore ache in its place.
You're not there, either.
He knows that because Peter's spidey senses have almost a direct link to you, and you're not in the room.
It takes him a couple of minutes with the taste of sand at the back of his throat and that pounding on the back of his head for him to realize he can open his eyes.
There's a glass of water right next to him, and he smiles.
Of course you'd do that.
Even after he's ruined your nice duvets — after promising he'd never spill blood on your blankets again, shit — Peter still gets the kindest side of you.
And then he remembers—you saw his face.
The lights were on, he was a mess, and fuck—you saw him.
You saw him and saved his life, one more time.
How many times would you have to do it?
Why was his life so dangerous?
Peter's stomach starts to resemble something alive, something with tentacles and it's reaching up, so he swallows it back down.
After gulping the glass of water, he hears it.
Distant sounds of conversation.
Felicity's voice is what registers first. It's not as familiar to him as yours is right now, but it is the reason it brought him to you in the first place, even if Peter hates thinking about that. He ignores your roommate and the things he keeps hidden from you like most people would ignore a spider in the upper corner of their bathroom.
It hurts to try to hear the conversation.
The gun blasted too close to his ear, and Peter's not the biggest at eavesdropping, so he just lets his upper body lay down again and allows the darkness on the corners of his mind to take over the rest.
Next, there are the hours in-between.
As the sun goes down, Peter drifts between the land of dreams and this one, enjoying both of them very much.
In here, there's you with a warm, wet cloth cleaning his wounds that need tending, and in his dreams, there's you sitting next to a blond girl, smiling at him.
At some point, Peter opens his eyes and sees you sitting on your chair in front of your computer desk.
Your eyes widen and you slide the chair closer, looking at every inch of his face with furrowed eyebrows.
"Peter," it's the softest you've ever said his name. "Is there anyone you'd like me to text? About your whereabouts?"
Aunt May.
"You can go back to sleep right after, but you came without your backpack, and it's been almost a day—do you want some pain medicine? I can get it for you."
He nods.
You nod back, then get up and exit the room. Peter takes the opportunity to grab the notepad you have on your nightstand, write down Aunt May's phone number and name and a message underneath it.
I'm at Y/n's. Be back soon, aunt May. Love you <3
It's an ugly scribble, but your handwriting is far worse than anything he could dream of producing, so he sits back against your headboard and waits for you and the pills.
When you come back with them, Peter almost swallows it down without the water, but he's still so damn thirsty that another glass goes in a gulp.
He feels your eyes on him the whole time, and while he wants to talk, he prefers to wait for his body to finish using all his strength in stitching his insides up before he tries any conversation.
You grab the glass from his hand, place it on the nightstand and sit on the bed right next to him.
"Are you cold?" You ask, pressing your palm and the back of your hand to his forehead, neck, cheeks.
He's shirtless. Well—it's not anything you haven't seen before.
He shakes his head and clears his throat. The desert has left the back of his mouth, but the aftertaste of rust is still there.
"I'm sorry." He can say that, at least. "I am really sorry, Y/n. For coming to you like th—"
A hand tapes his mouth shut—your hand, and looking at your face in the bedroom light knowing you're looking back at his is not as terrifying as he made it out to be in the countless scenarios where he thought about this before.
"What's the alternative?" You ask him with a shrug. "You bleed out on the street because some drug lord had some beef with a Matt dude and you tried to help your friend?" He misses the heat of your hand as soon as it's gone. "I prefer you bleed on my death start duvets than on the streets, buddy. These ones I can wash."
Buddy.
'Don't call me buddy—I'm not your buddy. Fuck, I swear you say these things just to get a rise out of me. Do your buddies do this, huh? Touch you like this? Make you this wet? You get so wet for me, baby—'
'Peter.'
'Yeah, exactly. I taught you my name for a reason. Don't forget that.'
After a heartbeat, Peter licks his dry lips and looks away from yours. Those memories make his blood rate rise, and he's sure that's not good in the state he's still in. "I'm still not your buddy," he says. His voice comes out raspy, and he watches your gaze dropping from his eyes to his lips.
Peter's in love.
The way you look at him.
The way you look at his tall and graceless body already drove him insane, but the way you look at his face?
Parted lips and that distance gaze of someone who's getting lost in memories and the present?
Peter loves it. He's been in love with you, but seeing the softness and adoration mixing with desire on your face has put the cherry on the cake.
"Good to know that," you whisper back.
I'm happy to know this doesn't change things, he hears.
He scoffs. "I would suck at being your buddy."
"Yeah? Why's that?" You're smiling now, and as a reflex, so is he.
Peter frowns. Isn't it obvious? "I've bled on your bed more times than I can count, you've put your fingers inside me in more ways than you can count, and I'm pretty sure that if I tried to stay away from you, your lips, or that pretty brain of yours for longer than two weeks, I'd have withdrawal symptoms." He's sure of it, actually. He tried staying away from you, and it sucked. "I can't be your buddy, baby." He chuckles. "We're not meant to be buddies. I already explained that to you."
Your lips quiver, moving upwards in a smile, slowly.
"Right." The way you bite on the bottom lower one tells Peter all you need to know about where your mind went.
His body leans forward as if there's a magnetic poll right on the center of you pulling you towards him.
Unfortunately for him, he's still healing from a very big pound.
He makes it only a few centimeters away from the headboard before the muscles inside him sting like a sharp hook and he stops—"Ah."
"Don't move." You're on in an instant. A comforting — and silently demanding — hand on his bicep, scooching closer to him in the bed. "You still need... I don't know how much longer you need, actually." A chuckle. "I still haven't got a clue how your healing works, Spidey. Just... lay down. Stand still until you're not moving won't rip apart the stitches I so beautifully made, 'kay?"
That brings Peter's hand and eyes to the work at hand.
He inspects the stitch-up work and—you're right. It's beautiful, neat, and professional work.
He can almost hear the praises of your teachers during class, as well as the envious looks of your colleagues who have three times less practice than you in the matter.
(Truth be told, Peter's aware you'd have gotten to this point with or without him as a guinea pig because while you may feel or say like everything around you is collapsing, studying is a ball you've yet to let it drop. You do it and do it well. 'If I'm gonna do this, I might as well do it well, huh? you had told him. Peter believed a lot of it was innate talent, but he might be biased to speak of you.)
"Grade A work, Y/l/n."
"Thanks, Spidey."
When he looks up, Peter takes a punch to the chest.
There you are, looking at him again.
Damn.
He's frozen.
Have you lied to him all this time? He's pretty sure this is the effect of actual superpowers and not just the way your eyes glint under the light of the day.
It must have something to do with the frizz in your hair that gives you almost an angelic aura—there's gold, orange, a touch of pink and lilac touching your cheeks and the soft, dopey smile you have on your face, and Peter stands there with his hand hanging halfway to his lap, as frozen in the air as he is looking at you looking at him.
You can see him, and Peter has never felt more comfortable feeling this exposed.
This vulnerable.
"Hi," he whispers.
Instead of answering, your blinks seem to slow down in time.
One of your hands reaches up to his cheek, and Peter finds himself leaning towards the hand.
Magnets.
When the soft, velvety touch of your palm meets his dry skin, Peter takes in a deep breath.
Closes his eyes.
Your hand cups his cheek, and caresses his face, as slowly as you are breathing.
Then, Peter's spidey senses feel the vibrations and electricity on your skin inching closer, and he thinks the slow-motion of your delicate, almost afraid, and calculated moves are making the energy and waves that travel between your body and his twice as real.
He might get shocked.
Peter feels when your lips are mere inches away from his. He wants to dive in, but he lets you dip your fingers in the water and go as you want.
He can feel how much you're feeling right now.
Seeing him is not only affecting him, and that's perhaps why his body is rendered at your mercy.
When your lips press against his, they're as plump and tender as always.
He exhales, at last, enjoying the sensation of warmth that spreads through his body when yours connects to his in any intimate way. Usually, it takes a little bit more for the tingle to travel from head to toe like this, but something about the kiss and the way you're keeping still and yet he knows you feel it, just as he does, it makes it even better that he's all buzzing.
Peter's underwater, and it's almost a reflex when he exhales and presses harder.
Closer.
With abandon, Peter lets his body relax on yours, not wanting to push it any further than it can go, but wanting to melt against the welcoming and familiar heat of your body.
His right hand goes up to your hair, and he gets a few more soft, tender presses of your lips on his, as well as the sensual and slow drags of your mouth against his in between them before you move your head back a few inches, still keeping your hand on his face.
Peter swallows the knot in his throat.
"I... should get you food," you whisper.
He's too busy staring at how pink your lips are for a few seconds.
Eventually, he hums. "That'd be nice."
"I got soup." You lick your lips. There's a color on your cheeks, and Peter is definitely in trouble. He hasn't gotten the instinct to draw in a long time, yet here he is, trying to figure out what's the correct shade of your cheeks. "From the deli shop you like."
"Oh." He loves that place. "I love that place!" He whispers excitedly.
Your smile widens. "I know." With a quick, delicious peck of goodbye, you get up from the bed in one quick motion. "I'll be back. I'm gonna text," you pick up the paper from the nightstand and read it. "Aunt May. Wait—you want me to text her this? Will she know who I am? Aunt May knows me?"
Peter laughs. "Of course Aunt May knows you."
In your few blinks Peter sees the surprise. "Right." You turn around sharply, cheeks pulled up from the smiling. "Text. Soup. Then sleep. I gotta go run a few errands, so I'll shut the windows for you." More seriously, you add. "You should really get some rest. You look a bit... pale."
"It's the caucasian in me."
You snort. "God, it's horrible when you try to be funny."
"Yet, you're smiling."
"At you." You get up and regardless of what you say, the nose scrunch proves that Peter amused you, to say the least. "I'm gonna get your food. Stay put, Spidey boy."
"Man, Spider-Man."
He's arguing now more for the sake of your smile than because your 'boy' has gotten a rise out of him.
It used to.
The first time you said it, Peter recalled the tingling on his body and that desire to correct—not a boy, I'm a man, you'll see, I'll show you.
Did he feel silly two seconds afterward correcting you when he saw in your face that you'd be pulling his metaphorical pigtails? Maybe. Luckily for him, the mask hid it back then.
Now, it's just a skit between you two.
The teasing back and forth is almost like the sea tide.
You come back with the soup and sit back down on your desktop chair, returning to your books and papers while he eats. Peter recalls the day when he asked why you never eat when he's there and, on the occasion when you gave him food, why didn't you stay close to him while he ate.
'You're distracting when you're eating.' You had said.
'What? I'm distracting? How?'
'You make all these little noises when you're enjoying it. And your lips get super pink 'cause you keep licking them. It's distracting.'
'From what? You're not even doing anything.'
'I don't need to be doing something. It just... is.'
Later, he realized it was distracting because it made you want to kiss him. To take away the plate in his hands and replace it with your body instead.
He's content to share looks with you over the bowl of warm food and watch your profile as you read and type. The concentrated crease in your brows and your lips set in a firm line are distracting too, he thinks, but he enjoys it.
Peter finishes the food and the result of some protein, carbs and nutrients making their way inside him is instant—his eyes get heavier, and blinking is a bit harder, and all he wanted was to cuddle you. Slide under the blanket, say goodbye to the world.
It's when he lowers the bottom half of his body that Peter feels he's still wearing his suit.
"How come you haven't kicked me out of your bed yet? I'm gross," he says.
Even though his voice is softer and lower than before, you turn to him.
Smiling, you shrug. "I've been gross before. You're forgiven because of circumstances." Then, something happens—you blush. You were looking at his body before but when you look up, Peter recognizes the flash of 'oh, it's him' that passes fast as lightning in your eyes. "Also, you're pretty," you add in a whisper. Your peachy cheeks darken, looking good enough to eat. "Pretty privileges."
Peter feels it—the heat on his face. He laughs, ducking his head down. He's not used to people complimenting him like that, but coming from you it makes it three times worse. "So it is a real thing."
"Oh, it definitely is."
"Good to know." He hates to know he's making your small piece of safe haven dirty, but he'll make up for it. "As much as I'd love to stay awake and watch you study and be gorgeous for the next couple of hours, I think my brain's about to shut down in the next few minutes."
"Sleep, Spidey." If there's such thing as magic through the voice or words, Peter believes you have it. The gentle softness with which you say those two words are better than any of your blankets. "I'll be there soon."
That's even better. God, I love sleeping with you.
He hears a giggle.
"It's mutual, Peter."
He loves the sound of that, too.
If Peter believed in something, he'd have beautiful religious metaphors to use about the way you look in the mornings.
He'd maybe talk about how waking up with you next to him is the only sanctuary he needs, and for a Jewish boy who's missed so much of what one looks or sounds like, he's sure it felt something like this.
If Peter believed, he'd have more words to say about the way your tenderness makes him feel like he's holy.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better."
"Good. I'm glad... d'you wanna take a shower? I can separate some clothes for you."
"Are you coming with me?"
Peter would have words for what it feels like to sit in your loft's bathroom in his bloodied, mended superhero suit, his feet touching the freezing cold floor and his body still running as hot as ever because he can hear you walking around the place in your fuzzy socks while you wait for the water to warm.
How can he be so at peace like this?
He's beaten himself up for much less, but the seriousness in your tone when you told him to stay put while you changed the sheets only made him warm.
It made him feel cared for and nothing more.
Peter removes the rest of his suit. It comes off with difficulty—the sweat's stuck the material to his skin, and it still hurts to move, but he manages.
He feels the fresh tissues inside of him.
His heightened senses tell him the main wound is still healing, but everything else is almost okay. Peter needs maybe a good meal and a couple more days to be brand new, which is more than he'd expected when he left the bay area with webs sticking his skin together.
When you come back and see him already naked, Peter's happy that his eyes' swelling has done down.
He'd hate to miss the lust in your gaze.
To miss the obvious way your eyes travel up and down his body.
"You could've gone inside already," you whisper.
It's barely nine in the morning, there are only you two in the place and Peter has no idea why you'd think he wants to go anywhere without you.
"Was waiting for you." He's more at ease sitting naked on your toilet than he's been in three, maybe four years. That means something, right?
You start taking off your pajamas, and Peter gets up to help.
Not that you need it. He just loves removing clothes from your body.
The steam takes over the bathroom and by the time you two are immersed underneath the water, wet as rain, Peter already feels new.
Not even the best prayers could do that.
He loves the showerhead here because the water pressure is great and it's big enough to almost give space to the two of you. Almost.
That's why he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to his body.
He wants your warmth much more than the water's.
That's when he feels it—the shaky, interrupted way you breathe. Your arms come up around his middle so fast that he almost has to take a step back to keep himself in place, but he's rooted there.
And you're crying.
"Y/n?" Peter looks down.
You shake your head in three quick motions. Not yet.
Peter's not an idiot, and while he may be a little slow to the mysteries of his own heart, the loud and physical thumping of your heart against his ribcage is right there and doesn't lie.
He can feel every beat of it, and maybe there was something in that container that Kingpin had dropped on his head and all that mysterious blue sand inside of it, but Peter's sure he can see the black clouds exiting your head.
He sees the darkness of worry and fear leaving you.
Peter clings on tighter, letting you cry silent tears into his chest. He hopes the kisses he presses on your temple and your face make any worries left to be gone easier. Quicker.
He kisses the parts he can reach of you, and refuses to let go.
Eventually, you pull back against the hold of his arms and when you look up with those swollen, red eyes, Peter realizes what it all means.
What being so comfortable around you, laughing so easily, coming to you many more times even though he knew he shouldn't, watching you sleep, and all those minors or big things that made him stop and go—it means something, right?
It means Aunt May was right.
She was right when she said the world goes on regardless of how much we want it to stop sometimes, and right now, Peter's world is you.
When your lips, trembling just like your chin is, open and say, "I was terrified," in a whispered confession, Peter knows.
He'd give up anything for you. He'd conquer anything for you, as well, which he imagines lives on the other side of that coin.
"I am so sorry, baby," he tells you, blinking through the sting in his own eyes.
You shake your head and his heart almost falls to the ground before you pick it up. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Pete. I know—" you swallow a visible knot, sniffle, and then try again. "You have a responsibility. With your power, and... with what you believe."
With great power, comes great responsibility.
He nods.
"And please don't take this wrongly—don't shut down, or stop coming. God—if you stop coming I swear I'll die of worry—"
"Y/n." He interrupts because he knows when you're about to spiral as much as you know when he's about to go on a ramble. "I'd never. I—you're allowed to be scared. I'm not gonna go into martyr mode and make that decision for you. If you want me gone, I'll be gone. I know I'm a lot. I know my life, and how scary it is to be around it, but I think I also know you and if I take away your choice of being around me and all my mess—" he shakes his head. "I don't fancy that ass-whooping."
You laugh.
It untangles all the messy knots and webs inside his chest that formed when he saw your eyes puffy, and Peter breathes in what feels like clean, fresh air.
"I'm happy you're smart," you say.
He shrugs his shoulders. "It's what my teachers say."
"Is it?"
With your head tilt, he notices—he's nearing territory he used to avoid before.
Peter breathes in again, reaches behind him in the shower, and grabs your shampoo.
"Can I do your hair?" he asks.
Your face remains the same as you nod, but he sees you breathing out. Accepting his silence. The change in subjects, as it usually is.
When he's got enough bubbles forming, he massages your scalp and starts. "I got a scholarship for Biophysics, so I guess I am pretty smart, but it wasn't 'till one of my teachers at ESU told me my paper was 'informative even through the minors detours it took, which funnily enough, were informative as well' that I knew I had a good head for more than just web-developing and stuff like that."
Should he tell you about the time when he traveled between Universes and met the other versions of him?
He'd love for you to know how clever Peter 1 is.
Peter knows if it weren't for that experience, exactly four years after what happened at the clock, he'd be in a much worse place now.
I wouldn't have met you, he thinks.
"What d'you wanna do with the degree?" you ask him.
"Mmm. I don't know yet. Working with genetic mutation is not too on the nose, is it?" he chuckles.
You turn around, smiling wider than ever before.
"Are you for real?" you laugh.
"I am!" He laughs too.
"Gimme that," you take the shampoo from his hand, pour some on your hand, and look up expectantly at him. Peter ducks his head in silent permission, and you start doing the same to him. "I think that while it's a bit on the nose, it also makes a lot of sense, and given your personal experience, you could make breakthroughs no one else would. Your circumstances give you a lot of room."
"My dad was a Biochemist." The information slips out, and Peter opens his eyes. When had I closed them? He gives you a sheepish smile, and closes his eyes again. "I lot of what I know came from his research."
"Did it have anything to do with spiders?" you ask with a giggle, thinking you're being funny.
Here's to hoping. "It did," he answers.
Your movements halt for a second, then start again. "Oh." You stay silent for a moment. "Big brain runs in the family, so I imagine you'll make breakthroughs he's only dreamt of. Just... make sure you pick an area 'cause it's what you want to make yourself happy, you know?"
Peter wonders how many people have the luxury of having someone care for them this way.
"I will." He smiles when you pull him under the water stream. When the shampoo is rinsed, he opens his eyes. "And you? D'you have an area you wanna work at?"
Hearing you talk about your hopes for the future while showering makes Peter notice it's the first he's been thinking about the future and what paths he could take for it.
You two laugh a lot in there, and the only moment when somberness takes over the steamy bathroom is when your fingertips graze over the black nylon that still peaks out of his lower stomach.
Peter ignores the tingle your touch brings, and kisses you instead.
He distracts you by asking you more about residency, school, tests, and anything that comes to mind.
Your voice is one of his favorite things.
In your bedroom, Peter gets dressed in the sweats that now are basically his—one of his designated clothes from when he's around.
Now though, he can wear the sweater and shake his wet hair all over you.
He can pull you to his lap on the bed and kiss you filthy with the sun shining on both of you.
Lights on, face out in the open, nothing to hide because there never was.
When he starts grinding his hips upwards, seeking the friction of your heat—and god, you're already burning on his lap, and he doesn't need to touch your panties to know that you barely put them on and he's already ruined them—but you stop him with a hand around his neck.
"You're gonna bust your stitches," you say, mouth still close to his.
He groans. "Baby, c'mon..."
You shake your head, laughing under your breath. "As much as I want to, you'll have to wait a day more, buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you."
"You're hurting me right now," he whines, grinding on you. He hisses, not because of how hard he is from just a few minutes of making out with you and having his mind spin with how good you smell, how dizzying it makes him have you like this, no barriers whatsoever, but because he feels his insides protesting with the sharper thrust.
You give him a look that says I know what you're hiding. "Peter." While you ask him to stop, Peter's yet to feel you stop enjoying the ministrations of his hips. "Hey," you lean in closer and whisper in his ear. "You can enjoy fucking me like you've never fucked me before now... and you're gonna waste that first time of ours by not being able to do all that you wanna do?"
You are evil.
Peter moans. Hides his face in the space between your boobs, and kisses them since he's there already.
"So what you're telling me is that I should take you for a coffee and some breakfast and a few days and then we can come back here?" he asks.
"Yeah," you smile.
"And then I can take my time with you?" he confirms, his kisses going up. He loves the column of your throat. Loves the way you bear your neck for him, breathless and surrendered every time.
"Yeah..." this one comes out breathier, and Peter smiles before sucking on the skin of the space that's really sensitive.
"I can make you cum in all the ways I like?" Peter knows it's just torture at this point, but he keeps doing it. Keeps moving his hips in small little circles, and groans when he feels you meeting his movements. "On my tongue first... then on my fingers..."
"Only if you let me suck you off 'till you cum in my mouth."
Sneaky. "No." Peter hears your brain gears halting at it.
"Peter!"
"No!" He laughs. "Listen, I don't know what my—"
"—if you call your cum something weird again I'm leaving your lap right now."
"...my semen."
"Ugh. That's somehow worse," you laugh.
"I don't know what's in it! It's mutated, okay? What if you get pregnant from it? I am very fast. My sperm can be too."
Holding yourself with your arms around his neck, you stare at him with the blankest look.
The smile obviously hidden in the corners of your lips is where the truth lies, though.
"You know I'm right," he shrugs his shoulders.
You sigh. Heavily. "Ugh. I hate that I'm paranoid enough to buy your bullshit," you push him backward hard, and he falls into the bed in surprise, laughing. Leaning forward, you cage your arms around his head. "I wanna do so much to you," you whisper.
Just like that, the temperature's closer to the Sun again.
You have powers.
The power to make him religious. To make a conversation shift between the Sun and the Moon, just by laughing or speaking in a different tone.
Peter feels the tip of his cock dripping in his boxer, and he closes his eyes, exhaling from his nose. He grabs you by the neck and pulls you to a kiss, which turns messy and needy the second you moan in that pretty way he loves. Like a kitty, or like someone's squeezing you hard, just the way you like it.
He's grabbing you by the neck, squeezing and letting go, trying to gather his damn thoughts into coherent sentences and not the mess of I want you so bad I love you so much, so all that he can do is rub his forehead on yours.
Bring your body as close to his as possible.
That's what happened.
All these months culminated in this—Peter being unable to stay away, to him smiling in the corridors of his college, to the unfathomable infatuation with your legs, or the way you snort when you laugh really hard.
Into him loving you.
He's suddenly overwhelmed by the truth of it:
Peter is in love with you. He loves you.
Loves you for your brain, your skilled hands, the way you hate the Giants and love music he's never heard of. Loves you for all the ways you're you and the ways you remind him of his very first love too, but more than anything, because he knows he'd love you even if nothing was similar.
He swallows the knot in his throat and pulls you to a kiss.
You feel the difference in it—he knows you do because you hold his face with gentle hands, but answer the kiss with the same devotion.
You let him take over the kiss, let him taste his tongue on yours until he's got no oxygen left in his lungs and has to pull back.
He sees it in your face that something's taken over you, too.
"You can do anything you want. Anytime," he says. He feels your legs clenching around his waist as a response, and thinks to the hell with it. "What if you did all the work, hm? I promise I'll stay still. I'll web my own wrists to the bed if you want, just—please?" he begs.
"Peter..."
"I wanna feel you, baby." It's not even about the sex, or about cumming. It's about being as close to you as possible. He needs to be as close to you as possible. "I just wanna feel you. Wanna be inside you." Peter grabs your face again, smashing his lips on yours. "D'you have any idea how fucked I'd be without you? It just—" he's barely breathing, and he knows you feel why. "I realized just how much I adore every goddamn inch of you and I wanna feel you." He kisses you again, and again. "I owe you my life, baby."
You shake your head at his words and Peter moves his hand down to your chin, holding it still.
"Yes, I do. And I love that," he smiles. "I fell in the best hands of this city... and your hands are just one of the reasons why I'm in love with you."
"Peter." This time, it's you who smashes your mouth on his.
The first time he heard his name coming out from your lips, he thought he'd cum on the spot. He remembers feeling his dick twitching inside of you just at the mention of it—his name, and you.
He loved it.
He lets you kiss him to your desire and when you pull back with those puffy lips, he smiles.
You're looking at him like one looks at something they barely believe it's true. He's seen looks like this a few weeks ago when he went to the museum with May and he saw people staring at what he assumes is their favorite art pieces—nothing but attention to detail and a shine in their eyes.
He feels naked, even though he's not.
"I've been in love with you since the day you told me you had glass shrapnel all over your body because Mrs. Levinson was gonna take the fall for Castle's collateral damage, Y/n, I couldn't have that." You shrug like it's easy, like you haven't just given him the present of a lifetime and stolen every last bit of anxiety and sadness he had hidden in the corners of his mind, then kisses him.
Softly press your lips on his, once, then twice.
When he feels your hands sliding down his body, Peter warms up.
Powerful. From Moon to Sun, there he goes again.
There his body goes.
Peter knows standing still will be a bit of torture, and everything will be heightened from how little he can move, but he's okay with that.
Whining under the ministrations of your hands might be one of his top three activities ever. Peter watches you get off from on top of him so you can take off your sweatpants, and he groans under his breath when you slide your leg over his waist again with the panties still on.
"Just slide it to the side—fuck. Yeah, like that, baby. I love it like this."
Your attention to detail is unmatched.
When you learn something he likes, you never let it go. As soon as Peter feels your hand slipping inside his boxer and getting his cock out there, he's already moaning.
"Stand still," you tell him.
He nods, eagerly. Peter watches you pull your panties to the side, guide the head of his dick to your entrance and when the tip slides in, he feels you coming back, caging him between your arms.
You slide down painfully slow, taking your time with it.
To have something to hold on to, he grabs your ass with one hand and your face with the other. Having his hands on you is a must if he's gonna be good for you.
He might've said he could web his hands to the bed, but if he did that, he'd have to web his hips as well.
"Ahhh." Peter feels the walls of your pussy clenching around him, and he closes his eyes at the feeling.
You move back up, then down again until you're fully seated on his lap and he's fully buried inside of you.
"Use me, baby," he tells you. He might be out of his mind already—has it always been this hot to be inside you? "Fuck—you're always so wet for me. How are you this wet—oh."
You slam your hips down, pulling a grunt from him.
"You make me this way and you know it," you whine to him.
Peter admires you for keeping up with a gym routine, but he admires more the benefits it reaps: the way your legs can hold the weight of bouncing up and down as slow or as fast as you like.
He pulls your head closer until he can kiss you.
"You're gonna use me, hm?" Peter asks between kisses, grunting at how tight you are. "Use those thunder thighs to drive me insane?"
"Peter you feel so fucking good," you breathe out.
The praise warms him up even further. Peter's eyes close in response, and he whines at how hard it is to keep his hips on the bed and not pistoning up to meet your delicious thrusts. "You feel better," he mutters, a bit drunk on the wetness pouring out of you. It's so damn hot in and all around him. "So tight for me, baby."
"Oh, god."
"Hhnh—fuck. Fuck, do that again," he whines.
You do it—you move all the way up until he almost slips out, then slams those hips down again. And again, and again, and again, until the room is nothing but the sound of your skins slapping on one another and your mouths breathing on each other, grunting and moaning.
Peter loves swallowing your moans almost as much as he loves swallowing the slick from your pussy.
"Fuck, if I had a little bit more strength in me I'd ask you to sit on my face after this," he says.
You moan even louder now.
Peter smiles.
He loves it when you two are alone. Loves when you let go, especially if it's to use him to your pleasure.
Peter holds your hip instead of your ass now and tries to help you. While you don't need it, the strength of even just one of his arms is appreciated, and he watches as you let go of all pretenses and just fuck yourself on his cock.
It's when you grab him by the chin and look him in the eye that Peter feels you're fucking him too.
You clench around him. Purposely.
Peter moans as loud as you, and plants his feet on the bed.
The change in angle makes you scream, and as a response, you smash your lips on his again.
He knows you're close by the way you start whining into the kiss.
Peter lets go, too. He kisses you back, all tongue, teeth, bites and moans of your name. Uncoherent sentences and babbles about your pussy and how fucking good you make him feel, and he feels the tension building up in his groins before he'd imagine.
He hates coming before you. Peter makes it a habit to make you cum before he does, but he's in heaven, he's in you, and you're staring at him.
It's that which does it.
"Baby I can't hold it—oh fuck, Y/n, don't do that," if you keep clenching around him just to get a rise of him you'll get more than just that, and he whines because of it. "I'm close. I'm so so close, you feel too good."
He moves his hand from your head in direction of your clit, but you grab him by the wrist and pin his arm above his head, holding tight onto his wrist. While he could break free easier than breathing, feeling how tightly you're gripping him makes his head spin.
He's at your mercy, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
"Y/n, please." Please stop bouncing so fast, please slow down, baby, please don't clench again.
Your hips slow down just a fraction, and you move until your lips are almost touching his.
Then you ask. "Who has your heart, baby?"
Peter blinks, opening his eyes. His mouth hangs open, jaw wide for a second before he answers. "You."
You move your hips in the way a dancer would, circling like you're trying to spell his damn name or something, and then slam all the way down. "You're mine, baby?"
Peter's head is somewhere too far for him to reach, but he still manages to nod. "All yours."
"I love you so fucking much," you cry on his lips, and then you start again—the merciless speed of your hips against his while your hand holds his arm up and your other is on his neck.
"I love you more," Peter cries back, reaching for a kiss that you give with all the desire in the world. He kind of wants his hand free to hold your face, and kind of wants to see how much you'd fight him to stand still, but neither one happens because you start to speed up and Peter's moans grow louder and louder.
Being as attracted as you are by his sounds, your legs start shaking and squeezing around him.
"Cum for me, Y/n, please, please, please," before I lose it and cum inside you, please.
"Cum inside me first."
"What?"
"Cum in me." You sound as out of it as he is, and Peter's only human at the end of the day. "Please. Do it. Do it, Peter. I wanna feel you. Please, Spidey, c'mon."
Peter cums with a yell, and his hips can't take it, bucking up to meet your thrusts in the last seconds, and it must be the strength with which he fucks into you, the angle, the way he's crying out your name or just everything together, but you cum right with him.
Both of your bodies shake and tremble together, in a peculiar and hard-to-achieve glorious moment.
He'll need many minutes to recover, and you'll need even more to gather the strength and will to let him come out from inside of you, but none of that matters for the time being.
Peter's content to stay inside you for now, just as you are to lay on his chest.
He lets the sound of your hearts beating like hummingbirds bring him back to Earth.
There's a smile on his face, and with minimum inspection, he feels there's a smile resting on his shoulder, too. Your lips press kisses on the exposed skin there, and he feels your grin when the kisses stop.
Peter's not a very religious man, but he might have just found his heaven on Earth.
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nicxl333 · 7 months
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MEINE LIEBE, MEINE SCHÖNHEIT, MEINE LIEBE— MICHAEL KAISER X READER
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warnings: suggestive content, fluff, implied sex
cross posted on wattpad
i actually don’t know why it’s taken me this long to write about kaiser, i fucking love this man *moans*
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love was a concept kaiser could not understand nor wished to get involved with. he believed love clashed with his ideals to escape from noel noa's shadow therefore dissociating from the norm that he is second best where noa is concerned. in other words;
love would only hold him back.
well, at least that's what he thought before you came along.
it all started when he was out shopping with ness, picking out over expensive items he did not necessarily need but bought anyways to feed into his swelling ego as well as affirming within himself that if 'he can he will'.
he had chanced upon a clothing shop with a shirt that caught his eye, wanting to look at it briefly at a closer angle. while the shirt wasn't over appealing to him, he had no reason to not buy it, considering how rich he is. he started filtering through, selecting the right size, giving it to ness to hold and heading towards the counter. just as they was approaching the queue, he lightly clashed into something in front of him, looking down with increasing displeasure at whoever weren't looking at where the fuck they were going, seeing an extremely beautiful woman rubbing her shoulder. he didn't speak at first, allowing his anger to simmer. he didn't need to anyways, not when ness was present and apparently feeling more offended than kaiser himself who was actually hit.
"oi, watch where you're going you idiot. you just hit the Michael Kaiser!"
what they didn't anticipate however was you having the ability to stand up for yourself.
you took an airpod out of your ear, giving the most aggravated side eye both football players had ever seen.
"first off, i would watch who the fuck you're talking to. i don't care if his name is michael or fucking joey, i will not be disrespected by a pair of strangers when i clearly bumped into you by accident. you didn't even give me time to breathe, let alone apologise, which i won't be doing now for the record."
although stunned, kaiser was somewhat intrigued at your reaction. although he likes annoying people and baiting reactions, this was truly one of the few times he had actually been knocked down a peg in retaliation. he wanted to know more about you.
"damn. feisty."
"i'll show you fucking feisty if you want."
ness stood there, solemnly humbled and out of commission to spout any other bullshit from his mouth, while kaiser was stunned into temporal silence.
"whatever, leave me alone you freaks."
you turned to walk up to the cashier desk, letting the sales assistant scan your clothes items. they gave you the price and you reached into your purse to take your card. a hand beat you to it however, a beep resounding from the card machine. you looked up to see a tattooed hand retracing back to the owner's side, holding a black card. he looked to you with a sly grin.
"what, am i supposed to be impressed?" you quizzed with a raised brow.
well damn.
it was clear to kaiser that you were different from other women, who were always easily impressed by money.
"just an apology for how my friend acted towards you, meine liebe."
you ignored him and took the now bagged clothes from the sales assistant, muttering a word of thanks while turning back to the duo, opening your wallet.
"i don't wanna owe you anything, so how much was it? i didn't see the price."
"aht, aht, that's between me and my bank account now. although if you truly must repay me, how about dinner tonight?"
ness' eyes nearly popped out of his head with seething jealousy that kaiser was diverting his attention elsewhere. he wouldn't say that to him though, he valued his life and would prefer to not be embarrassingly degraded in public again.
you gave a calculated stare at kaiser in slight shock, not expecting the once hostile environment to transition towards one of romance.
you pinched the bridge of your nose, slowly inhaling before opening your eyes.
"if it'll get you to leave me alone then fine."
you held your hand out for his phone, which he placed in your palm, quickly typing in your number and saving a name. you promptly returned it back to him, to which he looked at the details.
hot girl from store
he looked back up, only seeing where you previously stood, now vacated. he smirked to himself in amusement.
• six months later •
it's safe to say in the time he had gotten to know you, he swiftly became enamoured. although you protested countless of times, he would make sure to take you to upscale restaurants, don you with high end clothing. jewels, diamonds, shoes, dresses, you name it, he bought it. you only had to be remotely interested in the item you were looking at to find it at your doorstep the next day. and don't get you started on the way he loved you during the night. he always made sure you were satisfied before he was.
it's safe to say you had him wrapped around your finger. don't think that's it's a bad thing, but what really had kaiser keening for you was the interest you had for him as a person, not for who he was. you were probably the only person who treated him as a human being and not just a notorious football player. you allowed him to be himself around you. and he valued you immensely for that.
in the six months you had been dating each of you treated the other equally as well. although you requested for the relationship to stay secret for the meantime, he never gave you less of his love. it got to the stage where he couldn't imagine doing anything without you.
it just so happened that one night while watching a movie on his couch he couldn't hold himself back anymore.
you head was laid on his lap, stroking his thigh while he stroked your hip. your face was illuminated by the soft glow emanating from the tv and you just looked so damn beautiful.
he didn't intend for it to happen, but he couldn't stop the words from slipping out.
"i love you."
your head rose slightly, making sure you weren't tweaking and he actually professed his love to you.
his face was alarmingly red and he was looking anywhere but you in the moment, having grown shy. you sat up from his lap opting to sit on him instead, wrapping your legs and arms around him, placing your head in the crook of his neck and giving a light peck, moving to whisper in his ear.
"i love you too handsome."
he turned his head catching your lips in a heated passionate kiss, quickly incorporating his tongue into the mix, tasting the salt from the chips you were eating during the movie. it quickly escalated, your hands threading into his blonde and blue locks, gripping them and pulling slightly, to which he moaned into your mouth.
he reached his limit, and so did you . he lifted your body and lay you down on the couch, taking off his shirt and caging you in with his arms.
"i'm about to show you how much i love you meine schönheit."
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comicalfont · 1 month
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Undertale is for Everyone
Happy Valentine's Day! Yesterday marked five years since the day I first started playing Undertale. It's led me to dwell on what exactly I would say the game has meant to me, with how loaded a question that is. There's so much I owe to Undertale, and the joy it's brought me is something everyone is as deserving to be a part of. Despite some recent fandom events, all members of the fandom need to know that the game celebrates and welcomes them with open arms, which I'll get to more in a bit.
I first played Undertale at a period in my life with a lot of unanswered questions, both for present me and future me. I'd managed to not give it a try in the first few years it was around, but after running into enough Deltarune fan content in the wild when it came out, I played Chapter 1 and loved every bit of the atmosphere and characters, and I wanted to play Undertale right after. After accidentally killing Toriel and starting over, I was immediately drawn into the story it told and the friendships I was making. My appreciation of Sans was there from the start, and here I am, many reader fics with him later, and the rest of the main gang felt like buds I'd been hoping to meet some day. Even the minor characters meant so much to the journey, and by the time it was done and I'd seen what Frisk/the player's kindness and want for peace can do, I was completely hooked and the game rented a free condo in my brain.
What I wasn't expecting was the other ways Undertale's touched my life. I'm trans, and before I'd played, it had only really been associated with discomfort and a wish for things to be better, without much of a light at the end of the tunnel to look at. Undertale's queer-friendly themes and the characters' insistence on being themselves opened me up to thinking about a future where my own kindness and, well, determination can lead me to being the true me. While my trans story was far from done, it helped me see the future as something I can smile about, rather than needing to be afraid. The fics that I've written about Undertale, and especially the bone-friend, since I played have also led me to meet the people I consider my closest friends, as well as being a gateway to other fandoms that have captured my interest. These connections I've made through the game are ones I'll carry with me for the rest of my life.
So, where am I going with all this? Undertale has invited me into a better path than the one I'd been taking, and that's an opportunity I'll forever be grateful for. Unfortunately, there are some in the fandom space who have shared hateful views about people simply for who they are, and everyone should know how far those views are from the truth. Undertale is a game about love and growth, and it is the responsibility of those who participate in its community to follow its footsteps and celebrate everyone for their traits; not just tolerate, but celebrate. For fellow trans people in particular, I've been thinking about this the most; you are real men, real women, and real non-binary identities, and all of those things are represented in Undertale itself. Celebrating trans lives isn't just the right thing to do, it's a part of this wonderful game we're all enjoying together.
Maybe this reaches just two people, or twenty, or more if I'm lucky, but whoever does read this far, thank you for taking the time to see how much Undertale has meant to me over these five years, and I hope you know how much you mean to the community. We're all making it a better place by being ourselves, and I hope the game keeps lifting people up for many years to come. Now, go read that new volume of the Undertale/Deltarune Newsletter!
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grugruel · 6 months
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The Game
Pairing: Silco x f!reader
Masterlist
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Summary: You and Silco like to keep things interesting by playing a game. Its your turn now, heat flares and tempers rise.
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings: Established relationship, hints of smut, brief choking, mentioned degrading, tension? Elutions to sub!dom!silco towards the end.
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I throw the doors to The Last Drop open, making my grand entrance.
Smoke billows out through the opening, it curls around my vision as it mixes with the impure air of Zaun and all heads in the club turn toward me.
An uscher of whispers rumble through the crowd and the music suddenly halts. A mans low whistle can be heard ringing out through the crowd, aswell as the consequent "ow" and "hush" as the man next to him elbows him in the side, giving him a stern look in warning.
I was off limits to everyone but one man, and that was considered common knowledge in Zaun.
I take a step inside, smiling devilishly, approving of the general public reaction.
I let the doors slam shut behind me, welcoming the familiar embrace of the murky, green tinted darkness of the club as it envelopes me. I gaze around the room, searching for him.
I am counting on him to be in his office already, as It was a crucial part of my plan for dramatic effect. And when married to a man like him, one couldnt help but look for him in every room you enter.
All that im met with though, is an array of mixed emotions, smiles, glances and a bunch of wide eyed men and women. The crowd was divided between those who, had they not know was good for them, would hollar and applaud my confidence or those who would be scared half to death and couldnt even dare throw a glance my way.
Most bastards, however. Had already let their slack-jawed chins hit the floor at the first sight of me, and oh . . . was I a vision to behold.
Everyone already knew who I was of course, my antics were not news to them, neither were the fact that I am wife to the infamouse Eye of Zaun.
So to explain the situation, Silco and I ha'd been playing a fun little game for some time, just to spice things up. We set two rules of outmost importance, no matter what, we had to follow them.
1. Prizes asked for must be given.
2. Revenge is always permitted.
Meaning whoever manages to outdo the others previous actions in boldness, audacity, mischief etc, wins whatever prize they desire from the other and whatever we did to challenge the other, we could always retaliate however we wanted and those asks had to be met
Usually when it was Silcos turn, he'd experiment, try something new, take me in the hall, in an alley, where anyone could see. Just for the thrill if it, because we can, because who would question him?
But as of late, work has been stressing him and hes been using me. He makes a public display out of me, showing everyone just who I belong to. A power play, of course, reinforcing his claim on me and putting on a show of his brazen nature as for Zaun not to forget who he is.
And he'd do it all with a ravenous gleam in his eye, enjoying every second of my embaressment. But god help any man who makes a remark or even looks at you the wrong way.
And since he has a reputation to uphold, an image to keep clean, being the crimeboss that he is, I had never been allowed to play our game in any type of crowded setting. He needed to be respected and more imporantly, feared. Meaning he could not be put into conpromising positions publicly. Privately was a whole nother situation.
But today, that would be coming to an end. I'd been forced to accept the situation since this whole thing came about, but he needed a reminder of who he married. Although I do not have as important of a position as him, my life did not begin when we married. I was someone before him and I am my own person still.
Blinded by love, and lust. I've let him do whatever he wants to me and although that can be a welcome notion betwix the sheets, it is not when he needs to make an example of someone, not anymore.
Sevika stood leaned against the stairrailings, watching my plan unfold, eyes wide. She sprung into action, ripping the jacket off the shoulders from the unsuspecting man next to her and rushes to cover me up.
She knows you're not the kind of woman who listens to anyone who tells you what to do, with the exception being Silco. And knowing she'd get hell from the man himself if she did anything else than try, she tries.
I reject the jacket of course, gently pushing her away from me. I clasp my hands behind me back and walk slowly towards the bar with her shadowing closely behind me in hope of hiding something from the crowd.
She lowers her head to my height, leaning closer to my ear, a shudder runs through me "He wont be happy" she snarles.
"I know" I answer nonchalantly. And a ghost of a smile flashes over her lips as she shakes her head and turns around, sighing.
I sit down on one of the stools by the bar, watching her as she makes her way upstairs. I order a whiskey and take a look around the room once again, noting all the stares.
"Cmon folks, he'll be down in a minute and you know better than to stare. Get back to it." I say in a low chuckle and they do just that, knowing the truth of my words.
Minutes later Sevika comes back down, she throws me a warning glance that tells me "not in the mood" and a new feeling begins to fester within me, uncertainty. I already knew he'd be cross when I schemed my little plan up, that was foreseen. But now?
I had no time to think of the consequences, because another set of footsteps could be heard a few paces behind her, slow and deliberate. He was already punishing me and I've yet to lay my eyes on him. My stumache flitters despite myself, longing to see how this plays out. Turbulence was to be excpected, but the rewards would be gratifying.
The crowd seems to have heard the destinctive sounds of Silcos footsteps aswell, as their attention turn toward the stairs.
Through the gloom of the lowly lit, smoke filled room, the glowing red of his cigar lights up his features, giving an earie glow to his eye. He looks mightly unimpressed, inhaling a puff of smoke his eyes scan the crowd, eventually settling on my form. Clad in nothing more than the crimson red lingerie that he bought me. He was already incredibly annoyed that you would compromise him like this, but seeing you in the set that he stressed were for his eyes only truly set him ablaze on the inside.
I swiwel the barstool so that I face him completley, the bartender slides my drink toward me and I grab it as I lean back against the bar, forearms supporting me. A pleased expressions washes over my face, this was a serious matter. But I should gloat whilst I still can.
He glares at me for a minute, the club is so silent you could hear peoples breathing, very shallow, careful breaths as they try to avoid catching his attention and possibly turning his displeasure onto themselves.
He takes in my appearance, looking me up and down. Sevika had not known the ordeal of this specific set of lingerie, so she had not conveyed its importance to him.
His patience usually wears thin, but seeing me in the lingerie he clearly told me were for him makes his blood boil.
Turbulence stirs within him, feeling incredible annoyance at your clear disobediance, but also a tinge of impatience to punish you especially since you did look brutally ravishing.
And as if his hair sences his stress, a greying strand of his magnificent hair falls over his eye. He sighs deeply, gathering himself before taking action, he catches the runaway strand by combing his free hand through his hair, placing it perfectly back with the rest.
He moves the hand holding his cigar, wafting it back and forth dismissively as he turns toward the people, adressing them "Avert you eyes ladies and gentlemen, that is my wife." he orders.
"Go ahead, leave, scram, flee." He makes a dramatic shooing gesture and announciates the last word, then taking another drag of his cigar.
He turns to Sevika "Make sure they understand that they did not see anything, then leave you too. No one is to be let in." she nods and posts herself by the door.
The people flock toward the exit, creating a bottleneck effect. Carefully, eagerly even, they follow Silcos directions reinforced by Sevika. They did not need to be told twice, they had already forcibly forgotten the incident and had no intention on stickning around to challenge his temper.
As the last of the crowd have left and the doors slam shut behind Sevika, its only the two of us left, so I stand to make my way to him.
"Stay." Silco says coldly, eyes snapping to me. A shiver runs through my body, I sit back down, crossing my legs, anticipation lining my senses as I smile at him.
We hold eachothers gaze "I missed you" I say.
"So I see" he responds, striding closer, one painstakingly slow step at a time and when hes finally close enough to touch I reach out to him, taking the lining of his tie between my fingers, softly tracing it down his chest, stopping at his vest button to undo it.
He snatches my wrist, holding it closer to him, inhaling the scent of my perfume, loving the way it mixes with the cigar smoke. He kisses my wrist before pinning it to the bar-counter behind me.
Not so easily discouraged, I lean closer to him in an atempt to steal a kiss off of those ruthless lips. I let my eyes fall shut and lean further in until I feel his breath on my skin as I've done so many times before. Heat flashes through me as I imagine the taste of him being less than a mere second away, but my expectations fall short as im met by the the savour of his cigar instead.
"Tsk tsk tsk" he shakes his head "Surely you wouldnt dream it to be this easy my dear?" His tone mocking.
I scoff in pretend defeat as I take the cigar from him, taking a drag and leaning back against the counter again. "I was only teaching you a lesson, husband." I sigh.
"Oh" he exclaims, his demeanor unclear. A mix of entertainment and frustration evidens in his voice "You're teaching me a lesson hmm?" His gaze hardens and an frustrated smile forms on his lips as he awaits my response.
"Naturally."
A gleam of irritation lights in his eye, he takes the whiskey from my hand, studying it carefully as if planning his next move. He takes a slow sip, "So.." he begins, carefully phrasing his words, "Would you like to tell me how come? Because frankly, my dear. Im at a loss here." Agitation evident in his tone.
"Truly?" I question, not sure if he actually wants me to answer that. "I love this little game of ours, it can be... Oh so thrilling" I sigh in reminiscence, thinking back to past adventurez when we've enjoyed eachothers rueful challenges.
"But I do not enjoy to be used as someones puppet, not even yours. You've turned this wonderful game of ours into a show of your power, using me. So, I wanted to teach you a lesson." I repeated myself, nonchalantly.
His gaze bores into my own, furious at your choice of handling the situation, but even more so because theres truth in your words. "I have a reputation." He spits the last word, "How will I be respected if I cannot controll my own woman?" He asks, frustrated.
I sneer, "You forget yourself Silco." Theres venom in my tone, "I may not be known as "The Industrialist" but I have a reputation of my own and it is time I reminded you of it. Zaun will not respect you more for treating me like shit, and your blatant audacity to feel bad for yourself is sickening." I state coldly, and he knows your right, yet he cannot help how your words irk him. His face burns hot with shame.
"Ive let you degrade me in front of thousands of people, just for you to earn your power." I spit back.
"But truth be told, husband. Youre not a king, nor a god, and people will understand that you cannot control me. Ive never been know as conceded woman and I believe I have made that clear today." I fix my gaze sternly on his, making sure hes understood. He glares back, nodding.
Certain hes seen my point, I ease up. Work has taken a toll on him as of late, thats not his fault, but how he chose to counteract it is.
I lean forward again, softening my gaze as I carefully stroke his scar and whisper "You might have chosen me as your bride, but I also chose you, you know."
He sighs, closing his eyes, the anger melting away from him as he remebers you when you first met, and thinks of the woman before him now. Hes loved every version of you that hes had to pleasure to know and hes been incredibly stupid to put you in such positions for his own gain, he will simply find others to make examples of. He meets your gaze again, defeated "Im afraid my dear girl, that you're right, my behavior towards you have been appaling. You win, this time." A releaved expression covers my face as I've gotten my point across.
"However," he says soflty placing both hands on either side of my face, cupping it "That wont stop me from earning my retribution, game rules." He points out, pressing a soft kiss to my lips as a hand slides one hand to the back of my head, grabbing a fistful of my hair, earning him a moan from me.
He strokes my cheek gently with the back of his free hand, then tracing his index finger along my jaw and ending it with a tap at the sharpest point under my ear, "Everything." He says concurrently with the tap.
He strokes a strand of hair behind my ear before continuing to trace his finger down my neck, following it with his gaze, he grabs my throat, squeezing lightly as he carefully yamks me closer to him, making me gasp, "Has." he punctuates, finger tapping again, this time on my artery.
He lets go of my throat an continues to trace his finger outward along my collarbone, stopping at my shoulder, "A." He taps again. Silent anticipation linger between us, as I wonder where this'll end.
He takes the crimson brastrap between his fingers, slowly sliding it off my shoulder as he traces it down to the cup, "Price." He ends, the tension between us culminating, as he taps one last time at the soft flesh of my breast.%I shiver runs along my spine, I lean into again, his lips a ghost on mine.
"Naturally" I whisper against his lips, feeling him smile.
His hands continue downward, coming to a stop at my hips, holding me in place as if I'd ever wish to be anywhere else and melting me completely with his sudden tenderness. But his grip hardens, ready to take what is his. And as much as I would love just that, I was not done and he knew it.
"But, I've yet to claim my price. Game rules." I state, he steps back, knowing that he has to abide by the rules. His eyes shift to mine, pleading and lust battling for controll. "Cruel, cruel woman" he whimpers.
One side of him is itching to do whatever he wants to you and the other begging for you to let him touch you. And you're about to make him beg for it.
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