#Noire: man i could bite him right now-- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

themeraldee · 4 months ago

Text

The Lucky Winner - Part 2

[Masterlist] [Part 1]

18+ Only | 7.3k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 1. Voice kink (mild). Roleplay. Established Relationship. Masturbation. Dirty Talk. Unprotected sex.

Summary: After much deliberation you finally decide to meet your hero at a meet & greet.

Author’s Note: Sorry if the ending of this feels a little confusing. I did have an idea for a retrospective Part 3 of this that would cover the events in between Part 1 & 2, clearing up the confusion a little bit, let me know if you'd be interested!

The metal detector beeps, finally letting you through after the hassle of emptying your entire bag and getting a full body scan. You quickly collect your scanned belongings and you scuttle along, almost sprinting across the now-empty hallway. You’re breathing heavily, holding onto the bag over your shoulder as you reach the right door. Panicked and out of breath you show your pass to the man working the door and he just about lets you in grumbling something about it being way past the time slot and how you’re the last one in. You ignore all of it, instead you focus on your breathing and move along. You inhale sharply through your nose, trying to mask just how winded that rush got you.

You take your place as the last one in the line. Turning around just in time you see the door guy close off the room, not letting anybody else in. Phew. You just about made it. You smooth out your summer dress, adjusting the bag you had over your shoulder as you look around the hall. God, you’ll be waiting forever!

You knew it would be busy but having usually avoided convention centres it still hits you hard with how overwhelmingly packed the hall is. The ventilation and air conditioning could be state-of-the-art and it would still feel stuffy. Looking around you feel like one of the few people who didn’t bother dressing up like their favourite heroes. You see about thirty Queen Maeves at a quick glance, another twenty Black Noirs, a few of the Seven’s new member Starlight but the most prevalent one is easily a sea of Homelander knock-offs. The sea of cheap red, blue and white assaults your vision, making it actually pretty overwhelming to look around.

For once Homelander is actually drowned out in a sea of look-alikes where normally he stands out like a sore thumb in all his primary-coloured glory. Homelander. Just the thought of seeing him here makes you pick at your nails and bite your lips with anxiety. Sure, you’ve met him before. You’ve talked. You even had sex, really good sex, goddammit. You have history. But still, you’ve never done this. Not the in-public meet & greets that you decided to put yourself through today. But still, you’re doing this for him.

The longer you’re standing at the end of the line the longer being surrounded by fans dressed in Spirit Halloween versions of the Seven’s costumes is becoming less comical and more uncanny valley. You only wonder what it feels like to them.

You slowly move through the line. Sighing impatiently, your nerves are slowly being replaced by irritation as you watch the interactions play out in front of you. You’re now close enough to see and overhear. Thankfully with each step you take forward the people in front of you get what they came here for and they leave, making the hall a little more breathable.

You’re now watching Homelander as he tends to each fan, all puffed up and high energy to replicate the vision they all have of him but you see how much he wishes to be anywhere but here. Most of the Seven do. Vought plucks them from what most expected to be their duties, like saving the world, and instead they drop them in front of cameras and paying fans. You watch as Homelander signs each piece of merchandise his fans bring him, one after another with a smile on his face.

Having seen part of his real self, or the extension of himself he doesn’t show the media you see the smile for what it is. Placating, empty, downright forced. Were you none the wiser you wouldn’t have thought to look past the showmanship but now you knew better. It was easy to notice his tells, his jaw ticks anytime he’s irritated, his eye twitches anytime he has to hold a smile for too long or anytime he’s forced to compliment someone. You overhear his booming stage-voice going, ‘you look great buddy, wear it better than I do!’ for about the twentieth time. The crowd eats it up, again, and somehow they’re blind to his tortured expression. Sure, he hides it very well but if any of them cared to look underneath the surface it would be glaringly obvious. Instead they look at him like the hero they want him to be. Flawless, perfect, serving their needs. The more you’re privy to this viewpoint the more it grates on you. He’s so much more than that! And you don’t understand how they don’t see it. More than that, you're angry that they willfully don’t want to see it. Why would they ruin the image of a perfect hero they look up to when they don’t care to know the person behind the suit in the first place.

You shake your thoughts away, focusing on keeping up with the queue. Thankfully the hall has now almost emptied, few residual fans loiter around taking pictures of themselves in their costumes with the Seven members right behind them. As it’s almost your turn, and with that the end of the event, you clumsily pull out a postcard out of your bag clutching it in your hands getting it ready to be signed.

With each step you hear him clearer and clearer. Your heartbeat picks up and by the time the Homelander female cosplayer in front of you gets her very own, ‘you might as well take my spot, you pull it off better than me’, your heart is pounding so hard that you think it must grate on Homelander’s nerves. You rub the glossy paper of the postcard in between your fingers trying to distract yourself from the impending doom that’s bound to be caused by whatever comes out of your mouth. Even after all that’s happened between you two, all that history, you cannot stop yourself from feeling flustered in a situation like this.

You’re so stuck in your head that you don’t realise that the lady in front of you already left and all who’s left is…well, you.

You’re broken out of your trance by a familiar voice.

“Looky, looky, who's here? I can't believe you actually showed up at one of these.” There he goes, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he quickly looks you up and down. Already his eyes are glittering with excitement. Your heart skips a beat at his smile. It's more genuine. You see the annoyance seep out of him, his posture a little more relaxed.

“Yeah…about that. I thought I couldn't really call myself a fan otherwise right?” You rattle off some lines and your anxious mess of a gut is slowly unravelling to make room for the coil of excitement replacing it. Sure, you’re nervous. How couldn't you be. But the place is nearly empty and there isn't much he could say that would get you as flustered as he did the first time.

“Here for an autograph? The one I gave you before wasn't good enough?” Right. Scratch that. You blush a bright red as the images flood back into your mind. And he's grinning so widely, clearly pleased with how he can so easily make you into a blubbering mess. Even if someone overheard, there’s technically nothing dirty about his words but the shiver they send down your spine along with the vivid imagery is enough to make you feel indecent in a public space.

“No—no! It was, um, great. I just—uh—wanted something a little more permanent.” You quickly look around seeing if anyone caught that interaction as if they could read your mind. Well, you are in a room full of superheroes, who knows what they can or can’t do. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear like anyone is interested in Homelander signing a photo for yet another fan. The rest of the Seven is slowly filtering out of the room, finally relieved of their duty.

“Alrighty-doo, let me sign that for you.” He takes his hand out prompting you to put the postcard in his palm. You do so, giving him a little timid smile. Your hands shake a little as you retreat them back by your sides. Catching the way his eyes linger on the movement you cover your shakiness by clasping your hands together in front of you.

“Is this all you want me to sign? Did you really wait the entire line for that?” He says his eyes squinting incredulously as he waves the postcard with his likeness in front of you. Without waiting for your answers he still places it in front of him reaching for his marker pen.

“What was I meant to bring?” You scrunch your eyebrows with confusion. Sure, you weren’t used to going to these events but you still brought something he could sign, that’s good enough, is it not?

“For starters, something that my signature won’t cover entirely.”

“It’s fine if it covers it.” You brush off his concerns. Really you didn’t care about the signature as much as you cared about seeing him. So placement be damned.

You look as he uncaps the pen, turning the card around. It’s a photo of him in his hero pose standing against a very patriotic background. Originally it came in a pack of seven postcards, one for each member of the Seven. You don’t want to admit that you were so anxious over deciding whether you would even turn up or not that when it came to the day you forgot to bring an item to sign. Hence the pack of generic postcards you bought on the way when you realised that you forgot just about the most important item. This also turned out to be the reason for your tardiness, you spent way too long in the shop just angsting over the small selection of items you could even pick from.

“You know it's a real shame you of all people didn't come dressed up. I'd like to see you as Mrs Homelander.” He says all cheeky and amused at the image in his head, while he’s fiddling with his marker pen, trying to start his signature for the third time but the ink has run out.

“Oh no no no, I couldn't. I don't think it would be a good look on me. I mean nobody can rock the uniform like you do!” The idea of dressing up as him was ridiculous, you couldn’t just take that away from him. He’s more than a circus animal to you.

“You think I rock it?” He gives you a look, clearly fishing for compliments while he lets his voice rumble. He might not be in your ear but you still feel a shiver dance down your spine. You don’t think you’ll ever get over the effect his voice has on you. He just knows how to pull your strings. And what’s a puppet to do if not follow.

“It looks very good on you. The colour brings out your eyes.” You make an awkward gesture, pointing at your dress and then your eyes, as if it wasn’t obvious that those two had the same colour on him. You cringe internally but he always seems endeared by your awkwardness. You think it probably feeds his ego. You’re always such a mess in front of him and he slurps it up.

“Wowie, heavy on the flattery today are we?” He’s fiddling with his marker pen, trying to start his signature for the third time but the ink has run out. “Oh for fucks sakes.” He tries another two times, the leather of his glove creaking with pressure around the pen. You expect him to snap it in half at this point but he just sighs and recaps the used marker, placing it down. He looks around, his jaw ticking as he mumbles, “where the fuck is Ashley…” He rolls his eyes, muttering something about being surrounded by incompetent idiots as he stands up.

“Just, come with me, I think there are some spares in my dressing room.” He waves his hand, still holding the postcard in the other one.

“Are you sure? It’s really no big deal!” You feel guilty at the way his suggestion sends a shiver up your spine. You’re not entitled to it but the fantasy of him fucking you in his dressing room still plays out in your mind.

“Nope, you waited your turn. You know I’m not one to leave my biggest fans empty handed.” He winks at you before he beckons you to follow him. You give a short nod and you scurry behind him like a little duckling, mesmerized by the sway of his cape swishing with each purposeful step. You feel your heart rate rise with every step, just being in his presence is overwhelming and the closer you get to his dressing room the more vivid your fantasy gets.

“Righty-ho,” Homelander says as he opens the door to his dressing room, fiddling around to pick up a spare marker. He presses the postcard against the wall signing it for you with a silver sharpie. You stand in the half open door a little awkwardly. Rather than focusing on him, you’re looking around making sure nobody sees you standing in Homelander’s dressing room. He tears you away from your paranoid thoughts as he hands the card back to you with a sing-songy, “there you go!”

Your eyes widen and you gingerly take the postcard with a “oh, thank you,” and you gently put it back into your bag, not wanting to smear the ink. Part of you was disappointed that he genuinely took you here for innocent reasons.

Like the open book you’ve always been to him he reads your facial expressions for what they are barking a laugh at the dumb-struck look you were sporting. “What? Did you think I brought you here to fuck you?” He leans against the doorframe, his tone a little condescending and mean.

You really do your best to recover but your embarrassed blush and the spike in your heart-rate is such a blatant giveaway of your true thoughts. “N-no! I wouldn’t, of course not.” It doesn’t matter what you say in the moment, it’s not wiping the all-knowing smirk off his face.

“Jesus, you’re so easy, you know that?” His gaze is predatory as he looks you up and down again, this time slowly, reaaally taking you in. Before you know what’s happening he yanks you into the room, closing the door behind you. For all his strength he controls it well as you don’t end up with a dislocated shoulder after a move like that.

He cages you in against the door, leaning close to your ear so he can get his voice nice and low and he whispers, “For that kind of slutty behaviour I definitely need to fuck you.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. You love how easily he reads you, there’s nothing you can hide from and you know that these days, you’re his favourite book. In a way it’s liberating, it removes the thoughts behind actions, it removes the second-guessing. You know that he knows what you want. So you don’t have to make propositions and embarrass yourself further, he’s either gonna take you as he pleases or tell you to get lost. So far it’s always been the former.

His gloved hand grabs the side of your jaw as he leans back and the woodsy, natural scent of leather whiffs past your nose. His other hand is less stationary, he brazenly glides his hand down your dress, generously palming your tits before he slides down further down your waist and back, settling on your ass. “Gotta teach you a lesson that you shouldn't be spreading your legs for men you don't really know that well.” He growls out tilting your head so he’s directly staring into your eyes with his impossibly piercing blues.

“You’re not just a man.”

“Mhm you got that right.” He purrs all pleased at the obvious stroke to his ego. You’re all flustered, breathy and eager for him and he loves it. The pure adoration and love you give him so easily just flows through him, feeding that black hole starved for affection inside him.

He didn’t wait a second longer to kiss you, one gloved hand still on your jaw, the other quickly moving up to the back of your head pressing you into him. With a moan he kisses you, already acting like you’ve been starving him this entire time. His kisses are feverish, already hot hot hot as his lips ply yours open. You feel his shaky breath hot against your lips while the plush pillows of his lips are pressing against yours in a frenzy.

You wrap your hands around his neck for support more than anything. You know how he gets. Your heart rate has skyrocketed by now, beating hard and loud in his ears as he presses his tongue in between your lips, already wanting to be in you one way or another.

You part your lips for him just like you’d part your legs and you let him kiss you, heavy, hot and wet as he holds you with almost shaky hands trying to get as much as he can out of you.

His ravenous kisses don’t relax you, they make your body feel tight, wound up, always expecting and wanting more. At this moment you need him as much as he needs you. You grind your body against him with each more pressing and needy kiss. You know he can feel you through his suit, even though it’s handily hiding his hard-on. He still moans when you rub against him, clearly just as wound up as you are.

He pulls away, his eyes no longer that bright piercing blue but now his pupils are blown, his gaze lustful and heavy. His breathing is rough and stuttered. Even though he can’t get winded or tired his body is so strained that he pants for you like a thirsty dog.

Homelander takes his time to calm down, wanting to take control of the situation, he wants you to look up at him with those unsuspecting sweet wide doe eyes while he defiles you. And you do, you look up at him, panting out of actual lack of breath and you stare in reverence.

There he goes, grinning like a shark again and you’re already waiting for the foul words that he’s undoubtedly going to thoroughly wet your panties with.

“Tell me,” he purrs out, seducing you with his dulcet tones. “How many times did you make yourself cum to my voice, huh?” He’s now leaning into your ear again, knowing this is where the occasional brush of his lips makes your body burn bright and hot. “Or to the memory of my cock inside you?”

You expect him to be filthy and talk with no filter, it’s his specialty behind closed doors, but it still catches you off-guard. It especially does anytime you’re reminded of the time he utterly ruined you for any other man in your home, in your safe space, in your bed.

“I don’t know—many times. I, um, I lost count.” You don’t know exactly what answer he wants from you but you know that he will turn each and every one against you. His hair tickles the side of your face as he nuzzles into you with a small whimper before continuing.

“Yeah? Maybe you should show me, do it for me. A little performance as a reward for all that I've done for you.” You hear the restraint in his voice. You know he wants nothing more than to just fuck you, have you fall apart on him. For him. But you also know Homelander loves to play. And he doesn’t want the game to be over yet. “You can do that for me, can’t you?” He goads you with that. Homelander knows just as much as he swallows up all your love and affection; you thrive on being reminded of how much you adore and worship him. How much you’d do anything for him. Anything.

Homelander pulls back from you, his hands now firmly on your waist as if you were a flight risk.

“What do you mean?” You regain some sense of self after he gives your hot and flushed body a little break.

“I mean you’re gonna sit your pretty ass in that chair, make yourself cum for me, while I watch.” He guides your body towards the further end of the dressing room where he points at a chair in front of a lit vanity table that’s still littered with make-up and brushes from when his team got him ready for today’s event.

Your body is buzzing with excitement but part of you is still a little embarrassed by such a blatantly open display. He wants you to sit in that chair, spread your legs and give him a perfectly lit view of the way you get yourself off? Yeah, that’s not the easiest thing you’ve ever done. But again, for him, you’ll do anything.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He pulls the chair out a bit tilting his head towards it. He looks at you, blatantly undressing you with his eyes. Literally, undressing. You may not physically feel his x-ray vision but the look in his eyes and the way he stops at your tits with a leery smile on his face is very telling. He doesn’t bother to hide how much he ogles, he knows how much it turns you on anyway. “Come on, panties off and hop on.” He clicks his tongue impatiently.

You sneak your hands under your dress and pull the hem of your panties down. You slide them down your legs until they pool at your ankles where you step out of them with your shoes still on.

Homelander chuckles to himself as he picks up the undergarment inspecting the damage. “You’re like a faucet, always fucking dripping wet.” He brings them closer to his face, inspecting the pair of Homelander-themed panties. He inhales the scent of your pussy now that it’s long seeped into the fabric. “I didn’t think these would be salvageable after last time.” He speaks as if he was talking about the weather and not pure debauchery while he indulges in the scent of your cunt.

“I got more pairs.” You said with a shrug as you got into the chair. You had to jump up a little as it was set on the highest setting for Homelander’s viewing pleasure.

You watch as he tosses the panties on the vanity table in front of you. “You’re gonna have to spread those legs some more.” He tuts with his tongue. You spread your legs as wide as you can in the chair and he shakes his head. “No, nope that won’t do either. Legs up on the arm rests.” He commands and as much as you want to comply, even you have your limits.

“I’m not that flexible!” You yelp out in amusement. “Wait!” You exclaim again except this time he easily manoeuvres you around in that chair with his stupid strength and you feel like a pretzel as you’re being pushed into the right position.

He ends up hooking just one of your legs over the armrest letting you rest it against the vanity table and giving you a comfortable enough position but more importantly, giving him a great view. “See, there you go. Flexible enough.” He pulls off his gloves one by one, throwing them on the table, out of view. “Come on, show off for me,” He coos in your ear, his bare hands, hot and smooth, sliding up your legs picking up the hem of your dress on the way as he pulls it up.

You gasp at the view in front of yourself. In the lit mirror in front of you you see yourself spread wide, your pussy easily visible and glistening in the bright light. This might as well be a porn shoot with how well lit and visible all your parts are. As you instinctively start closing your legs Homelander presses your thighs down, barely putting any power into it yet you feel the unyielding strength thrumming through his fingertips.

“Don’t be shy, you know I’ve seen it all.” He tucks the skirt of your dress above your waist and behind your back. Your hand slowly slinks down to rest on the bunched up fabric of your dress.

He straightens up properly standing behind you, his hands land on your shoulders, close to your neck, squeezing softly. He watches you in the mirror. He extends his pointer finger pushing your jaw up so you look up and meet his gaze. “Keep going, spread that pretty pussy for me.” He growls in your ear as his eyes are locked on the way your fingers slide down your slit, your pointer and middle finger spreading your pussy open for him to see. “Just as I said, like a fucking faucet.” He chuckles at the sight of you drenched and dripping.

You blush at the way he’s staring so intently at your reflection. Your fingers tentatively run up and down, gathering the wetness on your fingers, bringing it up to your clit where you rub small, shy circles around it. You’re taut as a bow and struggling to relax.

“Stop thinking and start feeling.” Homelander purrs in your ear. “I know you can do this for me, can’t you?” His voice sends a hot flush down your body, and you feel your clit throb under your fingers.

“Yeah… I can.” You breathe you, closing your eyes for a second to take a deep breath. The tension slowly leaves your body as Homelander presses soft kisses down the side of your face as he leans over to your other side. You let your hand go on auto-pilot trusting it to know what to do. You suck in a sharp breath as he sucks on your jaw, giving it a little nip while you still circle your clit with a soft squelch of your slick.

“There’s my girl.” He watches as you breathe deeply, your eyes finally opening to watch as he descends more kisses down your neck. You shiver at the sensation, pressing in your fingers a little harder, at the right pressure in the right spot. You’re just about to dip lower, push a finger inside your wet, needy hole but Homelander speaks up. “Uh uh, nothing but my cock is going inside that pussy today so keep your fingers on your clit.” Your entire body prickles with heat all over at his words. He’s so brazen and upfront and no matter how many times you hear it it always makes your head spin and pussy throb.

You nod a simple ‘okay’ and only ever slide your fingers down to collect more of your own slick. Homelander is whimpering with you as if just the sight of your pussy was enough to get him off. For him, it’s intoxicating. His senses enhance the way your slick squelches loud to his ears and the scent of your pussy just makes him want to stop this little game and rail you already. Yet, he’s a patient man when he wants to be. And more so, indulging in his own desperate urge isn’t as fun as watching you submit to him first.

“Eyes open.” Homelander interrupts the thoughts and visuals in your head. Your eyes snap open and you meet his sharp gaze in the mirror. You didn’t even realise you had them closed. “What were you thinking about?” He asks, almost testing you. As if saying, you better not be straying too far from the path he wants you on.

“‘M thinking about you fucking me.” You say meekly, your fingers rubbing at a particular rhythm now that you know will get you off. Your clit is already throbbing, aching under your fingers.

“Getting a bit ahead of yourself missy, first you’ll have to cum for me.” He says nonchalantly while he pushes the strap of your dress and bra down your free arm. As much as you’ve gotten more used to functioning around him, his voice still makes you dizzy, especially when he’s a master at saying the most depraved shit.

You pause to help him get out of the other set of straps and when your arm goes up to slip out of the strap he gives your slicked fingers a little suck, tasting you with a pleased grin making you flush hot.

While you go back to rubbing your clit Homelander unclasps your bra from behind your back dropping it on the floor and he pushes your dress down, already groaning at the sight of your tits free for his eyes to feast on. He presses his hands against your tits from either side, groaning at the sensation of the plush pillows underneath his hands.

“That's a good girl, keep rubbing that clit.” He growls out an order, yet somehow he looks more frazzled than you while he's not even the one performing. “Open up,” he whispers, his voice frayed at the edges as he presses two fingers against your lips. Obediently, you open up giving them a suck and laving them with your saliva while you keep eye contact with his reflection. He moans at the raunchy display, his eyes glazing over as he pulls his fingers out. With both his hands back on your tits he pinches your nipples, overwhelming you with the different sensation of one being rubbed wet and the other dry. You whine at the sensation, your pussy throbbing with each hot breath you feel against your neck as he tucks his head against it.

He listens to your heart beat like a drum in his ear, while he gives your nipples all his love and attention. He whispers and moans sweet nothings into your ear whilst watching you rub harder and faster finding the perfect rhythm that has cascading heat climb up your spine. “Thaaat’s it, come on—fuuck—come on, you can cum for me. I know you can.” Homelander watches as your muscles tense, seeing your body just ready to snap. What really does you in is the way he’s whimpering like he’s the one getting off. It’s like he’s sharing all the pleasure you're feeling with you.

You cum with Homelander’s lips whispering against your ear as you hold your breath, your body tense until it finally gives in and you feel the wave of heat and tingling pleasure wash over you from your core to your limbs. “Ohhh god.” You finally release your breath, your chest heaving with the release.

Homelander is less impressed. Clicking his tongue again against the roof of his mouth.

“Mhm that won’t do, you can do better than that. I’ve seen you cum better than that.”

You barely have the strength to counteract his claim. This was easily one of your strongest orgasms and he’s trying to say that it was weak? Oh please. You shake your head. You know he’s just playing his little game of ‘I can do whatever the fuck I want’ so you let him.

“Come on, up you go,” He says as he pulls you up on your feet all wobbly and numb from the way you were sitting on the chair. He pushes the chair out of the way with enough force that it topples over with a bang. He bends you over the vanity table where you’re up close and personal with the mirror, watching Homelander’s reflection as he hurriedly unzips his pants pushing them halfway down his thighs.

You can’t see his cock from this angle but you’re sure it’s rock fucking hard and leaking precum with the way he’s panting like a dog in heat. He’s not even in you and he looks about three strokes away from finishing.

“God, fffuck!” He grits out through his teeth before parting his lips letting a long groan out as the tip of his cock parts your folds, immediately finding your soaked hole and pushing inside with one long slide. He huffs and puffs, his head tilted back as he keeps his eyes shut with restraint. His cock is hot and hard inside you, giving your pussy something to quiver around.

You’re overstimulated, your nerves totally fried and your body has still nowhere recovered from your performance of a lifetime but you still take him in. You push your ass towards him, whimpering yourself as you feel his hands land on your hips, holding you there. “Look at how your pussy just opens up for me. Taking me riiiight in.” Homelander’s voice is strangled and raspy as he hisses air through his teeth.

You whimper at the way his words leave you buzzing and mindless with pleasure. You prop your elbows against the table as he starts fucking you, dragging his cock agonisingly slowly at first as if he was so sensitive he was about to bust.

Thankfully that gives you some time to recover and your pussy is no longer screaming at you that it’s too much. He gives you more and more with each thrust, letting out a breathy soft moan each time he hits home. Tip to hilt on every slide.

His boots kick your legs together giving him a tighter, more pronounced feel. That’s where he really starts to pick up speed. He moves his hands up, gripping where the fabric of your dress is still bunched up as he wholeheartedly fucks into you, minding his strength of course, he gives you what you can take and not a drop more.

You’re so deliciously taken in by him that you barely remember where you are and that you reaaally shouldn’t be screaming and moaning at the top of your lungs. Against all odds, your body is still so wired up and wound up that you feel the climbing sensation prickle at your nerves, your legs quivering with each stroke.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Homelander pulls out of you unceremoniously and you whine.

“I was so close!” You pull a displeased face in the mirror, looking at his reflection.

“I know. And so does everyone on the other side of that door.” He mumbles as he picks up the panties he tossed earlier on the table except this time he balls them up stuffing them in your mouth. You protest around them, your eyes widening in shock and your body flushing with indecent heat when you get a remnant of your taste from the soaked fabric.

“I don’t need people barging in to see who’s screaming bloody fucking murder.”

He turns you around, swiftly picking you up and plopping you on top of the vanity table where you’re nicely lit from behind. “Now behave, the door’s not locked. I’d rather not have anyone see you like this. Capiche?” You nod fervently, at this point just doing anything to get him back in you.

“Good girl.” He coos as he pulls your legs up wrapping his forearms underneath your thighs, his hands gripping the sides for easy control. And just like that he slides back into you. You give muffled little sighs into the fabric of your panties as he fucks you hard against the table, making it rattle on its legs. The littered makeup and brushes were now rolling off and in some cases breaking on impact.

“You’re always so fucking worked up. Just need someone to fuck you don’t you. Poor little fangirl, so obsessed with me she doesn’t even have time to date anyone else.” He gives you a sharp grin, his canines sharp like a predator’s would be. You body flushes with embarrassment at the almost degrading comment and with the way you’re gagged and fucked you feel like Homelander’s personal toy.

He fucks you until your legs tremble in his hold and your eyes flutter shut with each press of his cock deep inside you.

He slows down with the literally mind-melting grinds of his pelvis against yours and instead he looks you straight in the eyes getting your attention. “Did you learn? Will you be good?” You nod. He takes the panties out of your mouth, leaving the now even more damp fabric back on the table.

You keep your promise and you keep mainly quiet, biting your lips shut and only letting the occasional whimper out as he strokes a particularly good spot inside you. Instead you let your body do the screaming for you. You shake and tremble around him, all tense and hot and Homelander doesn’t need to hear you scream to know that you’re close.

With your lips free again he captures them, as if he’s been starved this entire time without them. He kisses you deep and wet while he bucks into you, slowly losing his impeccable rhythm as he’s so strung out for an orgasm it’s bound to happen any second.

“Ah—I’m, uh, close…” You nearly whisper out, all strangled and needy. Homelander nods, clearly just as far gone. He lets one of your legs go, instead letting you wrap it around his waist as he places his fingers on your clit, giving you the extra push to the finish line.

He doesn’t wait for you as he cums in the next, one, two, three, strokes. But he pushes through still fucking into you while his cock pumps you full of his load. You cum immediately after, it’s more the thought than the faint feeling of him finishing inside you that just pushes you over the edge. A burst of buzzing fireworks sparks behind your eyelids as you close your eyes shut through the euphoria sinking into your bones.

You’re panting, catching your breath, moaning your residual finish in small whimpers. “Wow, that was—”

There’s a sharp knock on the door.

“Sir, you’re needed on stage in 10 minutes.” Ashley’s panicked shrill can be heard on the other side of the door and your heart stops for a second before realising it’s her. Ashley knows better than to barge into any rooms ever since Homelander’s shown interest in you.

“Oh well, there goes the afterglow.” You mumble with a tired laugh. Homelander nods quietly as he tucks himself back in, finally spent and satisfied—for the time being at least.

Homelander looks at you with fond hunger, leaning in for a soft kiss. “Yeah. Sorry I have to cut it short.” He grumbles, displeased, as he nuzzles his face in the junction of your neck.

He pulls away, reaching for your bra and passing it to you so you could make yourself presentable again.

“Tell me, did you actually leave the door unlocked?” You ask.

“No! I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this. Well. I want you out there with me, just not when you’re freshly fucked. That’s all for me.” He gives you a wide grin, unable to stop himself from peppering you with kisses, capturing your lips again hungry for them as if you’re constantly denying him air.

“Thank you for today.” He breathes hotly against your lips. “You know how to indulge me, I really didn’t think you’d turn up.” He smiles against you, caving in for another kiss.

“What wouldn’t I do for you?” You say with an amused roll to your eyes, but it’s all light-hearted. He knows you really would do anything for him.

“I haven’t found that out yet.” He rumbles all pleased as he helps you make sense of the mess he made of your dress.

“And you never will,” You beam at him, your heart pounding again but this time it’s just from that overwhelming love you have for him, the butterflies that don’t seem to ever calm down in his presence. Even though you’ve been secretly together for a couple of months ever since the fated phone call, the excitement hasn’t even begun waning yet.

“Hey, you know, you’re a really great actress. Had me sold quite a few times. Maybe I should get Vought to cast you in a movie alongside me, huh?” He grins as he picks up his gloves, pulling them over his hands again.

You have to laugh. Sure, you’ve enjoyed role-playing as the obsessed fan that you were a few months ago but it wasn’t all acting.

“I wasn’t acting! Well, obviously I did with the ‘I don’t know what’s gonna happen’ part but beyond that I was really nervous to be with you like that in a public place. You know how I get. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you publically, it’s just a huge adjustment. So… baby steps.” You finally adjust your dress though you still very much look like you just got railed.

“Come ooon, let me make you mine officially. Fuck this sneaking around. The people who need to know, know. The rest is not important.” He presents you with his sweet honeyed voice, and he’s cheating really, he knows how much it affects you.

In a way, he’s right. The people who matter at Vought know about you seeing as you’re up at his place every other day but there was something terrifying about announcing to the entire world that you were Homelander’s girlfriend. That’s nothing easy to get used to. He’s not just a celebrity. He is the celebrity. You will have to say bye-bye to the comforts of a private life. But maybe that’s all worth it for him.

“Okay. How about you go do your job and I go do mine and when you see me for dinner we can talk about it again. Sounds good?” You said as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another sweet kiss.

“Sounds good." He repeats before continuing with a fond, "I love you,” which always comes out a little strained. He’s never been able to say it without letting himself drown in the endless pool of emotions that are just swirling around inside him.

“I love you too. Now go before Ashley has a heart attack. You’re already late.” You kiss him sweetly, adjusting his hair, making it look more purposefully-tousled, less ‘sex-hair’. You let him go, smoothing your hand down his suit.

“Oh please, I’m the Homelander. Does the party really even start without me there?” He blows a raspberry into the air with a scoff.

“Sure doesn’t, babe.” You shake your head, amused as you watch him wave you off and shut the door behind himself.

You took the time to make yourself look more presentable but you couldn’t leave the room in the state you both left it in. So you collected the things that fell, you wiped the surfaces clean and you trashed whatever broke on the way. It’s the least you could do.

You looked into the mirror, almost not recognising the woman you’ve become over the past few months. Being someone who feeds off your endless adoration has done wonders for your confidence. You no longer feel crazy and obsessive. You’ve finally found someone who’s never gonna have enough of you. Someone who inhales your love like the oxygen he needs to breathe.

You revere Homelander less as an icon and more as a person, as a partner, these days. You know so much more of who he is now and strangely, while he scares others, you’ve never felt safer in his presence. Something about you two just clicks. It’s no wonder he wants to show you to the rest of the world. He wants to lock you in, have people forever associate with him.

And soon enough, there will be no way out.

[Part 3]

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @morishitoshi

#I'm incapable of being concise #this part 2 was meant to be just an excuse to write more smut without establishing a backstory really but now it evolved into more #but now I'm already planning part 3 #anyway hope you enjoyyy #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #the boys fanfiction

585 notes · View notes

dstryvampres · 6 months ago

Note

this idea for a one shot came to my mind, so, neil is the type of guy who would invite a reader to show her his collection of anything and wouldn't see any subtext in it "hey why are you naked???" (he finally gives in and she fucks him hard lol)

Drain You

THIS IS SUCH A FUNNY PROMPT !!!! honestly, you’re right he’s just the man to do that.

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Reader

Warnings: smut, p in v, creampie, unprotected sex, neil is stupid, very brief nipple play, Neil bites you like once

Word Count: 1.9k

For weeks you had been trying to hint to Neil Lewis that you were into him, like really into him, and each time he would miss it completely. It seemed to him your weeks of walking into Gumshoe wearing the shortest skirts you owned and bending down in front of him so he could get a glimpse of the panties you picked out that morning, or wearing shirts that show an unnecessary amount of cleavage and then pressing your breasts into Neil meant nothing to him. You thought he would finally get the hint when you went over to his house and picked out a DVD from his porno collection, but he immediately redirected you to some stupid noir film. Neil makes you want to rip your hair out, how can a man miss an opportunity that has essentially been served to him on a silver platter. The most this man has given you has been a makeout session in the back of Gumshoe that stopped before you could even start feeling him up.

So now here you are, standing in front of the mirror applying a final coat of mascara to both of your eyes before Neil shows up in a last ditch effort for him to finally understand that you just want to fuck him. Tonight you plan to make absolutely none of your gestures able to be interpreted as anything other than the burning need for you to be dicked down by the loser who owns the indie DVD rental place.

The doorbell rings.

You rush over to the door to your apartment from your room, almost tripping on the hardwood due to a mix of your speed and socks lack of grip. Patting down the pink, almost see-through, and overly short dress you decided to slip on tonight, before opening the door.

“Hello,” Neil greets, a bottle of red in his hands.

He seemed to not pick-up on the fact that you thought this was a date just by his clothes alone. A Neil classic outfit of a wife pleaser underneath a short sleeve green button-up and jeans, in stark contrast to your own outfit curated to make yourself irresistible. It was nothing offensive, but it wasn’t like he was going out of his way to look his best tonight either, coming in the clothes he likely wore to work today.

“Come in,” you say, moving over to the side and prying the door open a little more.

Neil takes your invite, slipping off his shoes before looking around. Taking in your apartment like he hasn’t been here before.

“I’m always amazed by how you keep your place so clean,” Neil jokes, following you into your living room.

“Thank you,” you purr, taking the bottle of red from him and placing it on the coffee table, extending yourself a little more than needed in order to expose the bottom of your ass to him.

You want to pounce on Neil as you catch him, out of the corner of your eye, staring at your ass as he drops himself onto your couch. Instead you settle on sitting right beside him, pressing yourself up against his side.

“Do you still have that new wave film I brought here last time?” Neil asks.

Fuck, he just can’t get a hint.

“I think so.” You do not want to watch that stupid fucking new wave film.

“Perfect!” Neil cheers, “Can you go get it? I’ll pour us some wine.”

You turn your head and frown before getting up and going through your DVD collection. Honestly at this rate you’re not even sure if Neil has a sex drive, all he ever wants to do is watch movies and talk about them. If this was any other man you would’ve already had your panties around your ankles. There it is. You insert it into the DVD player and walk back over to the couch, situating yourself a tiny bit further from Neil than before. He doesn’t seem to care, wine glass in his hand, taking a small sip before setting it down.

“This film is really amazing, it details a young criminal waiting out in Paris for fate to catch up with him,” Neil starts as the opening sequence starts up. You barely listen to the rest of his rambling, too focused on the way his lips form the words than the actual words.

Eventually Neil shuts up, just smiling at you for a couple seconds before turning his attention towards the film. You do the same, not like you care at all for anything being said. The whole things in French and you’re way too hot and bothered by the build up of wanting to be fucked for weeks on end to read the captions. The movie is boring, and you don’t understand anything, resorting to entertaining yourself by drinking and ogling Neil. You have to fuck this man tonight, or you’re sure you’ll go crazy.

“Neil,” you whine out halfway through the film, only earning a hum in response. “I want to show you something in my room, I was going to do it later but…”

“Yeah? We can do that. Like now or after the movie is done?” Neil asks, turning his attention to you.

“Now.”

You get up, grabbing Neil’s hand and leading him over to your bedroom. You let go of his hand as soon as you step into your bedroom, already feeling your wetness on your thighs.

“What did you want to show me?” Neil asks, smiling a little bit. He’s so stupid.

“Look at the bookshelf behind you,” you suggest.

He actually turns around, looking at the trinkets, books, and CDs you have accumulating on your shelves. Maybe he comments on the vast amount of objects you have gathered in your room, you don’t really care all that much as you slip your dress and bra off.

“What in particular did you want to show-” Neil turns around, cutting himself off as he finds you bare beside your lacy pink panties and socks. “Why are you naked?”

Neil’s eyes rake over your body with hesitation, taking everything in slowly. By the time his eyes reach your panties he audibly gulps. You can't help but smile, slowly walking over to him and placing his hand over your clothed cunt.

“Neil, I want you to fuck me,” you state, looking into his eyes. His pupils, already wide from both how dimly lit the room is and also from your previous actions, grow once again.

He stands there, dumbfounded, before diving in to kiss you. Lips pressing onto yours, as he pushes you back into your bed. He slips his tongue into your mouth as his hands find your breasts, massaging them gently. He moans into your mouth, hips rutting into yours. You feel his hard-on straining inside of his jeans. You rake your nails on his clothed back, causing him to hiss out slightly.

You reach down to take off Neil’s wife pleaser, having to break away from the kiss to fully get both the button-up and wife pleaser off. Reaching your hands out over his chest to finally feel his bare skin, then bringing him down into a kiss to press his bare chest into yours. The sensation making you moan out. Neil takes the small break from your lips to trail kisses down your neck towards your breasts. Leaving feather light kisses in between your breasts before, trailing over to one of your nipples. He laps his tongue over the bud before slipping it into his mouth and sucking on it. You sigh out, lacing your fingers into his hair and wrapping your legs around his waist.

“I’ve waited so long, please, just touch me,” you sigh out, bucking your hips up into Neil’s.

Neil detaches his lips from your nipple, the remaining spit heightening the chill of the air causing you to whine out. He kisses down from your breasts to just above your panties, hooking his finger into the lining and dragging it down your hips. He hums at the sight of your cunt, slick and warm, just for him. Kissing your clit before stepping away and taking off his pants and boxers. His cock springs out, slapping his stomach. It's not the biggest cock you’ve had, but it’s still above average and, if you might add, quite cute. You don’t get much time to admire his dick before he’s climbing on top of you and leading you back into another heated, sloppy kiss.

Neil gathers your wetness up on the tip of his cock, slipping his tip up and down your folds teasingly. It’s not like he knows just how long you’ve been waiting for him to finally fuck you(3 weeks and 2 days to be exact), but he could spare the teasing just for a second. You whine out, moving so the tip of his cock catches on the sopping wet opening to your cunt. Just that alone is enough for you to moan out and clench around nothing, digging your nails into his biceps.

Neil breaks away from the kiss, lining up his cock with your cunt, and watches himself push into you. You could cum just from the initial intrusion alone, having to squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip to stop yourself from doing so.

“You take me so well baby,” Neil whispers, coming back to leave sloppy open mouthed kisses on your neck.

Neil pulls out before pushing in again. Fuck, is loser cock good. It was worth listening to all that useless, benign movie knowledge for three weeks for this. His cock stretches you out, wide. Everytime he pulls out of you so he can push back in, you can feel your insides pulse with desire. When he pushes into you, his cock rubs along the sweet spot in your cunt, making you whine out with each thrust.

Neil’s hands come back to your nipples, taking turns tweaking and pinching them as he fucks into you. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he starts to speed up.

“I can’t believe I waited this long to fuck you,” Neil whines out, his breath tickling the juncture of your neck.

You’re telling me.

Neil’s hands trace down from your breasts to your hips, stabling himself out with his grip there before increasing the speed of his thrusts. He’s going to cum soon if the erratic pace of his thrusts is anything to go off of. He leads one of his hands down to your clit, tracing circles into the nerve with his thumb.

“Where can I cum?” Neil asks, breath hitching briefly.

“Inside,” you moan out, wrapping your arms around him to claw at his back.

Neil mumbles a quick fuck under his breath, before biting down on your neck.

In mere seconds you're cumming around his cock. Letting out a loud moan, clawing into Neil’s back so hard you’re surprised he doesn’t start bleeding. He follows shortly after, burying himself balls deep into you before spurting his hot cum inside of you. You squeeze his cock with your velvety walls, milking his cock, before you’re both finally coming down from your highs.

Neil pulls out of your cunt, and drops down on the bed beside you. His cum dribbles out of your cunt, but it seems you are both too spent to care. Neil lightly brushes some hair out of your face before pulling you into him.

“I’ve been trying to get you to fuck me for over a month,” you say, closing your eyes and burying yourself into Neil’s chest.

“Really!? I thought you were just being friendly with me, and cared about the movies I showed you,” Neil says, genuine shock in his voice.

You start to laugh, because you never thought a man could be so oblivious. Neil eventually starts laughing too. Both of you are now laughing at just how clueless Neil is.

taglist: @paradiseprincesss @luluartpop

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #neil lewis #cillian fic #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy smut #watching the detectives #fanfic #neil lewis x y/n #neil lewis x you #neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #cillian fanfic #cillian x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x y/n #neil lewis fanfic #neil lewis fanfiction

400 notes · View notes

sweetfictionalworld · 5 months ago

Text

The Man Behind The Mask - Black Noir x Female Reader

Summary: You meet Black Noir when you perform on one of Voughts events and one thing leads to another.

Warnings: Smut, Violence.

Author's notes: This is an older fic of mine that I've posted earlier on tumblr. It's the original Black Noir.

Your heart was pounding fast against your ribcage as you stared up at the Vought building. God, you couldn't believe that you were here! That you'd been invited to perform at one of their events. You had played on stages in front of thousands of people, but you'd never been as nervous as you were now. You couldn't believe you were actually going to be in the same room as The Seven! Taking a deep breath, you smoothed down your black dress before entering the building.

The Seven didn't arrive until you were already playing the piano. You looked up as they entered the room, a spike of heat rushing through your core when Black Noir walked down the stairs. You didn't know why, but there was something about a masked man that was such a turn-on. Perhaps it was the mystery of not knowing who was hiding behind the mask, what he really looked like. Black Noir turned his head in your direction, and you quickly looked away, praying he hadn't noticed your stare.

You continued playing, getting lost in the music once more, when you felt someone sitting down next to you. You looked up and blinked in surprise when you found yourself staring at Black Noir's black mask.

"U-Umm...hi?...can-can I help you?" you stuttered, your heart pumping like crazy as he was sitting so close to you that your arms touched.

Black Noir only tilted his head as he looked at you, like he was studying your face. You felt yourself blushing, your eyes fluttering nervously. Then, he turned his head around and started playing. You stared at him, goosebumps prickling your skin as his fingers danced across the keyboards, playing Mozart's Requiem so effortlessly beautifully.

"I...I'll just go then," you mumbled and stood up, but stopped when you felt a hand around your wrist. Looking down, you gazed into the blackness of his masked eyes and at that moment, it felt like the world stood still. It felt like you could hear his every thought, telling you to sit down and play with him.

Biting your lip, you sat down next to him and Noir let go of your wrist. You looked at him but he only went back to playing. Taking a deep, nervous breath, you lifted your hands and joined him. As your hands danced side by side across the keyboards, playing Requiem together, you felt a connection you'd never felt with anyone.

And here you were now, on his couch, straddling his lap and riding his cock. Slowly, you were moving up and down on him, your naked body an erotic contrast to his fully suited one. Noir's gloved hands were on your hips, slowly sliding up to cup your breasts, kneading them firmly. Moaning, you tilted your head back and gripped his muscular, suited chest, digging your nails into the black fabric as you moved your hips faster. You could hear his ragged breaths and low grunts, the only thing besides his hard cock that revealed his pleasure.

You didn’t know how you ended up in Noir's suite. Somehow, without him saying a word, you had followed in his footsteps to the elevator when the party was over. There, he had pressed you against the wall, his masked eyes watching your face as his hand slid underneath your dress and his gloved fingers sneaked beneath your underwear and glided easily through your already wet folds. You moaned sweetly, a gasp fleeing your mouth as his fingers found your clit and he brought you to your first orgasm right there in the elevator.

Then, you felt one of his hands slide up along your collarbone and higher, wrapping tightly around your throat.

"Fuck...," you moaned as a surge of pleasure rushed through your core, your pussy clamping down on Noir's cock. Noir tightened the grip on your throat when he noticed your reaction, his hips bucking up to meet yours. He watched the pleasured expression on your face, your eyes closed and mouth half-open as you held still, let him take control as he slammed his cock up into your pussy.

It only took a few seconds for you to come undone, the grip of his hand around your throat and the hard pace of his thrusts bringing you over the edge. Your body stiffened as your climax rippled through your core, your pussy clenching and twitching around his cock. Noir followed promptly, a grunt escaping his lips as he pulled out and shot his cum all over your belly.

Opening your eyes, you were still catching your breath as you looked down at Noir. He was still only watching you silently with his tilted head, like he was curiously taking in your presence. You bit your lip and blushed, not knowing what to say or what to do.

"Umm...I guess I should get dressed and go," you said and Noir only turned his head away, giving you a short nod. You lifted your hand and Noir flinched back slightly as your hand cupped his face. You looked up into his masked eyes and smiled softly, feeling him relax in your touch.

"This was fun. Maybe we can do it again sometime?...," you asked, waiting hopefully for his answer. These few hours you'd spent with him made him more mysterious to you, making you want to know more about the man behind the mask. Although, you had a feeling he was the kind of man who didn't let anyone inside.

Noir looked at you for a long time and then he nodded.

Your face lit up in a smile. "I just need to borrow your bathroom, clean off the mess you left on my belly," you said teasingly and stood up, grabbing your dress and smiling at him before walking into the bathroom.

When you came back into the living room, Noir was nowhere to be found. Your belly flipped at the thought of him getting scared and didn't want to face you again. Which was silly, because you'd only known him for like three hours. Sighing, you scribbled down your number on a piece of paper and left it on the kitchen counter. Leaving his suite, you wondered if you would ever see him again.

Noir had been following you for days, watching every movement you made. A small part of him knew it was wrong, the other part didn’t care. Since that night, he hadn’t been able to get you out of his head but been too damn chicken to send you a text. Even though it was you who suggested you’d hook up again. He didn’t even know why he was scared. It wasn’t like this thing between you and him would lead to anything.

But what if it did? What if he would come to trust you enough to remove his mask and you’d be disgusted with his appearance? That was his biggest nightmare. To be ridiculed and laughed at.

One evening, about two weeks after you met, he was following you as usual after one of your concerts, when a guy cornered you in an alleyway. Squinting his eyes, Noir breathed through his nose as rage slowly built up inside of him when the guy pushed you hard against the wall. Tensing every muscle in his body, he leaped off the rooftop and landed on the pavement behind your assaulter.

Everything happened so fast your brain didn’t have time to process it. One second, this creep had you pinned against the wall, the next, he was yanked away from you and tossed across the alley. Your eyes widened when you saw the familiar figure standing in front of you.

"Noir? What are you doing here?" you asked, then the realization suddenly washed over you. "Have you been following me?"

Noir didn’t nod, only approached you slowly. You looked down at the lifeless body on the ground, a wave of relief washing over you when he made a little grunt. The last thing you wanted was for Noir to kill a guy because of you. Although, you had a strong feeling Noir didn’t care about that. You looked back up at Noir, wetting your bottom lip.

"Uhm…thank you. You know, for saving me."

Your face got warm as you felt his eyes on you, wondering what he was thinking about. Then, he suddenly took your hand and you gasped as he pulled you with him, your feet stumbling as you tried to keep up with his pace.

"W-Where are we going?" you asked, but of course, you didn’t get an answer.

"Noir…," you moaned, arched your back as his fingers found that sweet spot inside you, making you plummet over the edge.

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself in his apartment, your dress hiked up over your hips as he was slowly fingering you while pressing you against the wall. He was silently watching you and you wished you could see his face, see his eyes dark with lust as he watched your pleasured expression.

Within the next seconds, you were on your knees, licking your lips as Noir zipped down his suit and pulled out his cock. You glanced up into his masked eyes, bit your lip as the sight of his dark, hard cock made your pussy clench and ache with need. Wrapping your hand around his length, you darted out your tongue and swirled it around the head, earning a breathy grunt from the ninja. He tangled his right hand into your hair and tilted his head back, enjoying the sensation of his dick moving in and out of your warm mouth and sucking lips. Faster and deeper, you sucked his cock, and Noir started bucking against your mouth, thrusting into your mouth at a frantic pace. You held still, gagged, and choked on his cock as you allowed him to fuck your mouth any way he desired.

Noir’s grip on your hair tightened as he bucked his hips a final time and came inside your mouth with a raspy growl rumbling in his chest. He opened his eyes and looked down into your eyes as you looked at him while swallowing every last drop he had to offer. A shiver rolled through his body as you continued to suck his dick that slowly went slack in your mouth until you let it slide out of your mouth.

"So…are we going to see each other again, or?…," you asked a few minutes later as you were smoothing your dress down.

Noir stood still for a moment before he walked over to the kitchen counter, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. He turned around, showing you what he’d written.

"I’d like that very much," you read and smiled at him. "I’d like that too."

~Two months later~

Noir’s tossing back and forth beside you startled you out of your sleep, and you sat up with a jolt. Looking down at Noir, you noticed his face bathing in sweat and the sheets twisted around your legs.

"Hey, hey…shhhhh…it’s alright, Noir," you hushed and took him into your arms, softly rocking him out of his sleep.

Eye flying open, Noir stared up at you, his heart hammering hard against his ribcage. Clinging onto your arms, he pressed his head against your breasts. There…there it was. The steady sound of your heartbeat. It always soothed his soul, calmed the anxious thoughts in his head.

"Was it the usual dream?" you asked softly.

Noir nodded and you kissed his scarred face as you slowly rocked him in your arms. Noir let out a heavy sigh and buried his face against your breasts, letting himself be wrapped up in your warmth that slowly soothed him back to sleep.

Walking up to you, Noir wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, closing his eyes as he inhaled your scent.

Noir walked into the kitchen in the morning, met by your beautiful smile as you were making pancakes. He still had to pinch himself every morning to make sure this wasn’t a dream. How was he so lucky to find you? Someone who loved him despite his flaws and the revolting mess that was his face. He still remembered the first time he showed you his face. There was no disgust or pity in your eyes. Only love and adoration as you smiled and your lips met for the first time.

"Hungry?" you asked with a smile on your face, bit your lip when he lifted your nightgown and pressed the hard protective cup of his suit against your ass. You giggled and pressed back against him, your pussy getting aching wet at the thought of how many times you had ridden that cup to orgasm.

"Not hungry for pancakes, I presume?"

Noir only growled in return, pulled his already hard cock out, and pushed your panties aside. Bucking his hips forward, he pushed into your warm, wet cunt in one, deep thrust. Gasping as he filled you up and a jolt of pleasure rushed through your core, you arched your back and grabbed the edge of the counter. Looking over your shoulder, you lifted your arm and wrapped it around his neck, gasped when he ripped the nightgown from your body, and grabbed your breasts. Moaning, you arched against his touch and mewled when he roughly kneaded your tits.

"Fuck, Earving," you gasped. "Fuck me harder, baby. Fill me with your cum."

As on cue, Noir pushed your upper body down onto the counter. One hand around your neck and the other on your hip as he started thrusting harder and faster, pounding you forcefully against the counter.

You moaned aloud, your mouth agape as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back, his growls rumbling through the air as he came, filling your cunt with his seed. You came simultaneously, your pussy clenching as Noir’s cock swelled inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body.

"Fuck, I love you so much, Noir," you said out of breath, giggling as you straightened up and leaned against his strong frame. Noir picked up his phone and typed something. Showing it to you, you smiled as you read it out loud.

"I love you too. Sorry about your nightgown."

"That’s alright, Noir," you said, laughing. "You can destroy as many as you like."

#black noir x reader #black noir x you #black noir fanfiction #black noir smut #black noir #the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys smut

341 notes · View notes

a-small-safe-place · 1 year ago

Text

His Haven Pt. 2

Homelander x Psychiatrist!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

As the weeks passed, Homelander continued to integrate himself into your life, blurring the lines between patient and "friend." One evening, after a particularly intense session, Homelander broached the subject of spending more time together outside of the therapy room. "I was thinking," he began, his blue eyes searching yours, "maybe we could grab a bite sometime. You know, outside of this place." Your heart sank, torn between the genuine connection you felt with Homelander and the professional boundaries you knew you needed to maintain. With all your other patients, you had discussed boundaries, but not with the members of The Seven. The Deep, A-Train, and Queen Maeve viewed these sessions as a waste of time. Starlight and Black Noir had kept a very professional relationship. You weren't totally sure why Black Noir still came to the sessions since his sessions were spent in silence, usually with him drawing pictures of Buster Beaver and his little buddies. Starlight was the only one that used the sessions for what they were meant for.

You had not thought you needed to set boundaries with them, and that, since these were America's greatest heroes, the boundaries were obvious and unspoken. Oh, how that had bitten you in the ass now, having to turn down the offer. You let those boundaries slip by allowing Homelander to come to your house, but in that situation, there was not a lot you could do to stop him.

"I appreciate the offer, Homelander, but it's important to keep our relationship within the confines of our sessions," you replied carefully, trying to hide the conflict in your eyes, unaware that he could hear your heartbeat and smell your nervousness. Homelander's expression shifted from hopeful anticipation to a subtle disappointment that cut through you. "Right, professional boundaries," he said, a forced smile tugging at his lips. It is the kind of smile that does not reach his eyes. "I get it." You could not let his dangerous expression get to you.

The following sessions became strained. Homelander seemed distant, his usually confident demeanor replaced by an air of vulnerability and irritation. You should be thanking him that he is interested in you. He attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were stilted. It was clear that your rejection had affected him more than either of you anticipated. Homelander was not willing to give up. You just needed a chance to come around.

One day, after a difficult session, Homelander lingered in your office. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, his tone a mixture of frustration and hurt. Homelander knew you did not have a partner in your life. He had stopped by to do a thorough search of your home while you were out, and there was no evidence of you dating someone, not even the smell of a casual hookup still lingering on your skin. You sighed, maintaining the professionalism that defined your role. "It's not that I don't value our sessions, Homelander. But crossing the boundaries of a therapeutic relationship can be detrimental for both of us," you explained, your words hanging heavily in the air. "I want what's best for you, and sometimes that means maintaining a professional distance."

Homelander's jaw tensed, and he stood abruptly. "So, I'm just another patient to you, is that it?" His eyes bore into yours, searching for a hint of vulnerability that matched his own. "No, Homelander, you're not just another patient," you replied softly, your heart aching at the pain evident in his eyes. "But I have a responsibility to ensure that our interactions remain focused on your well-being." He stormed out of your office without another word, leaving you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Homelander is a dangerous and unpredictable man. The once-promising therapeutic alliance had crumbled, replaced by an unspoken tension that hung in the air during each subsequent session.

Days turned into weeks, and the divide between you and Homelander deepened. He attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were strained and unproductive. Of course, for Homelander, he still had his time with you even if you were oblivious to it. Though, he would much rather be in your arms than jacking off on the building next to yours while you participated in a similar activity in the warmth of your bed.

One evening, after a silent session, Homelander was particularly grumpy in this session. He had expressed that he had a bad day. Homelander lingered at the door. "You should be fucking thanking me,” He pauses. “I am giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, and you're fucking throwing it away. Do you know how many people would leave their whole families just for one glance from me?”

The weight of his words settled heavily on your shoulders as he walked away, leaving you alone in the empty office. It made you wonder how dangerous Homelander really was and how desperate he would become if you continued to deny him. The once-promising connection had fractured irreparably, and the professional boundaries you fought so hard to maintain had come at the cost of a genuine connection with Homelander.

The weeks passed with a lingering tension between you and Homelander. The once-promising therapeutic alliance had crumbled, leaving behind an unspoken rift that seemed insurmountable. Homelander attended sessions less frequently, and when he did, the conversations were strained, devoid of the genuine connection that had defined your earlier interactions. It became evident that your rejection had affected him more deeply than either of you anticipated. Homelander, usually the embodiment of confidence, now wore an air of vulnerability and loneliness that tugged at your conscience. The sessions were marked by long pauses, resentful glances, and a palpable discomfort that neither of you could ignore. You couldn't shake the feeling of regret that lingered each time you saw him. The haunting realization that you had sacrificed something meaningful for the sake of professional decorum weighed heavily on your conscience. Late one evening, a knock echoed through your home. Homelander stood at the doorway, his usual confidence replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored the man you had glimpsed in the early days of your sessions. "I need someone to talk to," he admitted, his voice a whisper.

#the boys #homelander #homelander x reader #the seven #homelander x you #homelander x psychiatrist #psychiatrist!reader #psychiatrist x character #psychiatrist x patient #slow burn?#reader x character #character x reader #gender neutral reader #female reader #male reader

774 notes · View notes

snnrinc · 9 months ago

Text

Codename: ROOK

Now completed on AO3!

Ch. 1 /11- Outside Contractual Obligations [AO3 Portal]

— PAIRING : Dabi/Touya Todoroki x F!Reader x Hawks/Keigo Takami

— WARNINGS : NSFW (Not in this chapter), Noir AU, No Quirk AU, Porn With Plot, Sexual Tension, Threesome - F/M/M, Drugs Blood and Violence, Crime Scenes, Organized Crime, Murder, Eventual Smut, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Masturbation, Analingus, Mildly Dub-Con, Not Canon Compliant, AFAB reader, She/her pronouns for reader

— SUMMARY : Being a police officer in a city where crime runs high and respect is non existent has got to be one of the shittiest jobs you've ever had. But it pays the bills. However, once you and detective Keigo Takami are assigned a case that deals with the murder of a prolific law enforcer and the subsequent chain of disappearances happening all over Musutafu, you realise that having your bills up to date is most definitely not worth all the danger you're up against. Especially when that danger is named Dabi, one of the most sought after criminals that you've been trying to catch red handed for years. Nonetheless, this is your only opportunity to make your job finally mean something, so you and Keigo decide to go undercover right in the jaws of peril, its razor sharp teeth waiting to bite into your neck like a guillotine. But you won't back out now, will you, officer? Good luck on the job, codename Rook.

— NOTES : This was supposed to be a smutty one shot I have no idea what the fuck happened. It's been gathering dust in my Docs for over a year and yet this is the only chapter I have 💀 I left notes for myself saying "don't go overboard with the plot because the point is for them to FUCK" and now here we are. It definitely worked. For sure... Still hope you enjoy!

“A big-name agent of ours went missing a few months ago. No trace of his whereabouts until a couple weeks ago, when his body was found in the dumpster behind a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Well, parts of it anyway.”

The man in front of you took a final puff from his dying cigarette and promptly extinguished it in the ashtray in front of him, right next to a bowl of sweets with generic labels. He exhaled the smoke in billows and it vanished in the air, lingering with a pungent smell of tobacco and an awful chocolate flavouring. Your nose scrunched up slightly and you resisted the urge to cough.

“We have no evidence left at the crime scene and the body being chopped up makes it near impossible to determine the murder weapon,” he continued. “We have some of our best agents dealing with the autopsy and the case as a whole, but no clear suspects so far.”

“This seems like highly classified information. So why are you telling me this?”

You closed the file you were handed and placed it back on the desk, eyes shifting to detective Enji Todoroki sitting across from you, watching the way his eyebrows dropped down just a little in an expression that seemed to almost be judging your intelligence.

Really, you felt like you should be the one judging here.

To say you were confused would be an understatement. When you were called into Enji's office, you had assumed you did something wrong on the job, since most people in your workplace seemed to overlook you even when it came to small tasks. Sometimes you felt that if you wouldn't turn up to work one day, no one would notice. Usually, you didn't mind — being invisible meant you could do your work in peace without being bothered by unnecessary small talk or the occasional office drama that you sometimes overheard in the break room. You were just an officer, one of the lowest ranks in the force, so the only time you expected any attention was when something went wrong.

When Enji personally came to look for you before you went on patrol for your shift you felt your stomach drop. Yes, the job sucked a good majority of the time, since you noticed you were often not taken seriously by your colleagues, sometimes probably even considered a liability when dealing with more violent cases. But like any other person roaming the earth, you still had rent to pay and food to buy if you wanted to continue existing, and working for the Public Safety Commission ensured you did just that and still had some money left for your more frivolous wants. Straightening your back, you followed Enji to his office, every bad scenario playing in your mind only getting worse when, as soon as you sat down, he dropped a file containing the case details on the desk in front of you, pushing it forward in a silent prompt for you to read it.

And now here you were, bombarded with information about a murder you were pretty sure you were not qualified to deal with, at least judging by your contractual obligations. You had half a mind to ask if you'd be getting paid more if you worked on the case, but you bit your tongue from the overwhelming feeling of uneasiness creeping up your spine.

“Of course, I don't expect you to understand things so quickly.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his comment. “But surely you've gathered by now that you have been assigned as an assistant to this case.”

“That much is obvious,” you couldn't help but retort. “The question is still why?”

“I was meant to be assigned to this case, but the crime rate has spiked in recent months. I have bigger issues to deal with, so the Commission decided that we need someone that can slip under the radar.”

Ah, so they just needed some cannon fodder. Part of you thought you should've expected as much from the Commission.

“I still think I'm terribly underqualified to be working on this case.”

Enji leaned back into his chair, tapping one of his armrests with his index finger. “So do I, but you'll be working under detective Takami.” He heaved a sigh and allowed a sarcastic undertone to lace his voice, “Who should've been here to give you a quick overview of the case progression so far, but who are we to count on his punctuality?”

Wait a second, working under who?

You blinked and did a double take at him, replaying his words in your mind as if trying to dissect their meaning. This was fantastic in the worst possible way. Not only did you practically have a murder case of a prominent agent dropped into your inexperienced and unsuspecting arms, you were now the right hand of the second best detective of the Commission, Keigo Takami.

If only you had these kinds of odds bestowed upon you if you played the lottery, surely you'd have won enough to ditch this job.

You thought back to what Enji had just revealed to you and couldn't shake the feeling that there was a different reason why they would ask an officer to help with this case, other than just “slipping under the radar”. With one of the best detectives taking over, you figured the Commission wouldn't be stupid enough to allow someone like you to get in the way of the investigation.

As the questions multiplied in your mind, your tongue was tied, unable to figure out a way to put your doubts into words, especially since you knew Enji would do nothing to soothe them.

There was a knock on the door breaking your train of thought, before it opened to reveal detective Takami, an easygoing smile etched on his lips, his gloved hands buried inside the pockets of his shearling jacket, with only one coming up to push his aviator sunglasses that were resting on the bridge of his nose to the top of his head.

“Sorry I missed the introductions,” he said, “but I'm sure we weren't called here just to chat.”

“At last you grace us with your presence, detective. A little while longer and our officer here would've taken over the case in your stead.”

You whipped your head towards Enji, almost ready to ask him if he was serious, before you looked back at Keigo to see him meet your gaze.

“I'm Keigo Takami, it's a pleasure to meet you.” He gave you a charming smile and extended his hand for you to shake. You grasped it firmly and introduced yourself. “So, were you one of the first responders at the scene?”

“Actually,” Enji interjected, “the officer is unfamiliar with the case at the moment, save for the basic details.”

“Oh?” Keigo frowned in confusion.

“As of today, this is your new assistant in this case.”

Keigo blinked a few times, then shook his head and huffed a laugh. “I'm sorry. What? An officer? Not that I mean to doubt your judgement or anything, but isn't this case a little too sensitive for an officer to deal with?” He turned towards you. “No offence.”

“None taken, I'm a little confused myself.”

Enji sighed and massaged his temple with one hand before he leaned forward. “You see, your role in this case will be a little more... 'hands-on' than usual. I mentioned we don't have any concrete suspects, but we do have an idea of the organisation that might be responsible for the murder, which is why we need to employ your help for the investigation.”

“I don't see how this is anything new,” Keigo said. “We've been investigating the League for a while, they operate in this area. Tying them to this murder would be the most obvious first step.”

“The League?” you interfered.

Enji raised an eyebrow at you. “Are you familiar with them?”

“Uh, yeah.” Your eyes shifted between the two men watching you. “They've made a name for themselves amongst the police officers. We've been trying to catch a few of them in the act but they always slip away.”

“Unsurprising for the police force,“ Enji scoffed and you frowned. “Let's hope we won't have the same disappointing results in this case. We have no time to waste on pathetic failures.”

Keigo looked at you from the corner of his eye and noticed the way your shoulders tensed up. He leaned over and dug his hand into the bowl of sweets on the desk, effectively catching both of your attentions. With a fistful of candy, he resumed his questions for Enji who was dishing out your responsibilities.

“So is this about the NOMU Program?”

Enji's eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that program? It's classified information, even for you.”

Keigo shrugged and shoved some more candy into his mouth. “If it is about that, I'd argue that's even more reason why we shouldn't drag an officer into this.”

“Sorry,” you interjected. “What is the NOMU Program?”

“Don't concern yourself with things outside of your duties,” Enji snapped.

“Come now, let's be courteous with our colleague,” Keigo said with a light-hearted tone before turning to you. “It's a codename used by the League. We figured it stands for Network of Metahumanoid Units. A fancy name that's probably got to do with their attempts at reanimating corpses.”

Fuck, so now you were dealing with zombies? Sure, technology as a whole was impressive, but it was nowhere near sophisticated enough to bring someone back from the dead. As far as you knew, every attempt to reverse death was futile. So then why would someone bother?

Enji noticed the confusion in your eyes and spoke before you could ask any questions. "They're planning to use them as weapons. Keigo called them corpses because essentially that's what they are: on the brink of brain death.”

“The only reason why they don't collapse is because the League is pumping them full of a drug called Trigger that boosts their baser powers,” Keigo continued, earning an annoyed glare from Enji at how readily he presented the classified information to you. “We've only had a few attacks reported so far, and we weren't sure what exactly we were dealing with, so we had our top agents deployed to deal with them. Which is why the police weren't mobilised.”

“Sounds like a pretty important omission to me,” you countered with a frown. “So is this what we're dealing with here? Drugged up zombies?”

“We're still unsure,” Keigo answered. “If this victim was supposed to be part of the NOMU Program, then we wouldn't have a body cut up into pieces on our hands. Maybe they're trying to send a message.”

“That's where you two come in," Enji announced. "This time, you will not be dealing with any forensic analysis, suspect interrogation or evidence collection. Instead, you two will act as our eyes and ears and infiltrate the League.”

An insurmountable amount of pressure crashed over you and clenched your muscles in a vice grip, to the point where you almost felt as if it would crack your bones at any moment. You tried to control your expression in an attempt to stop your shock from washing over your face, but surely the vein that started throbbing painfully in your temple was enough proof.

“Hold on.” You raised your hand again to signal for Enji to slow down. “You mean to tell me you called me here to act as your spy?”

Enji scowled. “I don't like it either. They shouldn't send a rookie in for such a big case. I should've been the lead, but it wasn't my decision to make, so I suggest you suck it up and do your job.”

Your voice was exasperated, “There are so many ways that this could go wrong if you send me out there! I'd just hold detective Takami back!”

“I have to agree,” Keigo said. “It's best if I work on my own as usual.”

“Well you see, Takami, things are not so easy in this line of work,” Enji snarled, then produced two folders from his briefcase and stood up, handing them to you and Keigo. “Commission's orders and instructions. Read them thoroughly. Good luck with the mission detective, officer.”

And with that, he stepped out of the room and you felt as if all oxygen made an exit along with him, your heart pounding in your chest so hard you could almost hear it through the grave silence that fell over the room as you read the instructions:

“Officer,

As of today you will refer to yourself as Rook and to your mission partner as Hawks. Forget your real name. Return your weapons, badge, uniform and any other equipment that may be in your possession at the reception of the PCS HQ.

While infiltrated do not contact anyone outside including family members, friends, acquaintances and other PSC employees except for your partner.

You will not have any accolades attached to your name. Your achievements will not be disclosed by the PSC if you succeed. You will receive no posthumous awards if you die. This is your duty to fight for the people. Failure to comply could result in dismissal, sanctions and/or prosecution.

Destroy this document after reading.”

This job was so not worth it.

You watched the grainy screen of the tube TV perched in a corner of the office intently, listening to the news broadcasted somberly by the anchor along with your colleagues. Keigo was by your side, expertly twirling a pen in his fingers, but his focus was zeroed in on the screen, his nose and mouth buried in the raised collar of his jacket.

After the discovery of the body of the Commission's agent, the disappearances around Musutafu increased by a concerning margin. What was worse was that not all of them were agents, some were simply civilians that seemingly had powerful or useful builts and abilities, like the person whose face was now on the screen, their name, last known location and clothes they were last seen wearing listed underneath the picture.

You crossed your arms over your chest and frowned. If this was what you were dealing with, even with your training and experience you were unsure how you'd survive as a double agent. You had no special skill, no upper-hand tactic and you couldn't rely on Keigo—Hawks—for fear that you'd hold him back and compromise the mission.

With how they had you bring back anything that would suggest you'd ever had any contact with the Commission, it really seemed as if they were trying to erase any trace of your existence. This job was all you had, all you ever worked for since you were just a bright-eyed trainee at the police academy, ready to take on any danger coming your way if it meant you could save someone else from it.

How naïve.

Maybe you should've just given up when you were still a child, still able to choose a path that would fit you and your capabilities more. The society in which you lived was unforgiving to weak people, so you had to adapt. But women were not always respected in the police force, and those who were got there because of their network rather than their own abilities more often than not. Not to mention that a police officer's chances of advancing without having someone behind them were close to none.

In other words, there was no way out for you. But at least you weren't exactly the perfect catch for whatever the League was planning, by the looks of things.

From the fog of your worries, you felt Hawks tap your shoulder to catch your attention. His collar was now pushed down neatly and you could see the serious way in which his lips were pursed. He gestured with his head for you to follow him and you complied with a nod.

You reached his office, after stopping by your desk to collect the last bits and pieces you had left laying around, and sat down in front of his desk, one hand worriedly rubbing your chin as you looked out the window. His eyes never left you as he sat down and leaned back in his chair, the pen he was playing with earlier still in his hands. He watched carefully as your brows turned downward in a frown that casted a shadow of concern over your eyes, before he put the pen down on the desk, the sound making you turn to look at him.

“I know you're worried,” he started, “but I want you to know I won't let anything happen to you.”

You let your hands fall into your lap. “Please, don't worry about me. I don't want to be a drawback in this mission.”

“You won't be,” he said, but noticed you were unconvinced when the corner of your lip lifted in what was supposed to be a polite smile, but didn't quite reach your eyes. “You graduated as the top eighth trainee in the police academy, surpassing like, what, 22 of your classmates? That's pretty impressive.” You stared at him in a mix of confusion and surprise and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I've read your file. You've got a lot of potential, officer.”

You smiled and nodded as thanks. In the past, this kind of compliment would've left you feeling all warm and fuzzy on the inside, feeding into your pride and fuelling your determination to get even better. But now, the comment felt like tossing a coin down an endless pit, nowhere near enough to fill the hollow space in your chest and, despite its value, ultimately useless. When did your outlook on your job get so sour?

Maybe it was when you were put up for disciplinary action after attempting to stop one of your fellow officers from brutalising a murder suspect. Or maybe when you had one case shut down because the culprit was the daughter of an acclaimed attorney that somehow found the perfect team of lawyers to render the evidence null. Or maybe it was simply after you had graduated from the academy and were thrown out into the real world. Any way, perhaps this was the universe's way of making up for all the times it fucked up. By giving you a new opportunity.

You picked up the pen from Hawks's desk and fiddled with it. “Officer, huh? I thought my new name was Rook.”

Hawks chuckled. “They're really terrible at picking codenames, huh? Sounds like we're just two bird enthusiasts with no imagination.”

You chuckled at his comment and after a moment you bent down to rummage through the box in which you had collected your remaining possessions from your desk, pulling out a document. You opened it, quickly finding the file in which you and Hawks took notes about your action plan.

“So,” you started, scrolling through the notes, “you were saying you already have a way to get inside the League?”

Hawks leaned forward on his elbows to get a better look at the notes. “Well, yes and no. Enji didn't tell you this, but remember how I said we've been investigating the League for a while? Well, I've been in contact with one of the members. I managed to get close enough for him to think I'll soon defect and join them.”

“So you've been planning to go undercover for a while now?”

“It's the only way I could squeeze any information out of them. They seem pretty loyal to their cause, so getting one of them to become an informant for the PSC was highly unlikely.”

You nodded in thought. “So who's your contact?”

“A guy named Dabi.”

Your blood ran cold and your eyes shot up to Hawks. You knew that name too well. Not only was he notoriously known among the law enforcement as one of the most dangerous members of the League, but he was the person responsible for numerous counts of arson in your area, courtesy of his pyromaniacal tendencies. You'd been trying to find a way to get closer to catching him for years. Each time, he slipped out of your hands, your attempts always too late or too little.

You knew what Dabi was capable of, and without the comfort of a self defence weapon and protective equipment by your side, you feared you'd be turned to ash before you even tried to get any information out of the League.

You stared through Hawks for a few seconds. His eyes searched your expression as he frowned in confusion at your sudden change. You noticed that and blinked a few times, clearing your throat.

“So this contact is our ticket inside, but how do I get him to trust me? I think I'd be found out before I even get to talk to him.”

“No need to worry, I'll send him your way somehow. You then offer to be their informant. We'll have to act separately to avoid raising suspicion, so if we cross paths, try acting like you don't know me personally.”

You nodded in acknowledgement then remained quiet for a second before frowning in thought.

“I don't understand. If you already have an in, then why would the Commission send me to help?”

Hawks sighed. “You heard what the Commission said, you'll be the bait.” He leaned back in his chair. “The League is reluctant to let me join because I'm a well-known detective. They know who I am and what I do, but they don't know you. If you manage to convince them you're also just a crooked law enforcer, that would be the last step we need to finally get inside.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

Hawks regarded you thoughtfully, tilting his head and looking you up and down. His scrutinising eyes seemed to glow as the final rays of dusk poured through the blinds of his office window. Before he even spoke, you knew that his idea would not be to your liking.

“Say, how comfortable are you with flirting?”

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #smut #x female reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader x dabi

91 notes · View notes

oceanlipgloss · 5 months ago

Text

FILM NOIR

SYLUS.

+ warnings: extremely implicit suggestive themes (in ending), mentions of blood, strong language.

A film noir marred with smears of red. The colour of their hearts, his irises, and fresh blood. At first glance, his world looked like that—black, illegal, corrupt.

They were the two of them not quite the classical example of a pair from one of those atmospheric motion pictures, however. He was not plagued by illusions, and she did not want to lead him to armageddon.

This was a noir much more modern, its basic foundations twisted and rotated so as to become their own.

Sexier dreams are sold in cities, or so they say. Because between the clustered buildings and peeling walls, things differ. There’s the seductive motions, the sweet corruptions, the disruptive temptations.

Murder dripped from his fingertips. Crime trickled down his palms. He was one with his guns. Death couldn’t even kiss his sharp cheek. She saw in him an incarnate of demons.

That, however, began to change later.

The tall haughty man shrunk into a silly little boy sometimes. He was still as annoying as ever, of course, but also quite kind. Even a bit childlike.

As it turned out, his world wasn’t all about crime. Core truths were hidden, away from her sight. He could be...nice.

In his crimson world, he hummed an unknown melody in the kitchen. Hearing musical notes clumsily tiptoe on the octaves of his baritone was both unfamiliar and endearing alike. And in that shady world of his, she turned her fingers into a surprise weapon that poked his side.

The blue galaxy took in her sighs. She was beginning to care about him despite herself, despite all his violence, arrogance, and nonsense.

Was he arrogant, though, or did he merely know himself, with that frightening perception and alluring confidence?

Some time ago, he had bound her wrists with burgundy fog and captured her unwilling fingers.

His was a nauseating existence.

Such a handsome man, such a sickening attitude. Those were her thoughts back then. He was so beautiful, but so vile—always making her heart shrivel with subconscious repulsion.

How harsh. Did it wound his heart?

Well, she had always been defiant. Not her fault. He lived on the dark side. It was only fair, perfectly right.

These days, being near him shot her veins with neon. It flowed inside her, darker than cherries, as irresistible as his power.

Like children, they were always bickering. He threatened stubborn plush toys for her. She scolded his moody crow for being a stalker. Together they took over the arcade, capturing soft soldiers. His teeth marked her hand with the pink crescents of playful bites. ‘Gifts,’ he called them.

He appeared to be the kind of man who would indulge in cinema’s greatest noirs, but he could entertain her childish antics, too. He played along so often.

They were so good together.

Never again did he let his coarse fingers so much as brush her tender skin all of a sudden.

Women had their wiles, but he adored her and only her—so much so that his heartbeat became manic under her small hand on his broad chest.

Nothing and no one could be as cute, his love was pure, and he wasn’t about to be seduced. By anyone else, that is. Perhaps he would give in to her; all he needed now was her sweet acceptance, her absolute consent, so that one day he very much could, with pleasure.

Just what about them was similar to a fucked up couple from a film noir?

+notes: finally, finally, my first Love and Deepspace fic debuts and sees the light of day or that of the moon, 'cause it's late at night rn anyway :P

May I now offer you a short babble on how I died a thousand deaths in order to settle on an idea? I kid you not, I've been quite literally yearning and agonising to write a Sylus fic almost since I saw in-game screenshots/videos of him for the first time, which was quite a while before I even began playing the game. I didn't give in and do that, though, as I didn't have a clear, precise picture of what exactly he's like—and I always study characters down to their cells and bones before I write a fic about them—so I resisted the temptation. Some time later (a little over a week ago, in fact), I installed the game, learned a lot more about him with a lot more to go, and my God...

Listen, I really liked him prior to downloading, but right now? I love him very much :/ how could I not? He likes fishing, but the only thing he's catching on that darn hook is hearts. It's a lame joke to make, but can the truth be denied, for goodness' sake? His personality, his mind, his attitude, his darkness, his sweetness, his humour, his face, his height, his fashion sense, his secrets, his lil' son Mephisto too.

Anyways, the inspiration for this piece came from a mixture of parts and sources: the main story, interactions (i.e. arcade, chats, Destiny Café, etc.), home screen and combat lines, dates, Tender Moments, animations, as well as content I have yet to unlock, of course. Do I also need to mention how I adore MC's dynamic with Sylus? They're so cute and funny together pls lol

Seriously, I was confused out of my mind with indecisiveness, writer's block, and this intense desire to write. I genuinely feel a lust to write fics about him until I combust. A fun and silly fic, an innocent one, a sensual one, a melancholic one, a philosophical one, anything and everything else I can think of/that comes to my mind. May the odds be ever in my favour, for sometimes the brain's mechanisms really suck.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

#love and deepspace #lnds #lads #love and deepspace fanfic #l&ds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #the story factory

30 notes · View notes

sariahsue · 11 months ago

Text

Wherefore Art Thou My(stery) Lady

When a failed attempt to let Chat Noir down easy ends with Ladybug learning his name, she does what any lovesick teenager would do: teases him mercilessly. Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4

Chapter Five

Adrien shuffled into the auditorium, thankful he’d inherited his father’s height. Ladybug might be in the room with him. Maybe he could see her above from his vantage point and tell who she was from a distance, just by her raven hair. What if she was watching him look for her right now?

He ducked down, not wanting to look like an awkward giraffe.

Backpacks brushed against his arms. Students pushed against each other, eager for the break in their classes.

“Nino, I see some seats up there!” Alya pulled her boyfriend toward the front of the room, elbowing past classmates.

“Wait!” Marinette called. Adrien hadn’t realized she was right behind him.

“Sorry! Only two seats over there. Fend for yourself!” And she disappeared into the crowd, Nino and his cap slipping along behind her.

More bodies pressed in behind them, squeezing Marinette up against him until she nearly tripped over his feet.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, trying to stand her ground and give him space.

“Let’s find a place to sit.” He would probably stand a better chance of seeing Ladybug if he wasn’t worried about needing to catch Marinette if she fell.

Would her hair be the same? What if it was different and he couldn’t recognize her? He sat in the middle of the row, only to stand up again for a better vantage point.

“You seem distracted,” Marinette said.

No one in the row behind him was Ladybug, he was sure of that. He checked them all twice.

“You looking for someone?” she asked.

People were still filing in through the doors, calling to their friends, waving and jumping and obstructing his view.

Marinette huffed and crossed her arms.

Adrien looked down at her. “What’s wrong?”

She slumped farther down in her seat, face turned away, a pencil clutched in one fist. “Nothing’s wrong. Why would something be wrong?”

“You were biting your pencil,” he said, noticing the marks. “You only do that when you’re mad.”

Marinette turned enough to peek at him from the corner of her eye. “I didn’t think you noticed stuff like that. Thanks.”

“Um. You’re welcome?” Not knowing what else to say, he went back to scanning the crowd. Marinette seemed fine, and he didn’t want to waste too much time talking to her. The lights dimmed and went out, and the conversations around them followed the same pattern, and Adrien had to admit defeat. He slumped back into his seat.

The guest speaker welcomed them and then started talking about study skills. Or maybe the brevet. Or the bac. University was mentioned too, at some point. Adrien was more focused on his phone, and all the texts that Ladybug wasn’t sending him. After an hour and over a dozen messages sent to her, he still hadn’t heard anything back. Maybe she wasn’t in the assembly. Maybe she was taking a test? Would it be possible to find a list of all the classes that had tests today?

At the front of the room, whispers started to grow louder, grabbing the attention of the speaker, who stopped pointing at her projector screen and squinted into the crowd. Adrien started scanning the room, looking to where the speaker was looking, toward the end of the front row, and then quickly around the rest of the room. A man stood in the alcove around the emergency exit. Was he a teacher? His sunglasses and the tall pole he held suggested he wasn’t. In the center of the front row, a girl stood up and screamed, pointing at the seat next to her.

Someone was getting to their feet from the seat. Or trying to. They were moving slowly, like molasses being poured. Adrien stood up to get a better view. The other students in the row were leaning away, hands coming up to cover their yells of terror, but their hands were moving too slowly.

Everyone in the room knew what this meant. They’d been through it too many times before to not know. Akuma.

“Move,” Marinette said, rising and pushing him into the knees of the students still sitting next to them. “Move!”

She squeezed past him over three sets of legs until she reached the end of the row, then headed toward the front, toward the danger. Adrien stumbled after her, knocking one kid back into his seat and stepping on someone else’s foot. He didn’t see whose.

When he reached the end of the aisle, it was too late. Marinette had disappeared into the sea of students flooding out of the room. He pushed upstream, catching elbows and deflecting yells and curses from his frightened classmates. He had to catch up with her, and maybe find Nino and Alya.

Marinette appeared in front of him. “What are you doing? Go get help!”

“But–”

She didn’t listen to his argument, instead dragging him ahead, toward the danger, until the crowd thinned. Only a few students remained, ones who were running at one-tenth speed behind everyone else, trying to get away from an akuma who already had them trapped. Marinette ducked behind the front row, crouching out of sight, crawling to the edge of the room.

Adrien followed her, peeking up only once to see what he was dealing with. The pole caught his attention more than the man spinning it. A camera sat on the top. He held it high above his head. A light flashed, brighter than the spotlight pointing to the stage, and the shutter gave a loud click. Another scream from the back of the room. Adrien didn’t need to look to see more students had been hit, their progression through time slowed.

Someone flicked the room’s main light on, and Adrien finally got a look at the man’s familiar face. One he’d seen that morning—one he should have seen ten minutes before he had. “Vincent?”

Marinette whipped around, yanking him down until his chin hit an armrest. “Stay out of sight! We’re almost there!”

Rubbing his chin, he looked past her and saw her target. The emergency exit door. If he could just get her through there, he could turn his entire focus back to the fight.

Vincent was yelling something as they reached the end of the row. It wasn’t very far to the door, but they would have no cover when they ran for it. Marinette edged her way onto the carpeted aisle. The lights on made it even more dangerous. They had no shadows to hide behind. Nowhere to duck for cover if the akuma saw them.

“Now,” Marinette whispered, dragging him by the arm and popping up from her crouch. Their feet slammed against the floor. Adrien cracked his knee on one of the seats as he rounded the corner. Marinette slammed against the door, pulling him through behind her without looking at the akuma and where he was. Adrien stumbled, losing his balance as they went through the wide-flung door and into the empty hallway.

“Go get help!” she yelled at him again as she caught the door as it closed and launched herself back through, leaving him alone.

“Wait!” He clutched at the air where she had been, panic grabbing at him. He had to help her!

But she’d given him the perfect opportunity without even knowing it. No one had gone toward the akuma to get away, and a scan of his surroundings confirmed that it was just him in the hallway. Chat Noir could help her a lot more than Adrien could.

And he didn’t have any more time to make a decision. With three words, he transformed and blasted through the door at high speed. Marinette was holding her own, weaving around the frozen students, drawing Vincent’s fire. His movements were fluid and languid, yet he always knew where to point his camera, nearly catching Marinette when she would peek around someone else’s head or stop to catch her breath. She rolled out of the way while Chat Noir ran, yelling, to draw the fire.

“Over here!” He extended his baton, using it like a pole vault to leap over two kids in his grade whose names he swore he knew, then landing in front of the akuma and smacking the fist holding the camera pole above his head.

“Marinette, run!”

Behind him, she took one ragged, gasping breath, then her shoes squeaked on the floor as she turned to run. Good. Now he could finally focus.

“What happened? I heard you were in a bad mood when you got to work this morning.”

Vincent rubbed his knuckles, grip still tight on the camera pole despite Chat Noir’s hit. “Traffic was not my fault! I should not have been fired for one tardy after years of dedicated work! The lack of understanding and human compassion in that man is astounding!”

Well, he agreed on that point.

“I think this can be worked out without all the villain craziness, don’t you? You’re well respected in the fashion world. The best! That’s why you were hired by Gabriel. I bet an even better offer–”

Vincent swung his camera around. The click and the flash of light he expected, and he dodged out of the way, but the flying tackle he didn’t expect. It forced him backward, and he landed with a thud on his side, legs splayed out, Ladybug sideways on top of him. The beam of light sailed harmlessly above them.

Ladybug grabbed his face in her hands, squishing his cheeks together. “You are so stupid.” Then she pecked his lips.

If he could have stayed there and basked in the knowledge that Ladybug had willingly put her mouth on his, he would have, but Vincent was gliding toward them, camera staff held out like a javelin. Chat Noir grabbed her and rolled them both out of the way, behind a folding table that had been knocked over. The projector lay cracked on its side, shards of glass from the lens glinting.

“What did I do?” he asked, letting her up.

She shook her head and peeked over the edge of the table. “He’s coming.”

The students around them were slowly barreling up the aisle to the back of the auditorium. Far enough out of the way that he hoped they would stay safe.

“We need to move,” he said. “If we get hit, it’s going to be very hard to defeat this one.”

“Already working on some ideas,” she replied. “I’m calling Lucky Charm!”

Chat Noir kicked the table toward the akuma, who yelled in alarm. At the same time, Ladybug reached up, throwing her yoyo and catching a pan full of oil.

“Thank you!” she yelled, as he ran forward to continue his distraction. “I have an idea!”

“Already?” he called over his shoulder. Vincent swung the camera pole at him like a clumsy swordsman. His arc was much too wide to control. All the force in his arm was spent trying to keep the thing moving in the right direction, and none to the strength of the strike itself. It was easy for Chat Noir to parry and step in close to use the other end of his staff to swipe at Vincent’s knees. The man tripped backward.

“You’re going to hate it. It’s going to mess up your pretty hair,” she yelled back. “Now! Let yourself get hit!”

“What!”

---

After the akuma attack, Adrien had gone home and showered three times using every soap he owned, then had taken a bubble bath for good measure. He wasn’t sure if it was all in his head, but he still felt like he was covered in oil. Ladybug had been right. He’d hated the plan, using the oil to speed themselves up again. The confusion on Vincent’s face was fun, but not enough to counter the vulnerability of being slowed and feeling at the mercy of an enemy.

Marinette was nowhere to be found after the attack. The assembly had been at the end of the day, and she lived so close that she'd probably just run home as soon as it had started. He could have texted her to ask if she was okay, but he ultimately decided to see her in person. She’d been so brave, and had helped him get out quickly to transform, though that one was just by chance. He thought either deserved a visit from a superhero. And he wanted to hang out with someone after the unsettling day.

She was leaning against her railing as he approached, running her hands through her wet hair, and he reflexively copied the movement. Some of the students had gotten hit by the oil. He’d been so certain she hadn’t been one of them. It must have been a coincidence.

“Hey, Princess,” he called as he hopped across the street and soared above her onto her roof. She craned her neck to track his arc directly overhead.

Her smile could have lit up the whole street. It certainly made everything around her seem brighter to him. “You’re here! I can’t believe it! Come down here!”

“Of course I’m here. Got to check on all the crazy civilians who try to stop akumas. Lucky for me you were the only one today.”

He climbed down from the rooftop to her balcony. Marinette’s smile was weaker, like she was propping it up with tape. “You’re just here to check up on me? That’s it?”

“Uh, yes? Well, to say thank you for your help and warn you not to do it again, I guess.” Had she been expecting something else? He’d seen her a few times while he was suited up, and she’d never acted like his presence was unwelcome on its own. Like he wasn’t enough.

“Oh,” she said, shoulders falling and taped-on smile completely disappearing. “Then you’re welcome, I guess.”

“Cool. Good.” He still stood in the middle of her balcony. At the center of all her plants. “I’ll just go then.”

“Wait,” Marinette said before he could extend his baton for a quick escape. “I need to give you something.” And she grabbed him in a hug.

Chat Noir stood completely frozen for the first half of the hug, before finally reaching an arm up and patting her awkwardly on the elbow. “Did you need anything else?” he asked. She would probably let him fix whatever mistake he’d made if she was willing to hug him.

“Yes, but I don’t think it’ll happen today.” She let him go and stepped back, clasping her hands behind her.

“What is it?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Maybe tomorrow. You should go.” She was still shaking her head at him as he slunk back in the direction of his room.

Chapter Six

Tag: @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alittlewolf2 @delectablycoolscientist @mlbigbang

#ladynoir #adrinette #marichat #miraculous #miraculous ladybug

67 notes · View notes

lildoodlenoodle · 2 years ago

Text

Spider Freaks(affectionate) no.7

Spider Noir:

Unlike most spider people, Noir wasn’t bitten by a radioactive spider, but rather a mystical spider that came out of a statue of a spider god. After being bit he sees or hallucinates a spider god, Anansi(Akan), Ereshkigal(Mesopotamian), or Neith(Egyptian) all are possibilities(kinda but that’s another post). He wakes up covered in webs and has spider powers. It’s kinda similar to Araña/Aña(Anya) Corazón in some respects to their origins.

So right off the bat, his powers are mystical and not radioactive, which is evident in how his spider sense presents. He does have super strength, but it is a fair bit below the average spider person. We’ve seen him more or less control some spiders that we believe are the same type as the one that bit him. He has organic webbing that is black(it’s white in the movie and in some comics, but it stayed black in my heart). Because of the mystical aspect to his powers there is most likely more beneath the surface but we’re getting into headcanon territory.

WELCOME TO HEADCANON TERRITORY

Personally, I think all the spiders should be freaks. Make them more like spiders, make them less human, love that shit.

Spider noir powers are mystic(or multidimensional depending on how you wanna spin it)in origin. With most spiders powers it’s very concrete on how they got them and what the effects of said event were. Noir is a bit of a wild card in that respect, because we don’t even know if the spider god is real or not. Spider Noir is an unreliable narrator because of that.

Now the color webbing change and what that means:

No, I don’t like it but it furthers a theory I have. If the spider god is real then it is changing Peter throughout the series. Originally the webbing was black, after Peter meets the other spider people it turns white(this was probably an artistic choice due to new people being on the comic but still). This shows that he’s still changing AFTER the initial bite. We’ve seen something like this with other versions of Spider-Man, but they usually keep changing until they turn into an actual spider-human creature. The difference between Noir and those other examples is that a radioactive spider is not sentient. It is not choosing how much of a spider you are becoming. A spider god on the other hand very much could.

Now this, this could mean anything. What does a spider god consider to be important spidery changes? It’s difficult to tell for a bunch of reasons, especially for the ‘Why?’. But things I’d think could be possibilities include:

BLACK WEBBING

Claws/talons

Excessive hair

Exhibiting spidery behavior/instincts

Extra limbs

Fangs with venom(could liquify preys’ inside or just be death or paralyzing venom)

Mandibles

More eyes

Oral pedipalps

Spider limbs(think Kaine Parker)

Split lower jaw

Split upper jaw

Stinger(again Kaine Parker)

Talking to spiders

And more, probably. The ones in bold are my HCs but literally any of these could happen if he continues to ‘mutate’.

And, last one, brought to you courtesy of Burning Matches on AO3, the wind. Remember that scene from the first movie?

“Wherever I go the wind follows, and the wind smells like rain”*dramatic pose*

This could totally be put on the role of an exaggerated caricature of a noir film PI Noir is filling but let’s assume it’s not. Instead it’s a manifestation of the spider god, ‘following’ him. Because it’s not wind, it’s breathing. Which is insane and terrifying but it is one of my favorite headcanons that came out of that fic.

Feel free to add any more freaky biology or spidergod headcanons in the comments/tags! I love hearing this shit!!!

#spiderman noir #Spider-Man #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spider god #spider noir #ITSV #ATSV #spider noir conspiracies

168 notes · View notes

xhanisai · 7 months ago

Text

Chat Noir is spoiling his Lady too much... (SOURCE: Scarabella)

AO3

Pairing - Ladynoir

Prompt - 'Chocolate'

Summary -

"No, no, no! You will not spend over €300 daily on chocolate for her! She goes through the entire box in MINUTES." Scarabella then momentarily muttered to herself but Chat Noir picked up every single word. "Not to mention that she refuses to share with me or Tikki." She went back to glaring at him. "Oh, and don’t let me get started on the sleepovers."

He could only cock his head to the side in confusion.

~(x)~

"Debauve and Gallais. DEBAUVE AND GALLAIS. You just had to be Monsieur. Parfait and get her the most expensive chocolates every time she's on her period! I CAN'T AFFORD TO GET HER THOSE EVERY TIME SHE HAS A CRAVING!!!!" When Scarabella snatched his unassuming frame off the designated rooftop with her yoyo as soon as he arrived for patrol, Chat Noir already braced himself for a verbal lashing from his Lady's best friend. He just didn't expect it to be regarding the way he dotes on the love of his life nor did he expect it to be somewhat of a problem for everyone else...?

"But my Lady deserves the best in the world." Was all he could answer, coming across as a little bit whingey and just like Guangdang's sad-looking cat (still tied up by the bandalore's wire and his kitten ears flat against his golden hair). "You guys should let me know whenever she has a craving. I can get them right away, it's no problem."

He could only cock his head to the side in confusion.

"I now get ZERO hours of sleep because SOMEBODY has conditioned Ladybug into becoming a cuddler! Not only does it get so hot and make me all gross and sweaty— her grip is so TIGHT that I swear she's probably broken one of my ribs! Maybe two or three! This is all your fault!" She jabbed a finger at his forehead and not even his surprised little "miaou!?" was enough to cool her down.

"W-Well. Maybe you should just get stronger. Then her cuddles won't feel so tight. Or just call me and I'll cuddle with her since I’m her boyfriend, slash future-husband in the process. You should be honoured to even get my Lady's cuddles. Hmmph!" He bleated, squirming on the spot and trying to get out of his bounds. Thankfully for him, Scarabella dropped her yoyo to silently scream into her hands and the hero was finally free.

"You're insufferable!" She whisper-shouted.

"But my Ladybug loves me this way~! And I’m gonna go buy her five boxes of those chocolates tonight~!"

The rest of the patrol was spent with Scarabella chasing and nagging Chat Noir like an angry mother and the latter acting like a bratty child who found joy in winding her up. Their bickering was so loud, they unfortunately caused the akumatisation of a very sleep-deprived man who had a shift starting at five in the morning and he did not appreciate their lack of consideration.

All the while, Marinette was knocked out in her bed, trying to sleep her period pain away and blissfully dreaming about her favourite chocolates that had captured her entire heart since the first bite.

~(x)~

#my writing #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #ml fanfiction #ml fanfics #ladynoir #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #scarabella

27 notes · View notes

justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year ago

Text

It Had To Be You - Peter (Noir) Parker X Female Reader

Title: It Had To Be You

Peter (Noir) Parker X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Aunt May (Mentioned), Peter B. Parker, Gwen, Miles (Mentioned), Miguel (Mentioned), and a random old man (Mentioned)

WC: 3,963

Warnings: Post Into The Spiderverse, Post Across The Spiderverse, Pre Beyond The Spiderverse, typical Spider-Man canon violence briefly mentioned, domestic as hell, brief mention to injuries, teasing, banter, flirting, crying, Nazis mentioned very briefly, sad goodbyes, shattered glass briefly mentioned (nothing bad), spiders, death mentioned, spider bites mentioned, angst, and fluff

You were humming to a song that was playing from your phone speaker, shaking your hips side to side with the beat as you stirred the soup on the stove. Today was a good day. You woke up on the right side of the bed - cuddled up next to the love of your life - and took a shower before starting to make soup for lunch. This was a typical Saturday for you and your long-time boyfriend. You had spent the entire morning watching Netflix with him, lounging around, and doing nothing at all; minus getting up to make Egg Creams, cook up a snack, etcetera.

Two arms slowly wrapped around your waist from behind, a stubbly face dipping down to nuzzle into your neck; making you giggle a little. You felt the cool rim of his glasses brush against you, little wisps of his hair tickling your cheek. You switched the stirring spoon into your other hand, now freeing your more dominant hand to raise and slide into his hair, fingers combing through his soft, dark locks. "Afternoon, handsome," You whispered, leaning back into his embrace. You turned slightly so that you could see his face; your lips brushing against his forehead. He pulled away to smile softly at you, his circle glasses slightly askew on his face before giving you a kiss on the lips. You returned it warmly, feeling the corners of your mouth tugging up into a grin. The kitchen was quiet except for the sounds of your music echoing throughout the room. Pulling back, you looked up at Peter, unable to stop the smile on your face as you just looked at him. He stole your breath away, every time, every day. From his strong jawline, the little dimples on the corners of his cheeks, the little wrinkles near his eyes... His hair was ruffled and messy from sleep; adorable. The way his skin glowed golden in the sunlight pouring in from the large windows on either side of the kitchen, illuminated his handsome features; breathtaking. Even the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at you, always lighting up like Christmas lights. That gorgeous smile... You couldn't look away. Your eyes were drawn to his. "Did you sleep well, Pete? Good nap?" You asked, voice soft as you glanced at the soup, returning to stirring it so it wouldn't burn.

"Best nap," He muttered, his own voice deep and a bit gruff, still trying to wake himself up fully. He gave you another kiss on the lips before turning you around in his arms to face the stove once more. His arms lay secured around your waist, his chin gently resting upon your head as he watched you cook the soup. "What have you been up to, doll?" He asked, pressing a light kiss onto the top of your head. Your hair smelled faintly of vanilla and pomegranate from the shampoo you used this morning.

"I’ve been doing some reading." You sighed happily, smiling over your shoulder at him. He could tell by how relaxed you were. "As always," You let out a small laugh, making Peter smile. "Oh! Could you taste-test this for me, please? I don't know if I should add more basil or not..." You asked the man, turning slightly in his hold to look up at him.

Reluctantly letting you go, Peter nodded as you turned and scooped up a bit of the warm soup on the wooden spoon. Softly blowing on it, you raised the spoon up to Peter's mouth, who obediently opened his mouth and let you feed him; your hand coming up under his chin to make sure nothing fell. The sweet, creamy taste of mushroom filled Peter's senses, making him hum as he closed his eyes happily. When he finally swallowed, he smiled down at you, watching as you stared up at him expectantly.

"So..?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"It's perfect, Y/N." He chuckled quietly, making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

You looked down at the soup on the stove, turning the dial to 'warm,' "It doesn't need anything?" You asked, turning back to look up at Peter who nodded. "Are you sure?"

"I am absolutely sure, doll, the soup tastes phenomenal." You looked up at him again, a flush coming to your cheeks, causing him to lean down to press a soft kiss to your burning cheek. "And it smells delicious as well," He added, making you smile.

"Well," You began, biting your bottom lip briefly as you gestured to the soap with a smirk, "Get a bowl before I eat it all then."

~~~

Sitting on the couch, you leaned your head against Peter's shoulder, watching some movie that you both were interested in. His arm draped loosely around your shoulders, holding you close to him. His free hand in his lap, he held onto a Rubik's Cube, half-finished; fiddling with it. Peter, normally, would've had his full attention on the TV screen, but every once in a while, he found his gaze being drawn to you. You were such a beautiful person. You were kind and gentle, thoughtful, and creative. There wasn't a single thing Peter didn't love about you. Peter loved you. You were his everything.

Five years ago, Peter was just minding his own business, working on taking down a corrupt politician, when he felt an odd sensation flow through him. His Spider-Senses activated, alerting him to danger, and that's when a very familiar portal popped up in his office, sucking him in.

He remembered falling, a searing pain coursing through him before he fell flat on his face in a rose garden. He didn't know how long he was out for, but when he opened his eyes, he groaned and sat up. Looking around, he found himself in a small yard, surrounded by flowers - slightly smashed from his landing - in what seemed to be the backyard of a small home. It reminded him a lot of Aunt May's. He finally realized that he must have jumped universes again. Since, unlike his world, he was seeing in all colors. No more grayscale. And though he was still having a bit of trouble recognizing most colors, he knew that the roses that he fell on were indeed the color red.

That's when you appeared, like an angel, immediately coming to the mysterious man's aid. You seemed not to question his attire, why he was in your backyard, nor his pale, grayscale face when you cleaned up a small rose thorn scratch on his cheek. From that moment, Peter knew that he was a goner. He was confused as to where he was, who you were, and why you were so calm and not scared by him; a man in a dark trenchcoat and fedora. He had just fallen into your backyard for crying out loud... How were you so calm?

Peter didn't have to wait long to get the answers to his questions. You answered everything. He was in New York, Queens, in your home, in the year 2023. You told him your name, which Peter repeated a few times in his head, in awe of you. That's when you asked Peter who he was, and he answered honestly. He was Peter Parker. He was Spider-Man. A small, sad smile had fallen upon your lips, as you listened to Peter explain his side of things; alternate dimensions, other Spider-Men and Women, villains, portals, everything. You listened to every word.

And that was the start of your friendship and later relationship.

Over time, Peter lost the urge to try and find a way back to his dimension. He had thought, just like last time, that his atoms would combust, but nothing happened. He was feeling fine physically and never glitched or combusted in the following days and even weeks to come. In the beginning, in the first few weeks, Peter tried all he could to find a way back, but nothing seemed to be working. No amount of books, research, or snooping around Oscorp and Alchemax helped. The misery that had befallen Peter was unbearable. He didn't want to give up, but there seemed to have been no way for him to get home. Peter had a rain cloud over his head, but you were the sunshine that broke through it and brought him back to life. You were the one who kept him going. You encouraged him to keep trying, to keep searching. You knew that he would find a way home.

But weeks turned into months, and months into years. And Peter forgot about his life in his universe once he fell in love with you. He had crippled his emotions for so long that he had almost forgotten how great it felt to be in love. And though he loved his universe, he loved you so much more. So, Peter made the choice to stay with you and had been staying with you for the past five years. And everything was like a dream.

~~~

"Peter, honey, are you alright?" You asked, snapping Peter out of his memories and daydreams, his eyes still on you.

Peter blinked, dropping his Rubik's Cube on his lap. He raised his hand to press it against his lips as he turned his head and cleared his throat. His pale cheeks tinted a deeper shade of light gray, which made you smile; that shade of gray had become one of your favorites. "I'm alright, doll," He answered, turning to face you once more, giving you a small, sheepish smile. "Just thinking."

“That’s dangerous,” You joked playfully, - earning an eye roll and grin - leaning towards him, you placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "About what?" You asked, admiring the man beside you.

Peter sighed softly, "The night we met," He answered, looking down at the Rubik's Cube. "And I was just thinking about you in general."

Your smile grew wider. Peter was so sweet to you. Sometimes you wondered if he even knew how sweet he really was. Sure, he said sweet things all the time, but sometimes he seemed too good to be true. How was he even real? Raising your hand, you gently slid the bridge of Peter's glasses up his nose with a finger, "I love you, Peter Parker," You whispered, leaning over until your foreheads touched. "More than anything in the world." Your eyes fluttered lightly as you waited for a response from him.

"I love you more, darling," Peter murmured back, resting his free hand on your waist as he pulled you closer. The sound of a soft knock interrupted the couple's moment, and you broke apart, both confused. "Were you expecting someone?" Peter asked, and you shook your head with a small, confused frown.

"No, I wasn't... You?" Peter shook his head slowly, rising from the couch and walking to the door, opening it cautiously; on high alert. Standing outside the doorway were none other than Peter B. Parker and Gwen.

Peter's eyes widened as he quickly let them in and shut the door, and you soon came around the corner, stopping at the sight of Spider-Man and the Spider-Woman. With a small frown, you moved your gaze from the two newcomers to your Peter. Fiddling with the way-too-big sleeves of Peter's gray, cable-knit sweater you wore, you stood next to Peter.

The two newcomers that you had assumed were Peter B. and Gwen, from the many stories your Peter would tell you about the fight with Doc Ock and Kingpin. They were staring at you with wide, shocked expressions on their faces.

"Um... Hello," You greeted awkwardly, waving your hand in the air briefly. "You must be Peter B. and Gwen." You continued, moving your glance to each of them respectively.

Peter B. then took a step forward, his eyebrows narrowed, "Sorry, but who are you?"

Your Peter slowly wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his side, "This is Y/N, my girl... After I landed here a few years ago, she took me in and tried to help me get back to my own dimension..." He answered, his gaze never leaving yours as he spoke.

Peter B’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping slightly, “A few years? How long have you been here?”

“And without glitching?” Gwen added, your eyes anxiously glanced from your Peter to the others, very confused.

"A little over five years," Your Peter answered, your arm coming up to wrap around his waist, fingers clutching onto the side of his black turtleneck sweater. “And that is still something that I have not quite put my finger on…” Peter muttered to himself, his eyes behind his circle frame narrowing slightly in thought.

Their jaws dropped, "Five years!?" Peter B. exclaimed, and you and your Peter nodded. “Time must work differently here…”

Gwen shook her head before she took a step forward, "We’ve searched for you in your dimension,” She spoke, lowering her white hood, “But you weren’t there… It took us a while to find you…”

“But we’ve found you, that’s all that matters.” Peter slightly interrupted, a look of determination on his face, “We need your help. Miles needs our help.”

You noticed your Peter’s expression darkened slightly, “What happened?”

You listened as Peter B. and Gwen expanded everything that had happened - the Spider Society, Miguel, Canon events, and so on - your confusion over everything seemed to lessen a bit; even when they brought up the clear time difference between your Earth-081962 and almost every other Earth dimension; which still confused you as to why your dimension was five years ahead of everyone else's.

“And with this device, we can help Miles,” Gwen gestured to the watch-looking object on her wrist, “And after, we can get you back to your own dimension.” Her voice held so much hope, you swallowed thickly as your mind raced.

Your Peter looked down at you, feeling your hand around him tighten slightly, but you didn't look up from the creme carpet. Peter was conflicted. The Peter a couple of years prior would've jumped at the opportunity to go back to his own universe, but now... Now all he wanted to do was stay here. With you. He couldn't bear the idea of being separated from you. "I need to speak with Y/N alone for a moment." He spoke up before leading you down the hall and into your shared room. "I'm not going to leave you." He spoke with conviction once you both entered the room, only for you to shake your head.

Quickly taking his hands in yours, you shook your head, "No, no, Pete, honey... You have to do this-"

He cut you off, shaking his head violently, "No, Y/N, please... I can't lose you." Peter pleaded, his eyes begging you not to make this decision for him. It broke your heart that he was willing to give up his chance to go home, to return to his own time. “I’ll come back to you after I help Miles.”

"Peter, you can go home! Back to your PI job and saving people from stupid Nazis." You tried to reason with him, tears starting to gather in your eyes, Peter's hands turning to hold yours, squeezing gently. “You can go home.”

"You're my home!" Peter countered, causing your breath to catch in your throat, tears streamed down your face. "You're my home, darling," His voice broke, but he held his ground. "I can't live without you." His eyes softened, but he remained firm. "Please, don't do this."

You let out a small sob, your shoulders shaking lightly. "Please... Peter..."

"I love you." With those words, Peter released your hands, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you tightly against his chest. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, gripping onto the back of his turtleneck sweater. For a minute, neither of you moved. Neither of you dared to move an inch. Neither of you dared to breathe. You both just held on tight.

You pushed your face into his chest, squeezing your eyes shut as you rubbed your cheek on the soft material of his sweater, "I love you more," You breathed out after a moment, sniffling, "But you have to go home after you save Miles."

"Y/N, darling-"

Pulling back, you moved your hands up to cup his stubbly cheeks, staring into those dark eyes that you loved so much. "I need you to go home." You stated, letting your thumbs brush away the stray tears on his cheeks; hating the words that were coming out of your mouth. "I've loved every single moment that I've got with you, Peter, but... But I need you to go home, honey."

Peter closed his eyes, letting his head drop to rest against yours. He let out a deep sigh before suddenly dipping his head down to capture your lips with his own. You gasped softly, returning his kiss, tears began to roll down your cheeks, mixing with the tears that were falling from Peter's. The kiss was gentle yet desperate, and it left both of you breathless, pulling away slowly. His lips pulled away reluctantly, leaving your lips feeling cold.

"Go save Miles, Peter." You muttered, pressing your forehead against his. Peter nodded slowly, tears filling his eyes. Giving you one last kiss, he slowly backed away from you, unable to break his gaze from you. "I'll see you some other time." You finished, your voice barely above a whisper.

At the door, Peter paused, bracing himself on the doorframe, "At least that's better than 'goodbye.'" He tried to joke, smiling weakly at you, but you could see how broken he looked, and you felt the same. He took a deep, shaky breath. "See you later, doll."

And then he was gone. You stood there, staring at the doorway, hearing muffled voices, the front door shutting... And then silence. Walking backward, you plopped down on the bed, staring at the wall. You took in a deep breath, letting a shaky breath out afterward. Your chest seemed to tighten, you felt as if your heart had stopped beating. You placed your hand over your chest, rubbing it gently. Closing your eyes and taking another deep breath, you focused on the feeling of your hand on your beating heart, but it all came crashing down. Tears erupted from your eyes, pouring down your face like a waterfall.

~~~

Walking down the street, you shuffled past the other busy people, either going home or heading to their late shift at work. You were heading home from yours. You had just recently been hired at some research facility - Alchemax - as an accounting assistant. You did want to try for a more scientific job, but they weren't hiring for that sort of position, overall, it was definitely keeping you busy. And you had to keep yourself busy, so you didn't think about Peter. It had been around six months since Peter left for his dimension, and you'd lost count of how many times you'd thought about him. How many times have you thought about him when you woke up at night, half your mind thinking he was right there beside you in bed? Every time you subconsciously began to make Egg Creams, only to realize you had no one to share them with. And every time you heard a song on the radio that reminded you of him, you felt yourself unwilling to finish the day's chores. Every hour that went by felt like an eternity.

But your job was good, paid well, better than the last one that you had when Peter was with you. You were pretty curious about the research the facility was even doing, they were secretive about it. You didn't ask questions, you followed orders and made sure the numbers were all lining up correctly, but you still wondered. However, before your mind could theorize whatever could be happening, you felt someone run into you.

You fell to the concrete sidewalk with a small 'oof,' looking up to see an old man in front of you; also on the sidewalk. Getting over the initial shock, you looked around, seeing what looked to be shards of glass on the ground around you and the man. Before you could say anything, the man went into a panic, looking around the ground frantically. Suddenly, he got to his feet, running off.

You let out a huff, pushing yourself to your feet and brushing off your legs. Thankfully, no glass had harmed you. Letting out a sigh from your nose, you headed back down the sidewalk, ignoring the burning sensation on the back of your head from the slight embarrassment you had gone through.

Once you finally made it home, you quickly got inside and shut the door; locking it. Toeing off your shoes, you kicked them to the side before dragging your feet to your bedroom to get out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable; exhausted after the long day. Tossing your bag on the bed, you riffled through your closet, finding a pair of gray sweats - that were definitely not Peter’s - and fuzzy socks. Trying to find a comfy top that you felt like wearing, your hand paused on one. The gray, cable-knit sweater, one of Peter's sweaters; your favorite one. Without a second thought, you pulled it over your head, your hair becoming a bit frazzled in the process. Pulling the collar up, you took in a deep breath, only to frown. It had already lost his scent. The accords of lavender and mandarin, the hint of sandalwood.

Walking back into your bed, you sat down, still clutching the sweater tightly in your hands. Looking down at the piece of clothing, you sighed. You loved the sweater. It was way too big for you, the sleeves passing your fingers by more than an inch, the hem reaching around mid-thigh. But you couldn't stop missing the smell of Peter's cologne that was embedded in the fabric. And you’d ever smell it again.

You laid back on your bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tightly to your chest. Shutting your eyes, you let out a sigh. You were about to get up and make yourself some dinner, but then you paused. Frozen, you felt something small crawling on you. Immediately, you jumped up, feeling the tickling crawling start to wander down your arm. Quickly, scrambling to pull up your sleeve, you watched as a small, red spider crawled up your arm and onto your hand, and before you could do anything, you felt a sharp sting.

You yelped in pain, hitting the spider off of you, and pulling your hand to your chest. Staring intently at the small spider on the ground, it was all curled up; dead. Letting out a deep breath, you jiggled around a bit, creeped out from the feeling of the spider running along your body. Sitting back down, you planned to take care of the spider after checking your hand. Pulling your arm back, you looked at your hand. Raising it up in front of you, you winced slightly at the sight of a large red bump on the middle of the back of your hand. It looked terrible…

Feeling a bit odd, you blinked repeatedly. Bringing another hand up, you held your head as a huge migraine began to form behind your eyes; your mind foggy. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to calm down. Shaking your head lightly, you squeezed your eyes shut, a ringing starting to sound in your ears. You could feel the headache growing, burning. Then you opened your eyes, suddenly becoming very aware of everything around you. And then... Everything stopped.

44 notes · View notes