#peter's backstory is something I turn over and over in my head

[cogentranting]

There's a direct line from seven-year-old Peter crying and saying "I know I sound crazy, but I'm not" when he talks about being kidnapped from "the other world at the bottom of the lake" and then being subsequently gaslit into repressing all the memories of his childhood, to adult Peter's anger at Walter because-- in his words-- "being crazy was something he did to us" and his bitter sarcasm early in the series in response to every fringe event or theory that sounds weird or crazy.

There's a deep-seated fear of being disbelieved or seen as crazy, and that anger and sarcasm come as a defense mechanism. It's probably also what led to his time as a drifter and (essentially) con-man.

[inkpotsprite]

I came up with this AU a while back - probably a few months after I stumbled into this fandom - and it's been bouncing around in my head for a while. (Excuse the scatterbrained nature of this post, I'm just writing my thoughts as they come)

Tim Drake meets Peter Pan (OUAT edition)

I mean, he's the perfect candidate for a lost boy. Neglected, lonely and will probably become scarily loyal to the first person who offers him a way out of that. Not to mention, he's smart, has loose morals (I mean, he did stalk and blackmail Batman) and can be a little ruthless at times, he'd be Peter's right hand man in no time.

So, he lives as a lost boy for a while, but finds Peter's ways of doing things too dark or cruel and, being the baby genius he is, escaped from Neverland, back to Gotham.

But also, we could combine this concept with the Tim joins the family early trope. Like, he goes to Neverland a couple of times, but also starts connecting with the Waynes, so that could be part of the reason he's able to let go of that loyalty to Peter, because he's got something better waiting for him. He never tells the Wayne's about his time in Neverland, worrying that they'll see him differently due to the morally grey things he did there as Peter's right hand man. Tim deals with quite a bit of imposter syndrome and insecurity, but ultimately, he's more happy than not.

Then, a few years later, Damian comes in and is all, well, Damian about things which makes things take a bad turn for Tim. The family is bad at balance/communication and Tim "Abandonment Issues" Drake is a very unreliable narrator at times, so it's angst galore. Then Peter turns up again.

Tim goes with him to Neverland, this time with the intention of staying forever.

Or, we could go another route and look into Damian, a kid whose whole life had been uprooted as he's sent to live with a father he's never met and with a family with vastly different dynamics to what he's used to. He's not neglected, but he's certainly lonely. Especially when being held up to expectations and moral standards that he finds impossible to comprehend after being raised by Talia and Ra's.

So Peter comes back, but he takes Damian instead, as a way to lure Tim back to Neverland. And, even if he doesn't like Damian much right now, of course Tim will go after him because that's his little brother and no way in hell is he letting Peter take him.

We could even sprinkle in a little backstory about Peter knowing Bruce from when Bruce was a kid, after his parents died. Now, two of Bruce's sons are missing and he has to find a way to Neverland.

That's where Jason comes in. Jason Todd, the ultimate lost boy who never was. Not for lack of trying. Peter's shadow swooped down to get him when he was living on the streets, but Jay isn't some naive kid, he's a Gothamite, a Crime Alley kid and he knows that if someone - even that someone is a creepy shadow person - grabs you and tries to get you to a secondary location, you fucking fight it with all you have. So, Jason never makes it to Neverland. Instead, he fights so hard that the shadow drops him, right onto Captain Hook - Killian Jones' - ship. They bond, Killian teaches Jason the ropes, but Jason ultimately decides to go back to Gotham for whatever reason (maybe Killian messes up or Jason's trust issues get the better of him) and he leaves.

We could also play around with parallels between Bruce and Peter. Both taking in lost, lonely kids that no one else wants, having them fight battles, Peter could even hit Bruce with that 'at least my boys will never die' as if forcing them to live forever in eternal stagnation is so much better.

While in Neverland together, Tim and Damian start to bond over their feelings of never truly belonging anywhere. That they'll be forever defined by what they did over who they are. As they grow closer, Tim reassures Damian that he will always belong with him, to give him the chance to prove it.

Meanwhile, Bruce, Dick and Jason are on their way to Neverland. And Peter is ready to start playing the game.

... And that's all I've got so far.

[leilohsstupidgaystuff]

Erik knew there was going to be trouble, when he saw the shit-eating grin of his son, who came towards him.

"Sooo... I heard you're in love with my favourite professor?"

Well... fuck. On the inside, Erik slammed his head against the nearest wall. On the outside his expression remained as cold, as it was before Peter had spoken way too loud about his annoying secret. "I have really not the slightest idea, what you're talking about."

Much too Eriks displeasure Peters grin didn't fade, if anything at all, it just got wider. "You know you're not the only one here anymore that talks german, do you?"

Erik didn't answer to this. He was aware of Peters new friendship and he really hoped this conversation wouldn't go as he feard it would.

"And if, let's say you confess your undying love to your 'old friend' in german, so he doesn't understand you, a little blue elf might overhear you and tell his new, really good looking best friend," Peter pointed at himself. "just how adorable his father actually is."

Erik glared at him. The conversation actually went exactly as he had feard. "I don't know what Kurt thinks he heard, but you're talking nonsense."

Peter met his glare with a smile. "You know, this, normaly really scary, look only works, if you're eyes aren't filled with panic. I know you're down bad for the professor."

"What do you want, Peter?"

"You know, as disgusting I think this all is -I mean, you two are really fucking old-"

"Charles just turend 40."

"My point still stands, also: Notice how you didn't talk about your age?" The raised eyebrow of Erik still scared him. "As disgusting this all is, you are way more relaxed around him and things may get easier for me and all of your classes, if you two just get it over with and fuck."

Peter already ducked, before the little metal toycar, some younger student lost in the hallway, hit his head.

"What did I do too deserve you as a son?" Peter opend his mouth to answer, but Erik shut him up with a gesture of his hand. "Don't answer that, it was a rethorical question. I know."

"So you're going to ask him out, or what?"

Erik looked at him like he was mad. "First of all: lower your voice, or I will make sure Logan will make you read your homework out loud the next lesson. Second of all: No, I will not."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "What are you waiting for? Another 20 years to pass by? You know being gay is legal now? Or is dating in your age just really slow? Do you know how to date? Did you ever? Do you-"

"Shut up. I will not embarrass myself in front of Charles and destroy our friendship, by telling him how I... feel."

Peter just looked at him for a few seconds and than bursted out laughing. "You think the prof sees you as a friend? The dude, that talks about you all the time in his lessons, with the biggest hearteyes in the universe? Also isn't the whole story of you two, just a big romantic drama? You know, the pessimistic one with the shitty backstory meets the optimistic one with the big heart, fucks up really bad, but still is being forgiven, because how of much in love the other one is?"

"He talks about me in his lessons?," Erik asked. He had not really paid attention to the other stuff Peter's been saying. Peter looked slightly disgusted. "Oh my god, you're really patheticly in love with him, aren't you?"

Peter looked over Eriks shoulder and the look on his face, already told Erik he was going to do something, that Erik really wouldn't like. "Hey, Prof!"

Erik turned around and saw Charles in the hall, now coming towards them. He looked back at Peter, who would be dead now, if looks could kill, but before he could yell at him, Charles already reached them.

"Good morning, you two." Erik smiled at him, panicking on the inside, as he saw how Peter already started speaking with a very suspicious grin. "Hello Professor, my father and I were just talking abou you. In fact he told me, that he wanted to ask you something very important." The smile on Eriks face faded and his panic started to show on the outside. "I have no idea what he's talking about," he said, way to quickly, to Charles who looked at him now with these goddamm beautifull blue eyes, giving him his full attention.

Enjoying himself, Peter didn't drop the topic. "Oh yes he does. The question goes something like 'Do you have plans this evening?'" Charles smiled amused. "I don't... What's happening here?," he asked turning to Erik again. Erik couldn't even do or say anything, before Peter talked again, so he just put a hand over his face and hoped to just die on the spot.

"My father would like to ask you out, professor. As in a date. A real date not as friends, because he's super in love with you, and I, and all the other students in this school, believe you too, are totally in love with him in return. Also it was nice seeing you, but I will go now, because I think I'm gonna get murderd if I don't." The next moment Peter wasn't there anymore.

Erik slowly lowerd his hand, meeting Charles eyes. Charles had turned a bit red, but he grinned at him. "So you're super in love with me?" Erik let out a small pained laugh. "Shut up." Charles grinned even wider. "Meet me at 7 at the front door?" "Yes, please."

[cxsmicbaby]

something nice - 1

CHAPTER ONE OF A SERIES 

pairing : miguel o’hara x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings : smut at the end! cursing throughout. enjoy :)

you and hobie play a prank. miguel doesn’t like it, but he can never stay mad at you. 

                                                      𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“And then... my uncle died.” 

“Mmhm.” The smell of hot coffee grows stronger. It’s mere inches away.. I just have to suffer through this for a moment longer. 

“And I realized. I’m not even real! I’m just a clone of the real Peter. And that totally destroyed me.”

“Oh wow,” I say, nodding. Ben, or Scarlet Spider, continues to go on about his tragic backstory, somehow still managing to flex his biceps as he begins to well up in tears. 

Finally, the spider in front of me finishes filling their mug and it’s my turn. God, if I had to stand in line with this melodramatic asshole for a second longer I think I would’ve tried to cut my own ears off. He’s still talking as I fill my cup with coffee, but this time I’m not listening. It’s probably some variation of the same things I’ve been through, anyhow. I wonder how Miguel is able to sit through thousands and thousands of these things whenever he recruits a new spider. He’s not a very patient guy. 

Miguel. He walks through the lobby at 5:30am, every morning. I woke up early today so that I would run into him. Not like I said anything to him; I walked past him, smiling, and he just grunted. Just about what I expected. But I still woke up early to see him. I feel a little stupid thinking about it. I’ll probably do it again tomorrow. 

“Yeah, Ben, that really sucks. Maybe you should see a therapist.” I turn and give him a pat on the shoulder, smiling as genuinely as I can. He nods, and wipes his teary eyes. This guy cries way too easily. 

I swing off into the main lobby. Thank god, I can be free. I don’t know what the plan is today, but I’m always up for an adventure. 

“Oi!” I hear, and behind me Hobie is swinging forward, his mask already on. That must mean there’s something happening. Regardless, I’m always happy to see him. He’s probably the only person I really talk to here; other than Miguel. 

“Hey! Got anything for me?” I ask, as we land on a free platform. Hobie pauses for a moment before he starts digging around in his pockets, and pulls out a bag of my favorite snack from his universe; unfortunately, it doesn’t exist anywhere else, so I depend on this not-so-dependable guy to bring them for me. 5/10 times he actually remembers it. 

“What’s with the drink? I thought you hated coffee,” he asks, plopping himself down on the edge of the platform. I do the same, and we watch as the spiders swing and climb all over the place, like a jungle gym. Every time I take a step back from this whole thing like this, it always amazes me. Just a few weeks ago, I was stuck in a universe where I was the only one, and now I’m in a place where everyone is just as corny as me. It’s lovely. 

“I do,” I start, taking a sip of it. I fight the way my lips threaten to purse in disgust. “I needed a pick me up.”

“Ah.” Hobie pulls at a loose thread of his shirt and smiles deviously. “Up all night thinking about Miguel, huh?” 

Hobie is far too observant for my liking. There’s nothing that gets past him, which is great for combat, but not great for me. 

I swallow hard, and shake my head. “No. And you should stop saying shit like that! What if someone overhears? They’ll think something weird is going on.”

“Like?” Here we go. 

“Like. They’ll think I’m in love with him or something. We’re just friends. He’s cool. I’m cool. Everything’s cool.” I sound like an idiot, and I know Hobie thinks the same when I hear him laugh. It’s like I’m a fucking teenager again, gossiping about my crush in the locker-room. I hated high school. 

“Cool, cool. Everything’s cool,” he teases, mocking me. 

We’re both quiet, basking for a moment in the odd sort of peace that comes out of this chaotic place. 

Hobie snickers softly, shaking his head at something that he’s thought of. “Heard some of the others talking bout how Miguel’s pickin’ favorites. Guess who’s the favorite?”

I sigh, and down the rest of the disgusting black liquid. “Whatever. I’m not his, uh. His favorite. He talks down to me like all the rest.” 

Hobie is quiet. That’s rare. When I look over at him he’s just staring down, a weird sort of smile still on his face. His fingers are drumming against the platform. 

“Hey, what’re we gonna do today? Please say you’ve got something fun.” 

That seems to get him, because his head perks up and that teasing expression is replaced by one of excitement. Thank god. If I had to talk about Miguel for another second it would not have ended well—I tend to get a little loose with the things I say the longer I’m forced to talk about them. 

“Something fun, eh? I’ve got something fun. But only if you’re up for it.” 

I smile. “You know I am.” 

Compared to a lot of the others, I’ve been here for a very short time. Still, I’ve learned the ins and outs, the dos and the don’ts. Like, do listen to what the higher ups (and Lyla) say. Don’t make fun of Miguel’s tediously slow entrance on that weird platform thing. Do make friends. Don’t be an ass. And for god’s sake, do not pull any pranks. 

The thing about spider people; we tend not to really listen to rules. 

Hobie and I are perched on a bar above the lobby. We’re trying to figure out the best way to go about things. Me, I think he should take charge, but he seems to think nobody really likes him, so they won’t listen. He thinks they’ll all fall in line with my beguiling feminine charms and do whatever I say. I think that sounds like bullshit, but I don’t really wanna do the other thing, so I agree to it. 

I drop down smack in the middle of a group of spider-people in a conversation. Immediately, I put on the most panicked expression I can muster and start running around frantically. 

“Jessica’s gone into labor! I repeat, Jessica is giving birth at this moment! Help her get back home so she can go to a hospital... or something!” I shout, trying to get as much attention as I possibly can. Of course, everyone loves Jessica, so everyone starts rushing to her aid. None of them actually know where she is, but they just launch into help-mode, as Spiderman does. Soon, the lobby is basically empty. Sometimes, I think about how gullible I must be if I’m really just a variation of this same person. 

“Coast’s clear,” Hobie calls, dropping down from above. “We don’t have a lotta time, gotta make this quick.” 

I frown. “We? But you said all I had to do was get them out!” 

“Yeah, that was a lie.” Hobie shrugs and tosses me a spray can. “Now, you gonna help or not?” 

The idea of getting caught spraying painting the building Miguel has built specifically for us makes me queasy. The idea of being caught doing anything that would make him upset makes me queasy. But if I back out now, then I just made a fool of myself for no reason. I don’t mind looking stupid, but it’s gotta be for a reason. 

I sigh, and reach up to tug my mask over my face in case someone realizes that Jessica is not even here right now, and decides to come back. I mean, not like I would really be hiding much, considering everyone knows what my suit looks like, but there’s no harm in it. 

The moment I pull it down, the room is doused in red light and an alarm starts blaring. Fuck. 

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, mate,” Hobie groans, tossing his head back in frustration. “That old man did not just sound the alarm ‘cause we’re pulling a goddamn prank. Might as well do as much as we can before the rest of ‘em come back.” 

That does not sound like a good idea. If Miguel is angry enough to turn on the alarm that signifies intruders, he will definitely not like us continuing in spite of his obvious warning. But Hobie’s already swinging up, spraying bright purple in a strangely elegant ribbon across the walls. I start to hear footsteps, but they’re far enough away that I think I have some time. So, despite my better judgement, I follow Hobie, tagging wherever he’s painted with a green design of my own. Gotta admit, it looks pretty dope. That assuages my fears somewhat and I find myself letting go a little, whooping in excitement as I swing around the lobby. 

Then, I hear it again. Footsteps, but I know these very specific footsteps. Heavy, fast, angry. My stomach drops and I land, turning to Hobie to see he’s still painting away. He probably hears it too, he just doesn’t care. I wish I could be as carefree as him. Especially when it came to this sort of thing. 

But I can’t. In fact, once Miguel actually appears in the room, hair slightly disheveled, face twisted up in an almost scary amount of anger, I freeze in place. God, he’s fucking fuming. His eyes sweep the room like we just painted Miguel Sux! in somebody’s blood. And then his gaze lands on me, and I feel myself shiver; in fear, in anticipation, in... something else. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Miguel bellows, and that catches Hobie’s attention. Before he can say anything else, the flake is gone. Typical Hobie. Saving his own ass. I can’t even really be mad at him, because if it weren’t for the annoying way my feet were sticking to the ground I would’ve done the same. 

The alarm shuts off, and the room goes deadly quiet. I’m still staring at him as he approaches me, his chest heaving as he takes deep breaths, probably trying to calm himself down. He needs to see a therapist, I think, but don’t have time to even smile at my own quip before he’s looming right above me. 

“Do you get joy out of causing this type of shit? Out of wasting everyone’s time?” Miguel spits, and I know I’m supposed to be hurt by what he’s saying, but god if I don’t wanna just pounce at him right here, right now. 

So I keep my mouth shut. He doesn’t seem to like that. His fists are clenched tight at his sides as he studies me. 

“You know, if I knew you were gonna be such a fucking nuisance, I would never have brought you here.”

Ouch. That one sort of hurts, so I take off my mask and I look up at him, trying to keep my composure. I frown. “It was just some harmless fun, Miguel. No need to get so mean about it.” 

That was not the right thing to say, apparently, because his eyebrows furrow even deeper. Before he can open his mouth to say something that will probably make me cry, I force a smile and swing up to the wall. 

“And it looks great! Don’t you think this place is too... I don’t know. Sterile? Everyone’s gonna love it.” I hope he can’t hear the way my voice is trembling. When I hear my words echo back to me, I’m relieved to find that I sound quite confident. I’ve always been good at that, faking like I know what I’m doing. I think that’s a Spider-man thing. 

Miguel doesn’t speak. He crosses his arms over his chest and inhales deeply, hanging his head. 

“You are going to clean this shit up. Understood? And when I find that little shit Hobie, I’m gonna tell him the same thing.” 

I think that’s the closest I’ll get to him saying he isn’t really that mad about it, and that’s good enough for me. I swing back down to stand in front of him, and this time when I smile, it’s real. 

“Are you sure? I’m telling you, it looks super—”

Miguel’s eyes narrow and I feel my stomach twist. “Don’t test me.” 

I straighten up and salute him, fighting the urge to run as Miguel’s eyes burn into mine. “Yes, sir!” 

I swear to god, he almost smiles, before he just shakes his head. 

“Don’t do shit like this again. I won’t go so easy on you next time.” 

                                                       𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“You don’t let yourself have anything, do you?” 

Miguel pauses. He finds himself looking up at you, despite the desire to remain stoic and focused and uninterested. It’s always hard to do that, with you. 

“What?” he says, his voice slightly biting. He means it to be. He wants to scare you away so you will leave him alone, finally. It’s been mere weeks since you joined them, and in those weeks, you have made it your mission to annoy him more than anyone ever has in his life. It’s like you live to bother him. He should hate it more than he does. 

He should hate your stupid fucking pranks and your dumb, unfunny jokes. But he doesn’t. He knew it was you today, even before he got to the lobby, but for some reason he wasn’t that mad. And then the fact that he wasn’t mad about it made him mad about it, and he was mean to you. He wants to apologize, but that’s not like him. Everything he does or feels when it comes to you is a contradiction to the person he has built himself up as. The whole thing is just so muddled up he’d rather ignore it. 

You sit on a metal box to his left, swinging your legs back and forth as you scrutinize him. Miguel doesn’t like how you always have this knowing look on your face, like you’re waiting for him to discover something you’ve already found out. Frankly, all the Spider-people have that sort of glint in their eyes, but with you it’s different. He bites the inside of his cheek and forces himself not to look away. 

“I mean, you don’t let yourself have anything nice, or fun. The closest you get to letting yourself feel happiness is those empanadas you make me bring you.” 

You smile at him, and he thinks to himself that he wishes you would do it more, but the moment the thought passes he stamps it out with a frown. 

“And even then, you always scowl when you eat them.” You cancel out his grimace with a little laugh that makes Miguel fucking furious.

“You know, it’s not in your best interest to keep talking about this. If causing a useless ruckus is fun to you, then yeah, I don’t fucking do that.” He practically spits it, and swivels his head to focus again on his work. He doesn’t know if he wants you to apologize or if he wants you to just go. Apologize? He’s kidding himself. You would never. 

He can’t help but listen carefully for your movements, wanting to hear if you’ll leave or not. But he hears nothing, and he turns again to see you just sitting there, swinging your feet. Still smiling. 

“What are you still doing here? Don’t you have shit to do?” Miguel asks, narrowing his eyes at you. He notices that his tone lacks the sting he meant it to deliver and chooses to ignore it. 

You boost yourself up from the box and stand. “Not really. Can’t I just stay? I won’t make any noise, promise.” 

Miguel frowns deeply. “That’s impossible.” But he doesn’t tell you to leave. 

You sigh, your body swaying side to side. Miguel thinks its a subconscious thing you do when you’re standing; most people would just be still, but he’s noticed that you cannot possibly remain perfectly in place for more than a few seconds. 

“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna get some sleep. You should too.” You send him a small wink and turn, walking off toward the exit. You stop briefly, turning to face him with an expression he can’t quite read.

“And, uh. Sorry about today,” you call, and he says nothing. You turn again and he watches you leave. 

Everything has changed since you showed up, and if anything can be taken from his obsession with anomalies, it’s that Miguel hates change. Especially when it seems like there isn’t much changing for anyone but himself. 

It was him that found you. He went on a mission to a universe he had not yet traveled; a rare occasion, because it wasn’t to destroy an anomaly, but because something was telling him to go. It wasn’t like a voice, or even a sense. More like a feeling. There was something there for him to discover and so he went without saying anything, hoping he’d be back before anyone noticed. 

Miguel found you on the roof of a museum. You were sitting on the edge, swinging your feet back and forth, just staring into the streets. You had your mask off, which he remembered thinking was incredibly stupid, seeing as it was still light out. Your suit was nothing to gawk at, nothing too different than the hundreds of others he had seen, but for some reason he knew it was you he was supposed to find. You, he had been called to. For what, he didn’t know.  

You noticed him before he intended you to. When you saw him, you didn’t look shocked, or scared; you looked happy. No one had been happy to see him in a long time. 

“How long you been standing there?” you asked, turning your body to face him. You crossed your legs and watched him approach, staring up at him like he was someone you knew, someone you had been waiting for. 

Miguel was quiet. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. 

“You know, one of us is gonna have to change.” And you laughed hard at your own dumb joke. Your laugh made him uncomfortable, how truly happy it sounded, how real it felt. You seemed like you hadn’t yet experienced the tragic things that came with being a Spiderman. You seemed innocent. Like you needed to be protected. 

And by god, you were beautiful. The suit didn’t leave much to the imagination. 

The thought startled him and he stayed quiet.  

“Your suit is super cool. Kinda cyberpunk.” You stood and you watched him carefully, walking slowly around him in a circle. Miguel’s eyes followed you, his body on guard as if you were going to suddenly lunge at him. 

“Why aren’t you... surprised?” Miguel finally said, his tone accusatory. But you didn’t seem to notice, and if you did you didn’t mind. You stopped in front of him and stuck your hand out, inviting him to shake it. 

“Welcome to Earth-72, Miguel. I’ve been waiting for you.” 

And that’s how he found out about a Dr. Strange, and how you knew about Miguel already; in fact, you were expecting him. The idea made him irrationally angry. Someone like you, obviously flippant and probably reckless, with knowledge about something as dangerous as the multiverse? You were most likely new to your abilities, to the mask. You were too naive and carefree not to be. 

But Miguel was wrong. You had long been bitten, lost your uncle, your sister, your best friend. You just seemed to lack that bitterness that he saw in the others, in himself. You were happy. 

Like most things, that also made Miguel angry. 

You begged him to let you join the Spider Society. You said you had known about it for a while, and you dreamed of being apart of it, of something bigger than yourself. Your words exactly. He was slightly impressed by that, but didn’t show it. In fact, Miguel wanted deeply to say no. But he didn’t, for reasons he’s not quite sure of himself, and that’s how he ended up with a permanent, relentless distraction. He was starting to wish he never brought you back in the first place. 

If you were more like him, he thinks, he probably wouldn’t have this problem. But you’re not. You’re almost the exact opposite. It drives him fucking crazy.

Miguel shook his head, grunting in frustration at his own inability to focus. It seemed even when you weren’t there, he was plagued by the thought of you. 

And think about you he did, for hours on end, sometimes. When he would lie awake in bed, his body aching from the strains of the day. He wouldn’t be able to close his eyes, because the image of you was always waiting for him. Smiling, laughing. Looking up at him with those eyes of yours. He would find himself imagining what it felt like to be close to you. Your skin would be soft, he knew. Your lips would be softer. Your hands, calloused by years of fighting, swinging, winning, losing. How they’d touch him. How they’d hold him. 

How he would touch you. Make you feel good. Make you think about him, just like he thought about you. Make you want him. 

Miguel always lost himself in thoughts like that, and he was usually able to bring himself back to reality. When he got back to his room that night, though, he felt as though he couldn’t push it down. He didn’t let himself have anything nice. And god, did he want something nice. 

The water ran over his taut back, soaking his hair and running down his cheekbones. One hand, splayed against the tile wall, and the other by his side, just inches away from an itch he is fighting not to scratch. His cock is aching. He swears he can see it pulse with every second that passes, every drop of water that lands on his shaft, veins prominent and throbbing. 

Miguel imagines that you’re there with him. That you stand in front of him, and that instead of the wall it’s you he’s touching, your skin slick with water and sweat. That your hands are on his chest, your nails scratching him just the slightest bit, and god, those eyes, staring into his like he’s the only thing that has or ever will matter to you. 

When he finally wraps his hand around his cock, it takes his breath away. 

“Jesus,” he whispers, slowly stroking himself, gripping so tight he’s sure his fingertips are white. It’s not enough. 

Miguel closes his eyes, and immediately he pictures you. He feels almost guilty to think of you this way, on your knees, with your lips wrapped around his dick. But he can’t stop. His breathing grows heavier as he imagines you taking him deep into your throat, gagging on him, your nose brushing against his pelvis. He thinks about what he’d say to you. How he’d tell you how good you were doing, how perfect you were. He grips himself impossibly harder and is unable to stop himself from relentlessly jerking his cock, his hand pushing so hard against the wall he’s afraid it’ll crack. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice breathy and deep. More water drips onto his shaft and immediately he thrusts desperately into his own grip, envisioning that it’s you, spitting on him before you take him in your hand, running your tongue over his tip, looking up at him. 

He thinks about what you’d say to him. He knows he would be too big for you. But you’d try to take him all, because that’s what you do. He’s sure your hand wouldn’t even wrap around his entire length. And you would tell him how big he was, how beautiful you thought he was. You’d probably tease him too, about how quickly he’d been reduced to a mess, how eager he was. He’s surprised at how close that thought brings him, and he has to bite his lip to keep from letting out a shameful moan. 

When Miguel comes, he says your name. It’s not loud; it’s more like a plea, a prayer. His body caves in on itself and he shudders with the force of it, his legs trembling ever so slightly as he tries to bring himself back to reality. He stands there for a moment, trying to catch his breath, feeling a little ashamed at how quickly he finished. He hasn’t had the time to do anything like that in so, so long. He hasn’t let himself. 

He washes himself off and gets out of the shower. 

When Miguel lies in bed, he’s haunted by the thought of having to see you tomorrow, knowing what he’s done. And then he grows angry. You did this to him. And you’re not even trying; you’re just there. What a nuisance you are. 

He tries to close his eyes, but he finds himself plagued by you still. 

                                                      𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

CHAPTER TWO

[strawberrysugasoba]

another update on my magnus archives journey i have just reached the beginning of season for and i am ready for this to take a 100% homoerotic turn.

i actually don’t know if that’s the case because the season 3 q+a had one mention or martins crush and jonny either glazed over that or was very very wrapped up in his answer regarding the question the crush was tied into. either way i’m just hoping they’re in love and i sleep peacefully for one night but pinterest has let me know this is not the case.

tim is also dead hello? i thought with the amount of fans he had surrounding him and the way he was portrayed in fan art he was like this goofy go-round white boy but he was just out for revenge and because of his brother and a kind of a prick?? don’t get me wrong i think he is definitely, or ig was, the most sensible but i was really led to believe by fanart he was a different person entirely.

and micheal!! my poor baby, not true he’s kinda bad but i loved his character and there was just so much more i feel like they could have done with his character. but i think that’s something that happened when you have planned all the way until season 5 what you want to do with the story i just can’t believe that’s that you know. i loved how his voice sounded and his personality and i think that him trying to kill the archivist like that was kind of far fetched for his character. it all seemed to fast to me and i really miss him.

then there’s elias, i love you you evil bastard. i really hope his backstory and reasoning for why he is what he is is just for shits and gigs, like bro got high one day and just happened to find this place that served the eye. i love just evil characters or opportunistic villains bc they just do what suits their needs and i feel like elias’ roll really fits that vibe. also i cannot figure out how old he is in my head, maybe like a doctor strange type of silver fox.

kinda back to martin to end this but imagine getting your evil boss arrested finally and fucking peter lukas just appears. i’d probably shit and vomit holy cow. but tbh i think peter is going to be a ‘good’ guy, idk i saw on pinterest though some fanart or him and elias, don’t lie to me guys are they together. PLEASE. i could so get behind that dynamic and it could totally be a joke ship and my heart will hurt bc of what could have been.

[reidslovely]

In a Corner I Haunt (Right Where You Left Me)

Authors Note: This is really sad lmao. I’ve been wanting to write this for a long time and seeing the new set photos really just inspired me..angst to come. It is my birthday week so count this as a small gift from me to you!

Pairing: Peter Parker x Fem! Reader 

Warnings: Break up, lovers to strangers to whatever this is, my first big angst piece me thinks. 

As always please reblog and comment! ___________________________________

The back of the restaurant was her favorite place to sit. It was perfect for watching who came in and out of the bar. Watching those strangers who came in alone and left with someone they met at the bar for a night. Watching the families stumble in. Kids excited to leave the house for the night, the parents looking at one another with a certain kind of admiration after however many years. She watched awkward dates take place, she was here almost every night, same table, same glass of wine, same order.

She wondered if anyone ever watched her in return.

She wondered if anyone thought about her story, why she was here almost every night. Why she sat in the same place of the old brick building, looking out the window of the decades old building. But maybe to the outsiders she was just a ghost stuck in the loop of her most heartbreaking moment. The moment where she felt like she died.

Her excitement peaked as she closed the umbrella under the awning of the brick building. Peter was sitting at their usual table in the back corner of the restaurant dressed in a dark green dress shirt and black slacks. His hair was slightly disheveled, only becoming more messy as he nervously ran his hand through it turning his head to look out the window, (Y/N) smiled raising her hand waving excitedly. Finally her feet carried her into the building, over to the usual table.

“You look handsome.” She spoke leaning down to place a quick kiss on his lips. Peter returned the kiss quickly, being the first to pull away. She paid this no mind. Tonight was a big night, that’s why Peter was nervous.

No other reason.

Peter gave his awkward grimace up to her, which (Y/N) returned excitedly, the tension building in her stomach as she settled across from him. “There are my favorite lovebirds..the usual? Glass of our cheapest red, with an order of flatbread and gnocchi?” The waiter spoke excitedly, clapping his hands together.

“That’ll be perfect Andrew thank you.” Peter spoke swallowing hard, his hands shaking as he spoke. (Y/N) reached out to hold his hand, Peter let it linger for only seconds before dropping her hand patting the top of it. Andrew rushed off, leaving the two alone.

“How was your day?” (Y/N) asked, sipping her water, playing with the locket around her neck which held a photo of her and Peter on the inside.

“Busy. Worked in the lab all morning, had a presentation with Otto that took forever, then I…got the subway here.”

His account of his day was short. Nothing out of the ordinary for when Peter was nervous. He didn’t eat breakfast she had made this morning, rushing off forgetting the usual routine. Breakfast, a goodbye kiss, him forgetting his keys or something else important, before kissing her once more. But this morning everything had gone smoothly, but he left as soon as he got dressed.

She hoped maybe he just didn’t want to ruin any surprises.

She went on the account her day for him, it was short also her excitement making her speech a thousand miles a minute. Her body was on fire basically hoping that in a minute now he’d pull out a ring and ask her to marry him.

It never came. Instead they sat in silence, their wine coming out first Peter was downing it glass after glass. Throughout dinner he was quiet. No quips, no people watching and making up fake backstories for them.

Just silence.

Until after dinner, he reached across the table grabbing her hand. Turning it over in his, her palm facing up.

Now.  Now was the moment, Finally he was gonna do it. Quick and simple.

A cold metal dropped into her hand and she looked down to see the key she had given him to her apartment. She looked at Peter confused, furrowing her eyebrows at him.

“I think..I’m sorry. I’m breaking up with you. I, uh, I can’t do this. I love you but I do think it’s best.”

If she was on fire before, her body had broken out in chills, her hair standing on end. Suddenly she could hear every small sound in the restaurant, his voice amplified by ten.

“But I can’t do this. We aren’t right for each other, I’m not right for you. We just don’t fit together anymore..I’m always at the lab and you’re waiting for me at home. This is not how we should be spending our twenties.” He laughs. He’s laughing at her, everyone is laughing at her even if they don’t know it.

“Pete..” Her voice breaks as he stands up. Grabbing his coat biting the inside of her cheek, she reached out for him knocking the wine glass over it shattered on the floor.

“I said it’s over, (Y/N). It’s done. Don’t do this, don’t embarrass yourself begging for a man. You’re better than that.”

It felt like she just had venom spit in her face. Her jaw twitched as she gazed up at him with wet eyelashes, a choked breath left her mouth as she began to cry. Peter turned and walked away. Left her there in that restaurant, tears rolling down her face.

The sun on the window of the restaurant warmed her face as she sipped what was left in her glass. Her hair clipped off her face, though she was older now by several years she still saw that twenty-three year old girl in the reflection.

“Check?” Andrew asked to come to collect the empty dishes. 

“Oh uh yeah.” She smiles up at him. Andrew nodded at her walking off with her dishes, she slipped her arms through her sweater tucking a few stray pieces of hair away as she dug in her bag for her card.

As the bell of the restaurant rang she looked up out of reflex, her heart jumping into her throat as she looked at the ghost from the past in front of her. Coffee in hand, dressed nicely in a brown sportcoat and a blue button down, all nicely ironed and buttoned correctly. He had grown up. (Y/N) took a deep breath and smiled at him, lifting her hand to wave at him. Peter walked over slowly, swallowing harshly taking a seat across from her.

“I thought that was you. I was walking towards the school up the road and..I had to know.” 

Peter’s hand gestures anxiously in the air as he talks. Running a hand through his perfectly styled hair.

“It’s me.” She gives him a downward smile laced with a certain bittersweet message behind it.

“How..have you been?”

“I’m good, I'm writing for the Bugle. Jameson finally gave me my own office.”

“I know I read your pieces every morning when I have coffee. I meant..”

“I’m good Peter.”

It was a bittersweet lie. She sat here every Friday watching the people move on with their lives, new people come and go. Watching everything play out in the corner. Part of her hoping she’d blink and she’d be back in that moment that she could stop it before it happened. Peter Parker was the only man she had ever loved, and she’d accepted she’d probably never love again.

“I was scared.” He spoke after a few minutes of silence. “I was so scared. You were perfect, you had everything planned. You saw a side of me I never saw, and that terrified me. I was scared of ruining you. I was scared of…you leaving me. I was twenty six and I didn’t have anything planned out, and I was scared one morning you were gonna wake up and you were gonna see that.” He laughed, playing with his fingers, twisting a gold band that sat happily on his left hand. Her heart sank, but she kept her head above the water. “May gave me a ring to propose to with. And that’s what made me run. I am so sorry.”

“We were..so young Peter. I would have followed you to the end of the earth had you asked me. I never intended on leaving you.”

“You didn’t?”

(Y/N) shook her head, giving him a tight lipped smile. He let out a chesty laugh, wiping tears away from his eyes. She caught a glimpse of the ring once more.

“How long have you been…married?”

“Oh uh, god it’ll be 4 years in May.” He nods. “She’s a teacher. I have a daughter too..she’s three she’s at the school with her, I was on my way to pick up. It’s daddy daughter day.”

The water in her mind was getting deeper, she felt the waves pulling her further out. “Whats her name?”

“It’s Camilla.” He nods. “Camilla May Parker.” He laughs, pulling out his phone and pulling up his lock screen. The three captured a perfect family moment Peter with his daughter on his chest and wife on his arm.

That final wave came and pulled her under finally, she wiped away her falling tears. She tried her hardest to hold them back as she looked at him. He had grown into quite the man, he was graying now but only reaching his mid-thirties. He looked just how she pictured he would.

“She’s beautiful, she has your big puppy dog eyes.” She laughs, her body and voice shaking. Suddenly she stood, she needed to get out of this ocean of emotions.

sin “I uhh I have to go Peter. It was really nice seeing you again.” She said biting the inside of her cheek, grabbing her bag and shoving enough cash on the table to pay for the bill that never came. Peter’s hand reached out for her knocking the wine glass to the floor, she looked at him noting the irony in the situation.

“You have a beautiful life Peter..you need to cherish that. We were..basically kids. I will always love you, but I have accepted that you will never love me again. So please go pick up your daughter, and give your wife a kiss and hold her extra tight” She whispers to him as she pulls her hand away. Just like a ghost passing over she finally walked out of the restaurant. Her tears rolled freely down her cheeks and she laughed a bitter laugh at the irony of leaving him right where he left her.

_______________________

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[knowlessman]

"shigaraki has become too powerful. we need to bring in the one person we know who can disable him from a distance." "you can't mean -" "I do. Contact Mr Smiley." (bnha s6e7-10)

I forgot Aquaman or wever his name is was keeping Eraser Head's eyes wet so he could stare at Tomura 'XD that's just, a thing. that's how this show works. that's just a thing in this show

"he even has all might's power and toughness" blinks in Magic player I wonder what those might be. Maybe like 7/7? or he's a 1/1 that can pump?

"'little brother?' I didn't say that. I don't want to be like you, teacher, I want to surpass you. my will is my own" yeah, I don't think you read all the fine print back when Super-Satan took you in. gifted powers from vague-talking benefactors have a tendency to not care what you want in the end

"Vanishing Fist" is a cool name for an attack. wonder what they cribbed it from (turns out they didn't, it sounded like something that coulda been from something else tho imo)

(midnight got got by mr compress and is telling momo to use a forbidden technique or something to stop bigfoot) hmmm. so midnight had yaoyorozu analyze her sedative stuff so she can make it? yaoyorozu's quirk may be a strict upgrade over some of the pros', then.

ngl, mt lady hasn't seemed to be slowing bigfoot down worth a damn so far. dint even try to get him off his feet, he was just pushing her ahead of him like a plow for the longest time

figures, acid girl remembered bigfoot from her origin story or something and it made her fumble the shot. or he just reminded her of it? not sure, I don't remember the details that well (could swear her origin story was literally about a "monster" looking guy just asking for directions but idk). anyway, kirishima to the rescue? like they do have that shared backstory bit kinda thing so like sure

…what the.

-- fucker just. …fuck is that called? gurning? yeah. mfer just won the universe gurning championship of all time out of nowhere. swallered his nose. and ears. and eyes.

(tomura got eraser head with the dart) I don't guess our guy's wearing dartproof shinguards under them trousers or summat? -- BRO.

-- BRO. when is this that kind of show

(OP starts up again) okay, get this upbeat… get this lewis carroll denver jam band shit outta my face, a man just cut his fucking leg off with a knife with one swipe, my man has a vorpal fucking sword specifically for chopping entire legs off and you are playing stuff that would sound too tame and mild and childish for fucking burnout 3. "lazy generation" wouldn't come close to cutting it for this shit, get outta here -- hell, what was he gonna do if it hit him in the gut? chop his entire fucking self in half? -- sweet from atlantis: "the catalog says this little beauty can cut through a femur in twenty-eight seconds. I'm betting I could cut that time in half"

"the giant villain is expected to pass through eleventy different cities on his way to wherever he's going" see, now they got sad twangy strings in the background, it sounds like "In the Woods Somewhere." this is appropriate music for the context -- also the kids really did go through all that for fuckall. : | apparently he can Tarrasque in his sleep or something

robotnik: "that one mistake will bring about your demise!" fucking cyclops with his stupid dinky eye lasers. and writers not knowing what defibrillators are for.

oh yeah, this episode's named after bakugo for some reason. writer really does act like he's fucking enkidu when he's just extremely simply a bad person, it's never gonna make sense to me

flashbacks of bakugo "helping" deku figure out the black whip ig -- wait shit, so deku now also has an ability called Float that just lets him Peter Pan. …or just levitate ig, apparently he needs the other stuff to actually move -- all might: "you're helping him learn his powers to atone for your past actions. but he probably never thought about it" these two make no goddamn sense. bakugo is still every bit as abusive, not only towards deku, but towards every person he interacts with, as he was when we first met him. he's never shown any trace of regretting being that way. hell, he also just got done spelling out that he can't understand that deku values and cares about other people, that that quality of deku's is repulsive to him. -- bakugo is just… is just wired in such a way, whether by nature or nurture or both, that he needs help becoming anything but several kinds of danger to other people. and he'll never get it, and he'll somehow continue to be portrayed as some kind of, for lack of a better word, "quirky" hero.

cyclops's cape is completely gone now, dang. is tomura gonna get a new one after this fight, or what? that thing was his whole wardrobe, now he's just Ben Swolo with wrong hair and chapped lips.

welp, here comes Super-Satan, Tomura, here comes your benefactor to take over the reins. toldja. -- (bakugo took the hit) there'll be no living with him after this. not that there was any before

"I finally got you" ah ah ah. if I didn't know any better, I'd think the Avatar Spirits might have something to say about that. I know you gave this power away, all that time ago, but it might not want to go back. it's got several minds of its own now

the villain team's hacker guy has visual on the fight? while riding on bigfoot's back? how shit is the good guys' tech if this nobody with a laptop can see shit and nobody else knew anything until bigfoot started moving?

"I need to ask sakuraraka why hawks killed twice" yeah because she'll definitely have any damned idea what you're talking about (did he die? I mean they kinda played it like he did but they do that a lot and it very rarely seems to take) -- "you're not the only one who's mad about twice" …what IS spinner doing here? what is his whole deal? does he have one? why is his sword twenty swords taped together in a pile, and why haven't we seen him do anything since like season two? at least, I could swear he hasn't done anything, for having such a distinctive design he's such a nothingburger of a character

"what are you going to do to me?" 'XD fucking nothing, the best her power can do is levitate you and you know it

oh goddammit, the next one's title is literally That Bit with the Gifs and the Hall & Oats Memes, the bit I been waiting for this entire time, but I just watched four in a row (four HEAVY ones) and I wanna stop. I'm just gonna have to save it and open on it (and Knife Girl's BS) next time

[episodicnostalgia]

Spider-man: The Animated Series, 105 (Feb. 25, 1995) - “The Menace of Mysterio”

Written by: John Semper Jr, Marv Wolfman, & Stan Berkowitz Directed by: Bob Richardson

The Breakdown

Spider-man has taken to a life of crime, and no one is more surprised that Peter Parker!  When news footage airs of Spider-man robbing a museum, Pete heads over to the scene of the crime (where Jonah is holding an anti-spidey press conference) in search of clues to clear his name.  Pete’s snooping gets him caught by Detective Terri Lee, but she opts to let it go (for the time being) when some weirdo in a fishbowl and purple cape interrupts the press conference. This particular nutcase calls himself Mysterio, and assures everyone that he is the hero who will finally bring Spider-man to justice.  He then disappears in a theatrical puff of smoke, before Jonah has an opportunity ask any follow up questions, but NOT before terrorizing the crowd with some frighteningly realistic illusions; finally a hero that New York can feel safe around

Spidey’s initial encounters with Mysterio do not go especially well, and he finds himself both defeated and publicly humiliated in the process; worse yet, it also results in Peter missing a date with Mary Jane.  After licking his wounds, Pete visits Detective Lee as Spider-man, where she helps him uncover Mysterio’s identity by pulling up an old police file.  It turns out Mysterio was once a Hollywood Special Effects technician, Named Quentin Beck, who was the best-of-the-best until he went too far and almost blew up a helicopter for some action movie.  Thankfully Spider-man was on hand to save the day and expose Beck’s criminal negligence, bringing him to justice… for a little bit.  Since getting out of prison, Beck has used his expertise (and apparently limitless resources) to exact his revenge by masquerade as a superhero, frame Spider-man, and then defeat him publicly.

Of course, Spider-man ultimately foils Mysterio in their obligatory climactic showdown, using his Spidey-sense to determine which of his adversary’s traps are lethal, or merely illusions.  As a nice bonus to Mysterio’s defeat, Terri Lee and Spidey become allies.  Oh yeah! And Mary Jane even decides to cut Pete some slack and give him another shot at taking her on a date.  Another happy ending all around.

The Verdict

I must confess, I’ve never had much interest in Mysterio. That’s not to say there isn’t a time and place for the character, and some iterations are more worthy of consideration than others, but his gimmick quickly grows old. It’s always the same: Something out of the ordinary happens that makes Spider-man question his reality, until he’s forced to trust his spider-sense, revealing it was an elaborate illusion all along. Rinse. Recycle. Repeat.  It’s no surprise to me that the showrunners would use the character sparingly, moving forward.

The strongest parts of this episode are those that don’t focus on Mysterio at all.  The subplot (which I skipped over in my breakdown) features Peter wanting to give up on being Spidey altogether after his initial defeat.  Thankfully Terri Lee conveniently makes a comment to Peter that causes him to reconsider early retirement, but it’s in this character beat that we’re finally shown Spidey’s fabled origin.  It’s actually a pretty economical way to bring a young target audience up to speed on the wall-crawler’s backstory, while tying it to his current existential dilemma.  World building aside, it’s the theme of power and responsibility (overstated as it has come to be) that has always endeared me to the character; If only that theme could have been introduced in a stronger episode.

In the end, I can attribute neither love nor hate toward ‘The Menace of Mysterio’, but rather an apathetic “Meh.”

2.5 stars (out of 5)

Additional Observations

I realize that supervillains being in possession of expensive toys is a trope that one sometimes has to accept; but seriously, HOW is Mysterio paying for any of this?  In this episode alone he has tiny cubes capable of projecting a wide array of complex illusions, animatronic dinosaurs/pirates/zombies/spiders, and a giant hydraulic spinning wheel (the original purpose for which I couldn’t possibly hazard a guess).  Having actually worked in the film industry, I am confident that even a highly paid SFX technician wouldn’t be able to afford all those gadgets without additional funding.  Indeed, I’ve only worked on a handful of films that would have possessed a budget large enough to accommodate even half the technology utilized by Mr. Beck, and even those would have been rentals.  I’m beginning to suspect the writers didn’t even care about the financial logistics of supervillainy.

Responsibility count: With Uncle Ben's Introduction, Peter utters the show's very first use of "with great power comes great responsibility." But don't worry if you missed it, we're gonna hear that chestnut MANY times before the series comes to an end.

Pete’s missed connection with Mary Jane was supposed to be a study-date for her requisite physics class (MJ is otherwise a student of the arts/acting), hence why she’s miffed when Pete fails to show.  Thankfully it all works out, as she explains she chose to just knuckle down and do the studying herself, passing the test in the process.  That’s all well-and-good, but then she drops some platitude about how arts and sciences are basically the same thing because “they’re both about trying to understand the world around us”.  I appreciate that, broadly speaking, that may be philosophically pertinent, but it’s just such irrelevant point to make, considering that truth derived through artistic mediums is often considerably more subjective (particularly in a class setting).  It’s also precisely the sort of comment I would have once nodded at ponderously in theatre school (especially if it was said by a cute redhead), and I don’t appreciate being called out like that.

[ch4tk4t]

Comics Fangirl n°1 - Into the fangirlverse:

Today's review is about "What if? Dark: Spider-Gwen"/2023

Plot by Gerry Conway & Jody Houser

Art by Ramon F Bachs and Dee Cunniffe

Welcome to this first "Comics Fangirl", where i use my fangirl super powers I got by being bit by a radioactive super-fan for good, as with great power, MUST also come great responsibility.

Get ready for a true superhero action thriller, packed to the brim with thrills and chills, twists and turns, more super-vilains than you can shake a web at, and of course, non-stop web-slinging ACTION !

So if you're not aware yet, Gwen Stacy is theorized to be a trans wowan in the latest spider-movie, "Across the Spider-verse". Needless to say, most of the "fan base" is up in arms AGAINST the idea. That, in my humble opinion, is because most of the "spider-fan base" is a bunch of racist incels. I, as a TRUE spider-fan hold the only true true. This is f*cking comics, you f*cking nerds. Cry some more, #Gwenistrans. Now that THAT'S sorted out, moving on to my review.

First off, my eyes bleed every time I have to witness Greg Land's... "art". Motherf*cker can't even find something new to trace over, I feel I've seen this "o-face" a BILLION times already (I'm not being funny here, Greg is KNOWN for tracing over porn 😑)

Spoilers for this comics from here on out, you have been warned. Also, minor spoilers for Ghost-Spider's backstory.

It's one of comics most well known event, but in case you didn't know, the main universe Gwen Stacy died years ago, during a fight between Spider-Man and the green goblin. Only this time, it's Peter that dies, hitting his head as he jumps to save Gwen.

I love this alternate universe, because usually the "What ifs" involve someone acting out of character or something ludicrous happening to set the events into motion. Only this time it's Peter not thinking of his personal safety as he saves the woman of his life (MJ and him start dating after Gwen's death), which is 100% in character.

Gwen discovers Peter's secret identity as she drags his lifeless body from the water. Instinctively, she gets rid of his costume. I love the way she INSTANTLY knows what Peter would've wanted, as I'm sure he wouldn't want any of his ennemies knowing who he was, especially now that he can't protect his loved ones.

Instead of just grieving though, our girl Gwen starts scheming. She's going to take revenge on the green goblin. Only problem, she has no super-powers, and no training. That won't stop her, as she enlists Harry Osborn's help to spring a trap for the gliding menace. What she doesn't tell Harry is that she plans on killing the goblin, using her late father's gun.

She baits Osborn senior by acting like Spider-Man survived their last encounter. When the Goblin falls into her trap, she points the gun at him, ready to shoot.

At the last minute though, she changes her mind, proving once more the love and understanding she has for Parker. Peter wasn't a killer, and she won't become one in his name. So this is the part where my eyes started leaking for some odd reason.

Sadly, Harry, overtaken by grief (and probably overcompensating for missing Pete's funeral) shoots the Goblin in the chest, not aware of his true identity. When Norman dies in front of his son, Harry snaps, telling Gwen he holds her responsible for his father's death, exacerbating her already existing guilt.

This is the start of this Gwen's journey as a spider-person. As far as spider-folks go, that's pretty f*cking metal.

So I want to touch on the fact this is now the second "Spider-Gwen" who fights crime WITHOUT SUPER POWERS. First of all, #SlayQueenYaaas. Secondly, I can't help but read this as a metaphor for Gwen being trans.

In case you didn't know (we can't all be virgins, I understand) Ghost-Spider, mostly know as "Spider-Gwen", also doesn't have super-powers at the moment (at least when the writers actually REMEMBER THAT). She lost them during a story where she compensated using a version of the venom symbiote, which she tames in about one issue, one-upping Peter like no one's business.

I may be over thinking this, but I view that fact as a parallel to her transness. Much like the fact she doesn't have the same "powers" as cis people, she doesn't have the powers most spider-people have, and she has to work twice as hard to achieve the same results as them. Also, Ghost-Spider has no secret identity in her universe, and I couldn't help but see that as a trans thing. You KNOW people IRL would out her the first chance they got. Or maybe that's just me, I don't know.

So in case that wasn't clear, I loved this comic. The plot was good, and I loved the art. If you plan on picking it up (I just spoiled most of the plot, but you do you) consider pirating it, in case you don't know Disney funds war criminals.

I give this comic nuff'said/10

Talk to you later, true believers.

Fangirl out.

[caatws]

I have to agree with you about IW. I think it was going very well and had a strong ensemble feel until you get to Gamora's death and it all took a nosedive. At that point it went from establishing Thanos and his motivations to justifying his actions and trying to paint him as being sympathetic in his abusive behavior. Gamora was also getting some great development and emotional exploration until the narrative turned her into a pawn for her abuser and spent more time on how he was the one who lost something than it did on her being the one who lost her life. There were so many ways they could have made Thanos interesting and show why he was doing what he wanted without trying to say he was right or say it was okay to abuse Gamora let alone reward him for it by granting him the stone.

I think this is my main grumble with gotg vol 3. It never directs the loss of Gamora back on to what it cost her. I really wish there had been one scene where someone said it wasn't right that Gamora died the way she did and that it's taken a toll on the team. I also would have loved for there to be a moment near the end where we got to hear more from 2014Gamora about how she feels. In IW there was so much emotion behind her thoughts and feelings concerning her time with Thanos and you could see that a bit in Endgame too. I wish Gunn had tapped into this more because once Gamora did start to get into the feels at the very end you could tell there was a lot going through her head. I get saving some of that to be a guessing game for the audience but part of it needed to be in the movie. I thought we would get it during a conversation between her and Nebula once her moment with Peter was over but then they never got to talk.

yeah it's weird bc the russos went completely off the rails with where they ultimately took gamora's story in iw, but honestly up until that point in the movie they were kinda actually getting a lot all right with gamora (except when they retconned her backstory but lolllll).

like i'm ngl i was kinda living for the angst of gamora making peter promise to kill her. it was in-character for gamora, created new stakes between her and peter, and also just shifted their dynamic in a new way that had so much potential to be further explored. like what a conflict to create for them!!!! and then we got those gamora flashback scenes and saw how she interacted with thanos and nebula and just...the russos actually seemed to know what they were doing there?!?!?

but then all that swiftly got thrown out the window once all that time we'd spent with gamora's character in the film, getting to see how her childhood was ruined, how quickly and readily she tried to sacrifice herself and her own happiness to save everyone, and just how deeply she was both loved by and loved others, was revealed to have been part of some master plan of building thanos up as a "sympathetic" villain when he didn't need to be. you can make a villain's goals appear logical or altruistic without trying to pass off their torture and abuse as some form of sacrifice made out of "love"

[dearlybelovedhonoredguests]

Figured I'd throw my oc, Ori in this!! Also I'm so sorry it's so long!! I tried to cut it down (╥﹏╥) hope you don't mind some redeemed sinner content~

(i hope thats okay I have no idea if that fits in your rules or not im sorry!)

🩷Name: Ori

🩷Date of Death: 1890's

🩷Cause of Death: overdose. Was shadowing shady people around as it was her job in working with detective. While undercover, O.D on some stuff she took to blend in and not look suspicious.

🩷Appearance: Pink hair with three other shades, two small black horns, a black demon tail that ends in a heart with horns. Hoodie thats off shouldered goes around her upper thighs. Wears thigh highs, big boots with spikes. Brown skin, green eyes.

🩷Age: {REDACTED} (but an adult from late 20's-early 30's)

🩷Gender: Female )she/her)

🩷Height: 7 feet tall

🩷Likes: the colour pink, reality tv shows, stars and crowns, cute digital art, cringey romantic things

🩷Dislikes: The colour green, competition, the other girls in her beauty pageant competitions, pancakes

🩷Personality: Flirty, confident, pretends to be self centered when really she's not and its just a mask because it feels good to pretend sometimes to distract herself from her loneliness and how little she reacts to things

🩷Mini Backstory: Currently there's not much on her human life, but over a decade in the afterlife on the other hand;

🩷Sinner in hell for over a century. Has been married four times. She tries to keep up with Hell's changing fashion sense so the newer sinners don't cast her out as an "oldie" like Vox, Alastor, Rosie, ect,. so every few years, she changed her wardrobe and style to match whatever was trending the most each decade. After a century of doing this, she got tired and now sticks to a hoodie, stockings, and boots. 20-30 years later, joins Charlie's Hotel as one of its residents in hopes to get redeemed. "Romance in hell sucks", she would say, disappointed with her failed marriages and other romantic relationships.

🩷Trivia: Has shadows she can control and use as she wishes. Can vanish through them, materialize from them, summon items with them, and even make it materialize into something firm-like her horns and tail which are not what she fell to hell with. Those are things she can give herself and can change the size and shape of. Her body is essentially shadows;, if a stray bullet in hell goes flying at her, she can turn her powers on and it would literally go right through her. Off though, she can very much touch and feel lol

Wincing slightly at how almost obnoxiously bright Heaven is, Ori walked up towards the large golden gates of Heaven. Heaven? Wait-What?!

"Ohhhhh fuck, I actually did it." She exclaims, looking up at the very shiny and clean golden gates. She breathes and looks down at herself, seeing she still has her demon tail. "Sick, I get to keep my magic." She grins as she pokes one of her little horns-complete with a halo sitting atop her head.

“Hi there! Welcome to Heaven, my name is St. Peter, can I get your name please?”

[sugarybitterness]

finally found - natasha romanoff x daughter!reader

from this request | series masterlist

platonic peter x yelena x kate x reader & a hint of romantic wanda x reader ~

word count; 4983 (hfs my longest one shot to date)

warnings; implies alcohol abuse, abuse in general, mention of car accident & death.. some angst but happy ending

mega thank you to @wandaschaosmagic for helping me beta this!! <3

a/n; i was so excited for this request heheh:] also i’ve aged down peter, wanda, yelena and kate to be 15, the same age as reader! very non canon compliant but it is set in the mcu universe :D also don’t ask me how yelena and r are the same age but lena calls tasha “sestra” because i have no clue how to explain their backstory and im way too lazy to figure it all out. and yes peter is r’s best friend but i’m a fucking simp for wanda so .. hope y’all enjoy weehuu<3 feedback is greatly appreciated for this!!

“and so she did this insane move! like i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone except miss romanoff pull off something like that. i don’t even know how she knows how to do it!” peter babbles on excitedly as he and the other teens on the team settles around the kitchen island to do their homework.

“he’s not joking sestra. i saw it with my own eyes, for a moment i thought i was looking at a mini you.” yelena chuckles as she breezed through the math homework in front of her. honestly, yelena being in school at this point was just for legality, the blonde assassin was extremely smart.

natasha just hums in response as she types away on her own computer, doing up some paperwork.

“would we be able to invite her over?” wanda asks, her eyes shining with excitement.

“ugh as if we don’t have to deal with you pining over her in school, we have to see it here too?” yelena huffs as she completes the last bit of her math homework, snapping the binder shut.

“i mean, if it’s okay with the adults we could maybe have a sleepover here?” peter wonders out loud, his gaze landing on the only adult in the kitchen. as if they timed it, peter and wanda turns to stare at yelena who just groans in annoyance.

“sestra,” yelena calls out, rolling her eyes when natasha doesn’t even bother looking up from her work. “sestra, i have an important question can you please pay me some attention?”

at that, natasha sighs softly before turning her gaze away from her computer.

“what is it lena?”

“can y/n come over for a sleepover? she’s my friend from school, peter’s best friend and wanda’s crush all rolled into one.” yelena supplies helpfully, ignoring the sokovian’s offended “hey!”

“i’m going to need a little more information than that lena.” natasha raises an eyebrow at her sister who sighs dramatically, turning to look at peter. he looks at yelena for a moment, slightly confused, until he finally understood what she wanted him to do.

“oh! er, her name is y/n.. y/n y/l/n. she was adopted as baby after being left outside an orphanage in queens. she turns 15 in december this year. she never knew who her parents were but she did those dna tests thing once and it said she’s half russian and half american, though weirdly enough the site didn’t give out any other information. she.. hm, she actually looks a lot like you ms romanoff- very red hair, green eyes. she seems really scary at first too! but is actually really soft and sweet.” peter rambles on and as soon as he realised he probably said a little too much, he laughs awkwardly before slumping down in his seat.

natasha simply shakes her head, and all the teens deflate a little before she replies, “alright i guess she can come. just her, you three and kate?”

the three teens erupts into cheers, peter pulling out his phone to text y/n while yelena goes ahead to text kate.

“thank you tasha.” wanda hops down from her seat and goes to wrap the redhead in a hug. allowing a rare moment of softness, natasha drops a swift kiss on the top of wanda’s head.

she wouldn’t admit it to anyone but these three kids (plus kate) were one of her biggest soft spots. love is for children, her brain tried to scream at her. but natasha knew better.

love makes people stronger. strong enough to leave them behind, when it’s safer than the alternative. natasha quickly pushed away those thoughts, she didn’t want to dream about what could’ve been, not tonight.

-

as natasha finishes up the last of her work for the night, there’s a light knocking on the door.

“come in.” natasha calls out as she powers off her computer.

“hey sestra,” yelena greets natasha, smiling brightly when the older girl opens up her arms for yelena to burrow into. the two sisters stay like that for a moment, relishing in the fact that they’re both here, they still have each other and they’re safe.

the silence is soon broken by yelena, who remembers why she came by in the first place.

“sestra, i’m here to talk about y/n.”

tilting her head curiously, natasha prompts yelena to continue.

“it’s nothing bad but.. remember the story you told me? about the little girl you had after one of your missions before the graduation ceremony?” yelena grimaces slightly when she feels natasha stiffen, the redhead attempting to pull out of the hug, but yelena stops her.

“i’ve seen y/n, and she.. she looks almost exactly like you. i swear it’s like looking at a carbon copy! and after the information peter shared, i’m just wondering.. what if it’s her?” yelena continues on, her grip on natasha finally loosening, so that she could look up at the redhead.

“way too many babies are left at orphanages lena, you know this. yes there might be some similarities but i highly doubt that peter’s best friend could be her.” natasha states firmly with a shake of her head. “can we not talk about this anymore? you should go to bed, you have school tomorrow.”

yelena opens her mouth to say something but, ultimately decides against it. leaning up, she places a soft kiss on natasha’s cheek, wishing her a goodnight before heading back to her own room.

that night, natasha dreams of a little girl. a little girl who looks like her, fights like her and she sees the life that she wished she could’ve provided for her.

but the red room was never a good place to grow up in.

“why’d you leave me mama?” was the haunting cry that jolts natasha awake.

i wish i didn’t. but i had no other choice.

-

natasha smiles to herself when she hears the telltale chatter of the teens who just got home from school. her ears picks up a fifth voice- which should be y/n.

setting down the last plate of food, natasha turns to greet the group of teens. her heart leaps to her throat and she has to force herself to school her features.

she sees what yelena means when you look exactly like her, heck even your laugh sounds similar to hers. her eyes zero in on what looks like a heart shaped birthmark on your collarbone, and her breath hitches.

“sestra?” “tasha?” “miss romanoff?” the overlap of voices shakes natasha out of her trance.

“yes-“ natasha clears her throat, wincing internally at how shaky her voice sounded. “yes, hello. uh, i’m natasha.”

you stand slightly behind peter, eyes widening at the sight of the natasha romanoff standing in front of you. a slight nudge in your ribs from yelena startles you and you’re quick to introduce yourself.

“you made mac and cheese?” yelena lights up, grabbing your arm to pull you towards the table. the russian assassin doesn’t miss the slight expression of pain that flits across your face before it was quickly gone, replaced with an excited smile to match the blonde’s energy.

“tasha’s mac and cheese is the best.” wanda comments happily, sliding into the seat next to you, all while peter grumbles about his best friend being stolen away.

“do you kids want anything to drink?” natasha turns around to busy herself with grabbing the glasses, missing the confused glances the kids (except you) shared amongst each other. sure, natasha would cook for them almost everyday, but she always stressed about them getting their own drinks. even when ned and mj were invited over, she was a stickler for that rule.

the rest of them rattled off their preferences, but natasha calls out your name when she didn’t hear you give an answer.

“i’m fine with anything miss romanoff.” you answer politely, your fingers fiddling nervously in your lap.

“you okay if i get you tea, like wanda?”

“that’s fine, but uh- actually never mind it’s fine.” you bite your lip nervously hoping natasha didn’t hear your slip up. but she was a trained spy after all.

“do you want it iced?” natasha probes, turning around to set down everyone else’s drinks before she settles her gaze on you. you blink at her, but nod your head slowly.

she sends you a soft smile, replying, “i like my tea iced too.”

this puzzling behaviour continues on for the rest of the day. for once, natasha wasn’t glued to her computer doing her work but she seems to be constantly hovering, making sure everyone (especially you) were comfortable and okay.

it was even harder for her to retire to her room for the night, knowing that joining in on the sleepover would just be weird. but she did manage to ask you about your favourite foods sometime during the afternoon, so she gets up early the next morning to go for her run before taking over the kitchen. even though saturdays were sam’s day to cook for the team, he was shooed away so that natasha could work undisturbed.

unfortunately for the teenagers, they still had to partake in training today, so they were all up and in the kitchen by 8am, which was where they found natasha packing up their foods into containers for them to have after their run. they also noticed that she had left out two plates, peter recognising it as your favourite dish.

“thank you for having me over, i know the rest of them having training today so i’ll just head home..” your train of thought cut off when you realised that there was food at the table and a very nervous russian assassin looking at you.

“is, uh, is this for me..?” you glance at peter with wide eyes, surprised at the fact that natasha had not only made you breakfast, but it was also your favourite.

“yes, but if you have other plans already it’s fine!” natasha replies nervously, her hands fiddling anxiously under the table.

a part of her really didn’t want you to leave. but what was she supposed to do? she couldn’t exactly tell you “hey i’m your mother, i abandoned you almost 15 years ago and i’m sorry but it was either that or have you be experimented on by the red room. oh and i don’t know who your dad is either.”

technically, she could but it just didn’t seem right to dump all that on you. especially when you seem to be doing alright now, without her. like you probably have been for your whole life.

“i’m okay with staying, thank you so much for cooking miss romanoff.” you smile shyly at the avenger in thanks. natasha smiles back in return before turning to the other 4 teens.

“alright, do the 4 of you have your fruits and shakes? good, remember to eat them before running, but don’t eat too much. 5 mile run for peter and yelena, 3 mile run for wanda and kate. come back for breakfast and homework before the rest of your training.” natasha instructs everyone, ignoring their groans of protest as she shoos them away. you giggle softly before hugging everyone goodbye, even leaving a soft kiss on wanda’s cheek, causing the sokovian to blush.

soon, it was just you and natasha left in the kitchen. she ushers you to sit at the table and you comply, answering her when she asks if you want a smoothie to go with your food.

despite both of your nerves, conversation flows easy. you don’t seem to find natasha’s questions odd, if anything it feels nice to have someone ask after you. you end up staying until the afternoon, doing your work with the rest before you eventually leave when they have to go for their individual training.

the next few weeks you came by to the tower almost every weekday. it had been natasha’s idea and while everyone was slightly confused, yelena had simply went along with it, a knowing glint in her eyes.

it felt good, the last few years had been rough for you and you often dreaded heading home after school ended. but now you would hitch a ride with everyone to go to the avengers tower after school and then get a ride back home with peter.

you found yourself getting closer to natasha as well, the russian could always be found where you were. it was confusing for you, to seemingly be the centre of natasha’s attention, but it felt almost natural.

one night would soon change everything.

-

wanda groans quietly when she hears her phone ring, blindly reaching out for it, she accepts the call and puts it to her ear.

“hello?” wanda mumbles sleepily, yawning as she waits for a reply.

“wanda?” your trembling voice immediately shocks all the sleep out of wanda’s system.

“y/n/n? milaya? what’s wrong are you okay?” wanda sits up in bed quickly, her free hand flicking to turn on the lamp on her side table.

“i’m sorry, i-“ your words are cut off by a shuddering sob. “i didn’t have anyone else to call. peter is on a mission and i, please i need to get out of here-“

“where the fuck did you go you bitch?!” a loud male voice makes both you and wanda jump. you whimper quietly and wanda is quick to rush out of her room to head to natasha’s all while telling you stay on the line.

she bangs impatiently on the door as she tries her best to reassure you over the phone. the door swings open to reveal an irate natasha but wanda is quick to explain the sitaution.

soon, the duo are in the car while wanda continues to try and calm you. thankfully, wanda remembers your address from the few times she went over after school. with natasha as the driver, the supposed 40 minute drive becomes 20.

the car pulls up to an apartment building and the two run up the stairs. the door to the apartment was slightly open and there was drunken shouting coming from inside.

“come out come out wherever you are~ it’s okay, dada just wants to play!” the drunk man laughs obnoxiously as he tries to look for you. slipping in quietly, natasha is quick to knock him out and wanda hurries to your room, finding you in your locked closet. wanda knocks gently, “y/n? it’s wanda. can you open the door milaya? i promise it’s safe now.”

the door unlocks and she opens it to reveal you curled up on the ground, clutching a blanket and a stuffed animal. wanda lets out a soft gasp at your state, a bruise was forming on your cheek, arms littered with more bruises but the most angering thing was the handprint mark around your neck. in your worn out state, you just sit there, sobbing silently as wanda quickly shakes herself out of her shock.

“milaya, y/n.. can i touch you?” wanda’s speaks softly, doing her best not to startle you. you nod weakly and wanda scoops you up, one arm hooking under your legs and another around your body. you drop your things onto your body, forcing yourself to move your own arms to loop around her, burying your face into her neck as you sob in relief.

“thank you.” you mumble out and wanda presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

she carries you out carefully, not missing how natasha’s eyes flashed with anger when the older woman sees your state.

natasha gives one firm kick the unconscious man before they both walk back downstairs. natasha starts up the car and wanda sits in the back with you. you curl up on her lap, refusing to move and natasha doesn’t bat an eye as she drives back to the tower.

sometime on the drive back, you had fallen asleep, the day’s events catching up to you. wanda wonders how she never noticed the signs, and if peter had known about your father’s abuse at all. natasha’s heart felt heavy with guilt, her eyes constantly looking at your limp body in the rearview mirror. she catches a sight of a red blanket and she has to force the tears away.

she can’t believe you still kept it.

-

you groan softly when you feel pain throughout your body. you shuffle around a bit and tense when you don’t recognise the sheets you are on. the events of the previous night slowly come back to you, how you had tried to call peter but then remembered how he was on a practise mission with tony stark and steve rogers. the next person you had thought of was wanda, so you called her. you recall hiding in the closet, praying and hoping that he wouldn’t find you in his drunken haze. suddenly the shouting had ceased and wanda was in your room. she had carried you out, to a car.. that natasha drove?

taking a deep breath, you slowly open your eyes. you blink wearily as you look around the dark room. you sit up slowly, grimacing at the pain that shoots through your body. you hesitate for a while before calling out for FRIDAY.

“good afternoon miss y/n. do you need me to go get miss maximoff or miss romanoff?”

you reply with a yes and as an afterhtought, ask for FRIDAY to brighten up the light in the room.

there’s a series of knocks on the door and you call for them to come in, smiling softly at wanda and natasha as they step inside.

“thank you for coming to get me last night. i’m sorry i had to trouble you.” you fiddle with the blanket in your lap nervously, the same one that you had been holding onto since wanda found you the night before.

“it’s alright, but.. we do have to talk about it.” natasha moves to sit on the edge of the bed while wanda opts to sit next to you. you shift closer to her and sigh contentedly when her arms wrap around you.

“y/n..” natasha starts and you try to look at anywhere but her, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. “y/n, how long has this been going on for?”

“emotionally and verbally? years. but the physical abuse only started last year .” you hear harsh intake of breath from natasha and wanda stiffens next to you.

“my dad he, he never really wanted me. but my mum always wanted a child, even though they always had trouble conceiving. she’s the one that wanted to adopt and so she convinced him to adopt a baby together. she uh, she died in a car crash when i was 8.” your bottom lip trembles as you try not to cry.

“dad didn’t handle it so well. he never liked a lot of things but he loved mum the most. he uh, he started drinking and it spiraled from there. he raised me but was mainly absent from my life. but things got out of hand and he went to work drunk early last year, so he was fired. i think that was the final straw, you know? he got angerier, he drank more and his outbursts became more violent.”

it was as if the floodgates had opened. soon you were sharing about all the things that had been happening over the last year and a half.

“please i- i really don’t want to go back to stay with him. please don’t make me go back natasha.” you sob, hand clutching onto your blanket as you huddle closer to wanda, as if natasha was going to pick you up and send you back. she could feel her heart clench painfully and she shook her head fiercely.

“i’m never ever going to send you back there okay? i’ll call tony and see if we can pull you out of his guardianship, have you stay here with us instead.” natasha tentatively reaches out to you and when you don’t flinch, she wipes away your tears. “malyshka, i promise you that you will be safe here, okay?”

you nod in response, mumbling a relieved “thank you”.

“wanda, could you bring her to your room? it’ll probably be more comfortable than this guest room.” natasha instructs and wanda bobs her head in agreement. natasha continues, “no training for you today, just make sure that y/n is comfortable yeah? if either of you need anything, get FRIDAY to call for me. i’m going to go find tony now and sort everything out.”

leaning forward, natahsa presses a kiss to the top of both your heads before swiftly exiting the room, going straight to tony’s lab.

-

in a sick, twisted fortune, your adoptive dad wanted nothing to do with you and was more than happy to give you away.

“she’s your problem now.” he spat out venomously. steve had to physically restrain natasha from jumping him in that moment.

steve was granted temporary guardianship of you, until they figured out who would be your legal guardian. at this point, natasha had come clean about her connection with you. how she had given birth to you while on a long term mission, and how she decided to leave you on a doorstep of an orphanage the day before she had to be extracted by the red room. how she thought about you everyday and she had always second guessed giving you up. but when she was put on another mission and a 3 year old yelena was put in her arms, she was thankful that she had done what she did, especially when they had to forcefully pry yelena away from her once their undercover mission was over.

everyone had tried to convince natasha to talk to you, but while she would never admit it, she was afraid.

while you had struck up a friendship of sorts with natasha the first few weeks of coming over to the tower, your relationship only grew properly when you started to stay there permanently. you were given a week off school to recover and natasha had spent the entire week fussing over you, making sure you healed well.

natasha took you under her wing, and soon you were nicknamed her shadow. because calling you mini nat or mini romanoff hit far too close to home for the older redhead.

so it came as no surprise to anyone (but natasha) when at the 6 month mark of being at the tower, you decided to ask natasha to be your actual legal guardian.

natasha feels her heart soar at the question, her heart warming at your hopeful gaze. she wants to say yes, to wrap you up in a tight hug and pepper the top of your head with kisses.

but she also knows you deserve the truth. so she pushes down the happiness threatening to overflow and instead grabs your hand, pulling you to your room. despite your confusion, you follow her as she guides you to your bed, both of you taking a seat.

“i..” natasha hesitates slightly, not knowing if she was ready for this conversation to happen. she takes a deep breath, as she tries to calm her heart, knowing that she would not forgive herself if she didn’t tell you this. she wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t forgive her either for keeping this a secret for so long.

“thank you malyshka. it means a lot to me that you would choose me as your guardian. but, before i accept i think that there‘s something you should know.” you nod slowly, lips curling into a slight pout as you wonder what was going on.

natasha’s tongue swipes over her dry lips as she gestures to the blanket that sits on your bed. you grab it and look back towards her as you waited.

“do you know how you got this blanket?”

you nod, this blanket was the only thing you had of your biological mother. the orphanage said that it was left with you in the basket. you always struggled with your feelings towards your mother, did she not want you? why were you left there with nothing but a blanket with a set of initials on it and your name written in a cursive loop on a card.

“the initials on them.. N and R, correct?”

your breath hitches as you stare at natasha, your trembling fingers brushing against the initials the same way you do every night you think of her.

“how do you know that?” you breathed out, gaze steady on natasha’s.

“because i was the one who sewed them there.” natasha says softly. but you hear her, and soon you’re on your feet.

“no.” your voice is shaky, eyes filling with tears.

“y/n-“ natasha stands up but you quickly step back, hand still clutching onto your blanket.

“you.. you’re my mother? the mother who left me? and you’ve been here all this time? how long have you known?”

natasha doesn’t answer.

“godamnit natasha, how long have you known?!” you shout, your hand swiping across your eyes harshly.

“since the very first day peter brought you over. the heart shaped birthmark confirmed it for me.”

you chuckle weakly, your legs start moving and soon you’re pacing around the room. you stop suddenly and turn to face natasha. she takes in a shuddering breath, trying not to cry at the look of hurt and betrayal on your face.

“why? i don’t understand, how can you be my mother? my mother didn’t want me, she left me on the doorstep of an orphanage. but you- you’ve been nothing but a mother to me! you were the one that got me a place here and you were the one that patched me up. the one that held me through all my breakdowns and who even started to train me so i could protect myself. how could you be the same person that abandoned me?” you cry out, tears streaming down your face as you look at natasha, trying to understand.

you’d be lying if you said you never thought about her. especially after your adoptive mother passed, you wondered if you’d ever find your biological mom. you were actually considering asking tony if he could help you track her down, if it was even possible. but all this while, she has been right here in this tower you have come to call home.

“i never wanted to leave you malyshka. if i could, i would’ve taken you with me but i couldn’t do it. not when i was going back to the red room.” natasha’s crying now too, her eyes red as tears slipped down her cheeks.

“the red room they, they train little girls to be killers. we kill each other to be the best and i would never have forgiven myself if i handed you over. i missed you everyday malyshka, i thought about you day and night. but i never ever regretted leaving you behind, because i love you too much to put you through what i went through.” natasha risks a step closer to you.

“i’m sorry my little one, i never meant to hurt you. i hope one day you can forgive me for leaving you, but if not that’s okay. i promise that i will do all i can to make it up to you, even if you never want to see me again-”

“no!” you interrupt natasha, a sob clawing its way out of your chest. “please don’t go.”

this time you’re the one to close the distance. you were always slightly shorter for your age, which meant that you were still smaller than natasha. you wrap you arms around her midsection and you bury your face against her shoulder as you start to cry harder. she wraps her arms around you and hugs you close, swaying her body gently in hopes to soothe you.

“i’m.. i’m still mad.” you confess quietly. “i understand why you did it, you just wanted to protect me. but you could’ve still found me- you’re a trained spy. why didn’t you?”

“i still have red in my ledger. i’m a walking target, i have all sorts of people who want me dead. i never wanted to get you entangled in all this.”

you pull away, a new wave of tears threatening to fall at the implications of her words.

“does this mean i have to leave?”

“no!” natasha quickly backtracks, realising how her words got misinterpreted. “no. you don’t have to go anywhere okay? that was what i thought last time. but now..”

natasha raises a hand to cup your cheek softly, fingers wiping away your tears.

“but now i have you back i don’t think i ever want to let you go.”

your lips curl into a shy smile as you reply. “i don’t want to go either.”

natasha leans forward and presses your foreheads together. you let out a shaky breath as your eyes close. the two of you allow the silence to fall over the both of you until you decide to break it.

“i think this means you can’t be my legal guardian anymore.” natasha’s heart sinks into her stomach. her eyes open and she is met with your smile.

“maybe.. maybe you could adopt me? be my mum officially once again?” you continue on, eyes cast downwards shyly. natasha smiles brightly as she leans to press a kiss onto your forehead.

“even without that piece of paper, i have always been and will always be your mama. thank you for trusting me malyshka.”

both of you know that there is still a lot of things to talk about, but for now, you finally have your mama and natasha finally gets the chance to hold and call her baby hers.

you finally found each other.

[malereader-inserts]

The Future Awaits

Fandom: Avengers Pairing: Peter Parker x Male!Reader Summary: He has to start all over again, and it feels like the world is giving him a second chance. Word Count: 1,005

Peter is, unknown to him, the biggest simp anyone can come across.

He's driven by his emotions, he's fought bad guys and aliens, but yet there was one thing that makes him so jittery. You were the reason. Peter was afraid to talk to you, he feels nervous when he gives you a small wave, and he always beats himself up for embarrassing himself.

Peter lost everything, his friends, the people who knew him, and the last of his family. He's starting from scratch, making friends is hard, and being in the same city makes it harder for him to move on with his life. But, he was determined in changing his life around.

He wants to impress you.

"Hey, Pete!" You greeted, a smile upon your lips as Peter turns red under your stare before looking at the two people next to you, "Uh, I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with my friends?"

"Umh?"

"(Y/n), you gotta introduce us first," The girl on your left says, Peter can't help but deflate as he sees her attached to your arm.

"Oh, sorry, yeah," You awkwardly scratch the back of your neck, "This is Gwen Stacy and this is Harry Osborn. Guys this is Peter Parker."

Peter's hair on his arms went up, remembering his varients backstories, though his sense was calmed down at your smile.

"Yeah, I'd like that!" Peter nodded with a polite smile.

"Great! I've got to go, (Y/n) text me where to meet ya, I need to meet MJ!" Gwen gives you a hug, Peter can't help to cringe internally as Harry shakes his head at his friend's excitement

"MJ?" Peter asks Gwen, tilting his head in confusion.

"Aren't you adorable?" She gasped, "Yeah, Mary Jane! Anyway see you guys later, nice meeting you Peter!"

As she walks away it was left with you, Peter and Harry, who stood there awkwardly, watching how you and Peter didn't leave eye contact.

"Anyway," Harry clears his throat, patting Peter on his shoulder, leaving his hand there momentarily, before looking at you, "I'll see you guys later."

He leaves you, giving you a knowing look as you return it with a glare, he laughs it off before disappearing into the university campus. Leaving you and Peter to be alone together. You cleared your throat as Peter, once again, flushes red.

"Are you alright, Pete? You're looking a bit red," You asked, a tone of concern with a look to match, "Sorry, I thought it would be nice to hang out more often, sorry if it was out of the blue."

"No! No!" Peter wildly exclaimed with his hands as well, "It's fine, I'm having trouble making friends, so it made things easy."

"Walk with me," You tilted your head in a direction as he catches up to your walking speed, "They're good people, they might be loud and a bit full on, but I promise you, they're great friends."

"I don't doubt that for a second," Peter says, lying through his teeth, if his variants all have the same storyline then he can only prepare himself for the future, "Thanks for the invite honestly."

"No worries," You smile, "This is me, but I'll shoot you a text about where to meet us."

There was something about you that Peter doesn't know what it was. It drives him crazy, was it because you were so friendly and easy-going? Was it because of your warm smile and how your eyes light up so brightly?

"Hey (y/n)?"

You turned around upon hearing your name to find Peter standing there, awkwardly, one hand on his bag and the other in his pocket. He gives you a tight smile, as you met his eyes.

"What's up, Pete? Tell me you're not backing out on Friday movie night with the gang?"

"No! Of course not!" Peter laughs, he was so happy that you introduced him to your friends, they were all welcoming and he felt like he fit in, "I was just here to thank you, you know, for introducing us to each other."

"Oh."

Peter may be dreading the years to come, but he's learnt to live in the presence. He and Harry were getting closer and closer by the day, and a part of him feels guilty about thinking he was replacing Ned with a new best friend. Gwen and he get along like a house on fire, there was clearly something there, and Peter is wary about addressing it.

"That's good, cause, honestly, it was selfish purposes."

"Oh?"

You chuckled at Peter's response, this time you were one feeling nervous, you licked your lip and scratched the back of your head, "I just wanted to get closer to you, know more about you, and the truth is... I really like you, Peter, and not like a friend way."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, oh," your smile falls, "It's okay if you don't feel the same, god, I made this awkward."

"No!" Peter shouted before flushing red, ducking his head down hoping no one else turns their head in your direction, "I mean, I like you too, for a while."

You two stood there awkwardly before meeting each other's eyes and the two started to laugh.

"Let me buy you dinner, tomorrow night?" You asked as Peter nods, "Great, I'll pick you up at six. See you then."

"See you then!"

Yeah, Peter was afraid of the future, knowing he'll have to fight Harry and he couldn't save Gwen. He knows his future is pretty set for that, but he cannot wait for what the future had for you and him, he was too excited about that to think about the other things.

He smiles to himself, and for once for a really long time, he feels alive. He has friends he cares about, and someone who loves him as much as he loves them back. He feels like life is repaying for the devastation he had to endure.

He's excited about what the future awaits.

[starbuckie]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

pairing(s): college!peter parker x reader, dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!sam wilson x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader

words: 8.1k words

warnings: DARK!FIC, SMUT 18+ (unprotected sex, foursome turned fivesome, gangbang, non-con/dub-con, daddy kink, oral M and F-receiving, spit kink, degredation kink, praise kink, creampie), age-gap (reader is in her early 20s), cheating, angst, there’s like zero fluff

summary: peter should’ve made it back to the tower for date night on time, or maybe just before he found his girlfriend being fucked by three other superheroes.

a/n: eee my first dark fic! im so so happy with the way this turned out, and even though it was a pain in my ass for nearly three months, im so hapy to share it with y’all. this idea was brought up by an anon from @mypoisonedvine’s saturday sleepover a few months back, but i switched up tony and sam bc i didn’t like the tony and peter stuff. hopefully my smut has improved from the first time i wrote it in january, and just a reminder that in no way, shape, or form do i condone rape of any kind. there’s a large difference from the page and the real world. i try to put all tw’s in the tags and warnings, but if there was something i missed please tell me. thank you to my lovely bestie @mermaidxatxheart for beta-reading(i have no fucking clue what i’d do without your help). feel free to leave a comment or two and reblog, but don’t repost anywhere or i will hunt down your ass. thank you again and please please enjoy <3

main masterlist || mcu masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck Y/N as soon as he saw her.

It started with a faint mention, something Tony had thrown around along the lines of, “Parker’s bringing his girl down here tomorrow, don’t be an asshole”. He didn’t give a damn what Tony said or how he acted around Peter’s girl. Years of being thrown between gruesome mind-wiping and being half-dead, asleep in a freezer would do that to a man.

So the next day when Peter brought his girlfriend in, he was scratching his ass like a fucking ape and downing a beer with a messy bun at the nape of his neck, until he actually saw her. Neat hair, even neater laces with a sweet smile but a body that could kill. Didn’t matter that she was bundled under Parker’s hoodie and a pair of jeans- he could always admire a pretty dame, but Bucky could see that she was beyond that. It was as if God had intentionally made the one being, the one ethereal creature beautiful and angelic enough to be a sin away from him, so that he couldn’t touch her. Because she was young, and in her twenties, and that shouldn’t have even been the first two things that popped up in his mind because she was also Peter’s girlfriend.

But then she had the audacity to stick her hand out, a shy grin and twinkle in her eyes as she gave her name. It sounded so pretty rolling off of her tongue, and he wondered what it would sound like while he groaned it into her cunt.

Y/N. 

So, yeah, maybe Bucky wasn’t planning to fuck her as soon as he met her, but it was pretty damn close after.

-

Steve Rogers was one of very few men who said they had the pleasure of banging nearly every woman on the north side of Manhattan. Bucky indulged in the fact that the man who had once been too shy to do so much as meet a gal’s gaze was now “a dollar whore”, but he was more than happy to keep that title if it meant he could continue to get off in the nearest woman’s mouth everyday. 

Every time he walked down the streets of New York with just a simple ball cap and jeans, he could feel stares on his back from what seemed like miles away, girls on every street corner just waiting for him to take her into the nearest public bathroom and fuck them dirty. CEOs, baristas, girls fresh out of getting master’s degrees with stars in their eyes and big dreams, until he shattered them by making them gag on his cock and scream his name into bedsheets. Or tile floors. He didn’t care as long as they were screaming. The girls of this century were just too delectable to turn down. He didn’t discriminate. His dick had been in women of every height, stature, hair color, and he had quite the variety throwing themselves at him as well.

And then Tony ruined it all and sat him down with a simple explanation that the image of Captain America was being tainted with disturbing stories of girls being fucked in the ass and thrown on their knees in dirty bathroom stalls. The blond was beyond pissed when the billionaire told him to stop dicking around, but he couldn’t do anything else if he wanted to keep his title and job. In a new century, even if he’d had a few years to adjust, he was still absolutely oblivious when it came to anything outside of aliens and sex. There was nothing left for him outside of being an Avenger, so reluctantly he agreed to keep his number of conquests to a minimum, and most definitely inside of the tower rather than out on the street.

However, inside of the tower seemed to be no problem at all when Peter brought his girlfriend over, all smiles and straight A’s, and that’s when Steve realized that he’d yet to fuck a bright, little college student. He could see himself stripping her from the innocence in her eyes, loosening up her pussy with his thick cock against the wall in his room.

Surely Tony couldn’t reprimand him for spending a little time trying to bond with Peter’s new girl, right?

-

Sam Wilson was a simple man. He had a job, a well-paid one at that, somewhere to live, a girlfriend, or a woman to keep him company, that’s for sure- but for once in his life he was seeking out something other than missions, something that would keep him busy when he was feeling bored, something like-

Pleasure, and he knew that he’d finally found what he was looking for the moment Peter brought his girlfriend through the elevator doors on the fifty-sixth level of the Avengers tower. She’d shaken his hand so daintily and spoke so politely that if he were to see her without any backstory, he’d think she was another innocent, dim-witted college student, breaking her bank account every Saturday morning and naively believing that her relationship would last longer than a few months. But by the things Parker had told him, she was much more than that.

Was it shitty of Peter to tell his teammates, the people he worked with, how Y/N was in bed? By the majority’s vote, probably, and by Sam’s strict conduct of his own morals, definitely, but when Peter’s girl looked like that and he was so incredibly bored with his routine? 

Well, fuck, Sam had never been happier that the Spider-kid had told everyone how his girl gave head.

Peter brought his girlfriend in daily after that, and every one of her visits, she grew less shy and more friendly, and the Falcon saw each of his friends gape at her growing comfortability with a wolfish demeanor. It started with the water incident with Steve in the kitchen, where he so clearly spilled water on her already thin, white camisole with intention. Sam couldn’t say he was upset though, after all Steve had offered him and the rest of the Avengers quite a show when he tried to clean up her shirt, taking his sweet, sweet time to fondle her tits as subtly as he could, his eyes staring at her pebbled nipples poking through the material. He could see Bucky hiding his boner under his cereal bowl on the couch that day. 

Then of course, he’d been no better than America’s sweetheart himself when he greeted Y/N with a hug that in hindsight, was a little too enthusiastic. His large hands squeezed into the pockets of her back pocket, and if the college student found anything weird with it, she didn’t say so, but Sam graciously palmed the round globes of her ass in his hands, feeling the muscle clench under his fingers. Oh, how he’d never hugged someone that tight ever before in his life. Maybe he would’ve gotten a bit further than squeezing her ass had it not been for his own girlfriend standing behind him, ready to introduce herself to Y/N.

Bucky, well, Sam could admit that Bucky had the most guts out of all of them. Though the super-soldier was normally well-reserved and polite, the dark glint in his eyes the day he met Y/N let him in on the secret that he had a much dirtier mind than most thought. It had been movie night that time, and he barely even tried to cover up how much he wanted the girl, his hands resting all over her as they watched Inception. Hardly a movie to get so riled up over, yet Bucky’s hand still inched its way up her thigh, his rough fingers gently carressing the flesh until they started to lightly trace the apex of her thighs. 

If she noticed anything then, she didn’t comment on it, doe-like eyes just marvelling at the screen in great intrigue. It was only when Peter’s arms wrapped around her a bit tighter did she scooch away from Bucky’s touch, with a small apology and shy grin. 

That only made his dick harder.

On the other side of Bucky, his super-soldier counterpart tapped his knee gently, forcing their blue eyes to meet each other. No words had to be said between the two, three men when they looked over to Sam, because they all recognized that look they saw in each other's eyes; predatory, dark, nearly voracious in the way they all wanted to be balls deep inside of Y/N.

And they would get there. No matter how long it took, they knew that the ultimate prize of tearing their prey apart would be more than worth the wait.

-

“Hey, babe, I’m gonna be a little late. Ned and I got stuck back in the lab, so we’re gonna need to stay until eight or nine. Can you make it to the tower by yourself alright?”

Peter’s concerned voice made Y/N smile gently as she trudged along the rainy streets of New York. He always loved to worry about her, especially when it was dark and gloomy out, but she could handle herself pretty okay. By pretty okay, of course meant she could kick ass like no other twenty-something year-old, but she wasn’t one to brag. Y/N readjusted the Kate Spade purse on her shoulder with her right hand, attempting to keep her umbrella over her head with the other. “I’ll be fine, Pete, just go finish up and get back to me. I’m gonna be waiting in your room at the tower before you go off on that mission this weekend.”

A small sigh came through the speaker, “Okay, I’ll try to get back to you soon. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Pete.” 

“Oh,” she could hear the shy but no less mischievous smile that was taking over his face, “I left you a little present on the bed, make sure you open it before I get back.”

Y/N’s face heated at the implication. “Peter Parker, you dirty little-” He ended the call with a laugh, and she huffed out a small chuckle at his childish antics.

The walk to the Avengers tower would have been nice, had it not been for the downfall of rain, making everything mushy, socks being absolutely soaked through her sneakers by the time she arrived. The receptionist at the front desk, Jenny, if Y/N remembered correctly, stared at her a little oddly, probably not expecting to see the young college girl in such a state of disorder, but it didn’t affect her at all. She confidently strutted up to the elevator, pressing in the floor number where all the rooms were located. Y/N scrolled through her Twitter feed on her phone while classic rock blared through the elevator with the constant shuffling of people moving in and out. Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds later she was sprinting down the halls with soggy shoes and damp hair, her cold body screaming for warmth.

Peter’s room was the farthest down the hall, and the room was fairly empty. He rarely stayed at his room in the tower, preferring to stay with his Aunt May or keep Y/N company in Brooklyn. When she entered the room, she saw a plain white shirt and a pair of socks strewn upon the carpeted floor, but what really caught her eye was the red box wrapped in a pink bow on the bed. Deciding it would add more suspense if she opened it later, she quickly hopped in the shower, letting the hot water warm her freezing, rigid muscles under the spray. 

Peter didn’t have all the products she’d usually use before she knew they were going to have sex, so she had to make do with the half-used bar of Irish Spring and his small travel-sized bottles of shampoo and conditioner, promising the fresh, breezy smell of citrus and mint. It was a quick process; two squeezes of shampoo, shaving with the green soap as best as she could without cutting herself, one squeeze of conditioner. A fuzzy towel sat waiting for Y/N on the rack, with the Spiderman symbol as a prank gift from her to her lovely boyfriend, and without a second to let the heat leave her damp skin, she wrapped herself in it, quickly hopping out to the bedroom again.

The lingerie she set out on the bed was a deep set burgundy color, with lace decorating the delicate corset and the trim of the satin panties. The packaging really did not do it justice. Y/N grinned at the new set, one that she knew would happily be torn from her body later. A shiver ran through her as she let the cold air fall over her skin, carefully slipping the lingerie on. It was a damn shame, really; the set was quite nice, and she reminded herself to buy more of the nicely suiting color for their nights together. 

Click.

Y/N’s heart thumped with anticipation as she heard the door open and she took a quick moment to ready herself. Hair in perfect style, legs stretched along the length of the bed to make herself look as seductive as possible, a small smirk thrown on her pouty lips.

But in the darkened room, it wasn’t Peter’s shadow that appeared. Three men, three tall, bulkier men’s shadows appeared at the foot of the bed, and horror washed over her as she realized who they were. “Goddamn, dolly, I’ve imagined what you would’ve looked like under those sweaters, but this is much sweeter than I expected.”

The sinister face of Bucky Barnes came into her view, just a sliver of moonlight lighting up his pale skin. His eyes raked over Y/N’s uncovered skin, and goosebumps appeared as she tried to cover herself up under his predatory gaze.

“W-what are you doing here?” She whispered worriedly. Sam and Steve flanked the bed on either side of her, plastered sickly sweet smiles on their faces, providing her with a false sense of security that made her heart scream in fear. Though she wasn't making any noise, her lungs felt like they were going to give out, her throat closing up like an allergic reaction. 

Her head whipped every which way in robotic movement, her brain seeming to fail her as she scanned the room for an exit. Several moments of shortened breaths, cold air chilling her body, before she came out of her freezing shock to realization.

“Why are you here? Please, get out, just g-get out!”

A calloused hand pushed away Y/N’s left arm that covered her tits, and Steve groaned at the sight of her pebbled nipples. “God, baby, they’re as pretty as I thought they’d be. Been trying to feel them up all week, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

Saturday the week before at lunch when he’d spilled water over chest and tried to clean her up. Sam’s friendly hug that became a bit less friendly when his hands slipped into the back pockets of her jeans. The movie night on Monday when Bucky’s hand caressed her thigh a little too close to her core. All of their touches began to make more sense, and her eyes filled with tears at the realization. 

“Please,” she begged, tears blocking her vision, “I promise I won’t tell anyone, not even Pete, but please just go.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Steve asked. He grasped her chin roughly, his face close enough to hers so that she could feel his fiery breath on her lips. “We’re not leaving, sweetheart. You’re gonna let all three of us play with your pretty little body, and you’re gonna make the prettiest sounds for us, alright?”

Y/N shook her head violently, too afraid to make noise, but also bold enough to make one last attempt at freedom. The hand that held her chin quickly moved to slap her cheek, and she hated the way the sting made heat stir in her lower belly. She tried to shy away from their touch again, but Bucky’s face simply held the same smirk as he trailed his vibranium fingers up and down her leg. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N, don’t act all shy now. Peter has been telling us how good you’ve been to him and don’t think he hasn’t told us about your little childhood crush on little ol’ me. Been wanting to fuck you ever since.” Bucky’s hand quickly left her body, instead moving to palm over the bulge in his pants. “Fuck, sweetheart, got me real hard just thinking ‘bout your pussy swallowing my cock. Bet you’re gonna be a sweet, obedient girl for me, right?”

Fire started to course through Y/N’s veins, and with all the power she tried to dampen it down with, it seemed to push through her body that much more dangerously. She despised the fact that she could feel herself growing wet for the three older men, but God, she had never felt the need to be filled up as badly as she did in that moment.

“You’re a bit of a slut, don’t you think?” Sam mocked. He kneeled on her right, his eyes fixated on her panty-clad pussy, a wet patch already forming on the soft satin. It really didn’t help that three of her teen celebrity crushes were eyeing her nearly naked body like a piece of meat. “I mean, look at you, already growing wet and needy for three cocks. Is that what you want, honey? Parker not treating you good enough?”

She hesitated. Goosebumps rose across her skin at the sinister tone of his voice, like he already knew it was true. And it was true and she hated that Sam was right, but as amazing as Peter was a boyfriend, it was clear from the vibrator hiding in his apartment’s bathroom that he was not amazing in the sheets. Every time, she held hope that it would be better, that she would finally get to stop faking an orgasm before he rolled out of the bed with a filled up condom, but she knew deep down inside of her that it wasn’t happening anytime soon. Y/N forced herself to nod weakly at Sam’s questions, and Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you poor dolly, we’re gonna have so much fun with you. Treat you better than that little boy ever could.”

All it took was a whimper, a nearly audible, deadly silent whimper that managed to squeak its way past Y/N’s throat, and the three men took it as permission to ravage her body however they pleased.

Steve made quick work of his pants as Sam lifted her chin to kiss him, his tongue hot and heavy against her mouth, coaxing her lips open. The sound of belt buckles hitting the floor shamefully turned on Y/N even more. Panic coursed through her senses, her mind wanting to scream for them to stop, but her body knew her too well as she felt a wave of slick run down her thighs. Cold metal digits slipped under the waistband of her panties, moving to her wet folds, and she whimpered into Sam’s mouth at the touch. 

“You look so nice, baby, so pretty all laid out for us like this.” Bucky’s hands pulled down her panties as Steve pinched her peaked nipple through the lace, laying lavish, open-mouthed kisses down her torso. The cool air hit her pussy when Bucky’s hands pulled her legs wide open, fully exposed to the three men ready to use her against her will. “Knew you’d be so wet for us, sweetheart, just look at you. Dripping all for your daddies,” Steve murmured against her skin.

Hot breath fanned over her cunt before they rolled her over on her stomach, someone’s hands forcing her up onto her knees with her face smashed into the cotton pillows. She could feel two rough human hands pulling her ass cheeks apart, spreading her ever wider for their view. “Would you look at that, boys, look how fucking hot she is for us.”

Sam’s thick finger ran through her folds, the calloused pad of his finger just teasing her clit before landing a harsh smack to the inside of her thigh. Her moan was muffled through the mattress and she prayed they wouldn’t hear how being treated like whore made her wet like nothing else. 

Hot slick dripped down her thighs, a pool of it staining the pristine sheets by each knee. It was quite a sight, Steve, kneeled by the bed as his face hovered next to her ear, whispering filthy things into her ear as Bucky stroked his hard, leaking cock right next to him. Sam’s lips were making their way up the inside of her right thigh, cracked skin gliding across her sticky flesh. “Oh, baby,” he purred, “you smell so good. Bet you taste even better, don’t you, little girl?”

His tongue reached the apex of her thighs, finally licking a stipe up her center with no warning. Y/N sobbed into the comforter below her, mascara stained tears marking up her face. Two fingers edged their way between the bed and her face, forcing her head upwards and arching her back. Steve’s face was caught in a dirty smirk above hers, lip pulled taut between his teeth, until he saw the tears trailing down her face. “Oh, sweetheart, you look so desperate like this.” His fingers traced her smeared lip gloss around her lips, before opening her lips harshly. “Open up, you dumb baby.”

Y/N forced her jaw open wider, just enough to watch a string of Steve’s saliva drip into her mouth. The thick spit pooled on her tongue and she tried hard not to grimace in front of him, in hopes that he wouldn’t make her- 

“Swallow it, sweetheart.” He saw the hesitation in her eyes, how her lower lip trembled at his words, but he just laughed at her. “Now.”

The warm saliva slid down her tongue and more black tears ran down her face as she obliged his orders, finally gulping it and cringing at the taste. Steve loved the way her face screwed up in displeasure, how she still had the audacity to pretend she hated what they were doing though she was moaning and whimpering with Sam’s tongue attacking her entrance.

“What do you want, sweetheart? We might give it to you as long as you use your words.” Bucky taunted lightly.

Y/N stared up at the brunette, staring menacingly down at her with his cock in hand. “Please,” she whimpered.

The three found it woeful, the way she could barely get a full sentence out as Sam went to town with his skilled tongue, but even with that onslaught, a simple please wasn’t enough for them.

“Please what, honey,” Sam moaned from between her legs, “you gotta use your big words or we’ll never know what you want from us.”

Steve and Bucky nodded in fake-agreement even though they all knew exactly what she wanted and where. 

“I don’t-” her widened eyes glanced into Steve’s, blown-out and teary. “I don’t want anything, not from you.” She lied through her teeth harshly.

Sam removed his head from between her thighs and Y/N immediately whined at the loss of contact almost hilariously. “You don’t want anything, little girl?” 

The air felt static, every hair on her neck rising in the pressured silence. The angel and the devil clawed at her heart, each trying to show her what was right. And she wanted to sin, God knew that she would love nothing more than to let that little greedy part of her take over, but she’d already cheated on Peter and that damn good part of her conscience stole the wheels of her brain.

Slowly and shamefully, she shook her head, though the downright dirty monster inside of her wanted the men to ignore her words and keep assaulting her body. 

“That’s a shame, baby, I thought we were having fun.” Sam sighed. He met Bucky’s gaze on the side, and though they seemed to be in resignation with her wishes, their eyes twinkled devilishly. He positioned his body over Y/N’s kneeled over form, his bare chest glued to her sweating back as his hands ran up the sides of her ribcage and to her front, just barely grazing over her sensitive nipples. “You mean, you don’t want me to touch you here?”

He pinched the darkened buds and she had to use every ounce of self-restraint to not collapse at the sensation. His calloused hands moved back even further, tracing down to the stretch of skin just above her mound, swiping a finger across the skin delicately. “How about here? Or even,” he brought three fingers around her body, over her ass, and into her glistening cunt again, just rubbing along her entrance, not daring to go further in. Y/N couldn’t hold in her reaction to his prodding anymore, his teasing chipping away all of her dignity and pride in a few simple touches. 

“Yes, please, please, use your fingers,” she blurted against her will. Where shame should have washed over her, there was only lust, raging red and coursing through her body so forcefully that she felt braindead. “Put your fingers in me, daddy, please.”

The pet name rolled off of her tongue so easily and she was barely ashamed of how it made her feel. The name especially shocked the three men, who smiled even wider with their cocks harder than before at the little slip up. “That was all you had to say, dolly, gonna have your daddies make you feel real good,” Bucky laughed.

Sam finally plunged his thick fingers knuckle-deep into her cunt as Steve’s mouth captured hers, effectively swallowing her scream with ferocity. The long digits scissored and swirled inside of her, pressing against new unexplored areas that she’d never even gotten to with her own fingers. White dots danced along the front line of her vision as teeth clashed against hers and though it’d been mere minutes she already knew she was close and the men did as well.

“I can feel you clamping around my fingers, honey,” Sam taunted. His lips were moving sinfully around her ass, planting sloppy kisses and drooling all over her skin while he fingered her deep. “Are you gonna come soon, baby?”

“Yes, daddy, I’m so- fuck,” Y/N panted into Steve’s mouth, “m’ so c-close.” The blond bit her tongue hard enough for her to taste blood and she yelped as she heard Sam and Bucky laugh. 

“Watch your language, dolly,” Bucky sneered from the side of the bed. His hand was rapidly moving around his cock, corkscrew motions edging him towards the brink of pleasure. 

“Little girls like you don’t get to use big swear words,” Sam’s face was still buried between her legs, his soaked fingers pulling out of her cunt only to rub at her little pearl of nerves in circles. His tongue still lapped at her dripping entrance and he could feel her tight hole start to pulse as her breathing picked up. “Oh, baby, you’re getting close, aren’t you?”

Y/N was hesitant to answer at first, the sweat on her body seeming to cool immediately in fear of what would happen if she messed up. But after five seconds Steve stopped kissing her, gripping her chin and staring into her eyes deeply. He looked as debauched as she felt, with his rosy lips swollen with spit and cheeks tinged with pink. “Are you gonna answer daddy, sweetheart?”

That knocked her into shape real fast.

“Yes, daddy, I’m so close. P-please let me come,” she whimpered. The whine in her voice pleased the two men, and Steve went back to exploring her mouth before she felt something poking against her asshole.

“Gonna let daddy put his cock in you, little girl?” Sam asked gently. His words had panic coursing through her system, a chilling realization like water being poured on her head and she began to wiggle around, trying to free Sam’s hand from her hip. Her arms weakly pushed at Steve’s chest, trying to push him as far away as he could, but the men only laughed at her flailing limbs. Y/N wanted to scream no to them, and despite her contrasting love-hate relationship with Sam’s fingers inside her cunt she knew it was time to go. It was laughable how much she would continue to say that to herself for the rest of the night. 

But Sam managed to sense her panic, knowing exactly what the issue was before harshly spanking her and effectively stopping her struggle. “Don’t worry, baby, I won’t come inside of you. I’m not risking knocking up a whore with my kids, I’ve got more dignity than that.”

He led the leaking tip of his dick down her crack, rubbing it along her slick entrance before pushing in with a groan. “Oh my fucking God, that is so hot.” Bucky admonished from the side. “Gotta get in on that soon.”

Steve chuckled against Y/N’s lips, pulling away with a strand of saliva connecting them. He adjusted himself up so his dick was centimeters from her face, a knee propped up on the bed for balance. “Gotta wait your turn, Buck, we all want a piece of her.” He noticed the way Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his cock, the red mushroom head smeared with precome along the slit, nearly purplish veins standing out prominently on his shaft. Yeah, he couldn’t even deny that he was big because he already knew how many girls had dropped down on their knees for him. “Go ahead, sweetheart, open up those pretty lips for me.”

Almost too excitedly, she dropped her jaw, allowing him to slide his cock into the silky warmth of her mouth. As his hips started to thrust into her mouth, Sam’s started to do the same into her cunt. Both men moaned in tandem with their movements as Y/N’s worries faded away to the back of her mind as they stuffed her to the brim.

“You can come now, baby,” Sam nearly ordered, “go and cream on daddy’s cock- fuck, I know you’ve been waiting.”

It was a harsh bump of his head against her G-spot that sent her over the edge, walls clamping down with ferocity and milking him for all she was worth. Y/N reeled in the sunlight infested warmth that coursed through her body as she finally let go, whining around Steve’s dick as he continued to abuse her throat with long, deep thrusts. 

Bucky was still holding his orgasm off, fondling with his tight, heavy sac while his dick remained a painfully hard mess, glistening with precome. “I’m so glad I got to see you come, dolly, look so fucking pretty when you do.”

She couldn’t deny the little skip of her heart at the praise, just a few simple words that made her feel like a good little girl. But no, God-fucking no, she wasn’t supposed to let them make her feel this way. Guilt washed away that warmth in her chest just as quickly, knowing that her boyfriend was just waiting to come back to see her, finishing up his studies so that they could live their lives out together after college while she was getting her pussy and mouth absolutely wrecked by his co-workers. 

As soon as Y/N got her brain thinking straight again, Sam started moving inside of her again and she garbled out a strangled cry. “If you thought we were done here, baby,” Sam laughed, “you’ve got a lot left ahead of you.”

“We’re not leaving until all of us have come, brat.” Steve’s palm gripped the back of her skull roughly, pushing her head so far down on his dick that her nose was squished against his abdomen. “Greedy little bitch.”

Both men started to thrust into her again, and just like that she was back to being absolutely lost in desire and lust like the bitch in heat she was until there was a sudden shift in the air. So much that the sweat on her body began to cool her skin, Sam’s hands still gripping her hips so tightly she knew they’d leave marks that she would have to hide when she wore her favorite low-cut shorts. 

Bucky’s eyes seemed to drift from her tits moving with each movement of her hips, checking behind the door as if there were something lurking there, but she was too afraid to see for herself. If she stopped she would get spanked, and they’d probably prolong her second orgasm even further, and her pussy couldn’t handle any more subtle teasing.  

“Hey there, Parker, why don’t come on out here?”

But that, that was what made the hairs on Y/N’s neck rose, dread filling her to the fullest as she realized the implications of Sam’s words.

Peter had seen everything. Peter, her boyfriend, had seen three of his co-workers, three men who she barely knew, fuck her deep into his mattress. Peter, her boyfriend, had watched her get fucked into his mattress, without trying to stop them whatsoever.

She couldn’t tell if it was the guilt of cheating on her boyfriend or the freezing realization that he hadn’t done anything to stop the three men that hurt more. 

Yet Peter still walked from behind the door, dressed in a NYU hoodie and a pair of khakis slung low on his hips, just drawing attention to the sizable bulge that stretched out his zipper. His umber eyes, normally full of so much joy and love, were possessed by the same lust and darkness as the three men, as much as he tried to hide it behind a shyer facade. 

His eyes were trained on the tightness of how Y/N’s pussy was gripping Sam, her lips glossed over with come and spit wrapped around Steve’s dick. The girl stopped in her movements, her eyes no longer full of tears for just being gagged, but as soon as her mouth came to a halt around the base of his cock, the blond slapped her across the face. A sharp crack echoed around the room and though she couldn’t see him, she heard Bucky’s feral growl of pleasure at the whorish treatment she was receiving. 

“Didn’t say you could fucking stop, sweetheart, keep working on daddy’s cock.” No more words needed to be said as Steve gripped her hair once more, forcing himself farther back into her throat to the point where she couldn’t breathe. Sam’s thrusts were quickening, closer and closer to release as the sounds of the girl struggling to breath made his balls tighten. 

“Fucking shit, baby, you feel yourself squeezing my dick? I bet you like teasing daddy like that, don’t you?” One of his hands were brought down on her ass in a quick smack that resonated with Bucky, who was staving off his orgasm for something much sweeter than his hand. She was moaning raucously around the dick stuffed in her mouth, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure up every nerve in Steve’s body as he came with the tip of his dick nearly being swallowed by Y/N’s throat. There was barely any time for her to fully down the thick come in her mouth before Sam was threatening to orgasm. “I’m gonna come so soon but you better fucking not, little girl, you hear me? Gotta let your daddy come before you, you ungrateful little bitch- oh.”

It was a really fucking close call, Sam’s dick pulling out of her with one quick movement before spilling pearly ropes of come onto Y/N’s spine. A high whine escaped her mouth, clit throbbing as she was so, so close to coming, and she was too far into her crazed pleasure to realize that she was letting three older men, men who fought to defend the universe from evil, use her as an over-glorified fleshlight. 

She couldn’t really blame them for calling her a cockdrunk whore. 

Bucky sauntered over to the bed, eyes trained on the pool of come centered around the base of her spine before flipping her over onto her back with his large hands and shoving three vibranium fingers back into her hole. She gasped and held onto his forearm as he continued to fingerfuck her to her second orgasm, eyes screwed shut in a delirious haze of contentment for being filled with at least something again. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, please-” Steve slapped her along the face, correcting her words immediately. “Daddy, daddy, please let me come.”

Bucky chuckled, tweaking one of her nipples with his flesh hand as he hovered over her face. “I don’t know, dolly, you’ve been a little naughty, callin’ me the wrong name, not listening to Stevie’s orders- don’t think you deserve to get what you want.”

A muffled whimper escaped her swollen lips, and he sighed in surrender. “Okay, dollface, go ahead and come on my fingers. Let me see how you wet ‘em up real good.”

Y/N’s hips bucked into his metal digits with finality, come leaking out of her cunt and soaking the sheets below her. Her sweat-glazed skin shone even against the darkening sky, and all Bucky could do was chuckle at how her chest rose quickly as she tried to catch her breath. He thought about teasing her clit again, just circling around the little bud of nerves to get a rise out of her, but he decided against it. Sam probably had better plans for her anyway. 

On the other hand, Y/N’s orgasm was starting to wear off as she noticed the hardened stare from the edge of the room. Her boyfriend.

“Peter, I…” Y/N made eye contact with him, suddenly noticing how mousy he looked in his own bedroom. 

“I nearly forgot you were here, Parker,” Sam smirked darkly. “Why don’t you come over here and fuck your little whore. I’m feeling a little generous today.”

Steve and Bucky nodded with the same infuriating smugness as Sam. The brunette boy opened his mouth to object to the degrading statement, but when he met his girlfriend’s eyes nothing needed to be said. There was no escaping this. Nothing he said mattered to the three older men, because really they had already gotten everything they wanted right in front of their disgusting, perverted eyes. 

He unbuckled his belt, letting the weight of it drop his khakis to the floor. Maybe if he’d known he would be forced into join a fivesome later that night he’d have picked any other boxers but the Ducktales one, but no one seemed to say a word about them, rather focusing on what they were failing to conceal. 

Peter’s cock had always been admirable to Y/N by its length and God, definitely its thickness. Curved upwards towards his abdomen with a vein running along the left side up to the bulbous head, it was definitely more than average. It was really just a shame he didn’t know how to use it well enough.

His shirt was pulled over his head just as quickly, and if Y/N knew any better she would say that he was excited to get to fuck her in front of the three men. He placed himself in between Y/N’s parted legs, standing in the same position as he had so many times before.

But when Y/N cried out in pain and pleasure as he slid into her, Peter knew that this time, it was different. This time three men, men that he used to trust with his life, stood on either side of him and his girlfriend and jerked their hands up and down their cocks as they watched her get fucked relentlessly. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t romantic, but he couldn’t really think when his thick cock was stuffed inside of her stimulated pussy, juices and come leaking out of her abused sex. 

“Go faster, Parker,” Steve instructed, his face contorted in pure pleasure. The pace of Peter’s thrusts sped up, and he threw Y/N’s ankles over his shoulders, hitting deeper inside of her, with the sound of her sobs only turning them all on more. “Oh, right there, shit, shit, shit-”

Steve came first, a low groan escaping his lips as streams of come landed on her tits, still bouncing with every movement of Peter’s hips. 

“Open up,” Sam gritted through his teeth, and Y/N obediently opened her mouth to let his bitter come coat the inside of her throat, some of it landing on her face and neck. The string of curses he let out made Peter thrust even faster into her, and he hated, absolutely despised the way it turned him on to see the three men use his girlfriend to their pleasure. But soon enough a hand pushed against his chest away from Y/N and he reluctantly pulled out.

“Move aside, kid,” Bucky instructed, “Wanna come inside of her.”

As he lined his gigantic cock up with her entrance, her eyes widened with fear. “No, please, I didn’t take my pills, I can’t- I won’t, please not inside-”

“Shut the fuck up, you slut.” Bucky’s fingers came to slap her clit harshly, and she cried out in pain. “You’re gonna be quiet and let me come wherever I damn want, right?”

He punctuated his last word as he thrust inside her, filling her up to the hilt with his girth. She was too drunk on the feeling of her cunt being filled up to argue again. It was painful, extremely so, even though two different cocks had been inside her overstimulated pussy already and Bucky stretched her out wide, his cock thicker with veins to hit every pleasure point. With her legs tossed around his tapered torso, he slid out until his very tip was left in her, then slammed back in with a small moan. The head of his cock relentlessly pounded into her cervix in a nearly soundless tempo and all Y/N could hear were her own gasps of pleasure, jaw-dropping moans that made drool slide back down her throat in her laid down position.

She turned her head to the side, and though her vision was bleary through the tears, she could see Sam and Steve watching Bucky fuck her while Peter, her boyfriend, her sweet, sweet boyfriend, was caught up fucking his hand to the sound of Bucky’s balls slapping against her ass. 

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last much longer, dollface.” Bucky gasped. “You gonna come soon? You’re gonna come for daddy one more time. I think you’ve got a third one in you, you little fucking slut.”

“Shit, shit, daddy, please ‘m almost there,” Y/N wailed absentmindedly. A thumb came down to circle her clit quickly and she felt the coil in her stomach grow tighter and tighter, until she finally let out a high whine, finding her release as Bucky’s cock pulsed inside of her, ready to come just as easily as her. Her pussy clenched around his cock as she rode out her orgasm, fingers grasping at the sheets in order to find some sort of grounding. His come painted her walls white, and Bucky could’ve sworn there was no better feeling than feeling his blood warm in every vein as he finally let go. With stunted groans, his hips slowed its rhythm, lost in watching how his cock disappear into Y/N’s pussy, her slick juices coating his dick each time he pulled out. 

“Ah, fuck, dolly, you did so good for me. Pussy tight as a fuckin’ vice.” Bucky hugged her limp body close to his sweaty chest, letting his dick soften inside of her for a good few moments before pulling out. He tossed Y/N back onto the bed below him, barely even caring to clean the come dripping down her ribcage and out of her cunt before grabbing his boxers from the cabinet next to the bed. 

Steve was already buttoning his jeans up, checking the notifications on his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. The blond seemed to have better things to do so soon after, rushing his way to the door before pausing where Y/N laid to watch come drip out of her pussy. One more time he pushed Bucky’s come inside of her abused entrance, watching as it oozed out from behind his digits. “Look at you, fucking full of of his come. Such a goddamn whore,” he muttered under his breath.

Those were the last words he said to her before patting Bucky on the shoulder and leading him out of the opened door. 

Maybe Sam was a bit more kind, or affectionate at least. He was already dressed but visibly hard again beneath the thick denim of his pants, and he made sure Y/N knew it, taking her left hand and placing it over his dick. “You still got that effect on me, honey, even when you’re all fucked out like this.” He dragged his fingers through the thick ribbons of come that coated her chest, bringing them up to her mouth so she could taste. Even though she was more than exhausted, she wrapped her tongue around the two fingers that were pushed past her swollen lips, sucking them clean with a tired vengeance. Satisfied with her work, he kissed her chin one more time before leaving without so much as another word, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Click.

It ended exactly the way it started, the lock jostling into the doorknob just as easily as the high of Y/N’s final orgasm slipped away.

Stifling silence suffocated the room around them. Peter refused to meet her eyes, just as much as hers did his. She laid motionless on the bed with him standing at the foot, his dick soft and if she narrowed her bleary eyes just a bit, she could see how his knees were shaking. Neither of them were able to say anything, losing the ability to converse as soon as the three men left the room.

“Peter,” her voice was throaty after the rough fucking she took, “C-can you please get me a drink?”

The brown-haired boy looked down to meet her face, and she could finally see the reason that he had hid it from her. His eyes were red and bloodshot, snot running from his nose with tears running down his cheeks. She’d been so caught up in the after haze of the sex that she didn’t even notice how his bare chest was heaving so deeply, nearing hyperventalation. 

But still, he grabbed his boxers, pulling them over his weakened legs clumsily. “Y-yeah, what kind do you want, Mr. Stark has a ton-”

“I don’t care.” She cut him off firmly, a sharp tone in her voice as she rolled over on her side. Y/N tucked her knees to her chin, fingers running over the side of her neck which was marked with bruises and scratches. “I don’t fucking care.”

Without another word Peter slipped out of the room quietly, knowing better than to try to talk to her about what they had been forced to participate in. It wasn’t as if there was much to say anyways.

Rain pattered against the window. It was only six o’clock in the evening. Cars honked and beeped and Natasha’s Igor Stavinsky record played for its fiftieth round of the day, and to anyone else in the tower it was a normal night. Normal, just like the ones spent sitting on the couch with Bucky’s hand creeping up her leg or Sam’s hands groping her ass, but this time they’d made a move. 

The silence was far too much to handle, the unspoken truth of what she’d done with Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Peter finally hitting her, knocking the air out of her lungs as she suddenly struggled to breathe. Gripping her face, clawing at it like a goddamn wolf, Y/N began to cry. Silently at first, gradually growing into heartbroken sobs, she let her trodden pride carry her voice wherever it wanted to go. 

The men’s whispered words haunted her mere moments after they’d left the room, but most audibly she could hear a faint husk of a voice, Sam’s low moan in her ear looming in the dreadful silence of the room:

Thanks for sharing with us, baby.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Inner Conflict

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3586

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Some Angst, Some Fluff, Sam and Bucky being idiots, Mentions of PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression

A/N: Here’s Part Three to my FATWS Series, which I’m making a masterlist for that you can find Here. 

Uh…it’s a little long, and I apologize for that. It doesn’t even encompass the whole second episode, only the first half, so a Part 3.5 will be coming out later today probably (it’s my day off work so I have all day to relax and write!) I tried not doing a line for line rewrite of the episode, but there are quotes from the show in here. Mostly it’s Reader’s thoughts and feelings towards what’s happening while conversations are going on around. Reader’s backstory is a bit more unfurled. It’s more action packed and more scene-for-scene of the episode than the previous two. Less emotions shared and less hurt/comfort type of thing, but that’ll be back in the next part probably along with more scenes not in the show. The next part I’m planning won’t be as long, it’ll mainly just be the Couples Therapy scene and a bit more angst with her and Sam and her and Bucky.

Because there’s four more episodes and I don’t know what’s going to happen in them, I’m kinda hesitant on spilling out exactly what is going on with the Reader and what her role was on the original team, but we’ll get there. Also, I wasn’t expecting to be writing multiple pieces for one episode, but if the other episodes are as packed as this one, prepare yourself for more parts than anticipated. We’re already on Part 3 and I’ve got Part 3.5 coming. Just bare with me as I don’t know what’s going to happen in future episodes! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it! 

(Not beta’d so excuse any mistakes.)

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

Walking out of the shower, ruffling a towel through your hair to dry it off, you froze at the sound of the TV. A sigh left your lips. It’s all he’d been doing the last few days - watching the news. Keeping up with the tour for the new Captain America.

You peeked out of the small bedroom to find Bucky sitting on the floor, brow creased as he watched John Walker talk to the Good Morning America hostess.

“You shouldn’t be watching that.” You spoke up, leaning on the doorway, still patting your hair dry. He glanced over to you, taking in the towel wrapped around you, before looking back at the TV. Seeing you like that wasn’t anything new. “Buck, I’m serious. Brooding over it won’t make anything better.”

“What do you want me to do?”

You let out a sigh, shifting your feet and biting your lip as you thought about how to respond. “I-I haven’t figured it out yet. But obsessing over the new guy-”

“Aren’t you mad?”

You frowned at his question, his eyes meeting yours once more. “I told you already that I am.”

He tilted his head, which he did when he was confused, his eyes narrowing. “Why don’t you show it? Why aren’t you screaming or cursing or crying or something? You, of all people-”

“Because it won’t help anything, Buck.” You shook your head, pushing off the wall. “I want to. But if I let myself go down that road…” Dropping your gaze to the floor, you take a breath, collecting your thoughts. “This is such a complicated situation, James. I’m being contacted left and right for a statement on the new Captain. People trying to see my reaction. Senators trying to get me to meet with him. I can’t let myself snap. I can’t.”

He scowled. “They’re still bothering you?”

A dry chuckle escaped your lips and you nodded. “Makes me miss the days when no one knew who I was; when I was the behind-the-scenes seventh Avenger. But I made that choice to come out, and I have to deal with the consequences now. Blowing up will only-”

“Even though I never met him…he feels like a brother.”

That one statement stopped you in your tracks. Bucky’s head whipped back to the TV, his jaw ticking, his nose scrunching up.

“Did he really just say that?”

Bucky merely nodded, his chest heaving as he tried getting his breathing under control. “Feel like snapping now?”

You purse your lips as you held in the tears stinging your eyes. After composing yourself, you moved over and grabbed the remote, letting out a tiny sniffle as you did so. You tentatively touched Bucky’s shoulder, silently asking him if he needed anything from you. His response was to open his arms, so you quickly got down besides him to hold him.

“He is my brother, doll.”

“I know, Buck.” You pressed a soft kiss to his head, which rested against your bare shoulder.

Your bare knees are pressed harshly against the wooden panels of the floor, and you’re twisted awkwardly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. As long as he was comfortable, you would take the uncomfortable position. As long as he was being held, you would take the soreness it would leave. As long as you could help him be some sort of okay, you would take not being okay in this position.

 You two sat like that for a few more moments before your phone buzzed. You gave a sigh, pulling back and holding his cheeks in either hand. He wasn’t crying, although he was on the verge of doing so. You’d seen him cry before, so you knew he didn’t mind. For you it was a different story.

Bucky had maybe seen you cry twice since the whole Blip thing went down. And one of them was over the phone, so he didn’t see it so much as he heard it. You didn’t let yourself cry in front of him. Or anyone, for that matter. It was a part of you. The only person you ever felt comfortable enough around to cry in front of…wasn’t there. And you couldn’t change that.

“We’ll figure it out.” You told him, nodding gently and letting a small, sad smile quirk the corners of your lips up. “Okay? We’ll figure it out.”

The clench in his jaw loosened as your fingers worked circles into the hinge, making him relax and nod back. You pressed a tender kiss to his forehead before standing up, moving across the room to where your phone was on the counter. You assumed it’d be another government official or news reporter, so you were slightly shocked to see ‘Sammy’ flashing up at you.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you read his message, a slight pout forming on your face. 

“Doll?” Toned arms wrapped around you, warm and cool, his chin setting on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Sam. He needs my help with something.”

“I’m coming with you.”

You turned in his arms, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Why?”

He shrugged, licking his lips. “You might need help.”

“Bucky, you can’t go if you’re just going to yell at him.”

“I won’t.”

You studied his features. He was lying, you knew that. Of course he was going to snap at Sam for giving up the shield. He was mad and they got on each others’ nerves every chance they could find, so of course he was going to.

But you still found yourself saying yes and telling him to go pack a bag. You were never able to say no to Steve and it seemed that got passed on. What a nuisance it was.

****************

And you were so right. It was the first thing he said once Sam came into view coming down the stairs.

“You shouldn’t have given up the shield, Sam.”

“James.” You squeezed the hand he was holding, voice pleading for him not to do this right now. He huffed, stepping back to let you greet Sam properly, giving the man a hug. “Hi, Sammy.”

“It’s been a while.” Sam commented, pulling back and holding you by the shoulders. “You look good. Not that you’ve ever looked otherwise.”

You gave him a small smile. “You do too.”

“Thanks for coming. I know it’s short notice, but-”

“It’s fine, Sam. Really.” You insist.

Sam nodded, before eyeing Bucky. “Did you have to bring him?”

“Samuel-”

“This is wrong.” Bucky cut in, staring Sam down, falling into step besides him as the man started heading outside.

“James-”

“Hey, hey. Look. I’m working, all right?”

You rolled your eyes as the two started arguing, stopping your stride to take a breather. You used to joke about babysitting them, but it didn’t feel like a joke anymore and you were getting tired of it. All the bickering for no reason. The contempt they held for one another. Steve made you promise that you would look out for them, and you were trying, but they weren’t making it easy.

When you joined them again, you raised an eyebrow at the direction the conversation turned. How the hell did they get from arguing about the shield to what a wizard is?

“Ahh! Haha! A sorcerer is a wizard without a hat!”

You gave Sam a look as he babbled about how he was right. “Sorcerer Mickey has a hat. Isn’t that, like, how he gets his powers and everything?”

Bucky grinned at you. “Thank you!”

“Excuse you!” Sam scoffed, pointing an accusing finger at you. “We were having a conversation!”

“Yeah. A stupid conversation I just ended. Now I’m gonna be in the plane. Feel free to join me when you’re done being idiots.”

They both spluttered, but you were already walking away, leaving no room for arguments. As you loaded onto the plane, you spotted the Lieutenant whom Sam mentioned who had been helping him out with missions. Torres, you thought, remembering his name from a previous phone call with your friend.

“You Lieutenant Torres?” You asked, walking up to him.

He blinked, before his eyes widened, a grin appearing on his face. He seemed young, which you were perfectly okay with considering you’ve been working alongside old men for the past decade. It was always nice to work with a fresh face, which you found after you started working with Wanda and Peter.

The thought of the two youngest members made you falter, not having heard from either of them since Christmas almost six months prior, but you quickly recovered yourself, shaking away the worries you had for them.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N! I’m a huge fan! I’ve read all your files!”

Chuckling a little, you held out your hand. “Most of those are heavily classified.”

He ducked his head with a little blush, rubbing the back of his neck after shaking your hand. “I, uh, I might’ve…used connections.”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him, throwing him a wink. “I won’t tell. Can you tell me what’s going on? Sam didn’t exactly explain the situation.”

He nodded, getting into ‘work mode’, something you’ve seen in most military men, informing you of their recent missions and the group known as the Flag-Smashers and giving you a file on them. He was in the middle of telling you about his solo mission in Germany when your two fellas came in, sending each other small glares, but remaining quiet.

Bucky caught your eye and sent an apologetic look your way, to which you just smiled at before turning back to Torres.

“Well I’m glad you’re okay.” You told him once he was done.

“Oh yeah. It wasn’t that bad.”

You laughed and nodded. “I’m sure. You seem like a tough kid.”

He smiled, before looking around and jabbing his thumb behind his shoulder. “I-I’ve gotta go, but-”

“We can talk later.” You promised with a grin.

“Really?!”

“Of course! I have a feeling we’ll be working together more, and I like getting to know who’s gonna have my back.”

He beamed and nodded, walking backwards. “That’d be awesome! Talk to you later then!”

You giggled as he turned around and jogged off, pumping his fist in the air. You turned to a grinning Sam and nodded towards where Torres left. “I like him. Seems like a nice kid.”

“He is. Very energetic. A little reckless, but he’s got a good heart.”

You hummed, the smile falling from your face as you flipped through the file Torres gave you. “So…Munich?”

“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry again for taking you away from the search, but-”

“Search is off.” You informed him quickly, not looking up. “Until further notice.”

The plane went quiet, before Sam cleared his throat. “So…no sign of Wanda yet, then?”

You shut the file, looking up at the men whose features were laced with concern. “I’m gonna go talk to the pilot. Behave while I’m gone. No pushing each other off the plane.”

“Doll?”

You were stopped by the hand that grabbed your wrist as you passed Bucky. You shot him another smile, knowing it wasn’t convincing enough for him, but it being the best one you had. “I’m okay. I’ve just gotta ask him some questions.”

************

Opening your mouth to stop him, you groaned when Bucky jumped out of the plane before you could speak. First Sam jumps without sharing the plan, then Bucky jumps without having a plan. Or a parachute. Or wings. Or anything.

Torres looked at you, but all you could do was shrug. “I dunno what to tell you, kid.”

“You’re not gonna do that, are you?”

“No.” You reassured him, shaking your head. “I’m gonna wait ‘til we land like a normal person and take my bike. I just have to pray that they’ll wait to do anything stupid until I get there.”

They didn’t wait. You’re pretty sure they didn’t even think about waiting. By the time you got to them, they were fighting - and losing, might you add - to six really strong people on top of two semi trucks.

Because why wouldn’t they?

Oh, oh. And on top of that, the fake was there, throwing the shield. The shield that didn’t belong to him. The shield that meant so much more than he would ever know.

“Hi, doll! Sorry we started the party without you!” Bucky shouted from where he was hanging off the edge, that close to the street and getting his head torn off by the tire.

“I’m so tired of babysitting you two, you know that?!”

“Oh! Sorry we’re such an inconvenience for you! Blame him! He jumped the gun!” Sam shouted, coming to fly next to you as you rolled up your sleeves, standing on your bike, using one hand to steer.

“Can I get a little help already?!”

“Sam-!”

“On it!”

Knowing that no matter how much they pissed each other off, Sam would make sure Bucky was okay and vice versa, you focused on getting to the top, where Walker and a buddy of his were struggling a little bit.

You climbed up to the roof of the semi no one was on, wincing when you heard your bike skidding across the pavement. There goes half your salary.

You couldn’t dwell on it for very long, considering one of the guys appeared in front of you. You recognized the fighting - the strength - and faltered, a memory resurfacing at a very bad time.

~

“C’mon, honey. You can do better than that.” Steve grinned at you, holding out a hand to help you up.

“Excuse me for not having super strength, Rogers.” You huffed out, taking it and letting him pull you up.

“You don’t need to be stronger than me. You just need to be smarter.”

“That’ll be easy.” You teased, stretching your arms before getting into your stance again. “You’re a dumbass sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, who chose to be friends with this dumbass?”

“Everyone needs a dumbass for a friend.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “So I’m your dumbass?”

“If you want.”

The grin he shot you made your heart skip a beat. “If you’ll have me.”

~

You blinked, but Steve wasn’t in front of you anymore and you weren’t in the gym in DC. 

The guy caught the punch you distractedly threw and twisted your arm, making you cry out, kicking him in the back of the knee and flipping him over your shoulder.

You went to kick him again, but he caught your leg and threw you against the side of the other semi. You were able to grab onto where Bucky had ripped through the side, but you winced as the metal cut through your palm. Sam had just flown under the trucks, taking Buck with him, and you knew when a fight wasn’t worth it, so you quickly moved around the truck, letting Walker and his pal distract the Flag-Smashers, before letting yourself fall onto the side where the grass was.

You wanted to lay there, to catch your breath and curse yourself for getting distracted. You hadn’t had a flashback like that in a while. But you didn’t let yourself. You had to make sure the guys were okay.

Standing up made you cringe; you could feel the throbbing in your shoulder from where it was no doubt dislocated and your leg was aching, the muscle probably pulled when the guy threw you.

“Doll!” You turned, seeing Bucky and Sam sprinting towards you a few yards down the road. “Hey, hey.” Bucky immediately had his hands hovering over you, scanning your body. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, shoving his hands away. “I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

“I think I dislocated it.”

Sam frowned. “What the hell happened?”

You gave him a weird look, starting to limp across the field to where you noticed a side road earlier. “They were super soldiers, Sam. And we got our asses kicked.”

“Yeah, but you know how to fight a super soldier-”

“It’s been a while.”

“Bullshit.” Sam side stepped in front of you, making you stop. “What happened?”

“I-I just got distracted, okay?”

“Y/N. Look at me.” Bucky took your face between his palms, eyes worried. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. A tired sigh left your lips and you looked anywhere but his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just hurting. My leg, I think I pulled it or something-”

“C’mere.” Bucky turned and crouched down, making you blink.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t be walking. We don’t wanna make it worse.”

“But it’s just a strain, it won’t-”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get on the man’s back, Y/N.”

You bit your lip before sighing and carefully climbing on his back. He shifted you gently, making sure to hold your leg with caution, leaning his head into yours when you hooked your chin on his shoulder. “You-you don’t have to talk about what happened. Just-just know that when you do…I’ll be here, okay?”

You nodded, moving to press your nose against the column of his throat. “Okay.”

But you could never tell them. How could you? How could you tell the world’s longest POW that you were having nightmares? How could you complain to an Air Force vet who served two tours in Afghanistan and watched his best friend get blown out of the air that you were having flashbacks?

You weren’t sure if it was PTSD or anxiety or depression. Maybe all three. It didn’t matter, though, because you didn’t want to admit it. You wouldn’t admit it. No one thought the Blip messed you up that badly. No one thought Steve leaving did that much damage. And you were okay with that. You were okay with them thinking you were healing - that you were fine - because they needed to see that it could be done. That they could be fine, too. Especially the men walking, Sam teasing Bucky per usual.

It wasn’t until a horn honked that you allowed yourself to be pulled out of your thoughts. A scoff left you when you realized who it was, switching the side you were laying on so your cheek pressed up against the cool metal of his left shoulder, facing away from the jeep.

You tried ignoring the guy as he talked about working together and shit, taking a shuddering breath, making Bucky squeeze your uninjured thigh. There was no way you were working with him. You couldn’t. It’d be like betraying Steve and you didn’t need that on top of all the other things you were dealing with.

You couldn’t deny the need for a ride though. The airport was 20 miles away and you were hurting pretty bad. You suspected that was the reason the guys relented, Bucky tenderly setting you down in the jeep between him and Sam, careful of your injuries.

You stared at your lap as Walker and Sam talked shop. You understood where they were coming from, you were always able to see both sides of the coin, but it didn’t mean you were going to willingly work with him.

“I got mad respect for all of y’all, but you were kind of getting your asses kicked till we showed up.”

You scoffed at that, finally raising your eyes to meet Walker’s friend’s. “Like you were doing any better?”

Bucky reached over to grab her hand that was resting on her lap. “You know, I’ve been trying to get in contact with you.” Walker faced you, eyes raking down your form. Bucky shifted in his spot, but you ran your thumb over his knuckles before he could do or say anything stupid.

“Yeah. I know. My phone hasn’t stopped blowing up for a week. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Walker frowned. “If you just answered-”

“I don’t care who you are. I don’t care what you’ve done. I’ve been a little busy doing my job to blow smoke up your ass on national television. Sorry if my saving people’s lives has been an inconvenience for you, but some wannabe playing dress up isn’t my top priority.”

Walker’s brows furrowed and he was about to say something, when Bucky cut in, asking his friend who he was. You were already that close to jumping out of the jeep, when the guy, Hoskins, told you three that he went by ‘Battlestar’.

If the situation wasn’t so aggravating, you would’ve laughed when Bucky immediately told the driver to stop, opening the door before the car even stopped. “C’mere, doll.” He murmured, lifting you up into his arms bridal style, before walking off, tuning out Walker as he shouted after you two.

You pouted a little when you saw Sam still talking to the guy. “What’re they talking about, Buck?”

“Some nonsense about him not replacing Steve. Just trying to be the best Captain America he can.”

You laid your head against Bucky’s chest. “The best Captain America is Steve. He can never be Steve.”

“I know, doll.”

“Steve told me once that all he was trying to do was be a good man…it’ll always amaze me that he didn’t see he was the best.”

You missed the distraught look Bucky shot towards you, the look in his eyes almost heartbroken while you talked fondly about his best friend. The tortured scrunch to his features seemed to melt away at your next words, though, and he held you tighter as you curled into his hold.

“Just like it amazes me that you don’t know how important you are to me too, Buckaroo.”

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (1): Suspension (Fem!Reader x Toji Fushiguro, 5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: One of your favourite students has been suspended for fighting, and Gojo has palmed off the meeting with his guardian to go through all of the paperwork and facts and conditions on you. “Don’t worry,” Gojo says. “It’ll be Megumi’s sister, she always takes care of this kind of stuff!”. Gojo is wrong.

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. dom/sub dynamics, light fearplay and predator/prey elements. piv sex.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

1.

“I’ve got all these other parents to deal with,” Gojo whines at you, pushing the papers into your hands. “And I hate paperwork, and I don’t have time to meet with Megumi’s family today – hell, if it were up to me, the kid wouldn’t even be suspended! Those guys had it coming!”

Gojo is not a very good teacher. Both of you know that – no matter how justified – violence never solves violence. Gojo, you think, would let these kids fight it out in an arena instead of solving things like an adult. You heave a large sigh as you look down at the papers detailing Megumi Fushiguro’s three-day suspension for fighting during school hours.

You’d seen Megumi before he’d gone home. He hadn’t had so much as a scratch on him; his face set in a frown, his arms crossed, his eyes downcast. You’d sighed at him and asked him if he was alright, and he’d shrugged.

He’s not a very talkative boy at the best of times, and you suppose that the suspension and the fight and the mini uproar it had caused in the school aren’t helping be any more verbose. You’d said goodbye to him and said that you hoped he thought about what had transpired today, your heart aching a little bit that you couldn’t be any more help to him.

You’d seen the three boys Megumi had got into a fight with, too. They had not gotten off so scot-free – they were bleeding noses, scraped cheeks, bruised eyes. At the very least, you don’t think any of them will get on Megumi’s wrong side again.

Gojo has to meet with all three of their parents tonight to give them the full story of why their children are so roughed up and what’s being done about it; a position that’s been doled out to him, you’re sure, because Principal Masamichi blames him for the incident and is punishing him. You can’t deny that seeing Gojo actually get punished for something is nice, but--

“Won’t they be mad to see me instead of you?” You ask him, biting your lip. “I mean . . . you’re his teacher. I’m just your aid.”

“Oh,” Gojo’s eyebrows rise behind his glasses. “No, it’ll be Megumi’s sister who’ll come, she’s a sweetheart! She’ll nod at you and say mournfully that she’ll talk to him and you’ll give her the paperwork, and that’s all – job done! Honestly, if I could palm this off on you and talk to Tsumiki instead, I’d do it in a heartbeat--”

“This is your job,” you tell him, exasperated, and he laughs wide and open. You’re not really supposed to get like this with him – if he were any other teacher, you’re sure that the exasperation and sighing and half-snapping you do would have had you thrown out of their class – but Gojo treats your irritation with him as if it’s the funniest thing that has ever happened. “You’re supposed to be good at dealing with this kind of thing!”

He shrugs.

“You’ll be fine!” He tells you, again. “Honestly, this isn’t the first time this has happened with Megumi and it won’t be the last. That kid’s got a right hook that could knock out an elephant!”

You do not ask him how he knows this. Asking too many questions of Gojo is always flirting with danger; you never know when his mouth will flash into a grin and you’ll suddenly be barraged with a flood of words and stories that don’t quite make sense and never seem to have a concrete end. But you can’t resist one last question – just in case it comes up. After all, it seems that Gojo has spoken to Tsumiki enough times for him to at least kind of know her--

“His sister?”

Gojo looks at you, and for a moment the shroud of capricious energy lifts from him, and he seems entirely serious. You’ve noticed this particular change in him only a few times – and often, those times have been about the more difficult backstories of students.

“His father isn’t around very often,” he says, eventually. “He’s some kind of something or other, Megumi never really says, but whatever he does, there’s a lot of travelling involved. Tsumiki’s his older sister – she’s twenty one, and she’s been more of a parent to him than it seems like his dad has.”

No wonder Megumi always seems suspicious and tired of Gojo. Something about his flighty nature probably strokes the back of Megumi’s psyche, where annoyances about an absent father are kept. You sigh, turning away and shaking your head to rid yourself of the idea of psychoanalysing the students.

“Alright,” you say wearily. “I’ll talk to Tsumiki.”

2.

You’re nervous as you set up for the meeting. You know Gojo had said that this would be easy, that Tsumiki was very sweet and would probably apologise to you for Megumi being a problem – but still! This is the first time you’ve ever met any of your students’ guardian figures in any capacity. You feel kind of bad that it had to be for this kind of news, actually – ordinarily, you like Megumi a lot. He’s very intense and serious and clever, and you think that he has a bright future ahead of him when the trials of being a twelve year old boy finally are over – but this meeting isn’t for saying things like that. This meeting is for giving details of the three day suspension that Megumi has gotten for – you check the paperwork again – fighting three boys by himself on one of the sports courts, making them bleed and . . . breaking one of their arms? No wonder Gojo had seemed so miserable at the thought of meeting with the victims’ parents.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, making sure that it still sits as neatly as you’d arranged it that morning. You check the clock to see you still have two minutes before anyone is due – you discreetly check your lipstick in a compact mirror (yesterday you’d had it on your teeth and you hadn’t realised until Mai had pointed it out with a laugh in her voice), smooth out your pencil skirt, tug at your stockings to make sure they’re pulled up and not wrinkling about your ankles . . .

And then, you wait.

The clock is straight across from you, so you’re able to see as Tsumiki is five minutes late, and then ten minutes late, and then fifteen. The tick-tock echoes in the room as your leg bounces against the floor, anxiety making you want to gnaw all of the carefully applied lipstick off of your mouth. From what Gojo had said, this doesn’t sound like Tsumiki at all – you’re just about to give up and pack all of your things away, figuring maybe she’d called into the office to say she couldn’t make it and telling you had been neglected, when the door slams open.

You rush to your feet, your sensible heels clacking on the ground.

“Miss Fushi--”

Your voice peters away.

The person stood in the doorway is, you’re certain, absolutely not Tsumiki Fushiguro.

For one thing, it’s a man. For another thing . . . well. You’re not entirely sure that a man with that expression on his face would ever be described to anyone as a ‘sweetheart’. Your frightened eyes linger on him for another moment, really taking in the broad shoulders and the muscles and the hair falling over his face, the dark, green eyes that are glaring at you like you’ve interrupted something very important. There’s a scar by his mouth that you also do your best not to stare at, just in the same way you avoid staring at how the form-fitting t-shirt he’s wearing clings to a muscled abdomen.

“It’s Mr, actually,” he says, which seems absurd in the face of him, standing there. He raises one eyebrow at you. “You were expecting my daughter, right?”

(You don’t know it, but Toji Fushiguro has gotten a read on you in less than a moment. He’s seen the wide eyes and the pretty mouth and the neatly appointed outfit, the pencil tucked behind your ear, the slightest tremble faced with his imposing presence – the fear as you’d seen the scar and the smoulder and the body. You’re adorable.)

“I . . . uuh--” Your cheeks are hot. You nod, weakly, and he walks into the room proper, the door swinging shut behind him with a deafening click. There’s danger in every one of this man’s movements, like a wolf who has finally cornered a little rabbit. You are feeling inexorably like prey, at this moment in time.

“I was expecting a man,” he says, shrugging. He sits at the chair in front of Gojo’s desk, pulled up just for him. He looks huge in the classroom; his shoulders too wide, his biceps bulging from the sleeve of the shirt. You don’t think this man was intending to be in a school classroom right now. “I guess you’re not Mr Gojo, huh? Gotta say,” he shoots you a grin that’s dangerous, everything about him is threatening. “I much prefer this development.”

“Oh,” you’re blustering, and it’s so cute. You sit back down in the chair with a quiet displacement of air, agitation in your fingers as you rake through the papers on the desk. Said desk is incredibly messy; Toji doesn’t think it’s yours. He ought to feel mad that they’ve palmed him off on some little assistant who’s probably not even fully qualified yet – instead, he’s watching your hands trembling and your teeth nibbling on your pretty mouth. “Y-yes, G-Gojo’s dealing with the parents of the other party--”

“My kid got into a fight, yeah?” He asks. “Decked ‘em pretty good, from what I heard.” You wince at his words, and that’s cute too.

“Megumi’s a good boy,” you say. “He’s just . . . got his own sense of justice, I think.” You look down at the papers, and your eyes seem to focus, back in a more comforting zone. “He’s been suspended for three days, and when he comes back, he’s on probation.”

“What’s that mean for him?” Toji asks, promptly, though something about the way he says it suggests to you he doesn’t really care. There’s a lightness, an airiness in his tone that sets you all off-kilter.

“It just means we’ll probably keep an especial eye on him. He’ll get a report that’ll need signing off on at the end of every period, someone will check up on it--” You see one of Gojo’s scrawled notes in the margin of the paperwork. You wince. “I’ll be in charge of it, actually. Making sure everyone’s happy with his behaviour for a few weeks--”

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

The question makes you jump. You’re like a doe in headlights, looking up at him. You blink slowly.

“I—I don’t think that’s an appropriate question, Mr Fushiguro,” you say, prim. That’s cute, too. He likes breaking prim and proper things like you. “I’m—I’m doing my training. I’m working as an aid here for a year, and then I’ll be qualified to be in charge of my own class.” There’s a hint of pride in your words, there.

“Toji,” he says. “That’s my name. You haven’t gotta call me ‘Mr Fushiguro’. I’m not tryna’ be pushy,” but he’s inched forward. His elbows are resting on Gojo’s desk, in front of you – he rests his chin on his folded hands, sharp eyes regarding you as if you’re something he wants to devour. “Y’just look tense.”

“This is the first time I’ve met a student’s parent,” you admit, though the minute it’s left your mouth you’re regretting it. Like you’re admitting to some kind of weakness. This close to him, you can see there’s a dark red stain on one of his wrists, like dried blood. Your stomach is tying itself in knots. It’s not helping that his forearms are so big, ridged with muscle.

“That so?” His eyes gleam. “What d’ya think of me?”

You don’t actually need to answer him. He can see it in the way your eyes keep nervously skimming over him. The way your lips are shining in the light. The bob of your throat as you swallow.

“Mr Fushiguro--”

“I told you to call me Toji,” his voice is almost mocking. You watch him lean over the table like you’re somewhere far away from the action – watch his hand reach out and cup your face, calloused thumb brushing your cheek, like you’re a ghost in the corner of the room. His palms feel like they’re burning hot. “You’re tremblin’, little lamb.”

You had thought you’d felt like a rabbit – shy, ready to run at any moment. But the moment his hand is on you, you’re docile – too scared to scamper away. You suppose you are like a lamb, staring a wolf straight on in the face, too stupid or too pliant to use your common sense and run.

“I . . . I shouldn’t,” you say, voice trembling just as much as the rest of you. Toji’s smirk hasn’t left his face. You’re saying you shouldn’t, but he just bets if he reached further down and unbuttoned your blouse, your nipples would pebble for him – he just bets there’s a wet stain on your underwear, right now. He can always tell when someone’s turned on by the idea of playing with fire.

“I wouldn’t mind spendin’ a few weeks with you in charge of me,” he muses, and then chuckles humourlessly, correcting himself. “Sorry. Lemme rephrase that. I’d rather be in charge of you, but--”

Oh, he sees that. The little flash in your eyes, an imperceptible contract of your shoulders. If you weren’t behind the desk, he bets he’d have seen your thighs press together too. Girls like you are just so fucking predictable, and he loves it every single time. There’s just something that’s so much fun about breaking them – making them submit, admit that him being so close with the scent of something-that-might-be-death clinging to him turns them on like nothing else. Your attempts at being haughty and polite and proud have just made the stirring between his thighs harder to ignore. You’re such a cute, neat, demure little thing – by the end of this meeting, he’s going to have his way with you, you bet.

“M-Mr Fushiguro,” you say, trying to wrest back control of yourself – honestly, he’s pissed you aren’t listening to him, but the title’s kind of endearing. You’re trying so hard! Pity you’re going to lose all of your manners when you’re bent over this desk with his cock inside you. You haven’t even moved your face away from his hand. “I-I have to give you these papers.”

He stands up, pulling his own touch away from your cheek. Stretches. Your eyes are drawn to the brief expanse of his stomach, just above his trousers – the dark line of hair leading down to . . . Oh, God. You shouldn’t have thought about that. The grin on his face is cocky, and you know that he knows you were looking.

“I’m just gonna throw ‘em in the trash, sweetheart,” he says to you. “Now. Let’s talk about the elephant in the room, yeah?” He steps closer to you. You totter to your feet, half-unsure, half driven by the low ache between your legs and the thrum of desire that’s been reverberating through you since the moment he’d carelessly thrown out how much happier he was to see you than Gojo. You have to tilt your head up a little when he comes closer. You’d thought you realised how massive he was when he’d walked through the door, but that’s nothing compared to how his size seems to dwarf you. Every unkind thought you’ve ever had about your body or your face seems to have gone out of the window as his heated green gaze hungrily drinks you in. You know it’s the stare of some predator who’s going to devour you, and you still feel transformed. Your breath catches in your throat as his hand idly comes to the top of your blouse buttons, a finger brushing the place in your throat where your pulse is beating its unsteady rhythm.

“Whaddya say, little lamb?” He grins down at you. “Gonna let yourself be caught by the big bad wolf?”

You’re supposed to be telling this man about his son’s misbehaviour, giving him all of the paperwork that Gojo had thrust at you, getting him to say he’ll talk to his kid and try and make sure that it won’t happen again. You shouldn’t be tipping your head back further, letting his fingertips lodge dangerously in the hollow of your throat, flirting with the place where your windpipe is. You shouldn’t be breathing out, all of your pretty prissiness and good morals and pride disappearing where you stand in the face of one of your students’ really hot dad.

“Yes,” you breathe.

And Toji wastes no time.

3.

He doesn’t even bother unbuttoning your blouse; just drags his hand down, and the buttons pop off, scattering on the floor. You gasp at the show of strength, and Toji is still grinning, clearly enjoying that you’re admiring him. His hand pulls at the fabric, until your breasts are fair falling out of it, the blouse wrestles off your skin.

“You’re wearin’ something like this at work?” He asks you, giving a tug to the gore of your bra. You hadn’t done enough washing this week, and the one you’re wearing is all filmy white lace. “Almost like you knew I was comin’ huh?” His grin is crooked. You tremble as you reach behind you, undoing the clasp – and for that, you get a murmur of ‘good girl’ that has your knees turning to jelly.

He whistles as the bra drops from you, his gaze admiring. He takes in the spill of your breasts, the little peaks of your nipples. He takes handfuls of them, squeezing them in his big hands, his fingertips digging in so painfully you can imagine that you’ll have bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow. The idea doesn’t disgust you.

He lowers his head to kiss you. He’s not gentle with you for a moment – his teeth immediately nip at your bottom lip, kissing you hungrily like you’re the first taste of sugar for a man who’s lived on nothing but bread for months. His tongue licks at your lips, begging entrance – dancing against your own when you helplessly open those same lips, demanding in the exact same way Toji is.

He pinches your nipple between thumb and forefinger, delighting in how quickly the bud hardens. He rolls it between them, toying with it, enjoying the soft noises you make that get caught in his mouth. If he wasn’t kissing you, he thinks, you’d be bleating like a lamb right now. Huffing and whimpering. When he finally gets his cock in you, he’ll have to remember to clap a hand over your mouth so you don’t attract too much attention.

Your other nipple is given the same treatment, hot lightning bolts of pleasure ricocheting from the touch of Toji’s calloused fingers to the spot between your legs. You’re grateful for how solid Toji is – if he were any less so, you’re sure you’d be buckling over where you stand.

He pulls back with a final, marking nip to your lower lip, almost hard enough to make you bleed. You whine, and a dark chuckle spills out of his lips in response.

“Toji,” you whimper as he pulls away. You miss the feel of his body pressed against yours like a physical ache. His hands encircle your thighs, pushing you up onto the edge of Gojo’s desk, clever fingers already pushing your tight pencil skirt up so it’s bunched around your waist.

He kind of misses ‘Mr Fushiguro’ now it’s gone, but the sight of your stockings digging into your thighs soon chases the thought from his mind. He guesses your skirt is more than long and tight enough to make sure nobody gets a glimpse, but oh . . . that you’d be walking around all day, like that, with nobody to fuck you silly--

He can’t help but let his hands knead the soft skin, the flesh, his thumbs imprinting so hard in the plush that you squirm. He’s pressing your thighs apart, now – revealing the modest underwear, the soaking wet patch where he can see the outline of your plump labia lips.

With your legs spread, he can smell how turned on you are. Oh, yeah – he knows your type, alright.

“Ain’t you cute?” He says, chuckling. “You really want me to do you over this desk?”

“You can’t leave me like this--” Your voice is reedy, breathy, almost petulant – at another time, he’d make you beg for it. He’d take his time over you. But although the idea of being caught fucking the cute little teacher’s aid is briefly appealing, he doesn’t really want to make a whole load of trouble for himself when his cock is practically begging to be sheathed inside your wet holes. “Please--”

It’s the please that does it. It’s always the ‘please’ that does it for Toji. He chuckles, smirks, crooked grin – all of it feels like it’s mixing together in your mind, your throat very dry as nothing seems to matter right now except the fact that your sex is practically pulsing with how empty it is, and you think that the hot hard stiffness pressing against your thighs would really help alleviate some of that.

“Aww,” he says, fiddling with his zip and underwear, grabbing his cock and giving it a cursory pump just so you can admire the sheer size of him. “Don’t worry, little lamb. I’ll give ya what you need.”

He gets what he wants. Your eyes, as big and dark as the eyes of a doe – the soft choke of breath as you get to see the size of it, so big his own fingertips don’t quite meet. It’s the kind of cock that could ruin you for somebody else – and you’ve had sex before, of course, but you’ve never taken anything quite like that--

“That’s cute,” Toji murmurs, pressing forward, nestling his slick cock-head between your soaking wet thighs. “Wish you could have seen what a picture your face made just then. Afraid I’m gonna tear you in two?”

He might – he might, you think. But you pout at him and Toji’s cock throbs, as he glides the slick glans through the mess of your arousal, wetting himself even further. Your breath hitches, your hips doing a cute little jerk as it brushes your swollen clit. He can’t help himself but swirl the head over it some more, making your breath catch and whine, bleating like a little lamb--

He sinks his hips forward, and your fingers flex on the edge of the desk, knuckles white, at the relentless sear of his cock driving you open. You feel so stretched out, and he’s barely a third of the way in – he can’t help but watch your expression. He always likes to see someone the first time they’re impaled on his cock – the glassy eyes, slack jaw, the pleasure-cum-pain in their faces. He wants to take a picture of you and keep it in his wallet so he can pump one out to the sight of you when he’s on business trips and too busy to go out and find himself a hole to fuck.

“How’s that feel?” He asks you, so soft and low that you barely catch it. Another slow inch. He lets you feel every ridge, every vein, every bump of his shaft. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“F-full—” you gasp.

“I bet,” Toji replies – and then, he bottoms out inside you. His eyes look down to where the two of you are joined; the slick fluid leaking out of you, all heat and needy. “You fit me like a glove.”

Your cheeks heat at the compliment, at the lewd way he’s looking at your spread open cunt – the way your hole is fluttering around him, the peeking pearl of your clit. He’s studying you like he wants to learn you by heart.

“Head’s up,” he says. “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You’re about to open your mouth, and ask him what he’s doing right at that moment if he hasn’t started fucking you yet – but then, he’s dragged almost the entire length of his cock out of you in one savage thrust and is immediately spearing it back into you, his pace brutal. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back hitting the solid, flat surface of Gojo’s desk so that you’re flat out with your thighs wrapped around Toji’s hips.

If he weren’t so entranced by the feel of your walls fluttering around him, trying to suck him in further and deeper, so tight that you’re basically a vice, he’d grab you by your hair and force you to stay seated whilst he fucked you. But right now, you feel so good that all he can think about is his own release. The wet sounds of his cock gliding in and out of you, the squelch of your arousal and slick making every pump easier and easier. You feel so good. You’re tighter than he even imagined you could be, so good that he kind of wants to take you home and have you take up permanent residence in his bed.

You’re moaning, your back arching with every one of his thrusts – taking it admirably. There’s pain in your moans, yes – he supposes he could have prepared you better, had you come on his fingers a couple of times, if time were not of the essence – but they’re the pained moans of someone who likes to be hurt a little bit.

With every rock of his cock inside of you, he hits some new spot that you’ve never had stoked before, makes the heat and need inside of you swim just a little bit closer to the forefront. You don’t even notice you’re moaning and whining until a big hand slaps over your mouth, rough, hot palm against your lips, smearing your lipstick.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and stay quiet,” Toji says to you, through those savage thrusts of his cock inside of you. “You don’t want your . . . your fuckin’ . . . anyone walkin’ in on you being railed by your student’s dad, do you?” You shake your head, but he feels the throb of your cunt around his cock, the way your walls contract, and he adds it to the store of things he’s learning about you. Always the quiet ones, right? Always the proper ones who look as though they’ve never even seen a cock--

The feel of him inside you is absolutely dizzying, so much and so full that you can no longer think. His cock batters against a certain place in your channel, a textured wall – and before you know it, everything is going dizzy and black and white like exploding fireworks, your chest bursting into heat, your inner walls getting so tight around Toji as you come that he thinks you’ll be the one to fucking break him.

Oh, you’re adorable, creaming on his cock – the slick gush of your arousal around him, the dreamy cast in your eye, the fact he can feel you drooling against his palm. He increases the speed of his own thrusts, chasing his release through the weak aftershocks and smaller pulses of you around him, through the over-sensitive squirming of your cute little cunt, the fact that tears are pooling in your eyes at how much everything is suddenly feeling--

He groans and the hand still clinging to your thigh is suddenly pressing so hard you think he’ll snap your bone, ragged breath;

“Fu—fuuuck, sweetheart, you’re gonna take it all, that’s right, good girl--” in between belaboured, ragged pumps, his cock twitching as he manages to pull out at the last moment and his release spills all over your thighs, luridly glistening wet in the overhead fluorescent lights.

That’s another moment he’d take a picture of, if he could.

He’s not the kind of man who waits around. He gives himself ten seconds, to catch his breath, to admire your plush thighs painted with his come, before he’s tucking himself back into his trousers and zipping zippers and doing buttons. He shoves his hands into his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a second – double checking he’s left nothing of his in the classroom.

Yep. All clear.

He turns to leave, air of cocky confidence back – you only just see the shifting muscles in his back as he turns to go, leaving you where you are. You’re lucky he’s so tall, or you’d probably barely have seen him in front of the door frame (you didn’t even lock the door, anyone could have walked in at any time! You don’t even want to know what Gojo would say if he’d walked in to his aid being fucked like a slut across his desk).

“W-wait,” you say, weakly, still sprawled over the desk with his come cooling on your thighs. You manage to prop yourself up on your elbows, but your entire body feels like it’s just taken a battering. He takes a look back at you from the door, dragging a big hand through his hair, his crooked grin still on his face. You look so pretty like that – all fucked out and messy, the shine taken off of you. “T-the paperwork--”

You’re not sure where said paperwork is. Underneath you, maybe? You hope it didn’t get soaked.

“Told ya’,” he says, dismissively. “I’m just gonna throw it in the trash. Thanks for the fun, sweetheart. See y’around, huh? I should do stuff for the kid’s academic career more often.”

The door slams shut behind him.