#someone asks me a short and normal question and i reply with. whatever the fuck this is

[shakingparadigm]

fav alnst round so far? (mines is round 6 because i love pain and sorry to break it to you but I literally had no reaction when best boy ivan died.hes dead guys accept it.)

Favorite ALNST round... I'd have to say ROUND 5. The concept of the whole thing is just so spectacular not only in set design but in character dynamics as well. The despair and mockery that lines the whole thing is fantastic.

I particularly adore the way this round further connects the concept of death with the color white. The stage which Luka and Mizi perform on is fully white in color because it's built from the bones of an ancient creature, something of a memorial site. In certain shots, the spine of this creature is very clear. The whole area is ethereal and invokes not only a sense of reverence, but unease, too. It's haunting, almost hollow, and just like its origin, lifeless.

The moon that shines behind Luka is almost as big and bright as a white dwarf, a dying star that has exhausted itself of life.

And of course, the association with death is further emphasized once images of Sua appear.

There's something to be said about the fact that this stage is from the bones of an ancient creature, one that was respected enough for its bones to be repurposed in its honor. A deep reverence, worship, even.

It's painfully fitting for Luka to dance upon the remains of a creature so revered while he toys with Sua's image. A form of mockery, of disrespect, especially to the one who worshipped her. In both the literal and metaphorical sense, he tramples over dead gods.

It's important to note that in this round there are two performers but three participants: Mizi, Luka, and Sua. The feeling of death is something that permeates throughout the entire round because everyone involved has been forced to face it. This shared trait manifests itself as their most striking visual aspect: their white attire.

With the insight gained from Luka's relationship with Heperu, it's safe to say that Luka has experienced the feeling of death firsthand. He has quite literally died and then come back to life.

There's the factor of his purple fingertips, a result of his weak physical condition that keeps him on the precipice of life and death. Combined with his extremely pale complexion, his imperturbable disposition and obssession with heartbeats, Luka seems like a body on its way to a corpse, desperately clinging onto his last hopes of life. Staving off the coldness of death for as long as possible and monitoring his own body so that demise is confined to just the tips of his fingers.

Sua's connection to death is obvious. She has died, she is death.

A point of interest, however, is the fact that while everyone is dressed in white, only Luka and Sua share the colors of white and black. They both have these colors in their design, but in opposite places. The black of Sua's design lies on top of her white, while vice-versa for Luka as his lies at the bottom. It works exceptionally well with their state of their characters. Sua as the dead that crosses into the living, and Luka as the living that toes the line of death.

As someone who watched her god die in front of her own eyes, Mizi dons a gown of pure white just like the others. The difference is her second color, a light pink layer resting atop her dress.

Pink has associations with innocence and childishness, and in its more washed out and subdued state (light pink = pink mixed with white, innocence tainted by death) it's a perfect fit for the circumstances.

It's only during her aggressive outburst, when Mizi has death directly pointed at her that the pink layer begins to rip. Completely shedding her innocence, giving way to complete white. Dressing her for death.

Luckily, Hyuna arrives just in time (clad in black, life) to save her.

ROUND 5 has always been a complete masterpiece to me, and the more I think about it the better it gets. A dying man trying to stay alive, a white-clad widow and the haunting apparition of her dead god all performing this sick dance of death upon the bones of a creature who was exploited for spectacle and performance.

[kteezy997]

the director’s daughter-part three//t.c.

Part one and two are in my masterlist! (under ‘more series’)

Warnings: smut, nicknames, teasing, calling someone a ‘pervert’, some fluff, cursing, spanking, hair pulling, cum shot, f receiving oral sex

In the days following their tryst, y/n, didn���t speak to Timothée, or hardly even look at him. He grew concerned, thinking she was ashamed that they had hooked up. It bothered him more and more each day.

Finally, he was able to catch her alone on the Fourth of July. Everyone else in the house was busy, and y/n was getting ready to go to a late night party. The bathroom door was halfway open, he could see that she was in a pair of ripped up denim shorts and a tight red tank top with spaghetti straps that clung beautifully onto her breasts. She looked like she had stepped right out of his wet dream. He watched her for only a minute as she did her make up.

“You’re such a pervert. Do people know that about you?” she remarked, glaring over at him.

He ignored her comment, and joined her in the bathroom. “Look, I’m sorry if you regret what happened. We can just forget about it if you want to. It just kinda sucks that you’ve been avoiding me.”

She listened to him, then returned her attention to the mirror, fixing her lipstick with her fingers, “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

Timothée gave her a dubious look in the mirror, “You say ‘good morning’ to literally everyone else but me.”

Y/n smirked, “You’re upset because I don’t say ‘good morning’ to you?”

“I mean that was just an example, but you just haven’t been giving me the same attention as the others in the house ever since we had sex.”

She turned to him, “So, you want my special attention?” She grinned.

“I mean, not special, just normal ya know? The same as everyone else. Besides, we wouldn’t want anyone to be suspicious that something happened between us, right?”

“Well, Timothée, have you considered that I wasn’t talking to you because you’re just bad in bed? I mean, why would you wanna talk to someone after bad sex?”

Timothée just smiled at the snide remark, shaking his head, “Bad in bed huh? I don’t know, it seemed like you were having a good time to me. I believe what you said was ‘Oh Timothée! Harder! Fuck me, please!’” he chuckled.

“Oh whatever, I’m sure a lot of girls have reacted that way with you. Doesn’t mean that they weren’t faking it.”

“Faking it?” Now he was offended, “No one has ever faked it with me. Including you. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

Y/n raised her eyebrows, “Is that so?”

“Baby, I’m sure all you’ve had before me were some small dick energy, frat boy types that don’t know what the hell they’re doing. So yes, that’s so.”

“Hmm.” She cocked her head to the side, eyeing Timothée up and down. “Can you prove it? That you’re the best?”

“Fuck yeah I can. Anytime, anywhere, Princess.” his confidence was palpable.

“Ugh, I hate when you call me that.” she scoffed, but grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him into a deep kiss. She moaned in his mouth, and the tension between them was finally resolved.

Timothée in turn smashed his lips against hers eagerly, “Yeah?” he asked against her lips, “What would you like to be called?” he pressed his lips to hers.

She actually blushed and thought about his question seriously for a second, “I don’t know. Maybe something sweet like ‘kitten’ or ‘bunny’?” She blinked, looking up at him, awaiting his reply.

He smiled softly, “Okay, when we’re alone you can be my little bunny.”

Y/n hummed contentedly as Timothée kissed her again, holding her body close.

His hands ran down her back, eventually cupping her ass.

She giggled against his mouth as his hand squeezed her butt. “Come on,” she grabbed his hand, “let’s go to my room.”

She started to lead him out of the bathroom, but he pulled her the other way, “No, no, my room. Less likely for your mom to come looking for you there.”

Y/n nodded, “Ooh, good point.”

………

He pushed her onto the bed, making her yelp softly in excitement. Digging his fingers into the sides of her shorts, he yanked them down her legs, leaving her only in her panties. He gave her ass a slap, producing a whimper from her mouth.

“Timmy.” she said, breathless.

He grinned as he unbuttoned his pants. The first time she had called him by his nickname rather than his full name. Their situation-ship felt more intimate between them now. She looked so damn good to him at this moment. Truthfully, he wanted to be selfish and devour her. “Be a good little bunny.” he dared, moving closer.

She felt his presence just above her as she lay flat on her stomach on his bed. “Such a cute bunny right now.” he whispered, his breath hitting her hair. He pressed a firm kiss to her scalp, which she leaned in to. She didn’t care if she came off too smitten.

“Now I’m gonna fuck you like rabbit during mating season.” he warned her, freeing his stiff cock from his boxers, letting the tip plop onto her ass.

She gasped, feeling chills go up her body as he let his tip glide between her wet folds. “Okay, just make sure you’re done before I miss the fireworks.” she teased.

“Oh, fuck the fireworks.” he grumbled, taking her by the hips and pushing his cock inside of her.

“Ah-h, yes!” she cooed.

Timmy started pumping his hips fast, slamming his hips into her ass with loud sounds. He thrusted hard, grunting lightly, giving her butt a smack here and there. "Fuck, I've missed this pussy ever since I left it." he admitted in a breathy tone.

"Oh, my god," Y/n purred, taking his pounding thrusts, "you fuck me so good." She grabbed the comforter on the bed, trying to relieve the tension in her.

"Yeah? Say I'm the best." Timmy demanded, putting his hand in her hair, pulling her up to be flush with his body.

"You are! You're the best, Timmy." She shuddered as his cock rocked deeper into her. "Ahhh!"

"Good." he said, releasing the grip he had on her hair. "But not too loud, Bunny. The others could hear us." With that, he held her waist, and rammed into her, keeping a steady rhythm.

Y/n cried out strings of curse words as quietly as she could muster, but the pleasure was too much. Especially since he started to rub her clit as well as pump his thick cock in and out of her pussy.

They were both huffing, trying to catch their breaths.

She held onto Timmy's forearm as his paced slowed. She saw the sun setting outside the window, but could not care less about meeting her friends to catch the fireworks.

He held her tight with one arm tucked around the front of her body, his fingers lazily massaging between her slick folds. His hips started to stir and he said, "I'm gonna come."

"Oh, not inside me, I'm not on birth control!" she exhaled, keeping her voice soft.

In one motion, he pulled his cock out of her pussy, turned her over onto her back, letting her watch him pump his hand along his cock. Her fluids on his length acted as lube for his palm. His face scrunched up and he closed his eyes, groaning as he came in little creamy streams on her stomach.

He finished and took a moment to catch his breath. He grinned at her, shaking his head. "Still bad in bed?"

"No, I just said all of that hoping you might want me more. Same reason I was avoiding you.” she giggled.

"Hm." he hummed, a silly smile on his face. He leaned down over her body to kiss her.

Y/n moaned lightly into his mouth, feeling like she was riding a high. She put her hand on his face, slowly moving her fingers into his hair as they kissed. She caressed the ends of his curls.

Timmy let out a little moan as well as he pulled away from her kiss. His lips traveled down her body, slowly, sensually, all the way to her thighs. He flicked his green eyes up at her as she continued to lay on her back. He left little kisses on her inner thighs. His eyes gazed upon her still glistening wet core. "Your pussy is so pretty, Bunny."

He leaned in further between her legs, cupping each of her thighs in his hands.

As his tongue swirled and savored her pussy, Y/n noticed that it was now totally dark outside. She nestled into the bed, and slipped her fingers into Timmy's fluffy hair, feeling how damp his head was with sweat. She could hear the pops and snaps of fireworks in the distance.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[lithium80writer]

The Fence (A Billy Hargrove Short Story)

Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three

Chapter four: Your Billy

⚠️This is a darker story. ⚠️ Billy Hargrove short story. This story will focus a lot on Billy's abuse from his father and Josephine's mental and sexual abuse from her stepfather. Can these two lost souls find sanctuary in each other? Trigger warnings ⚠️: Descriptions of sexual assault in first person and domestic abuse. Language. Thoughts of self harm and suicide. Disturbing topics. Smut. ⚠️ This story is not for everyone but more an emotional release for me. Thank you for reading. 🖤 Upside down doesn't exist. Max is not Billy's sister. It's just him and Neil.

*********

Billy's POV

I walk outside and I see a little envelope sticking through the fence. My heart speeds up and I walk a little faster. I quickly tear it open and see her delicate handwriting. Cursive. Shit.

Too fancy for me but I slide down my back against the fence and squint to read her small handwriting.

**** Dear Billy,

I was happy to get your letter. I'm sorry for disappearing. I am okay. Is your eye better? I hope so. Your letter caught me by surprise. It made me feel happy. I don't feel that a lot. So, thank you. Write back soon.

Your friend from the other side of the fence,

Josephine.

**** Josephine. It's even prettier. I made her feel happy. Billy Hargrove made someone happy. And someone made Billy Hargrove feel happy. What the fuck is going on?

There's that care again. Jo, asking about my eye. Maybe I'm not delusional.

I stand quickly and dust the dirt off of my jeans. I head inside and straight to my room trying to avoid him at all costs. I light a cigarette as I put pen to paper. And there it began. Our friendship.  My first real friendship. Little by little we learned about each other.

She asked me questions about me. My favorite things. How I was doing. My life in general. And for some reason, I told her. I was honest. But it started to feel fake. I wasn't being fake but it didn't sound like Billy Hargrove.

Not everyone's preconceived notions about me anyways. She wouldn't like the real me.

The hardest letter I ever wrote to Jo:

**** I need you to know, Josephine. I'm not a good person. I'm angry. I fight a lot. I drink a lot. I cuss too much and I smoke a pack a day.. at least. I'm so fucking angry. But I don't feel that way when I write to you. I feel calm. I feel at peace. But I don't want you to have some fake image of me built up in your head. I'm not good, Jo. I'm not a good person.

Billy

**** I waited for her reply anxiously. I thought maybe she wasn't going to reply. Every day I checked the spot. It was empty. I fucked up. I pushed her away. I was too honest.

Then finally, I saw it. Placed in between the wooden posts. I lit a cigarette and prepared for the worst. I held the envelope in my hand for what felt like hours. Fucking open it, Billy.

**** My dear Billy,

Anger doesn't make you a bad person. You have every right to be angry. You make me feel good. You make me feel happy. You brighten my life more than anyone ever has. Could a bad person do that? I don't believe so. Everybody has their faults. Please don't be so hard on yourself. I like you. Even the rough parts. I have bad parts too.

Your Jo (I hope that's okay.) ****

I was overwhelmed with a sense of relief. She didn't hate me. I didn't push her away. And I was completely honest with her.

My Jo. It's more than okay, baby.

I began to open up to Josephine. All the crazy thoughts I have, I let them pour out to her. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I can't see her. It's not face to face. Normally I would have been embarrassed. Or thought I was being a pussy. But it felt good. And she wasn't judging me.

Billy the fucking poet. But it felt different when I wrote to her. I was able to slow down my thoughts, not just spit out whatever smartass remark was always on my tongue. I could tell her what I was really feeling. On my bad days, I wrote a little more. Sometimes on my worst days, I didn't write at all.

Her letters were scarce. Only coming twice a week. But her words were always beautiful. Well spoken and kind. Sometimes I'd have three written by the time I got hers.When I asked her why she avoided the question. Come on, Josephine. Let me in.

I opened up to her and she opened up to me, a little at a time. Though I know she's still hiding things.

She doesn't like to talk about her stepdad much. But there was one letter that stood out. Two words. The Monster.

What has he done to my Jo?

*****

Josephine's POV

Letter after letter. Thought after thought. Feeling after feeling. I poured my heart out to the boy on the other side of the fence. I didn't tell him everything but I told him when I was having extra bad days.

He told me when he was feeling down. He told me he wasn't good. I knew that wasn't true. I wanted to help him see that he was good.

Billy became a safe place for me to land. I didn't have to talk to my tree as much, though I still did. I told her all about Billy.

In one letter he called me sweetheart. I felt a flutter in my heart that I'd never experienced. I wanted to be his Jo. And I told him that. He responded in the next letter with "your Billy." I cried reading it.

In one of his letters he mentioned wanting to help me. I want that more than anything but there's nothing he can do. I want to see him. I tell him that regularly even though I know I can't.

Today I sat against my tree and opened Romeo and Juliet. I've read it now three times cover to cover. This time with Billy's letter was a small flower pressed flat in the pages. It was beautiful. I wonder if he thinks I'm beautiful.

I think he is. I didn't get to see him for long but his face is burned into my brain. I picture him sometimes at night when I close my eyes. Lately I've been having other feelings about him. Feelings that make me ashamed. Feelings that make me feel guilty.

I want to ask him if he's ever had sex. If it felt good. It's supposed to, right? I had a dream about Billy. I woke up feeling tingly. I'm confused. And scared. And curious. Maybe one day I'll ask him.

I leave the flower in its place, not wanting to destroy it. I decide I'll keep it forever. He ends up sending more. Little ones here and there. I have quite the collection of them now. They're my favorite thing.

*******

A few weeks later, I got another letter. Billy says he has an idea. It was dangerous. But maybe it could work.

**** You won't be able to see me but you can hear me. And I can hear you. What do you think, Jo?

Your Billy ****

I think yes. I think my heart might explode. I think I'd give anything to see those eyes again but for now.. hearing him will have to suffice.

**** My dear Billy,

Anything to hear your voice.

Love, your Josephine ****

Masterlist 🖤

[femmesweat]

I have this fantasy that I’d love to play out with someone I trust. It could be twisted into a dom or a sub thing, easily.

[This treads in the area of light homophobic bullying, so obviously avoid if you think you won’t enjoy that]

I think it’s about my own enjoyment of the performance of femininity, my own latent masculinity, and my teenage smug awareness but sometimes anxiety about the fact that I was that lesbian that some girls complained about the existence of. I was the girl averting my eyes in the changing rooms out of shame. I was the girl with hairy legs in PE who would eventually ‘turn lesbo’.

We’d both be in school uniforms. I’m in a skirt rolled up too high, eye liner, loose tie, straight hair, very 2010s. I’m sitting down, texting friends, who knows. Meanwhile her hair is short, she’s in trousers, loose tie, she doesn’t look like a normal girl. She walks past me (I don’t know where we are. School somewhere. Details unimportant). I eye her up all of a sudden. I was never the mean, popular girl in school, but it’s fun to play a character.

‘Hey,’ I say, with that cruel teenage friendliness. She doesn’t turn around. ‘Hey!’ I say again. She looks at me, confused or maybe annoyed.

‘Hey, come here a sec.’ I smile sweetly. ‘I just want to ask you something.’

She approaches, cautiously. Maybe she’s shy, or just likes to avoid girls like me.

‘So like…’ I begin slowly, ‘why do you like, dress like that?’

She stares at me blankly. Is she embarrassed or irritated? ‘Like what,’ she says flatly.

‘You know, like that.’ I raise my eyebrows. ‘Like a boy.’

‘I don’t dress like a boy,’ she replies too quickly.

I smile. ‘I mean, ok. But you don’t dress like a girl. You never wear makeup, you never wear a skirt, you have this, like, boy haircut,’ I observe plainly. ‘So like, I’m just wondering why.’

‘I don’t know’, she says. She’s squirming now. No one has ever pointed these things out to her this explicitly. No one has ever said it out loud – her difference.

‘And like, you don’t even shave. Everybody on the netball team has noticed it.’ Hopefully she goes bright red when I ask this.

Maybe she turns to leave at this point, so I try to grab her attention again.

‘Hey! Hey, don’t go. I’m just asking, I’m just like, making conversation.’ I sound sweet again. Maybe I can somehow get her to sit next to me. Stay with me for longer. I’ve been noticing her staring at me, anyways. I know she likes to look at me when she thinks I don’t notice. I know that I’m pretty, and that I just need to ask in the right tone of voice to make her stay, and let me needle her a little longer.

Eventually, I ask the question that she dreads.

‘So… do you even like boys?'

She hesitates.

‘Or do you like girls?’

I wait, then I go in for the kill.

‘It’s ok if you do. Like, nobody cares anyways. And like,’ I raise my eyebrows again, ‘people like, talk, you know? People talk about you. Everybody knows you’re a lesbian. I literally see you looking at me sometimes. Why is that? Do you think I’m pretty? Do you have crush on me? Oh my god, look at you blushing, you literally have a crush on me. Oh my god, are you embarrassed? Does that mean I’m right? What do you think about when you look at me? Do you think about kissing me? Do you picture me naked? Do you think about having sex with me? How do lesbians even have sex anyways? Would you want to fuck me the way boys fuck me? How would you even do that? Is this embarrassing you?’

And so on. Until either

a. I can convince her to do whatever I want, since she has such a big pathetic lesbo crush on me and is like, literally obsessed with me and would lick the ground I was walking on if it meant I’d let her taste my cunt for even 5 seconds, or

b. She snaps and grabs me by the hair and tells me that I’m the one obsessed with her, I’m obviously a huge fucking dyke and she’s going to prove it by making me beg for her to fuck me.

[altaniadventures]

Do you wanna?

A short story set during Shadowbringers. This would be before the Exarch reveals himself. Spoilers for Shadowbringers. Altani and the Exarch have a chat after all the Scions have left for bed.

AltaniWOLxGrahatia

-------

"So, did you want to fuck?"

The Exarch sputtered, not able to answer Altani. She'd waited till the last of the scions left and shut the door. After a few beats alone, she'd asked that.

His knuckles were turning white from his grip on his staff. After trying to collect his composure, he eloquently replied, "What?"

"I've seen you staring at me," she replied. "I'm not offended. You get real close to me sometimes, and then you back away. I can't see your face due to your hood, but I know I was right." She grinned at him, showing off her sharp teeth. "You wouldn't be so embarrassed otherwise."

The Exarch cleared his throat, grateful that the hood would obscure the flush he felt rising up his neck. "Perhaps I am simply surprised at such a forthright request, and unsure why you would be asking me that question. Why would you want to? I am a stranger to you."

Altani sat down on the floor, her back against the wall. She patted the ground. Seeing the Exarch's hesitation, she patted the ground again, more insistently this time. Finally, he sat down next to her. He bowed his head, careful to ensure she wouldn't see despite the proximity. "Can I ask you why?"

She drew her knees up and rested her arms on top of them. The brash warrior in front of him seemed to shift. He saw the weariness in her movements, the tension in her shoulders. Her smile felt heavy. The feral fire that he associated with her seemed to have dimmed. What happened to his warrior of light?

"When I look at you, you seem as lonely as I feel," she said softly.

The Exarch turned to look at her, surprised once again.

Altani smiled. "I know. I'm surrounded by Scions every moment of every day. When it's not them, it's just normal people begging for my help. I'm never alone." Her smile started to fade into a bitter frown. "But that's it, isn't it? I'm always alone. No one else can do it. No one else can stand where I stand. I stand alone between whatever worlds-ending destruction and everyone else. They try to help me, but they can't."

She sighed deeply. "I guess it's because you're technically a stranger that I'm telling you this. You're like me. You're here in this horrible situation, trying to save the world. You remind me of someone else. I suppose that's why I trust you, despite Yshtola and Alphinaud begging me to be cautious," she added, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't know you were hurting so badly," the Exxarch said quietly.

"Stop that," she chided. "I asked because this makes me feel less alone. I know we want to save everyone, and damn it all, we're going to try. However, I know that despite my efforts, sometimes-" She looked at him, and leaned in to bump his shoulder. "You've studied me, right? My exploits? My adventures?"

He wasn't sure where this was going. "Yes?"

She continued. "Well, What would you say my first personal loss was?"

Puzzled, he answered, "Perhaps the battle against Ifrit? The tempered there? Or maybe the raiding of Vesper Bay."

She chuckled darkly. "That's a good guess, Exarch, but you forget that I am a child of the Steppe. We were raised for war. Comrades falling in battle is my life. It is sad, it is tragic. I take it personally, but it is not personal." Altani stretched her arms and leaned her back fully against the wall. "I don't tell the scions this, because I know it makes me somewhat of a monster. That's why I'm so good at war. Losing makes me angry. Losing soldiers is upsetting because that means we're not winning. I was very angry after losing the sands, but I can't remember any of their faces anymore," she admitted. "It feels sad in the way you hear about an earthquake in a distant land. Tragic, but far away. Guess again."

The Exarch thought for a moment. "If not that, then perhaps the battle of the vault? The death of Sir Haurchefant Greystone."

Altani was quiet. "That's an even better guess, and a loss that still grieves me. I have many regrets about Haurchefant, but no. He wasn't the first. The first was a man I met when I was hired to assist with the excavation of the Crystal Tower."

He cleared his throat. "Ah, I don't recall reading about that. Do you mind telling me?"

She smiled. "Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one who remembers him. It would probably piss him off, the little braggart.

The Exarch coughed, indignant. "Altani, that seems unkind for a man you claim to be a personal loss," he reprimanded.

"My taste in men leaves much to be desired," she said with a grin before continuing. "His name was G'raha Tia. I was still making a name for myself then. Cid was trying to get into this strange tower close to Mor Dhona. This mi'quote I had never met before basically dared me to go get the components needed to open the gates. I didn't know it at first, but he was working with the Students of Baldesion. He gave them a silly name after some dead guy, NOAH. We worked together for a few months trying to get to the top."

Altani laughed at the memories. "We used to get on each other's nerves badly! He wanted to be an adventurer, and I used to tease him about being a nerd. He was a researcher, but was always telling me that he was going to surpass me in strength. He never won a single arm-wrestling match with me at camp. He'd get so red trying. It matched his hair," she said softly. "He wanted so bad to one-up me I felt. All he wanted was to be like me, and I was jealous of him."

He blinked. "You were jealous of him?"

"Yes. He was so smart. He would tell me all about the history of the towers, and how the magical devices worked. I could barely understand some of it." She brushed some of her braids behind her ear sheepishly. "I was hired to be muscle. I'm always the brute strength. You know, I didn't know how to read Eorzean when I joined the Scions. It made me feel so stupid. Here was this little annoying genius following me around all day, telling me that he was going to be better than me at the one thing I was good at." Altani sighed. "Anyone can learn to fight. But not everyone is smart enough to do what he was doing." She leaned against the Exarch, and this time he did not lean away. "But over time, I came to understand him a little more. We were sitting at the campfire, bickering about something. Cid was ignoring us. The whole camp did. Over the weeks, they'd gotten used to it. I don't even remember what we were fighting about. What I remember is falling asleep. I woke up first, and he'd fallen over into my lap. I can remember his red hair falling back from his face, and he looked so peaceful. His ears slightly twitching from a dream. It was at that moment I knew that I loved him."

He waited for her to continue, but Altani was quietly lost in her thoughts. Her tail lazily swishing was his only clue that she was still awake. "Altani?" She sighed. "He woke up and we didn't talk about it. That day we made it to the top." Altani closed her eyes. "He had to seal the tower to protect everyone. He sealed himself inside the tower. I couldn't save him. Do you know he had the balls to smile at me when he closed the doors? He fucking smiled at me. The doors shut and I stayed out there banging on them for 3 days, sobbing. Cid and Nero had to drag me away." Altani leaned her head on the Exarch's shoulder. She could feel him stiffen, then slowly relax. "As you know, that was just the first. There was Haurcefant after that. Then it seemed like my friends were dying left and right. Moenbryda, Papalymo, Ysayle. I'm always alone. I'm afraid that I will die alone. I just don't want to feel alone, even if it is true. When I'm close to you, I feel like I'm not alone." She cleared her throat. "So, I'm asking you again. Do you want to fuck? I can wear a blindfold if that will make you more comfortable." He knew that in his heart of hearts, this was a terrible idea. He shouldn't do this. He was lying to her, getting close to her despite Urianger's warnings against it. She would be furious if she knew. Then again, if all went according to plan, she would never know. She thought him a stranger, and yet she still bared her heart to him. She was telling him things he knew she would never speak of to the rest of the Scions. He was her only confidant in a strange land that he'd brought her to. Would it be wrong to give her the only thing she'd ever asked of him? The Exarch stood up. Altani stood to leave as well, but felt a hand catch hers as she turned. "I'm just as lonely as you say," he said quietly. "If you'll have me." He pulled off one of the smaller sashes off his robe and handed it to her.

She smiled softly and tied it around her eyes. "Lead the way, handsome." She felt warm hands gently lead her to the bedroom. The soft click of the Exarch's bedroom door shut behind her and she was seated at the edge of a bed. He sat down next to her.

G'raha let his hood slip as he let his fingers brush against her cheek. "You don't have to be alone. I'll be with you for as long as you need me, Altani," he whispered.

She kissed him, her fingers tangling up in his long hair. For a moment, she was taken back to a campfire. She smiled. "Thank you."

[northropi]

So I'm going to be using this more, for real this time.

In an effort to Holy Fucking Shit They're Considering Cisgender A Slur Now What The Fuck, I am soft-leaving Twitter. For real now. What do I mean? I will not post anything "directly."

I'll still like, follow, reply, retweet, whatever, but any media or in-depth text (so like also media) will no longer be natively placed on Twitter.

From now on anything I put on Twitter will be links to other sites.

It also seems inevitable at this point that I will eventually have to leave Twitter entirely because harassment is becoming more frequent.

While I'm not big enough to be readily targeted, bigots are trawling the trending tab to find anyone who comments on a recurring topic and start gnawing them.

I've never been a full "no ethical consumption under capitalism" person, but up until this, I could at least blow Elon's bigotry off as "oh, so we happen to have a bigoted owner on this site, well not gonna pay his ass so I'm fine in the short-term." But this policy, which seems to have gone through, is probably the first time something actively bigoted and not just generic right-lib "hey we should let bigots talk because censorship bad" has been written into the ToS.

To strongarm Cis out of our vocabulary leaves us with no words to describe Cis people exclusively (which is itself a pretty damning reason why it's not a fucking slur, but I don't think at this point that anyone who says they think it is is doing so in good faith). We have to use the word bigots want us to use to describe cis people.

Normal.

And every time we speak it, they'll lick their slimy lips and relish in the implication that, by exclusion, we have admitted we are not.

BlueSky likely will mark the end of Twitter being an even neutral space for vulnerable people in terms of community, though maybe I'm talking out my ass there because I hear some shit about BlueSky too- so sub BlueSky for whatever more solid Twitter-style multipurpose high-throughput platform follows and actually is good if I have to eat those words, I guess.

It, or the hypothetical next thing, will bleed Twitter of users who are, you know, not fucking horrible, and in turn, create a selective pressure that turns Twitter into a decidedly bigot-friendly site. This is the cost of being run by someone who thinks "free speech" should mean taking the wrong answer to the paradox of tolerance, and an idol to rightoids and conspiracy theorists who need that "gifted" Christ-figure and a supposed force of opposition to exist, even if they have to rip their brain in two to characterize that opposition as the establishment while, being conservatives, every single stance they take is pro-establishment.

You people ruined schizoposting, you know that?

Newgrounds will be for images with occasional text updates, this for long but relatively rough posts, Wix for more encyclopedia-style content as I intend to use it in a wiki-like capacity with secondary blog purposes (why not use wiki for that, you ask? because it looked like a lot to learn up front and there seemed to be like twelve different wiki formats, Wordpress/Wix was just easier but might change later).

I'll also aim for some filler on Youtube in the form of just video game clips so I can feed the algorithm a bit and try to be more active in exploiting what free time I have to actually use my mic for voiced stuff including, possibly, short streams, though that begs the question of where I'll be doing those.

As for Tumblr, a friend offered me to help me learn its syntax or whatever you'd even call it in this case to get it formatted. I wouldn't count on it replacing Newgrounds yet and that may be my primary art site from here on out (I've expressed concern about their harsh policy against WIPs and certain modeling programs that might include my VRoid work, but the latter would obviously be fine here and the former can still be posted in a publicly accessible capacity to NG, just not promoted in the art portal- hopefully I get "scouted" there sooner than later but nothing is a dealbreaker yet). The problem ofc is because, well... First off, NSFW. "Oh but you can post-" yes. I know. You can do some lewd stuff and fetish content fine as long as it doesn't hit a particular bar of "non-artistic" nudity. However, a lot of my stuff is raunchy fucking hypercock bellybulging cum cum madness. I can't just fly under that restriction and not need to eventually find another outlet.

Second, I really gotta handle these fucking bots. Not sure how many I have still as I imagine a lot are getting cleaned out by mods, but it seems follower notifs on this site have been going into junk for a while due to sheer frequency.

I'm also thinking about if I have it in me to forgive DeviantArt for their AI debacle, but the site's stance on it is concerning and I fear that there's at best going to be a ton of it flooding the site, which, while acceptable if they hold their promise of being able to opt out future works (remember, the opt-out doesn't apply to any works put up before- you can't un-train a neural network, so fuck that sideways), will be frustrating to interact with. I'm also going to look into ArtStation a bit, I recall them doing something dubious but I'm not sure of the status of it since. I actually already have an account there, for Project G.L.U.T.T.'s demo mostly...

[erwinsvow]

My day was pretty good but college is kicking my ass so badly rn it’s embarrassing…

On another note, just wanted to let you know how I found your blog! It was through another blog (can’t remember which one sorry) recommending their favourite obx writers and that’s a statement I absolutely agree with🫶 You’ve developed a consistent characterization of Rafe that I believe is recognizable and belongs to your blog (idk if that makes sense) I think it’s extremely natural to compare yourself to others but please remember that you’re doing an amazing job!!

Sorry for the word vomit but you’re just so kind every time you interact with anyone and your writing is just SO good I wanted you to know how I feel

Also was curious to know how you feel about dark Rafe because I can’t stop thinking about ghostface (but he could also be sweet in a more twisted and obsessive rafe way)

-💓

omg i remember college like it was yesterday and it kicked my ass too😭😭😭 you got this bae!! it'll be over before you know it but stay focused on the grind 🩵

also stopppp that is so sweet. you are so nice because im so new to writing for obx! n that is so generous of you to say because i really love writing for rafe and bouncing btwn mean n sweet rafe... he's such a tough cookie to write but that makes it so fun! you are so so so nice im gonna cry <3 will remember this everytime i feel iffy :( also i always try to reply to every anon how i would want someone to reply to mine!!!! i remember so vividly being in someones inbox and pouring out ideas or love for like a short reply lol which would hurt my feelings even tho it is not that serious at all haha

but its srs to me now <3 i love replying to ppl on here especially sweet angels like u !!! 💓

ur fucking cooking... you may or may not have seen that my entire blog used to scream themed because its fully one of my favorite movie series EVER<3 ghostface!rafe is SOOOOO yummy. tw murder and a whole bunch of psycho stuff lol

he's soooooo sick n fucking twisted!!!! if he was a true ghostface, he'd be insanely protective over you, telling you it's dangerous to go out alone at night, that you shouldn't even stay at home alone if he's not spending the night. his lil killing spree would start with people trying to break the two of you up, people he knows are actively trying to get into your ear and tell you that rafe is dangerous, that's he's bad for you.

n you defend rafe with all your heart!! your boyfriend is so caring, doesn't even allow you to drive home alone, chauffeurs you around in his car, drops whatever he's doing to come get you if you call.

a couple times he's a lil late.. shows up to your door all sweaty, looking tired n messy, and you ask where he's been all night. doesn't really give you a real answer, just tells you he was with the boys. (he was gutting this boy from some party the other night that wouldn't leave you alone). you hear the news the next day, and when people in town start questioning some of the young men, you valiantly protect rafe, saying he was with you all night (which he was... kind of..) and the way he beams at you when you do this guarantees that you would never voice your suspicions no matter how prominent they become.

ur big friend group tries to figure out what's going on... pretending to be detectives, one of them even questions if youre the killer, saying your sweet personality is the best alibi n that no one would suspect a thing. you laugh, then rafe laughs, so everyone laughs, but the friend who said it is next on his list.

consoles you when ur crying, sick n tired of feeling so scared all the time, wanting life to go back to normal! you love spending time with rafe but everything is getting to be a little bit... overwhelming. you're never alone anymore, never have time or the chance to just be with your friends. it's a lil suffocating but then someone else turns up dead and you retreat into safety, into what you think can protect you: rafe.

the big reveal is the make or break. in the real world youd run screaming for your life. but in shea's world ur just as crazy as he is, still believe he did everything for the right reason, brainwashed enough by him and his charm and his love for you that is so apparent he would kill for you and you let it sway you.

that was a lil dark even for me, but canon rafe is literally a killer n i just be ignoring that part like damn kill me too!! i love u!! biggest fan i'd be ur alibi!!

this getting hella long but rafe with ghostface tendencies is also.... so hot....just lots of overprotectiveness and stalking and if he's part of a duo, just trying to keep you out of everything and protected. doesn't want you anywhere near this stuff, freaks out if you end up hurt or realizing what's going on. but he knows you won't snitch, won't leave or even try to run. he's got you wrapped around his finger <3

and yes he fucks you with the mask on. sneaks into your house while ur leaving him a cute msg saying goodnight. fucks you all crazy and half way through you realize it's rafe. you don't stop tho n beg him to keep going <3

was this too much? maybe. do i care because this is my blog? yes i do care a little. don't want you to judge me LOL

hope this was fun for u to read bc it was fun for me to think!!!!

come again soon!! <3

[negative-speedforce]

Prompt 29: "Will it be okay?" / "I'm not gonna lie, I have no idea."

With: My OCs Vanessa and Victorie

Something felt... wrong.

Vanessa didn't feel like herself. Her body felt... off, but her vision was too cloudy and her mind too dazed to understand what was happening. She was still in so much pain from whatever that monster had done to her, but she had no idea how she had escaped from the lab.

Vanessa stumbled through the small grove she had woken up in, larger than normal strides sending her body careening into the trees around her. Vanessa jumped, scrambling out of the way as the tree she had crashed into splintered and toppled.

What had happened to her?

She heard voices, distant but still present. They were familiar, and though Vanessa couldn't quite place who they were in her head, she knew they were friendly.

"I'm here! Somebody help me!" Vanessa tried to yell, but all that came from her lips was a horrifying animalistic screech, her words completely lost.

"The fuck is that?" Vanessa heard vaguely.

"Hell if I know."

Suddenly, a shot rang out. Vanessa felt the bullet pierce the outer edge of her flesh, before ricocheting off. Nope. Definitely not friendly.

She screeched, dashing towards her attackers. Maybe, she could get them to back off by doing the one thing they didn't expect. They screamed in terror, firing blindly, each of their admittedly expert shots bouncing harmlessly off Vanessa's body.

"Wait! Stop!" Someone stepped in between Vanessa and the group, and she skid to a halt, to avoid him being trampled. "It's Vanessa! Don't shoot!"

A woman approached, hair wrapped in a sheer blue scarf. "I don't know if you've gone blind, Matt, but that's not Vanessa."

Vanessa wanted to object, because yes, it was her, but she hesitated, as her previous efforts to speak had all been for naught.

Wait- MATT???

Vanessa's vision was still hazy, but she could barely smell something- Matt's cologne. She leaned in, sniffing his chest (was Matt always so short?) trying to identify whether this was her friend or not. The cologne matched well enough, and from what she could see, the young man in the pink hoodie looked like her friend.

Vanessa cocked her head, a low trill escaping from her throat. The woman in the blue scarf (Sohelia maybe?) approached her, holding one hand out like she was trying to tame a horse.

"Nessa?" Sohelia whispered. "Is that really you?" Vanessa nodded.

Come here. Vanessa heard in her mind. Let me help you. My name is Victorie. I can help you communicate.

Vanessa looked over at the source of the voice, a girl barely older than her, with long, white-blonde hair, dressed in a long black cloak.

What's happening to me?

I don't know. The girl replied. I've never seen anything like this.

Please, ask Sohelia. I can't talk right now, and honestly, I'm really scared. Vanessa pleaded. Is it going to be okay?

Victorie repeated Vanessa's question. Sohelia hesitated. "I'm not gonna lie, I have no idea. I'm sorry, Nessa. I don't know how to fix this."

depressing dialogue prompts #s 3, 7, 8, 11, 13, 15, 16, 22, & 29 :)

Prompt 22: "I always die in my dreams. Every time."

With: My OCs Siv and Ember

"You woke up screaming again." Ember frowned, sitting next to Siv. "Are you okay? I know you've been sleeping in the back room since you lost your place, and I don't mind. I'm just worried about you."

Siv sighed, curling their legs closer to their chest. "It happens a lot. I'll be out of your hair as soon as I find a new place, don't worry."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Ember scooted closer. "Is it okay if I touch you?"

Siv nodded. "I guess so."

Ember wrapped their arm around Siv's shoulder. "I'm worried about you, Sivonne. Are you safe right now?"

"For now, yeah." Siv shrugged. "I have nightmares. Night terrors, really, almost every night. It's not a big deal. Everyone gets nightmares."

"Not the kind that wake you up screaming." Ember cocked her head. "You can talk to me, if you want. Or, whatever. You can even tell me to back off, and I won't be offended."

"It's fine." Siv shook their head. "I always die in my dreams. Every time. It's been a pattern for years, ever since I was eighteen, but there's nothing I can do about it. I've tried melatonin, I've tried valerian, I've tried pills, but nothing seems to help. Some nights, it's murder, some nights, I'm ripped from existence, and some nights..." Siv took a deep breath. "Some nights, it's my fault."

"That sounds hard." Ember replied. "You probably haven't been sleeping well, then, have you?"

"No, but I'm used to it." Siv shrugged. "I can run on a lot less sleep than most people."

"If you say so." Ember was still concerned, but chose to let the subject go.

"Yeah, I do." Siv stood. "Now, I'm gonna get back to work. This place isn't going to be keeping rogue teenagers out by itself."

[miekasa]

bad romance

+ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

+ genres and warnings: friends with benefits au, friends to lovers au (well i guess that’s open for interpretation lmao), modern au—college au?, explicit smut, mentioned/implied virginity

+ summary: friends with benefits with your best friend since middle school is probably a bad idea. friends with benefits with your best friend since middle school who you’ve also been in love with for the past seven years—all for the purpose of her gaining ‘experience’ so she’s not nervous to do it with some other guy she has a crush on—is probably a really bad idea. levi ackerman is not known to make great decisions.

+ word count: 3.5k

+ notes: truth be told, i don’t even know if i like this; i took this from an outline/draft of a series i’d planned but know i’ll never complete. it’s kind of unedited too heh, also if you’re a minor pls do not interact 

Levi doesn’t think anything of it when he finds you on his doorstep on a rainy Saturday evening. It’s very much like you to show up unannounced and attempt to drag him into whatever activity you want to do that day. He’s fairly certain that Hange picked that up from you. Someone should tell her that it doesn’t work so well unless it’s you tugging on his arm sleeve and interrupting his otherwise peaceful evening. 

So, for a while, everything is normal. You make fun of him for his use of, admittedly overpriced, organic butter when he toasts you a bagel; he makes jabs at you shuffling around his apartment like a semi-wet chihuahua, and all is right with the world.

Until it’s not. Because half-way into whatever stand-up comedy Netflix special you’d persuaded him into watching with you, Levi’s had enough of your nervous ticking. He doesn’t know if you think that he wouldn’t notice, but he does. And he knows it’s not the result of you still being wet or cold from the rain, seeing as you’ve long since dried off and warmed up. 

You’re focused on the show (ironically, focused to a point of distraction), you’ve been twiddling your fingers since it started, and you’ve been fidgety since you stepped foot into his house. Quite frankly, he finds it insulting that you think he wouldn’t know something’s up by now.

So, he bends his knee, turns his body towards yours, lifts his elbow to rest atop the edge of the soft, and presses his cheek into his palm: “Alright, spit it out.”

“Huh?—What do you mean?” You look at him with wide, startled eyes. He looks back at you with unamused, expecting ones.

You crack a nervous smile, attempting to laugh off his command as incredulous, but instead, your voice comes out in what sounds like a pathetic attempt to cover up a lie—probably because it is, “What? Can’t I spend sometime with my favorite, surly psychology student?”

Levi scoffs at your batting eyelashes. The look he throws you seems to do the trick as you drop your facade with a sigh and shift yourself to face him on the couch too, your bent knees almost touching.

“Alright, fine, you got me,” you sigh, hands resting in your lap, “You, um... you know how you said you’d help me with, like, uh... sex and stuff?”

Levi raises an eyebrow. Of course he does. He watches as your eyes dart around the room waiting for his response. It’s cute as heck, and if the topic of conversation at hand weren’t about to get so compromising, he’d have probably teased you about it.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well… okay, so, you remember Jean, right? The guy I told you about?”

Levi hums. Yeah, he remembers Jean, but only because you can’t seem to shutup about him, not because he’s particularly memorable otherwise. He seems to be kind of a prick and a huge idiot, if you asked Levi; but, that’s kind of his default impression of most people. 

“Jean and I hung out yesterday, and it was normal, you know? We just talked and ordered food and watched a movie,” you rub your palms along the fabric of your yoga pants—another nervous tick he’s been observing, “I don’t know if it was a date or not, because he didn’t say it was, and I don’t want to assume, but Marco keeps saying it was, and that Jean wants to actually ask me out.”

Levi blinks. “And?”

“And if he does ask me out—or even if he just… I don’t know, wants to try something the next time we hang out, I don’t want to look like a complete idiot!”

He refrains from letting a noticeable grimace take over his features; and washes away the unsettling feeling in his stomach with a nonchalant comment, “I doubt he’ll try anything on your first date.”

“But what if it’s not a date! People hang out just to hook up all the time.”

“I thought you wanted to date him?” Levi questions, but his it comes out as more of a deadpan statement.

“I do,” you answer, your response a little delayed and drawn out, “But, I wouldn’t mind just sleeping with him, either.”

“Bold statement from someone who’s never slept with anyone before.”

“Have I told you today that you’re an asshole?” you roll your eyes at him, “Come on, Levi, you know what it’s like to just want someone, but not want them, don’t you? You’ve had one night stands before.”

That’s true, Levi knows it, but it’s different. He wasn’t actively seeking advice from his friends about how to pursue and potentially please his one night stands because none of that mattered—well, the pleasing part, probably, but not the pursuit, or the feelings that came with it. Besides, Levi hasn’t felt the desire for any of that in a long time.

“That’s not the same,” he responds, trying to dismiss the muddy feelings crawling up his throat, “Look, if your Jean guy gets horny when you’re hanging out, just make out with him—make him jizz his pants or something.”

“That’s terrible advice,” you frown, “Plus, he’s probably done that with a million other girls.”

“Probably. Sex tends to repeat a few basic actions here and there.”

“For a psychology student, you sure are a terrible makeshift therapist, do you know that?”

“That’s not even the kind of psychology I study, never mind that I never asked to be your therapist.”

Levi takes great amusement in your huffing and the frustrated pout settling into your features, though he does his best to not let his own smile shine through. It’s probably futile; you can probably see through his facade, anyways.

“I just don’t want to bore him, Levi.”

Any trace of his smile vanishes as those words leave your mouth. Levi doesn’t retain much about this Jean guy you keep going on about, and he doesn’t care to in all honesty—but maybe if he did, he could understand why you’re so hellbent on pleasing the kid.

Levi doesn’t like it, not one single bit. His own feelings for you aside, he doesn’t like how Jean has managed to worm his way into your head and make you think that he’s deserving of any kind of affection from you, whether it be platonic, romantic, or sexual. Because he isn’t; Levi might not know him, but he knows that much. 

Still, he sympathizes with you. He understands the pressure of navigating dating and hookup culture, especially in a university setting; never mind the additional expectations set on you as a girl. It’s shitty, all of it; the stupid feelings, the sense of uncertainty, the dumb-ass college pricks. You shouldn’t have to deal with any of that. 

“You won’t,” is Levi’s simpler response, “Just don’t crush his dick in the process.”

“I wouldn’t do that, fuck you.”

“I’m just saying, you’ve never been the most coordinated person in the world,” he taunts, “If that’s what you came here today to ask me to help you with, it’s fine.”

“Really?—I mean, okay, I know we said that’s okay, and stuff, but I didn’t know if—well I don’t know what’s on the table or not? I do want to do that with you, but I also wanted to know if we could do… more? But I didn’t want to ask for too much and make you uncomfortable! Do we need a lesson-plan of sorts, because I can make—”

“You’re doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Stalling,” Levi tells you, “You know, how when you get all nervous and ramble, then run out of breath or things to say, then get super quiet, and let the conversation die and be awkward again.”

You throw daggers his way with your eyes, and Levi has the audacity to smirk. “Forgive me, it’s not every day I ask my best friend if I can suck his dick for practice.”

“You can,” Levi replies, a little too nonchalant for the situation at hand, “If you want. I don’t mind. As for a lesson plan, that’s weird as shit, so don’t do that.”

“Really? I can?” you question again, an ironic child-like glimmer of joy in your eyes.

Levi chuckles lowly at your enthusiasm—your appreciation is so genuine, he finds it nothing short of adorable. And oddly enough, he’s a little turned on by it, too.

“Yeah,” he nods his head shallowly, “You can.”

You still have that gleam in your eyes, but Levi can feel the hesitation creeping up on you, and offers his guidance before he loses you to a shell of yourself. He shifts over to you just a bit, loosely holding your right wrist in his grip; holding eye-contact, he carefully pulls you up to stand in front of him.

“You can start,” he says, slowly tugging on your wrist, “By getting on your knees and taking off my pants.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, you’re already kneeling in front of him, and the sight is already enough to have Levi semi-hard in his pants; an almost embarrassed flush washing over his body as he comes to terms with the fact that he’s thought about this visual more times than he cares to ever admit.

You fumble with the zipper of his jeans, pulling them, along with his boxers to pool around his ankles. Your actions are careful and calculated, but you seem comfortable—maybe not with your skills, but with Levi.

His eyes stay glued on you, when you finally hold his length with a single hand, the other resting hot on his thigh. He leans over again, this time to rest a comforting hand on the back of your neck, eager to wash away any remains of your nervous resolve.

“Start slow,” he instructs, feeling your thumb swipe along the head, “Just move your hand up and down a bit, like—ah, yeah, like that.”

You seem follow his words carefully, focusing on the way his dick jerks in your hand. Levi observes you carefully and mentally notes that while he’d have liked it, not making out with you before this was probably the right call—he’d probably have creamed his jeans before this could have begun.

“You can grip it harder,” he tells you. You listen, applying slightly more pressure to your grasp; and it makes Levi groan, short, but strangled, above you.

“Okay?” you question, the genuine concern in your voice enough to make Levi’s gaze soften.

“Yeah, that’s—you’re doing good,” he says, rubbing his thumb against the nape of your neck habitually, “Twist your hand a little when you go up, you can—fuck, okay, yeah, that, like that.”

You snap your head up to look at him when he lets a moan slip through; nothing but pure enthusiasm and satisfaction dancing in your eyes. Levi grits his teeth when you do it again, your thumb sliding over the tip when you reach the top of his dick, and, Christ, you’ve got to stop looking at him like that.

You work your way into a steady rhythm, letting Levi’s moans guide your movements. You feel him harden to full length under your touch; and when he does, you move your hand faster, twisting your wrist around the length and squeezing just a pinch harder at the tip, without instruction.

He watches through lidded eyes, using his thumb to press lightly into the back of your neck. You move your free hand from his thighs, eager to add it to the mix, but Levi freezes.

“Nuh uh,” he shakes his head.

It prompts you to stop your actions, tilt your head and look up at him, and Levi doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so sinful. Your complete focus on him, neck craned obediently, eyes twinkling under your lashes; your position makes him want to kiss you or choke you or something in between.

“What—did I do something wrong?” you ask with wide and innocent eyes that make Levi feel bad for worrying you, yet send an erotic pulse throughout his body.

“Not at all,” he reassures you, fingers treading into the hair at your nape.

He’s setting himself up for failure, and he knows it, too—because, really, who agrees to teach a friend how to suck dick? Having you on your knees in front him, crane into his touch, and keen to all his desires, does nothing to mask the painful fire in the pit of his stomach.

It’s stupid to be this hungry, this possessive over you when he knows you come to him in hopes to learning how to please another man. But one, precious thought is enough to cloud over all of that, enough to put that sadistic smirk back on his face.

“You said you wanted to give me a blowjob, right?” he questions, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth at the shallow nod of your head, “Okay. Open your mouth for me, yeah?”

He barely pushes the tip past your lips when your head dips forward, tongue peeking out to lick the very top. Levi sucks in sharp air between his teeth, relaxing into the couch when your head bobs further, enclosing the tip of his dick in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice hoarse when his hardened cock rests against the velvet wet of your tongue, “That’s it—just keep going, like that.”

He watches intensely as your head bobs onto him. It’s hot and wet and so much more than he’d imagined it would be; and he’s not too shy to admit he’s imagined this with you. He moves his hand to brush away the flyaways of your hair, smoothing them back and tangling his fingers at the back of your head. He carefully guides your movements.

It’s slow and steady, and normally, it’d take him a while to cum like this, but with the visual of having you on your knees for him, Levi can feel a faint warmth of his orgasm already beginning to bubble inside of him.

“This is okay, right?” you pull back, a thin line of spit trailing from your mouth.

“Yes, yes,” he answers immediately, unaware of his tightening grasp on your hair.

With a shy smile, you continue, taking more of him this time and carefully gauging his reactions. You move your head further down, testing your own limits, until you feel like you’re choking. You pull back again, with an embarrassed cough.

“Don’t push yourself,” he says softly, rubbing soothing circles into your neck with his fingers, “Guys can’t actually tell the difference between a regular blowjob and being deep throated, no need to choke yourself.”

“Wait, really?” you ask, resting you bum against your heels.

“You seem so surprised.”

“That’s just so… disappointing,” you crinkle your nose, “Men and porn make deep-throating seem like the end all be all of giving head.”

Levi chuckles in genuine amusement, “Well, it’s not, trust me. If any guy insists on being deep-throated just to cum, he’s a fucking liar. He’s getting off on the submission, not the actual feeling.”

“The submission?”

“Getting someone to be willing to listen to them, telling them what to do, how to please them,” he shrugs, “Makes you feel like you’re in control.”

“And that… that works?”

“Yeah,” Levi says, “But, judging by the tone of your voice, and how willing you were to suck my dick three seconds ago, I’d say the idea of being dominant doesn’t really appeal to you.”

You scrunch your nose again, “Does it appeal to you?”

Levi pauses, thinking over his answer, before giving you a simple, “Yeah. Most of the time.”

“Oh,” you hum, “I… I don’t think I’d like that.  I think I’d rather be told what to do, seeing as I don’t really know what I’m doing, anyways.”

“Ironic, considering you’ve never once listened anything I tell you do.”

“I was listening when you told me how to suck your dick,” you correct him, “You seemed to enjoy that.”

Levi pauses with a raised eyebrow. You don’t seem to back down, that matter-of-fact smirk on your face still mocking him. He leans over slowly, using his right hand to guide your head closer to him, and uses his left hand to grab your jaw between his fingers.

“You can be such a fucking brat, you know that,” he all but whispers, pursing your lips together in his hold, “Since you like listening to me so much, then shut up, and we can finish what you started.”

You blink, staring at him with a wide-eyed expression. He’s right that under any other circumstance you’d probably run your mouth off about him telling you what to do. But something about the way he knows what he wants and tells how he wants it makes you listen without an argument.

You nod, slowly wrapping your lips around the tip again, and bobbing along his length. Levi’s breath hitches when you hollow your cheeks slightly, a rough hand pressing down on the back of your neck.

“You’re really—god, okay, you’re good at this, you know,” Levi praises you, letting his right hand resume its position at the back of your neck.

If you had any doubts before about being submissive, the look on Levi’s face seemed to have wiped them away. Watching him throw his head back, his fingers gripping at your nape, his cock in your mouth—pleasing him seemed to be enough to please you, too.

“I wanna make you cum, Levi,” you voice your thoughts, letting a hand lazily jerk him off in the mean time, “Tell me what I have to do to make you cum.”

“If you keep going, I’ll cum,” he answers too quickly, a groan slipping through his words, “Trust me.”

“Come on, Levi,” you push, rolling your thumb over the slit of his dick. It makes him inhale sharply; you’re getting a little too good at that; at all of this. “Can—I mean, do you wanna cum in my mouth?”

“Shit, shit. Don’t say shit like that,” he curses, blunt nails raking and scraping at your scalp, “You don’t have to—I can just—”

“I want you to,” you tell him earnestly, “Please?”

Fuck, he was pretty fucking certain he’d told you to stop saying shit like that. Levi bites the inside of his cheek, paces himself; uses both of his hands to hold your head gently, while you use yours to wrap around his cock.

He grunts with a shake, and rolls his hips up, pushing himself further into your mouth, but not so much as to hurt you. It’s soon after that hot strophes of cum wet your tongue, and Levi lets you lazily jerk him off until you’ve milked his orgasm.

The room is silent save for his low moans and the squeaking of his thighs against the leather couch. When he’s finished, he slouches back, looking at you through hooded eyes, sweaty and panting, when you close your mouth and swallow.

You use your fingers to collect any remaining cum from his softening cock, and hum contented as you put your fingers in your mouth. Levi locks eyes with you again, cheeks flushed as you pull your digits out of your mouth, and he has to grip at his own thigh to gain the self-control to not get hard again.

You’re going to be the fucking death of him some day.

He shakes his head when you move backwards with a cute smile and pulls his boxers up, then his pants as best his can, not bothering to zip them up. When he’s done, you stand to your feet then straddle him on the couch, laughing lowly at his post-orgasm haze.

He doesn’t think twice about the way your hands clasp at the back of his neck, or the way his find their way to rest on your hips. You grab ahold of his jaw with both hands, holding his face in place. He thinks you’re going to lean in, but you don’t; just stay like that, your eyes roaming his glassy eyes.

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at me all day?” he questions, lips pulled into a knowing grin.

“Can I?” your question makes him frown in confusion, “Dunno, I heard some guys don’t like that after getting head.”

“Bunch a fuckin pussies,” he grumbles, leaning forward to close the gap between your mouths. He can feel you smile into it, and mimics your grin when you begin to press short, repeated kisses against his lips.

“You’re the best, you know that?”

He laughs when you continue to press quick kisses on his lips. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

You kiss him on the cheek, wet and dramatic. “Love you, Levi.”

Your face is right in front of his, but he averts his gaze, a different kind go warmth spreading throughout his chest when you flash a smile at him. He lets you kiss him again, longer this time, but still slow and sweet. He likes the feeling of you resting against him, affection lingering on your tongue when you kiss him.

It’s dangerous, but he likes the way you spark a fire in him. Sweet or sinful, it makes him feel boneless, wanted, loved.

Levi leans forward, rubbing his hands up your sides, and captures your lips in another languid kiss before pulling away to peck the corner of your mouth. “Love you, too.”

And he means it of course, but if Levi thought he had it bad before, he’s in deep shit now.

[9tzuyu]

who you are

note: mostly made this for my own comfort, but i do hope it helps and/or comforts any fellow lesbians :]. i normally wouldn’t specify sexualities on any characters because obviously everyones going to feel differently about different characters, but like i said this started off for my own comfort bcs i was hashtag goin through it.

prompt: basically just reader struggling to accept themselves as a lesbian. sorry non lesbians :(

warnings: heavy heavy heavy on internalized lesbophobia. talks about comphet (trying to force oneself to like men) and wanting to be ‘normal’

thank u ally for proofreading <3

not tagging anyone just because i don’t want to trigger :[

. . .

you were wrestling with something, natasha could tell that much. your eyebrows were drawn together, eyes lost in a gaze. it wasn’t until the third time tony called your name when you snapped out of it.

“sorry,” you mumbled.

“well are you going to answer the question?”

natasha noted the tapping of your foot, knuckles cracking beneath the table. it was obvious you weren’t in the right state of mind to be answering any kind of question. foolishly, no one else picked up on that except for the redhead.

“what was the question?”

tony sighed, his patience growing thinner by the second.

“i asked if your report was done. it was supposed to be handed in three days ago, remember?”

your foot tapped faster.

“yeah- yeah, i’m almost finished.”

it wasn’t like you to be so late on things like this, you were usually on top of everything.

“you told me you would have it ready by today. this is the fourth time this month that you’ve done this. you’re dragging your ass and the rest of us are getting pretty tired of it.” a collective agreement could be heard from the team. all eyes were on you waiting for a reply.

if you hadn’t felt anxious before, you most definitely did now.

“it won’t happen again.” tony blew off your statement and rolled his eyes. you shifted uncomfortably, nauseous from all the negative attention.

you couldn’t help but wonder if they knew. maybe that’s why they were being so short. it made sense after all.

natasha tried making her way towards you, but she was stopped by steve’s hand on her shoulder. you were well past gone by the time she managed to scramble away from him.

your back pressed flatly against the wall, tears steadily falling down your face. hatred was all you felt. hatred towards yourself. 

why couldn’t you be like the rest of them? why didn’t you belong? 

whywhywhywhywhywhy

granted, you knew there was absolutely nothing wrong with being gay. that was never the issue. the issue was the fact that it was yourself, that there was no possibility for you to ever be attracted to men. 

you were sure it would be a phase, that it would pass, that you would forget about it and never think about it again. you tried to go on dates, tried to form a relationship, tried to enjoy having sex with them. none of it worked, no matter how much you forced yourself to believe it would. 

all you could think about was how sick and disgusting you felt. and the shit representation didn’t help your case at all. the media hardly ever portrayed a good, well-rounded lesbian character that wasn’t problematic, over-sexualized or dead. 

the media only reiterated the fact that you were supposed to want men. you were supposed to find the right guy and fall in love with him, call him your husband and start a family. 

a knock on your door pulled you away from your thoughts. you shuffled your way back to your feet, drying your eyes for good measurement. 

natasha stood patiently, eyes drilled on your doorknob. if it were up to her she’d be picking your lock, but she knew that would be crossing a boundary. she went to knock again when your door swung open. 

“hi nat.”

“hey,” her voice was soft. “you’ve been crying...” she pressed her hand against your face, thumb rubbing the top of your cheekbone. 

you shrugged. it wasn’t like you could deny her, your red eyes had already given away the truth. “yeah.” 

she hummed, “may i come in?”

you hesitantly moved out of the way to let her through, cursing at yourself for finding her so attractive. 

“you know you can talk to me, you always do. why haven’t you said anything?” natasha moved to sit on the edge of your bed. “you’ve grown quiet these past few days, it’s not like you.”

“i’m just tired, worn out from work i suppose.”

she nodded, though she knew better than to believe such a lie. natasha could always tell when you were lying, something you both hated and loved at the same time. 

you sat next to her after a friendly tap on the bed. her gaze made you feel like a little kid in trouble. it was as if she already knew and was prepared to say the worse.

“i don’t believe you.” 

“well, i don’t know what you want me to tell you, nat.”

“how about the truth?” you scoffed purely out of defense. “and what good would that do?” 

“it might relieve whatever you’ve got on your heart.” you met natasha’s eyes and your lip immediately began to quiver.

“i’m afraid you won’t be able to look at me the same.” 

she softened, taking your hand in hers. “there’s nothing in the world that would change the way i see you.”

“you say that now, nat, but-”

“i wouldn’t say it if i didn’t mean it.” 

you thought about it further. natasha had never been one to judge someone based on the things they’ve been through, the things they’ve done or the things that make them who they are. she saw people the way they were, nothing more, nothing less. 

but what if she didn’t like you or see you the way you were? you weren’t sure you could handle the aftermath if that were to be the case. it was bad enough you struggled to accept yourself, natasha’s disapproval would only break you. 

“i’m a lesbian.” a lump in your throat began to form and you found yourself crying once more. “i tried so hard, i tried everything i could think of, but i can’t, i don’t like men.”

you coughed, choking on your words. 

“i don’t understand, nat! i don’t understand why i can’t be normal. why can’t i do it? if i just liked men i would be okay, i would be fine, i would be fucking accepted.” you paused for a breath of air. “i just want to be normal.” 

natasha was taken back by your confession. it was nothing near what she thought it would be. she expected you to tell her you’d been stressed or that you were scared for the next mission. 

“i’m sorry, i-”

the spy quickly cupped your face, tilting your chin upwards as a hint to meet her eyes again.

“look at me, c’mon, hey. you have nothing to be sorry for, don’t ever think that you do. i love you for who you are. there’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian. you’re normal, you’re who you are, who you’re supposed to be. you are real. i promise you are.” 

without thinking you leaned into natasha, clinging on to her for dear life. her arms found their way around your body, hands rubbing your back up and down. 

“you should be proud to be who you are, not ashamed. and if you’re not proud of yourself then please know that i am. i am so, so, incredibly proud of you, sweetheart.” she finger brushed your hair as you continued to cry. “shhh, you’re alright baby. i’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this alone.”

“it’s okay nat.” she gave your body a small squeeze, frowning at your response. “you shouldn’t have to feel like you need to force yourself to be someone or something you’re not. you don’t deserve to struggle so much for your own acceptance as a lesbian.” 

you nodded, though she could tell you weren’t fully convinced. “the only opinions you should care about are your own and the people you love and cherish. i know that’s easier said than done, but it’s true. besides, what you told me just gives me something more to love about you.” natasha finished off with a delicate kiss to your forehead. 

“this means a lot to me, nat. thank you, for everything really.” 

“oh sweetheart i should be thanking you for trusting me with such an important part of you are.” you shied away, a growing smile forming on your face as you leaned into her shoulder.

natahsa smirked, clearly aware of the effect she had on you. “who knew you could be so cute?” 

“nattttt.” 

she rose her hands up in surrender, “alright, alright. i’ll stop on one condition.” 

“what’s that?” you mumbled. 

“would you let me take you out for dinner tonight? i’ll show you just how beautiful it is to be with a woman.” 

“yeah, yes- yes please, that’s fine.” natasha could’ve sworn she heard your heartbeat quicken and she had to refrain from letting out a small laugh at your flustered state. 

“we need to clear that little mind of yours. i’ll be back here at seven on the dot, okay?” a pat on the leg caught your senses as you watched her stand. the last thing natasha heard was the soft “okay” fall from your lips as she walked out the door.

you’d never been happier to be a lesbian in your life by the end of the night. 

[hitnran]

STRESSED (gender neutral! reader)

what they do when you’re stressed

includes: izana, kakucho, ran, rindou, shion, mucho, sanzu, hanma

note: i miss tenjiku

— IZANA KUROKAWA

If you’re stressed out and want Izana to help you out, or at least notice that you’re feeling off, it’s going to be a little bit difficult.

You’d either have to be so on edge where you either blow up or give him the silent treatment where you just want to be alone. In that case, Izana would be very confused. He’d question why you’re acting so weird towards him, not even picking up the possibility that something was bothering you.

He’ll most likely leave you alone for a bit to cool off or until you become yourself again. If he were still curious as to what was up with your attitude earlier, he’d bring it up.

“Why were you ignoring me earlier?” Izana questioned. There was no build up to the question nor hesitation behind asking - he was charismatic enough to be the leader of a gang after all.

You felt a little bad. It was nothing he knew about, yet you took your stress out on him without telling him what was going on. You went on, answering his question, and telling him how stressed out you’ve been lately.

“Well, tell me next time,” Izana sighed, shaking his head. He really wish you would’ve let him know what was going on earlier. He thought so much time was wasted of you ignoring him when it could’ve been so much easier if you had just told him you were stressed.

“Hey,” Izana called out to you.

You turn your head in his direction and a hand was placed against your cheek. Izana doesn’t often show his affection, but when he does, he does it in the most intimate moments to let you know how much he loves you.

He peppers your lips with kisses, pulling you into his chest and softening his voice, “Don’t stress over it so much; you’re just wasting your time.”

— KAKUCHO HITTO

If you’re stressed, Kakucho’s going to immediately know. It’s apart of his character to pick up on the behaviors of those who he is nearby. If you’re feeling off, he’s going to try his best to help you through it.

Kakucho would firstly make sure you’re comfortable. He’d lay you down, make sure you’ve eaten first, and massage your muscles of any tension. He’d then slowly ease into asking you if anything had happened.

You tell him how stressed you’ve been with things occurring in your life whether it be major or minor or both. He listens into every word, nodding and speaking here and there to show that he is attentive. When you’re done with your venting, Kakucho would surprisingly give you good advice to help you through it.

If it’s a situation that he can’t completely speak on or help you with, he still wants you to know that he is there for you. There’s no reason for him to apologize, but he does it anyway because he feels such empathy for you and doesn’t want his lover to be so upset.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, love,” He’ll say, his eyes evidently filled with worry.

Kakucho would pull you in closer, rubbing your back and asking you if there was anything else he could give you.

“Just hold me,” You murmured into his arms.

“I planned to do that all along,” His soft chuckle was already enough to boost your mood.

— RAN HAITANI

It is quite easy for Ran to tell when you are stressed as well. It may be an older sibling instinct, but he picks up on small things especially behavioral.

Just in case it might just be him being paranoid though, he’ll also ease into it. Maybe he’ll joke around and tease you a little bit before confirming that something was up.

“Babe,” He calls out to you.

You silently hum as a response, not giving him the proper attention he wanted. In that case, Ran will just throw himself onto you, locking you in his arms until you tell him what’s wrong. Sometimes it gives you a headache, especially if you just wanna be alone. Usually Ran would give you space if you wanted it, but only if you tell him first.

“What’s wrong?” Ran asks you, running a hand down your back to soothe you.

You tell him how you have been stressed and he takes in all the information. In the end, he knows there isn’t much he can do about it himself, so the best thing Ran will do is just get your mind off of it.

He’ll ask if you want to go outside, maybe just for a ride on his bike or to be treated with your favorite dessert. If staying in is something you’d prefer, he’d run you a bath and pamper you, clearing his entire day just to spend with you.

— RINDOU HAITANI

A lot like Izana, Rindou’s not going to pick up that easy on you being stressed. He just takes it as you being slightly annoyed by inconveniences in your life; which for him, happens a lot, but you aren’t him.

He’ll only pick up on it if you obviously show that you’re stressed whether it be raising your voice, crying, or wanting to be alone. But prior to it, he won’t really approach the situation very well.

“What is up with you?” Rindou raised an eyebrow, wondering why you were acting so off. “You’re being so bothersome right now.”

Rindou is very blunt, and sometimes, he doesn’t think about what he says before saying it. You know this, but with your emotions all over the place, you couldn’t help but cry in front of him.

His knees will lock up in place and he’ll start sweating. It’s not often you cry, so when you do, he genuinely doesn’t know what to do. Rindou just panics and he drops his ‘cool act,’ putting his hands all over you and sitting you down to calm you down.

“Shit,” Rindou panics. He pulls you in for a hug, chanting words of how he’s sorry. “I’m sorry, baby. Did something happen? Did I make it worse?”

You calm yourself down, catching your breath before speaking. When he hears how you’ve been feeling lately, he feels so guilty for not picking up on it earlier.

He’ll lay you down, softening his touch and his voice, and just allow you to talk it out until the conversation heads into another direction and you two are either talking about some silly topic or have fallen asleep.

— SHION MADARAME

Shion is exactly the kind of guy who is ‘asshole to the world but not to his S/O.’ He switches up and makes a complete 180 around you.

He truly cannot believe that he has someone like you in his life and the last thing he wants to do is make a mistake. Sometimes, Shion is a little too on edge and cautious. Even if nothing is wrong, he’ll still ask things like ‘am I doing okay?’ or ‘how are you feeling?’ He just wants you happy.

But when you’re irritated about whatever it is going on in your life, Shion starts panicking on how to approach the situation. He’ll start losing it even more if you begin to cry.

“Ah?” Shion’s eyes widen and his mouth gapes, seeing you have a breakdown. He gulps hard, immediately pulling you into a hug. “D-Don’t cry? Ah, fuck.”

The best way for him to deal with you is to just make you laugh. Shion is a very funny guy, even when he doesn’t intend to be funny. Just seeing him panic so much is already making you laugh with how he’s running around.

He calms down a bit when you emit a small laughter, eyes still puffy and red. Shion will loosen his shoulders, wiping your tears off with his thumb and asking what happened and if there’s anything he can do.

— YASUHIRO MUTO (mucho)

Mucho is a quiet guy. He only speaks when he feels like it’s necessary and isn’t afraid to put in his opinion. With you, it’s the same but he’s a little bit more cautious with what he says.

Instead, he’ll silently observe you. As someone who dealt with getting rid of rats within Toman, he’s very keen on behavior that is different from the norm. He noticed your sentences cut short and your breath becoming more prolonged and exaggerated.

“Something happen?” He’ll finally give in, pulling you down into his lap and massaging your shoulders. “You look stressed.”

Although he doesn’t speak much, the words he says in reply to you venting to him is rather good advice. Even if it were just a couple of words, you know that he means every bit of it.

“You’ll get through it, I know it,” Mucho says, placing a kiss on your neck. “And if not, that’s okay too. We aren’t made to succeed in everything.”

— HARUCHIYO SANZU

Sanzu’s way of dealing with his own stress is to isolate himself until he feels like the situation as passed to where he can finally go back to acting ‘normal’ again.

Sanzu is also very observant, so if he sees that you’re stressed out, he’ll also probably leave you alone for a bit unless you tell him or give signs that you want him.

He’s not going to ask you what’s wrong until later on - if it were important, he’d want you to just tell him upfront. But if you didn’t tell him, then he just assumes that it’s an issue that will pass.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. He’ll still put in the effort in small ways like still making sure you’ve eaten, making sure that your space is clean, etc.

He’ll be patiently waiting for you to ease down. When Sanzu sees you finally showing yourself to him, he spreads out his legs a bit to signal to you that he’s free to talk to.

You place yourself in his lap and he cradles you. He’ll stare at you, waiting for you to say something before he can engage. If it’s someone who bothered you, Sanzu might consider ways to deal with them in private (but you always tell him that it’s not that serious). Otherwise, he’ll just listen and want to get your mind off of it.

— SHUJI HANMA

Hanma spends a lot of time with you throughout the day. He doesn’t see anything wrong with just wanting to use all of that time on someone he loves. If he’s bored, he’ll go over your place.

When he enters your place, he knew something was off. You didn’t even greet him at the door and that just won’t do.

Hanma will scoop you up, your face close to his, “Now what’s goin’ on, doll? Someone piss you off today?”

Hanma is surprisingly really easy to talk to. He nods in between your sentences, showing that he’s paying attention. Sometimes, he’ll plug in jokes here and there to hopefully get a laugh out of you.

“You’re stressed? Then stop being stressed,” Hanma teases, squishing the sides of your face before kissing you. He’ll latch himself into you, “Just give me that attention instead.”

[handsomelyhiddleston]

The Nanny - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader - PART 2 (smut)

“How long has this been going on?” Elsa asked, the two of you lounging on the couch while the kids were napping.

“I wasn’t aware anything was going on until yesterday” you answered, blushing as you told Hemsworth’s wife about your plans to stay with Tom over the short break.

“Well, if you ask Chris he’ll tell you he’s always known, but I was the first one to call it.” She gave you a smug look.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?!” you threw your arms up. “Would have been nice to know I actually had a chance.”

“You didn’t tell me you fancied him!” Elsa laughed. You both heard India start scooting down the stairs one by one.

“Doesn’t everybody?” you smirked, standing to go grab India. “Half the time I’m certain your husband has a crush on him.”

“Oh, he does.” Elsa laughed, following you up the stairs.

You and Elsa got the kids fed and dressed so she could visit Chris with the kids on set.

“You may as well bring your bag now” she suggested. “You can just go home with him when he’s done filming.”

You took a deep breath, thinking through what you should even pack.

“Are you nervous?” she asked, telling India to put her shoes on.

“I’m…I don’t know. This doesn’t feel real.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’ve been watching it happen for over a year, Y/n. It’s real. Now, living with someone makes you privy to certain details about each other that you otherwise wouldn’t know…I don’t snoop, but our laundry has crossed paths a few times…so when I tell you to wear the black lace lingerie, take my advice.” She winked, going to put India’s shoes on the correct feet.

When you all arrived at the set, the guys were in the middle of filming. You and Elsa sat back and watched them work through the choreography of a scene for about 20 minutes before a break was called.

“Do you mind watching the boys while I take India over to Chris?” Elsa asked.

“Not at all” you smiled and waved her off. You were sat on a bench and the twins were sat on the floor at your feet, so they could play with their blocks.

When Chris saw Elsa, his face lit up like a child’s. He ran off of the sound stage to meet her halfway. You spotted Tom looking around the room until he made eye contact with you, smiling and waving. When he passed Elsa and Chris, Elsa pulled him into a hug. It was obvious she was talking about you because she literally pointed while Tom ducked his head like they were teasing him. Tom continued towards you, joining you on the bench by the boys.  

“How is filming going?” you asked, resting your hand on his thigh.

“Today has actually been a lot of fun” he answered, putting his arm around your shoulders. “I am, however, incredibly sore from all of the choreography. We’ve been shooting fight scenes all day and I think every bit of me has been whacked or stepped on at least once.”

You ran your hand up and down his thigh, looking up at him. “You sound like you need a massage.”

“Are you offering, darling?” Tom’s voice sounded a tad husky and his eyes dropped to your lips for a split second.

“Oh, I would love to get my hands on you” you teased before he dipped down to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

“Come on, boys” Elsa called as she walked towards her twins.

Chris teased the two of you. “Really? In front of the children?”

“Be nice” Elsa scolded him.

“Or what?” he laughed, throwing the boys blocks into their bag and picking up Sasha. Elsa turned and gave him a knowing look. Chris nodded and replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“You are officially off duty” Elsa said, picking Tristan up.

You snuggled into Tom’s side a bit and sighed before hearing him say “I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”

When it was time for Tom to head to the make-up trailer to get out of costume, he grabbed your hand and took you with him. When they removed his wig and handed him make-up wipes, you started pulling out the bobby pins and combing your fingers through his hair. Dragging your nails gently over his scalp had him practically purring in your hands. “Better?”

“That feels amazing” he replied, his eyes shut and the make-up wipes forgotten.

“Finish up” you said, kissing his temple and grabbing the dirty make-up wipes from him to throw them in the trash.

“Eager, are we?” he teased, continuing to remove the stage make-up after the make-up artist left the trailer.

You watched him scrub the last bits of Loki away, a soft fond smile on your face. “For you?” He turned to face you. “Let’s just say I’ve probably been thinking about it a lot longer than you have.”

Tom stood up and threw the rest of the dirty face wipes away. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“I don’t know, I think everyone fell in love with you in Thor.” You replied.

“It doesn’t count if I hadn’t met you yet.” He laughed, gathering his things.

Picking up your bag, you turned to leave the trailer. “We met like, what? A year later?”

“That Christmas, actually.” Tom answered, following you out of the trailer. “You had already moved in with Chris and Elsa. She was just starting to really show her baby bump.”

“The party.” You said, nodding in agreement. “I remember. I felt like a massive fangirl when Chris introduced us.”

“Far from it” Tom answered, pulling your bag’s strap off your shoulder to carry your bag. “First, you looked incredible. You had on black and burgundy and I’m certain I spent an inappropriate amount of time looking at your ass.”

You laughed, remembering the dress. You felt like Morticia Addams with more cushion for the pushin’.

“Second, you were so confident. Every other person I met that night just wanted to talk about gossip or getting Botox or they’d ask me to do an impersonation. You asked me questions. Meaningful questions. You actually had opinions of your own when I asked about your favorite writers and films and such.”

You could feel yourself falling more and more the longer he went on. “I didn’t know you had such a high opinion of me.” You said, watching Tom put the bags in his car.

“Admittedly, I should have told you sooner.” He replied, coming around the car to open your door for you. When he climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled up, he continued. “But I am absolutely looking forward to making up for lost time” he said, leaning across the console to kiss you.

You stopped and grabbed food to take back to Tom’s. The two of you ate and had a few beers while lounging on his couch. It all felt very…normal? Comfortable. You were snuggled into his chest listening to him talk about how Hemsworth had broken three separate props today when you remembered what he had said about being sore.

When you went to pull away from Tom, he tightened his arm. “Darling, if you’re standing up to clean up the dinner mess, I will personally see to it that I find some way of punishing you during your stay.” You watched Tom lick his lips as he awaited your reply.

“While I know that I would enjoy every second of whatever you consider punishment, I was actually going to tell you to take your clothes off.” You smirked, watching his lips part and his eyes widen.

You stood and grabbed the trash from dinner, swaying your hips as you walked towards the kitchen trash can. “Hey!” Tom laughed, sitting upright on the couch. “Were you just trying to distract me?”

You walked back in the room with a bottle of lotion in your hands. “Why are you still dressed?” you teased him.

“I’d be at a disadvantage if I were the only one undressed” he replied, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get me naked soon enough” you laughed, kneeling by the couch. “Lose the pants and lay down on your stomach.”

“I’m never going to catch up if you keep spoiling me.” Tom stood and unbuttoned his jeans.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, your eyes glued to Tom’s body.

Tom loved that you seemed to get just as distracted by him as he was by you. “Y/n, you’re always the one taking care of everybody. Constantly.” He tossed his jeans to the side, standing in front of your kneeling form.

“Well, isn’t that just the pot calling the kettle black” you said, patting the couch and telling him to lay down. After warming some lotion in your hands, you ran them slowly but firmly up Tom’s back. “Tom, you’re always the first person to help.” Tom moaned, pressing his face into the cushion to quiet the noise. “You are always checking on me or helping with the kids or…”

“Well, I’ve been trying to show you how I feel, but it’s hard when you don’t need anything, and you don’t accept anyone’s help.” Tom interrupted you. “Oh, fuck me” he moaned, turning and laughing into the cushion. You were working on a knot in his muscles near his shoulder and you just got it to loosen up. “It’s really hard to have a serious conversation while you’re eliciting very sexual noises from me.”

“I’m actually enjoying this.” You smirked, starting to work on another knot.

“Well, what I’m trying to say…*moan*…is that I don’t want you feeling like you HAVE to do anything for me…*Oh god, whatever you just did felt amazing*…I want you to feel taken care of too.” Tom’s very heartfelt sentiment was spoken between groans, moans, and swear words.

“Sweetheart, I do things for people because I want to” you said, moving down his back towards his ass. “Just like you do and just like Elsa and Chris do. It’s not a competition. I’m not keeping score.” You were kneading your thumbs into Tom’s hip and thigh muscles.

Tom tried to sneakily adjust his growing issue between himself and the couch, but you saw. With your hands all over him, he was having a hard time not letting his mind wander. “If that’s true then you just have to accept that I want to do things for you too.”

“I think I can allow it.” You started working your way back up his thighs, when he reached back and grabbed one of your hands.

“This feels incredible, but if you keep touching me, I’m just going to get more and more turned on.” He turned to sit on the couch with a throw pillow covering his lap.

“And?” you said, still kneeling by the couch. You ran your hands up Tom’s thighs, your finger teasing at the band of his briefs.

Chucking the pillow to the floor, he leaned forward and pulled you into a rough kiss. “Take your clothes off.”

“Gladly.” You stood, pulling your shirt off and unbuttoning your jeans. Turning around so that Tom got a great view, you bent over and slid your jeans down your legs. When you turned around, you saw Tom palming himself as his eyes took in the black lace bralette and thong.

“Wherever you bought that set…we’re getting more of them.” Tom said, stripping off his last item of clothing before leaning forward and slipping his fingers into the waist of your thong. “You look unbelievably sexy.”

Tom made you feel like a goddess. He dragged your panties down your legs, letting you step out of them. When he leaned back you saw just how endowed Tom was. He saw you lick your lips and smirked.

Leaning back on the couch with his legs spread, Tom patted his thighs and started stroking his manhood. “Come here, gorgeous. That is, if you can handle me.”

While you were slipping out of your bralette, you teased back. “Are you sure you can handle me?”

“Sweetheart, I know that you’re a lot of woman…I know what I’m getting myself into” he said, still admiring your body… “and I am going to lick, touch, or suck every part of you before you leave this apartment.”

Placing your knees on the outside of Tom’s legs, you straddled his lap, letting him pull you into a rough kiss. His hands found their way to your ass, and then your breasts, and then your hips as he pulled you tight against his torso. “There is a condom in that drawer” he pointed to the small table by the couch.

“I’m on birth control…” you said, waiting for his response.

“Then it’s up to you” Tom answered, still wanting you to set that boundary.

You connected your lips in another kiss. “We don’t need it.”

Tom slid his hand between you two and ran the tip of his hardness up and down your dripping slit. “Jesus Christ, Y/n.” Tom brought his wet fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. “Mmm, so sweet. Glad to know I’ve got you as hot and bothered as you have me.”

You dragged your tongue along Tom’s bottom lip, asking permission to deepen the kiss. When his tongue ran over yours you could taste yourself in the kiss.

“I can’t wait anymore. Please.” You said, your hands roaming Tom’s perfect chest.

Tom pushed into you in one smooth motion, digging his fingers into your hips, “Ride me.”

You put your hands on the back of the couch and started moving, feeling him move his hips in rhythm with you. “Oh, fuck” you moaned, throwing your head back.

Tom buried his face in your chest, sucking love marks into the tender skin there. “God, you feel incredible.”

When Tom shifted a bit and hit your G spot, you could have sworn you saw stars. You grabbed his face and begged him to do it again.

Tom looked cocky, absolutely obsessed with making you fall apart. “Like this?” he said, roughly hitting the same spot a few times in a row.

“Tom!” you moaned his name, your fingers finding their way into his hair as you crashed your lips against his.

Tom could feel you clenching around him, your legs starting to shake. “Can you cum for me, baby?” He was ready to burst, himself.

You couldn’t form words. Your hands moved to your breasts, absentmindedly playing with your nipples as your orgasm built.

“You look luscious, y/n.” Tom gripped your hips, holding you in place as he franticly thrusted into you. “I’m gonna…”

Tom’s snap into overdrive tipped you right over the edge. Your bodies glistened with sweat and Tom’s hair was mussed from your idle hands. As you came down from your temporary highs, Tom kept running his hands up and down your sides, kissing your temple and then your shoulder and then your cheek.

When he pulled out of you, you groaned and tucked your face into his neck.

“Don’t worry, my sweet. There’s plenty more where that came from.” Tom held you against his chest, feeling both of your breathing level back out.

When you thought you could actually move again, you sat up and pulled him into a gentle kiss. “Mmm…thank you.” You said against his lips.

“Let’s go get cleaned up, darling.” Tom held your hands as you stood.

“Lead the way.” You smirked, waiting for Tom to walk ahead of you. When he did, you couldn’t help but smack his amazing ass.

“Is that your way of telling me you want to be spanked?” Tom quipped, grabbing a stack of towels and taking them to the bathroom.

You laughed and then stood there thinking about what he had asked. *mmm Tom’s hands* *I mean, he did tell me he would punish me for cleaning up dinner* *Oh god, thinking about him being rough is turning me on all over again*

You were thinking it through when he popped his head back around the corner. “Might I suggest you have your dirty thoughts in the shower so we don’t run out of hot water.”

You shook your head, ending your daydream and looking at the adorable face staring back at you. You walked towards him, going on your tip-toes to give him a quick kiss. “Spanking is a yes.”

Tom laughed, walking with you to the shower. “We should probably try a bit of everything, if I’m being honest. It’s good to try new things.”

Your eyes went wide. “You only have two days off work.”

Tom pulled you to his chest, under the water. “My sweet, we’ve got the rest of our lives.”

[mandoalorian]

What about Javier Pena being jealous?????? 🥺

Thank you for the request! I hope this is okay for you!!

Into You [Javier Pena x Female Reader] SMUT

Warnings: SMUT, inexperienced reader, angst in the start but fluff in the end ;) <3

Rating: 18+ only.

Word count: 4k

MASTERLIST | Submit your requests HERE

Javier Peña did not get jealous.

But he heard the way they talked about you. He saw the way they looked at you. Gawked, undressing you with their minds. The way their lips spewed dirt and filth about the things they'd do to you if they were graced with the chance of some ‘alone time’ with you. And he hated it.

Javier Peña was anything but a saint. He had his ways. The DEA had a renown of being more reserved than the CIA, which meant Javier had earned a name for himself due to his lothario reputation.  Javier's colleagues were a lot older than him, settled down with families, children- and some even with grandchildren. Even his old partner, Steve Murphy, had a wife and a daughter. Javier had none of that. Except from you.

You were the new receptionist. Shy, fresh faced, and beaming with anticipation as you found your feet in your new job. Javier found it endearing, but he wondered how long your bubbliness would last. It wasn't all rainbows and butterflies- working for the DEA. You had an air of innocence to you, and he swore you had the kindest heart in the whole of Colombia. Javier knew from the moment he met you, that the men in his department were not deserving of you.

Javier didn't give a fuck about his reputation. But when the Colombian department extended to the CIA, Javier met a lot more men who were like himself. He saw them chat up women from his previous encounters in bars, and he saw them visit the same brothels as he did. That behaviour seemed to become normalized.

You were the only women in a department filled with horny, sex crazed men. Often, Javier would find himself watching you from his desk, only a pane of glass seperating you both. Almost always you were on the phone, doodling in a notebook as you talked to potential informants. Other times, your head was down and you were whisked away in your work. Occasionally though, he noticed CIA agents bust their move with you.

He never confronted you about it- it wasn't his place, but seeing the way they spoke to you filled a rage in his heart. Javier was lucky enough to blossom a friendship with you; one that you really valued. You didn't have many friends in Colombia, but knowing a man like Javier Peña had your back? That really brought you comfort.

Even better, you lived in the same apartment building as him. Same floor, just two doors apart. It meant that you were constantly over at his flat spending time with him. He taught you how to play poker and you enjoyed watching movies together and ordering take-out. Javier was a lot of fun.

Maybe, just maybe, you and Javier were spending too much time together. You were catching feelings for him, and shit- he was so sure he had already caught feelings for you.

Javier Peña does not catch feelings. He ran out on his and Lorraine's wedding because he was sure that he felt nothing for her. And she was his fiancée. Now, all of a sudden, he had a thing for the new DEA receptionist who sat outside his office. Only, it was more than just a thing. Javier Peña was in love. The sweet girl he had found to be so caring and compassionate, the angel who had eyes that must've been crafted by the Gods themselves and the softest lips he wished he could kiss.

You had sworn you had never been in love either, until of course, you met Javier. There was no way to explain it. You both just clicked like magnets. There was an electricity that exceeded just mere sexual tension. There was genuine feelings. 

Javier Peña is impulsive and so, when his feelings for you dawned on him, he called up his favourite sex worker; Vanessa. Not only was she good at her job, Vanessa was a good person. She was good to Javi when she didn't need to be, and that was hard to find in 80s drug-torn Colombia.

When Javi had a bad day at work- Vanessa would be at his beck and call. Sex was a way he could release any negative emotions he had. A temporary fix.

That night, you had planned to confront Javier. He had confided in you previously that he had stopped sleeping with women. Deep down, it was because of his feelings for you; although he would never admit that to you. You wanted to tell Javier that you liked him… a lot. But, you stood behind his apartment door, bottle of wine in hand, and heard Javier fucking Vanessa.

You froze up as you overheard their mixed up moans and groans of pleasure, immediately feeling stupid. Why would you believe that you actually had a chance with Javier Peña? He clearly didn't feel the same way about you.

And so you went back to your apartment, climbed into bed and finished the bottle of wine on your own. You closed your eyes and masturbated over him, whining his name as pleasure filled your core. 

And when Javier fucked Vanessa, he had her wear your pale pink lipgloss. He imagined her eyes match your specific shade and as he reached his climax, he wished it was with you. When he came, he screamed your name.

Of course, Vanessa didn't care. A job was a job to her.

After that night, you done your very best to brush away any feelings you once had for Javier. You tried really hard. You were beginning to believe it was a lost cause until CIA Agent Milo approached your desk about a month later.

Of course Javier noticed. He tried to take in the interaction between the two of you, judging from facial expressions as the glass pane in between you was practically soundproof. You were smiling, and you looked happy. Milo leaned against your desk, taking a pen and scrawling something on a sticky note. It was his number.

Jealousy was rife inside of Javi. Maybe Milo was about ten years younger than Javier, and maybe he read more fashion magazines. Although Javier considered himself stylish, you would often tease him for his 70s style wardrobe— an array of brightly coloured button up shirts, the same pair of dark blue denim jeans and pair of yellow tinted aviators. 

Javier knew Milo was no good for you. He reminded Javi of a younger version of himself. Milo was a heartbreaker, and you didn't need that. You needed someone who could look after you. Take care of you in all the ways you needed.

Not only that, but Javier knew what the CIA department was like— especially Milo. He would have nothing but questionable intentions with you. Another one of his sexual encounters that meant nothing to him but everything to you.

It was late on a Saturday evening when you nervously knocked on Javier's door. Just about to light up a cigarette, he stood up and unlocked it. His eyes widened when he saw you, slightly surprised. 

You were wearing a little black dress which clung around all your perfections, and ofcourse, your signature pink lip gloss.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he greeted as you slid past him and into the kitchen. "Want a drink?"

"No thank you." you replied, and Javier shut the front door and followed you into the kitchen.

"So what brings you here?" Javier asked, lighting his cigarette and taking a puff of smoke.

"I have a date with Milo in 45 minutes," you told Javier, awkwardly avoiding eye contact.

"Oh," Javier didn't really know how to respond.

"And, I missed you." you shrugged innocently, beckoning a small smile out of Javier. The blush that crept upon his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"So, uh, Milo, huh?" Javier questioned, taking another drag of his cigarette. He failed to realise why exactly you had come to see him- 45 minutes before your date.

"Um, yeah," you looked around his kitchen awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. "He's pretty great." you managed to force out. "He was employee of the month like, three months ago."

"Yeah a real sucker upper," Javi rolled his eyes and you gasped, nudging him playfully.

"He is not." You laughed but Javier really wasn't in the mood for whatever you were trying to do here.

"Why are you here?" he deadpanned, cutting your laugh short.

"I…" you frowned, unable to complete your sentence and earning an annoyed sigh from Javi. Maybe you were wrong to come to him.

"I don't think you should go out on a date with Milo." Javi informed you matter-of-factly; stubbing out his cigarette in the ash-tray that was conveniently placed on the kitchen counter.

"Excuse me?" you asked, your voice going uncontrollably high pitched. Javier casually placed the burnt out tab back in his mouth.

"I hear the things they say about you in the office, the sly little comments they make about you." Javier grunted, dismay written all over his face. The cigarette that was balanced in-between his perfect pink lips wobbled slightly with his building up anger. "They're no good for you. No good."

You narrowed your eyes. "No good? Javier, you don't get to be the judge of who is good for me and who isn't." You tried to stay composed but in the heat of the moment, your words came out as a snarl. Javier's dark eyes snapped up to meet yours as he tried to weigh up your expression.

"Shit, I didn't mean it like that." he raised his hands in defense and you folded your arms across your chest, awaiting an explanation for him. "It's just- we're friends, right? And I'm a guy and so, I understand what these other guys are like. And I care about you and-" 

"What if Milo cares about me?" you croaked out. Judging from everything Javier had told you so far, you were beginning to wonder if he was right. You just didn't want to believe it. Your one shot of happiness. Your one chance.

"Milo doesn't care about you." Javier deadpanned.

"Ouch Javi." you shuffled your heels around uncomfortably. You were certain your cheeks were heating up from the shame and you probably looked like an absolute mess in front of Javier. You felt embarrassed for not realising sooner. And seemingly, Javier had caught on to those feelings too.

"You have nothing to feel ashamed about," Javier comforted you, awkwardly reaching out and placing a hand on your back. You shuffled closer to him and he finally pent up the courage to pull you into his chest.

His embrace was warm and you could smell the mixture of his cigarettes and aftershave in his white shirt. You wanted to cry. If you were alone, you would've cried, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so in front of Javier.

"I feel pathetic," you whimpered, fidgeting with his tie. "You know Javi, I'm not very good at this kind of stuff. That's why I came to see you in the first place. I know that- I mean I've heard things about you. You have the experience."

Javier stiffened up and you awkwardly pulled away from him, desperately trying to read his expression in case you said something wrong. "Experience?" he questioned, his dark eyebrows knotting together.

"You- you know," you murmured, closing your hands into a fist and looking down at your feet. "You're experienced and I'm… not."

"I don't understand." Javier replied and you huffed out your cheeks.

"Fuck Javi, are you actually going to make me say it? I'm a virgin."

Javier blinked a few times. The silence was deafening. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

"I- I would've never have guessed."

"Yeah well…" Fuck, this was awkward.

"Y/N, can I tell you something?" Javier prompted.

"I guess?" you replied in bewilderment.

"When I see him talk to you- when I see anyone talk to you… I get jealous. So fucking jealous."

You swore your heart stopped. "Jealous?"

"I see the way they make you laugh and smile- and I curse myself because I wish that was me."

You raised a hand and pressed it into his chest. "Javi…" you didn't know what to say. "I- I came here for… advice. About… you know. Sex."

Javier looked you up and down and rolled his eyes, walking into his living room. When you followed him, he was already slouched into the sofa, nursing a bottle of cold beer.

"What do you need from me?" Javier sighed, feeling defeated that his attempt of admitting his true feelings had become completely lost on you.

"Show me." you whispered nervously, taking a few steps closer to him.

"I don't want to take advantage of you…" Javier trailed off but he was already wishing he could undress you.

"I want you to." you admitted, feeling butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

Javier contemplated for a moment but really, there was no question about it. He had dreamt of fucking you since the moment he first laid his eyes on you. Javier leaned forward and put the bottle of beer on the coffee table.

"Take off your dress and come sit on my lap." Javier instructed and you nodded, sliding out of your dress and letting it pool around your ankles. You went to kick off your heels when Javi interrupted. "No, keep them on."

You nodded with a slight smile. It wasn't long until you found yourself standing completely naked in front of your best friend, and Javi had gotten rock hard from just watching you undress. All his fantasies were alive.

He beckoned you over and you sunk down onto his lap. "Rock your hips over me," Javi mumbled, pressing a light kiss into your ear.

You followed his command and immediately felt a wash of satisfaction as you started to dry hump him through his jeans.

"Javi," you moaned, your eyes rolling back as you grind harder over his bulge.

"That's it, good girl," he praised, fucking a stand of your hair behind your ear. His hand fell down to your chest, grabbing and squeezing at your breasts. "Take what you need."

A huff of air escaped your lips at his words and you buried your head into the crook of his neck. His skin was warm and you could smell the tobacco burnt into his body. But also, there was a sweetness to him, like honey. The scents did not get lost on you. He was your addiction.

You raised your hands to his head, lacing your fingers amongst his locks of dark brown hair. As you increased your speed, you tugged on his hair which earned a hearty groan from Javier's mouth. The noises he made only spurred on your arousal and you felt your cunt getting wetter by the second, contracting around nothing as you began to grow desperate for his cock.

Javier felt his boxer shorts dampen as his precum dripped through the thin material. His big hands roamed your bare back and he knew that pretty soon he'd want to take his pants off. You loved the sensation of rubbing your pussy over his denim jeans, the friction tickling you in just the right ways. You loved the way he would moan or tense up when you occasionally brushed over his erection.

"This feels better than I ever could've imagined." you admitted and your eyes were hazy, glazed with tears as you pushed towards your climax.

"Yeah? Fuck, first times usually aren't this good," Javier grunted as he felt you twitch on top of him, your legs beginning to shake around him. "Can you cum for me?"

"You- you want me to cum?" you blinked, a blush creeping upon your cheeks.

"Please," Javier groaned. "Need you to cum all over me. Make a mess of my jeans."

"Oh Javi," you whimpered, putting more focus on grinding over his hard, defined bulge. It rubbed between your folds and stimulated you in a way that your fingers could never.

"I love it when you say my name," Javier hummed, holding you steady as you rode out your high. You gasped and pressed your lips against his.

He swiped his tongue over your lower lip, begging for entry which you happily granted him. But the second you opened your mouth just slightly, he slid his tongue in and you gasped out another loud moan of his name causing his grip to tighten around you. You came undone all over him, just how he had always dreamt about, whimpering into his mouth. You stopped grinding but stayed still on his lap for a few moments, letting him hold you and kiss you.

His kiss eventually left your lips and he planted sloppy love bites down your neck and along your collarbones. His grip on your breast was soft yet firm and the roughness of his hands made you want to help, especially when he rubbed his thumb over your nipple, pinching it slightly just to see what reaction he could get out of you.

"Your tits are fucking perfect." Javier groaned, licking a stripe down the valley of your breasts. You watched him with eager and excited eyes as he played with you, feeling your cunt drip with your arousal once more.

"Javi," you groaned, tossing your head back.

"What is it?" he responded, a mouthful of your tit. You paused for a moment, letting him suck on your nipples. "What do you need, my love?"

"I need you," you mewled, your toes curling involuntarily when he pulled his mouth away from your nipples with a 'pop' sound. "Need your cock to fill me up."

"Yeah? Fuck you're so dirty… never had no cock before. And you want mine? Are you sure that's what you want, sweet girl?" Javier's mustache brushed against your neck and you giggled at the tickle it gave you.

"Mm yes Javi, wanted this for so long and so bad. Wanted you. I'd hear about all the girls that you fucked and I, I just wanted to be one. One of your little fuck toys." You groaned, pleasure pooling in your eyes.

"My love, you're more than that. You're so much more than that." Javier promised you, gently pushing you off his lap so he could unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. He stood up, pulling his jeans down, along with his boxer shorts, and you couldn't help but yelp when you saw the way his long thick cock sprung out against his stomach. The tip was red and already leaking for you.

"Oh Javi," you whispered, unable to take your eyes off his manhood. "You're so- you're so big."

"Come here," he curled his finger, gesturing for you to come back over and sit on his lap.

You straddled him again and gasped, feeling his cock press between your folds. You continued to rub over him, this time feeling more freeing as your wetness glided over his erection. "I'm nervous," you admitted. "I want this Javi. I really do, but I've never- done this before." you gulped and Javi planted a reassuring kiss to your lips.

"I'll go gentle sweetheart, I promise. And if it ever gets too much, you can just tell me. Your comfort is the most important to me." Javi whispered in your ear, sending chills down your spine. "Let me just…."

Javier lowered his hand to your clit and began to rub gently. He closed his eyes, your wetness soaking his fingers with just the smallest of touches. "Already so nice and wet for me," Javier smiled, bringing his fingers up to your lips and pushing them gently into your mouth. He watched you with his dark, lust blown eyes as you sucked your own arousal from his fingers. "How do you taste?" 

"Good," you replied, blushing again and hopelessly fluttering your eyelashes which framed your eyes.

Javier lowered his hand again and you lifted yourself up slightly. He slid his middle finger in, deep, and you were surprised at how well you could take him. He left his finger inside of you for a second before rubbing his index finger against your hole. He looked at you, asking for approval, to which you gave him a nod and smile, and Javier pushed a second finger inside of you. This earned a moan from you, followed by a giggle as he slowly stretched you out by pumping his fingers in and out of you.

Feeling your walls contract around him, he removed his fingers and brought them up to his own mouth, this time tasting you for himself. "Perfect." he corrected you, humming in delight.

Javier reached over to the drawer inside the coffee table and pulled out a string of condoms. He teared open the packet of one and skillfully slid it down his length.

Javier adjusted himself slightly and you lifted off him just a few inches. He reached to his cock and held it upright, before signalling for you to sink down on him. He wanted to let you be in control. He wanted you to start doing it at your own, comforting pace.

The second you sunk down on him, you felt him twitch inside of you and your eyes widened at the unfamiliar feeling fullness. You sat down on him, nudging your nose against his and he kissed you again as you warmed his cock in your pussy.

"So tight," Javier growled, biting down on your lower lip. "How does it feel for you? Is it hurting?"

You shook your head 'no' and Javier offered you a warm smile. "Just- you're just so big."

"Take your time sweet girl." Javier murmured, kissing down your neck.

Slowly, you lifted yourself off him before sinking back down. And repeat. Until eventually you felt like you could build up a steady and comfortable rhythm— you realised you were riding him. Javier buried his head into your breasts as you bounced on his cock, your breathing hitching as you felt every one of his bumps and veins inside of you.

Javier was a mess underneath you, slurring out an abundance of incoherent curses in a wash of satisfaction as your cunt clenched around him. He knew he wouldn't last long.

You straightened up your posture and Javi shuffled backwards a little, leaning into the plush of the sofa cushions. His hips started to snap into yours as he began to meet your thrusts with loud moans. His large hands held you by your waist as he fucked you so perfectly. His cock was buried deep within you, and with every one of Javier's thrusts, he hit your sweet spot.

"I'm close," you gasped as Javier continued thrusting. You felt your heart rate pick up and your legs begin to shake as his balls slapped against your dripping core.

"Me too," Javier concluded, bumping his nose against yours and kissing you passionately. Breaking away to catch breath, he grabbed a fistful of your hair. "Cum with me. 3, 2, 1." 

The second he said '1' you broke on top of him, and Javier's cock pulsed inside of you, his seed spilling into the condom. Your cunt clenched around him, milking him of all his arousal and you were left, a breathless mess, on Javier Peña's lap. His cock slipped out of you and you groaned at the lost feeling of fullness. Javier pinched the condom and took it off before throwing it into the nearby trash bin.

Javier's dark eyes blinked up at you a few times as you both took a few minutes to regain your breath. "How was it?" Javier asked eventually, exhaling shakily.

"Better than I ever could've imagined." you offered him a smile. He always found that your smile was contagious and he couldn't help but grin at you back.

"Listen- what I said to you before- the whole, "I'm into you" thing… if you're not ready, I completely understand." Javier told you.

You couldn't bring yourself to fathom words so you simply just pressed a kiss into his lips. "I'm into you too, Javier Peña." you whispered and felt Javier grin into the kiss, his hands twisting into your hair as he pulled you deeper into him.

Permanent taglist (let me know if you would like to be added!):  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic 

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Hi! I'm the anon that asked for any requests you are comfortable or not with, first of all, thanks for answer my question! And second, would you be so kind to write about a male villain confessing his feelings to a female hero with some sexual tension in the middle and then if you want that the thing ends up in something nsfw, please?^^

Request #24

Warning: nsfw.

Man, this one came out long, but I'm hella happy with it! Also, having the characters have different genders really made the writing easier, so I'm probably gonna be doing that more often, lmao.

Enjoy, dear anon!

~~~~

"Ugh! Why are you like this?!" - Hero exclaimed, frustrated as she threw another punch in the villain's direction. He dodged it with ease and caught her wrist, swiftly bringing her closer and landing a hit on her face.

Disoriented, the hero couldn't do anything as Villain pinned her against the wall, her arms held above her head. They were both panting, gasping for air from the exhausting fight that had led them to this point. She tugged at her wrists, trying to break free, but his grip was unyielding.

"Why am I like what?" - the villain asked, making Hero's blood boil even more.

"Don't play dumb!" - she growled out, snarling angrily. "You've been doing this shit for weeks now!"

Before Villain could question her more, the hero lunged her head forward and bit him on the face, catching him off guard. His grip loosened, and his nemesis was quick to take advantage of it. She freed her arms, grasped onto him, and threw them both to the ground.

They thrashed around, rolling all over the dusty floor of the abandoned warehouse they were in until eventually, Hero found herself on top of her enemy, straddling his hips, pinning down his wrists on either side of his head.

Now, even more tired, they glared at each other. The woman decided to voice her frustrations further. "Every. Fucking. Day." - she started.

"Every fucking day, you've been doing whatever you can to waste my time and force me out into the field."

The villain grit his teeth. "I'm not doing this to waste your time."

"Oh, yeah? Then why-" - the hero was never able to finish talking as Villain jutted his hips and threw her off balance. He rolled them both over, swapping their places so that he was on top.

"BECAUSE I WANTED TO SEE YOU!" - the villain exclaimed without thinking, too frustrated to think twice before speaking.

She gaped at him, trying to understand his words. "You-? W-What?"

He faltered, regret starting to eat away at him. He should not have said that. He should not have said-

They switched places again. Hero was on top of Villain, and- ah, shit- he hadn't realized just how close she was- how- how intimate this felt...

A blush threatened to take over his face, but he fought against it, successfully keeping it at bay. Or at least, he was successful until the hero decided to hover her face right in front of his own.

Suspicious, she questioned, "What do you mean you 'wanted to see me?'"

"I- I uh..." - what the hell was happening?! Since when did he stutter?! He couldn't come up with a reasonable answer, and he refused to tell the truth. So, he just shut his mouth.

She waited a few more seconds, hoping he would answer. But silence and shifty eyes were all that she got.

"Villain, c'mon! What is up with you recently?" - Hero tried again, but the villain still refused to talk. He wasn't even looking at her anymore.

Annoyed, she held down his wrists with one hand while the other grabbed his chin, tilting his head and catching his attention. Their eyes locked, and she swore his pupils were more dilated than usual.

"You've just been acting so weird lately! And, I- I just-" - she stopped, furrowing her eyebrows as she got lost in thought. Was... Was Villain blushing? This was all so- so unlike him!

His pupils are wide, he doesn't want to look at her, and he said he was doing all of this because he 'wanted to see her?' What did any of this mean?! And what the hell is poking her in the-

Oh

A blush assaulted her face as the dots suddenly connected, her lips forming into a thin line as she looked down at their touching crotches.

She looked back at him. His face was even brighter, a look in his eyes.

Oh

Hero's brain scrambled to break the silence, but her words did not want to cooperate. "I- Do- Do you- Are you-"

"I like you!" - Villain blurted out. He could feel the sweat going down the side of his face as the hero above him became stunned.

"I- I really uh- really like you." - he said again.

Breaking out of her daze, she responded, "Uh... Yeah, I- I can tell."

...

Holy shit, this was awkward.

...

The hold on his chin had loosened at some point, and he looked away again. She broke the silence once more. "How long?"

He almost choked on his spit, looking back to her. "H-Huh?"

"How long have you uh... had feelings for me?"

Oooh, right.

"I- I don't know..." - he admitted. "It just... kind of... happened somewhere along the line...?"

She took a deep breath as if steeling herself for something. Oh, God, what will she say? This is the part where she calls him a weirdo and runs away, isn't it?

"It's... nice to know I'm not the only idiot around here then."

...

"What?"

Clearing her throat, Hero shily muttered, "I- I like you too."

Villain was pretty sure his brain had just short-circuited. Did- Did he hear that right?

"I- You- You like me back?"

She nodded in reply. He was still shocked that this was happening. What were they supposed to do now? Fight? He didn't really want to fight. He had some... other activities on the mind.

Sighing internally, Villain did his best to collect his thoughts. Someone had to move this conversation forward, and it seemed like the hero wouldn't be the one to do it.

"Do you... still want to fight?" - he asked. She looked at him a bit puzzled before her equally fried mind caught up. "I mean- I just... don't really feel like it anymore."

"Uh... Y-Yeah, alright." - she responded, releasing her grip and carefully moving off him so that their crotches wouldn't brush against one another. The villain sat up, and they both remained there on the ground, playing with the dust to keep themselves distracted.

...

It was quiet again. Villain almost groaned, angry with himself. He wanted to say something, but- How was he supposed to say this? It's not like he could just-

"Do you wanna fuck?" - Hero suddenly blurted out, and he sputtered, unable to respond like a functioning human being.

She panicked a bit. "S-Sorry! Uh- Too- Too forward?"

"Y-Yes! I- I mean no! I- I mean-" - he buried his face in his hands. Why was this so difficult?! He was an adult! Both of them were!

Wait- An adult, yes! Just- Think, Villain. How would a sensible adult proceed in this situation?

He uncovered his eyes, taking a look around. They were both on the ground, covered in sweat, dirt, and decades-old dust. They had gotten some good hits on each other, so they had some bruises and cuts.

So, if they were to... have sex - he still couldn't believe this was happening - the most responsible thing to do would probably be... going elsewhere...? But where? To one of their houses, perhaps?

Villain sighed audibly, catching the hero's attention. "Do you... want to come over to my place?"

Her eyes widened, and her face burned brighter at his question. He added frantically, "O-Or we could go to your place! Or- Or no place at all! We could just forget this ever happe-!"

He froze as fingers pressed against his lips, silencing him. He looked at her again. She smiled nervously before saying, "W-We can't forget about this. We could try, but..."

Her eyes traveled up and down his body quickly, studying him, and he couldn't help but shiver under her gaze. "...I'm pretty sure we would both fail miserably."

She pulled her hand back, and he already missed her touch.

"So..." - she started. "...Your place...?"

"S-Sure." - Villain managed to answer. He lifted himself off the ground and offered her his hand, which she took. Upon pulling her up, their bodies lightly collided, Hero's hands landing on his chest to steady herself and one of the villain's hands catching her by the waist. They silently stood there for a moment, blushing as if they had never touched another person, before swiftly separating.

With some awkward coughs and clearing of throats, they were on the move again, working together so they wouldn't get seen.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"This is your house?" - the hero asked, looking around. The tension between them had eased a bit since they left the warehouse. "I won't lie, I always imagined it to be... a lot less normal than this."

Villain snorted at that. "What, were you expecting red string and cork boards?"

She didn't answer, only biting the inside of her cheek and crossing her arms, making him chuckle a bit before getting back on track. He led her through the house, arriving at a bathroom. "I think it'd be best if we got cleaned up a bit since we've been rolling around in dirt and whatnot all day."

"Why, Villain. Are you being responsible?" - Hero asked playfully. He gave her an "Oh- shush." before showing her where everything was. A smile crept onto his face regardless; he had missed their casual banter.

"Now, I have another bathroom upstairs connected to my bedroom, so once you're done, you can uh... you can join me... I guess..."

"Smooth." - she replied teasingly, getting a blush from him. "I got one more question, though."

"Yes?"

She grinned, looking forward to his reaction. "What am I supposed to wear?"

Villain seemed to freeze for a moment before it registered in his brain that Hero did not, in fact, have any spare clothing to put on. His blush worsened tenfold, and she laughed.

Through her giggles, she asked, "Do you want me to just come upstairs nake-?"

"Bathrobe! Yup! There's uh- There's one right there!" - he blurted out, not letting her finish. She looked to where he was pointing, and there was indeed a bathrobe hanging there, next to some towels.

She gave another small chuckle. "Alright."

Turning back to him, she lightly bit her lip and gave him a look, tracing a finger along his jawline. "But you better wear one too~."

Hero didn't realize a person could blush this badly. For the poor villain's sake, she kept her giggles in this time, letting him respond. "Y-You got it!"

With that, Villain left. He walked out calmly, but a few seconds later, she still heard him sprint down the hall and couldn't keep her laughter to herself.

As he moved up the stairs - way too quickly for it to be normal - he silently cursed himself. Why was he acting like such an idiot?! He had sex before! This was nothing new!

No, no, it's not that this was new or something. It wasn't his fault! It was Hero's!

Hero with her stupid smile that made his knees weak, and her dumb laughter that made his heart flutter, and- and...

...

Has Villain ever felt like this before? Has he ever... fallen for someone like this?

Perhaps before he had become the villain, but... that was a long time ago. He no longer remembered anything from that part of his life. He only remembered the now. He only remembered his fights with Hero.

As he arrived at his bedroom's bathroom, he smiled. The woman really had taken over his mind, hadn't she? She was incredible, no other like her. And amazingly enough, she returned his feelings too.

The villain stripped free of his ruined clothing and hopped into the shower. Rubbing soap onto his dirtied skin, he pondered on that thought. Did she truly feel the same way? What if this was... just some elaborate trick...?

He faltered for a moment, having not considered such an option. What if the hero wanted to catch him off guard...? While he was vulnerable...?

He shook his head. No, that couldn't be the case. He knew her. He knew how her real laughter sounded. He knew how she looked when she was acting, pretending to be happy. And this... this was no act.

Hero loved him back.

Villain knew that. His mind just enjoyed tormenting him sometimes.

As he scrubbed at his scalp and hair, he returned to the present. Hero was here, in his house, and they were basically about to have sex together. His face flushed red again as another thought crossed his mind. Who...

Who would be on top...?

...

Honestly, the villain was fine with being either but... he'd be lying if he said Hero didn't look hot as hell on top of him.

Dear Lord, he was getting turned on just thinking about how she had pinned him down earlier.

...

He really needed to get out of the shower already. Getting back on track, he fully rinsed himself and turned the water off. Hurriedly, he grabbed a towel and dried himself off. Once done with that, he wrapped himself in a bathrobe identical to the one downstairs. It was soft and warm. It helped calm him.

Taking a deep breath, he gripped the door's handle and opened it. Upon doing so, Villain was met with the sight of Hero casually lying on his bed, loosely wrapped in her bathrobe. He could see her cleavage and- shit, he was staring-

Looking away and clearing his throat, he closed the bathroom door.

"Took your sweet time in there, huh?" - she asked with that playful expression back on her face once more. The villain went to respond, but she smirked and continued. "Didn't start the fun without me, did you~?"

"N-No." - he said, and she chuckled at his nervousness. Why was he like this? This was his house and his bed that Hero was lying on! She was just being so confident and... and taking charge and...

She grinned wider, amused as she looked at his crotch. He also looked.

...

Shit.

Well, if that didn't make it obvious he was enjoying this...

...

He looked back up at Hero, and she wiggled her finger at him, beckoning him to come and join her. He silently obliged, crawling onto the bed and sitting in front of her. She was leaning against the headboard, soft pillows arranged so that they would support her back.

The hero scooted forward a bit. Feeling daring, Villain copied her and gasped as he suddenly found himself under her. She had grabbed him and switched their places before he could react, pressing him against the headboard and straddling him.

He stammered, trying to come up with something to say, but grew silent as Hero cradled his cheek. Her thumb rested on his lips as she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I hope you weren't planning on being the top~?"

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he answered, breathless, "No... I wouldn't have this any other way..."

She grinned at him, eyes half-lidded as she tangled her hands in his hair. He sighed, relaxing under her touch as she brought their lips together in a soft kiss. Villain's arms wrapped around her waist, bringing her closer.

A moan hummed in his throat as Hero's hands trailed down his chest and landed on his bathrobe's belt. Slowly, teasingly, she untied it, the fabric loosening around him, letting her slip it off him, exposing his body to her.

Shivers coursed through the villain as her hands glided along his bare skin. He wanted to feel her too. His hands traced her curves, sneaking towards her belt. As his fingers brushed against it, she caught his wrists, scolding him lightly. "Ah, ah. Not allowed~."

He opened his mouth to protest, but only a gasp left him as one of her hands went to his cock. The hero's fingers brushed against it, her touch feather-light, experienced. Villain grasped at the bedsheet below them, breath coming out uneven as she slowly stroked him.

Even as she drew pleasured mewls from him, she took a moment to admire his shaft. It was a decent length, not the biggest one out there, but certainly above the average. It was just right for her, and she complimented so, whispering in his ear again, "You're the perfect size~. And it looks so nice too~."

He shuddered at her words, and she moved her face in front of him once more. Their mouths locked again, her free hand grabbing the back of his head, pulling him in. She seized his bottom lip in her teeth, nibbling on it gently. Her tongue asked for entrance, and he let her in, deepening the kiss. She explored the inside of his mouth, memorizing every nook and cranny.

Villain sucked in a sharp breath as Hero's hand stopped, and her thumb began running small circles on the tip of his dick, smearing pre-cum across it. As their lips parted again, they gasped for air. Another smile graced her features as he begged. "F-Fuck! Hero, please, can I touch you? Please."

The woman hummed, considering his plea. She adored the needy look on his face, the way his fingers twitched around the clutched bed sheets, desperate for contact. The hero gave a small chuckle. "Well, since you asked so nicely~."

With the permission given, the villain's hands immediately moved to strip her free of her robe. She laughed some more at his haste before kissing him again. Low moans left them both as they touched and teased each other. His hands trailed down her spine, making her arch into him and raising more pleasured sounds from her.

Showing her approval, Hero stroked Villain a few times, her movements swift and firm, drawing another shudder from him. They separated for air again, her hands moving up to cradle his face as she suggested, "How about we get to the fun part now~?"

His hands trailed to her hips, his mouth opened to reply, but he suddenly pulled back, looking as if he just remembered something. "Oh, hold on."

The hero watched curiously as he leaned to the side of the bed towards a nightstand. The villain opened one of the drawers and pulled something out of it. She gave an amused snort once the two objects entered her vision.

"What?" - he asked as she giggled again, looking between her, the bottle of lube and condom in his hands.

"I don't get to see you being a responsible adult very often. It's cute." - she admitted, making him blush once more without fail.

He grumbled under his breath, but the smile on his face told her there was no bite behind it. She took the small bottle from him and moved back a bit. Villain paid her no mind, focused on getting the condom out of its package and slipping it on. Once he successfully finished his task, he looked up again.

His dick twitched at the sight that greeted him. Hero was sitting on the other end of the bed, her legs spread wide as she poured some lube onto her throbbing sex. She gasped lightly as the cold substance made contact and then used her hand to tease at her folds.

The villain watched as she slipped a finger inside herself, slowly moving in and out. His own hand went to his cock, stroking himself as he grew entranced by the show. He matched her pace, and she groaned quietly as she slipped a second finger in, stretching herself in preparation.

Their eyes locked, and they stayed that way for a little bit, pleasuring themselves and listening to one another's soft gasps and moans. Eventually, Hero's impatience got the best of her. She pulled her fingers out and crawled over to Villain.

Grabbing onto his shoulders, she positioned herself at his dick, and he held her by the waist, giving her some additional support. They inhaled shakily in unison as she took in the tip of his cock. She moved down slowly, letting herself adjust to his size, and he made no complaints, haphazardly leaving small pecks on her face, which got another giggle out of her.

Once he was fully sheathed inside of her, he ran his hands down her thighs, making her shiver and pull him into another kiss. Her touch trailed over his sides to his hips and then back up to cradle his head. His own hands moved up her body, one grasping her breast, squeezing and kneading while the other moved to get tangled in her hair.

Experimentally, the hero moved her hips forward, making them both moan against one another, the sound muffled by their connected lips. Leisurely, she began moving up and down, setting a calm pace, the slight pain of being stretched around him fading into pleasure. Their mouths parted again, and quickly, they got lost in their lust and each other's eyes.

She sped up, their skin beginning to slap together, sounding across the room but still drowning in their moans and mewls. As their pleasure began to build up inside their guts, their hands traveled without a set destination, wanting to feel as much as they could.

A gasp left Hero's lips as Villain's shaft hit the right spot, and she angled herself, focusing on it and moving even faster, her breasts bouncing in rhythm with her rapid pace. Thrust after thrust, their breathing swiftly turned shaky, chaotic. Their minds grew frantic as their orgasms approached them.

The hero's head tilted back, and she tightly held onto the villain's shoulders as release washed over her. His name left her lips in a low moan that echoed in his head, and it didn't take long for him to come as well, Hero's name leaving him in an identical manner.

Coming down from their highs, they slowed down, enjoying the pleasure for a bit longer with some calm thrusts and movements. They locked in a soft, short kiss before eventually parting and coming to a stop. Together they gasped for air and took a moment to rest as sweat dripped down their bodies.

Once she had regained some energy, Hero slid off Villain, making them both shudder at the feeling. She collapsed on the bed beside him, and soon, he copied her, lying down next to her. The two remained like that for a few minutes, calming their racing hearts and basking in the afterglow.

A small chuckle caught the villain's attention, and he turned his head towards the hero. She gave him a lazy smile before explaining her giddiness. "Looks like we'll need another shower."

He gave her a chuckle of his own before an idea crossed his mind. "Well, I do have a jacuzzi tub..."

With a grin that Hero considered too charming for Villain's own good, he offered, "Wanna take a bath together~?"

She giggled fondly. "Sure."

And then, together, off they went to get cleaned up again.

[hotshotsxyz]

like it means something

buddie (2.8k) (read it on ao3)

Evan. His own name won’t stop rattling around in his head. Evan.

He brings Eddie home from the hospital and everything’s - not okay, Eddie still got hurt and Buck still had to watch it and Bobby’s still hurt too, but - they’re getting there. No one died, and that’s a hell of a lot better than it could’ve been. No one died.

Evan.

Eddie kisses Chris’s forehead and Buck grins wide, because yeah, of course he would take care of him if the worst happened, but this is what Christopher deserves. His family, alive and whole and well.

Taylor’s there. Of course she is, Buck’s mind supplies, you asked her to be. She’s your friend. More than a friend? Buck doesn’t know. There’s a lot to unpack there, and with everything else that’s happened, they haven’t had the time. It’s a conversation for another day.

Abuela, Pepa and Carla each take their turn fussing over Eddie and then, to Buck’s surprise, him too. He doesn’t understand why. Eddie got shot, not him. Eddie’s the one who hasn’t been home in a week, not him. Eddie -

Evan.

Buck’s at a loss. It’s a party of sorts, but Eddie’s exhausted and so is he. Buck feels completely wrung out, and he can see the tension in Eddie’s expression that says he does too. He wants to tell everyone else to leave, but it isn’t his place. Still, though, Taylor seems to get the hint first. She pulls him aside with a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“I’m going to head out. Is there anything you need?” she asks.

Buck shakes his head mutely.

“Just... get some rest, okay? I know you want to take care of him, but you’re not the only one who can.” She presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then heads over to where Eddie and Ana are seated at the dining room table to make her excuses.

Taylor is half right and half wrong. There are other people that can take care of Eddie, but Buck won’t be able to rest unless he’s nearby.

Evan.

Abuela and Pepa leave next, citing the sinking sun and the growing weariness in Eddie’s movements. They each kiss him on the cheek and go with the promise to return in the morning. Abuela’s left behind enough food to feed an army for a week, stacked in the fridge in carefully labeled Tupperware.

Then Carla goes and it’s just Eddie, Ana, Buck and Chris.

Evan.

Buck should probably go, he knows, but he can’t quite bring himself to. He knows Eddie’s okay, has the living proof sitting right in front of him, but the second he looks away all the tension of the week returns, the fear and anxiety mixing sickeningly in his stomach.

Christopher has fallen asleep in Eddie’s lap, head tucked into his good shoulder. Eddie himself is fighting yawns. It’s been a long day.

Finally, it’s Ana who breaks the silence, standing and pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “Get some rest,” she says. “And text me if you need anything.”

It’s virtually the same thing Taylor said to him, and it strikes Buck as odd. They’ve been together, what, six months now? She should be saying more. Maybe she’s not because he’s here. Buck still can’t bring himself to leave.

Evan.

Neither of them has moved in the minutes since Ana left, but Eddie’s eyes are starting to drift and Buck knows he needs to sleep.

“Let me take Chris,” he says softly.

The grateful nod Eddie gives him is a testament to just how tired he really is.

Buck picks him up carefully and carries him to bed. He tucks him in and presses a kiss into his forehead. Once upon a time, he might’ve wondered if that was his place. Not now, though, not after everything Eddie said. He loves this kid like his own; he’s not going to pretend it’s anything less.

Evan.

He flicks the light out and makes sure Chris’s night light is on before gently shutting the door. Wordlessly, he returns to Eddie’s side.

There’s a grimace of pain on Eddie’s face that hadn’t been there before, and a quick glance at the clock tells Buck that he’s way past due for another round of medication. He grabs the pills and a bottle of water from the kitchen.

“The doctor said I can give you ibuprofen, too, if this isn’t enough.”

Eddie shakes his head minutely. “No, this is okay.” He swallows the pills Buck offers him dry, then washes them down with a swig of water.

“You need to sleep,” Buck says. “I should-“

“Stay, please?” Eddie interrupts him.

And how could Buck say no to that?

Evan.

Buck’s barely asleep when he hears Eddie cry out. He’s on his feet in a second and by Eddie’s side in less.

Eddie’s asleep still, but his face is scrunched and he’s curled in on himself like he’s trying to make himself smaller. Buck places a hand on his leg and shakes him gently.

Eddie shoots up, hissing in pain and clutching his shoulder. His eyes dart wildly around the room, unseeing.

“Hey, hey, just a dream, you’re okay,” Buck says.

Eddie’s eyes are wide with fear as they meet Buck’s. He sucks in a ragged, shuddering breath, then sags.

“I- you. You were- fuck,” Eddie stutters, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Buck repeats. He pulls Eddie to his chest. “You’re okay.”

Buck rocks them back and forth gently as his shirt slowly grows wet with Eddie’s tears.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Eddie gasps against him. Buck just holds him tighter.

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, “I’ve got you.”

Eventually, Eddie pulls back, wiping his eyes with his good hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Buck asks after a moment.

Eddie shakes his head but begins to speak anyway. “It was- I saw you, covered in blood and I couldn’t... couldn’t move, or, or help you. And- and then you were coughing up blood, just like at the party, and I tried, Buck I tried but it was like I was stuck in quicksand and I couldn’t-“ Eddie’s breathing has gone ragged again, so Buck grabs his hand.

“Me?” he can’t help but ask.

“Evan,” Eddie says, so tenderly it hurts.

Evan.

They fall asleep curled together, Eddie’s hand resting over Buck’s heart. It’s the first decent sleep Buck’s had since the shooting.

They don’t talk about it the next day, mostly because Buck doesn’t know what to say. He suspects Eddie doesn’t either.

Instead, much to Christopher’s delight, Buck makes pancakes. The three of them eat together on the couch, watching some cartoon that Chris seems interested in and Buck’s never seen before. It’s so painfully normal. Buck was terrified he’d never get to have this again, and now that he does he can’t shake the feeling that the other shoe is going to drop.

Evan.

That night, Eddie wordlessly pulls Buck into his bedroom. They lay facing each other in the dark. Buck wants nothing more than to bridge the gap between them, but it might as well be the Grand Canyon.

There’s not much light in the room, just the ambient glow of the city filtering in through the cracks in the blinds. It’s enough to see Eddie’s face by, but it doesn’t help Buck read his inscrutable expression. He eventually gives up trying and closes his eyes.

He’s stiff, and sleep evades him. If Eddie’s shifting is any indication, he’s still awake too. Finally, Eddie heaves a sigh and, to Buck’s surprise, wraps a hand around Buck’s wrist and pulls. Buck opens his eyes and sees the silent question in Eddie’s.

Is this okay?

Buck presses himself into Eddie’s space without hesitation.

Evan.

Eddie has a doctor’s appointment the next day, and Buck’s agreed to meet Taylor for coffee after dropping him off. Carla’s with Chris for the day, to help him with school, leaving Buck with a free hour on his hands for the first time in over a week.

His stomach has been in knots all morning. He’s not sure if it’s the prospect of letting Eddie out of his sight for the first time since he’s been home, or the conversation he knows he’s about to have with Taylor.

Because he’s thought about it, and the idea of being with Taylor… he’s kidding himself. Before, maybe. But now, after, with the mess of feelings he has twisting in his chest - he’s not in a place to start something new. He’s not even sure he wants it - her - anymore. Taylor’s great, but she could never fill the hole that was punched in his chest by the same bullet that tore through Eddie’s shoulder.

He’s starting to wonder if he’ll spend the rest of his life dividing things into before and after.

Taylor’s already seated when he arrives, fingers wrapped around a cardboard coffee cup that’s still steaming. Buck almost expected to change his mind when he saw her, to suddenly remember why he was interested in the first place, but mostly he’s just anxious to get back to Eddie. He doesn’t even really feel the old curl of attraction he’s used to. He sits in front of her, suppressing a sigh.

Taylor looks up at him, wearing an expression he can’t quite decipher. “Buck,” she says.

Evan.

“Hey, Taylor.”

“You don’t want coffee?” She asks, inclining her cup towards him.

Buck shakes his head. “Had some this morning,” he shrugs. “Don’t want to get jittery.”

Taylor frowns slightly, but doesn’t say anything.

They sit in awkward silence for what feels like an eternity before Buck finally breaks it.

“Look, Taylor,” he sighs. “There’s a lot going on right now, and I just… whatever this thing is between us, I’m not sure I have the space to figure it out. You deserve someone who’s all in, and I just can’t be right now.”

Taylor blows out a breath. “Oh thank god,” she says.

And that’s… unexpected. Buck raises a brow.

“You’re my friend, and I care so much about you, but I- I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do with it, so I told myself it was something else.” Taylor doesn’t look him in the eye. “All this earnestness is making me nauseous,” she jokes weakly.

Buck huffs out a short laugh. The tightly wound anxiety in his gut loosens, just a bit. “Friends, then?”

Taylor finally looks at him and smiles. “Friends,” she agrees.

“How was coffee?” Eddie asks. He’s looked vaguely constipated since Buck picked him up, but insists that his appointment went fine.

“Good,” Buck replies honestly. “We’re on the same page.” He’s driving, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie’s face do something complicated.

“Good,” he says. “That’s good.” There’s a beat of silence. “So you’re… together, then?”

Buck glances at Eddie, whose eyes are fixed on the road ahead of them. His expression is carefully neutral, but tight around the edges. Buck huffs a soft breath. “Nah,” he says. “End of the day it wasn’t what either of us wanted.”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Eddie’s posture. “Oh. I, uh- are you okay with that?”

Buck chuckles lightly at that. “Yeah, Eds. Pretty sure I’ve got everything I need right now.”

Evan.

Sleeping in the same bed at night becomes something of a habit, just like not talking about it does. It’s not that Buck doesn’t want to. He’s just… not sure how. What do you say when you’ve got so many feelings that you can’t even begin to decipher them, and the only thing you know for sure is that the thought of letting your best friend out of sight for more than a few minutes sends you careening towards a panic attack? There’s not exactly a greeting card for that.

This song and dance, though, it’s familiar. Comforting, in its own way. They’ve always flirted with the line between friendship and more, daring to put a toe over it, but never to take an actual step. Buck can’t help but wonder if this is a step, and they’re both just too chickenshit to admit it.

Evan.

“Where’s Ana?” Buck asks one morning, apropos of nothing. “I would’ve expected to see her around more often.”

Eddie stiffens. “We, uh, we broke up.”

Buck whirls around, nearly flinging egg against the backsplash. “When?”

“After the party.” Eddie shrugs uncomfortably.

Buck’s eyebrows raise. “I’ve been with you 24/7 since then,” he says. The question is obvious.

Eddie rubs a hand through his hair and frowns sheepishly. “I… texted her?”

Buck’s jaw drops. “You ended a 6-month relationship, a week after you got shot, over text?”

“In my defense, I was on a lot of painkillers. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Buck can’t help but laugh, throwing his head back. After a moment, Eddie joins in.

“That,” Buck says between giggles, “was not cool, man!”

“Nope,” Eddie agrees.

It’s the best either of them has felt in weeks.

The night after Buck’s first shift back at the station, Eddie has the worst nightmare he’s had since that first night. It takes Buck three tries to wake him, and the glassy look in his eyes remains far longer than he’d like.

“Please be careful,” Eddie says finally. “You have to- I can’t-“

“I promise,” Buck says, holding him tight to his chest.

Evan.

It’s Buck’s own nightmare that brings things to a head.

He’s been sleeping surprisingly peacefully since Eddie’s return home, but when the nightmares do return, they’re the worst he’s had.

He dreams he’s stuck beneath the firetruck, white-hot pain radiating up his leg, watching helplessly as Eddie bleeds out in front of him. Eddie tries to drag himself to Buck, but each pull makes the wound gush even more blood. Buck tries to yell for him to stop, but he can’t make his jaw work.

He finally wrenches it open, only to find himself sitting bolt upright in bed. His throat feels raw, like he’s been screaming, and Eddie’s hand is clutching his forearm. He knows where he is, but the panic from his dream isn’t receding. It grows louder and louder, until finally, Eddie’s voice cuts through.

“Evan!” He says sharply. “You’re okay, you’re fine. You’re in my room, with me. We’re both okay.”

Buck sags and falls back against the pillow, willing his breathing to slow. “You keep saying that,” he whispers in the dark.

“What?”

“My name. Like it means something.”

“It does,” Eddie says. “Every single piece of you matters.”

And Buck… Buck almost believes him.

Evan.

The elephant in the room grows larger every day, but still, they don’t talk about it. For all intents and purposes, Buck lives at Eddie’s. It’s been months. Eddie doesn’t physically need his help anymore, but neither is willing to let the other go. With Eddie’s return date drawing nearer, though, it’s getting harder to ignore.

Buck doesn’t want to ask, but he has to. He’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop since practically the first night, and he can’t take it anymore. He decides to soften the blow with pancakes.

“I should probably go back to my apartment,” he says, as casually as he can manage, as if the words don’t feel like ripping his still-beating heart out of his chest. Buck tries not to examine that feeling too closely.

“You need something?” Eddie asks, like it hasn’t even occurred to him that Buck might not come back.

“No, I-“

“Oh,” Eddie says. His expression goes carefully blank.

“I just-“ Buck tries to explain.

Eddie holds up a hand forestalling him. “I get it,” he says. “It’s fine.”

Buck swallows, ignoring the voice in his head that says definitively that it’s not.

Evan.

Buck’s out the door, duffle in hand, when Eddie stops him.

“Buck, wait,” he says, “Evan!”

Buck drops his bag in surprise and turns, only to find Eddie much closer than he expected.

“Don’t go,” Eddie says in a rush. “Stay, please. I need you here. With me.”

Buck gapes at him, as slowly the knot of emotions in his chest begins to unravel. The string that encircles the edges, that one he knows well: fear. The one beneath it: anger, at the sniper and the universe for hurting Eddie all over again. Hope and devastation intermingle, while grief lay coiled off to the side.

And the string that runs through the middle, holding it all together… that’s love.

Oh.

Buck gets it now.

He takes a step forward, closing the minuscule gap between him and Eddie. “I don’t want to go,” he whispers.

“Then don’t.”

Buck kisses him, soft and sweet. A promise, one which Eddie returns in kind.

There’re still a million things to talk about, but for once in his life, Evan Buckley is pretty sure he has all the words he needs.

[fandom-monium]

fuck shit i loved unrivaled but can we please get jealous reader? like maybe everyones on a mission and spencer has to flirt with someone?? the target??? thank you keep doing what you do!! <3

Established Relationship Rivalry

Summary: In which you really don't like Spencer talking to other girls... or assassins. "Shut your mouth, before I do it for you."

WC: 1.8k

TW: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, Jealous!Reader, companion piece to Unrivaled but not a sequel, pining (?), fluff and angst(?), established relationships RIVALRY, more reader-centric sorry, ft. Entropy Cat Adams that bitch (derogatory), a darker side of Mysterious!Reader comes to light

⏤

You sit at the bar a few seats down from JJ, watching Spencer at the corner of your eye as he puts on a show of settling into the velvet booth. 

The restaurant is fancy, the kind you take your significant other, or in this case, invite your ‘high end’ date to gain their trust, lure them in. Your vision swims at its dark red scheme and slightly dim lights, but it’s not too much that you don’t notice how good Spencer looks in his new suit, something he’s recently taken up. The blazer’s dark against his light skin, his purple tie is in a lopsided knot, and he even combed his hair a little. 

You sigh. If only you weren’t on the job, you’d stare as much as you’d want. It seems you’re not the only one who’s noticed either, surrounding patrons stealing glances at Spencer despite most of them with company.

You decide suits might be your favorite on him. It’s definitely up there.

But as the wine glass threatens to crack between your fingers, you weigh the possibility that maybe⏤just maybe⏤you should reel in your emotions, because you might actually get yourself kicked off the operation.

Now, you’re not jealous. Seriously.

This isn’t jealousy. Spencer and you aren’t even like that. Like, yeah you care about each other (more than what would be considered platonic), but you’re not together together, and there’s certainly not this weird, unspoken agreement that neither of you are to be ‘involved’ with others. Because that would imply you have feelings. More specifically, non-platonic feelings for someone you’re just not ready to admit to.

Then Catherine Adams enters the arena.

Her strides are short, almost dainty, and if you were a less experienced profiler you’d think that she was a normal woman, shy and awkward as any first date would be.

But you know each footstep is calculated, controlled. A perfected facade built on years of practice.

Other than respecting her abilities, you don’t know how to feel about her. From what little you guys could gather from her file, she is little… psycho.

So no, you’re not jealous. 

You’re not jealous when she exchanges shy smiles with Spencer. 

You’re not jealous when she invades his personal bubble. Or when she gropes him for his gun.

No, this isn’t jealousy that burns in your stomach. Oh no no no.

This is fury, your eyes stinging with barely contained rage. And as you imagine the eight different ways you could amputate Adam’s hands with a butterknife (there’s plenty within arms length, you could reach it), it takes Hotch’s stern voice for you to lower it to a simmer.

“(Your Name), calm down,” he crackles into your earpiece.

Hoping to dissuade from yourself, you cover a sickly sweet smile behind your glass, your canines glinting in the light. “Hotch, please, I’m the epitome of calm and collected.”

“We can literally see your teeth grinding on cams, and if we can see it, Cat Adam’s will too⏤”

You huff.

“Now calm down. You look more like a disgruntled divorcee than a satisfied customer.”

Okay, harsh. You almost reply indignantly before you catch JJ’s gaze, her blue eyes warm with enough understanding that it makes your shoulders relax. As much as you appreciate her, you’re supposed to be strangers in this restaurant. She can’t even mouth to you without giving you both away, blowing your covers⏤

“...tell Blondie McBlonderson over there at the bar to disappear.”

⏤cover. Welp. There goes that plan.

Immediately you lower your gaze to the rim of your glass, keeping the bitch in your peripheral as JJ clenches her jaw and slides off her stool, trudging off to the kitchen. It’s a chess match; Cat picks each of you off as if you’re pawns, sacrificial pieces, bait, until the restaurant is clear and Morgan, Lewis, and you remain. Gun raised, you try not to sneer as Lewis cuffs the Bomber’s hands behind her back, leading her and the civilians outside. 

“Guess we’re right back where we started. You and me with a gun,” Adams huffs, her tone betraying nothing. Your anger spikes as she grips Reid like a human shield. “Although, I didn’t think I’d get the chance to see you.” She stares across the room at Morgan…and you.

She’s looking directly at you.

You frown. “Do I know you?”

Adams snorts, adjusting Reid in front of her, “No, I guess not. Last time we met was years ago, and you were a whole other person at the time. I barely even recognized you.” Her eyes trail over your figure, and your skin crawls as her lips stretch into a cruel smile. A threat. “But you never forget your first, right?”

Oh. Oh.

Oh no.

In the blink of an eye, you pull the hammer of your firearm, its click echoing through the empty restaurant louder than it should have. Your lips pull back in a snarl, “Shut your mouth, before I do it for you.” 

Her response: a cheshire grin in return.

Huh. You hadn’t used that tone in what feels like forever, your voice laced with the promise of silence and death. It doesn’t feel as foreign as you hoped, and the realization wrenches your gut as you pretend not to notice Reid and Morgan’s scrutinizing gaze, eyes full of questions. Questions you really don’t want to answer. Not now.

Preferably not ever.

So you redirect everyone’s attention back to the situation at hand. It takes little prompting, considering Adams is holding a gun to Reid’s face, and it’s not long when Morgan convinces her to surrender. Like a shadow, you trail behind Morgan as Reid hauls her to the prison transport, your eyes burning a hole in the back of her head.

As Reid steps away, as he quietly settles next to you, before Morgan shuts the truck’s double doors Adams catches your eye. Her eyes glisten as her body shudders from hiccups. But she grins at you, wide enough to make your stomach squirm.

You flip her the bird in return.  

For the rest of the night you act natural, keeping your head down. You don’t leave right away, because nothing screams ‘something’s wrong’ than ditching everyone, so you passively agree to check on Garcia despite your grim mood. But at the sight of her, inebriated as she aggressively tells everyone how she loves them⏤loves you⏤you can’t help the tiny smile that spreads across your face (mostly because she’s pinching your cheeks). 

Even if she doesn’t mean to, Garcia manages to brighten your day, and you love her more for that.

After bidding your farewells (swallowing when Morgan shoots you a look that says, ‘this isn’t over’), you walk side by side with Reid, trudging through the tense atmosphere until you realize with a tight chest: he escorted you to your car. For a moment, you both stand at the driver’s side door, a beat of silence passing as you shakily pull out your keys. 

His hands, stuffed in his pockets, clench and unclench as his jaw sets. He’s yet to look you in the eye but you know, and for once you pray⏤to the universe, to whatever deities are out there, to Karma⏤that he’ll let this go, drop the subject. Hopefully never bring it up.

But this is Spencer we’re talking about. He’s your… friend. He’s confused and concerned and he wants to help some way, somehow.

So as you unlock your car, as his lips part, you don’t give him the chance, shoving away your dread. 

“You wanna get dinner?” It comes rushed, fear trickling into your voice. You hope he doesn’t notice. (He does.)

Spencer blinks at you, his mouth agape. “What?”

“It’s just,” You lick your lips, tugging thick air into your lungs as your body screams to run. Your eyes dart from his, looking at the ground, your car, the scuffs on your shoes, and you hate yourself, knowing Spencer notices all of it. “It’s a shame we didn’t get the chance to eat at that expensive restaurant, ya know? It was paid for too.”

Please, don’t ask. Please, don’t ask. 

“...That’s true.” His tone is scarily neutral. 

Looking up, you’re taken aback as he turns away to round the hood of your car to the passenger side door. “What do you think of thai for tonight?” 

You stammer a response, something along the lines of ‘uh⏤yeah, sounds good’ as you clamber into the car after him, fumbling to insert your key into the ignition. Your nerves only worsen by the second as you drive off into the dark, the only sounds coming from the rev of the engine and your heart thundering in your ears. Up ahead the traffic light changes, slowing you to a stop. You glance at Spencer, his purple tie red from the light, his side profile softly outlined in its harsh glow. He remains deathly quiet.

The silent treatment, huh. If he thinks reverse psychology is going to work on you...

He’d be absolutely right. His silence is deafening.

You turn to him, “Spencer⏤”

“You don’t have to.” Your breath catches in your throat, his lips parting and closing as he stumbles for the right words, “I mean, not right now. I-I know this isn’t the best time, but at some point we’re going to have to talk about it. So whenever you’re ready, I⏤” He clears his throat, twisting in his seat and meeting your eyes. His eyes gleam, earnest even in the dark. 

“We’ll be here for you.”

You can’t help gawking at him. Because Spencer’s eyes are inquisitive and kind⏤always have been⏤but right now they’re trained on you, and your face burns as your heart swells. You’re suffocating.

Because you want to tell him⏤all of them.

But fear clutches your heart.

White-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, you face the road again, blinking through unshed tears. “Thank you.”

Spencer nods, relaxing back into his seat. You’re relieved your answer’s enough for now.

The light turns green and you speed off. The grim night turns a little brighter as you fall back into routine with Spencer, the tension slowly lifting, your stomach, once filled with lead, now stuffed with thai food.

You’ll deal with Cat Adams later. She’s behind bars, so you doubt it’ll be anytime soon. You laugh as Spencer curses, soiling another pair of chopsticks when they hit the floor. Yes, you’ll deal with her when you’re ready.

That is, until you’re stopped by another red light.

⏤

AN: no cap i hesitated posting this because i realized after finishing its less of a Spencer Reid x Reader and more a reader-centric. i wanted to establish that reader has a whole backstory sorryyyy i hope yall like it anyway :)))

if you didnt notice, unless stated otherwise almost all my oneshots and FtH are tied together by Mysterious!Reader. yall dont have to but if you read them it helps understand reader better??