#the way he sticks his butt out first kills me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dippindaz · 2 months ago

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Munson's Little Sister Part 2 - Billy x Reader

Here is part 2 :) I hope everyone enjoys

You can find the masterlist here

Warnings: Kissing, butt grabbing, slight(?) hair pulling, blood mentioned

The gym is packed, the energy buzzing with the kind of excitement only high school sports can generate. Students crowd the bleachers, some actually invested in the game, others just here for the social aspect. The cheerleaders lead a chant, their voices barely cutting through the roar of the crowd, and the scent of popcorn and sweat hangs in the air.

You and Robin manage to find seats toward the middle of the bleachers, wedged between a group of excitable underclassmen and a couple making out like they’re in the privacy of their own home.

“God, kill me now,” Robin mutters, grimacing as she shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

You smirk, but your focus is elsewhere. Your eyes scan the court, searching almost unconsciously until they land on him.

He’s in his element, moving across the court with that effortless, cocky confidence. His jersey clings to him, curls damp from sweat, a permanent smirk playing on his lips. Every time he makes a shot, the crowd loses it, girls in the stands cheering his name.

You tell yourself you’re just watching the game like everyone else. That it has nothing to do with the fact that Billy’s playing in it or that this is the first time he’s looked at all day.

As if sensing your gaze, Billy’s eyes flick up to the bleachers, scanning until they land on you. His smirk widens just a fraction, and for a second, it feels like the whole gym narrows to just the two of you.

Then he winks.

You tear your gaze away, heat creeping to your cheeks. Robin, oblivious to your internal chaos, nudges you with her elbow.

“This game is so stupid,” she groans. “Why do people get so worked up over—” She follows your line of sight, her expression shifting. “Wait. Were you just—oh my God, were you looking at Hargrove?”

Your head snaps toward her. “No.”

Robin narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Uh-huh. Right.”

You shove a handful of popcorn into your mouth to avoid answering.

Robin huffs. “You know he’s an ass, right?”

“Obviously.” You don’t need another person reminding you of that.

Robin gives you one last side-eye before turning back to the game. You try to focus on not looking at Billy, but his constant glances your way are hard to ignore.

And the worst part?

You really didn’t mind it.

The final buzzer sounds, and the gym erupts into cheers as Hawkins secures the win. The team celebrates on the court, clapping each other on the back, while the crowd starts to filter out of the bleachers.

Robin stretches, groaning dramatically. “Thank God that’s over. Now we can get to the real reason I agreed to come—harassing Steve.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Go ahead, I’ll catch up in a minute.”

Robin gives you a questioning look but shrugs. “Alright. Try not to get lost in the crowd.” She disappears into the sea of students, leaving you standing near the edge of the bleachers.

You let out a slow breath, glancing toward the court. Most of the players have already started heading back to the locker room, but one hasn’t.

Billy.

He’s still out there, still sweaty, still smug, and worst of all, looking right at you.

You barely have time to process before he’s striding over, pushing past a couple of lingering students until he’s right in front of you.

He’s Close.

He’s too close.

The scent of sweat and cheap cologne lingers in the air between you, and his skin glistens under the gym lights. His curls are damp, strands sticking to his forehead, but he doesn’t seem to care. His smirk is firmly in place, and his eyes gleam with something dangerous.

“Well?” he drawls, tilting his head. “Enjoy the show?”

You cross your arms, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral. “It was fine.”

Billy lets out a short chuckle, clearly entertained. “Just fine? C’mon, Princess. I thought you’d be a little more fun than that.”

You roll your eyes. “Shouldn’t you be off celebrating with the rest of the team?”

He grins. “I’d rather celebrate with you.”

Your stomach flips, but you keep your face blank. “Not happening.”

Billy clicks his tongue. “That’s too bad. I was gonna invite you to the afterparty.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And what made you think I’d say yes?”

His smirk widens, and he leans in just slightly—still enough to feel his warm breath against your skin.

“Promise I won’t bite,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing. Then, with an infuriating pause, he adds, “Unless you want me to.”

Your breath catches, but you don’t move back. You should, but you don’t. Billy watches you carefully, eyes scanning your face like he’s waiting for something. He knows he’s getting to you.

He leans back just a fraction, giving you space—but not much. “So?” he asks, expectant.

You hesitate. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. But the words are leaving your mouth before you can stop them. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Billy grins, victorious. “Knew you would.”

Before you can turn away, he tilts his head, studying you for a second before adding, “Wait for me after. I’ll drive.”

Your stomach twists. “What? No, I can—”

Billy raises an eyebrow, already smirking like he knew you’d argue. “C’mon, sweetheart. You really wanna show up to a party with Harrington and his little sidekick?”

You glare at him. “Robin is not his sidekick.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

You cross your arms, searching for an out, but Billy steps closer, voice dropping just enough to make your skin prickle.

“Just let me drive you,” he says smoothly. “It’ll be fun.”

You swallow. You should say no. You really should. But the way he’s looking at you—like he’s already won—makes your stubborn streak flare up.

“Fine,” you mutter, averting your gaze. “Whatever.”

Billy grins, triumphant. “Good girl.”

Your breath catches, and he knows it.

��Meet me out front,” he says, then turns on his heel and walks off, leaving you standing there with a racing pulse, butterflies in your stomach, and an absolutely terrible feeling in your chest.

The parking lot is mostly empty by the time you step outside. The cool night air nips at your skin as you scan the lot, your stomach twisting in anticipation—whether from excitement or nerves, you can’t tell.

And then you see it.

Billy’s Camaro is parked near the edge of the lot, headlights off, but he’s there, leaning casually against the driver’s side door, arms crossed over his chest. His hair is damp from the post-game shower, and his Hawkins jersey is swapped out for a fitted black t-shirt. He looks annoyingly good.

He notices you immediately. A slow smirk creeps onto his lips as he pushes off the car and meets you halfway. “Thought you were gonna stand me up,” he muses.

You scoff, shifting your weight. “Tempting.”

Billy tuts, shaking his head. “That’d be rude, sweetheart.” He gestures toward the car. “C’mon. Get in.”

You hesitate for only a second before exhaling sharply and moving toward the passenger side. The door creaks slightly as you pull it open, and the scent of cigarettes, cheap cologne, and something undeniably him fills your nose the second you slide in. The leather seats are cool against your skin, and when Billy climbs in beside you, the car suddenly feels much smaller.

The engine roars to life, vibrating beneath you as Billy shifts into gear. “You ever been to a real party before?” he asks, drumming his fingers against the wheel as he pulls out of the lot.

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Billy.”

He glances at you, amused. “Lemme guess—some little gathering with Munson and his band of losers?”

You glare at him. “They’re not losers.”

Billy snorts, eyes back on the road. “Right.”

Silence stretches between you. Outside, the streetlights blur past, and you find yourself absently tracing the curve of your knee, hyper-aware of the warmth radiating off of Billy beside you.

“So,” he says, breaking the quiet, “what made you change your mind?”

You blink. “What?”

“About tonight,” Billy clarifies. “Couple days ago, you wanted nothing to do with me.” He glances at you again, smirk teasing at his lips. “Now here you are, in my car, lettin’ me take you to a party.”

Your face heats. “I—” You fumble for an answer, something that isn’t the truth. That you’d been thinking about him too much. That some stupid part of you wanted to be here.

Billy chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice dripping with something both smooth and dangerous. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, smirk deepening. “Unless, of course, you don’t want me to.”

Your breath catches.

Billy just grins, clearly pleased with himself, and returns his focus to the road, leaving you sitting there, heart pounding.

The house is already packed by the time Billy pulls up, the muffled thump of music vibrating through the car windows. A few kids linger outside, passing around drinks and cigarettes, laughter spilling into the warm night air. You spot a couple of familiar faces—mostly people from school you don’t talk to much—but before you can think too hard about it, Billy kills the engine and turns to you.

“You look nervous,” he observes, smirking.

You huff, shifting in your seat. “I’m not nervous.”

Billy raises a brow. “No?” He leans in slightly, resting an arm on the back of your seat. “Then why’re you still sittin’ here?”

Your fingers tighten around your bag strap. Truthfully, you don’t know. Maybe because this feels like a bad idea, like the kind of thing that could change things. But you’re already here, and the way Billy’s looking at you, like he’s got you all figured out.

Maybe it’s your pride, or maybe you just want him to like you that badly. Regardless, you lift your chin and push open the door. “You coming?” you throw over your shoulder.

Billy chuckles, stepping out after you. “That’s more like it.”

Inside, the party is loud and hazy, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the sharp scent of cheap beer. Someone’s already half-passed out on the couch, and a group near the kitchen is shouting over a drinking game. You spot Robin and Steve by the stereo, deep in conversation, but before you can head their way, Billy’s hand brushes against the small of your back.

“C’mon,” he says, voice low by your ear. “Let’s get a drink.”

You hesitate. “I don’t—”

Billy tilts his head, eyes glinting. “Relax, princess. Just one.”

Against your better judgment, you follow him toward the kitchen, where he grabs a bottle and twists it open before handing it to you. “Go on,” he urges, watching as you take a tentative sip.

It’s stronger than you expect, and you cough, grimacing. Billy laughs, leaning against the counter. “Not a fan?”

You shoot him a glare but take another sip anyway. “It’s fine.”

Billy’s grin lingers as he watches you, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Y’know,” he muses, “didn’t think I’d get you here.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, glancing around. “I’m full of surprises.”

Billy hums, clearly amused. “Guess we’ll see about that.”

Before you can ask what that means, someone calls Billy’s name, you barely have time to register it before Billy straightens, rolling his shoulders like a boxer stepping into the ring. A couple of guys from the basketball team wave him over, drinks in hand, already hyping him up over the game.

Billy tilts his head toward you. “Go have some fun, dollface. I’ll find you later.”

Before you can respond, he’s gone, swallowed by the crowd.

You exhale, your eyebrows knitting together as you glance around. You shouldn’t feel disappointed. You shouldn’t be wondering when later is.

Don’t let it bother you. But it does. So does the noise and lack of familiarity at this party. Your eyes scan the room for Robin. But you’re sure she didn’t stick around; she isn’t the partying type. If Steve’s here, he’s probably got his tongue halfway down Nancy’s throat right now and that’s a sight you don’t want to see. So really, you’re just looking for someone that you know.

You weave through the crowd, dodging drunken conversations and the occasional sloshing cup of beer. The air inside is thick with cigarette smoke and sweat, the music pounding against your skull like a second heartbeat. You don't know why you thought this would be fun. You don’t even drink. And as much as you shouldn’t care, Billy being whisked away so quickly—like he didn’t just go out of his way to bring you here—leaves an odd taste in your mouth.

With a sigh, you push through a side door and step outside onto the back porch. The night air is a relief, crisp and cool against your flushed skin. It’s quieter here, the party noise muffled behind the walls, leaving only the occasional chatter of a few couples further down the porch. But they’re lost in their own worlds, paying you no mind.

You lean against the wooden railing, letting yourself breathe, finally taking a moment to process why you’re even here. It wasn’t for the party. It wasn’t for Steve, or Robin, or anyone else. It was for him.

And you hate that.

A shiver crawls up your spine, whether from the cold or the realization itself, you’re not sure. You should leave. Walk home, convince someone to drive you, whatever it is. You shouldn’t be here. It was stupid.

“Didn’t peg you for the party type,” a voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

You glance over, instantly recognizing one of the guys from the basketball team. You don’t know his name, but he’s got that same cocky air as the rest of them.

You shrug. “Not usually.”

He smirks. "Didn’t think Hargrove would let you out of his sight."

Your stomach twists at that. "He doesn’t own—" you start, but Brandon cuts you off with a chuckle.

"Please, everyone saw you walk in with him. Pretty sure that means you’re his for the night."

Something about the way he says it—like you’re some kind of prize—grates against your nerves. You push off the railing, ready to leave, but his hand finds your arm, not rough, but firm enough to make your muscles tense.

"Relax, I’m just messing with you," he says, but his fingers don’t move.

Before you can shake him off, before you can even open your mouth—

"Didn’t realize I had to keep a leash on you, sweetheart."

Billy’s voice is smooth, easy, but there’s nothing relaxed about the way he steps between you and the other guy, his presence heavy, suffocating. His eyes flick down to the guy’s hand still on your arm.

He releases you instantly. "Shit, man, I wasn’t—"

"Wasn’t what?" Billy cuts in, tilting his head. His smirk is lazy, almost amused, but you can see the sharpness beneath it. "Wasn’t tryin’ to steal my girl?"

He puts his hands up, stepping back. "Didn’t know she was off-limits, man. My bad."

Billy finally looks at you, possessiveness flickering behind his blue eyes. "She is."

Your breath catches. The words shouldn't mean anything. Shouldn’t make your pulse stutter the way it does.

The guy nods quickly, muttering some excuse before slipping back into the house, leaving you alone with Billy.

He turns to you then, stepping closer, his voice dropping lower. "Didn’t think I had to spell it out for people, but maybe I should."

Your lips part, but you don’t know what to say. You should be mad, should tell him off for acting like he owns you. But all you can think about is how close he is, how intense his gaze is on yours.

He leans in, just enough to make your breath hitch. "Careful who you let get close, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want anyone gettin’ the wrong idea."

The party doesn’t get any quieter, but Billy keeps close after that. Not in an obvious, possessive way—he’s not clinging to you, not throwing an arm around your shoulders—but he lingers nearby. Close enough that you can feel his presence no matter where you move in the house. Close enough that anyone thinking of striking up a conversation with you seems to reconsider after a single glance in his direction.

And maybe that should annoy you, but the longer you stay, the less you mind it.

You don’t see Robin or Steve, and with nothing but drunken teenagers around, you eventually settle against the wall near Billy as he leans on the counter, half-listening to some conversation between a few of his teammates. His beer dangles from his fingertips, barely sipped. His attention flicks to you every so often, eyes unreadable in the dim light of the kitchen.

It’s only when the party reaches the point where people are either stumbling or making out in every corner that Billy pushes off the counter and turns to you.

“C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

You blink up at him. “Yeah, probably a good idea.”

You follow him out, assuming you’ll be heading back home. But when you slide into the passenger seat of his Camaro and he pulls out of the driveway, he doesn’t head towards the trailer park. Instead, he takes a sharp turn out of town, toward the winding road that leads to the quarry.

You frown, glancing at him. “Uh, this isn’t the trailer park, Hargrove.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he mutters, one hand gripping the wheel, the other resting lazily on his thigh. “Figured I’d give you a break from babysitting Munson all night.”

“I don’t babysit Eddie,” you huff, crossing your arms.

Billy smirks, eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to the road. “Sure, you don’t.”

The drive is quiet after that. It’s late, the roads empty except for the occasional streetlamp casting long shadows over the pavement. The steady hum of the engine fills the space between you, and for once, Billy isn’t filling the silence with cocky remarks or teasing jabs.

By the time he pulls up near the edge of the quarry, the headlights bouncing off the rocky terrain, he looks… different. The ever-present smirk is gone, his usual sharp edges softened just a little.

You watch as he rolls his window down and kills the engine. Billy then leaned back against the seat with a sigh, tilting his head against the headrest. The moon casts a faint light over his face, highlighting the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tap against his knee like he’s trying to keep himself grounded.

For the first time, he looks… tired. Not just physically, but in a way that feels deeper, heavier.

You hesitate, then shift slightly toward him. “You okay?”

He scoffs, but there’s no real bite to it. “Yeah, just peachy.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really? ‘Cause you don’t seem like it.”

Billy exhales through his nose, drumming his fingers harder before finally going still. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, so quietly you almost miss it, he mutters, “Didn’t feel like goin’ home yet.”

You don’t ask why. You don’t have to. The weight behind those words is enough.

For once, you don’t try to analyze him, don’t try to pick apart his intentions. Instead, you lean your head back against the seat, mirroring him. “Yeah. I get that.”

And somehow, that’s enough.

The Camaro sits still, the night stretching around you, and for the first time, there’s no push and pull, no sharp edges between you. Just quiet understanding.

You’re not sure if this moment should feel so comfortable. Enjoyable. But it does. Because for once, he’s not playing games. He’s not smirking or teasing or trying to get under your skin. He’s just… Billy.

And you don’t entirely know what to do with that.

You hesitate for a moment before finally unbuckling your seatbelt and pushing the car door open. The night air is crisp and refreshing after the haze of beer and sweat from the party. Gravel crunches under your shoes as you step forward, glancing back at Billy, who hasn’t moved yet.

“You coming?” you ask.

Billy exhales through his nose, like he hadn’t actually planned on getting out. But after a beat, he reaches for the door handle and steps out, stretching his arms above his head before shutting the door behind him.

You walk a few steps ahead, stopping near the edge where the land slopes downward toward the still, dark water below. The only lights out here are the moon and stars, casting a pale glow over the rocks and rippling surface.

Billy comes up beside you, hands in his pockets, gazing out at the water. His shoulders slumped and an odd look in his eyes.

“You do this a lot?” you ask.

“What?”

“Disappear after a party. Drive off to the middle of nowhere.”

He smirks, but it’s faint, tired. “Maybe.” He kicks a loose rock, sending it skidding down toward the water. “Not much to do in this town besides drink, fight, or fuck. ‘Less you count this.”

“And what is ‘this’?”

“Nothin’,” he says, voice lower, almost contemplative. “Just a break.”

You look at him closer. His posture is loose, but there’s something weighed down about him, something he’s not saying. Maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s the late hour, or maybe it’s the fact that, for once, he’s not trying to impress or intimidate anyone.

“Rough day?” you ask softly.

Billy scoffs. “Rough year.”

You don’t know what to say to that. You don’t really know anything about Billy’s life, except that he showed up in Hawkins, all charm and arrogance, immediately claiming his place at the top of the food chain. But there’s more to him, that much is obvious.

“You ever just wanna get the hell outta here?” he asks suddenly, eyes still on the water.

The question surprises you. You’d never expect him to ask that. You clear your throat. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” you admit. “I mean, I’ve got responsibilities here, but if I had the chance? If things were different?” You huff out a small breath. “Yeah. I’d leave in a heartbeat.”

Billy nods slowly, like he already knew your answer. Like maybe he’s thought about it a million times himself.

He sighs and sits on the ground. “Sometimes I just need to get away. Don’t really got anywhere else to go.”

Something about the way he says it makes you pause. You don’t push, but you don’t change the subject either. You slowly move to sit beside him, your shoulders almost touching.

“Is it that bad?” you ask after a beat, your voice softer than before.

Billy doesn’t answer right away. For a moment you think he won’t. Then, finally, he lets out a short breath. “Yeah.”

You didn’t expect the honesty. Truthfully, you didn’t expect any of this. You didn’t even think Billy had a vulnerable side, much less that you’d ever see it.

The conversation dips into silence again, but it’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it feels… easy. Like you’re both just two people, stripped of whatever expectations everyone else puts on you. No reputations, no rumors. Just existing.

Billy shifts, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes, tapping one out before offering it to you.

You shake your head. “No, thanks.”

He shrugs, sticking one between his lips and lighting up. The orange glow flickers against his face as he inhales, then exhales slowly, smoke curling into the night air.

“You’re different than I thought you’d be,” he says suddenly.

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His lips twitch, almost like he’s amused by his own thoughts. “Figured you’d be a little more like your brother. Loud. Annoying as hell.”

You chuckle. “Thanks.”

Billy grins, tilting his head toward you. “Nah, I mean it. You’re… quiet. But not in a scared way. You just—” He exhales, looking away. “You think before you talk. Most people don’t do that.”

You’re not sure what to say to that. Because it sounds dangerously close to a compliment, and you don’t know what to do with Billy saying something that isn’t meant to rile you up.

Instead, you look back out at the water. “I should probably get home soon.”

Billy flicks the ash off his cigarette. “Yeah. Guess so.”

But neither of you move to stand. Instead, you rest your palms on the grass, leaning back. Out of the corner of your eye you can see him looking at you. You turn your head, meeting his gaze and it feels different. Like, he’s really seeing you, not just picking you apart for something to tease.

“What?” you ask, voice quieter than before.

Billy shakes his head, a slow smile tugging at his lips, but it’s not the usual arrogant one—it’s softer, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “Nothin’.”

“Liar.”

He huffs a short laugh but doesn’t give you a proper answer.

“You got plans tomorrow?” he asks after a beat.

You look back out to the water, butterflies beginning to form in your stomach. “Why?”

Billy shrugs. “Maybe I wanna see you again.”

It should sound like a line. It probably is a line. But the way he says it, the way his voice dips just slightly at the end, makes your heart flutter.

“You see me every day at school,” you say, attempting to keep your tone even.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t count.” His smirk deepens. “C’mon, princess. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You really want me to answer that?” You ask with a chuckle.

Billy laughs, shaking his head as he looks back at the water. He stubs out his cigarette on the ground.

“You know,” he starts, his voice quieter now, more contemplative than usual, “you’re not the only one who wants to keep things under control.”

You glance over at him, brows furrowed, but he’s not looking at you. His gaze is fixed on the quarry, the water stretching out under the moonlight, calm and still.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, your voice guarded.

Billy doesn’t answer immediately. He exhales slowly, as if trying to find the right words, and then finally looks at you. “You’ve got this thing where you think you can plan everything. But, hell, life doesn’t always work that way.”

You stare at him, feeling a tension build in your chest. You’re not sure how he can read you so easily. And for some reason, you think he isn’t just talking about you, rather, himself too.

“And what’s your point?” you challenge, though you’re not sure why. It’s not like you’re really mad at him. It’s just… uncomfortable. No one likes being called out.

Billy leans back against the seat, his eyes flicking toward the water again. “My point is, you don’t have to be perfect. You don’t always have to be the responsible one. Sometimes you gotta do something just for the hell of it.”

You can’t help but laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “You think I should just go off the rails like you, Hargrove?”

He smirks. “Nah. I’m not sayin’ you gotta be like me.” He pauses for a moment, a flicker of something in eyes. “But you can let go a little.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. The idea of letting go, of not being the one to keep everything in line, is terrifying. But there’s something about Billy’s easy confidence that pulls at you, tempting you to step into the unknown.

Billy nods toward the quarry, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. “You ever go in?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

"The water’s right there." He gestures lazily to the quarry, then looks at you, eyebrow raised.

You raise your eyebrows and scoff. “I’m not going in there.”

Billy chuckles like he expected that response. “You scared or somethin’?”

You scoff. "Of course not."

"Then prove it."

You narrow your eyes. "I didn’t realize I had to prove anything to you."

Billy grins, standing up in one fluid motion. He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the grass before kicking off his shoes. His hands go to his belt next, unbuckling it with ease.

"What the hell are you doing?" Your mouth goes dry, you want to look away, you probably should, but… well you also don’t want to look away.

"What’s it look like?" He shoots you a smirk before shoving his jeans down and stepping out of them, leaving him in just his boxers. Then, without hesitation, he jogs toward the edge and dives into the water.

You scramble to your feet, watching as he disappears beneath the surface. He’s under for a few seconds before breaking through, shaking water from his hair and turning to look at you.

"Shit’s nice," he calls out. "You comin’ or what?"

“No thank, I don’t feel like getting wet.” You called back.

“Bet I can change your mind.” He says, and you swear you can see the smirk on his face deepen.

You scoff and roll your eyes, but don’t respond. You cross your arms over your chest, still looking over the ledge at him. The cool night air brushes against your skin, but some part of you can’t resist the idea of joining Billy. Of entertaining the possibility of him for just a bit longer. You can go back to responsibility and ignoring him tomorrow, right? It’s just swimming.

"C’mon, sweetheart." His voice is smoother now, coaxing. "You spend all this time thinkin’ ‘bout what you should and shouldn’t do. Just do somethin’ for the hell of it."

Your pulse quickens. Maybe, just this once…

Your fingers hover over the hem of your shirt. Billy watches you, his expression unreadable. And before you can talk yourself out of it, you pull the fabric over your head. Your shoes and pants follow.

Billy’s smirk returns, slow and satisfied. "That’s my girl."

That makes your heart pound. You can feel heat creeping to your cheeks and suddenly you’re grateful he’s so far away. You step to the edge and take a deep breath before jumping into the water below.

The cold rush of water engulfs you instantly, stealing your breath. For a second, all you hear is the muffled quiet beneath the surface, a stark contrast to the pounding of your heart. When you break through, gasping softly, Billy’s already watching you.

His arms move lazily through the water, keeping him afloat as he smirks. "Not bad, huh?"

You push your wet hair out of your face, trying to ignore the way your body still buzzes from the sound of that’s my girl. "It’s freezing."

"You’ll get used to it."

Billy floats closer, water rippling between you. There’s an ease to the way he moves, completely comfortable in his own skin. You wish you could say the same for yourself.

"See?" he says, voice lower now. "Didn’t kill ya."

"Yeah, well. Jury’s still out."

Billy chuckles, and the sound makes your stomach flip. He dips his head back, wet curls sticking to his forehead as he watches you. "You really gotta loosen up, Munson."

You roll your eyes, but before you can fire back, he surges forward, splashing a wave of water at you. You yelp, spluttering, and immediately return fire, sending a splash right back at him.

Billy laughs, a real, unguarded laugh. It’s warm in a way you don’t expect, and it does something to you—makes something shift in your chest.

Before you know it, you’re both laughing, treading water in the moonlight, teasing and splashing until you’re breathless. And then—

Then, just like that, the moment settles.

You don’t know who stops first, but suddenly the space between you is less. Billy is close, closer than he’s been all night, and it’s different now. His usual cocky grin has softened at the edges, and his eyes flicker to your lips—just for a second, but long enough that you notice.

Your breath catches.

"Billy—"

He reaches out, fingers brushing lightly against your waist beneath the water. A slow, deliberate touch. His eyes hold yours, searching, asking.

And maybe you should pull away. Maybe you should remind yourself of all the reasons this is a bad idea.

But you don’t.

Because right now, with the water lapping at your skin and the way Billy’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters… you realize, you want this. And sometimes, that’s all that matters.

“Tell me to stop.” He murmurs, leaning in and hovering his lips over yours.

You don’t.

Billy doesn’t hesitate.

The moment he has his answer—the moment you don’t pull away—he closes the space between you, lips pressing against yours with a confidence that makes your head spin. It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. It’s heat and pressure, the kind of kiss that steals your breath, that makes you forget everything except him.

His hand curls around your waist, pulling you against him. Your fingers find his shoulders, digging in just slightly as you kiss him back. Billy hums against your lips, like he’s pleased, like he knew this would happen all along. It should annoy you. Maybe it does. But right now, you don’t care.

His teeth press into your bottom lip, teasing, and you gasp just enough for him to take advantage of it, deepening the kiss. His other hand moves, trailing up your back, fingers tangling in your damp hair giving it a soft tug. You’re sure it’s just another way he’s teasing you, testing your boundaries, but right now you couldn’t care less.

The water ripples around you, cool against the heat of his touch. Everything else—the reasons why this is a bad idea, the voice in your head telling you you should stop—fades into the background.

Right now, it’s just Billy. Just the way he tastes, like beer and smoke and something distinctly him. Just the way he holds you, like he doesn’t want to let go.

His thumb traces slow circles against your waist, and you realize how easy it would be to let yourself get lost in him.

Too easy.

Your heart pounds as reality seeps in through the cracks. What are you doing?

Billy’s hand released your hair and began trailing down your back, over your bra strap and down to your ass, giving you a firm but not painful squeeze.

Now the reality of the situation completely flooded your senses. You swiftly pulled away, your hands pressing against his chest to make a small bit of space between you two.

Billy’s eyes flick open, searching yours, and for a brief moment, something unreadable passes over his face. Surprise? Annoyance? Disappointment?

You don’t give yourself time to figure it out. You take a breath, trying to ignore the way your lips still tingle, the way your skin feels too hot despite the cool water.

“I—” You swallow hard, struggling to piece together the right words. What are the right words? You kissed him back. You wanted to. You still want to.

Billy doesn’t move, doesn’t try to pull you back in. His hands stay where they are, but his grip loosens, like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do next. Like he’s testing you. Your fingers are still pressed against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms. You should say something. You should explain.

Instead, you shake your head, stepping back. “I need to get out.”

Billy watches you for a beat, his expression unreadable, then exhales sharply through his nose. “Right.” His voice is rougher than before, lower.

You don’t look at him as you swim toward the shore, your heartbeat still hammering in your ears. What the hell were you thinking? By the time you pull yourself up onto the grass, your hands are shaking. It’s just from the cold, right?

After a few moments, you hear movement behind you—Billy pulling himself onto the shore, water dripping off his muscular frame as he runs a hand through his soaked hair. You pointedly keep your back to him.

“You gonna pretend this didn’t happen?” His voice is quieter now, lacking its usual bite.

You hesitate, as you wrap your arms around yourself. You should pretend. You should walk away and never look back. You finally tune to him, his blue eyes feel like their piercing right through you.

You hold his gaze, pulse hammering in your throat. Every instinct screams at you to lie, to brush this off as nothing. But the way Billy is looking at you—like he already knows the truth, like he sees it—makes it hard to force the words out.

So you say nothing.

Billy exhales sharply through his nose, like he was expecting that answer. He shakes his head slightly, smirking, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Fine. Pretend all you want, princess.” He steps past you, beginning the walk back up to the Camaro and your clothes. “But we both know you felt that.”

You glare at his back, but you don’t argue. Because he’s right. You follow behind him. The walk back is silent and tense.

The ride back is just as quiet. The radio hums softly in the background, but neither of you speak. You sit stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, still damp and shivering slightly from the air and water mixture. Billy keeps one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh, his jaw clenched as he watches the road.

You steal a glance at him. He looks calm, but there’s something different. He’s tense. Not in the usual cocky, on-edge way he carries himself, but like he’s thinking. Like he’s feeling something and doesn’t know what to do with it.

You shift in your seat, focusing on the blur of streetlights passing outside the window. Your mind races, replaying everything from the quarry, from the way he kissed you to the way you didn’t stop him.

What the hell were you thinking?

By the time Billy pulls up to the trailer park, your stomach is a mess of knots. And it only gets worse as you see Eddie, who was just about to climb into the van looking at the Camaro in disbelief.

You grip the door handle, desperate to make some excuse, but Billy’s voice stops you.

“This ain’t over, you know.” He mutters, a glint in his eyes.

Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him but right now, you don’t have time. You shake your head as you step out of the Camaro and Billy follows in suit.

Eddie looked more pissed off than you’ve ever seen him. His wild curls are disheveled, his ripped Metallica shirt hanging loose off his frame, and his eyes—dark and furious—snap straight to you.

Then to Billy.

“What the fuck is this?” Eddie demands, his voice sharp as he stalks forward. His gaze flickers to your damp clothes, to Billy’s just-as-soaked shirt, and his face twists in something close to horror. “Are you kidding me?”

You open your mouth to explain—though you don’t even know how—but Billy beats you to it.

“Relax, Munson,” he drawls, smirking as he leans lazily against his car. “Nothin’ happened.”

“Oh, bullshit,” Eddie snaps. “She’s soaking wet, you’re soaking wet—what the hell am I supposed to think?”

Billy scoffs. “Maybe that we went for a swim.”

Eddie’s nostrils flare, his hands balling into fists. “You think this is funny?” He rounds on you now, voice laced with disbelief. “What were you thinking? You show up in his car, lookin’ like that, after disappearing all night?”

You don’t know what to say, or how to explain any of this. “Eddie—”

“No,” he cuts you off, pointing a shaking finger at Billy. “I told you to stay the fuck away from her.”

Billy chuckles, low and condescending. “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, Munson?”

That does it.

Eddie lunges, grabbing Billy by the collar with both hands and yanking him forward. “You think you’re so fucking tough?” he growls, voice dangerously low. “Try me, asshole.”

Billy doesn’t hesitate. His fist slams into Eddie’s jaw, sending him stumbling back a step.

“Billy!” you gasp, instinctively reaching for Eddie, who shakes you off, wiping at the corner of his mouth where blood has already started to bead.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters, touching his jaw before glaring back up at Billy. “You really are a fucking psycho.”

Billy flexes his hand, rolling his shoulders like he’s ready to swing again. “You’re the one who grabbed me, man.”

Eddie exhales sharply, clenching and unclenching his fists like he’s debating whether to go for round two. But then he looks at you. And whatever he sees on your face—guilt, worry, something else—makes his shoulders sag slightly.

“This isn’t over,” Eddie mutters, shaking his head as he backs away toward the trailer, grabbing your arm and dragging you with him. “Not even close.”

You watch as Billy slides back into the Camaro, starts the engine, and peels out of the trailer park like he doesn’t have a single regret in the world.

You, on the other hand?

You’re drowning in them.

#stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things billy hargrove x reader #stranger things billy x reader #stranger things billy x you #stranger things billy hargrove x you

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 3 months ago

Text

One Call Away

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x3)

Synopsis: based on 4x19, only the ghouls kidnap you instead of Sam

I’m only one call away

I’ll be there to save the day

“Whatever’s hunting Adam, I’m gonna find it.”

“You already looked everywhere, Dean,” Sam argued.

“Well then I’ll look again,” Dean snapped before turning to leave.

“Wait.” Sam sighed. “Wait, I’ll…I’m gonna come with you.”

Dean’s eyes flashed from Sam to you. Sam seemed to read his mind.

“She can stay here with Adam. It’s safer, and she knows enough to show him how to secure the house.”

“Fine.”

…

You and Adam nailed down and salted every conceivable entrance into the house. You were just about to call your brothers when you heard a woman’s voice yelling from downstairs.

“Adam!”

“Mom?”

“Adam no—“ you tried to stop Adam, but he was already starting down the stairs after his mother’s voice. “Adam it’s not her!”

You reached the bottom of the stairs in time to see Adam embrace what looked like his mother, but had to be a monster.

“Adam that can’t be her!” You insisted, raising your gun. “There was too much blood, it can’t—“

Adam wrestled the gun out of your hands without hesitation, swinging it between you and his mother.

“It’s not human!” You cried.

A slow smirk appeared across “Adam’s” face.

“I know.”

The butt of the gun was the last thing you saw as the monster swung it at your head.

…

“Dean?” Your first instinct when you awoke to a pounding headache was to call out to your big brother. But you got no answer.

Superman got nothing on me

I’m only one call away

Call me, baby, if you need a friend

You tried to sit up, but straps across your ribs held you down tightly to an old wooden table that scratched against your back. You groaned as you tried to move your arms and legs with the same results; your legs were held by straps, and your wrists were stretched out to either end of the table and tied down with coarse rope.

An eerie humming invaded your senses as you slowly let your eyes open. The humming stopped as you moved around more.

“You’re a ghoul,” you mumbled. “That’s why the tests didn’t work.”

“Would’ve been a lot better for you if you’d figured it out earlier.” The woman who looked like Adam’s mother turned around to face you, wielding a large kitchen knife. “Or maybe it wouldn’t have. We’re good at catching our prey. Not that you were hard to catch.”

“My brothers—“ you cut yourself off in a cry of pain as the woman sliced into your forearm with a knife. You tried to ignore her as she licked at the wound, instead choosing to continue your threat. “My brothers are gonna kill you.”

“They won’t get here in time to save you, sweetie,” she taunted, licking her lips.

“Oh it’s gonna be fun killing you after what your daddy did to mine.” The ghoul that looked like Adam was suddenly at your other side, grinning at you as he lifted up one of your knives before slicing it across your wrist.

You’d really wanted to be stoic like your big brothers, but you couldn’t hold back the cry of pain while Adam put his knife down and placed a bucket under your wrist to catch the dropping blood.

“Oh she’s gonna be a whiny one,” the woman chuckled.

“A screamer, just like Adam,” the boy added. He leaned close to your ear to whisper, “He really was your brother, by the way.”

“My brothers will—“

“Ah yes, your brothers. The three of you are so inseparable, it was such a pain to get you alone.”

“Worth it though,” Ghoul Adam added, sticking the tip of his knife into your side and twisting it—just enough of a wound for him to dip his finger in. You cried out, trying to squirm away from him, but the straps held you tight.

“By the way, your brothers won’t be interrupting us,” the woman played with the tip of her knife while she spoke. “So we’re gonna feed on you nice and slow, like we did with Adam. We wanted to kill your daddy, but he was already dead. So you and your brothers will have to do instead.” She reached down, slicing another cut into your wrist—this one much deeper.

You couldn’t help it—you screamed, your arms thrashing in a fruitless attempt to escape the ropes and the knives.

“Hey, lie down and relax,” Ghoul Adam chided you. “We don’t want you bleeding out too fast.”

Reaching out to you, so take a chance

No matter where you go, know you’re not alone

“Hey!” Dean’s voice rang out through the room as he stormed in, gun raised.

“They—they’re ghouls!” You gasped, peering at your big brother through a foggy gaze.

“Headshot.” Sam’s voice came a second after the sound of a gunshot ripped through the air. The woman ghoul dropped to the ground, her head having been blown off by the close shot.

Dean was by your side in a second, but before he could untie you Ghoul Adam tackled him into the next room.

You whimpered as your hand twitched, spilling more of your blood into the bucket under you.

“De…Dean!” You cried out as he landed a blow to Adam’s head.

I’m only one call away

Dean turned to you, leaving Ghoul Adam open for Sam to take a headshot.

I’ll be there to save the day

“Hey kiddo.” Dean rushed to your side, making quick work of untying your wrists and the other straps, completely ignoring Sam shooting off the head of your half-brother’s look-alike in the next room.

Superman got nothing on me

“Up you go,” Dean coaxed, supporting your back as he pulled you into a sitting position.

Your head felt like it was completely drained of blood as you swayed, spots dancing across your vision.

“Whoa, hey—“ Sam appeared on your other side, stabilizing you while Dean grabbed two rags and pressed them against your cuts.

A strangled cry escaped you as you instinctively tried to pull away from Dean, but he held on tight.

“It’s ok, hold it there,” Dean ordered. “We gotta stop the bleeding.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t think you’d find me,” you whimpered. “They were gonna eat me—“

I’m only one call away

“Shh, hey it’s ok,” Sam soothed. “We’re right here.”

“I’m never gonna let anything happen to you,” Dean promised. “Now c’mon, we should go.” He pulled you off the table, but the second your feet hit the ground the spots returned and your knees gave out. Dean caught you before you could hit the floor, and Sam reached out and grabbed hold of your wrists to keep the rags tight.

“Dean—“ Sam cringed as his hands were immediately soaked with red. “She’s losing a lot of blood.”

“She’s ok.” Dean glared at Sam, before turning a softer gaze to you when your breath started to labor. “You’re ok, I promise.”

Dean carried you out to the Impala, where Sam sat with you in the back, holding tightly onto the rags wrapped around your wrists.

“The bleeding will stop,” he kept repeating. “And you’re gonna be just fine.”

Dean went back into the house to take care of the ghouls’ bodies while Sam stayed with you.

“It’s done,” Dean said when he returned. “How’s—“ he turned to the back seat, and Sam cut him off.

“Her heart rate is skyrocketing. De—” Sam almost never called his big brother De. And he almost never looked this scared. “She’s losing too much blood. She can’t be losing this much blood! She’s so little—“

“Calm down!” Dean snapped. Sam used to talk about you like that—how little and fragile you were—when you were just a baby, and he was scared you wouldn’t make it in such a dangerous world. Dean reached over the seat and grabbed your chin in his hand. “Sweetheart, talk to me,” he begged.

“What?” You blinked. Your whole body seemed to heave with the effort it took to breathe. “De, what…Sam what’s happening?”

“She’s delirious, I’m gonna need to stitch up these wounds to stop the bleeding.” Dean got out of the front seat and came to your door, propping it open and grabbing onto your hands. “Sam, you gotta keep her still, I don’t think she’s gonna understand what’s happening.”

Sam shifted, wrapping one arm around you while grabbing your forearm with his free hand, keeping you in place while Dean grabbed a needle and sterilized it.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Sam whispered to you while Dean got started on the stitches. You fought to free yourself and get away from the needle, but you were no match for Sam’s strength.

You started to cry in Sam’s arms, but you didn’t speak as Dean finished up the stitches quickly and then helped Sam lay you gently in the back, your head in Sam’s lap.

“Are you sure she doesn’t need a hospital?” Sam asked as Dean got in the front seat and started for the motel.

“They’d have too many questions, and we don’t have answers,” Dean huffed. “You’ve got her blood type. We may have to do a jerryrig transfusion when we get back.”

“Sleep now?” You mumbled, your eyes already fluttering shut. Dean glanced back at you. He was worried about you sleeping, but he feared that they wouldn’t have a choice with the way you were dozing already, and he didn’t want to scare you.

“Yeah sweetheart, you can sleep now.”

Your face relaxed into a gentle smile, and you gave a half-hearted thumbs up.

“I love you…” you whispered before dozing off.

“I love you” would be the last words the boys heard from you for a long time.

…

The ghouls didn’t look like Adam and his mom this time; they looked like Sam and Dean.

“We ate your brothers already,” ghoul Dean said. “So there’s nobody to save you.”

“We’re gonna eat you nice and slow,” ghoul Sam added. “One. Bite. At a time.”

Both brothers jumped for you at the same time, ready to rip you apart—

“Y/N! Y/N, wake up!”

You bolted upright, your eyes blinking into focus to see Sam leaning over the back of his seat in the Impala to shake you awake. Dean was stealing glances at you from the drivers’ seat.

“You ok, kiddo?” Dean asked.

You offered him a small nod in reply, and he shared a glance with Sam. This was the third time in just over a day that you’d awoken from a nightmare since your time with the ghouls, and you still hadn’t spoken a word. Sam had had to give you some of his blood, but you were either asleep or unconscious for most of it.

Dean had put bandages over your wounds to keep you from scratching at them in your sleep, and he’d hoped that would be the end of it. But something about the ghouls had scared you more than any other monster you’d seen. Dean was kicking himself every minute, think about how he should’ve gotten to you faster, he shouldn’t have let those ghouls cut you open and scare you so badly.

Distracted, Dean didn’t notice the light turning green in front of him until the car behind him honked. The sudden beep had you nearly jumping out of your seat, your eyes wide and panicked.

“Hey, easy,” Sam soothed. “You’re ok.”

“What are you—“ Dean stared at you as you started to climb over the seat, only tearing his gaze away when he had to make a turn. “Kid, what are you doing?”

You didn’t answer—you just finished climbing over the seat and then leaned against Sam, who—despite his surprise—wrapped his arms around you and let you burrow against him.

“You ok, N/N?” He asked. No response.

“Cat got your tongue?” Dean quipped. At your silence, he prodded, “Kiddo, say something.” He waited a beat. Nothing. “Would you say something?” He snapped.

“Hey, easy,” Sam chided. Dean finally turned his eyes from the road to look at you again—you had all but disappeared into Sam’s side, your face tucked against his shoulder like you were trying to hide from the world.

Come along with me and don’t be scared

I just wanna set you free

Dean took the hint and stopped digging. Sam was content to sit in the silence, but he could practically feel Dean worrying beside him.

“We took care of those ghouls, N/N,” Dean assured you. “Nobody’s ever gonna hurt you again.”

You stared down at your bandaged wrists and said nothing.

…

Things between the Winchester siblings had changed. Dean spent most of his time either worrying about you, or trying to get you to talk. Sam however, had decided on a different approach after weeks of your silence. Dean was out on a grocery run when Sam brought his approach to you.

“Hey honey,” he greeted, “Can I show you something?”

You nodded, and he came to sit with you on your bed, bringing his laptop with him.

You and me can make it up, anyway

For now, we can stay here for a while

“So, I know you don’t really wanna talk anymore,” he began, and when you started to squirm he quickly continued— “It’s ok, really. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do. I just thought…maybe if you don’t want to talk anymore, we could try this.” Sam set his laptop down in front of you. “It’s a sign language course. I found this website online with all these videos and—and I just thought maybe we could try this out. If you wanted to. I thought maybe it would be easier than talking.”

You seemed to consider it for a long moment before nodding at your brother, and he grinned.

“Cool—uh—let’s get started.”

…

“What are you guys up to?” Dean’s voice caught yours and Sam’s attention as he returned to the motel room. You made a series of gestures at him, to which he stared blankly.

“She said we’re learning sign language,” Sam interpreted with a grin. “You wanna join us?”

“Sign language?” Dean frowned. “What for?”

“Oh—well—“ Sam stumbled over his words, his surety of a few minutes ago gone. “For fun, I guess.”

“Huh.” Dean shook his head. “Ok, well, I’ve got food, so dig in.”

…

You weren’t asleep, but they thought you were; you could tell because they were talking about you.

“Why are you against this sign language thing?”

“Why? Because she doesn’t need it, Sam. I mean, don’t you want her to talk again?”

“Of course I do, Dean. But right now that doesn’t look like an option, and I still want to be able to communicate with her!”

“But if we do this, then maybe she never tries to talk again!”

“But if we don’t, then we run the risk of never connecting with her again, Dean!”

“That’s not true, if we—“

The voices cut off when you sat up in bed, jumping off and running to your brothers. Dean let you jump into his lap and get comfortable. You signed at Sam, and he sighed and said to Dean—

“She said, stop fighting.”

Cause you know, I just wanna see your smile

No matter where you go, know you’re not alone

“If you wanna sign, then I’ll do it with you,” Dean said. “I just…I miss you. I wish you would talk to us. But if this—“ Dean waved his fingers at you, and you grinned. “If this is how you want to talk, I can do that. I just want you to feel safe. You know you’re safe, right?”

When you’re weak I’ll be strong

I’m gonna keep holding on

You signed, and Sam said—

“She says I know.”

“Know?” Dean repeated your sign. “This is know?”

You nodded, and he grinned.

“Ok. So what’s next?”

“The alphabet is the most important thing,” Sam offered.

“Ok then. You know, I taught both of you guys your ABCs? Now it’s time to return the favor.”

You giggled, and just the hint of your voice brightened Dean’s mood.

…

The sign language lessons were going well, but Dean was still worried. Every little unexpected sound still freaked you out, and Dean was avoiding any mention of monsters, especially ghouls. Which wasn’t going to be easy much longer.

“Hey, the cameras didn’t pick up any eye flare, so the look-alike can’t be a shifter. Dean I think it’s a—

“Sam, how about we go get some food,” Dean cut him off, forcing himself not to glance in your direction. Even without looking he could tell you’d tensed up.

“Oh…right, ok.” Sam and Dean started for the door, but a tug on Dean’s arm stopped him.

Darling, if you feel like hope is gone

Just run into my arms

You were at his elbow, your eyes wide and your fingers trembling. Dean hadn’t stopped Sam fast enough—you knew it was a ghoul.

“They’re never gonna come near you,” Dean promised. “Me and Sam will take care of it.”

Your hands tightened on his arm, unwilling to let go.

“Hey,” Sam spoke up. “We’ve got this. We’ll be back in a few hours. Just lock yourself in here, and call if you need us.”

You slowly released Dean’s arm.

Be safe, you signed at them.

“Always,” Dean said, patting your shoulder before turning and leading Sam toward the hunt.

…

I’m only one call away

I’ll be there to save the day

“She called me twelve times.”

“Why didn’t you answer?”

“I was in the middle of killing a ghoul!”

“Well, call her now,” Sam insisted.

Dean clicked on your number as he started up Baby.

“We’ll be back in two minutes,” he said. He got no response, so he hung up and drove faster.

…

Dean was thrown back a half step the second he opened the door by the force of you throwing yourself at him.

“I’m ok, it’s all ok,” he said. “You’re ok, right?”

You nodded, pulling away long enough to grab onto Sam.

“The ghoul is dead,” Sam said. “It’s all over, ok?”

You just kept holding on, so Sam picked you up and carried you over to your bed.

“I know you’re still pretty freaked,” he said. “And that’s ok.”

“Yeah,” Dean cut in. “And if you don’t want to talk, that’s ok too.”

“But we both need you to know that we’ll keep you safe,” Sam said. “You know that, don’t you? No matter what, we’re not gonna let you get hurt again.”

You nodded firmly, and Sam smiled as he tucked you into bed. You slept soundly that night, knowing your brothers were right next to you, always watching over you.

Superman got nothing on me

I’m only one call away

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810

#the winchesters #dean and sam #dean winchester #supernatural dean #sam winchester #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x reader #winchesters x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #dean winchester x little sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean winchester x sister

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eevees-hobbies · 11 months ago

Text

Dating Sanemi Shinazugawa - NSFW

Authors Note: Um…I don’t know where the fuck this came from but all the Sanemi propaganda that you all post inspired me. I kind of….want him???? Send help. Reblogs, likes, comments, and asks are always appreciated! I don't bite.

As always, minors and ageless blogs don't interact.

Synopsis: A headcanon of what it's like to get to know, date and suck off Sanemi.

Content Warnings: Female Reader X Sanemi. Fluff and smut. He touches your butt. Light reference to Sanemi going down on you. The smuttier smut is at the bottom and separated by my poor excuse of a divider. You give Sanemi oral.

Word Count: 2.1K

Getting to Know Sanemi Shinazugawa

When you meet Sanemi Shinazugawa, he’s gruff and moody—-just like he is with everyone else. He doesn’t initially acknowledge your presence until he has no other choice, and your hesitancy to fully engage with him only makes him bristle more.

You admit to being a bit afraid of him—and who can blame you—he just seems so angry! But you quickly realize that his anger is used to hide feelings of loss; his stone-like demeanor is a way to keep everyone at a football stadium's length away. He has the “they can’t hurt me if I don’t let them in” mentality locked down.

But some things you notice about him make your heart flutter. You detect that despite his stand-offish ways, Sanemi is close to the Serpeant Hashira, Obanai Iguro. They often share pointed looks without speaking a word, and while walking alongside one another, their strides are very similar—commonplace behavior for people who share a closeness. You stare at them in awe, a bromance, you think to yourself—of course, you wouldn’t dare say this aloud and in the presence of two of the moodiest Hashiras. Certainly, he can’t be all bad if he can build this level of intimacy with someone!

And despite regularly abusing the lower-ranked corp members during his infamously brutal trainings, Sanemi never yells at those whom he considers to be the most vulnerable—children, women, or the elderly.

At first, you confuse this behavior as indifference, but in actuality, he hates any instance of abuse of power. You witnessed this very scenario when Sanemi connected his fist to the nose of a corp member who had a young woman cornered—the corp member was far too handsy, and the young woman was obviously uncomfortable. A loud crack collided against the narrow walls in the alleyway as the young man crumpled before Sanemi’s feet.

Sanemi snatches the jacket from the limp body of the corp member and turns his attention to the woman. “Hey, you ok? Sorry about this asshole.” His tone is even, but the fist that holds the jacket turns pale as his grip cannot possibly get any tighter.

So after witnessing the enigma that is Sanemi and deciding that he’s actually totally your type, you hatch a plan—a plan not unlike one that you would use to soothe and bond with a rabid animal: kill ‘em (or seduce, right?) with kindness.

You begin to bring him snacks, offer to share your lunches with him, and even say hi when you pass each other in the estate halls, which is enough to make him pause, whip around, and watch as you walk away.

“Good morning?? What’s THAT supposed to mean?” You turn around to face him—skipping backward so as not to interrupt your stride—and stick out your tongue playfully. “Now what kind of silly question is that? What do you THINK it means?” Sanemi grumbles under his breath about needing stricter policies for those who can join the corps, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from you. Despite the oddity that is you, he can feel his heart stutter and finds himself cautiously anticipating and getting excited at the thought of passing you in the halls.

You take notice of all his scars, at first out of morbid curiosity but then out of wonder. Each streak across his face is a roadmap of all the loss and pain he’s endured. Despite those facts, he still chooses to fight on behalf of a world that has not always been kind to him.

Sanemi can feel you staring at him, and it makes him unbearably angry. His shoulders stiffen as he begins to feel self-conscious under your gaze. When he turns to give you an earful, his breath catches. He doesn’t see fear or pity in your eyes; it’s something he’s unfamiliar with—adoration, perhaps?

“What are you staring at?’ he mumbles sheepishly. You offer a small smile, amused at the sight of his reddening cheeks. “You’re pretty cute. Do you know that, Sanemi?” Sanemi stammers, “You touched in the head or somethin’…?” You ignore his pitiful attempt to get you to leave him alone, “can I touch them?” He doesn’t answer you, afraid to give the wrong answer, but also scared to put himself out there and potentially get crushed. “I won’t touch them without your go-ahead, Nemi.” His mouth falls open at his new pet name, your boldness stirring something inside him as he gives a curt, practically unnoticeable nod. You extend your hand to his face and stroke his cheek, your thumb gliding gently across the rough, raised skin. “You’re kind of….a pretty boy, Sa-ne-mi.” You say his name like each syllable holds weighted importance—and fuuuuuuck, does he like the way you say it. And while you were fully prepared to lay your attempts at winning his heart over on a bit thicker, you find that you don’t have to. Sanemi’s heart races because he’s so used to people running away from him, used to people treating him like shit, that his wild eyes stare into yours, searching and finding something that he was so desperately missing and wanting. And to your giddy delight—he doesn’t pull away; instead, he gingerly rests his cheek into your palm.

Bit by bit, you somehow manage to tame the Wind Hashira.

Dating Sanemi

Sanemi is surprisingly thoughtful when it comes to you. This might partly be attributed to the fact that he can’t get you out of his mind but also because he’s so desperately afraid of losing you to someone else—someone like that bastard Tomioka—because women prefer the sensitive type, right?

He takes mental notes of things you like, so much so that when you one day show up to a meeting with a leather-bound book of poems, he secretly checks which page is the most worn and commits the prose to memory. When he presents you with the detailed cross-stiched poem in a hand-crafted wooden embroidery hoop, he can’t look you in the eyes,

“I uh…got a Master Embroider to make this for you. Take it.” You gasp, and for once, you’re the one at a loss for words because while Sanemi is starting to let down his walls, you weren’t expecting something so intimate. Truly, he’s a romantic at heart.

Other times, he’ll simply sit beside you, both of you taking a rare break in your favorite shaded spot, and present you with your favorite flower.

“So, uh,” he’ll lean back, folding his thick, chiseled arms behind his head, “tell me about your day.” You smile, bringing the flower up to your nose and letting the sweet scent tickle your senses, hoping that in the future, the smell of this particular flower will trigger this memory, offering an immortalized snapshot of the blossoming feelings you feel for him. “Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Nemi.” He’ll blush and rub his thigh against yours, eyes still closed but a blush creeping from his neck to his cheeks. “Yeah? I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you either.” He’ll breathe out a husky laugh, “come to think of it, you’re constantly on my mind.”

Romance with Sanemi

The first time you kiss Sanemi, you’re pretty sure a quiet whimper escapes from his throat. The kiss feels electric and familiar simultaneously, and it doesn’t take long for him to press his lips more firmly against yours. His soft lips glide with yours as he places his shakey hands on your hips and pulls your bodies so close that your chests touch. He drags his tongue against your bottom lip, daring you to give him access, and of course you do. His tongue explores every crevice of your mouth, mixing your saliva and savoring your taste. When you two pull away, his cheeks are tinted pink, and he’s looking away with a half-hearted scowl before he pulls you back in, his rough hands resting on the back of your neck and head.

“Hm, let’s do that again. It was too short,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours. His mouth is so close to yours that you can feel his breath tickle your lips.

The first time you’re intimate, Sanemi’s hands explore your body as though you’re fragile and could crumble under his touch. He constantly brings his eyes up to yours; you can hear him swallow thickly as he takes in your naked body splayed out in front of him—for him.

“Is it ok if I lick you here? You taste so fucking good.” “Y-you’d tell me if you wanted me to stop, yeah?”

With each instance of intimacy, he grows more confident, maybe not in his abilities to please you because he was never unsure about that, but he grows convinced that you want him. And eventually, it’s like the floodgates open. And those floodgates represent a 100% increase in Sanemi’s affection—and how he shows that affection—towards you.

In a crowded marketplace? Sanemi is grabbing your hand, guiding you carefully through the sea of people, and shooting daggers at anyone who bumps into you or looks at you the wrong way. Haven’t seen each other in a few days because he has been on a mission? Sanemi beelines straight to where you are—forgoing his sleep or taking a bath—to embrace you in a hug and whisper how much he missed you as he presses his lips to the crown of your head.

“I missed my girl so much. Did ya miss me? There’s no way in fuckin’ hell I was goin’ to miss seeing you for another night.” He scoops you up in his arms and kisses you, his large hands conveniently cupping your ass and squeezing your curvy cheeks.

You’re bone tired and sleeping in? Sanemi is the kind of lover to leave a trail of soft kisses along your forehead, nose, and then lips every morning before quietly rising—careful not to wake you—to sweep the floors, put away dishes, and brew your favorite tee so that there are fewer things for you to worry about when you wake.

“Tch! Look at who finally decided to join me. Thought you were going to snore the day away—-come drink your tea already, sleepy head!” And though he’s starting the morning by talking shit—he can’t help but smile at you as he brings your cup over. He snakes an arm around your waist and chirps, “you know you snore like a fuckin’ hog?”

-------

Sucking Sanemi Off

There is no doubt that Sanemi is the proverbial definition of a man, but there’s nothing that makes your brain turn off more than when he pulls his thick, veiny and domineering cock out of his uniform. You get a primal urge to suck him off until he pumps your pretty little mouth with thick ropes of his cum.

And so you do.

Your tongue flirts with the fat tip of his dick, licking at the precum that is now sliding down the length of his shaft. You leave every inch of his cock covered in your slick saliva, even trailing your tongue down and suckling at his balls.

“You and that filthy fuckin’ mouth of yours,” his head falls back as he strokes your hair. His breath and tone ring harsh in your ears, but his touch is loving—this only fuels your need to take more of him down your throat. As you slide his meat past your tongue so the tip is pressed against the back of his throat, he lets out a prolonged and guttural moan.

“Hmm, my girl really knows how to suck dick, huh?” His calloused hand strokes your cheek; his words sound like pure honey to your Sanemi-addicted brain. You give him a muffled but eager, “mmmh!”

You move your lips and tongue along his shaft, his precum pooling into your mouth and sliding down your throat. The heat in between your thighs only grows more intense with the bobbing motion of your head.

“Make it messy, baby. Slobber on my cock like ya know I like it,” Sanemi groans as he pulls his dick out from your mouth, smacking and dragging his length against your swollen lips. You grip him at the base and spit on his dick; your eyes light up in pleasure as his heavy balls twitch aggressively. Not being able to take it anymore and because Sanemi has a thing for cumshots, he grips his dick in his hand and strokes himself quickly.

“Open wide, baby girl. Show me that tongue.” You obediently stick out your tongue, strings of saliva, and precum, making a lewd-looking web in your mouth.

Sanemi whines and rests his sensitive tip against the entrance of your mouth. “Fuck, you ready, baby?” Before you can answer, his cock twitches, firing fast and hard right into your waiting mouth, and like a good girl, you swallow every last drop.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #demon slayer sanemi #kny sanemi #sanemi shinaguzawa #demon slayer fanfic #smut

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xiao-come-home · 1 year ago

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PLEASE PLEASE PPLLLEEEAAAASE GIVE ME HEADCANONS OF BOOTHILL WITH AN INSECURE CHUBBY S/O. I KNOW THIS MAN WOULD SHOW EXTRA LOVE AND KILL ANYONE WHO MAKES FUN OF HIS BELOVED

Oh wow hehe twirls hair did you just call me out in this ask because its so me 🧐 some are a little sugg/estive but yea, you ask and I shall deliver 🙏

Boothill does not care that you're chubby at all - quite the opposite, he loves it! He genuinely thinks you look gorgeous, but most importantly, he's obsessed with hugging you and how soft you are! It gives him the fuzzy memories and reminds him how much he misses his old body.

Boothill does not tolerate yours or - aeons forbid - anyone else's bad comments about your body. Sure, he might laugh at some jokes you make, but once you take it too far, he gently reminds you that you're just as human as anybody else and should respect yourself! He won't judge you either, I mean - you're dating a cyborg, so if you love him for who he is in and out, he'll do the same.

Boothill might be a little too happy to touch your love handles at any occasion he gets. He's a little bit of a chubby chaser (like Itto, but it ain't about him) in the best way possible, he really likes to just... Grab stuff. Especially if it's about you.

Boothill might not be that good with words, but will always reassure you that he truly just loves you, regardless of how you think about yourself. Boothill will scoop you in his arms, kiss your cheek gently and wipe your tears if you truly feel down about your looks that day.

"Listen up, sweet pea," Boothill smiles at you softly, "all I can see is absolute perfection. Ya might not feel the same and it's fine - but I promise ya, pretty thing, I'll never get tired of seein' these beautiful curves."

He's definitely willing to prove his words with actions, though..

Try prying away Boothill from your thighs when he gets to them, I dare you. God, he loves, fuck, LOVES everything about your thick thighs. Having them as pillow, having his face squished between them... He jokes it's his only place to die the second time (💀). He just might go insane if you wear shorts that emphasize your revealed thighs.

He might just be laying between your thighs when he recharges. There's no reason to it, he's enveloped by two warm pillows and he's on cloud nine. Deal with it.

You may not notice, but Boothill sometimes just drools over you. If you're chubbier in the butt - he fights himself internally not to pull you from behind by your shorts against him and shamelessly grope you. Chubbier tits? He's almost barking when they spill from your bra. Chubbier stomach? God, the way some of your clothes stick to it, it makes his head dizzy. A little bit of everything? Good, he wants it all. Just sit on his face and stop talking.

Boothill might short-circuit when you sit on his lap for the first time because any aeons out there, this is heaven. Literally just marry him on the spot please. He isn't letting you go once you sit down. He's literally the "let's fucking go" meme afterwards.

You just have to slap away Boothill's hands in public from time to time because this man's hands slowly progress from just holding your waist, then firmly holding your hips, and traveling to finally hold your ass.

Though, when someone dares to speak something that makes you doubt yourself even more, let alone make you cry - things are going to get violent. Boothill won't let it slide, and on top of that, he's fucking pissed off. Boothill will hunt them in every lifetime.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #boothill #boothill hsr #boothill x reader #chubby reader #.anon thirst

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gassydumbjocks · 7 months ago

Text

Virilite 1:

Boys will be boys

Ever since I spiked my nephew Liam's beer with a strange pill I found online when he and my brother came to watch a football match, that boy has been acting like a man, as he should.

You see, my brother Noah had a son who, don't get me wrong, I love this boy with all my soul, but god damn he had to grow up and start acting like what he was, a dude, always wearing those girly crop tops and tight-fitting jeans with bright colors because "that's who he was", I admit that I was clearly upset when he revealed to the family that he was gay, but even so I couldn't do anything and neither could Noah, so we decided to accept him as he was, until I found a way to... make him act as he should.

While looking at online articles I found this article online that was supposed to be some pills that could have an effect on the behavior and actions of the person that took them, yes, I know, very science fiction-like, still, what caught my attention was the name and objective of the pill, "Virilite" was its name, and it promised to also have an effect on the levels of testosterone produced in men, which ended up convincing me to buy it.

The instructions were simple, put them in the drink or food that said man was going to consume, once ingested the guy would enter an immediate state of trance, able to only follow the orders that another person suggested in his mind, there were even images of test subjects boys who I assume took the pill, they all had a relaxed yet funny expression, eyes crossed and some even with tongues sticking out like dogs, I couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Liam looking like that.

Just as i was now, immediatly after i got Liam to drink it after offering him a beer, he letted out an involuntary loud and guttural deep belch, which from what i knew and readed online was a sign that the pill already took effect, i had Liam in front of me with a dumb smile and an eye-crossed, glazed over look, like that huge burp just took away all his thoughts and personality.

After the first 5 minutes of calling his name and getting no response, i actually started to worry, he couldn't stay as a brainless zombie-like dumbass all his life, and Noah would find out and kill me for it, i tried to remember, i took the pill's container and readed again the instructions.

"Ohh, so i have to, uh, kinda program him?" i said and then i thought of things i could make him do, i certainly bought those pills to make the kid more like a man... So, hell, what a man i would mold out of him.

I heard him let out a dumb chuckle still with that goofy smile from before, i smirked and approached "Liam, buddy, you hear me champ, you hear uncle Dave?" i asked to make sure he could indeed hear me, he slowly nodded and let out some hiccups "great, cuz we got a lot of work to do on you, and im sure you'll love it" i say.

I think of the first command to give him, they suggest to use short and simple commands, there are plenty of manly things he needs to learn, but i think i can cover up basic stuff, i remember Noah and me asking him to join us in our protein farting contests when we relaxed in our man cave watching our team, while Liam just grimaced and waved his hand, saying it was immature and gross, i would make him change his opinion, so it was obvious what would be the command "Liam...fart, loudly and proudly, c'mon" i literally order him to fart, i just wanted to test the effectiveness of the command obeying.

Without hesitation, he lifts his right leg as high as he can, leaving his butt in the air, before a barrage of gas goes out his butt.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTT!!!!

Its so strong, big and beefy, even for me, i have to wave the smell and open a window nearby "good lord boy! Where in the hell did you got all that gas from!?" i ask impressed, and try to recover before continuing "ok ok lets keep up!, umm, belch, a nice deep man belch" i say, waiting for it.

I didn't even have to wait when he was already patting his chest and squinting an eye to help the gas release.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPP!!!

And holy fuck, if Liam was concious, he'd know that beast burp would have easily beat his old man and me in our oftens belch offs, the pill was clearly making a miracle on him.

I was admitidly having fun on my nephew making all the stuff he found "gross" and "immature" under a pill's control, i gave him another command, just to get a good laugh "Liam, do some armpit farts, but in the last one, you'll ask me to pull your finger, you'll let out a monster fart, got it?" i asked and he nodded again, he then started with the manly symphony, he took a hand down one of his pits and started to produce the nasty sounds.

PPPPPRRRRTTT

PPPPPPRRRRRRTTT

PPPPPPRRRRRTT

PPPPPPPRRRRRTT

I saw him stop and put hand on his gut, then he talked goofily "uncle, pull my finger" he asked dumbly before laughing and extend his hand at me, i gladly accepted "oh of course kiddo, let me help you with that" i smirked and pulled it hard, unleashing the beast gas he had stuck in his rump.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!

An ABSOLUTELY disgusting deep-ass and loud, nasty fart erupted from him, Liam never losing the crossed look on his face, as he hiked exaggerately his leg to force the fart out, i was shocked, but in the end, finally proud of him, i couldn't wait for Noah to see what he could do! We would think on more funny stuff to do at our just guys nights! After all, boys will be boys, right?

#mind control #male farts #male burp #alpha man #iq loss

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months ago

Text

I put a spell on you

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 4

Prompt: Mistletoe

Rated: T

Tags: Magic AU; Witch Eddie; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Sexual tension; Pining; Flirting

Notes: Set in the same universe as Spellbound

“What are you doing up there?”

Eddie shrieks, losing his balance and nearly toppling off his branch. He rudders his arms through the air like some sort of idiot before he manages to right himself and grab the tree trunk for support.

“Jesus, Harrington,” he swears. “Did nobody teach you not to sneak up on people hanging in trees or do you want me to break my neck?”

“Sorry,” says Steve, even though he sounds anything but. He’s smiling, the stupid, smug bastard. Eddie hates how pretty it makes him look. “I don’t talk to many people hanging in trees, usually. Which brings me back to my question. What are you doing up there? Is it a magic thing?”

Eddie’s first impulse is to throw back a snide remark. He knows how the fine townspeople gossip behind his and Wayne's backs. The trailer park trash with the witch blood.

Except Steve has never called him that. Steve’s never been anything but polite to him, and even now, his eyes only hold curiosity as he watches Eddie scramble off the tree.

“Yes, it's a magic thing,” Eddie grumbles, dusting bark off his clothes and picking sticks from his hair. “I'm harvesting mistletoe. You don't usually find it around here, so when you see it, you gotta snatch it.”

Steve’s brow wrinkles. “What, really? Isn't it a bit early for that? It's hardly even April, and anyway, can't you just use the store-bought plastic stuff?”

“Wha-?” Eddie says.

He's a bit surprised there's no audible sound when it finally clicks.

“Oh God, no,” he blurts. “I'm not using it as a Christmas decoration. The berries go into potions and stuff.”

He fumbles around in his pocket until he finds the plastic container with his harvest, flipping open the lid. Steve eyes the small, white berries, eyebrows rising in astonishment.

“I didn't know you also made potions.”

“I don't,” Eddie says. “My uncle does, but you don't want him climbing any trees with his back and knees. You gotta be careful with your potion ingredients. A few too many of these babies and you'll kill a guy instead of curing his arthritis, or give him a massive case of mud butt at the very least. I ain't fucking with that. Spells and charms only for me.”

Steve stares at him, nose wrinkled in mild disgust. Eddie mentally slaps himself. He's been oddly rambly around Steve lately, and he doesn't even know why.

“Anyhow,” he says. “Something I can help you with, or-?”

Steve perks up.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” he says, reaching inside the collar of his sweater to pull out something on a leather string. Eddie’s heart jumps into his mouth. “Y'know this charm you made for me?”

“No refunds,” Eddie says automatically. “I told you I couldn't make Wheeler fall back in love with you if she doesn't have feelings for you anymore. I can only-”

“Amplify feelings that are still there,” says Steve. “I know. I'm not here to complain.”

Eddie blinks at him. “You're not?”

Steve shakes his head, averting his eyes and running a hand through the hair at the back of his head. Boyish. Bashful. Unbearably pretty.

“No, man. If anything, I think I should thank you. Things with Nancy have been going great.”

“But that can't be-” Eddie squawks. Bites his tongue. Clears his throat. “I mean … they have?”

Steve nods enthusiastically. “Oh yeah! She's really been coming around. I think this thing might actually be working.”

Eddie watches him twirl the small pouch between his fingers and needs to use all of his willpower to stop himself from blurting out the truth. That it can't be working. There's no way on earth it can be working.

Because Eddie’s a fraud. Because Eddie’s magic has been so watered down through the generations, is so thinned out and weak, he couldn't cast a functional spell if his life depended on it.

Also probably because the lock of hair in Steve’s charm isn't Nancy's, but Eddie’s. But he can't very well tell him that, can he? Not when Steve is standing in front of him with that big smile and that pretty pink blush on his face, looking so hopeful and in love it makes Eddie’s chest pull uncomfortably.

“-and she said she might be there, so I was wondering if maybe you could … I dunno, do a little extra?”

“I, um-” Eddie snaps back to the present, trying and failing to reconnect Steve's string of monologue to their previous conversation. “Sorry, what?”

Steve shakes his head at him, but his smile is kind.

“Heidi's birthday party next weekend? Nance said she might come, and I think that, if I play my cards right, I might …” He trails off and licks his lips, a thin sheen of moisture on pink skin. When his eyes meet Eddie’s again, they're hesitant. “I was hoping that, maybe, you'd know a way to increase my chances a little? Some sort of spell or whatever? I'd pay you, of course.”

Eddie knows he should turn him down. Make up some excuse, tell him he's busy. Better yet, tell him the truth. How there's no spell in the world that'll do what Steve is hoping to accomplish. How messing with people's emotions always comes back to kick you in the ass.

“Sure,” he says. “Swing my place tonight, I'll see what I can do.”

“Really?” Steve beams at him, bright like the sun. “Brilliant, thank you so much! Anything I should bring?”

“Just your fine self and the money,” Eddie says, pocketing the container with his berries and turning to go. “Oh, and I hope you're okay with dancing naked under the full moon?”

He really, really should stop this charade, sooner rather than later. It's hard, though, when Steve flushes and sputters like he does.

Maybe he'll keep it up just a little longer.

More holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles 2024

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 6 months ago

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wazzup!!

so glad to see you back! I hope you’re doing well :)

anyways I wanted to request for something, idk if you’re still doing tmnt 2007 but— wanted a bit of funny scenario. How would they react if their partner slapped their ass out of no where.

How They React To You Smacking Their Butt (Suggestive/Crack-ish)

2007!Turtles x reader

A/N: I hope this is in the direction of what you were looking for. It’s on the shorter side, but I hope you’ll still enjoy it💚

Warning: Butt smacking, implied sex.

Leonardo:

To be honest, Leo isn’t much of a fan when it comes to getting his butt smacked. The first time you smacked Leo’s behind, was a short distance away from the rest of his family. This caused Leo to turn towards you with absolute panic written all over his face, so many emotions rolling through him. His partner had just smacked his butt with his brothers and father in the room. Luckily for him, it didn’t seem like anybody noticed, but still, for a moment his soul almost left his body.

But of course you found that hilarious. And before Leo knew it, you would use this as a way to kill your boredom, when you felt like his training took too long. It would usually end with you cashing Leo around the lair in front of his whole family, with him covering his behind telling you to stop it, while you would rub your hands together, getting them ready for the ultimate smack.

Raphael:

The first time you decided to smack Raph’s behind, his reaction was to get flustered, absolutely unsure of what to do. He had done it to you several times at that point, but never had he imagined that you would do that to him. So there he stood, frozen in place, his face feeling hot while you stood laughing beside him, finding his reaction hilarious and adorable.

However the second time you did that, while Raph was walking by where you were sitting on the couch, he spun around instantly, a dark look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. This time he wouldn’t just let you get away with it, so this time he started chasing you around the lair, so that you could get a taste of your own medicine, before he would take care of your ass all night.

Donatello:

It wasn’t uncommon for you to smack Donnie’s butt, but Donnie being Donnie, would be as unbothered as he could be.

Give him a light clap as you walked by, and he wouldn’t react at all. Not a muscle. Not a word. He would simply just continue working on whatever he had in front of him.

Should you do it while his talking to someone, it wasn’t uncommon for Donnie to give you a playful push or a small kick with his finger, while trying to hide a smile.

Are you alone with Donnie feeling somewhat playful, he would sometimes stick his butt out at you, jokingly saying that you could do better than that, making you so flustered, that you either just sat down or left the room all together.

Michelangelo:

Let me just warn you; don’t smack Mikey’s butt if you can’t take the heat!

There’s no such thing as smacking your boyfriend's butt for a quick laugh. You might as well just have yelled from the other side of the room that you wanted sex, with the way Mikey would be on you in less than two seconds. Didn’t matter when or where. And that is when the laughing would start, as Mikey loves bringing some sort of humor into your intimate life.

Smack his behind while he’s speaking with someone, and Mikey would abandon whatever conversation he was in without any explanation, before heading straight for your butt, usually making you break out into a sprint, as you had smacked him for fun and wasn’t actually intending on sex… at least that was your excuse. One smack from Mikey and you were on.

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crusty-chronicles · 2 years ago

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is there any chance you could add killua for the airheaded but strong s/o headcanons? If not, then no worries, I just love how you write them!

Yeah, I don't mind but it's gonna be platonic because I'm a little iffy about writing for him romantically. He's just a boy 🥺🥺🥺 This is mostly a crack fic.

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O HEADCANNONS: Killua (HxH)

Honestly tried to kill you at one point

Oh you're strong huh?

Then proceeds to hit you with everything he's got, only to see that it hardly affected you. (Kinda like the way he first treated Zushi)

After that he's petty, but impressed.

Congratulations 🎉🎉🎉 You've earned his respect 🥳🥳🥳

You're basically Gon 2.0

And he hates it

Cannot take you two anywhere

"We should break the lock to get in." Gon suggested.

"Are you stupid?" You scoffed.

"What's the point of having a door if you're just gonna break it?"

And Killua is momentarily at peace that at least one of you has some sense. Until you open your mouth again.

"Obviously we should smash open a window."

And Gon is nodding along enthusiastically

"You're right! What would we do without you 🤩"

And Killua is just 😮‍💨.

He is the parent of the group and I will die on this hill

If Gon's the sun, you're a nuke

He's constantly dragging you away from Hisoka

Nope. Not today

Why do you insist on talking to strangers.

No scratch that.

Why do you insist on talking to creepy strangers????

It gives him a massive headache everytime you almost get abducted.

Honestly thought about putting a tracker on you to avoid this happening.

But then he remembers you're practically indestructible so he drops it.

Is afraid Illumi will come for you and hurt you.

He was never allowed to have friends, and after Illumi threatened you and Gon at the Hunter Exam, he's very protective.

But then he remembers something you said after Greed Island.

"The three of us are all gonna become the best of the best. We're gonna get all wrinkly and old together and still kick butt!!! We're gonna stick together no matter what!"

And it temporarily quells the fear of his brother.

It makes him look forward to that outcome and gives him something to fight a little harder for.

When it comes to fighting, he does get a little envious of how you and Gon just rush in without thinking.

And how you always manage to win despite the circumstance.

But he never feels left behind because of it.

Like with Gon, he won't baby you, just call you an idiot and move on.

You fell?

Get up loser.

You can't read?

Find somebody else to translate. Or he'll make you do it and be laughing nonstop while you struggle to pronounce the word "Apple"

"Gon what color's an orange?"

"An orange is the same color as it's name. Just like a lemon."

Please somebody take you two back to first grade.

Killua is begging.

Even though he won't baby you, he'll rush as fast as he can if you're in actual danger.

You got caught by the phantom troupe?

"Are you completely brain dead!?!!? Where are you!?!?"

Now he regrets not putting a tracker on you.

"This nice clown man gave me candy and told me to follow him." You tell him over CALL.

"HISOOKAAAAA!!!!"

He is screaming and panicking.

You trespassed into the mountains his family lives to see him.

"WHY???? DON'T YOU KNOW ABOUT MIKE!?!?"

And when he gets there he sees you rubbing the monstrous canine's tummy. Petting him and calling him a "Good Boy."

Names he has called you out of spite: Idiot, Moron, Dummy, Psycho, Airhead, Ditz, and probably Pea Brain

On the bright side, you are Alluka's favorite person.

"Give me your ribs."

"Oh, are you hungry? Let's see if we can't find you a smokehouse for those ribs."

And it baffles both souls so much that Nanika accepts that as fulfilling her command.

Plus you have endless amounts of energy that works to drain both girls out. Even when they've both already swapped twice.

Killua designates you her official babysitter when he's busy.

You are a complete lunatic and moron, but you're one of the people he trusts the most.

Even if he does complain about you a lot.

MASTERLIST

#killua x reader #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n #hxh killua #killua zoldyck #hunter x hunter #airhead s/o #stronk s/o #crack fic #x reader #x y/n #platonic

1K notes · View notes

aemondapologistfrfr · 8 months ago

Text

Command Me 1/2

knight!benji blackwood x strong!fem!reader //

oc!brandon stark x strong!fem!reader

Summary: Your mother thinks it’s best you marry sooner rather than later and betrothes you to a man you’ve never met from the north. The only say you have in your life at the moment is picking out a sworn protector. Your marriage leaves you unhappy and unfulfilled and Benji has no problem helping in anyway he can.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, mentions of murder, arranged marriage, wine, age gap, marriage duties, unhappy marriage, moon tea, cheating, oral(f receiving), p in v, bit angsty ngl

Authors Note: request from @chainsawsangel, no explicit detail of oc!stark and y/n intimate moments

Word Count: 5.4k

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

My ears start ringing as my mother’s words start to float around my head. I focus on my breathing as I feel like I’m gasping for air. The council members nod around the table as I can hear the blood pumping throughout my body. She places her hand on mine and looks to me expectantly.

“What?” I shake my head confused.

“I asked if you wanted to travel back with Cregan to meet your betrothed.” she says with a smile that tells me I’ll have a scolding later.

“Absolutely not.” I take my hand from hers and place it in my lap.

“That is fine, Princess. My uncle won’t mind coming down here for you.” he offers me a smile that doesn’t seem genuine.

“He shouldn’t since he’s my king consort.” I scoff.

“Y/n.” my mothers tone low and warning.

“I await his arrival in anticipation, my Lord.” I nod my head and push my chair back against the stone. If looks could kill my mother would have me stringed up against the council chamber walls. I walk out of the hall and practically start sprinting out of the castle.

“Princess!” guards shout after me as I take a horse from the courtyard and gallop into the city. The city folk move out of my way as I race to the pits. I abandon the horse outside and call for the dragon keepers to wake my dragon. The ground begins to shutter as my dragon emerges.

“Hello my handsome boy.” I coo as he pushes into me. I admire his black scales that simmer the brightest lilac in the sun and begin to mount. Once my clips are in place he’s running us out of the pit as we both share the sentiment to get out of this city. As we fly over Kings Landing my dragon gives a fearsome cry and we shoot off to the Kings Wood.

The breeze flows through my hair and I finally feel some relief. I lean down and hug my dragon as he offers me a deep rumble. I beat my mother by two years for youngest dragon rider. I was five when I first mounted him and he brought us about the city giving high pitched screeches at the common folk. Ever since then we would disappear for a week or more to just fly and explore.

She would send countless parties in search of me but we quickly found caves that would keep us hidden. She’s learned where I go now so I decide to just stick to the Kings Wood to avoid the yelling I’m sure to receive. We land in the cover of the tree canopies by the lake and sprawl out in the sun. I rest my head on his tail as he buries his head into the tall grass scaring away the mice and bugs.

“I can’t believe she would marry me off to some old northerner.” I sigh looking up at the clouds. My dragon offers me a deep chuff.

I hear the high pitched dragon call before I see him. As Caraxes comes into view I sigh at her sending him. She knows that we butt heads like bulls so I’m not sure what she’s expecting from this. Daemon lands and begins to walk over to me and my dragon raises his head and bares his teeth.

“Relax, mother would kill me.” I pat my dragons thigh chuckling and look to Daemon expectantly.

“Sometimes I wonder how you’re not my child.” he chuckles as he approaches.

“I don’t know why you would think that. You never raised me and still don’t.” I look up to him from the ground intent on staying where I am.

“Fair enough,” he sits on the ground and looks to me with a taunting smile.

“What?” I snap sitting up.

“Your mother wants you back at the Keep. She wants you to pick out a sworn protector for yourself.” he studies me as I roll my eyes.

“As if I’ll have a choice in the matter.” I push myself up and my dragon rises behind me. I mount him and leave Daemon behind at the lake. When I land back at the pits my mother is there waiting for me with a furrowed brow. The carriage ride back to the Keep is silent and when we stop in the inner courtyard I try to run off to my chambers but she stops me.

“What’s wrong?” she searches my eyes.

“I don’t want to marry some second son from the north who I’ve never met and you think allowing me to pick a sworn protector will fix that?” I rise my hands at a loss.

“Into the Keep now.” she says lowly and I see the eyes on us from around the grounds. She brings us into her solar and I huff sitting on the couch.

“You remind me so much of my younger self.” she hums with a soft smile.

“Mm,” I nod my head wanting to be back with my dragon or in my chambers.

“You may find love with Brandon.” my mother tries to hide her wince.

“So that’s his name. How bland. Brandon the Bland I should call him.” I groan throwing my head back against the couch.

“Y/n I worked hard to make this match. You will treat him with respect. He comes from an honorable and noble house.” her voice starts rising.

“I don’t care if he’s noble,” I shake my head angry. “I don’t know him, I don’t want him,” I feel tears start forming and I wipe them away frustrated with the world.

“Sweet girl,”

“Don’t sweet girl me.” I rise from the couch. “I’m tempted to get in my dragon and flee to where you’ll never find me.” I run out of her chambers and straight into Jace. I push him back and he calls after me.

I seal myself in my chambers and let my tears flow freely. I don’t care about a husband or a sworn protector. I don’t care about the crown or ruling. I hear the whispers everyday about who my father is and how dark my hair is. I don’t want to be ridiculed for the entirety of my rule especially with some man who doesn’t even know me.

“I’m not here to baby you. Get up and let’s go.” Daemons voice comes from the other side of the door.

“I’m not going anywhere.” I yell back through the wood. He pushes the door open harshly and grabs my arm pulling me with him.

“Your mother has been inviting these knights here for well over a moon. You will not embarrass her.” he says through his teeth pulling me down the stairs. I start to push and hit his hand off as the servants in the hall advert their eyes from our spat. We stumble down the rest of the stairs and we stare at each other waiting to see what the other does. I go to pull my arm back and he pulls me closer with a scowl on his face.

“Get the fuck off of me.” I spit out at him.

“You’re causing a scene.” he tugs me along to the hall and as we enter all of the knights turn to look at me. I push Daemon off of me and look over the men before me with a raised chin and a death glare.

“Leave.” I wave off Daemon and the men before me look at the ground as if it’s the most interesting.

“Step forward if you’re from Kings Landing or the Queens guard.” I hum and a handful of men step forward. “You are dismissed.” I nod them to the door and they look at me with their mouth agape and I look at the five remaining men.

“If you are from the north step forward.” two men slowly step forward. “You are dismissed.” I look over them unamused.

“You three are the only remaining.” I offer them a serpentine smile. “Tell me why I should choose you.” I take a seat and watch them look at me.

“I am a Dornish Swordsman and trained along side Ser Criston-“

“A mistake. You are dismissed.” I wave him off and place my head in my hand bored. “Next.”

“Princess,” the man older than Daemon nods his head. “I trained this young man here. He was recently knighted and easily my best student. Anything and everything he knows, I taught him.” he sounds proud.

“So the most obvious choice is him then? You’re old and withering and he’s young,” I look over the man next to him who only seems to be a handful of years older than me. “Did you even come here to try for a place as my sworn protector?” I look over the old man.

“I- Princess, I’m-“

“Enough,” I wave him off. “You’re dismissed.”

I turn my head back to the man in front of me and tilt my head. I study him with squinted eyes and can see that he has the muscle required for this job. He’s easy on the eyes which will be a welcome reprieve if my betrothed isn’t. He stands with a puffed out chest and confidence pouring off of him and I rise and walk in front of him. I look up to him and he nods his head down to me.

“Tell me your name.” I look into his eyes and smile when I see no fear.

“Ser Benjicot Blackwood.” his voice flows through my ears like honey.

“Mm a Riverman,” I smile. “I’ve had some great times in taverns outside Raventree Hall when I was on the run.” I chuckle thinking back.

“On the run from what, my Princess?” he offers me a soft smile.

“My life and duties.” I shrug. “It looks like you’re the last knight standing Benji.” his spine straightens at the name.

“It seems that I am.” he nods chewing his lip, the only sign that he has some nerves about being dismissed.

“Then you shall be my new sworn protector.” a smile pulls across my face as his shoulders relax and he returns my smile.

“Y/n,” my mother bursts into the hall in a rampage.

“I’ve chosen Benji.” I turn to her with a smile and she looks him over.

“You didn’t even give the other men a chance.” she seethes. “Why must everything be like this with you?” she sighs shaking her head.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Today is the day Brandon gets to Kings Landing and I try to convince the maester I’m sick and can’t meet him. He knows my antics and deems me healthy. I’m being tied into a gown as pins are being stuck into my head holding my braids in place. I kick my handmaidens out after hours saying I just needed a moment to myself and I’ll be down shortly.

“Are you ready, Princess?” Benjis voice comes through my doors.

“Can you come in?” my voice soft and he slips into my chambers leaving the door open.

“What can I do for you, Princess?” he looks over my dress and I see him swallow before his eyes make his way to mine.

“Did you see him?” my voice hushed.

“I did.” he nods standing up straighter.

“Do you think he’s handsome?” I pick at my nails.

“I don’t know how to answer that.” he says clearing his throat.

“Benji,” I whine. “It’s simple. Does he look old and decrepit or does he look like you?” his eyes snap to mine and I smirk at him.

“Your betrothed is waiting for you, Princess.” he turns to walk out of my chambers and I sigh and walk to his side.

As we make our way down to the main hall I groan and drag my feet. Benji chuckles and slows his pace to stay with me. Over the past moon I’m thankful everyday to this man for traveling here to become my sworn protector. He jokes with me and keeps me company. He is also handsome which I never cease to remind him as his cheeks tint.

“If I asked you to kill my betrothed would you?” I whisper to Benji.

“It is my duty to do anything you ask of me.” he nods his head and I smile.

As we walk into the hall my stomach drops as my eyes land on Brandon. My mother can’t possibly be serious. This man has to have almost two decades on me. I find my mother and I scrunch my eyebrows at her and begin walking to her.

“Princess,” a gruff voice stops my feet as I turn to Brandon who is looking over my body like a starved man. I step back into Benji and he steadies me.

“You’re Brandon I presume?” I raise my eyebrow looking up to him.

“I am.” he grabs my hand much to my horror and places a wet kiss on it.

“How kind.” I hope my disgust isn’t written over my face.

“Y/n,” my mother’s worried voice calls me over to her side and I’m practically sprinting to her.

“I would rather die than marry that man.” I hiss to my mother.

“That’s enough. You will be married by the end of this moon and that’s final.” I feel so stuck and I turn and see that Brandon is walking back over here.

“Could I offer you a walk through the gardens, Princess?” Brandon offers me his and I stare at it and look to my mother who nods encouragingly.

“Sure,” I sigh. “Benji let’s go.” I nod my head for him to follow.

“Your dog doesn’t need to come with.” Brandon chuckles and I cement my feet.

“He is not my dog. You will treat my sworn protector with respect or I’ll have him take your tongue.” I look over Brandon who is smiling.

“Feisty, I like it.” he smiles grabbing my arm and tugging me out of the hall.

It takes all of my strength not to rip my arm out of his hand. I lead us to the gardens and the silence is anything but comfortable. I look at Brandon out of the corner of my eye and see his years written on his wrinkled forehead. I shiver of disgust runs through me as we enter the gardens. He leads us to the nearest table and sits down and I take a place across from him.

“You are more beautiful than Cregan lead on.” he hums licking his lips.

“Did he say anything else?” I drawl looking him over.

“That I would probably have to wear you down a bit but that’s not an issue, I have great stamina.” he winks at me and I know there’s no hiding the horror on my face. “Mm tell me, do you still have your maidenhead?” his smile makes me feel disgusting.

“Is that anyway to speak to a Princess?” Benjis voice just short of a growl.

“She’s to be my wife, boy.” Brandon looks over him and turns his eyes back to me. “Well do you or are you sullied?”

“I do.” my voice barely a whisper as I feel my cheeks heat.

“There’s one plus.” he leans back in his seat and looks me over. “I thought you Targaryens were supposed to have silver hair?” he tilts his head.

“The Gods are mysterious.” I clench my jaw. How could my mother do this to me? I know I wasn’t the easiest child to raise but she can’t possibly think I will be willing to wed this man. My heart starts to beat rapidly and I’m getting overwhelmed.

“What’s wrong with you now?” Brandon narrows his eyes at me.

“Benji can you take me to the maester? I feel faint.” I reach for his arm and he’s bending down and helping me to my feet instantly.

“What’s wrong?” Benjis voice is rushed as he searches my face.

“I’m hot and I just can’t breathe.” I all but gasp as we make it into the Keep.

“Just a bit further, Y/n.” he keeps a steady hand around my waist and on out for me to hold on to.

“Thank you, Benji.” I sigh in relief as we make it to the maesters chambers.

“Princess what’s wrong?” the maester helps me lay on the bed.

“She said she’s overheating and her breathing was heavy.” Benji says brushing my hair back.

“Were you doing something strenuous?” the maester asks as he fills me a glass of water.

“No, I was just-“

“What’s happened?” my mother bursts into the room.

“Mother,” my voice breaks as I reach out to her. “Please, don’t make me, please,” I start crying and Benji and the maester look worried.

“What do you mean sweet girl?” she shushes me kneeling at my side.

“I’ll be better,” I hiccup. “Don’t make me marry that old man, please, mother.” a tear slips down my cheek.

“Leave us.” she waves her hand at Benji and the maester who are shutting the door behind them quickly. “What possibly could’ve happened?” she sits back looking over my state.

“He made remarks about bedding me and he made remarks about who my father was.” I sit up looking to her with pleading eyes. “Mother please,” I feel the tears start to well up.

“Just give it a chance. Maybe he was just excited to see such a beautiful young woman.” she offers me a smile and I sigh knowing I don’t have a choice.

“I will keep Benji with me. I don’t want to be alone with Brandon.” I shake my head furrowing my brows.

“Of course you two shouldn’t be alone before you wed.” she nods her head.

“I don’t want to wed him mother, please.” my voice breaking again as I continue to plead.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It feels as if there are rocks in my stomach as I’m twirled around the dance floor. Brandon pulls me back against him and dips down to my ear. His tongue trails along the outer shell and I try to pull back but he holds me firm. When he lifts his head he chuckles at my red cheeks and the crowd claps as our dance ends.

“Go get a drink and stop being so uptight.” I slip into the crowd trying to keep a smile pinned on my face as I head to find wine. Gods know I’ll need it for tonight. I can’t believe my mother made me go through with this.

The servant offers me a fresh glass and congratulations on my marriage and I smile and nod. I walk to the outskirts of the crowd and try to calm my nerves. I focus on my breathing and let the hall and celebrations fade away.

“I wanted to tell you that you look absolutely divine, Princess. I know it’s not my place but I needed to tell you.” Benjis voice is barely a whisper as I turn to him.

“I wish I wed you tonight.” I feel the tears form and ready to fall.

“Princess,” Benjis voice strained.

“I know,” I shake my head wiping my eyes. “Just don’t leave me, please.” my eyes pleading.

“Anything you ask.” he nods his head. “I am sworn to you.”

“Thank you.” I finish my glass of wine and head back over to Brandon.

“Feeling better?” Brandon pulls me against him.

“Much.” I smile trying to pretend I’m not repulsed at his touch.

“The Princess and I will retire for the night.” he announces loudly and there are rowdy cheers that follow. I feel like my legs are about to give out as he starts to pull me off the dais. I search frantically around the hall for Benji even though I know he can’t stop what’s to come.

“I’ll escort you both.” Benji comes behind us as Brandon chuckles.

“Do you expect to witness the act itself too, boy?” Brandon roars out a laugh.

“No.” I say quickly.

“Embarrassed, my innocent wife?” I feel my cheeks heat and I bite my tongue deciding to stay silent. We stop outside of his chambers and he pulls me inside sealing the door leaving Benji on the other side.

I knew what tonight was going to entail but I had hoped he would’ve been more kind and caring of my needs and wants. I performed my duty as best as I could but it didn’t make it any more enjoyable or less painful. He pulls me up from the bed and pushes me out of his doors leaving me in the halls in my slip holding my wedding dress. I look down at the stone floor as it cools my bare feet.

“Princess?” Benjis voice is soft as he stands in front of me.

“Can you please take me back to my chambers?” I whisper continuing to look down.

He pulls his cape off and wraps it around me. I drop my wedding gown outside Brandon’s chambers as I cling to the cape. As we start up the stairs I wince at the pain between my thighs. We make it to my chambers and a sob of relief bubbles out of me. I turn towards Benji to thank him and see that his jaw is set and he looks ready to murder someone.

“I need you to command me to stay right here. In this exact spot. Or I will walk down those stairs and make you a widow.” I can feel his temper rising around us and I’m tempted to let him make me a widow this very second but this isn’t a decision to be made in haste.

“I need you here with me. I need you to find a servant to bring me water for a bath and I need you to do something with discretion.” my voice hushed as I look around the halls.

“Anything.” he nods his head searching my eyes.

“Go to the maester. Offer him good coin for his silence. Say you had a lapse in judgment and slept with a maid and you need moon tea. Please Benji, I can’t have his child.” I beg.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Brandon pushes me outside of his chambers again and I see Benji clenching his fists. He falls into step beside me as we walk silently back to my chambers. I gave up on wearing slippers to his chambers because the cool stone on the walk back helps ground me. This has been happening once every fortnight for the past three moons and I either have Benji or my personal handmaiden retrieve my moon tea.

“I’ll be back with the tea.” Benji says lowly leaving me at my chamber doors.

“Benji I don’t need,” I stutter. “He made me suck-“ I shake my head feeling my cheeks burn and I hear him deeply inhale.

“Princess,” his voice like gravel as his eyes slide to mine.

“Can you just come in with me?” my voice barely audible as I hold my door open. He sighs and follows allowing the door to shut behind us.

“What can I do for you?” he stands at my doors back ridged.

“I just need you to be here with me,” I sit and he claims the chair furthest from me. “Do you find me repulsive now that I’m sullied?” I don’t mean for my words to sound as pathetic as they do.

“I could never find you repulsive.” he replies quickly. “I think you’re the most ethereal being I’ve ever met.” his voice laced with reverence.

“Why do you think my husband wants to cause me so much pain? Or is that how it’s supposed to feel? I don’t have anyone to talk to.” I fidget my fingers and hear his sharp inhale.

“It wouldn’t hurt if he was worshiping you properly. He’s a fool he should have his face buried,” he stops himself and finds his composure. “I’m sorry, please forgive my words Princess.”

“The only place his face is buried is my neck as he ruts into me. I used to try to think of someone else in hopes that it would make it more pleasurable but when that didn’t help I just learned to keep my eyes squeezed shut and toss out a couple fake moans.” I should feel embarrassed to be divulging this to Benji but it feels so relieving to talk to someone about it.

“He should be able to tell the difference.” he shakes his head as I see his knuckles turning white from his grip on the chair.

“I don’t know I can be convincing.” I allow myself to chuckle. “Yeah, so good,” I moan followed by a whimper and I burst out in giggles as Benjis head snaps up to me.

“Has he made you come?” his dark eyes search my face.

“No.” I shake my head as my blush revives on my neck. “He just uses me and throws me out of his chambers. I could live with it if I at least got that relief but I just get to walk back to my chambers and go to bed.” I sigh leaning back in the chair.

“Can I, I want to,” he bites his lip turning away. “I should let you rest for the night.” he starts to stand.

“Say it.” I nod my head prompting him.

“Can I make you come?” my heart skips at his words and I nod my head quickly. “I need to hear you say it.” his voice wrecked.

“Can you please make me come, Benji?” I bat my eyelashes at him. He rises from the chair and stalks over to me. He towers over me before he kneels before me and begins to trail his hands up my legs spreading them. My cheeks burn as my core is exposed to his face and he looks up to me with hooded eyes.

“Has he ever kissed you here before?” he asks propping my legs on his shoulders.

“No,” I shake my head gasping at the coolness of his metal armor on my calves.

“May I?” he looks up to me as he places soft kisses on the inside of my thighs.

“Please Benji,” I reply breathlessly.

He licks up my slit and my chest heaves. His tongue circles my neglected bud and I push my hips into his mouth. Whimpers pour from my mouth as he pulls me flush against his face. He moans into my center as my hips grind against him. I brush against his nose and I moan loudly burying my hand in his hair holding him close. I continue to buck against him as he laps at me.

“Benji, I-“ I sob as pleasure washes over me and his tongue continues to work me through it. He pulls back and looks up to me with a smile on his face.

“Those moans sounded nothing like what you did before.” his words laced with confidence.

“I want to come again.” I say still trying to catch my breath.

“As you command, Princess.” he dips back between my legs.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Benji is walking me back to my chambers after a particularly rough night with Brandon. I’m starting to loathe my husband more than I thought possible. Benji follows me into my chambers and seals the doors behind us.

“Your handmaiden should be back with the tea shortly.” he sits on a chair in front of me trying to gauge my emotions.

“Would you still kill him if I asked?” I look up to him and he nods.

“Just say the word.” he searches my eyes.

“Maybe we use poison or something so they won’t know it’s you.” I nibble on my lip trying to come up with a plan.

“It’d have to be one that would make him suffer. He doesn’t deserve an easy way out.” he shakes his head working himself up.

“Your devotion never ceases to amaze me.” I look to him and stand as there’s a soft knock at my door. “Thank you.” I smile at my handmaiden and click the door shut once again. I drain the contents of the cup and join Benji on the chairs again.

“When do you want him dead?” his tone low as he watches my slip rise up.

“As soon as possible. I can’t take it anymore.” I sigh stretching. “You can say no because I know where I just came from but can you make me feel good Benji? I want to forget everything.” I slide my eyes to him.

“I will always want you.” he starts to rise from his chair.

“I need you, Benji. Show me how good it can feel.” I plead as I pull him over to the bed.

We start to remove his armor and when I finally lift off his shirt and feel his bare chest I groan. He pulls my slip above my head and leaves me bare before him. He pulls me into a kiss and I melt into him as our chests mold together. I unlace his trousers and he begins to kick them off. We fall back onto the bed and I feel his hardness pressed against my leg. I buck against him waiting for him to push into me.

“There’s no rush, I’m taking my time with you.” he kisses down my neck and between my breasts. He licks across them and sucks a nipple into his mouth. I gasp as he swirls his tongue around my hardened peak and my nails hold onto his back. He chuckles and moves the next to offer it the same attention.

“Benji,” I gasp as he grazes his teeth across my nipple before pulling up.

“There’s a lot of pleasure I can show you, Princess.” he kisses down my navel and I buck my hips in anticipation. “Do you wanna come?” he chuckles pressing my hips into the bed.

“Please Benji,” I cry out as his lips attach to my bud.

As he circles his tongue I feel his fingers glide through my wetness and I squirm. He slips two fingers into my core and I whine squeezing my thighs around his head. When he curls his fingers I feel my high building in my lower stomach. My whines become more high pitched the faster he pumps his fingers.

“Benji right there, yes,” I gasp as I come undone. He slowly comes back up my body trailing soft kisses. “I need you in me.” I wrap my legs around his waist.

“Tell me if you want me to stop at any point.” his eyes look to mine and I nod kissing him softly.

He slowly pushes in and I whimper at his stretch. He slowly rocks his hips into me as I mewl clinging to him. He rolls his hips and a broken moan falls from my lips. The difference is absolutely mind blowing. The pleasure he is pulling from my body has me feeling as if I’m flying through the sky.

“How does it feel, Princess?” Benji rasps as I clench around him.

“I’m so full of you, Benji.” I gasp holding him closer. He starts to pump into me at a quicker pace and my eyes roll back. His fingers find my throbbing bud causing his name to fall from my lips like a prayer. I pulse around him losing myself to my pleasure and I feel him begin to fill me. He slides out of me and pulls me against his chest kissing my face and smoothing my hair. I feel safe and loved in his arms.

“I’m gunna kill your husband tomorrow.” he promises as he rests his forehead on mine.

“Thank you, Benji.” I capture his lips as we get lost in each other once more.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌

Part Two

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang @malfoycassimalfoy @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n

#benjicot x reader #benji blackwood #benjicot blackwood #ben blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood smut #fancast bloody ben #bloody ben x reader #bloody ben hotd #bloody ben smut #x reader smut #x reader #x reader fic #x reader imagine #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader

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00127am · 4 months ago

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delinquent! nakamoto yuta & afab! gyaru! reader about one sided enemies two sided crush, teenage love, yuta is a poser on the dl (everyone knows), he's ridiculously head over heels, lowercase intended warnings cig. smoking word count 2.1k words

AUGUST 6TH 93 degrees 📀 残機 by zutomayo

it's said that there are a few moments in life which become cemented in your mind forever without even a second thought put to them. these things are often trivial, meaningless and arbitrary--like laces on the sneakers which adorned your feet on a random tuesday afternoon or perhaps the smell of your bedroom one morning in late july. they, like most core memories, stick to the sides of your brain--unshakeable, unimportant, and above all else; unforgettable.

you suppose that, with your luck, it only makes sense for one of these moments to involve nakamoto yuta.

upperclassman nakamoto yuta who you cannot stand. not only because of his reputation (one which does not precede him in any sort of a respectable fashion) nor his attitude ("he tries too hard to be cool," you sniff, tapping the butt of your cigarette on the railing with a halfhearted flick of your wrist, "he'll never be hayato,"), nor the somewhat baffling fact that he holds the hearts of more than half the female student body (you refuse to believe that anyone could have such bad taste), nor that you can almost see the appeal if you squint--not that you would ever admit it--but rather because any and every time you manage to find a rare moment to yourself, he always finds a way to interject. and this time, separated and set apart from those previous, proves to be no different.

crouched beneath a first floor window, cigarette held between slim fingers and head ducked to hide the top of your hair, the last thing you're expecting to see in your peripheral is a pair of shoes. soccer cleats to get into the nitty gritty. a pair of faded, ugly, white (much more yellow than anything else) coated in a mix of turf and dirt (or at least you hope that's what it is) cleats. the only thing more surprising then the shoes themselves is the fact that they're barreling out of the window behind you. laces just half an inch from your eye lashes, spiked bottoms missing your thighs by just a margin. a movement so fast, so jarring, that it leaves your hands limp and your cigarette lost. a curse teetering on the edge of your tongue as you scramble back, head hitting the concrete of the wall with a dull thump--swear leaping from the edge only to be swallowed back by the bite of your tongue.

for without even looking to the face of their owner, you're able to make an educated guess in no more than two seconds. a reluctant, resigned, resistant reckoning that turns your stomach and hints at the beginning of a headache. one which perhaps could be attributed to the consequence of the wall but is more likely to to be due to him.

"are you kidding me?" you hiss in a low whisper, wagging an accusatory finger in front of his face accompanied only by a scowl as you tilt your head back--peering over the edge of the windowsill to try and catch a glimpse of just who exactly he was running from, "you almost killed me!"

the perpetrator in question teeters back on his heels, falling flat onto his back as he returns your seething visage with a dumbfounded stare--mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, fumbling for a response that's just out of reach. he has that look on his face that he always has when he runs into you. the one that makes him look like he's got the air knocked straight out of his lungs in one fell swoop. your friends (ever playing cupid) attribute it solely to lovesickness while you yourself find it to be akin much closer to plain and simple stupidity.

shaken from his stone-esque stupor, he sits up with a dramatic huff. brushing off the dust and dirt he acclaimed from his leap before slowly peeking through the above window. yuta waves you off dismissively, attention clearly elsewhere as he scans the hallway. despite his inattentiveness, and against all common sense, he's acutely aware of your presence.

shoulders back and posture straightened (as much as it can be when you're crouched on the ground looking utterly of fault). jaw angled in a way that accentuates the sharp structure of his face, showing you only his left side. the same left side your upperclassman prefers, insisting on some nonsense about how he's significantly more handsome from this view than on the opposing right (if you were asked which side was better, you would said neither. though if you truly had to pick, you suppose that they're both equally as aggravatingly attractive). a slender hand comes up to brush through his long, blonde hair as he cranes his head back slightly--swallowing as his tongue pushes at the inside of his cheek in a poorly formed habit he just hasn't been able to shake. yuta turns to you, all suave and handsome with an eyebrow raised and the hints of a charming smile twitching on the edges of his lips and--

you're not even looking.

the deflation of his stature is instantaneous, slouching as he turns to the wall, sliding down the concrete until he hits the grass with a quiet thump. brows knitted and countenance scrunched up as if he had just taken a bite of a lemon, his messy blonde hair falling before his eyes and sheltering away the tiniest hint of a pout tugging on his lower lip. one that you would tease him relentlessly about if you saw. though perhaps yuta prefers that alternative to this one. the one where is he exempt from all your scrutiny, every bit of your focus being dedicated to the much more daunting task of removing blades of grass from your legwarmers.

he huffs, clicking his tongue with a flick of his wrist. the edges of his words seared with a newfound dismissal that for all intents and purposes is meant to sound irritated yet manages to be anything but. "how was i supposed to know you were here,"

this in and of itself is true. upperclassman, poser delinquent, yuta nakamoto didn't know you were here. sure when he saw the open window and smelled a hint of your favorite brand he might have hoped it. but he didn't know. in fact, he'd attribute it more to fate. divine intervention. red string theory?

(all of which could maybe apply if not for the fact that the boy passed by seven open windows and five possible hiding spots before getting to his chosen one. one which he knows is your "secret" smoke spot and that the chances of you being there is greater then twenty-percent.)

you acknowledge his previous statement only to ignore it. choosing instead to lift your long forgotten cigarette, holding it in front of his eyes with the beginnings of a sneer forming on your puffy, lip-glossed-lined lips. the object of your acclaimed appraise has been damaged. well, more than damaged. punctured beyond repair, tobacco leaking out of the wounds in a manner which would have it medically declared as ex-sanguine (or would is be ex-bacco?). an undeniable pattern of gaping impalements that match up perfectly to the studded underside of his cleats. and by the looks of it, the judge, jury, and executioner are already set on his penance--after all, the evidence is undeniable.

as the prosecution rests, the defendant raises an unamused brow. dark eyes flickering to your own as he looks to you expectantly, pleading the fifth as he awaits his long-decided sentencing.

"this was my last one,"

ouch, last of a lineage. that's certainly not earning him any brownie points. he bites the inside of his cheek, tilting his head just a centimeter closer to his shoulder as he watches you with a faux expression of disinterest. "so?"

despite yourself, you laugh. or was that a scoff? yuta hopes it was a laugh. prays. that airy sound as pretty as a songbird, the one he lingers in the hallway outside your classroom to hear every once and a while (the same one that is usually interrupted when you spot him, groaning loudly about your stalker. he's not stalking, he swears. he just happens to end up in that same spot every morning!)

"so?" you echo incredulously, lips parted and eyes wide, "so you owe me one, nakamoto",

in the following three seconds after your statement, you seem to rethink your demands, tongue pressed against the back of your teeth and nose scrunched in concentration. it's in these same three seconds that yuta has decided to replay the sound of his name (lack of honorific aside) falling from your pretty lips over and over and over again until the word doesn't necessarily sound real--vowels too long and consonants too sharp. but he supposes it doesn't really matter as long as its in your voice.

"actually, you owe me more than one. a pack," you decide, narrowing your eyes as you prod repeatedly at his shoulder (if you noticed the way he practically leaned into it, you didn't show it), "penance for emotional damage and totally ruining my appearance,"

"as if. you look fine," he scoffs with a partnered roll of his eyes. liar. you look more than fine. in fact yuta can describe you in more than fifty adjectives. ten in other languages too if he really runs out. pretty, beautiful, jaw-dropping, gorgeous, cute--

"ugh," you scowl, dropping your gaze as you clench your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to will the oncoming flush to your face away (it doesn't work as half as well as you hope it does), "better than you, maybe. at least i don't insist on dressing like a wannabe yabuki hayato," the insult, swiftness of your quip, and the finger jabbed in his direction does little to hide the fluster to your tone, something you're afraid he picks up as easily as you do.

if you stopped to think about it for more than a sheer half of a second, you would probably realize that you might be projecting. that poser, upperclassman yuta nakamoto does look like yabuki hayato. but probably not because he intends too. if you thought about it for that singular one second, you'd also realize that it's a little embarrassing to continually compare your nemesis to your well-known character crush.

"i don't take fashion advice from a gal," he shakes off your finger only for you to double your efforts as you lean forward. hands placed precariously close to his thighs, faces just a foot away. so close that if he really lost his mind, he could close the distance almost instantaneously.

and he might really lose his mind. because now one of your hands has made its dutiful journey upwards. hovering before long strands of faux blonde before reaching forward and giving a somewhat harsh (albeit earned) tug. your voice is low and playful as he winces, a lopsided grin forcing your eyes into crescents. "rich coming from someone who could pass as a gyarou,"

"as if," he smacks your hand away halfheartedly, a touch more teasing than anything else. his knuckles pressed against your palm, hesitating for a beat too long before it's covered up with the sudden sideways angle of his jaw--poorly portraying an imitation of irritation. one not sold very convincingly with the red tint to the full of his cheeks. "i'm more of the prince type,"

"prince?" your mouth hangs open in disbelief, blinking back at him like he's got screw loose (with you at this distance, he's sure he has lost more than one), "oh you're more delusional than i thought,"

and in classic yuta fashion, he denies you the privilege of a proper response, choosing instead to hear only what he wants too. he leans forward, raising a brow as his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek. the epitomical expression of cavalier cockiness.

"think of me often?"

most things associated with yuta nakamoto can be described simultaneously along with the boy himself. irritating, flashy, rip-your-hair-out obnoxious. a plethora of colorful vocabulary that you seem to have no shortage of.

and it's this vocabulary which manages to completely escape you as you stare down at your desk. the same desk adorned with a pack of candy cigarettes (complete with a messily tied bow, which does add up. you're fifty percent positive he doesn't know how to tie his shoes) and a shoddily ripped out piece of paper that sits gracefully next to it. a torn out scrap of a notebook that you're positive everyone in the room as read at least once (and your closet friends thrice).

note. i might have forgotten to post this yesterday, my bad. sometimes i just be writing stuff. this is one of those. does it have a plot? no! does it make sense? not really! is there any cohesive great writing? probably not. but is it my beloved yukkuri? yes!

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holylulusworld · 1 month ago

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Snap of fingers (6)

Summary: You only tried to become friends with wings.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Creature!(fem)Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Crowley, Castiel

Warnings: language, creature reader, fun, cocky reader

Snap of fingers masterlist

Catch up here: Snap of fingers (5)

“Sooo, you’re an angel of the Lord?” You ask, looking Castiel, the trench coat-wearing angel, up and down. “Hmm…you don’t look very angelic. There’s no halo, wings, or even sparkles or stuff.”

You’re disappointed. It’s the first time you met an angel, and he looks like a middle-aged dude in an ugly trench coat. He even wears a boring tie.

“Dean,” Castiel doesn’t answer. He worriedly looks at his friend, ready to attack you if needed. “What is this creature doing here? She’s dangerous to be around.”

“Why?” Dean cocks his head. “She’s living with us for months and nothing happened. Y/N is not a monster nor a creature. She has a special power, is all. Just like you with your grace.”

“That’s not the same, Dean,” the angel argues. “If she decides you’re her enemy, she could kill you. Both.” Sternly looking in your direction, Castiel huffs. “Let me bring her away.”

“Hey, I thought you were nice,” you pout at Castiel. “There I was thinking angels are cool and all shiny. But you’re a butt.”

“A butt?” Castiel furrows his brows.

“Yeah,” you nod eagerly. “You’re a butt, Mr. Angel. I don’t like you.” Pointing your index finger at Castiel, you stick your tongue out. “I’ll get some food now. You better not follow me, or I’ll throw a pie at you.”

“Not my pie!” Dean hastily says. “Sweetheart, do not throw my pie at him!”

“Pie?” Castiel is as confused as when he first met the Winchesters, or humans in general. “Dean, she could easily kill any being in this world. Maybe even archangels.”

Dean furrows his brows. How can the woman who fought alongside the brothers be a threat to them? You did nothing wrong. Killing monsters or demons to keep them from abusing your powers is not evil in his eyes.

Castiel shakes his head. He can see in Dean’s eyes that you already sneaked your way into his heart and life. The angel keeps an eye on you fighting with a bag of chips.

“Dammit, open. I’m hungry and want to throw food at wings,” you grunt and curse, fighting with the bag until you rip it into two halves. The chips end up on the ground – leaving you hungry and frustrated.

“Y/N.” Sam sighs deeply. He just cleaned the floor. “Why did you do this?”

“Fucking chips,” you grunt and stomp onto the chips. “I wanted something to eat. What the fuck is wrong with the universe?” You throw your hands up. “Angels should be nice. But the first one I meet wants to kill me. I want to eat chips, but they end up on the ground. And there’s the perfect dick I want to ride, but it belongs to a good friend.”

Dean chokes on his spit. He coughs as you glance at his crotch. “Sweetheart, we have more than enough food in the kitchen and the fridge, and if that’s not enough, I’m hiding the good stuff in my secret stash.”

“Secret stash,” you purr, and step closer to Dean, poking his bicep. “What are you hiding in your secret stash? Chocolate? Candy? Pie?”

Dean smirks as you grab his wrist, tugging at it. “Easy there, tiger. If you’re hungry, let me make you something good. How about my infamous bacon burger?”

“Raise me to pie, and we have a deal.” You grin, eyes drifting toward Castiel, who is gripping his angel blade tightly.

“You’ll get a slice of pie if you stop looking at Castiel as if he’s an enemy. I know he can be a little overwhelming at first, but he’s a good guy.”

“Hmm…” You watch the angel with interest. “His vessel is dead. What did he do to the poor guy he possessed?”

“It wasn’t my intention to lose him, Jimmy,” Castiel says, eyes dropping to the angel blade in his hands. He mostly doesn’t dare to think about the man whose life he stole in more than one way.

“Hopefully he’s in heaven for playing your meat suit,” you snap at Castiel. “Who’s the creature here, huh? At least I didn’t steal this body.” You roam your body with your hands. “This is all me.”

“Yeah,” Dean hums as he follows your hands with his eyes. “All you…”

“Dean!” Castiel tries to stop the hunter from falling for you even more. “This is not the time for this…”

“Can you two stop fighting?” Dean sighs deeply. “Cas, listen. Y/N has special powers, but she’s not an enemy or dangerous. She can control her powers.”

Castiel nods, but his eyes flash blue for a second.

“Y/N,” Dean softly says. “Castiel can be stubborn, but he’s no threat. No snapping his ass to heaven or crap.”

“I don’t even know if my powers work on an angel,” you say while looking Castiel up and down. “I wouldn’t want to waste his vessel’s sacrifice by killing the angel. This wouldn’t be fair. If he’s no threat to you or me, I won’t mind having him around.”

Twirling around, you walk away, whistling for Dean to follow you. You start chatting about his secret stash, while Castiel watches your interactions with interest.

“She’s no threat,” Sam assures the angel. “So far, she controlled her powers and only killed demons or monsters. And she only kills the ones attacking her. Y/N is not looking for a fight. She tries to stay out of them most of the time…”

Tags in reblog.

#dean winchester #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #Snap of fingers (6)#x reader #creature reader

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justatypicalwizard · 2 months ago

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Meta-isekai | K. Bakugo ✧ Act I Scene I

-`♡´- In which Bakugo gets isekaied into a shoyo romance. -`♡´-

Peak stupidity ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Act I 𓆩⚝𓆪

Scene I: What the fucking fuck?

𖹭 Katsuki woke up but not in his dorm room, rather in something that resembled his bedroom at home.

𖹭 What the fuck? He thought as he threw his legs over the bedsheets and stood up. Something was off. Was he stuck in a quirk?

𖹭 On his desk sat a fat black cat. Katsuki didn’t own a can so the sight of the animal caught him off guard.

𖹭 ‘’What the fuck?” He said out loud.

‘’Why are you cursing at me first thing in the morning?” The cat answered.

Katsuki’s hand shot in the air, straight into the cat's fluffy face. He gathered his strength and… nothing happened. Not even a spark from his palm.

‘’You’re acting weird.” The cat hummed and started licking its butt.

With eyes wide open Katsuki headed back towards the bed, hopped inside and curled under the sheets trying to cope with what was happening. This must be some kind of a quirk and he’s in danger now. The fight is happening around him but he doesn’t hear or feel anything because he’s under some sort of illusion. How can he get out?

‘’Going back to bed is not like you. Come on, we have stuff to do.” The cat persisted as it jumped on the bed sheets. ‘’Wait.’’ It zeroed in on Katsuki’s face, nearing him gently, paw after paw. ‘’You’re not my Katsuki.”

𖹭 Katsuki wanted to grab the cat to pin it in place but it slipped out of his fingers leaving only a few black hairs in the place he the blonde tried to grab him. Katsuki started to shout and jumped out of the bed trying to get close to the poor animal. This evoked a deafening hiss as the cat started to flee.

𖹭 The door slammed open and his angry mum entered the room. ‘’What the heck are you doing? Get ready for school, brat.” She shouted even louder than the cat and slammed the door back closed hard enough to make the walls shake.

𖹭 But Katsuki didn’t live with his mother anymore.

𖹭 ‘’Can you please stop trying to kill me? I see that something is wrong and I’m trying to work it out too!” The cat hid on the wardrobe. ‘’I told you, you’re not my Katsuki, what have you done with him?”

‘’How the hell am I not that Katsuki? There’s only one Katsuki and It’s me!”

‘’Nuh-uh.” The cat, very slowly, neared the crease of the wardrobe and jumped down. It sniffed the air next to where Katsuki was standing all the while observing the man. ‘’You’re from a different world.” It stated matter-of-factly.

Katsuki wanted to start chasing the creature again for making him an idiot but the can was smarter this time.

‘’I know it sounds stupid but look around you! Is this your room?” This made his stop. ‘’Do you have a talking cat in your universe? And why are you trying to intimidate me with your open palm? Stop sticking it my way!” Shit, Katsuki’s done it instinctively.

‘’Listen, something is off and you are not the right Katsuki, not my Katsuki. You’re Not-Katsuki. I don’t know why this happened, I’ll try to find out though. Still you’re stuck with me here for a while so I night as well tell you my name.”

The cat hopped back on the desk, back bathing in the morning sun that made its fur shine in a weird pinkish manner.

‘’My name’s Black Cat and I’m your magical companion.” It bowed its head. ‘’My mission is, and has been for some time now, to help you achieve friendship and love. I’m like your Fairy Godmother. For the last year and a half I have been trying to help you and well it went…” Suddenly the cat went silent.

‘’It went what?”

‘’Let’s just say I had more diligent love-students under my paws for the last eternity or so.” To which Katsuki could only blink a few times because he never thought he would hear such a sentence in his life. ‘’Whatever place you came from, good news is, I can send you back.”

‘’Thank god, do it now.”

“The problem is-” The blonde groaned and the cat hissed. “Listen to me brat! The problem is making you travel to a parallel dimension will cost an immense amount of power, and I don’t have such a reserve right now!”

‘’Then focus or some shit.”

“It’s not like that. My power comes from you, you and your friendships and loves.”

“What do you want me to do!” Katsuki’s voice was getting alarmingly loud again.

‘’Shut it unless you want your mum to come in again and see you talking to an empty desk. Only you can see me, dummy.” The cat stuck out its small tongue. “What you have to do is find friendship and love big enough to gather tons of energy for me.”

“I’m not buying that shit.”

“Just, listen to me please. I want my Katsuki back. Besides you don’t know whether my Katsuki isn’t in your place now. What world do you come from?”

𖹭 Suddenly, Katsuki imagined a random guy, version of himself or whatever, with not idea what a quirk is, standing in his shoes. This could cost him all the hard work he’d put in over the years to become a hero. Heck, that guy could kill someone by accident if he never used his quirk.

𖹭 “I need to go back. Me, I mean him, everyone else, fuck it this is a piece of shit situation.”

Katsuki started to pace the room with the cat observing him carefully.

‘’What? My Katsuki is going to kill someone in your world?”

‘’I have a quirk - a superpower where I can create explosions out of my hands. It took me years to get rid of the reflex of exploding something anytime I got irritated. How do you think a version of me that never experienced this quirk will react?”

“Oh shit. We need to get you back quickly.”

“Mhm.” Katsuki nodded.

“Okay, listen. I know how we can pool enough energy for me to send you back.”

“I’m listening.”

The cat straightened and crossed his hands as if he was a human.

“For the last year and a half I’ve been trying to help my Katsuki by creating some meaningful friendships and confessing love to his crush. It did go somewhere, at least on the friends part, but not enough for me to ascend (so essentially leave him). If you could, in a short period of time, achieve what he couldn’t in over a year, we might be able to gather a lot of power that would not run away if you’re quick.”

“So, make friends and get a girl.”

“Essentially.”

“You’re lucky I’m good at winning.” Katsuki smirked.

“Well, it would be a win-win-win honestly. You’d go back to your world. My Katsuki would come back here straight into his dream-come-true and I could finally leave him.”

“You don’t seem to like him/me.”

“I’m more on the lazy side while my Katsuki was a handful.” The cat lied down showing its belly. “But there’s one thing I must warn you about. I am tied to my Katsuki, not you. As my Katsuki is somewhere in your hand-explosion world he can no longer make wishes and dreams about this reality. What this means is that if you fail to make his highschool dreams come true you’ll most probably be stuck in this world forever. Stuck with me at that because I can only leave you if you’re happy enough or dead. You have only one shot at this. Also, if it’ll take you too long to make all the wishes come true I won’t be able to gather enough power at one time to blast you back home.

Are you still in?”

Katsuki neared the desk which made the cat stumble onto its side. The morning sun made the blonde’s eyes glint with irritation but a smirk was plastered on his face. Crossing his arms on his chest he looked down on the cat.

“I already told you I always fucking win.”

“Please never tell me about your homeworld. I don’t want to know what mended you into this shape.”

#katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugou #bakugo #mha bakugou #mha #boku no hero x reader #mha bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x female reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha

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driaswrld · 1 year ago

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what was i made for? — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 1.3k

summary : reader and the boys go through the aftermath of the star plasma vessel incident, which leaves reader questioning just how much things have changed and if there's even a way to move forward from here.

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : this is readers pov of how things are going, and im hoping to do satoru and suguru's own parts as well bcus this really fleshes out the dynamics in the trio. also, the tsr collection will dive into more of this in terms of character analysis for the sake of the au - but i won't kill y'all with too much angst. yet. IM KIDDING CHILL!!

other : jjk szn two spoilers! mentions of toji incident, mentions of hickeys, reader dissociates, rs label is undefined (they're literally dating without knowing it bye) yes im also having thoughts abt barbie goodbye. @kfmcykdy gets the privilege tag today <33

current casette : what was i made for? - barbie, the album.

The summer of ‘06, everything changed.

It started days after the incident with Riko.

You’d been sitting on Suguru’s bed, back leaned against the headboard as he smoked a cigarette, shirtless and flat on his back, head leaned over the edge of the bed.

More often than usual now, Suguru smokes.

Satoru makes fun with it all in good faith most times and takes a few drags from the stick himself before coughing out the smoke.

He’d say something along the lines of him and Suguru being the first to kick the bucket, leaving you behind — one from lung cancer the other from diabetes, cause truly, there’s nothing in this world living and breathing that could kill them.

Suguru would say, he isn’t afraid of death. And if he goes out, he wants it to be because you and Satoru smothered him in his sleep.

Everything’s changed, hasn’t it?

“It’s raining,” he murmurs, a puff of smoke leaving his mouth. Subconsciously, you lean forward a little to inhale it, chasing him. Always chasing.

Because if Suguru is smoke and Satoru is fire, what are you? If they’re the strongest, what are you? “Satoru forgot his umbrella.” You finish for him, like you’ve taken residence in his mind.

Suguru hates it. But his existence, it’s yours and Satoru’s isn’t it?

There’s a hickey adorning the base of Suguru’s throat, another trail of marks covering his collarbone. If you looked lower, you’d see more of you and Satoru embedded in his flesh. But even now, you can’t move your eyes below Suguru’s neck. So you look away entirely.

Too many times these past days have you looked straight at him, and have your mind transported back to the image of him bloody and bruised, caked in crimson from the edge of his shoulders, across the expanse of his chest down to the curved line of his pelvis.

It's funny how now the scar is shaped like a star.

That day, you’d just returned from a mission, a day later than your arrival was scheduled for. Your bag clattered out of your hand the moment you opened your dorm door. Drops of blood in dried trails led from the doorway to your bed, to the bathroom then back.

He came to you first, and you weren’t there.

“name.” Suguru whispers, and when you look over to him again, he’s sitting upright and looking at you. “Where’d you go just now?” He asks, and a chilly feeling blossoms on your skin. But it’s not from the rain breeze wafting through the window.

If I tell you, you’ll hold me.

And if you hold me, I’ll shatter in your arms.

“Just daydreaming.” You say and he looks at you, one brow raised slightly. Suguru leans to the side and flicks the cigarette butt through the open window.

He doesn’t ask. Maybe because he knows if Satoru asked him, he wouldn’t say it either.

Everything’s changed.

“Okay,” he says and Suguru, your beautiful Suguru — “name.” He calls to you again, except this time it comes out softer, more like a plea.

His body shifts atop the sheets, curling into a fetal position, the side of his cheek resting on the fat of your thigh. “Don’t go too far away from me next time,” he whispers, your fingers sifting through his dark hair.

Two days later, Satoru leaves for a mission in Shinjuku.

He wakes early, knocks on your dorm door twice, slides a note under the door with a thin packet of powdered candy taped to it.

You don’t get out of bed to pick it up. Satoru thinks you must be tired again. You look so tired these days.

When you finally wake up, it’s afternoon.

Suguru is home from his own mission, and he makes you a cup of tea, kisses your cheek and heads to his room.

Lately, the thing you and Suguru have most in common is that you sleep. All the time, sleep. You wonder if it’s for different reasons.

Then later, the clock in the corridor of the dormitory building strikes nine.

You hear Satoru’s shoes against the hardwood floors and you look over your shoulder from where you’re seated on the common room couch, some cheesy romcom playing on the tv.

“Yo.” Satoru smiles, white plastic bag rustling in his grasp when he pushes his sunglasses up to rest in his snowy hair. You smile back at him, and despite yourself, your gaze goes back to the tv, the soft lighting hiding the furrow of your brow.

Does he not notice?

No, it’s not that.

“Did you eat already?” He asks, setting the bag down on the coffee table in front of you. Rather than sitting beside you on the couch, he pushes the plastic bag to the side and rests his weight there on the coffee table, one leg crossed in an ‘L shape’ over the other.

His collar is high, even though it’s hot out.

Maybe, if you didn’t know him enough, all these things would sneak past your gaze.

Everyday, every new detail, every new scar whether physical or not, gnaws at you like a disease stirring your insides.

Satoru won’t say it, but he doesn’t like when anyone touches his neck anymore.

He used to love it, when Suguru would kiss his nape, when you move the soft strands aside to cut his hair. When the tip of Suguru’s nose tickles his adam’s apple, or when you lick a stripe at the bottom of his throat.

Limitless. Infinity. Invincible.

Until it isn't.

“Yeah, Shoko brought over takeout,” you say and the glow of his blue orbs don’t really feel like Satoru right now.

If this was a month ago, you’d laugh at yourself for thinking that. When is Satoru never Satoru?

But, has everything really changed?

You want to reach a hand out to him and unzip the top of his uniform, maybe then he could breathe a little easier. But why?

Why do your fingers tremble in your lap?

Something inside of you feels like your fingers will be met with a barrier. And if you try to touch him now, with a barrier between you two, it will kill you again.

More than the sight of his near lifeless body ever could.

“name?” He tilts his head to the side, and your eyes dart back to him, unaware that you even looked away in the first place.

There’s a sound of static from the tv just as your eyes meet his, and the two of you rise from your seats at the same time —

Who’s chasing who this time?

There's a scar there on his neck, you know it. He hasn't given you the chance to look at it for longer than a few seconds — Toji is burned into his flesh.

Or rather, a reminder of his weakness is.

Satoru opens his mouth to say something. But he isn’t as easily read as Suguru sometimes.

His emotions are clouded by more complex emotions. When Satoru feels, he feels everything.

He comes in a box with one hundred different user manuals in different languages that no one knows. Suguru was a translator, and you, a scribe, committing him to memory. But even then —

Why won’t you say what you feel, Satoru?

He clenches a fist by his side, like he's holding back, his gaze drops from yours and he walks over to the tv, knocking the top of it a few times to get it to stop glitching out. In between that he whispers, “I brought noodles — somen for Suguru and the cold soba you like…”

Satoru looks tired, he falters in his stride.

Strength, huh?

The air around you feels cold with the weight of his cursed energy, no matter how thin and how much he tries to regulate the flow, you can feel it.

You would know him blind.

How long have you been seeing everything in the world but us?

You’ve never wanted to cry more in your life.

“I’m sure Suguru could eat,” you whisper back, voice a little hoarse. Suguru is probably asleep, or pretending to, like he does sometimes, just so he doesn’t have to see Satoru after missions like this – where he’s trying so hard. So hard to do more, to be more.

And you don’t see it, but you have a feeling Satoru’s heart is breaking in two. Why?

Why are things so different no matter how hard we try?

“Yeah? I have a dvd of that movie we never got to watch somewhere under my bed—”

Maybe.

Everything’s changed.

But maybe, things need to change.

#★ DRIASWRLD #tsr ⭐️#jujutsu kaisen #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #satoru gojo #suguru geto #gojo x geto x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic

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rd0265667 · 7 months ago

Text

Minji x Reader: Mercy, The Fool's Errand

TW!: Warning, there is quite alot of Violence and a slight bit of Gore(but there will be a TW before hand) A/N: Trying a more action oriented fic with Spiderwoman Minji, maybe will spring into something more 👀 Permanent Taglist: @cwpiqwon @justme-idle

Dropping down silently, Spider Woman landed behind a thug who was struggling to light a cigarette. Before the thug could react, Spiderwoman snatched the cigarette away, punching the thug in the gut. As he yelped in pain, she lit the cigarette, tossing it into his mouth, before webbing his mouth shut

“Didn’t your mom ever tell you smoking kills? Lucky for you, I’m way more effective than lung cancer. And a sucker for irony too.” Seeing more thugs, Spiderwoman webbed this thug up, swinging him and throwing him at the incoming thug. Jumping at the nearest thug, Spiderwoman webbed his mouth shut and gave him a quick uppercut, sending him sprawling into a pile of crates. The commotion caught the attention of two nearby thugs, who turned around, guns drawn. Spiderwoman launched herself at them, twisting mid-air to avoid their shots. She landed between them, delivered a rapid-fire punch to the first thug's gut, then spun around and kicked the second thug in the chest.

“I don’t get it—do you guys buy bullets in bulk? Costco membership? And seriously, where’s your safety training? Is there even safety on this gun?” Spiderwoman asked, before smacking him across the face with the butt of the rifle

The other thug staggers up, reaching for a knife. Spiderwoman webs the knife to her hand, tossing it straight into his chest. “Knife to meet you! Ha, I’ve been dying to use that one. Okay, technically I’m not the one dying, you are, but yada yada, spare me the semantics”

Another thug tried to surprise her from behind, swinging a crowbar. Spiderwoman ducked, then flipped backward, landing on the thug’s shoulders. Wrapping her arms around the thug, she jumped up, smashing his head into the ground as his neck jerked with a sickening crunch

“Crowbars? That’s cute. Didn’t know I was fighting a gang of Home Depot employees. You guys got discounts on those, or…? Meh, I don’t think dead employees get discounts. Oh well.”

SpiderWoman noticed a group of thugs at the far end of the warehouse, raising their guns. She shot a web at a nearby crate and swung it into them, knocking them down like bowling pins.

“Strike! And the crowd goes wild! Well, not really. But hey, you should see my high score at the arcade.”

As Spider woman landed, a thug swung a chain at her. She caught the chain mid-swing, yanked the thug forward, and clotheslined him.

“You know, I read somewhere that chainmail is making a comeback. But you, my friend, are not pulling it off.”

A thug sneaks up behind her, swinging a bat. Spiderwoman’s spider-sense tingles, and she ducks just in time. She webs the thug’s feet to the floor and yanks the bat out of his hands, twirling it like a baton.

“Batter up! Or should I say, ‘batter down’? No? Wow, tough crowd. Maybe I should stick to knock-knock jokes.”

She swings the bat, cracking it against the thug’s head, sending him spinning. The thug drops, twitching. Spiderwoman exaggeratedly raises her hand, running around the spot like a baseball game “And the crowd goes wild! Okay, nobody’s awake…or alive, but still. I’m a hit!”

Another thug tried to charge him with a bat. Spiderwoman sidestepped, grabbed the bat, and broke it over her knee, using the broken pieces to jab the thug in the shoulders, before a last one right in the stomach.

“Another goddamn bat? Really? What is this, amateur night? I’m expecting Joker to pop out and tell me this was all a prank.”

The last thug was backing away, visibly trembling, his gun shaking in his hands. Spiderwoman took a step forward, then another, until she was right in the thug’s face.

“Relax, man, I’m not gonna kill all of you. You, I’ll probably just ruin your evening. And maybe your dental work.”

Before the thug could respond, Spiderwoman webbed his gun to the ceiling and delivered a quick jab to the thug's stomach,followed by a punch to the face, the impact causing a crack in the ground Seeing the last thug left in the warehouse, Spiderwoman swung over, landing on the boxes next to the thug “I surrender, Don’t kill me!” The thug shouted out, dropping her gun to the ground. “Alright, but only if I get to tell you a joke.” Spiderwoman quips, twirling around a karambit she had found. “Okay!” The thug responded excitedly, relieved to have a way out. “Knock knock.” Spiderwoman started “Who’s there?” “Death.” Spiderwoman deadpanned “Death whrrg.” The thug began, before Spiderwoman dropped down, swiping the karambit across the thug's neck as she dropped to the ground, holding her neck as blood spurted wildly from the wound. “God I love Rowan Atkinson.” Spiderwoman chuckled to herself

“You know, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got a hot date. And maybe some takeout. Do bad guys even eat? I mean, it’s like you’re always here, doing the crime thing. You must have terrible Yelp reviews.”

Spiderwoman started walking toward the exit, then paused, looking back over his shoulder.

“By the way, if you’re thinking of sending more guys after me, here’s a tip: maybe hire a better interior decorator. This warehouse looks like the set of every bad action movie ever. Seriously, a potted plant wouldn’t kill you.”

She shot a web, swinging up into the rafters and disappearing into the shadows, leaving behind a warehouse full of groaning thugs and shattered crates.

As she swung away into the night, she muttered to herself, “I should really charge for this. Hero work, witty banter, interior design tips… Talk about multi-tasking.”

Her swing back to the rooftop was an uneventful one, thankfully. You were gonna kill her if you were late again, and she didn’t want to deal with that today. With a final swing, Minji soared into the air, landing with a final forward roll, jogging into the small shed at the rooftop. As she rushed into the shed, she smirked, leaning on the doorframe. “Just in time.” Minji said with a chuckle. Your eyes narrowed, staring at Minji, before shaking your head with a small sigh. “You’re cutting it close Kim. And to think I made your favourite for tonight.” “Ice cream?” Minji’s smile spread wide across her face. “Yep, mint chocolate.” You teased, Minji’s face dropping in horror. “You might be the worst person I’ve ever met. And I’ve literally met every villain in this city.” Minji said in horror “I’m kidding, its that cheesecake flavour you told me you liked that once.” You rolled your eyes, seeing Minji’s eyes widen, sparkling with excitement. “So what’s the special occasion? You even broke out the ice cream maker Auntie bought in that one garage sale?” Minji asked as she dug into the ice cream as if it was about to disappear. “If I recall, that was the garage sale you were supposed to help out in, but disappeared. Ahma was so pissed at you.” You jabbed with a chuckle, Minji wincing as she remembered those piercing, disappointed eyes that seemed to eat at her soul. Ghost Rider could never. “Not answering the question honey.” Minji teased, once again digging back into the bowl of ice cream before her. “I wanted to talk to you about reinstating your no kill rule.” You sat next to Minji, putting her hand in yours. “Nope.” Minji quickly replied, continuing to dig into the ice cream as if you had not said a word Taken aback, you quickly snatched the bowl away from Ice Cream away from Minji. You were well aware that if she wanted to, you couldn’t have taken that bowl from her if your life depended on it, but at least this proved she was listening. Somewhat at least. “I’m serious.” You gripped Minji’s hand tighter, trying to look her in the eyes “Ralph Dibny. Caitlin Luz. Joseph Wiegand. Corey Steele. Rachel Ong. 5 Dead, 236 people injured.” Minji stared at you dead in the eye. Your grip softened, you knew those names, you knew those numbers. The casualty report from the Goblin’s last attack, “If I had put the Goblin down the first time she tried anything, they would still be here. Rachel…She would still be here.” Minji seethed in rage. “Kim Minjeong.” You rebutted. “What about her?” Minji asked, clearly irritated at this line of questioning. “You fought her at Silph Labs a month ago, when she tried to steal some tech prototype.” “And?” You walked over to the computer, all it took was some typing to pull up some articles. “Have you heard of this new hero in Moapa Valley? Winter Flare? That’s Kim Minjeong.” You brought up a new message tab of communication. “I’ve been in contact with Crimson Banshee, the vigilante at Moapa Valley. She figured out what Minjeong was using that prototype for.” You took a small brown file, handing it to Minji, who looked at the file in apprehension. “Open it.” You nudged, Minji sighing before opening the file. “Her name is Yu Jimin. She was suffering from a rare genetic disease, and it was fatal. That prototype was the only thing that could save Jimin, and it did. A few days ago, the prototype was found in the office, frozen in a block of ice, and now, Moapa has a new protector.” “Your point?” Minji asked, going back to the couch.

“Some of them deserve a second chance. Not all of them, of course. The Goblin, The Chuuker, the mass murderers, the monsters, put them in the ground. I have no moral argument about that. But some of them deserve at least a shot at redemption. Like Minjeong. Good people, forced by circumstance to do bad things. That doesn’t make them villains, they’re just desperate, lost. You’re a hero, Minji, children look up to Spiderwoman everyday, but parents are afraid, Minji. They don’t want their kids to think murder is the first answer to everything. Just killing them may seem like it’s the right way out, but it’s just the easy way out. Some of these people deserve a second chance, a shot at redemption, but if they choose to turn bad again, you’ll be there to stop them again, my amazing spiderwoman.” You placed your hand on her cheek, attempting to reassure her. “But what if they change, attack again, and I can’t stop them? The lives that they’ll take, they’re on me.” Minji’s tone lowered, hands trembling as fear overcame her. “I know it’s difficult, baby, but killing isn’t the answer. It’s chipping away at your soul. Please. Think about it?” You pleaded, to which Minji nodded. “Now, I believe I promised you movie night. So what movie shall it be?” You asked, cuddling into Minji on the couch, remote in your hand as you turned on the TV. “Well, I’d say Lilo and Stitch, but I’m not paying fucking 13 bucks a month Disney.” Minji said, turning to look into what was seemingly thin air. “Who are you talking to this time?” You asked amusedly, not new to Minji’s antics “Let’s just watch the Titanic for the 20th thousand time.” Minji said, causing you to giggle. “It’s a good movie, and I expect a little more leeway with movie selection after I spent the whole day after class churning your goddamn cheesecake ice cream.” You playfully rolled your eyes, causing Minji to roll her eyes in mocking response, before pulling you in for a cuddle. “Jack would have fit on that goddamn door by the way.”

Spiderwoman clings to a steel beam high above the construction site, her eyes scanning the ground below. She had heard chatters of a new self proclaimed Genius Villain in town. Smartest in the world. “How many Smartest people in the world are there? It’s like how many first Baptist churches I see around this city. Like, one of them got to actually be first right?” Spiderwoman grabbed the screen, pulling it toward her mouth like a mic to talk to the people on the other side. “Okay okay, this is what you readers came here for. It’s showtime, grab your popcorn, turn off that music you’re playing in the background. Shits about to get real.” Spiderwoman lets go off the screen, pushing it back into the air, before cracking her knuckles

“Alright, Scipio,” Spiderwoman calls out, her voice echoing through the empty site. “Time to settle the score. And before you ask, no, I don’t have a coupon for this ass-kicking, so you’re gonna have to take it full price.”

A shadow moves in the darkness below, and Scipio steps into the light. He’s dressed in tactical gear, his posture calm and ready. A rope dart, its metal tip glinting ominously, coils in his hand.

“Nice rope dart! I guess you’re planning to make me your personal piñata. Hope you brought enough candy for the both of us!” Spiderwoman quips, assessing the threat before her

“You’ve been busy, Spiderwoman,” Scipio says, his voice smooth. “But tonight, I’m going to show you that brains can beat brawn.”

Spiderwoman drops from the beam, flipping gracefully in mid-air before landing softly on the ground. She bounces lightly on the balls of her feet, adopting a fighting stance “Brains, huh? Let’s see how smart you feel when you’re wrapped up like a mummy in webs.”

Without warning, Scipio whips the rope dart toward her, the tip slicing through the air with a deadly hiss. Spiderwoman reacts instantly, firing a webline to a nearby beam and yanking herself out of its path. She swings in a wide arc, twisting her body to deliver a flying kick to Scipio’s head. He ducks just in time, but she’s already flipping over him, landing lightly on the other side.

“Cheap Shot Buster! But you’re gonna have to be quicker than that!” she taunts, shooting another webline to a distant crane and pulling herself upward. She swings from the web, her body swaying slightly as she observes him from above. “And try not to get dizzy from all this swinging around. I know it can be a lot to handle. I’ve got a good pharmacy guy if you need him.”

Scipio doesn’t waste any time. He snaps the rope dart back, the metal tip whipping around his body as he takes aim. Spiderwoman swings toward him, her body twisting mid-air as she dodges the dart again, using a webline to redirect herself upward. She lands on a high beam, crouched and ready.

“Nice toy you got there,” she quips, firing a web to a nearby scaffold and using it to slingshot herself downward. “But mine’s better.” She somersaults through the air, aiming to land a kick on Scipio’s chest. But he’s prepared—he spins the rope dart around him, creating a whirling barrier that she narrowly avoids.

“Looks like you’re dancing with danger!” she shouts, using her webs to dodge and weave through the air. “I hope you’ve been taking dance lessons.”

Scipio growls in frustration and charges, his rope dart whipping through the air with deadly precision. Spiderwoman spins away, flipping into the air and firing webs to keep him off balance. She catches the dart mid-air and spins it around her hand, using it as a makeshift weapon to parry his next attack.

“Whoa, you’re really sticking to your guns—literally!” she jokes, a barrel role to narrowly dodge the rope dart. “But I’m afraid your aim is a little off. Better luck next time!”

Scipio narrows his eyes, clearly annoyed. He lunges at her with a series of rapid, precise strikes, but she dodges and counters, her movements a blur of agility and acrobatics. With a flourish, Scipio sends the rope dart with astonishing speed, though Spiderwoman was able to narrowly dodge, allowing the rope dart to twirl around her, sending it back at Scipio, causing him to duck, knocking him off his balance

“You’re like a cat in a laser pointer shop,” Spiderwoman quips, spinning around to land a kick to his ribs. “Always swatting at things you can’t quite catch!”

Scipio stumbles, but he catches himself, spinning around to deliver a backhand that Spiderwoman barely dodges. She retaliates with a series of punches, but Scipio blocks most of them, using her momentum against her to throw her off balance, one gap in her attack all he needed to knock her back.

Spiderwoman lands lightly on her feet, her breath coming in quick bursts. This guy is good—really good. But she’s not done yet. Not by a long shot. “Oh you’re good. As the shitheads on Mobile Legends say, Music.” Spiderwoman says, quickly followed by two quick claps, before lunging back at Scipio

She fires a web at a steel beam, yanking herself into the air. Scipio follows, leaping after her with lightning quick agility. But Spiderwoman has the advantage here—she swings from beam to beam, her experience of fighting mid swing proving advantageous as she dodged, bobbed, and parried everything Scipio tried to throw at her

“Catch me if you can!” she shouts, twisting mid-air to avoid a punch and landing a spinning kick to his head. “Or, you know, keep missing and I’ll just keep making jokes. Your call!”

Scipio reels from the kick, but he recovers quickly, grabbing her leg and pulling her down to the ground with him. They hit the concrete hard, but Spiderwoman uses the momentum to roll away, springing back to her feet. She fires a web to a nearby crane and pulls herself up, swinging in a wide arc before dropping down on Scipio from above. He raises his arms to block, but she’s too fast—she lands a solid punch to his jaw, followed by a kick to his chest that sends him crashing into a pile of rubble.

Scipio groans, struggling to get back to his feet. But Spiderwoman is already moving, her webs snapping out to wrap around his arms and legs. She yanks him off the ground, swinging him in a wide arc before slamming him into a steel beam. The impact reverberates through the site, and Scipio collapses to the ground, dazed.

Spiderwoman lands lightly beside him, breathing hard. Her fists clench and unclench as she stares down at him, her mind racing. She could end it all right now—just one more hit, and he’d be done for. “Go ahead. I’ve heard all about this before. Spiderwoman, the penumbra of this city. End me.” Scipio said, out of breath “Shut up.” Spiderwoman sighs. You were right. There was a better way to do this. With a shake of the head, Spiderwoman turns to walk away. “You’re letting me go?” Scipio questioned

Spiderwoman gazes down at him, her expression unreadable. “Because someone believes there is a better way to do things,” she says quietly. “And I’m starting to believe it too.”

She webs him to the ground, ensuring he won’t be going anywhere until the authorities arrive. “Don’t feel so smart now, do you, genius?” As she prepares to swing away, she looks back at him one last time, her voice hardening.

“Consider yourself lucky,” she says, her tone cold. “This is your one chance, repent, use that big brain for the good of society. But this is a warning, if I ever see you again, I won’t be making any more promises. And next time, bring more than just a rope dart.”

In the wreckage of the construction site, Scipio laid there, groaning in pain, though a small smile on his face. The fight might have been lost, but the war had just begun. It was not a war he anticipated being alive to see, but he wasn’t complaining. As the dot blinked on the screen on his wrist, Scipio smirked. Revenge would be swift, precise, fiery.

Exhausted, Minji walked into the shed. “How’d it go?” You asked, tossing her her usual isotonic drink. “I did it. New Guy in town, Scipio. I think he just wanted to test his skill against mine. He’s smart, and he’s good. Really good. Hopefully he uses the second chance wisely.” Minji said, leaning into the back hug you had thrown her into. “I’m proud of you.” You said, ruffling her hair as Minji smiled. “Alright, I’m going down to the chemistry labs to make some more web fluid.” Minji said, yawning as she tossed her suit to a corner, dressing down into a more comfortable jumpsuit. “Alright, I’ll do some research on Scipio while you’re gone, then maybe we'll go for supper?” You asked “You read my mind bro.” Minji chuckled, walking to you at your chair, leaving a small kiss on your forehead, before heading down the building to the chemistry lab.

Minji hummed a soft tune as she mixed the chemicals she needed. It was a slow process, but after so much time spent crime fighting, this time spent had become more or less a routine for her. She leaned back on her stool, allowing her mind to drift as she swirled the beaker in her hand. As she swirled it, however, she suddenly had a heavy feeling in her chest, the same feeling when her spidey senses go into overdrive. “Damn, I’ve been working too hard, maybe some chimichangas later.” Minji joked to herself, but as she swirled the beaker, she could not shake the horrible feeling. Now slightly wary, Minji got up from her seat, looking around the lab. “Alright, Monster in the closet, the Sonic CGI before we told Paramount they could go fuck themselves. Come out, come out wherever you are.” Minji called out, only to be met with silence, before hearing a deafening scream. Minji’s face paled. She bolted out of the lab, going as fast as her legs could take her, running up the stairs, only to recoil in horror as she saw the shed in flames. “Y/N!” She screamed out, hoping to find you amidst the rubble. Jumping into the shed, looking around, frantically looking for you. Seeing your hand sticking out amidst the dust, she jumped in, picking you up in a fireman’s carry, before running out from the shed. “Hey, babe, it’s okay, you’re safe now.” Minji whispers to you, holding you tight against her chest. “Babe?” Minji whispered, realising that you were unreactive. She placed a finger to your neck, her trembling hands realising you didn’t have a pulse. “No, No, No, Not again, this can’t be happening again.” Minji muttered under her breath Minji quickly tried CPR, her chest compressions growing more frantic as you remained unresponsive. Minji collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily as she fell back in horror. Looking to her hand, she quickly vibrated her hand, seeing small blue sparks of electricity forming on her hand. A power that she had found not too long ago, and your last hope. With trembling hands, Minji placed her hand on your chest, causing your body to jolt up in the air, but you remained unconscious. The sounds of sirens quickly flooded the area, the alarm clearly having been tripped by the fire. As the medics rushed the area, Minji let the paramedics around your body. After some checks, Minji saw the medic look to her watch, confirming her worst fear. As Minji fell back to the ground, stunned as the paramedics wheeled you away, she noticed something in the corner. Her suit. She slowly walked over to it, noticing a small blinking red light you had not noticed before, accompanied by a note. “With regards from the New Rogues, and Scipio ~Inferno.” Minji’s fist tightened, sparks flying out from her fist.

“Where are they! You have 10 seconds to tell me, before I gouge your eyeballs out.” Minji screamed, punching the thug she had found, webbing him upside down. “I don’-” Before the thug could finish his sentence, Minji punched him in the face, his head thrashing through the cinder wall behind him, jaw agape. “You next. Tell me something I want to hear or your jaw won’t even stay on like that guy’s.” Minji threatened. “Okay, okay, I heard some chatter of some gathering in a warehouse downtown. Let me go, please, I don’t want any trouble.” He screamed out. Minji nodded, turning around. “Hey, mind letting us down genius?” The thug screamed out, before Minji webbed his mouth, before giving it a rough yank, Minji swinging away from the source of the screams, his jaw hanging over his nose.

Minji’s eyes darkened as she perched atop the warehouses. Seeing light from the warehouse next to this one, she swung over, seeing Scipio, beside him being 3 other costumed figures, one with his hands over Scipio, seemingly healing him from the injuries he had suffered prior. Minji jumped down from the warehouse, landing on her toes, walking slowly into the warehouse. The other 3 villains were shocked, crouching into fighting stances as they kept their eyes on Minji. Scipio, however, chuckled as he watched Minji walking in. “Like the gift, Spiderwoman? As you can see, I’ve brought a lot more than a rope dart this time. I present to you, my new rogues. That there is Specter, this here is Gaze, and my friend over there is Inferno, the one responsible for sending you your gift.” Scipio said, winding his rope dart around his arm. “What, cat got your tongue? No more quips anymore genius?” Scipio questioned, smirking, believing he had broken Minji’s spirit. He had broken something, though he was gonna wish he hadn’t “Answer the boss when he’s talking to you!” Specter shouted, deciding to bum rush Minji. In one fluid move, Minji webbed Specter in the forehead, harshly yanking it, causing him to hit the ground hard on his face. Minji walked up to Specter, palming his head and lifting him up by his head, staring dead at the 3 other villains.

TW! Slightly Gory

Without a word, Minji’s hands began to shoot off sparks, Specter’s body shaking in Minji’s hand, the current running through his head, his eyeballs popping from his head, hanging from his eyes like a pinata at a halloween party, and his body began to smell like burnt charcoal. “What the fuck!” Scipio shouted out in shock. Tossing the body to a side, Minji shot her webs upward, pulling down the only light source in the room, causing it to crash down around the 3 villains left, as they all jumped out of the way. Minji’s eyes burned with rage, the darkness her ally as she lunged into action

“Reaper to Wildcat, I’m at the warehouse, checking out the disturbance. I’ll report back in a short while.” The figure shrouded in a black cloak, a sickle in hand said into their comlink “Roger that Reaper. Be careful, we don’t know what happened in there.” Wildcat’s voice rang through the comms, though it was quickly snuffed out by a scream from inside the warehouse. The Reaper bolted in, seeing copious amounts of blood stains on the ground, the charred body of Specter laying on the ground, eyeballs all but disconnected, skin charred, his two legs seemingly having been torn off. “What in the world?” The reaper muttered under their breath, walking cautiously into the next room, only to stop in shock. The Reaper had seen alot in their crime fighting escapades, many many atrocities, but none came even close to this sight. “What have you done!” The reaper screamed out. In the middle of the room, crouched Minji, standing upon a web the shade of dark crimson red. But this web was not spun of silk, instead, the web was formed by a grotesque collaboration of limbs, ligaments, muscles, a crimson red web of anger and gore

“I did what I had to.” Minji coldly replied, standing up and jumping in front of the Reaper. “Where are the villains?” The reaper demanded to know. “Some here, some there, some on the ceiling. But alive. For now at least. I’ll finish up in a moment. I need the web to be complete, to send a message to the wannabe villains of the world.” Minji nonchalantly said, gesturing to the corner. In the corner laid 3 bodies of the villains, all in different states of being. Missing limbs, faces burned, clawed off, jaw ripped clean off. They all laid, screaming in agony.

(We good from here on) “You can’t do this!” The Reaper shouted out in horror. “Why not? These villains don’t understand logic. So I speak the only language they speak, violence, splayed out so undeniably in their face that they’d fucking shoot themselves in the stomach before daring to step out of their houses in their shitty spandex or their half cooked schemes. “And what if villains take notice and want to kill you to make a name for themselves?” The reaper demanded to know “Then I expand my web.” Minji said

“I thought you changed recently. I heard of your fight with Scipio. You went back to how it was before the Goblin killed Rachel. But that’s gone again? I had faith in you, convinced wildcat to give you time, that in time, you’d show mercy.” The reaper said, before Minji let out a shrill chuckle “Mercy? Mercy cost me Rachel. Mercy cost me my aunt and Uncle. Mercy cost me my friends, my family. Mercy’s an easy thing to preach, when everyone you love is a goddamn superhero, Reaper. Mercy sounds good, until it bites the hand that feeds like the ungrateful dog it is, the mercy extended to these subhuman animals. Mercy cost me….it cost me Y/N. They were my second chance, my happiness after so much time of anger and hatred, and Mercy took them away from me. Hah, Mercy, the fool's errand”

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