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literalgrill · 1 year ago

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I wanted to write about the best anime from 2023 so I did just that! You can support independent blogging by checking it out on my blog, or just click keep reading below and check out my thoughts here. Idk, I'm not your mom, do what you want! But hey, maybe share some cool shows I might have missed too? I love watching good stuff!

Over 300 anime shows and films were released in 2023, no seriously, I went and counted by hand and a bit after 300 is where I gave up! The amount of shows we get each season, let alone in an entire year, has been massively increasing as of late. While I obviously couldn't watch literally everything, it still made it incredibly difficult to narrow things down to a top 10. But you didn't come here to read an intro, let's get into the meat of things! I'll be covering everything from the Winter 2023 season through Fall 2023. Reader beware, minor spoilers ahead! Let's get to it ✦

Honorable Mentions:

Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury Season 2

It felt weird to include just the second part of the show when you need the first season to get the most out of it. While the first also technically ended in 2023 and I could joke about being the best kind of correct, I left this one off the list so other incredible choices could be included. But seriously, go watch one of the best Gundam series of all time!

Kaguya-sama: Love is War: -The First Kiss That Never Ends-

This one also technically could have made it as the episodic version was released during the Spring 2023 season. However, I was fortunate enough to watch it with my partner in a theater, so my experience with it was slightly different. And that movie officially came out in 2022. I would have included this one because of how my partner openly bawled right alongside me as we watched it despite having essentially no previous knowledge of the series. The movie dives deep into traumas surrounding loving oneself and the fears of opening up in intimate relationships in a way that is so powerful and relatable that I had to at least mention it here.

10. I'm in Love with the Villainess

It's easy to pack lists like this with nothing but "high art." It takes more guts to just openly say this slapstick lesbian romance is one of the best shows I saw this year! The show is all about Rae's adventures in her favorite otome game where she wants nothing to do with the princes and everything to do with Claire François. I'm not usually huge on isekai shows these days but common tropes of the genre aren't as in your face here. While her knowledge of the game comes in handy, it is rarely used as a deus ex machina to escape every difficult situation. This series produced so many reaction image worthy stills while still managing to pull quite hard on the heartstrings, especially at the end. I can only hope its second season is announced soon.

9. Sacrificial Princess and the King of Beasts

These days, shojo series are sadly adapted far less often than their shonen counterparts and are rarely even given full adaptations of their material at all. Hearing Sacrificial Princess and the King of Beasts would not only be fully adapted but also have its entire story aired without a break between cours made it instantly stand out as something to keep an eye on. Add hunky and cute furries to the mix and how could I say no?

All kidding aside, the show has over-the-top cheesy romance moments distilled down to such a science that they seriously brought me to tears. It's unfair that shojo anime are stereotyped as being only about romances but it's hard to deny that no stories do romance quite like shojo stories. The machinations of the nobility add political intrigue that kept me hooked throughout as well. Hell, there were even some pretty good fight scenes!

I can't deny the iffy age issues between Sariphi and King Leonhart are a bit ehhhhh and why it's a bit lower on my list, even if these elements are not even remotely focused on in the series at all unlike some more problematic releases in 2023 (I'm looking at you A Girl & Her Guard Dog). But if that's not a dealbreaker for you, I'd recommend giving this underseen gem of 2023 a shot.

8. Ōoku: The Inner Chambers

I admit, I almost missed this one purely by being busy. Its first episode being over an hour long alone was a lot to plan around, so I didn't catch it when it came out in spring. However, Colleen's Manga Recs made an entire video about why people should watch it, so I kept it in the back of my mind until I was free to check it out recently.

I'm so glad that I did! There are far too many half-baked stories released as of late exploring how society might change if a majority or all of the male population were to suddenly die from disease. This one is all the way baked and paints the picture of a fascinating world where gender roles are turned upside down and royalty struggles to maintain succession in a world where men have been traditionally expected to rule. I don't want to spoil much here, it's worth seeing the story yourself. If the first episode gets a tight grip on your mind, you'll enjoy the rest of the series for sure.

Just be warned: The series does discuss and depict sexual assault. Be sure if you're going to check this one out that you're prepared for this and a lot of other heavy subject matter.

7. Yuri Is My Job

Especially for those who have avidly enjoyed lesbian romance stories from Japan, Yuri Is My Job is among the best yuri anime released in years. This is because it not only features a yuri romance, but breaks down historic tropes of the genre itself from the days of early Class S literature. This meta commentary alongside sweet complex romantic relationships came together to become more than just a show where a girl is wrangled into working for an oddly themed private school cafe!

If you're interested in these deeper parts of the show, Anime Feminist released a fantastic retrospective on the anime you'll want to check out. If you haven't seen this one yet and love everything yuri, do yourself a favor and get this on your screen already!

6. Buddy Daddies

It feels like the release of SPY x FAMILY kinda drowned this show out as too many people tried to say it was just a copy trying to ride off the coattails of a major success. This couldn't be less of a case! Just because people in high risk jobs suddenly adopt a daughter doesn't mean their stories will be the same.

Buddy Daddies has some comedic hijinks but is far more focused on what is essentially a queer relationship between two men as they become the best people they can be while taking care of a girl suddenly thrust into their care. How do you get a kid signed up for school, get all her supplies, and help her with the issues a young girl faces all while being top tier assassins? Oh, and did I mention that it's an original anime and not an adaptation to boot? Come for the badass action scenes and stay for the deep emotional core of the show.

5. Zom 100: Bucket List of the Dead

It should be obvious I deeply enjoyed Zom 100, hell I made an entire video essay about it! I have few other praises to speak about the show that weren't included there already. I'll just say that the last three episodes of the show absolutely delivered a compelling finale. Check this out for something outside the tropey zombie norm!

4. Overtake!

MF Ghost seemed like it had all the power of Initial D behind it as proof it would be the racing anime of the year, let alone Fall 2023. Overtake! simply made that impossible. It may not be as flashy, but the extremly grounded story of a son trying to follow in the footsteps of his F4 racing father and a man trying to recover from his trauma surrounding taking photographs of people is just so raw and real. The show is character driven to perfection and it's impossible to not care about the hopes and dreams feveryone involved by the time it concludes. The racing is also way more focused in reality than most other shows, which may be a turn off for those who want off-the-walls action, but is a marvel for those who intimately know the actual sport. Another anime original that absolutely swept me off my feet.

3. Helck

If Helck doesn't get a second season I swear I'll start a riot. The show starts off so goofy with this overpowered RPG world hero absolutely demolishing the competition to become the new demon king and quickly becomes a series about maintaining hope and fighting for freedom while within extreme emotional turmoil. There are so many themes in this show that are relevant in current times, especially the bit where the human government paints an entire race of people as being evil despite that not being the case... Hint hint...

I looked more forward to seeing this show than anything else in each week in the Summer 2023 season and can't recommend it more!

2. The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady

This show possibly made me cry harder than anything else released in 2023 which is a driving force behind why it's so high up on my list. It is by far the best isekai of 2023 as well, especially because of how subtly the main character Anisphia Wynn Palettia being reincarnated affects the plot to begin with. There are so many ways this show pulls at the heartstrings from Euphyllia trying to figure out what she wants in her life after knowing little but being raised to marry a prince to the complex darkness held in the heart of Anisphia's brother, there's just so much to dig into here.

It's not too often we get to see a full blown lesbian wedding at the end of a series either. There's no plausible deniability here, no leaving things up to interpretation, this show has lesbians in love! Period! I want to make sure all the emotional beats have their chance to hit so I won't risk spoiling anything more. Just please, pretty please, watch The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady.

1. Pluto

If I could only get people to watch one anime series this year, it would have to be Pluto. The questions it raises on AI and humanity couldn't have come at a better time, and it challenges the viewer to decide what they think instead of simply giving an answer they want you to believe. It directly calls out the kind of garbage America pulled during its "War on Terror" in a time when the country is currently destabilizing the middle east once again. As America actively and publicly funds a genocide despite the wishes of the majority of its citizens. It shows what happens when hate is a driving force behind decisions and how that can and will come back to haunt us all.

All of this is wrapped up in an incredible murder mystery that could have been enough to carry the show all by itself! This brainchild of Naoki Urasawa and Osamu Tezuka himself should be watched by anyone who considers themselves a fan of anime. Hell, show this one to any fan of sci-fi that is prepared for a psychological drama that will knock their socks off.

#anime #best of 2023 #yuri #yuri is my job!#pluto anime #helck anime #overtake #buddy daddies #i'm in love with the villainess

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portablecity · 2 years ago

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recent watches and listens and reads

Movies: The Pale Blue Eye - not bad, but by halfway through i had a strong “i bet the book is real good” feeling despite not knowing at that point that there was a book. Extreme problem of Charming Young Men In Uniform who all looked identical.

Point Break - a cultural moment I am glad to have caught up on. Incredible steady escalation of the tone and stakes. Bodie was a terrifyingly accurate depiction of the self-absorbed new age older dudes that hung around art school student scenes. Has anyone adapted this movie into a Descended From the Queen hack yet?

Woman King - hey i waited way too long to watch this, i super recommend it, it did not pull any punches on the action, the script, the themes, the emotional arc, the everything. It turned out that watching the trailer had told me almost nothing about it. Still a bit stunned. And despite the uniforms every character was easy to id and learn about and love.

The Hexer - the polish tv movie adaptations of The Witcher from like 20 years ago. It’s on youtube for free. No budget but all the enthusiasm. Pretty sure Henry Cavill based his geralt on this one, down to quite a few of the gestures and poses.

Audiobooks:

I’m working my way through the discworld books for the nth time, this time via my library’s audiobook collection. I have unconditional love for the series, but if you are coming from outside and want a place to start, I think I’d recommend Going Postal as your intro.

Most recently I just finished The Monstrous Regiment, and it is everything i remember and more. Some authors move the goalposts, or the finish line; Pratchett keeps moving the punchline, building on the joke until it’s non longer a joke and instead a core theme with big beautiful emotional payoff. I cried A Normal Amount.

Favourite character moments so far:

Sybil: in The Fifth Elephant, climbing out the window.

Vimes: any of his conversations with Willikins in Snuff.

Willikins: every time he is on screen, as it were.

Carrot: honest to god the addition of age and experience has really changed how i see Carrot and frankly I find him pretty terrifying. By the end of Men at Arms he is Legit Scary, and the shit he pulls in The Fifth Elephant is not cool. The only Carrot I particularly like is the one you hear in his letters home.

The Wizards: everything in Unseen Academicals.

The Librarian: how could i choose, honestly

Moist: the shit he pulls at the end of Going Postal; it’s such a bastard move for a good cause, which is i think the core of his appeal.

Death: dancing with Miss Flitworth

Vetinari: every conversation with Moist. Especially the one with the signet ring.

Gaspode: never not a fav but especially love his cameo in The Truth.

Angua: again, i feel like i read her very differently now; I don’t know if I really get her anymore. Further rereading needed.

I have been on the holds list for the witches books for a While, and the library doesn’t even HAVE Lord & Ladies, but I will update as I get to them. I do appreciate every moment Magrat gets her own out of a scene. But how to pick a fav moment with any of the others?

The only books I haven’t reread MANY times before this reread are Unseen Academicals, and Raising Steam; relistening to Unseen Academicals was a delight and left me very sad Pratchett didn’t get to continue those thoughts and themes further. Maybe the sweetest romances in the whole series. And somehow I just didn’t register Pepe and Madame on my first readthrough? Anyways I’m excited for Raising Steam, but not sure where to find an audobook version at this time.

Listening:

I discovered accordion players performing music like Vivaldi sonatas and Bach fugues and that certainly lives rent free in my brain now:

youtube

Otherwise I think I’ve listened to Devin Townsend’s Terria album at least twice a week sonce november. It’s harder to track down nowadays but remains a favourite.

Also we watched Andor slowly and carefully and I am still extremely immersed; can’t believe they got me back into the s’wars after boba and kenobi, honestly, but i am real glad I watched it.

Also, I read Ducks by Kate Beaton in a single sitting. Recommended.

#music #books #movies #heavy metal #discworld #reread #accordion #good times #recommendations #Youtube

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simons-temple-of-eros · 3 years ago

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unfinished ford x gender neutral!reader drabble

so uh, found this laying around in a notepad and figured i’d drop it here for u all. might finish this if i feel like it. it’s a little bit risqué towards the end but no actual smut or anything.

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Sitting at the desk with pen in hand, you could feel a gentle breeze, the cool air of autumn sweeping in. And any other day it'd be a sign to go out and enjoy the weather, but your mind was only on one thing. It chased it, your thoughts running rampant in a game of cat mouse, and despite this you couldn't seem to get your feelings out onto the notepaper in front of you.

You let out a groan of frustration as you scribbled out the jumbled up thoughts before tearing the paper out entirely to join the rest of the rejected letters on the ground.

It should have been easy enough to tell him the truth. To tell him about the way your heart flutters in your chest when he looked at you. The way his laugh made you feel like you were hearing the songs of angels. The way his touch, few and far in between it was, left a desperate warmth in its wake and made you wish the contact could last forever.

And yet no matter how you tried, no words seemed to be able to capture your feelings for him. Everything either seemed too schmaltzy and dramatic or too detached instead.

You know Ford's had some bad experiences in the past with intimacy, and you're afraid that any sort of misstep could make him want nothing to do with you.

And now that he's gone out on a quick anomaly search alone, you find yourself taking the opportunity to try and mentally rehearse your confession on some paper.

But after what feels like hours drag by, you eventually find yourself having gained nothing but a headache and a pile of used paper.

It was then that you decide it wasn't worth it. As much as your heart was screaming at you to make your true feelings known, the thought of losing the close friendship you had with the local researcher was enough for you to push down any feelings of romance as far as it would go.

With the decision in your mind made, you remember you hadn't had anything to drink in who knows how long. Too deep in your frenzied, passion-fueled writing to focus on your body's needs. It's not until you take the first sip of a glass of water you go in the kitchen to get that you realize just how much you needed it.

So busy you are as you hydrate yourself that you only take absent-minded notice when you hear the door open. It takes until roughly a few seconds after you put down the now empty glass to realize an important detail you missed.

Stanford had just gotten back. And he was probably going to be in the office. Where you had left all your failed attempts at love confessions.

Pure panic fuels you as you practically fly the length between the kitchen and the office, but when you get there it's too late as you're met with the sight of the silver haired scientist reading one of the crumpled papers with an unreadable expression on his face. As he turns to look at you, you can feel your cheeks warm up in embarrassment as your heart pounds in your ears like a drum.

"Did you write this...?"

You want to try to explain. Deny it, make excuses, but it feels like your throat's closed up, the words you desperately need trapped in your lungs. Maybe that's why it's so hard to breathe?

Ford looks like he's about to say something, but your body acts first, and before you even realized it yourself you're running. Running away from what you could only assume would be disgust, shame, rejection. You hear Ford call your name but you don't stop running. Not when you run out the door, not when you run past the edge of the forest. It's only once you're sure you're alone that you finally halt, exhaustion from your sudden sprint making you lean against a nearby tree, lungs heaving.

Deep inside, you know your reaction was probably not warranted. But you couldn't bring yourself to turn back now. How could you face him now? Now that he probably knew every mushy thought you had about him?

However, just as you were regaining your composure, you suddenly feel a familiar pair of six-fingered hands grab your wrists. In moments, you found yourself in the position of being pinned against the tree you had just been leaning on, looking up to see the same pair of brown-blue eyes you'd fallen for. Stanford Pines himself, holding you by your wrists and fixing you with a look of deep consideration, as if you were a particularly fascinating anomaly he'd just caught. You could practically feel your face turning several shades darker under his gaze.

"I apologize for startling you, but I can't have you running off again, now can I?" Despite him pinning you against the tree, his voice and grip were both gentle. As gentle as he'd always been with you.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't really meant to... I was just... afraid of what you might think of me now..." You admitted, unable to meet the scientist's gaze.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his expression harden, and you prepare yourself for the sting of rejection. You'd only hope he would be willing to let you stay and research anomalies with him, but you'd understand if he didn't want you around after the things you'd wrote.

"When I had seen the letters you'd written, I at first assumed you might've been playing some sort of joke on me. But the more I read, I began to realize you truly meant all those things you wrote. And your reaction only confirmed my suspicions." He spoke slowly, as if thinking out loud. Something which he was wont to do, but now it only made the tension inside you build.

"Please look at me, dear. There's something I've been wanting to do since I laid my eyes on you."

#stanford pines x reader #ford x reader #gender neutral reader #my writing #science husband

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brattyfics · 4 years ago

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Like That

Pairing: Rio x Black!Reader

Summary: You and Rio get to know each other better. Loosely based on ‘Like That’ by Doja Cat.

Warnings: Smut.

Word Count: 3.5K

Installments: Say So | Like That | Talk Dirty

And baby, I want it, and I'll just be honest 'Cause I just can't front when I look at you

About six weeks have passed since Rio declared himself your man, and you quickly learned he took the title very seriously.

He was busier than usual with ‘flipping his game,’ and you were busy preparing to transition your shop, but you saw each other often despite time constraints. You agreed date nights at least once a week were a must, but when you couldn’t see each other, Rio made sure to end nights with a phone call. Virtually falling asleep next to him gave you butterflies, reminding you just how exciting new relationships could be. It took prodding, but he told you made-up bedtime stories and the boring details of his day. In return, you shared things about yourself— childhood memories, the crazy things your mom did to embarrass you. He was sweet and attentive, and you found it refreshing to be with someone who was just as infatuated with you.

On your second date, he took you to his favorite restaurant, a fancy sushi place with expensive rolls. He taught you to hold chopsticks the wrong way the way he did and even fed you across the small table, a couple of unfortunate rolls falling apart due to his prodding. You tried your best to hide your amusement at the pensive look on his face. For whatever reason, Rio thought of himself as a sushi connoisseur, but it was clear to you that he was still learning.

“You’re no better than me!” He admonished when he noticed the way you held your chopsticks. Like his technique, it was incorrect, but it worked for you— sort of. “I never said I was.” You couldn’t keep the amusement off your face any longer. “You’re the one who comes here weekly. I thought you were a professional, and we’re in the same boat.” He folded his arms on top of the table as he insisted you were wrong, but secretly he found your teasing endearing. Later that night, he called and gave you a cheesy line about loving to see you smile.

The following week, you had lunch at a mom-and-pop soul food restaurant that served the best cornbread and peach cobbler in the city. The owners, an adorable older couple, Donna and Gene, and servers alike stopped by your table to meet Rio. Donna gushed over Rio, showering him with compliments and extra cornbread. “Girl, he is cute!” She told you, failing miserably at whispering. He smirked as you rolled your eyes, but he handled the attention well, being friendly and personable even when Gene kept going on and on about changes to the menu, one chef to another.

A few days later, he called you up randomly and asked you to get ready and ride with him somewhere. “What should I wear?” You asked, hoping for a hint. You could hear him smile as he said, “It doesn’t even matter, ma. You always look good.” The occasion had turned out to be ‘Foodtruck Friday.’ Barbecue, kebab, taco, ice cream, and other miscellaneous food trucks were parked in a spacious lot in Downtown Detroit. You settled at a picnic table and shared several plates of food as you discussed the possibility of your own mobile ‘Mad Batter’ shop somewhere down the line. It got you thinking about the future.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” You asked the dreaded question in between bites of a colorful Korean fusion taco. He stiffened as he considered the answer. “What is this, a job interview?” Sometimes you saw peeks of bossman Rio rather than the Christopher Castillo you were getting to know. It happened seemingly out of nowhere when you asked questions he felt were invasive.

You looked up from the panko-fried shrimp, red cabbage, shredded carrots, and tasty orange sauce wrapped up in a flour tortilla with a frown. You had two choices: respond in the way he had or make light of the situation. So, you said, “Kinda. You’re auditioning for a spot on my roster, so...”

He stopped chewing the half-eaten dumpling and swallowed hard. “That’s not funny.”

“You better start taking the interviewing part of the audition more seriously then.” You wiped your fingers on a napkin, and he gathered your hand in his own, wearing a look you couldn’t decipher. “You got it, ma.”

You played a game of mini-golf at the local arcade. Rio stood tall behind you, holding you by your hips as he corrected your stance. You purposefully arched your back, brushing against him just slightly. “Like this?” You looked over your shoulder with the most innocent look you could muster, but his eyes were glued to your ass. “Yeah, just like that.” He answered in a low tone without looking up. You giggled as you took your swing, adding a wiggle for his benefit. You pretended to care about the ball as it glided across the bright green tarp towards the hole. “How was that?” You chirped, looking down the lane.

“I can’t even lie. I don’t care about the game right now. I just wanna watch you.” Your aim was terrible, and the ball never went in the hole without several attempts, but he insisted you finish playing the course. You teased him about it for days after despite his claim that he actually enjoyed the game because it was one of Marcus’ favorites.

“Stop lying! You just wanted an excuse to openly watch my ass.”

“Why you always gotta call me out?”

You shopped a cozy health and wellness store with hundreds of cool little trinkets for sale. Neither of you had been there before, so you took your time exploring, stealing unexpected kisses from the other. Rio took full advantage of the size of the store, pulling you by the hand and holding you close to his side.

He frowned at the large collection of shiny crystals. “A rock, really? What does anybody need with a rock?”

“It’s not a rock!” You hissed, head whipping around as you hoped the owner didn’t hear him.

“What is it then? It looks like a rock to me.” He picked one up, turning it over in his hands.

“It’s a crystal!”

“What’s the difference?”

“It has healing properties...” Rio snorted but strung his arm across your shoulder and listened intently as you read the info cards to him. When it was all said and done, he bought an aventurine stone to apologize to the owner for prosperity, well-being, and good luck.

The next day, he disappeared with no warning. You had been worried sick until Mick let you know he was busy handling something. It would have only taken a minute to tell you that, so you were (understandably) pissed. He showed up at the shop several days later like nothing had ever happened. “What’s up, mama?” The greeting that usually melted you grated on your nerves. All of your feelings about the situation bubbled up to the surface. It was hard to find the right words— you were still getting to know each other, so how mad could you be? At the same time, how little did he think of you to not say anything? Finally, you settled on, “I can’t do the disappearing act.”

Rio wasn’t used to answering to anyone, not even his child’s mother, about his whereabouts, but he put his palms up in surrender when he saw the serious expression you wore.

“You’re right, mama. That’s my bad. It won’t happen again.”

And it hadn’t.

But knowing ahead of time only made it a tiny bit easier, especially when he didn’t have a set return date. You were going on day seven (the longest you had gone without seeing him since you started dating) when he called to say he made it home and wanted to see you. Your heavy heart swelled with relief. You missed him way more than you probably should have, so you insisted on a night in at your place, wanting him to feel relaxed and at home instead of on guard somewhere public.

It had been a long six weeks without sex while he romanced you with delicious food and beautiful words. It wasn’t an easy task, but you knew as soon as sex was thrown in the mix, you would be done for, either destined to be his or ruined by him. It was a scary thought, but distance had indeed made the heart grow fonder, and you cared about him enough to take a chance.

He was set to arrive within the hour, but you were still unsure of what to wear, frantically rummaging through the dresser for something cute and comfortable. You let out a frustrated groan when your phone started to ring, thinking Rio might have come early, but when you look down at your phone, you see your best friend’s name and face. You swipe quickly, accepting the FaceTime call. “Hey, girl!”

“Hey, stranger!” You pick up the phone, so you can look at her. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” She replies with just as much sass. “I haven’t talked to you in what— two weeks?”

“We talk—“

“—text.”

“Okay, fine. Text. We text every day. What are you talking about?”

“That’s not the same.” She insists even as you remind her of the ridiculous amount of time you spend trading memes and food pictures with her.

“Anyway, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to decide what I’m going to wear between this, this, or this.” You move the camera around, showing her the different options. A black-and-white tank and short set with ‘Being cute is not a crime’ in a cute font. A fuzzy grey sweatsuit set with hearts, or a simple cream hoodie with matching shorts.

“Um, what’s the occasion?” You giggle at the look on her face, knowing she thinks none of the above are appropriate for wearing outside of the house.

“Movie night in.”

“You need help picking an outfit for movie night with yourself?” Her face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, is it movie night with yourself?” You try to be casual about it, shrugging your shoulders in response. As usual, she sees through your bullshit and goes straight into an interrogation. “Oh, bitch. You been holding out on me!” She asks you five questions in a row without stopping to breathe before settling on one. “Who?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. “...Rio.”

“Rio?” She frowns. “Like the guy we work for, Rio? With the eyebrows and the neck tattoo, Rio?”

“Yes, that Rio.”

“Wow.” You wince but decide it’s best to get it over with. “What? I know you, so I know there’s more where that came from.”

“I don’t know what to say! From what I can tell, he’s a decent dude, I guess, but you know what he does. You definitely know what we do for him! You don’t think that could be a problem?”

“It’s messy, for sure, and I can admit that, but I’ve been thinking about getting out anyway...” She nods. “Then, I guess there’s nothing else for me to say about that. You’re both grown, and you know what you’re doing.” She was your best friend, which meant she’d always give her honest opinion, but wouldn’t berate you about your choices. Just like that, you return to your regular discussion topics, everything from warehouse gossip (yes, even in the business of crime, there’s a rumor mill) to new music releases. Before you knew it, forty minutes had passed, and Rio was calling your phone. You promised to call her more often before hanging up.

You sing your ‘hello’ into the phone, hoping Rio can’t detect the shakiness in your voice as you clumsily pull on your bottoms.

“Hey, mama. You about ready? I know you’re sensitive about your space and all that.” He was referring to the fact that he had never been past the doorway of your home. Your home was your sacred place, so you were extra careful about who came in and what energy they brought. It was always nerve-wracking to let somebody into the space that you cherished so much.

“Yeah.” He picks up on the hesitancy in your voice. “Are you sure?” You nod your head as if he can see you before telling him yes with a giggle. “Alright, well, I’m outside. Can I come in?” You bite your lip, butterflies fluttering in your tummy. “Yeah, I’ll come unlock the door.” He whispers his thanks, and you take a moment to force yourself to relax. When you meet him at the door, you do so with an open mind and heart, taking in his appearance with a goofy grin on your face. As usual, he’s dressed in all black, wearing a well-fitted t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s casual but still so high quality and attractive.

“Hi.” You breathe out like a dork when you realize you’re staring. It helps that he seems just as mesmerized, stepping forward to envelop you in a tight, warm hug. He sways you from side to side before pulling back, his hands resting heavily on the top of your ass. He settles for a quick peck on the lips because he has something to say. “You’re as pretty as ever, darlin’.” He says earnestly, shaking his head as he steps back to look you over once more.

“Kiss me again.” His hands cup your ass as you devour each other in the open doorway. You forget your surroundings. “Damn, ma. Can I at least get inside before you jump my bones? I don’t mind giving your neighbors a show if that’s your thing, but…” You turn to hide your embarrassment, leaving him to close the door behind you as you gesture around the room as if you’re in an episode of MTV Cribs. “... here’s the living room. The kitchen’s through the arch. The bathroom’s over there...” He follows you with his red as you point.

“And the bedroom?”

You snort. “The tour stops here for now. Sit down.” Your tone leaves no room for argument. He settles into the soft couch while you grab the snack tray from the kitchen. Homemade popcorn, chocolate-covered pretzels, and dried fruit gummies are on the menu.

“All this for me?” His arms snake around your waist so that you can curl up into his side. “What we watching?” You grab the remote. “I saw a trailer this week that caught my attention. I’ll play it for you.” He didn’t care what you watched as long as he got to be close to you, so it didn’t take long for you to get the movie started. He stole glances at you when his knuckles brushed against your bare knees under the blanket. You’re embarrassed at how wet the small action makes you, so you stretch out across the couch and place your bare feet in his lap, silently planning your revenge. The movie may as well not be playing because you couldn’t be less interested in the plot as you lightly stroke him through his sweatpants with the balls of your feet.

“Ma...” He warns, watching you in the low lighting. He’s come to learn you like to tease, but he doesn’t think he can take it, not tonight. “Hmm?” You hum innocently, loving the strained look on your face. He doesn’t move even as you sit up on your haunches and kiss him. It’s slow and long in the best way. He pulls you to sit in his lap. His hands roam your body as you grind down onto him, relishing in the feeling of the soft skin on your tummy. He sighs into your mouth as one hand finds your bare breasts.

He pulls away to talk shit. “No bra? You just knew I was gonna put out, huh?” He pushes the cotton material up so he can see you properly. “Perfect.” He murmurs into your skin. You let him kiss and lick and suck on your nipples until the pressure you feel below is too much to handle. You’re a quivering mess when he finally helps you pull the cotton material up and over your head. It lands on top of the television behind you, but neither of you notice.

You nudge him until he removes his own shirt, and then he lifts his hips to help you when you begin tugging on his sweats. They puddle at his feet while you spread your legs wide, desperate to get your hands on him. “I could cry right now.” You admit honestly when you finally see him, biting your lip. He arches a brow. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing, darlin’?” His hips jerk when you take him into your hands, the cold temperature surprising him.

“It’s definitely a good thing.” You whisper excitedly, staring with wonder as he hardens in your hands. He barks out a laugh, stunned by your ability to make him laugh, even with his dick in your hands. “That’s really nice, ma. I feel real special.” Your eyes meet, and silent promises of all the filthy things you’re going to do to each other are exchanged. “You should. I’m about to change your life.” He throbs in your hands, loving that you find small ways to challenge him.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.” He wraps his arms around you in preparation to get up, but you stop him with a shake of your head. “I don’t wanna.”

“No? What you wanna do then?”

You answer him by slipping to your knees. You spit on his dick, stroking him up and down slowly. He watches you closely as you lower your mouth, wrapping your lips around the tip. It takes a lot of restraint, but he lets you do your thing, slowly working him deeper into your throat. He closes his eyes as he concentrates on lasting, but he can’t turn his ears off, the obscene smacks painting a vivid picture for him. When you swipe your tongue across his balls, he moves to stop you, grabbing your shoulders. Fire dances in your eyes as you realize you got him where you want him. “I don’t wanna.” You repeat.

“You are a brat.”

You release him with a pop. “The biggest.” You admit, swallowing him once more. He groans, thinking he can’t believe you’re the same sweet girl who bakes in a frilly pink apron and begs him to tell her bedtime stories.

“I want you to fuck me now.” He stops you before you can bend over the couch. “Slow down. I want you on your back, darlin.”

You throw his earlier words back at him. “That’s nice. I feel really special.”

“You should.” He mocks you, instructing you to hold your legs wide. He wastes no time licking and sucking you as enthusiastically as you had done him. “You’re so pretty. I could eat this pretty pussy forever.” He compliments as you squirm in his hold. “You’d let me, huh?” You shake your head frantically. “No! You’d drive..me crazy!” Payback is a mother, especially when Rio’s the one dishing it out. “Wait, wait—“You whimper, clawing at his shoulders.

“What?” He cajoles. He almost wants to laugh at the distressed look on your face. “I want you.” You pout, trying to sweet-talk him.

“You have me.”

“Not like this. Inside.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Mhm.” You swallow, watching as he fumbles around with his pants searching for a condom. He opens the golden foil packet with expert fingers, positioning himself in between your spread legs. “You don’t have any pointers for me now?” He drags his tip up and down your slit, slowly pushing his way further. Teasing. You shake your head. “No. Just fuck me.”

“That ain’t polite. You gotta say please, mama.” You scowled, but he didn’t budge. “Please.” You pleaded with the sweetest tone you could muster, sighing as he gave in. You cursed at the stretch, him at the way you squeezed him. “You feel…” He couldn’t find the words, so he buried his face in your neck, trying to gain some composure. You caressed the back of his neck sweetly. “You feel good too, baby.”

His hips stuttered forward, and you gasped as he worked himself deeper. You grasp his shoulders tightly, your nails embedding themselves into the soft skin.

“Yes!” You squeal.

“Like that?” He grits out, struggling to keep his rhythm.

“Yes, just like that!” You cry, moaning as he pounds up into you. His lips find yours again, and it’s bliss. Then before you can stop yourself, you’re calling him Daddy like it’s his given name. He groans into your sweaty neck like he’s in pain.

“You’re so nasty.” Overwhelmed and breathless, you whine your protest, “You’re nasty. Look at what you’re doing to me.” His eyes shift to where you’re connected. You’re creaming all over him and leaking down onto the couch, but you can’t bring yourself to care about anything other than coming. You do just that, mewling as you make an even bigger mess between your legs. He whispers filthy things into your ear as he finishes, grunting at the way you seem to be sucking him in even deeper.

“That was—“

“—unreal.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you can bring yourself to move. Your sweat-covered skin sticks together. You swipe your hand against your forehead while he pants.

“I wanted to ride you at least once tonight, but after that, I’ll be lucky to make it to bed.”

GENERAL TAGLIST

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903

RIO TAGLIST

@xsweetdellzx

#good girls rio #nbc good girls #manny montana #rio x reader #rio x black!reader

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madswonders · 4 years ago

Text

A Lesson In Romance #11: Actions

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: A little ✨spice✨ and a little ✨action✨

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, gun violence, mild (???) dirty talk

Word Count: 2.3k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they pretend to be married.

A/N: I would like to dedicate this chapter to the Classy Restaurant Music playlist on Spotify for capturing the fancy restaurant vibes I needed hahahah

Masterlist | All chapters here!

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"You know, this is not how I imagined coming back here." You said quietly. Next to you, Spencer smiled.

Your eyes were still adjusting to the warm light, a stark contrast to the blue winter evening outside. This was your second time here, technically, but the sensation of his hand on your waist and the cool metal on your left hand made it all feel brand new.

"Table for Mr. and Mrs. Reid." He said to the hostess, calmer than you'd ever seen him before. You didn't miss the way he tugged you closer when he said "Mrs." and despite the truth of the matter, giddy smiles tugged on both your lips.

But it was the hostess' reaction that gave it away for you. When she glanced at your intertwined hands and matching rings with a soft smile, you began to realise why the two of you were chosen for this in the first place. The effect you had on each other was hypnotising.

Sending you and Spencer undercover as newlyweds was probably the easiest decision Hotch has ever had to make. His reasoning came from basic human psychology; people are drawn to extreme events, and while this generally applied to accidents and tragedy, it also applied to marriage and child birth.

In this case, few things would stand out more in a crowded restaurant than a pair of shiny new wedding rings, a large bouquet of flowers, and a bottle of champagne for two. And to top it all off, he had the two of you. Everything else came secondary.

Still, it was strange. Being isolated from the operation only made you more in awe of your team. Even under the duress of three hours, they operated like clockwork; devising a comprehensive undercover mission, building a profile for an unsub they didn't even know, and training an entire restaurant's staff in a handful of hours.

By the time the final pieces fell into place, all that was left was for you and Spencer to carry out the final stage of the plan.

Maybe it was the pressure of having the entire team rest on your shoulders, or this new "character" you had to play, but something felt different tonight. It was like electricity crackled in the air; you felt it when his hand lingered on your back, low enough that you felt a growing warmth in your belly, making you yearn for his touch long after he let go.

Maybe it was the stress from going undercover for the first time that made you trail your gaze down his suited figure, muscled and lean as a side effect of this job. Maybe that's why the image of him standing at the foot of your bed in this very suit couldn't leave your mind, until the physical action of squirming in your seat jolted you out of your own imagination.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Spencer locked eyes with you, his hazel eyes dark under the dim restaurant lighting.

"Just thinking about you." You admitted, placing your hand across the table. He took your hand in his instantly, his thumb tentatively resting on the jewel on your ring finger.

"All good things, I hope?"

"Nothing but good things."

"Well, perhaps I can add to that. You look beautiful." He pressed a soft kiss to your hand, his eyes crinkling playfully when your cheeks turned pink in response.

"How do I know you're not just saying that for our audience?" You whispered, eyes darting to his tie where the mic was hidden.

"If it weren't for our audience, I'd be saying a lot more, love." He replied lowly, and you bit back a thought you didn't want any of your colleagues to hear. You could already imagine them cringing as they listened in on your conversation, and the image made you giggle.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Dr. Spencer Reid?" You accused jokingly.

"When love is not madness, it is not love." He answered simply.

You thought for a moment, before the reference clicked in your head. "Pedro Calderon de la Barca. Interesting choice. You weren't lying about your education in classic literature, doctor." You looked impressed.

"I'm hurt that you even doubted it." He mocked insult, and you grinned.

"No, I'm just surprised."

"Wait until you see my actual surprise." He smiled, gesturing behind you as a waiter appeared carrying two plates in your direction.

"I took the liberty of ordering our food in advance." He explained. When you looked at him in surprise, he simply shrugged. “I figured I should expand my theory beyond breakfast.”

"And here I thought tonight couldn't get anymore exciting." You said, marvelling at the appetisers as they were placed in front of you two.

“You can reserve your compliments for when I guess everything correct, and I will.” He mock bowed.

“You're on." You giggled. "Now, can we finally have some of this champagne?"

Dinner went by smoother than you thought it would, and thankfully for your team listening in, your conversations steered away from thinly veiled flirting to classic films as the food appeared.

Not that it was any easier for you talk about Billy Wilder and Francis Ford Coppola with what was happening in front of you. Spencer had taken to playing with the ring on your finger while you talked, and each time his long fingers brushed against yours, it sent chills down your spine.

But it was when his leg brushed against yours underneath the clothed table that you felt yourself lose grip of your facade. The first time it happened, you even thought it might be a mistake. But after the second and third time, it was clear that Spencer knew exactly what he was doing, even if the innocent expression on his face didn't betray anything.

If you didn't know him better, you would even think that he liked it, teasing you underneath the restaurant table on case, where you couldn't act on it. Instead, you pushed away the thought and allowed your skin to prick with every touch; all the while you sipped on your champagne, taking the chance to observe the patrons around you through the rim of your glass.

Unfortunately, your luck was a little worse in the unsub department, and your concern only continued to grow as your entrées made way for dessert.

Before you entered the restaurant, the team had discussed the best-case-scenario for tonight — identifying and apprehending the unsub quietly before the dinner shift was up. But if you ran out of time, there was always one back-up plan, something that would definitely force the unsub's hand.

The good thing about having two unsubs now was that victimology became incredibly simple to decipher. What you and Spencer had considered inconsistencies at first, were now clear patterns distinguishing each one.

The first one was impulsive but experienced, driven purely by a compulsion to complete his pattern as fast as possible. Despite that, he had the sense to stick to high-risk victims and secluded locations, which made him so hard to catch in the first place.

It was the second unsub that was interesting. He seemed more controlled and calculating, choosing low-risk victims and public locations. The team profiled him as the narcissistic component of the original profile. The more high profile the victims, the more they attracted him.

And now that you’d spent the entire night drawing attention to yourselves, all you had to do was present an easy opportunity for the unsub to pounce — right into the BAU’s trap.

The moment Spencer beckoned you to come closer, you knew something was up. "Listen carefully, love. I'm going to call for the bill, and we're going to go outside. If I'm right about my guess, the unsub is going to be right behind us. Do you understand me?" He whispered into your ear, low and calm.

You made an obvious move to cup his cheek as you leaned back. "Can we go home now, baby?" You cooed. Yeah, you got him.

As you walked out of the restaurant, you intentionally stumbled as you clung onto his arm, letting out a loud giggle. Your gaze fixed adoringly on your date, even as Emily and Hotch called for their bill on your left, Derek and Rossi no doubt already rounding to the front of the restaurant from the back exit.

"Trust me." Spencer murmured as he opened the door for you, and when you nodded, he pulled you into one final kiss for the public. What you didn't expect was for him to move his hand down and squeeze your ass, causing you to let out a loud squeak at the doorway.

If anybody was looking at the two of you before, they were certainly staring now, and the doctor confirmed this with a low whisper. "He's coming."

When he finally caged you against his car, you had to remember not to go overboard for your listening colleagues, but you couldn't help but let out a quiet moan into his mouth as he pushed his leg lightly against your core.

"Sp— Spencer—" You breathed, locking your fingers behind his neck.

"Just hold on a little bit more, love." He muttered, cupping your cheeks with his large hands and stroking your hair. "Just a bit mor—"

You heard the sound of a gun cocking next to you as you broke apart, lightly gasping. A middle-aged man stood in the shadows, waving his gun aggressively. Bingo.

"Get into the car."

The two of you raised your arms warily. "Who are you?" Spencer shouted, moving to shield you from the unsub.

"I said, get into the car!" He yelled. "Starting with you."

"Okay, okay." The doctor conceded, unlocking the car and slowly getting in the backseat. He left some room for you to get in next, but the unsub trained his gun on you.

"Not you, sweetheart. I'm going to finish you right here." He narrowed his eyes at you. "Drop your bag on the ground."

Everything seemed to fall silent as you slowly lowered your bag, and your hidden gun, to the ground. When you stood back up with your hands in the air, the unsub slammed you into the side of the car and you groaned at the sudden impact.

You didn't need to gather your senses to know that his gun was pointed right at you.

"Leave her alone, James." Spencer threatened, already out of the car and levelling his gun at the unsub. All around you, the team moved into the light.

"FBI! James Luther — put the gun down." Hotch ordered.

The unsub looked shocked for a moment as he looked around, finally realising the situation he was in. His expression was unusually calm, and it chilled you to the bone.

"Very, very interesting. Are you a fed too?" He sneered down at you.

"It's over, James. Either you put the gun down, or you don't walk out of here alive." Spencer warned, but the unsub only laughed.

"I should have known that it was too good to be true. It's not often I get such a perfect couple, much less one with a wife this pretty." He drawled, waving the gun in your face.

"Spencer. I'm okay." You ordered through gritted teeth, already knowing what the genius was about to do.

"Look at her, so brave. Are the two of you even married? Or is everything about this fake?"

"I won't say this a second time. Put the gun down." Spencer repeated, cocking his gun straight at the unsub's head.

"T-think about this, James." You reasoned. "If you kill me, they'll kill you, and you won't be able to hear what the press will say about your murders after we expose you. Isn't that what you want? Don't you want to stop living in somebody else's shadow?"

The unsub's grip on his gun slackened. "They're not going to run a story on me. Why would they unless I keep killing?"

"They will if you give us the names and descriptions of all your victims, and we will make sure your face is front and centre for every single one." Spencer added. The unsub looked into both your eyes, seemingly searching for a hint of a lie, but there was none.

"Fine. Looks like the lady lives, this time." He gave up, dropping his gun to the floor and putting both hands on his head.

"James Luther, you are under arrest for the murders of Lucy Patt..." Derek recited his rights while dragging him away. You braced yourself against the car, catching your breath.

"Are you okay?" Spencer rushed over, sweeping you into a hug before you could even reply. You buried your face into his shoulder, tears welling up in your eyes involuntarily as you inhaled the familiar scent of paperbacks and coffee.

"I-I'm okay, baby. I'm okay." You mumbled, not sure if you were reassuring your boyfriend or yourself in that moment.

"It's okay, just let it out. You're safe now. I'm here. You're safe." He repeated, stroking your back as he kissed the top of your head again and again and again until you lost count.

You'd never been so relieved to arrive back at the BAU. Penelope was the first to give the two of you a big hug when you returned, fussing over the small cut on your face and the bruises on your arms, while you reassured her that you'd been cleared by the medics to go home.

"Good work today, both of you." Hotch called out from behind, shooting a small smile at you and Spencer. "Reid, take her home, and take a day off tomorrow. The two of you deserve it."

"You wouldn't be able to drag me into work tomorrow if you tried." You joked, and Spencer chuckled. For the first time, he wasn't about to argue with an order to take a break.

Nor was he about to argue when you asked him to come in to your apartment, or when you asked him to stay the night.

The only thing he wanted after tonight, was you.

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Tag List:

@blue-space-porgs @nobutalsoyes @lady-loves-a-lot @queen-flower @agentcarterisgay @totalmess191 @sapphic-prentiss @oops-all-ajs @spottedzebrasinpartyhats @mellowalieneggsknight @kenny-0909 || @averyhotchner @amesandpineapples @willowrose99

#mads fics #spencer reid x reader: a lesson in romance #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fic #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid x reader smut

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unanuvola · 4 years ago

Text

I see your true colors (and that's why I love you)

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x reader

Genre: Romance and a little bit of angst

Summary: Ethan had a secret and you unexpectedly found out

⁂~⁂~⁂

"Waitwaitwait!" you shouted while running towards the door of the building in which Ethan was living with his family.

Fortunately, the old lady waited for you, "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, miss." she replied, smiling.

At that moment you noticed the shopping trolley, "Do you perhaps need a hand with your…"

"Oh no, my dear! It's almost empty and I can do it by myself, but thank you for the concern. Have a nice afternoon." and she disappeared, with a brisk pace, in one of the doors which faced the courtyard.

The elevator was on the ground floor and you jumped in it, already savoring the afternoon you were going to spend with Ethan. No big plans, just the two of you enjoying each other's company.

As soon as you get off the elevator, you put some cherry lip balm, your boyfriend's favorite, and you hadn't the time to ring the doorbell, that the door opened.

"Mrs. Torchio!"

"Y/N! I didn't expect you. Ethan didn't tell me you were coming… Classic!"

"Classic!" you both exclaimed at the same time, causing a laugh, "In his defense, I arrived very early!"

"Come in! I don't have much time because of work, but how are you? I haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah, I started to study seriously for the maturità. Unfortunately, it's very close."

"You're such a good girl," Mrs. Torchio praised you, not knowing that his son usually calls you that when he's inside you, "if only Ethan would go into studying like that instead of always playing drums. Nevermind! He's in his room, but if you need anything, you know the house perfectly. Now I really have to go!" she was closing the door, when she reopened, "There are leftovers from the lasagna in the oven, bye!"

No matter how many years you knew her, you were always mesmerized by how she talked fast as opposed to his son.

Before heading to Ethan's room, you decided to stop by the kitchen for a glass of water. You took your favorite glass, the Nutella one with Speedy Gonzales on it, and poured some water into it, but you didn't have the time to drink because you heard a bustle coming from one of the bedrooms.

Your heart began to beat violently from the fright, however this didn't stop you from running through that room with the first book taken at random from the library: the Divina Commedia, 664 pages and you were so ready to throw it to whoever caused that mess.

You opened the door of Ethan's room, but you didn't find anything or anybody, then you heard noises from the twins room. On tiptoe, you approached the door and snapped it open, with the book above your head and you saw Ethan, dressed with a t-shirt and sweatpants, sitting in front of his sister's vanity, looking at you from the reflection of the mirror. He had his hand on his mouth and his eyes were a mix of surprise and fear.

"Ethan.. Is everything alright?" it was just after asking it that you noticed some makeup on the floor together with two crumpled up tissue paper covered with red spots. Without hesitation, you launched the book on the bed and reached Ethan who was still looking at you, shocked. "What happened?" you kneeled in front of him, a hand on his knee to reassure him, while with the other hand you took one of the tissues. You looked at him, searching for any type of connection, but Ethan was desperately refusing to lay his eyes on you. Preoccupied, you moved your eyes from Ethan's face to the tissue. If at first you were scared that those red spots were blood now, that you could watch them closely, you relaxed a bit because definitely it wasn't that, however.. "Is this.." you let the question unfinished, trying to not push Ethan.

"Please Y/N, don't look at me!" he whispered, his hand still on his mouth, "I don't want you to see me like that."

You quickly looked away, trying to respect Ethan's plea, but when you heard soft sobs, you lifted your gaze and you felt as if somebody had clutched your beating heart. Now Ethan's hands were on his face, letting you glimpse, involuntary, what was causing him so much shame.

You stood up and sat on his knees, embracing Ethan in your arms, "There's nothing to be ashamed of, Ethan," you whispered, while caressing his back. His tears were falling on the nook of your neck and his arms tightly surrounding your waist almost as if he was afraid to lose you.

"Y-you won't l-leave me for this, right?" he sighed in your ear, then he finally looked at you, "Please, don't leave me! I-I swear, I won't do this anymore, but please stay with me."

Seeing your boyfriend like this broke your heart. Your eyes flew from his puffy eyes to the red lipstick smudged on his lips. You passed your thumb on them, they were soft and wet from the tears. Your eyes were almost mesmerized by the redness on his skin caused not only by the lipstick, but also by the rubbing.

You were sure now that your arrival caught him by surprise. Probably, when he heard noises coming from the kitchen even though his mother must have already left the house, he tried to take off the lipstick, but then he made a fuss and the next thing that he saw was you ready to fight with a book in your hand.

He must have been so scared, you thought, caressing his long hair that was all over his face. You tried to comb it, putting some lock behind his ears. Now that his beautiful face was free of hair, you gave a light peck on his lips.Your hands rested on his cheeks, stroking gently his smooth skin, and forced him to look at you straight in the eyes. His cheeks turned bright red even more and you could see the flush spreading on the neck and disappearing in the collar of his light blue t-shirt.

"You won’t get rid of me easily, okay? This sounds like a treat and probably it is," Ethan let out a weak giggle, while you were still stroking his cheeks, "but I love you, Ethan Torchio. I love you so much and if you think that I'll leave you just for this.. Well, it hurts, you know?" your boyfriend was about to answer, maybe saying that he was sorry, but you kissed away his words, "Don't be sorry, you don't have to.. Yeah, I'm a little bit disappointed, not because of what you did, but because you didn't tell me about it. However I also understand that sometimes revealing your own desires isn't easy." you smiled sweetly, trying to comfort him.

"I was scared to tell you, even if I know that you’re pretty open to, you know, this kind of stuff.. But now, it's like a weight had been lifted," Ethan finally smiled and you could think of how beautiful he was, "and I'm feeling stupid for not telling you this before."

"I'm sure you would have told me when you would have felt more comfortable with yourself..."

"Yeah, you're right, but in the end things went like this and, frankly, I'm glad," he took your hands, turned them up and he gave you two small kisses on your wrists, "I never told this to no one, except to Erika, but that was a mistake."

"Oh my God, Erika knew it?!"

"She caught me while I was putting on my lips her precious Russian Red by MAC. She was furious! It was so expensive that no one could use it, neither Lucrezia or Eleonora, much less his annoying brother. Can you believe that she didn't talk to me for a month?!"

You tried to hold back, but you started to laugh as soon as Ethan looked at you like a kicked puppy, "I'm going to ask her some details next time!" you exclaimed, out of breath.

"Don't do this to me cucciola!"

"Of course I'm going to do it!" you teased him, knowing that you'll never ask anything to Erika.

The bedroom was filled with the laugh of both of you and you could cool down just when Ethan pulled you towards his chest, "I love you."

"I love you too," you kissed the tip of his nose, "and now, what do you think about removing all this mess and putting.." you turned to your vanity, trying to choose one lipstick from your collection, "What do you think about my Stunna lip? The Unattached one."

"If I can choose, I would prefer Rouge Vie."

"I see that your taste is still refined since you were a young boy!"

Even Ethan's ears blushed hearing those words and you couldn't stop thinking about how adorable he was.

He was reaching your makeup pads, when you stopped him, "Let me take care of you," he nodded.

First, you put some micellar water on the cotton pad and then you gently rubbed on his lips and the skin surrounding them. You took your time, enjoying feeling his lips under your touch. When his skin was completely clean, you leaned your mouth on him and sucked his bottom lip, letting the taste of - maybe too many - coffee filling up your mouth.

"Your lips are so soft."

"Uhm.. I love to hear you say that," he said, biting his lips and then trying to kiss you again.

"Wait! Let me finish first," you searched for the lipstick, but just after a few seconds you realized that it was one of the things that fell earlier. Quickly, you bent down and took it, "Ready?" you asked him, removing the cap.

"Yep!"

You placed the lipstick on his cupid's bow and you started to trance the edge, then you filled the rest of the lips. It was so beautiful watching those full lips getting stroked by the tip of the lipstick and the color was so rich that his mouth seemed even more plump.

"Here," you gave him a napkin, "put it on your lips, so you can get rid of the excess of the lipstick."

Ethan let your waist free since you sat on his knees and took the tissue paper. He did what you said, he put his mushy lips on it and left three pecks, his deep and desirous eyes never leaving yours, then he turned it back to you.

"Don't you throw it?" he asked, while you were putting the napkin in your pocket.

"Nah.. I'm going to put it in my diary, so every time I have to write something, I'll think about your lips."

"What a romantic girl you are!"

You raised your eyebrows, pretending to be outraged, "I'd prefer naughty, but yeah, I can accept being your romantic girl!"

Your boyfriend slid his arms around your hips and you moved a little closer, feeling the warmth of his hands through your dark blue blouse. You put your right arm around his shoulder while with the other hand you were playing with the necklace on his neck.

"My girl.." he whispered, his hot breath on your ear giving you chills, but when you felt his mouth dangerously near to your neck, you stopped him.

"Wait, wait, wait! You don't want to ruin your lipstick, right? Let me see.." and you moved away a little, just enough to see clearly his face, "I'm not a makeup artist, but I think that the final result is pretty good. What do you think?"

Ethan turned his head to the mirror and watched himself, "I'm.. I'm feeling beautiful," he looked at you, his eyes sparkling, "Thank you for not judging me."

"Thank you for trusting me."

"You know that I never kissed someone with lipstick on?"

You gasped, "What a coincidence! I've never been kissed by someone with lipstick on! Would you be my first?"

"Only if I can be your first!" and in no time he lifted you up from his knees and he brought you on the bed, his lips glued on yours.

You happily watched your meticulous work getting smudged on his face and certainly on your face too and you were the double happier at the thought that after this, hopefully never-ending, make out section there was the lasagna leftover waiting in the kitchen. Sometimes life is a bitch, but tonight you seemed to win the jackpot.

#ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio x you #ethan torchio one shot #ethan torchio #måneskin fanfiction #maneskin fanfiction #måneskin #maneskin #my writing

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sohin-ace · 4 years ago

Text

Dio - Stolen Dance

For immersion, listen to the Dark Waltz Music - Vampire masquerade collection on youtube. Oh boy

Especially 'Tonight Ve' Dance' that shit hits the spot for this fanfic. Trust me.

"Would you honor me with a dance, Y/N?"

'Hell no', was what you craved to answer to this charming yet cruel man. Dancing with him meant selling your very soul. You were about to dance with the Devil.

But you had no choice.

You tried to run away from him, from his toxicity, from his poison, but he always managed to get you back and trap you in his web. And now he offered his warm, destructive hand for a dance, just a single dance with him.

And you had no choice.

You could not refuse. You had no right to. It was oh-so reluctantly that you had put your trembling, cold hand over his possessive one. He pulled you towards him as the music played in the luxurious ballroom.

He laid his large hand around your corseted waist, pulling you to him and bringing your bodies a little too close for your own comfort. Way too close for a gentleman to conventionally be from a lady.

But he didn't seem to care one bit as your heart pounded heavily in your chest. He could probably feel it from this proximity. And he most definitely drowned himself in it.

You hesitantly, and regrettably put one hand over his broad shoulder in what you could only call a ghostly touch. You barely wanted to touch him and potentially show him a form of validation from his wrongdoings.

He engulfed your other hand in his own, relishing in the adorable yet terrifying size difference. If he wanted, he could just close his entire hand on yours and claim it as his. Just how he could easily close the distance between you and claim you just the same.

People were around. The ladies and gentlemen of the World. High class society, partying mondanely through the night. Couples dancing, businessmen meeting, Madames chatting.

Oh but in these decorated mansions, the families yearned to see newfound lovers, for what a sight it was.

Some were watching you in earnest and maybe even admiration, glad to see how the charming, handsome Dio Brando of the Joestar Estate was gracefully swaying in rhythm with the gentle, beautiful Y/N L/N, daughter of the Lord L/N.

Your face felt warm, burning almost and it was not a comfortable feeling. Maybe it was the close proximity between him and you, maybe it was all the unnecessary attention you were receiving, putting pressure and forcing shyness upon you.

Maybe it was the rising anxiety that built viciously within you and made yout heart pump violently in your chest, or maybe it was the pure hatred you felt towards the blonde man holding you captive within this very dance.

It didn't matter what it was, it felt horrible, suffocating. You could barely breathe, the room was spinning.

You were always taught to look at your partner in the eyes when dancing, but now your partner wasn't just anyone. It was Dio Brando. There was no way you could look up at his soul-piercing amber, no, crimson red eyes. Like gems of blood.

If you looked at them, if you even glanced at them...

"You are quite tense, dear." He released your hand briefly to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, letting cool air hitting your now more exposed cheek and temple. "Relax and follow my lead."

You wanted to scoff at his words. How could you relax when your only wish at the moment was to run away from him? Your family was nowhere to be seen, Jonathan was nowhere to be seen. No one was there and no one would help you.

"You stole this dance, Dio," You growled quietly, not wanting to gather even more attention to yourself. "But it will be the last thing that you'll steal from me. Heed my words."

You finally met his eyes to grace him with a glare and he only looked down on you with mockery and a hint of fondness. As if your anger was endearing to him. He hummed in amusement.

"Hmmm...? Do I take it that everything else will be graciously given to me...?"

Before you could even gasp at his scandalous assumptions, you missed a step and fell forward, right against his solid chest. He of course didn't waste a second in wrapping his strong arms around your small form.

You could hear the other guests whispering and chuckling, probably drinking in the sight and preaching how cute you both were. The beautiful Y/N L/N clumsily falling into the arms of the very handsome Dio Brando.

Like a princess and her prince, right from a romance story. It was really fresh to witness and people just couldn't wait to see you both engaged, you looked so perfect together. After all, in this mondane society, it was all about looks.

If only they knew the truth.

You tried to push yourself off of him as you laid your palms flat on his chest, but he held you there firmly. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest and the blonde leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"Let us go somewhere more private darling. I am tired of those curious eyes."

You felt like you were about to faint and really wanted to get out of that busy room, but surely not with Dio. As you didn't have much of a say in this, you let him guide you away, to one of the many chambers in the mansion.

He opened the door wide for you and you entered the empty, cold room bathing in darkness, not sparing him a single glance and went straight ahead to the large windows that lead to a beautifully decorated balcony.

You stayed inside though, as Dio closed the door behind him and went on his way to light a gas lamp that was laid on a night stand.

You gently pushed the silky curtains aside to glance at the moon outside. You stared at her magnificent silver light, completely forgetting where you were and that Dio was still in this very room.

You sighed, comforted by the moonlight. The moon was full on this cold night, it was the end of the year and it felt like the nocturnal satellite decided to show off all of her magic tonight.

Sometimes, you envied those legendary creatures who lived solely by the moonlight. Fantastical beings who could see the moon through all her phases and for as long as they lived. Werewolves, Vampires...

"...Beautiful, isn't it?"

You gasped, startled by his sudden deep voice so close to your ear. You swiftly turned around and glared at him, offended that his appearance tore you off your pleasant rêverie.

"Oh, please do continue. The moon reflects so deliciously on your skin, it is beyond mezmerizing."

"Yo-... you're losing yourself again, Dio!" You tried to sound strong and composed, but you couldn't help the slight whimper from escaping your throat.

"Maybe..." He lifted his large arm next to your head to fully open the curtain behind you, the sudden position flustering you as you felt trapped yet again.

You looked down as you contemplated fleeing. How many attempts was it now? You stopped counting after the 20th, but you wanted to flee again.

Not bearing the sight of his broad chest in front of you, you turned slightly back to the window and side-glanced at the beautiful garden.

There was a large maze in there. The thought of maybe trying to lose Dio there was very appealing. It turned your once melancholic and lonely expression into a softer, more relaxed one.

The moonlit maze alone filling your heart with an ounce of hope, the ghost of a smile reached your lips and eyes.

"What a sweet expression you are sporting, my love." The blond devil put his large hand on your cheek and turned your head to face him as he purred. "Although I delect myself more from your despaired expression."

Disgusting. This man was disgusting. You put a hand over his large wrist as a sign to tell him to let go of you, which he patently ignored.

He leaned forward, hovering dangerously over your face as he lifted your chin up, a soft smirk stretching his lips.

"Now tell me... what could my dove possibly be thinking about to make her look so beautifully blithe?"

You looked downwards to the red brooch on his tie, the ornament suddenly more distracting than his dominating burning gaze on you.

"I was thinking of getting away from you. It gets me going." You spoke the unfiltered truth with bitter sugar dripping from your voice.

The man before you froze upon hearing those words. Were you challenging him? Him?! The Dio Brando?

You drove him so crazy. Oh you drove him to such unfathomable frustration. His blood was boiling and pumping ferociously in his veins.

His entire body cringed, his fists balling tightly. He ground his teeth as his eyes widened in pure rage. Or was it rage? No it was deeper, more twisted than that.

It was lust.

He needed to gather all his self-control to prevent himself from breaking something or rather someone right this instant.

Yes... He could break you. Oh and it would be so easy and so satisfying, too. Nothing could quench his thirst more than destroying every inch of you at that moment.

You were such a nasty pest, you were so terribly problematic, no wonder he was so infatuated with you. So obssessed with you.

You were bad, maybe as bad as him. You pushed on all his buttons like no one ever did and yet, you played the cute little perfect girl in front of everyone else.

You made him so insane, so mad. He wanted you all to himself. He yearned for you to get your revenge on him, to be infuriated with him. He craved you right here, right now. He loved that you hated him.

Swiftly, he pressed his weight against you and pushed your body flush against the window as you gasped in surprise, barely able to even react at the forceful contact.

He was quick to catch your wrist and pin it next to your head as you tried desperately to push him away, your other hand uselessly resting on his much stronger arm.

You tried to squirm away, but his body meddled with yours in an emprisonning cage. You couldn't hide your panicked pants anymore.

"You damn woman..." He breathed in a shaky hiss right next to your heating ear, his tone way darker now and his eyes half-lidded. "Do you even realize what you are doing to me?" He spat with venom but also with dripping excitement. "You are in deep trouble, darling."

He nuzzled his face in your exposed neck, drenching himself in your sweet scent and you shuddered, his hot breath on your skin making the hair at the back of your neck stand.

Your heart hammered alarmingly inside your chest as his malicious hold triggered your Fight or Flight response. This was bad. Real bad. You struggled against his grip, writhing and pushing him.

But struggling against him was futile, useless. So useless, useless, useless...

"I hate you, Dio Brando. There's not a single piece of you that is remotely redeemable!" You growled in his ears through exhausted pants. "Hear me when I say this, I despise every inch of your disgraceful being, Dio-ugh...! I hate you with all my might...!!"

"Yes!" He grunted hungrily as he put his free hand around your hips, leaving no space between your body and his, feeling all of yourself against him. "That's it, that's what I want to hear! One more time... Scream it."

"You disgusting bastard... You have no shame..." You squeezed your eyes shut, you refused to cry. Never for him. He didn't deserve it.

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N... Please." He was crazed, Dio lost himself, yet again. "Sweet Y/N, let me make you mine... Be mine... I know you want this..."

Just like that, the man above you craddled your body like his most prized possession, teasing the pulsing point of your neck with his lips, tongue and teeth. He clutched your hips and wrist in a bruising grip and you knew there was nothing you could do.

"I'm going to ravish you, destroy you..."

And so he did.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #writing #jojo no kimyou na bouken #dio #dio brando #dio x reader #dio brando x reader #jojo part 1 #part 1 #phantom blood #x reader #reader insert #dubcon/noncon

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 4 years ago

Text

In the Middle

One of your boyfriends tries to rile up the other.

You get caught in the middle in more ways than one.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit, minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: None really

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

There were pros and cons to having two boyfriends.

You fought a never ending battle pulling hair from the shower drain. You had double the texts to reply to; double the calls to return. No matter how comfortable you were when you fell asleep, you always woke up with a crick in your neck and someone’s elbow in your face.

Hizashi craved attention more than oxygen and sulked if he felt even slightly neglected. He spent just as much time chasing kisses as he did styling his hair. He sang in the shower, the bathtub, the rain and was only too eager to drag one or both of you in for a duet. You learned the hard way not to stand next to him in front of the bathroom mirror, for he would bump his hips against yours until you sang along to the radio with him and you’d ended up with eyeliner halfway across your face more than once.

He would spend the day pouting if no one gave him a good morning kiss and drew smiley faces in ketchup if left to plate up at dinner. He was a handful and a terrible influence; the polar opposite of your other boyfriend in every possible way.

Shouta was neither loud nor demanding. He could go days without talking, much less singing, and was happiest dozing off on the couch with his head in someone’s lap. His affections were subtle and easy to miss, while the emotions behind them were anything but. He met you halfway when you reached out to touch him and smiled in his sleep if you kissed him on the forehead. He would complain if you wriggled into his arms while he was working, but rearrange his position to accommodate you nonetheless.

Hizashi needed attention, while Shouta rarely sought it and nine times out of ten you and Hizashi were the ones who did all of the seducing.

Today was no exception to that particular rule.

Summer had hit Musutafu seemingly overnight. It was too hot to sleep or even snuggle on the couch. All you seemed to do lately was curl up on the floor in front of the electric fan in as many clothes as you could bear, while Hizashi stood on the balcony in a tank and shorts, stretching like a cat and mopping the sweat from his brow. It was too hot for leather and too humid for hairspray- sacrifices he had had to make, but was far from happy about.

Shouta remained relatively unchanged. He still went out at night to patrol the streets and continued to plan classes on his laptop on the couch, changing into thinner clothes, but remaining otherwise unaffected.

He was on his laptop, in fact, on this day in particular, drafting out a plan for 1-A’s future training exercises. In the meantime, Hizashi had opened up the box of popsicles you’d been keeping in the freezer and the pair of you took turns in front of the electric fan.

It was only a matter of time before the quiet, heat and lack of attention got to Hizashi and he had rested his head on your lap, golden hair splayed across your thighs. At first it was enough to snake one of his hands under your shirt and cup your breast, but before long that too lost its appeal. He shot side glances at Shouta every so often, sighing and running his tongue over the popsicle.

And so it was you found yourself caught in a battle of wills.

Hizashi waited for Shouta to look over before touching his tongue to the ice. If his gaze lasted longer than a couple of seconds, Hizashi would curl his tongue. Shouta made a point to catch his eye and not react.

Both sides were too stubborn to cave and, as usual, it fell to you to break the tension.

You took the popsicle from Hizashi and leaned back, running your own tongue over the ice. It was on the verge of melting and syrup dripped onto your shirt, causing you to gasp most theatrically and pull the shirt away from your body as if it wasn’t in the least bit planned. At first Hizashi had pouted when you stole his popsicle, but now he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“It’s rude to take things without asking, (Name),” he said, sitting up. “The least you can do is share.”

You held out the popsicle and he sucked at the end, leaning back to allow you to do the same. You made sure to moan far louder than was necessary, as if it was something far less innocent than a popsicle.

“Ahhh, it’s getting all over my mouth,” you said, wiping the syrup from your lips and chin. “What am I going to do?”

“I can help with that,” said Hizashi, seconds before grazing his lips over yours, checking to see if Shouta was watching before deepening the kiss.

His lips were cold and he tasted of mangoes, the same flavour as the popsicle you’d been sharing. It was sweet, but the realisation that Shouta had stopped typing was far sweeter.

Shouta didn’t seek attention out, that much was true, but he sure as shit hated being left out of the action.

~~~~~

It was only a matter of time before you ended up on your hands and knees in the bedroom. You dug your nails into the bedcovers as Hizashi gripped your hips and took you from behind, all while Shouta bunched your hair in his hands, kneeling in front of you and thrusting into your mouth.

You barreled forward every time Hizashi slammed his hips into yours, moaning from the sensation of his dick hitting the one spot that made your toes curl.

The sounds Shouta was making were obscene. The vibrations of your moans against his dick combined with the way each thrust sent it deeper down your throat left him trembling. He could do little more than hold onto your hair and even then his hands were shaking.

Hizashi was absurdly quiet, all things considered, though you couldn’t turn your head to see why. You got your answer when he made a wet sound behind you and let out a moan, something icy landing on the small of your back.

“Hizashi...are you...are you still eating the popsicle?”

“No.”

More syrup landed on your back.

“Maybe.”

You heard the smack of his lips as he put it back in his mouth only moments before he took up such an ungodly pace that you took Shouta’s cock into your hand and jerked him off, grabbing onto the bed covers so tightly that your knuckles went white. The tension inside of you was too much to bear. You felt like you were going to explode.

You squeezed your eyes shut and squealed as you came undone, mind falling blank and legs shaking. It was like an electric shock burning through your core, leaving you unable to do anything but absorb each pulse.

Hizashi slowed down to enjoy the feel of you cumming on his dick, but the reprieve lasted only a few short moments. He guided you down onto the bed and over onto your back, shifting positions with Shouta, who lifted your knees over his shoulders.

He didn't have remotely the same stamina as Hizashi. You doubted any human did. He was, however, girthier and only too happy to torment you with it. He took you slow and deep, dragging sighs from your lips at the overstimulation. You were still having aftershocks from cumming the first time and saw stars each time his hips hit yours.

You turned your head to lick the tip of Hizashi’s dick, matching the pressure and speed of Shouta’s thrusts. Hizashi sucked in a deep breath, leaning over to grab Shouta by the hair and moan into his mouth.

The first time you had ever had sex with Hizashi, he shattered every window in your apartment building. You had laughed it off as an earthquake, though got the feeling no one believed you.

You had learned the hard way that he was loud when he came and the easiest way to prevent it was to stifle the sound before it could leave his lips, be it with a gag, by sitting on his face, preoccupying him with a blowjob or, as was the case now, with kissing.

You lay on your back and watched them nip at each other’s lips, waves of pleasure rushing through you. You were glad Shouta was holding onto your legs, for it felt as if the bones had left your body.

Hizashi was the next to come, whimpering into Shouta’s kisses as his dick twitched. He sat up and gave himself a final couple of tugs before spilling over your chest. Shouta followed suit, sitting up onto his knees and coming across your stomach.

Double the boyfriends, you considered fleetingly, double the mess.

~~~~

You stayed in bed for at least an hour after that, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow. It was still unbearably hot and no one was particularly enthusiastic about putting on clothes, even though the heat from one other’s bodies swiftly overpowered any relief from the electric fan.

“Why is it that whenever you two have shenanigans I end up in the middle?”

You could hear the fatigue in your own voice; the perfect compliment to how heavy your eyelids felt.

“I thought you liked being in the middle,” said Hizashi, only to squeak as you poked him in the ribs.

“I suppose I should take a bath,” you groaned, peeling Shouta’s arms from your waist and untangling your legs from Hizashi’s.

Your legs were more than a little floppy, but you disguised it by dropping to your knees to pick up your discarded clothes.

“(Name),” said Shouta, “wait.”

You turned to him, heart fluttering. Ordinarily he tolerated hugs at best, but on the rare occasions you managed to keep him awake after sex he was the biggest cuddler you’d ever met.

Maybe he wanted you to go back to bed.

Maybe he wanted to join you in the bath.

“Yes?”

“You’re blocking the fan.”

You turned to the fan behind you, heart sinking.

“And they say romance is dead,” you muttered, stepping out of the room.

Hizashi and Shouta closed their eyes, enjoying the feel of the cool air against their exposed skin. The peaceful moment was soon over, though, for seconds later you slipped your arm back through the doorway and flicked the off switch.

“Hey!!”

“(Name)!”

“Switch it back on, switch it back on!”

“Make me,” you said, sticking out your tongue and closing the door behind you.

“Oooooh,” Hizashi huffed, climbing out of bed. “When I catch you…”

He ran out of the bedroom and chased you through the apartment, paying little heed to the fact that you were both as naked as the day you were born.

Shouta turned over onto his side and fluffed his pillow.

He could sleep through just about anything; a fire alarm...hot weather...

...and, apparently, the sound of his two idiot lovers spraying one another with water.

#erasermic x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #present mic x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #erasermic #eraserhead x present mic

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reinvent-and-believe · 4 years ago

Text

saying your names

Prompt: hallucination Relationships: Geralt & Visenna Rating: T Content Warnings: unintentional but constant misgendering by a parent; depiction of gender dysphoria in a small child; reference to child self-injury (scratching); abandonment issues; minor book spoilers Summary: Visenna's child is claimed by a witcher through the Law of Surprise. When she bears a daughter instead of the promised son, she thinks she's cheated Destiny. But Destiny rarely accepts such defeat. (Or - the trans Geralt mommy issues fic)

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

i. The Brave Knight

There’s an old fairy tale from far-away Toussaint, one Visenna remembers her grandmother telling her when she was little more than a babe, of a cohort of the bravest knights who gathered at the behest of the first duke to slay monsters and defeat villains and protect the land from all manner of evil. They were five in total, but none rivalled the gallant Sir Geralt, who defended the innocent and the weak, who perfectly embodied the Virtues, who fearlessly and faithfully loved the beautiful maiden Liliana. It’s a story like no other, full of heroics and chivalry, grand quests and epic romance. Visenna remembers sighing as a little girl, of braiding flowers into her shining copper hair and pretending to be Lady Liliana, rescued by that most puissant and most chivalrous of knights.

She hopes that her own daughter will love the tales as much as she did, so she recounts them while Greta lies in bed, wide dark eyes barely blinking as she soaks in every detail. She’s two now and obsessed with stories, any silly rambling thing Visenna remembers from childhood or improvises about the forest creatures near the village, but none have captivated her quite like this tale.

The next day, Visenna hears her daughter whacking at the swaying cattails at the bank of the river with a stick. “I defeat you!” comes the tremulous cry. “I Sir Geralt! I brave knight!”

It’s a small thing, and silly, yet Visenna goes cold.

ii. The Babe

When she realizes she’s with child, Visenna knows it will be a boy, feels it as sure as she feels the wind on her face, the blood pounding in her veins. She’s happy for a time. She knows the horrors women face, has seen, has felt firsthand the cruelties the world inflicts on beautiful little girls. Better a boy, then. Better a boy with a chance at a good life, a boy she can teach and train, a boy who won’t beat or violate or torment.

A mere month before the babe is due, the man returns, and finds her with child, and tells her what he’s done. He blames Destiny and the Law of Surprise and Tradition as Visenna learns a new type of cruelty men can inflict.

And so she hardens herself, tells herself that she will not become attached to what’s growing within her, this life promised to pay a life debt. “Don’t be absurd,” her friends tell her, through nervous glances. “You always assume the worst. It may well be a girl. The witcher won’t have need of a girl.”

But Visenna knows it, feels it with every spark of chaos within her and every pulse she sends out. The babe will be a boy, and she will have to give him up to the witchers, to be trained and transmuted into something other, something more and something less than the child she’ll birth.

And so Visenna grows cold.

When the midwife puts the squalling red girl with dark hair and wide dark eyes in Visenna’s arms, she sobs for days, sobs until she has no tears left and her eyes are raw and swollen. She won’t let the tiny thing out of her sight, barely lets others hold the babe, even in her utter exhaustion. Destiny may have promised her child to the witchers, but Destiny made the folly of giving her a daughter instead of the promised son.

iii. Greta

Greta will not wear her clothes.

At first, it’s almost a game. Visenna dresses her in a frock while the three-year-old protests then glares in turn when she’s overridden. She moves stiffly in the garment, pulling at the sleeves and tugging at the skirt, but she complies. But the minute she’s out of her mother’s sight, the dress comes off, and Visenna finds her naked, regardless of the weather. And the process repeats.

The struggle over clothing is only the beginning. Generally obedient, respectful, intelligent, Greta is nonetheless not an easy child, prone to inconsolable fits of panic and distress, prone to disappearing if not constantly monitored. It’s as though Visenna has birthed two different children. There’s the sullen, timid girl who hates wearing clothing, who barely speaks, who flinches at the sound of her own name, who stiffens in panic sometimes when she’s called, who cries at the slightest provocation, who goes missing only to be found after a frantic hour of searching lying on the floor in the narrow space between her bed and the wall, staring blankly, hearing nothing, seeing nothing. Then there’s the other child, the one who cuts dark curls short with the pruning shears from the shed, who runs fearlessly through the woods, slaying invisible monsters all around, yelling and laughing and breathless.

When a young couple with a son not much older than Greta moves into a nearby cottage, Visenna hopes that companionship will stabilize her daughter’s volatile, inexplicable moods. Instead, it leads to an immediate altercation: on the first day Greta and the boy Marek play together, the boy’s father shows up on Visenna’s doorstep, furious, with a wide, bleeding gash in his hand. He’d found them wearing each other’s clothes, he tells her. Greta had refused to surrender Marek’s clothes, and when he moved to force her out of them, she’d bitten his hand. “Like a rabid beast,” he spits out as Visenna runs past him to the small shack where Greta makes herself as small as possible, shaking all over.

Visenna shoves a few coins at the man with a glare. “Buy your son another outfit,” she snaps, and when she kneels down to Greta’s level the terrified child’s arms wrap immediately around her neck. She takes her child home in the roughspun tunic and trousers.

(Maybe she should punish the child for biting, but Visenna knows the ways men can be cruel, had seen the terror in her child’s huge brown eyes. Even if he meant no harm in trying to retrieve his son’s clothes, she can’t help being glad the child bit him rather than permit his touch.)

Visenna has never listened to Greta’s thoughts before, rarely listens to anyone’s on purpose, hates the uneasy sense of violation the act stirs up in her. But as she carries the silent, shaking child home, the thoughts ring so loudly she can’t keep them out.

Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl.

Then:

Not a girl.

iv. The Child

The morning after the incident with the neighbor, Visenna lays two outfits side by side on the bed: the tunic and trousers nicked from the neighbor boy, or the dress most frequently tolerated, a plain shift of soft linen, comfortable and loose.

"Which would you rather wear today?" Visenna asks, making the beds as usual. She hears the sharp intake of breath, sees out of the corner of her eye the hesitation, and then the child grabs the boy's clothes and cradles them in trembling arms.

Visenna visits a tailor and trades in little frocks for breeches and shirts. She watches her child’s face light up when she presents them, watches the child run reverent fingers over each garment, little hands doing their best to neatly fold each piece.

She stops calling the child Greta; stops calling the child anything but child. The child doesn’t seem to mind this namelessness; on the contrary, the child thrives. The too-thin frame rounds out with healthy, nearly chubby development as the child begins to eat more than a few bites at each meal; weak, skinny arms and legs grow strong with constant running and playing in the woods near the house. Banished is the pale, terrified little girl; only the rambunctious, talkative, joyful child remains.

"When I'm a knight," the child tells her one day, coming in from the yard wearing a bucket as a helmet, "I'm going to ride a big horse."

"Oh, a big horse," Visenna echoes, ladling the soup into a wooden bowl and blowing gently to cool it. "What will you name the horse?"

The child considers this. "Does it have to have a name?"

"All creatures need a name."

The child doesn't speak for a long while. Then that piping, gentle voice rings out. "What if the horse hates its name? It won’t be able to tell me."

Visenna sets the bowl down on the table. She doesn't ask any of the questions pounding through her head as she looks at her nameless child, lost in thought. She doesn’t think about Destiny, how a witcher may well show up at her door at any moment looking for their payment, doesn’t think about taking the child there herself. "Helmet off," she says instead, running a hand through dark curls when the child obeys. "Come, eat your soup."

v. The Butcher

She first hears whispers of the Butcher of Blaviken when she’s traveling through Poviss, brought north by an outbreak of smallpox needing healers. She hears of the vile, deranged, white-haired witcher who slaughtered nearly an entire village unprovoked, even women and children. She thinks little of it. The child she left with the witchers over half a century ago had brown hair, and the years would not have turned it so quickly, not on a witcher.

If he’s even still alive.

She puts the thought away, carefully, as she has for decades.

She thinks of it a little more in Kovir. “You’re one of them!” shrieks a woman in the tavern, pointing at a bulky man sitting in the corner. “One of them witchers like that Butcher! I seen your wolf necklace!”

All eyes train onto this disfigured witcher who is not Visenna’s child. (Does her child bear scars like this? Do his shoulders stoop in such defeat?) He scrubs a square hand over his face, looking almost pained, before he shoves away from the table in silence and leaves.

School of the Wolf, then, just like the witcher she’d surrendered her child to with naught but a letter left at the inn where he was staying. Your Child Surprise will be at the crossroads by the river at midday. A few brief, stilted sentences explaining that the child was different from other boys but Destiny had chosen him nonetheless. A terse plea that the witcher treat the child with kindness, to protect him if he could. A postscript, written in a shakier hand than the rest of the letter. My son’s name is Geralt.

Vesemir. The child’s father had called him old, grey-haired even then. Is Vesemir this Butcher, the ruthless, barbarous old witcher who leaves a trail of fresh corpses in his wake? Had she entrusted the helpless child to a merciless brute all these years ago?

It’s not until the notice board outside of Tridam that she understands. It’s a fairly standard notice concerning some vague, nondescript monster that’s caused disappearances, pleading for help from any witcher, excepting the butcher Geralt. Show your face in Tridam and we’ll finish you off like they should have done in Blaviken.

Her child, the Butcher of Blaviken.

She doesn’t know what happened in Blaviken, can’t find a clear telling. Killed a woman, some say, killed an army, killed all but three people, killed everyone down to the dogs and cows and sheep in his rage. Tales grow in the telling, she knows, but she can’t dispute it. Perhaps he is evil incarnate, perhaps by sending him to the witchers she doomed the continent to bloodshed, perhaps he is the monster in these furious whispers.

But she can’t help remembering the tiny, terrified body, rocking in the corner of a shack, those wide eyes staring up at her in panic. “Like a rabid beast,” the man had said, but Visenna found only a petrified child shaking in the corner.

vi. The White Wolf

The young man swaggers towards Visenna. Between the bright turquoise doublet, the enormous feather swooping dramatically through the air on his jauntily tilted hat, and the self-assurance of his stride, he looks like a veritable peacock.

It’s her own fault. She knows she’d been staring, but the sound of that name on his lips…

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” His smile is bright and surprisingly genuine, reaching all the way up to his eager blue eyes. He’s younger up close than she’d imagined from across the tavern, barely more than a boy. “Though not half so lovely as you, I daresay. Might I interest you in a drink?”

She nods, silent. Watches him charm a passing barmaid who blushes and quickly returns with the desired ale. He slips into the chair across from Visenna, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his long fingers together beneath his chin, fixing her with a wide-eyed, adoring smile.

Before he can speak, she asks, “Your song. About the witcher.” She pauses, unsure what she means to ask. “Did you write it?”

Somehow the boy looks even more delighted. “Indeed I did! By the gods, it’s wonderful to chat with a fan. It’s one of my most recent compositions. How did you like it?”

“Hmm.” The boy’s song had been so jarringly different from any reference to the child she bore than she’s ever heard. In the bard’s honeyed voice, he sounded almost heroic. She hesitates. “Do you know him?”

“Only a little,” he admits, but there’s a slight flush on his childish face that he attempts to cover with bravado. “The song is the true telling of our grand adventure. I accompanied the White Wolf on his quest to defeat the Devil of Posada, the most terrifying monster to ever...well, terrorize the good people of the Valley of the Flowers.”

“And he’s...he’s not what people say?” Those huge brown eyes staring up at her, tiny body trembling. “Not a butcher?”

“Oh my good lady, not at all!” The bard’s expression of dismay is guileless, earnest. “He saved me, put himself between me and harm’s way when we were captured by the elves, offered his own life for mine.”

A life debt. Just as the child’s father had promised the Law of Surprise to the old witcher, the vow that had set the course of Geralt’s life before he was even born. And now this strange boy owes Geralt a life debt of his own.

“So that’s why,” she confirms cautiously. “Why you write songs for him. Make him the hero when men would be more than happy to remember him as a monster.”

The boy hesitates, his charismatic blustering slipping as he bites at his bottom lip. He reaches distractedly into his pocket, finding some trinket he rolls about in his palm to occupy his busy, nervous hand before he slowly answers. “Even if he hadn’t saved my life I would have written about him. Well, not if I hadn’t survived that particular encounter, of course. But if I’d gotten away myself, or if I hadn’t followed him into the wild in the first place, I would still have written about him.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I…I don’t think he’s known very much kindness.” The bard doesn’t look at her, quite, as he speaks, slower and softer than before. “You ought to see the way he responds to a simple compliment, you’d think his head might explode, he twitches and looks bewildered and grunts angrily. It’d be amusing if it weren’t so very sad.” He’s quiet for a moment, tracing the wood grain in the table with his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. “But he’s kind, even if the world isn’t. He gave his reward for the contract to the…well, to someone who needed it more. And before that, he…” He glances down at the dull gold coin between his fingers, rubbing absently at worn, beveled edges, his face flushing prettily. “He liked my singing.”

She watches the bard, lost in thought and fiddling with a lone coin, for a long while.

vii. Geralt

A slip of a thing running through the woods. Frightened. Alone.

A fight. Gruesome, brutal, fast.

The stench of decay.

“And me? What did I do? I bandaged a wounded man who’d fainted away and put him on my cart and didn’t leave him to expire. It’s an ordinary matter.”

“It’s not so ordinary. I’ve been left...in similar situations...like a dog.”

Blood. Not running, red and healthy and clean; slow. Thick. Dark. Foul.

Infection.

Youths dancing in lusty delight on a warm spring night. A woman with raven curls, naked and wistful in his arms, the warmth of a bonfire lighting her face a beautiful gold. Children screaming, playing in a dried moat. A queen, formidable and sneering, full of contempt.

Hideous wounds, threatening the leg. Amputation may be necessary, without immediate intervention.

Resin in the air.

Ashen hair matted over the clumped, drying cake of blood deforming half of a pale face.

Black potion with a green seal. And then darkness.

Visenna awakes with a start.

The druids’ campsite is still, the last embers of the fire the only light in the darkness of the forest. She pulls the woolen cloak around her thin shoulders, grabs her medical bag, and goes to find the witcher that was once her child.

She finds him a pale and bloody mess on the back of a cart, eyes open and unseeing. He’s racked with feverish chills as his body desperately attempts to fight the infection poisoning him.

She helps the merchant move Geralt carefully onto blankets on the ground. She tends to him, as she’s tended to thousands of others. She cleans his wounds, scraping destroyed, decaying flesh away from healthy tissue, pulling the gentle pulses of chaos from the earth to purify his blood, draining infection and necrosis and narcotic alike from him.

She’d cleaned blood and dirt and debris from scraped knees, once, the too-fast beating of a little, huge heart pounding so loudly she could feel it. The wounds of childhood.

His pulse is slow, the drumbeat of a dirge.

She’s warm all over, suddenly, then cold. Her vision swims before her eyes.

A little more. The pulsing wanes, wavers as she begins to join him in the dark void beyond consciousness.

No.

She breathes, her eyes closed, then returns to her work.

She feels him stirring before he makes a movement, senses him swimming to the surface, coming to. He’s quiet, still, blank. When his eyes open, he’s staring at the treetops above them. His face is impassive. Lifeless.

The way she would find him, sometimes, after he went missing as a child. Staring at nothing. Trying not to be.

She can hear it in his voice. He knows.

His leg will heal, now. She’s done all she can.

She moves on to the bedsores, massaging ointment carefully into the open wounds. His body is stiff and unyielding beneath her touch.

She gives him what she can. “It’s my profession,” she says. Her voice is steady, cool. It’s no excuse, no answer, but it’s what she has. “The only thing I’ve ever been good at.” This much at least is true. This much she can give him.

She’s always known she would meet him again. She never sought him out, never avoided him. “People linked by destiny will always find each other.” She hears it, as though it’s someone else’s voice.

“I want you to look at me.” It’s a snarl. Not a sound she’s heard from those lips before. “How do you like my eyes? Do you know, Visenna, what they do to a witcher to improve his eyes?”

She knows enough. She meets his gaze.

Those eyes, the greatest marker of his difference, his inhumanity. They’re golden, now, instead of brown. His pupils are wide, round, black, pained. They aren’t so different. So monstrous.

Just the eyes of a terrified child lashing out in desperation.

“Do you know it doesn’t always work?” he demands.

“Stop it, Geralt.”

And something breaks.

“You don’t get to use that name!” There’s a frantic rage dripping off every syllable, hatred and agony, like a festering wound ripped open and left to bleed. He glares at her with a wild fury. “Vesemir gave me that name.”

And he’s a child, he’s three years old and screaming like he’s being tortured when she calls his given name. He’s five and distraught over the thought of a horse who hates its name and can’t tell anyone. He’s four and he’s a trembling mess with blood beneath his fingernails, shaking and unable to stop ripping at his own flesh.

“You trusted Destiny rather than trying to find me yourself,” he begs.

A child with nothing in the world running through the forest and into the arms of a witcher.

There’s a tear running down her face. It’s the only thing she can feel. “Don’t ask me any more questions,” Visenna says softly.

“Why?”

She’d known since before he was born that she wasn’t to keep him. That Destiny had other plans.

When she thought she had a daughter, there was hope.

“The answers will only hurt us both.” Carefully, Visenna presses him back into the makeshift sickbed.

“Yen was right.” His voice is low, barely audible, a broken murmur. “It’s not enough to be destined for each other.”

A child runs through the woods and finds a witcher waiting.

Brown curls become ashen locks. Eyes swirling brown and gold and green.

“Something more is needed.” He’s not speaking to her anymore. He’s staring up, at the treetops and through them to the stars above, his eyes losing and regaining focus. “I...I want…”

“No.” Her voice is soft, and she sees him relax into the smooth cadence in spite of himself. “Go to sleep, Geralt.” She hesitates as his eyes grow heavy, begin to drift shut, and she can’t help leaning toward him to gently whisper, “And just between us, Vesemir didn’t give you that name.” She lets herself reach out, carefully brushing white hair off his sweating brow. “It doesn’t change anything, but I’d like you to know that.”

“Visenna…”

“Sleep. I was just a dream.” She hesitates, watching silently as he fights the exhaustion, like a child fighting to stay awake past his bedtime, begging for one more story. “Sleep, Sir Geralt.”

He does.

viii. Sir Geralt

She does not see him again.

She travels to Sodden and heals the injured, soldier and mage alike.

She hears tales, as she has for years.

Geralt’s kidnapped a young Cintran princess for unspeakable, nefarious purposes.

Geralt died on Thanedd, caught up by chance in the mages’ bloody revolt.

Geralt led the forces of Lyria and Rivia against Nilfgaard, earning himself a knighthood and a position in Queen Meve’s army.

(She doesn’t believe any of them, doesn’t let herself care either way, but she hopes the latter is true. Hopes he lives out the rest of his days a brave knight, as he always dreamed of becoming.)

Visenna works. Cleans and stitches and bandages wounds, wanders from battleground to battleground. There’s no shortage of work for a healer.

So many tales of Geralt the witcher, Geralt the traitor, Geralt the butcher, the knight, the outlaw, the hero, the father. Of his victories and defeats, his loves and enemies, his transcendence, his demise.

Visenna listens to them all. Collects the stories, the lies, the praises, the calumnies. She draws them carefully within her. Carries them with her as she continues on the path.

For all the rumors and speculation and ballads, of all things, for all the different Geralts, there’s one that’s hers and hers alone. A skinny, adventurous child with brown curls and a bucket-helmet falling into his eyes who swings a gnarled oak stick as a sword. He’s ever vigilant, ever ready to defend the weak against the unrelenting onslaught of monsters only he can see.

#the witcher fic #the witcher #geralt of rivia #visenna #trans geralt #my fic #still don't really know how i feel about this but here it is #witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years ago

Text

Let Me Get Close To You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “wrong number” square. I sat down to write this a couple of days ago & just couldn’t stop - I hope you guys enjoy the cute little verse I created (that I’ll more than likely revisit soon!!). Here’s my bingo card - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary:

Stuck with the worst professor for Nuclear Science, Peter tries to vent his frustrations to Ned - only to send a desperate text message to Tony Stark, instead. When an immediate spark and so many things in common make it easy for Peter to fall further for the elegant genius, what’s the worst that could really happen?

Or: the one where Peter texts the wrong number & romance ensues.

Read on AO3 here.

----

Fuming from a frustrating Nuclear Science class, Peter maturely stomped his way out of the engineering building. They were only two weeks into the semester and the old man already had Peter on edge. His major revolved around the class and his ability to get the most out of the information. The dinosaur that stood at the front of the lecture hall every day hadn’t had an original thought since the 90s and refused to see when others did. Much like every old white man, Dr. Milner’s ideas were the be all end all of a science that changed by the millisecond.

Still pretty new to campus after a late sophomore year transfer, Peter didn’t have many people to turn to that weren’t his nerdy and standoffish teammates on the Academic Decathlon team – most of those guys lived in a world a couple steps from the norm, happily keeping to themselves. Though Peter existed there eighty percent of the time, his need to be social and fill a space in the real world made it impossible to commit to that sort of isolation fully. Straddling the line made it difficult to exist on either side – Peter’s favorite pieces of himself were what kept people away, no matter the lifestyle.

With his mind so heavy with all sorts of negativity, Peter suddenly found himself homesick; he spent so much of his life trying to escape the streets of New York – so far from home now, Peter missed them desperately. Thinking about his tangible connection to his favorite urban wasteland, Peter pulled his phone out and hastily typed in Ned’s new number.

Peter Parker [1:23PM]: Hi, I hate it here. Peter Parker [1:24PM]: Dr. Milner is out to get free thinkers. I may not survive the next fourteen weeks.

Peter already felt a little better after typing the words – the mere ability to get one of his many worries off his chest did wonders. Until his phone pinged with a new text message notification, of course.

Nimble fingers pulled the phone from his pocket, his eyes carelessly looking over the screen as it unlocked. Expecting to see Ned’s name there, Peter almost threw the phone to the ground when Siri’s suggestion registered.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:26PM]: Hi stranger! I think this was meant for someone else, but I too think Dr. Milner is out to squash any new idea that doesn’t fit the mold. In his forty-year career, he hasn’t changed a bit.

Another text message was below it, but Peter forced himself to stop reading – his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest already, too much excitement at once couldn’t be good. Out of all the numbers he could’ve accidentally typed, Tony Stark, New York’s genius and resident beauty, Peter’s secret (though not so much) crush, ended up on the other side of the line. The unbelievability of the idea made Peter consider a well thought out prank. Then again, how did any of his fellow classmates know Tony Stark’s personal number?

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter made himself look at the second text message waiting unread.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:27PM]: I’m not sure how you got this number, but I sincerely hope you make it out alive. If you’re in Milner’s class, you’re on the Nuclear track, which means you must be smart. Trust me, the world needs your future contributions, whatever they might be.

Peter gripped the phone a little harder after reading through the second message over and over again. He let his eyes take in each of the words, wondering, if it really was Tony Stark, how anyone ever survived talking to him. In so few sentences, Peter already felt discombobulated, both more confident and turned around than just seconds before. Aside from his infatuation with the man, Peter understood Tony Stark’s contributions to the technology community and the world at large more than most.

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to text back – every time he tried to type something, his fingers froze just centimeters above the screen. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask to make sure he wasn’t getting catfished. Instead, Peter took the direct route, his courage obviously all or nothing in the face of something as big as an accidental interaction with Tony Stark.

Peter Parker [1:35PM]: Holy crap – excuse me for the bluntness, but is this really Tony Stark? Siri doesn’t often get things wrong, especially since I souped her up. But I’m sure you can understand the apprehension. Peter Parker [1:37PM]: Would you be up for answering a few questions just to make sure?

The tip of his finger tapped against the screen impatiently after he hit the send button, his nerves and the not-so-subtle excitement were barely contained under the surface of his skin. He couldn’t remember a time where feeling alive was so prominent.

A smile slipped across his lips when, a moment later, three consecutive texts vibrated Peter’s phone in succession.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:40PM]: You souped up Siri? Steve Jobs is probably turning over in his grave right now. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:41PM]: I think I’m the one that should be asking the questions, don’t you think? How did you even get this number, Peter Parker? It’s a private line. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:42PM]: I am, though – Tony Stark, I mean.

Peter Parker [1:45PM]: Reconfiguring tech is kind of my thing. I used to dumpster dive in high school – you’d be surprised by the cool pieces of technology people put in their trash. Peter Parker [1:46PM]: Oh, bringing out the big guns – I’m happy to see Siri without my latest addition works for others, too. Peter Parker [1:47PM]: It was an accident, sending those first texts to you. My friend in New York just started a new job that came with a paid phone. I still haven’t saved the number. You are one off from him. Peter Parker [1:48PM]: Alright, Tony Stark. Tell me what campus I’m on.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:53PM]: I’m not surprised by anything human beings do, especially in New York City. Throwing out a perfectly good iPod is certainly not the weirdest thing I’ve heard of. Did you make anything interesting in your trash conversion adventures? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:54PM]: You talk a big game, Mr. Parker. Can you walk the walk, too? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:55PM]: He must be on my payroll, then. The bank of numbers my employees have come from my personal network. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:57PM]: That’s an easy one. You’re at MIT – Milner was there when I was a student. The only thing that’s probably different between then and now is the amount of hair the old bag has.

Peter Parker [2:01PM]: You’re not wrong, Mr. Stark. I made things that helped me be self-sufficient. I grew up really poor and couldn’t afford the things everyone else had – so I figured out how all the tech worked and made my own. I’ve been using a ten-year-old iPhone for ages. Peter Parker [2:03PM]: You bet. Are you challenging me? Peter Parker [2:04PM]: He is, actually. He started in an entry level position two weeks ago. Peter Parker [2:06PM]: It’s gross, isn’t it? I’m glad we’ve moved past projectors in the classroom – the hair on his hand would make for a distracting shadow. Peter Parker [2:07PM]: Okay, okay. I think I’m convinced. One more test, though – send me a picture.

Maybe – Tony Stark [2:14PM]: Oh boy, none of that Mr. Stark shit. As far as you’re concerned, I’m Tony. Only Tony. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:15PM]: You made your own. That’s – impressive. I’m impressed and more than a little curious. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:17PM]: Challenging you, no. Enticing you, yes. I’m visiting Cambridge to do a guest lecture series next week. Come see what Stark Industries is up to – I’d love to hear what you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:18PM]: It was as bad as you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:20PM]: Okay, Peter Parker. [IMAGE ATTACHED]

A gasp of shock left Peter’s mouth when he opened the last text to find a smirking Tony Stark looking right at him. To prove the time and date, Tony held up the New York Times, his free hand pointing to the headline Peter read on his phone earlier that morning. After the shock of actually talking to Tony Stark wore off, Peter let himself take in the picture and all of its details.

Tony’s desk was largely visible in the shot – pens and stacks of paper littered the surface, a few rogue pieces of tech ready to be fiddled with acted as paper weights and grungy aesthetic. The man himself was breath taking – his glasses were a deep violet, offset beautifully by the crisp white shirt and black waistcoat covering Tony’s upper body. A light purple tie was loosely knotted at his throat, as if he fiddled with it while working just to keep his hands busy.

Without much thought, Peter saved the photo and added Tony to his contacts before replying – there was no reason not to trust the man, the spark in his shiny hazel eyes seemed to genuine and real to even question.

Peter Parker [2:25PM]: Only Tony, got it. Peter Parker [2:26PM]: Curiosity is good – keeps you fresh and on your toes. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: Oh, I see. You want a chance to impress me. I like that. Not sure what my opinion is going to do for you, but I’ll be happy to share it. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: Gross. Peter Parker [2:30PM]: I’m – you’re… Wow. You really are Tony Stark.

Tony Stark [2:37PM]: I think you’ll have no problems keeping me on my toes, Peter. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: I have a feeling your opinion is one that I’ll be very interested in. You’ve been nothing but blunt this entire conversation, I know I’m getting the real deal stuff. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: I am. I really am Tony Stark. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: It’s your turn, Peter Parker. What face belongs to that beautiful brain of yours?

Forcing himself to breath, Peter looked around the room for the best spot to return the favor. The bed was a hard no, he didn’t want to send the wrong vibe to a person who could easily have whomever they wanted. His desk was small, but meticulously organized – his study materials open and ready for a night of reviewing the only thing obscuring the surface. It was obvious Tony appreciated his brain, it seemed pertinent to take advantage.

After a few attempts, Peter found the perfect angle to catch the light in his eyes, making them shine brightly in the camera. He thanked the clothing gods that he chose a well fitted three-button Henley in his haste to get out the door that morning. The feeling of satisfaction was new, but not unwelcome – he wanted to send Tony the photo; for once, he knew it would impress.

Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Keeping implies longevity. Are you planning on sticking around? Peter Parker [2:56PM]: My brain to mouth filter runs at less than 10% at all times. It has brought me more trouble than shutting up ever would. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: You’re gorgeous. Violet is a nice color on you. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: What do you think? [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Tony Stark [ 2:37PM]: Yes. I think that’s the answer to that question. You’ve presented a puzzle I want to solve. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: Shutting up never got anyone anywhere. The noise we create is what shapes us. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: Thank you – I have a lot of it in my wardrobe. Tony Stark [2:44PM]: & you called me gorgeous; Peter Parker, you’re a stunner.

Peter Parker [2:51PM]: You’re a scientist, you do that for a living. What makes me so different? Peter Parker [2:52PM]: That’s a refreshing opinion. I like the way you think, Only Tony. Peter Parker [2:54PM]: That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Do you tell the person who made you blush that you’re blushing? I don’t remember that standard operating procedure.

Tony Stark [3:01PM]: My intrigue is of a personal nature only – the puzzle you pose is of a different sort. Usually, I think and think and think until I solve whatever the problem is. With you, I want to gather all the clues and take it apart piece by piece. Tony Stark [3:02PM]: That’s a little heavy for only knowing each other a couple of hours, but when you know, you know. Tony Stark [3:03PM]: Not usually, but I have a feeling you’re an exception to a lot of things, Peter Parker.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Peter continued to exchange flirty text messages back and forth with Tony – the mood stayed open and easy as the time passed. The older man helped Peter get through Nuclear Dynamics and three hours of decathlon practice. For all the brains Tony had, Peter was surprised to find humor and a bit of insecurity, too. Tony let himself go on tangents and make dad jokes that were a step away from being obscene.

That trend continued for the rest of the week and well into the weekend. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Peter knew Tony’s schedule, half the newest late-night discoveries, and the way Mr. Sweet Tooth took his sugary coffee. Though a line of attraction and want existed, Peter was happy to know Tony as a person without the ability to act on the obvious tension between them. And while he appreciated the wholistic way they were coming to know each other, Peter couldn’t wait to see Tony throughout the week, either.

The older man seemed to share his sentiment – the shrill notification of a text message received pulled Peter out of his thoughts.

Tony Stark [7:30PM]: Hey, Pete! I present at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon. Want to grab something to eat afterwards? Tony Stark [7:31PM]: I’m impatient to get back to Hogan’s and thought you might appreciate his culinary prowess.

Peter Parker [7:35PM]: Tony – this is the fourth time you’ve reminded me about your presentation. I’ll be there. For dinner, too. Peter Parker [7:36PM]: Culinary prowess; if it merits that title, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

Tony Stark [7:42PM]: I know – I just get some performance anxiety. It helps to remind myself that you’re going to be there. Tony Stark [7:43PM]: It is. Hap is an old friend of mine. He left MIT to go make his restaurant dreams happen and has been stupidly happy ever since.

Peter Parker [7:47PM]: I get it – I’ll gladly be your security blanket, Tony. Peter Parker [7:48PM]: Something tells me there’s more to that story, but I’m sure you’ll tell me one day. I’m excited to try it. Should I look up the menu beforehand, or let it be a surprise?

Tony Stark [7:55PM]: I like the sound of that. I’ve pictured having you in my arms often. Tony Stark [7:57PM]: There’s always more to the story, Pete. Let it be a surprise! In fact, I’ll order for you to make sure you get the whole newbie experience.

Peter Parker [8:05PM]: I’ll boldly say you can have me in your arms as often as you like. Peter Parker [8:06PM]: The newbie experience – there hasn’t been a time in my life where that’s been a good thing. Peter Parker [8:07PM]: Yet. Surprisingly – I trust you.

The next day went by quickly – Peter took a quiz in Nuclear Science and dug into his other two classes to keep his mind focused on anything other than Tony’s imminent presence. His last class was a core history class, so he gladly tucked into the reading the professor let them loose to do. The chime of his alarm broke through Peter’s fog a couple pages from the end of his assignment. Though he liked to be ahead, Peter gladly took the extra few minutes to get himself together before heading to MIT’s presentation hall.

Decked out in his finest pair of black jeans, a blue denim short-sleeve button down, and solid black high-top Converse on his feet, Peter walked the few minutes it took to get back onto campus from his small apartment. Unsurprisingly, a line was formed out the door of students hoping to get into the presentation last minute. Tony told him earlier in the week that they waited to advertise his appearance until the a few hours before to stop the masses from flocking. To Peter, the time restriction seemed to only make it worse.

In Tony’s excitement to have Peter there, the older man set aside a ticket for him – instead of joining the line like he might’ve without Tony’s insistence, Peter walked straight into the cool auditorium, snagging a seat at the end of a row located dead center in the auditorium. The vantage point was perfect – Peter wouldn’t have any trouble catching Tony’s eye as he spoke. Grinning at his access to such a simple pleasure, Peter relaxed back into the seat, passing the time until Tony took the stage by watching the crowd flood in around him.

It wasn’t long before the lights were dimming and a sweaty, high ranking alumnus gave Tony Stark a mediocre welcome onto the stage. The crowd broke out into a cheer that more than made up for the old man’s subpar words. Tony timed his entrance perfectly; he walked out as the energy rose, the shift in the crowd’s tension working to enhance everyone’s excitement. Peter found himself glued to the man, who until that moment, existed entirely on the other side of the phone – he didn’t want to miss a single second of full-body absorption.

A black suit coat sat snuggly on Tony’s shoulders, a singular button keeping the sides closed. His dark hair was elegantly styled, the bed-head look enhancing the easy-going style Peter knew Tony strived for. The facial hair Peter came to truly appreciate over the last few days of texting drew attention to his sharp cheekbones. Tony seemed genuinely happy to be there if the beaming smile on his face said anything at all. With a few claps and the corniest joke, the older man got the crowd under control, proceeding onto his speech with an effortless transition.

As expected, Peter found himself interested from the very beginning. Tony’s new work on energy and its uses amongst transportation and city overhaul was ingenious – when things got up and running, New York’s power grid would run completely on sustainable energy. So many thoughts flashed across the front of Peter’s mind – he wondered if Tony would let him take a look at the blueprints. He might not have much to contribute, yet Peter understood the opportunity for learning and development when it presented itself.

By the end of Tony’s presentation, Peter was overjoyed to know that he wouldn’t need to feign interest in the topics Tony brought to the table. For a while, Stark Industries went through a slump of working on weapons and junky tech Peter found in the trash more often than he ever wanted to admit. It felt good to be excited about something new coming from the company – Tony Stark was the smartest person in his field, anything less than almost perfect just didn’t do the man and his ideas justice.

After fielding a lot more questions than Peter expected, Tony headed off the stage with a roar of applause – the genius wasn’t a household name for nothing. Smiling at the thought, Peter pulled his phone out; he got to see behind the curtain more than others – he felt a sudden surge of gratefulness at the fact. Every person around him would do anything for the privilege; taking that for granted just wouldn’t do.

Peter Parker [6:45PM]: You’re an incredible public speaker, Tony. Peter Parker [6:46PM]: Thanks for making me come!

Tony Stark [6:49PM]: How inappropriate of me is it to say that this isn’t the only time I plan to make you come?

Peter Parker [6:55PM]: Very, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless. I’ll meet you over by the Engineering building whenever you’re done trying to outrun your fans.

Tony Stark [7:00PM]: You’re fucking hilarious. I’ll meet you there in five.

True to his word, Tony snuck up behind Peter a few minutes later – soft palms that gave way to well-earned callouses pressed against Peter’s cheeks as Tony covered his eyes. The mere fact that Tony was there at all was surprise enough; the touches and softly whispered “Hello, Pete,” in his ear felt like more than enough to cause a coronary.

Shaking his head to clear it, Peter turned in Tony’s arms, a huge grin playing across his lips. With the way they were standing now, Peter’s chest was pressed delightfully against Tony’s – he felt each and every one of Tony’s inhales of oxygen and exhales of carbon dioxide that brought Peter’s attention to the firm muscles pressing and pulling the man’s abdomen. His breath caught when Tony palmed his cheek, their mouths mere inches apart. Despite not actually knowing each other, Peter felt comfortable in Tony’s embrace.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter finally replied after allowing his breath to mingle with Tony’s. As they stood there pressed together, neither could decipher where one started and the other began. The thought made his grin grow a little wider, the courage inside of him pulsing a little more boldly with life. “You were amazing up there.”

Tony remained perfectly still; his limbs seemingly frozen in a clench to keep Peter close to him. His grip was firm, both the hand on Peter’s hip and his late day stubbled cheek. Like the man himself, Tony’s touch left something behind that kept Peter on the hook, always seeking more. He half expected for Tony to lean in and slot their lips together – his deepest desires and tangible wants were starting to collide in such close proximity.

Instead, Peter’s smile was returned with quirked cheeks and bright hazel eyes. “You weren’t too bored?” Tony asked, his voice soft in the small space between them. His thumb swiped constantly across Peter’s cheek, the obvious need to move apparent, even in such an intimate situation.

Chuckling lightly, Peter shook his head. “So far from bored. My thesis research is all about sustainable energy – you had me interested from the very beginning,” Peter replied almost immediately, not caring that his excitement clearly shone through in the pitch of his voice. The way he was leaning into Tony’s touch, Peter didn’t have much of a chance to disguise his truth, anyway.

“You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for – I can tell already.” Tony’s words were mumbled almost as if the older man was embarrassed to say them – to hand out such a compliment to someone other than himself. And yet – Tony’s hesitation made the statement mean so much more; the rarity of such kind words (despite being spoken so softly) did nothing but make Peter want to melt into Tony even further.

Before things could get too mushy or physical, Peter took a large step out of Tony’s arms – begrudgingly, the need for space was prominent if they ever wanted the night to continue. Never mind the fact that paparazzi were constantly hounding and following Tony wherever the man went. Though he was deemed an appropriate companion at the time, Peter was more than sure the public would not agree.

With that thought in mind, Peter shot Tony a shy smile – “I’m pretty famished. Want to show me what Hogan’s is all about?”

They spent the ten-minute walk talking about the presentation – Tony grilled Peter about a few of the technical parts, while Peter drooled a little bit over the projected uses of Tony’s new energy storage and production. Like two nerdy peas in a pod, neither could help themselves – geeking out and talking about something they were both interested in made the rest of the world melt away. Peter might’ve kept on his tangent if it weren’t for a tall, thickly built man clearing his throat.

Looking up at the noise, Peter realized they’d walked a few blocks already and were standing in the lobby of a well-maintained hole in the wall that radiated the most delicious smells. Grease and cheese and freshly dropped French fries hit his senses all at once – there was no doubt that whatever they were about to consume would be more than delicious.

Peter was seconds away from wiping drool from his chin when Tony broke out into action. He took the couple of steps between their current position and the hostess stand to wrap who could only be Happy in a firm, breathtaking hug. “Happy, my man. It’s so good to see you,” Tony exclaimed as he stepped away, an adorable look in his eyes. “I’ve been talking this place up to Peter here, thought I’d cash in on your good will.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Peter – Tony looked at him like something he couldn’t wait to deconstruct, while Happy tilted his head curiously, as if the one glance would tell him all he needed to know about Peter Parker. Unwillingly to stand there like an animal on display, Peter broke through the weird with a soft laugh and a light wave.

“Nice to meet you, Happy. Tony’s been selling me on your food for days now. I can’t wait to try it,” Peter said, his shoulders rolling back to help him stand a little taller. Though he had nothing to prove to the total stranger in front of him, Peter couldn’t help but want to make a good impression – Happy obviously meant something to Tony; their comradery and easy affection said that without much effort.

There was a moment where all three guys seemed to look between each other – Peter watched with bated breath as Tony and Happy carried on a silent conversation with just a few blinks and forehead crinkles. By the time Peter understood what was happening, Happy stepped a little closer to him, his big hand reaching out for what could only be a handshake. Without hesitating, Peter took it – for whatever reason, the handshake felt monumental; like with the one touch, he beat the level boss and gained access to the next one.

“Good to meet you, too. Tony’s good about that sort of advertisement – we probably wouldn’t have made it without his ugly mug around at the beginning,” Happy replied. “You guys know what you want? I’ll get it on the grill personally.”

At that point, Tony stepped back into the spotlight and grabbed the reins – he ordered everything at rapid fire speed, like the menu existed as a hard copy in Tony’s mind. Considering the warmth of the older man’s welcome and Happy’s cryptic words, Peter didn’t doubt that Tony was a regular – more than likely a founding customer, even.

It took no time at all for their food to come out to the small table in the corner Tony led him to. The tray was piled with an abundance of food – cheese steaks, fries, burgers, even a couple of desserts littered the table as Tony unpacked their haul. Peter’s eyes were wide, his mouth watering with a want that only Zap’s Bodega could illicit before. “This – it all looks amazing,” Peter babbled, his stomach both hungry and overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Just wait until you taste it. Happy used to crank out these cheesesteaks on the little hot plate we had in our dorm room. They were excellent, but the addition of the flattop has made them unbeatable.”

Unable to decide what smelled the best, Peter grabbed whatever was nearest to him. His fingers wrapped around the greasy paper of the aforementioned cheesesteak, his mouth watering even more. “So, you and Happy were roommates at MIT?” Peter asked around a large bite, the food in his mouth muffling some of the words. It really was good – worth looking like a pig in front of the most beautiful man alive.

“Hap and I go way back. His father worked security at Stark Industries – he was on my dad’s personal protection team for most of my life. When Happy’s mom died and the need for babysitting became a thing, Happy started to spend the evenings with me after school. In a lot of ways, he’s the only family I’ve ever had. When he first opened up this place, I was young and just looking for some investment that would piss my dad off. I knew Happy had talent, but neither of us thought this place would blow up the way it did.” Tony looked up then, a vulnerability in his eyes. “We’ve been in business together ever since.”

Smiling encouragingly, Peter nodded in Tony’s direction – their closeness, Tony’s unwavering advertisement and protectiveness, even some of the food names he could see on the menu; it all made sense. After taking another bite of the cheesesteak, Peter chewed slowly before responding. “There’s always more to the story, right?” he questioned cheekily. “It sounds like your gamble worked out for you – I didn’t look at the menu, but I did Google Hogan’s; there’s ten locations within a 300-mile radius.”

A snort had Peter looking up, his eyebrows quirked. “I should’ve known,” Tony said through a laugh. “Your generation is all about instant gratification.”

Their eyes locked then, Tony’s words and their meaning sitting in the space between them. Peter forced himself not to blink – he wanted to memorize the rich hazel color that barely ringed a growing pupil. Hunger and want and something unrecognizable existed in Tony’s glance; when it was all over and Tony moved on, Peter desperately wanted to remember the genuine rawness he drew out of one of the world’s greatest minds.

“Or just impatience,” Peter countered. He drew his eyes away, needing to break the glance to stop himself from propelling himself across the table and tackle Tony to the ground. Though it looked as if Happy kept the place spick and span, Peter didn’t want to think about Tony’s expensive suit on any other floor aside from his own.

They attempted to pull the small talk back to something a little tamer, but the road of the rest of the evening had already been paved. It became harder to focus on anything other than the thick press of Tony’s thigh against his own under the table. As the minutes passed, Peter noticed Tony staring, and after a while, the older man just never stopped. Every time he looked up, Peter caught hazel eyes taking him in – undressing him button by button with the sheer want in his eyes. A red blush took up permanent residence on Peter’s cheeks and neck, the color following him out of the restaurant and out onto the street where Tony took his hand without hesitation.

Before his mom passed away, Peter remembered a softly mumbled conversation laying across both his parents early, early in the morning. His dad’s big fingers were wrapped so neatly around his mother’s, the embrace tight, despite the hour. Peter reached out to touch the unbreakable seam, his eyes wide with wonder. “They fit,” Peter whispered softly, his finger running reverently over their joint fingers.

His mother pulled him close then, her lips finding that special place on his cheek. “One day, Petey, you’ll find that perfect person whose hands will fit yours just the way your father’s fit mine.”

A warmth settled in Peter’s chest as he slid his hand into Tony’s, their fingers interlacing perfectly with ease. The immaculate fit of Tony’s hand pressing against his own made him snuggle in further – whatever happened between them after this, Peter would forever know how easily he and Tony Stark fit together.

Giving Tony’s fingers a squeeze at the thought, Peter looked up, breaking the silence – “Do you want to see my apartment? I’m sure it’s not nearly as fancy as the hotel you’re staying at, but I’ve got Netflix and a really comfortable couch.”

Tony took a few long strides to answer, his face a little pensive. “I’d love to see your apartment, Pete,” Tony replied easily. They came to a stop at the crosswalk – Tony used his momentum to pull Peter close to his chest while they waited out the light. “I don’t care about fancy. You’ll be there.”

While Peter had lots of things to reply, his words were cut off by slightly chapped lips eagerly pressing against his own. It took Peter a second to recognize what in the glorious hell was happening – when the reality of the situation finally registered, Peter surged forward, tilting his head to not only return the kiss, but deepen it.

Both of Peter’s hands found their way around Tony’s neck to keep him close – he felt like he might pass out from the sheer goodness of Tony surrounding him without the grounding touch. He was far from a virgin, but none of his previous encounters knocked him off his feet in such a way that made Peter feel like a fumbling newbie.

Sipping from each other’s mouths, Peter was surprised by a strange and unrecognizable voice coming from behind them – “the light’s changed, fellas.”

It took an obscene amount of effort to pull away – though the stranger’s words made his face burn with embarrassment, Peter was reluctant to step out of Tony’s embrace and the tantalizing press of warm lips against his own. Regardless of his trepidation, Peter reluctantly moved back.

He made sure to slip his hand into Tony’s before they set off again.

“I’m just another couple of blocks away,” Peter reassured, a hungry smirk on his face. Tony returned the look, their stride all of the sudden lengthening. Their walk turned from a leisurely stroll to a brisk half-run. If it weren’t for the want raging through Peter’s veins, he might’ve found the change hilarious. In all of their time together, Tony never expressed impatience – he always seemed calm, cool, and collected. Yet, in the face of heat and need and the promise of bare skin, Tony let that mask drop.

Happy to know a new something about Tony, Peter reveled in the pent-up silence that carried them back to his apartment. Snagging a ground floor unit close to the entrance, they luckily didn’t have to wait for an elevator or awkwardly pretend that they weren’t about to push the other against the wall and start ravaging whatever pieces of skin they could find. Instead, Peter impatiently pulled Tony behind him as they walked between building 1 and 2 with eager steps.

After some fumbling and a set of dropped keys, Peter finally got his door open and Tony through it. Without missing a beat, Tony pushed him back against the newly closed front door, their lips harshly joining. Groaning at the contact and suddenness of it all, Peter pulled Tony in – any space left between them was unacceptable now that they were in a private space where wandering eyes and clicking cameras couldn’t see. Their obvious passion was too much for the public eye; Peter so desperately wanted to keep Tony to himself – devouring him in a safe space was only the first step.

As Tony traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Peter fumbled his hands down the older man’s chest until he could pull the crisp button-down from well-tailored pants. The second he was able, Peter shoved his hands under the soft fabric, his palms greedily pressing into Tony’s hairy chest. A groan left his mouth – the chest hair under his fingers was soft and teasing. Peter was caught between the urge to tug at the strands and lay his head gently against them just to feel the texture against his skin.

Tony made the decision for him – large hands were suddenly on Peter’s waist, his feet coming up off the ground with little effort. Unable to keep his hands where they were, Peter broke the kiss with a groan and shifted until he could wrap his legs around Tony’s hips. Peter panted for breath while his lips were still free as Tony navigated through the room blindly. Another soft moan left Peter’s lips when his back hit the pliable leather of his couch.

Where just moments before they were standing chest to chest, Peter now had the full weight of Tony against him. The older man fit seamlessly between his splayed thighs, their hips lining up in a way that made Peter’s cock pulse against the confines of his tight jeans. With a bit of shifting, their groins were matched – Tony’s thick cock felt sinful against Peter’s. If his impending orgasm was already upon him, Peter wondered what it’d be like when their clothes hit the floor and he really got to taste what Tony had to offer.

Like he was reading his mind, Tony made quick work of the buttons on Peter’s shirt. Calloused hands dragged up and down Peter’s bare chest as he pushed the navy fabric to the side – his skin was practically hairless, the only exception being a small trail of it leading down to the v of his jeans. Tony let his fingers play through that small amount of hair, his fingers teasing as they got closer to the one spot that Peter wanted him to be the most.

Deciding to take his mind off of the heat in his belly and the closeness of his orgasm, Peter returned the favor. His hands were shaky as he passed button after button through their holes. With a gasp, Peter spread the sides of Tony’s shirt to get the maximum impact of the older man’s torso. He liked what he felt before, but the view was something else – Tony’s chest was chiseled and cut, his pecs and abs straining with effort. Peter noticed throbbing veins and a few scars in his perusal; the evidence of Tony’s life and the way he lived it made Peter pull the man a little closer. Tony Stark drove him absolutely mad – every new thing he learned contributed to the insanity even more.

Before he could get lost in the thought, Tony’s lips were skating along his cheek, only to stop and caress the outer shell of Peter’s ear. “You feel amazing, Pete,” Tony babbled, his tongue peeking out to join in on the fun. “I want to taste you, feel your cock pulse against my tongue. You’re so fucking hard and I can’t fucking wait. Is that okay?”

Peter pulled back then, a soft grin pulling at his lips. In all of his sexual encounters, Peter couldn’t recall someone caring about him so thoroughly, let alone stopping to ask how he felt. Both hands came up to grip Tony’s cheeks until the older man was looking right at him. Through the haze of arousal, Peter recognized that warm spark in Tony’s eye – it was the look in that first picture that kept Peter coming back for more.

“It’s perfect, Tony. I’ll take anything you want to give me,” Peter said breathlessly. He leaned up for a kiss to drive the words home.

Tony looked genuinely happy when Peter pulled away – his cheeks were flushed with obvious arousal, his lips quirked in a saucy smile. Without saying anything, Tony nodded his head and travelled slowly down the length of Peter’s body. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans before Peter could think or even draw his next breath.

Sturdy hands didn’t hesitate to pull at the waistband of Peter’s boxers – his flushed cock was already leaking as it came to rest casually against the firm abs of Peter’s chest. Tony’s calloused fingers immediately wrapped around the length, giving a tight squeeze to the base. The sheer feeling of his crush’s hands on him was almost enough for Peter to jump straight over the edge. Catching Tony’s eyes and biting down on his bottom lip was his only saving grace – the knowing look in beautiful hazel eyes pulled a chuckle from Peter’s chest, the noise distraction enough.

“Okay?” Tony asked again, the words were spoken with his mouth hovering just inches from the pulsing flesh of Peter’s cock. He could feel Tony’s breath against his sensitive skin, everything about the situation making it hard to articulate or think or exist as anything other than a melted puddle of goo against broken-in leather.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths before nodding vigorously. He felt a red flush travel even further down his neck and torso, arousal and embarrassment mixing together to create the ultimate aphrodisiac. He finally found his voice, muttering a choked off “yes” before the motor function of speaking left him once more.

After a heartbeat and then another where neither man moved, Tony gripped the sharp bones of Peter’s hips, pushing his lower body down against the cushions. They shared another look as Tony lowered his head, his pink tongue poking out to lick lightly against the leaky head of Peter’s cock. Hazel eyes stayed on him – Tony continued to lap along his sensitive skin, all while killing Peter slowly with the heat and want reflecting back. By the time Tony had all of Peter in his mouth, Peter was seconds away from being undone.

It’d been so long, and he’d wanted Tony since he understood what attraction was. Being pinned down by the person he desired longer than some of his friendships did nothing but magnify everything that was happening. His skin felt like it was on fire under Tony’s touch – the suction around his cock felt like it was coming from all angles, everywhere, all at once. Unable to stop himself, Peter moaned, panted, and shamelessly shouted Tony’s name as the blissful seconds passed.

The telling zip of a zipper being pushed down, and Tony’s hasty shift told Peter that Tony was similarly affected. He picked up his head to watch Tony suck his cock down while his right hand moved at the same pace – while he took Peter’s cock into his throat, Tony was stroking his own erection with sure strokes. As if the heat around him wasn’t enough, the beautiful visual of Tony taking his own pleasure pushed him those last couple of steps over the edge.

Bubbling heat in his belly boiled over. Peter frantically reached down to grip Tony’s shoulder, his mouth wordlessly shaping around warning words. “I’m – I’m… fuck, Tony. I’m going to cum,” Peter finally managed to gasp out. There was just enough time for Tony to pull away, to let Peter’s pleasure splatter on the blood warm skin of Peter’s stomach. Yet, Tony held fast, instead – he redoubled his efforts, his lips tightening and throat relaxing in invitation.

Unable to stop himself, Peter let go – his hips thrust up into Tony’s enticing heat, the man’s name dripping from his lips as pulse after pulse of cum left his body. Tony moaned around him, swallowing easily without pulling his mouth away or stopping his ministrations. The suction continued until Peter was reaching down halfheartedly to push at Tony’s soft curls.

While he caught his breath, Tony crawled up Peter’s body, a self-satisfied smirk on his red cheeks. Peter grinned at him, happiness and satiation rolling off of him in waves. Without thought, Peter pulled Tony tightly to him, their lips finding each other like opposite poles of magnets drawn together by the sheer force of nature. Tony shared Peter’s taste with him, his talented tongue thrusting into Peter’s mouth with a shared groan between them. It was all so hot; Peter felt his spent cock already starting to come back to life.

With that thought in mind, Peter started to reach down to help Tony finish achieving his own pleasure; yet his hand was batted away with affectionate finesse. Peter shifted until he could meet the honey hazels he was already addicted to, a question in his eye.

“There’s no need,” Tony mumbled, his face tucking into the skin of Peter’s neck. “You’re so sexy, I couldn’t help but touch myself. The way you look in the throes of pleasure – it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Holy shit.”

Tony chuckled at the awe in Peter’s voice. “My sentiment exactly.”

For a while, they stayed stretched out on Peter’ couch, exchanging kisses and greedy touches on all the bare skin either could reach. Without so much adrenaline coursing through his system, Peter felt himself melting even further into the comfy cushions below him. After a jaw breaking yawn, Peter reached up to cup Tony’s cheek, pulling the man’s attention towards him.

“Want to stay over?” Peter asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though they were spent and wrapped up in each other, Peter wasn’t sure where Tony stood. There was a big difference between the type of intimacy physical touch and sleeping next to another human being required. The last few days, Peter fell asleep with Tony’s messages open on the bed next to him – actually sleeping side by side, in person, that was a whole new step for them.

Tilting his head to the side, Tony shot Peter a tender smile before nodding and leaning down to press their lips together.

“Yeah, Pete – I want to stay.”

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #starker festivals summer bingo #bobbie writes #let me get close to #peter parker/tony stark #starker fic #sfsummerbingo21

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aellynera · 4 years ago

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Beat the System (Poe Dameron x f!Reader; high school AU)

BEAT THE SYSTEM

My darling @autumnleaves1991-blog is doing a Writer Wednesday thing (click that link for details) and today’s challenge was:

...so I wrote this little thing. may or may not be based on things that might have somewhat happened during my years as a summer amusement park lackey.

Word Count: ~2100

Summary: You see a lot of people at your summer job, and you didn’t really want to see him or for him to see you, but that’s not how the system works.

Warnings: Female reader. High School AU. References to clowns. Complaining. Nothing else really, just a lot of fluff. As usual, mostly kind of proofread.

You kind of hated your summer job.

It wasn’t so much that you hated having to get a job in the first place, after your parents insisted that’s what you’d need to do if you wanted your own car. And the job itself was actually pretty easy, at least in theory.

The ring toss stand at the local amusement park was your domain. Your days were spent surrounded by giant stuffed elephants and aliens and teddy bears, taking money, handing out rings, watching people throw them at bottles. Ninety-nine percent of the time this also meant watching them lose. The losses generally led to another futile round of buying and tossing. And, invariably, cussing; never mind that this was a family establishment and there was a five-year-old standing three feet away from the offender.

No, it was the job on repeat for eight hours a day, five days out of the week. It was seeing all your friends come by and have fun while you literally had to watch them (but hey, at least you got paid.) It was having to work every single weekend. And it was all the people. People you’d known your whole life, people who lived in neighboring towns, busses full of people from who knows where that flocked to this place every single year.

And it was just weird to think of this place as a destination. It was just the amusement park that was there all your life, that your parents went to when they were in high school, and maybe their parents did too. This place was freaking old. But why people felt the need to come by the busload from hours away--

“Hey, I didn’t know you worked here.”

The voice broke through your ranting brain and you looked up to see a familiar face grinning back at you from the other side of the booth.

Poe Dameron was a senior. He was captain of both the football and the soccer team, treasurer of the student council, sang on the chorus, played bass in the jazz band, was in the drama club, and you were pretty sure there were at least a dozen other things he just did because he was good at everything.

He was also ridiculously hot and the last person you wanted to see you in your ridiculous, brightly colored work uniform. He stood before you looking like he just crawled off the cover of a romance novel, all tan skin and dark curls and defined muscles, and there you were with a high ponytail and baggy shorts and a shirt that would put a clown to shame.

Honestly, all you needed were the giant floppy shoes.

He was also there with a group of his rowdy, juvenile football friends, which only promised to make this hell even more scorching. At least for now, they seemed to be occupied with ogling the girl who ran the tilt-a-whirl across the path and completely ignoring you.

You scrunched your face at him. “Poe, I’ve seen you here like twenty times this summer. You’ve even played this game before. You know I work here.”

“Okay, you got me,” his grin didn’t falter. You weren’t sure, but it might have even gotten a little bigger. He handed over ten dollars. “A bucket of rings, please.”

Great, he was going to hang around. You glanced at your watch, and it solemnly informed you that your break wasn’t for another hour and half. So you were stuck there. In a virtual clown suit. With the hot senior you might have had a little crush on.

Not like you ever doodled his initials in your notebooks or on scraps of paper when the crowds at the stand died down. You denied all knowledge of these supposed incidents.

You could act like a normal person in his presence.

You sighed and took the money from him, handing him a bucket full of red plastic rings in return. “You know this game is rigged, right? They all are.”

“So I’ve heard.” He picked up his first ring. “But I am determined to beat the system.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you have to be good at everything?”

Poe shot you a quick side-eye before turning his attention back to the sea of bottles in front of him. He tossed the first ring and it flipped end over end before bouncing off a bottle top with a spectacular ding! His brow furrowed as he reached for another ring.

“Apparently not,” he muttered. “But I’ll still beat it. You see, there’s this girl I want to impress, and…” He tossed the second ring and watched it ricochet off another bottle top.

“Of course there is,” you snorted. “There’s probably a whole horde of them.”

He chuckled. “Nope, just one.”

You waved your arm in a grand gesture toward the playing field. “Well then, have at it, Romeo. You know the rules. No leaning over the rail, and you have to land five rings to win. Let me know when you need another bucket.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” he replied as he tossed yet another ring. You tried, you really really tried, to ignore the way the tip of his tongue stuck out between his teeth as he concentrated.

And so it went until the entire bucket full of rings littered the floor of the stall, with nary a single one landing on its intended target. You grabbed the sweeper and started pushing them back into the bins underneath the counter.

Poe growled in frustration. “Seriously?!” He waved another ten in your direction and you handed him another bucket, giggling as you made the exchange.

“I told you, it’s rigged. But…” you crooked a finger to motion him closer. And then tried to remember how breathing worked as he leaned in, now just inches from your face.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

The attempt to subtly clear your throat was only half successful.

“Well, I didn’t tell you this,” you pointed toward the bottles, “but the table is slightly higher on that side, and so is that one part in the middle. If you aim for those bottles, you can probably bounce the rings onto the lower ones.”

The grin he flashed almost blinded you. “Beat the system.”

“Beat the system,” you agreed.

You leaned back and watched. After the first six rings or so, Poe seemed to figure out which bottles to aim for and how to toss the ring (with a bit of spin, of course) and before you knew it, his fifth ring landed on the center bottle and he was shouting “yes!” with a little fist pump.

“I am impressed, Dameron,” you said, clapping. “I bet this girl will be too.”

“I hope so,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Did he suddenly look kind of shy? No, that wasn’t Poe Dameron. He was the polar opposite of shy.

“Which one?” you asked, pointing to the prizes hanging above you.

“Which one would you pick? If you just beat the system and you were trying to impress someone?”

“Uhhh…” Why in the world was he asking you? It didn’t matter, this was his deal, you just worked there. And quite honestly, you probably wouldn’t pick any of these monstrosities. They were huge. And kind of weird looking. And neon colored.

After a few moments of confused contemplation, your eyes finally landed on a giant purple teddy bear, half hidden behind a chartreuse alien and an orange thing that was trying to impersonate an octopus. You pulled it down and handed it over.

“Here you go, the least weird thing you just spent twenty bucks on when you could have just gone to the mall and bought something more reasonable.”

“Nah, this is perfect,” Poe replied, grabbing the bear. It was nearly half as big as he was. You often wondered how anyone dragged them around the park for the rest of the day, much less managed to get them home. “Thanks for the advice.”

You couldn’t help the smirk that rose on your lips. “It was either that, or have to explain to my supervisor why you would have ended up hanging around until the park closed.”

He laughed loudly. “Rey would have understood. She’s cool like that.”

“Geez, you’re good at everything, do you know everyone in the entire galaxy too?”

Poe didn’t seem to hear you, though, as he looked over his shoulder and around the area, and you followed his gaze. His friends were nowhere to be seen and vaguely, you wondered when they’d wandered off and why they hadn’t very loudly announced it to him. He glanced back at you with a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, I should go find the guys,” he said. “And let you get back to work.”

“Yeah, okay,” you replied. All of the easy-going rapport from the past however long Poe had been there suddenly evaporated and every ounce of awkwardness you normally felt around him returned. “I’ll see you.”

You might have been looking anywhere but at him, but you didn’t miss the small wave he gave you as he walked away, and you definitely felt the heat that rose in your cheeks.

Poe was quickly forgotten as a swarm of ten-year-olds rushed the stand and the incessant clanging of misthrown rings once again took over all your waking moments. You didn’t think about him for the rest of your shift. All you could think about was how tired you were, how hot the day had been, how much you wanted to shower and sleep and pretend you didn’t have to do this again tomorrow and--

Your feet ground to halt in the employee parking lot and approached your beloved car, the entire reason you had this forsaken job in the first place. Your car, which, you would have serious questions had you not known exactly where the thing came from, had a giant purple teddy bear sitting on the hood.

As you got closer, you could see something sticking out from beneath the bow tied around its neck. It was a slip of paper, with a phone number scrawled on it. And a little “P.” with a heart.

What was even happening right now.

Before you knew it, your phone was out of your purse and you were calling his number. Sure, you might have had to dial it four times because your nervous fingers kept pressing the wrong digits, but who was counting? And never mind that it was almost midnight. It was summer, he’d still be awake, right?

Finally you got it right, and the call picked up on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you breathed.

“Hey,” you could picture the trademark Dameron grin behind it. And he sounded...relieved? “I’m really glad you called.”

“How did you get into the employee parking lot?”

“I didn’t. I asked Rey for a favor. I figured she might know which car was yours. Told you she’s cool like that.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess she really is.”

“So I do have a really important question for you. Well, two actually.”

“I’m listening,” you said. It was hard to hear anything over how hard your heart was thumping in your ears, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Question one. Can I take you out on a date?”

“Yeah,” you said again and closed your eyes, partly out of a need to center yourself and mostly out of sheer embarrassment. Maybe one day, you would remember how to speak to Poe Dameron in multiple word sentences, but right at this moment was not that time. Oh well.

“Awesome,” he breathed out. “I was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Yes.” Thankfully he didn’t seem to be deterred by your current lack of language skills.

Poe laughed warmly. “Now, second question. Did it work?”

This time you couldn’t even come up with a verbal response. You just erupted in a bout of giggles, Poe Dameron laughing along with you. And somehow, you got that ridiculous monstrosity of a teddy bear into your back seat.

The somehows kept coming. Somehow you remembered how to use words. Somehow it was well after midnight now without either of you giving it permission to get that late. Somehow your phone refused to end the call. Somehow the hours were slipping by until you had to be at the park for an early opening shift in the morning, and somehow you suddenly didn’t care at all about getting any sleep.

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad, after all.

~end~

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roonilwazlibimagines · 4 years ago

Note

hi im reg anon to elaborate that reg was in a relationship with an innocent muggleborn and he felt as if he was better than ber (internalized blood purity) and he slowly falls in love with her

Ok I will give you a few ideas about my plan if I were to make this into a series or just something a bit longer - also didn’t realise how long this would be,,, oops

I feel like the reader would either have to be in ravenclaw or hufflepuff - but that isn’t something that really matters

And maybe they’re paired up to do an assignment together in like their sixth year - which is also the year that he got the dark mark

And you’re just trying to make conversation with him, but he keeps just giving you nods or just not replying because he knows you are a muggleborn and is kinda upset that he has to be paired with you

But you just keep talking to him - just innocently trying to make small talk

And maybe you even talk to him outside of class and he is literally just in shock because he really doesn’t understand why he thinks you’re worthy to talk to him

And maybe it is in front of all the other Slytherins who are sniggering and he tells you to go away and probably calls you a mudblood and you’re just kinda in shock because you had been so nice to him and this was how he spoke to you?

So then the next lesson when you are working on your assignment you’ve barely said a word to him and for some reason that really annoys him and he asks if you’re really not going to speak to him and you just look at him and he rolls his eyes

And the following lessons are the same but Regulus doesn’t really try to make anything better because he has better thoughts than his muggleborn potions partner

But sometimes he has to talk to you and he doesn’t know why but there is a weird feeling in his tummy whenever he talks to you and you just look up at him with the saddest eyes and their is faint pout forming on your lips

And then maybe because they have been like this it is making it hard for them to do their assignment so they have to meet up outside of class and they go to the library and she is still not talking to him - and neither is really him to her, but Regulus always gets good marks and he isn’t going to let a stupid muggleborn stop this

So he kinda has a little rant to you about it and says that you have just got to get over it because it is both of your grades and he isn’t going to fail because of you

But this only makes you more upset and you’re trying to act like everything is fine but Regulus can hear the little quiver in your voice and you’re still hunched in your chair

And then if we want smut,, this would be when he grabs your face in his hands and (if we want mean dom Regulus he would say you were pathetic lowkey) if it was soft dom Regulus he would tell you that he has a way to make you feel better

And you’re just in shock because he hates you and he isn’t really sure why he wants to do it but maybe it is just because he is really tired and the lightings really low and he kinda just wants to let out his anger at the whole situation because he hates that he feels this way because he is a death eater

But if this was smut, it would literally just be him torturing you because even though he was proud to be a death eater he still wasn’t going to go showing you his dark mark, mainly because he didn’t want you to tell others but also because he thought it would upset you,,, because apparently it was easy for him to upset you

And if this was smut it would be very rough and Regulus would just be mocking you and overstimulating you

If it wasn’t then he would just kinda apologise to you

But anyways, the next lesson it was surprisingly the most awkward it had been because he neither of you really knew what to say to each other

And he would tell you to meet him in the Room of Requirement that night

He would go on another rant about how you are just a stupid muggleborn and he really doesn’t know why he finds you so interesting but he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you and if it was smut he would fuck you but if it wasn’t you would just talk

But either way there were a lot of angry vibes coming from him because he really hated how weak you made him

And you two would keep meeting up but he would act like you didn’t exist whenever he saw you, especially now that the project was over

And you really didn’t know what was going to happen with him but he kept asking to meet up with you and (I’m thinking that this works best if it is smut) each time it was basically like a hate fuck but like he was really good at it and you knew that you probably deserved better but no one had ever fucked you like he had and you were more than happy to keep going back to him

But he would always make sure that his dark mark was covered

And then there would be a chapter about you finding out that he was a dark mark,, it was probably during sexy time and by accident and this would be the point where you have a big fight and you’re crying and Regulus is actually showing some other emotion besides anger and hatred and he is holding onto your arm and begging you to stay but you don’t

And he keeps making eye contact with you but you keep looking away because you’re actually kinda scared now because you know death eaters are killing muggle borns

And he would probably send you letters (because I feel like the Blacks are very old school and love old romance) and little gifts and you would receive them every morning but you would just throw them out and if you weren’t afraid to look at him you would see his face fall every time you did so

But anyways, one day he would literally pull you into an empty classroom and you’re freaking out because who knows what he is going to do to you he is trying to calm you down and tell you that he isn’t going to hurt you and you’re kinda just frozen on the spot

But he has another little rant at you about how he realises now that he kinda actually liked spending time with you and you don’t believe a word he is saying and you’re also trying to tell him that he just liked you for the sex but he swears that it isn’t and he gets all dramatic about it and is like I would literally take veritaserum to prove this to you

So you start to believe him but then he is like okay cool but we can’t tell anyone

And that makes you really upset because what is the point of taking things further with someone if they’re embarrassed to be seen with you

And to make things dramatic you probably storm off again but Regulus really can’t be public with you because they would probably kill you

Maybe we could add a scene where you are talking to Sirius and he gets really fucking jealous

But he is literally plagued by the thought of you which is a real issue because during the break between sixth and seventh year he is obviously working with Voldemort and the rest of the death eaters who all love occlumency and is desperately reading up on how to stop it so they don’t know you’re thinking of you

And then maybe someone - like Snape or something - idk like maybe they’re practising because they were probably like at least acquaintances considering they were both death eaters

And Snape is really good at it and of course he sees you and he knows who you are and he warns Regulus that he can’t be seen with you otherwise both of you will probably die and Regulus gets really defensive and probably says that you were just a good fuck to him or something

But then he regrets it immediately and he is sending letters to you but you don’t reply to him

So anyways now you are in your last year and it seems you and Regulus are always near each other and you keep trying not to look at each other

But you both really miss each other and this time it is you who breaks and sends him a letter and you meet up at the room of requirement but neither of you really know what to say so you just have sex but this time it isn’t as rough

And afterwards Regulus is asking if you got his letters and you say you did and he asks why you didn’t reply and you don’t really know where you’re getting this confidence from but you’re telling him that you didn’t want to and leaving it at that because you don’t owe him an explanation

And there is an underlying understanding that you both won’t work out together, but you guys keep meeting to fuck

And you would have a lot of heart to hearts, like he would tell you about his family and how he became a death eater and everything

And maybe just for dramas sake there is a moment where some of his Slytherin friends are like threatening you because you’re a muggleborn and then he comes over and he is about to help them but then he realises it is you and freezes and he says that you’re not worth their time and your heart is literally about to explode because it isn’t fair that this is your situation

But after that you’re never the one to initiate anything because it is probably better that you distance yourself from him because there is literally a war about to happen and you’re both on opposing sides

And fucking him just isn’t the same anymore but there isn’t much longer until the year finishes and you don’t really know what’s going to happen when school finishes so you just let whatever happens happens

But then like a few weeks before school finishes Regulus is asking to meet you but this time it is just to talk about what will happen and you decide that you’re going to call it off because it really won’t work

But he gets really angry at that and you end up having a massive fight and you’re both seething but it really settles the matter and for those last few weeks of school you both are just glaring and sneering at the other

But we aren’t finished,,, because then one day you’re just like chilling and suddenly Regulus has apparated to your house and you’re so confused and mean Regulus would make a comeback and he has just finished a death eater meeting (because I have a request for this specific scenario and it would just fit so well) and you’re literally brought back to the time where he first fucked you and he was really rough

But then he kinda just gets ready to go straight away and you get angry because you’re like you can’t just come here to fuck me and then leave and he sorta just replies watch me and apparates

And you’re so angry,,, but then like a week later he apparates back again and you’re yelling at him and telling him if he thinks he is just going to be able to use you then he is pathetic but he is telling you to shut up because he has news

And he is telling you that he found out how to defeat Voldemort and you really don’t believe him at first but then he tells you what happened and suddenly all your anger is vanished because all you can think of is that you might finally get the chance to be with him, properly

So you’re encouraging him and you guys probably fuck as a celebration and then there is a really sweet goodbye

And it would end with you finding out that he died and literally being so heartbroken

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