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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

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✎ rivals... in love?

- gojo satoru x reader

gojo is in shambles—so suguru might have a crush on you too?

genre: high school!gojo being a menace but pls spare him he just can't take losing, you see... crack, totally jealous!gojo, justice for geto, enemies to lovers, fluff

note: people have been asking for this so this is up next! i'm writing this while listening to bigbang's bang bang bang and fantastic baby so if gojo is a bit unhinged... you know why

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

No way. There is just no way.

Satoru felt his eyes itch and twitch uncomfortably. Despite the opaque black tint of his sunglasses, he could still distinctly see you happily giggling.

“Geto-san, that’s so funny!”

With Suguru. His ride or die. Your massive crush.

Your crisp laughter rang in his ears, scorching his ego and igniting it in flames—that was precisely the reaction he had hoped to receive from you too!

"Aren't they just cute?" Yaga was suddenly beside him with a wistful smile, looking at you and his other student a few feet away. "What do the television say again... a perfect match? In this case, a perfect match made in jujutsu school, then."

And responding to your bubbly self, creating the very picture of perfect match made in jujutsu school indeed, Suguru was every bit as enthusiastic. “Nah, wait until you see this—”

"Perfect match my ass," Satoru grumbled outwardly, rolling his eyes, but he immediately dashed away before his teacher could bonk him in the head for cussing.

It was harmless conversation, or jokes, or whatever. Because Suguru couldn't possibly reciprocate your feelings. His type is women of gravure magazines—Satoru had deemed it as such.

…Right?

At this point, he wasn't in enough denial to say that he didn't like you, because he had made it so clear that he was, in fact, obsessed. He wasn’t shying away from the things he did, which included annoying you constantly, asking you out after school, helping you in missions, and sending you few pick up lines here and there.

And he thought he was certain he could whisk you off your feet. After all, who else could measure up to him and win?

Heh, no one.

(or basically that's just him ignoring the intrusive little voice in his mind that whispered, “Suguru!”)

“So what's with the nice act, huh?” Satoru blew his bangs in a huff as he questioned his best friend with a twinge of dissatisfaction. “Do you like her or something?”

Suguru quirked his eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. I have noticed how you two have been joined at the hip lately,” and with deliberate intention to spite his best friend, he made the sourest face as he mockingly recited, “Wait till you see this~”

Instantly realizing what he meant, Suguru burst into a loud snicker. “Come on, Satoru, really? Surely you aren't that petty. We were just chatting—”

“Not that. I know. What I'm asking now is that do you like her or not?”

It wasn't a rare sight to see Satoru with a pout and a frown, and usually he'd humor him. But this time, even Suguru could see that there was something different in the way he asked this. And should he say something that irked him then—

“Heh, so what if I am?”

That's the wrong answer.

Satoru halted abruptly, whipping his head around in sheer shock. "What the heck?"

“She’s a nice junior, kind, easy on the eyes,” Suguru shrugged, flashing him a dauntless smile. “Only a fool would let the chance pass up. Satoru, if you keep dawdling, one of these days, I just might—”

“Wha—hey!? That’s totally foul—!”

“Nah, they do say all is fair in love and war now, isn’t it?”

By a mind-boggling twist of events, apparently his best friend was also a guy after his dream girl. Satoru was irked, challenged, and he would never admit it, but a tiny part of him recoiled because Suguru clearly had an early start and a boost—you favored him first.

This was unexpected, and now he was conjuring up various scenarios of what he should do. He must act fast or else...

Little did he know that Suguru was thoroughly relishing his restlessness.

Everyone around you said that your relationship with Gojo Satoru... is intriguing to say the least. And especially ever since that one botched mission you two went, you also felt there was a shift in your dynamics.

And if by intriguing they mean him constantly blocking your way and invading your space, then yes, it definitely is.

"Okay, okay, but wait, just hear me out!"

You halted your steps and faced him with an annoyed frown. You really had no time for this. You were about to be sent on a mission. "Gojo, really, can't you just—"

"Okay, I know he's dashing, or whatever," he huffed, the last word he said with a hint of disdain. "But hear me out, and I'm sure you'll reconsider."

"Who are you talki—"

"Who else!? Suguru, of course!"

You couldn't possibly arch your eyebrow even higher, and before you could say anything, he somehow took it as his cue to keep going.

“First, he eats curses. Cursed spirits! He eats them like rice balls! Can you imagine just how foul the taste is?”

"Gojo, I don't have the time—"

"Then! Going from that, just imagine kissing him," he stressed, eyeing you intensely as your own eyes felt like popping out by the sheer suggestion. "What if you taste the cursed spirits rice ball?"

"You're unbeliev—"

"Wait! Can you even kiss him? What if his cursed spirits suddenly pop out of him? Are you willing to kiss his little friends—"

"He's your best friend!" you finally interjected, obviously and utterly in shock by his unhinged rambling. "How could you say all of that?"

"No, you're getting me wrong." Satoru's clicked his tongue. "I'm just listing facts why it's better for you not to end up with him."

You barked a dry laugh. "And? Better with you, you mean? That's awfully biased."

"Why yes of course! Self-promo is never bad," he blatantly retorted. "Let me just tell you aallll you need to know about me!"

He audibly cracked his knuckles and puffed out his chest. "You know already, I'm strong. I can protect you well. My cursed technique doesn't involve eating curses, so you don't have to worry about tasting the said curses on my lips."

How could he blurt all of this with that perpetually playful expression? A chuckle escaped you unwittingly and that only spurred him to go on.

"And I'm handsome!" he boldly claimed, pointing at his face with pride. "And obviously I don't need to say this, but I'm filthy rich—"

At that, you burst into hearty laughter, unable to hold it in any longer.

Satoru's eyes sparkled, lit as if someone had just made his day. "All in all, you know what I mean. Everything with me, all of it is going to be fantastic!"

Even you couldn't deny that all of this exchange had been so amusing. Hilariously so. "You're down bad, huh?" you tried to taunt, although it seemed like a burst of snicker. Yet, you were caught off-guard when he said:

"For you?" his little smirk made your insides suddenly all jumbled up. "Yes."

Huh? What is this? Your bravado faltered a bit as your heart did a somersault inside.

It wasn't supposed to thump this hard. You weren't supposed to feel this overwhelming urge to squeal too. And your face wasn't supposed to grow this hot...

Seeing that, Satoru celebrated his little win, a wicked smile on his glistening lips—that somehow looked rather attractive to you now. "How? Thinking twice now, are we?"

But he couldn't believe that after all this, you would still cunningly retort with, "Ha! You wish, Gojo Satoru."

His stunned face was so comical that you chuckled once again. You wanted to rebuff him more, but before you could, Haibara's voice called you from a distance. "Heeey! Let's go! Or we're gonna be late!"

"I suppose that's my cue," you lightly shrugged, and before you left him in a dust, you could've sworn you saw a flicker of brewing tantrum behind those glasses, which brought a smirk on your face. "See ya, try harder, and I might look at your way."

Satoru was at his wit's end as he saw you sauntering away. What more that he could do so that you could be his? To keep your eyes on him and him only?

And yet, little did he know, in that beginning of summer in 2006, even before you realized it yourself, you had already did.

Epilogue

In another corner of the school, eagerly spying on you were...

"Wait! Can you even kiss him? What if his cursed spirits suddenly pop out of him? Are you willing to kiss his little friends—"

"Did he just..." Suguru gaped, utterly in disbelief at what his own best friend said of him. "Did he just say that?"

Shoko let out a satisfied guffaw. "Oh, he definitely did."

"I can't believe he's tarnishing my name over a girl."

"Well, you know very well he could do way worse than that just to get what he wants," she threw him a thin smile, while exhaling a puff of smoke. "And hey, you lose. You gotta pay me."

Suguru turned to her in surprise. "Huh? Oh—oh, darn it. Shoko, can't you be less stingy?"

"Well, whose bright idea was it to pull that stunt on him and bet on whether Gojo would approach her in less than a day?"

-> continue to extended cut !

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udontknowst4r · 2 months ago

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damn flo

content & warnings: intended lowercase, f!reader on her period, bf!matt (also soft!matt) x reader, fluff (?), nick names {baby & sweetheart}, jokes about suicide

the soft rain outside faintly hitting the ground really set the mood. you and matt were cuddling on your bed, watching girl, interrupted. you shift in matts arms, an uncomfortable feeling growing in your lower stomach. annoyed, you reach in the pocket of your sweatpants for your phone and go on the flo app. 2 days is plastered in the circle, telling you that your period is predicted to start then. you shove your phone back in your pocket and attempt focus on the movie. "lisa is so me, i'm so lisa." you explain while getting comfortable in matts arms again.

he looks down at you with a concerned expression, "that's not a good thing, baby. you okay?" he then proceeds to rub tiny circles on your shoulder.

"yes, i'm okay matt. but i do have to take a fat piss, so i'll be right back!" you giggle as you get up from the bed. matt watches you strut to the bathroom.

"shit" is the only word you can form once you pull down your sweats. "are you fucking kidding me?" you let yourself pee, then stick toilet paper in between your legs after wiping a few times. while looking for a pad, you remember you need a new pair of underwear and roll your eyes. "matt! can you come here? ... like, today?" you couldn't feel bad for being a tiny bit of an ass when there were more important matters.

the door lightly opens, "what's wrong baby?" matts question is answered as soon as he sees you in front of the sink, scrubbing your underwear. "i'll go get you a new pair." he's practically already out the door before he can even finish his sentence.

a few moments later, matt is back with one of the pair of undies that he knows you use when you're on your period, and some pajama pants. he hands them to you, "here. do you need anything else?"

"a gun."

"not funny or appropriate. i'll be in the kitchen putting a heating pad in the microwave." he leaves the bathroom in a dash.

you're sat on the bed, holding your lower stomach down with a heating pad, miserable. you look to matt, who's already looking at you with empathy, "can we just cuddle? this stupid heating pad isn't working." you ask.

he smiles, "of course," he opens his arms to you after turning the tv off. "i'm pretty tired, so can we just fall asleep?"

you put yourself in his embrace, immediately melting into the hug, "i'm perfectly fine with that. anything to stop the cramps." you're frustrated that your movie marathon day was ruined. "damn flo."

"what did you say, sweetheart?" matt thought he heard you wrong, not knowing what a 'flo' is.

"nothing, let's just sleep."

and after a few minutes of getting comfortable and talking about random things, you drifted off to sleep. matt plants a kiss on your forehead before dozing off into his own dreamland.

a/n: so i actually got my period today when flo said i was supposed to get it in 2 days ! so that inspired me to write this, and i'm thankful bc i didn't know wtf i wanted to write next. also this is so rushed so my apologies if it's bad w/c: 497 please do not copy or translate my work without asking! ©udontknowst4r

dividers from @strangergraphics <3

#udontknowst4r #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #bf!matt #soft!matt #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #star was here !

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hard-core-super-star · 6 months ago

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brought you together so nice [W.Maximoff + N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!natasha romanoff x sub!reader x switch!wanda maximoff

summary: natasha takes care of you until wanda comes back. needless to say, the witch is more than happy about the arrangement you both came up with in her absence.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NO INTERACT -> porn with very little plot but even more feelings; mommy + daddy kink; slightly more established dom/dub dynamics; a dash of pet play (as usual); bondage; gagging; soft domme nat + bratty wanda!!!!; vibrator use [R receiving]; praise + degradation + a dash of humiliation; hair pulling; spanking; aftercare

wordcount: 4.1k

a/n: well, well, well...guess who got too attached to another series? yup, me 😅 these two have taken up more of my mind than i originally thought so here is part three of this little series. i don't have a plan to make another full part, but i might mess around and write a few blurbs here and there. we'll see what happens. anyway, thank you for all your support, especially regarding this little series. i'm thinking of opening my requests back up until the start of the new year so keep an eye out for that ;) [commissions are still more than welcome, though!] okay, i'll stop rambling for now, hope you enjoy <3

[part one | part two]

* * * * * * *

Natasha could be sweet when she wanted to.

That was the first thing you learned after agreeing to become her and Wanda's submissive.

The rules and details weren't too clear yet, the redhead promising to answer all your questions as soon as the Sokovian came back from her mission. Still, she did what she could to fill in the gaps of your knowledge, allowing you to ask her as many questions as you pleased before showing you, in great detail, what she meant.

Despite the cold exterior you'd learned to love, she was much softer with you than you'd ever imagined. Sure, she was still a mean domme at heart, but she wanted to show you heights of pleasure you'd never experienced before.

And she went to great lengths to guarantee it.

It quickly became clear to you how much she loved impact play. Even outside of play sessions, she would always come up behind you, landing a hard smack to your ass before pulling you into her arms. You didn't mind, even when she did it in front of the others.

(Although Tony did whistle at you guys once and promptly earned himself a punch to the stomach. He laughed it off but made sure to never tease the Widow about her behavior with you again.)

You knew there were a lot of things you didn't know or fully understand, but Natasha always seemed to find a way to make you feel more excited than nervous about it. It was almost funny how quickly her personality changed once she allowed you to see past her walls.

Sure, she was still a little mean and more than a little snarky (which is exactly how you liked her, if you were being honest) yet there was a softer, affectionate, side that started coming out more and more.

She told you it was simply because Wanda wasn't around and she wasn't allowed to "break you in" without her around. Maybe it was a silly excuse perfectly crafted to keep you on your toes, but you didn't really mind.

Well, except because you really missed Wanda.

Being without the witch was harder than you thought it would be, but the Widow kept you busy enough to forget the empty spot beside you in their bed.

Your bed.

That was the second thing Natasha made you learn.

Yes, you were technically an addition to their relationship, but you weren't an outsider. You never were.

That was the third thing you learned.

Both Natasha and Wanda had their eyes on you from the very beginning. They loved each other, and their relationship made them happier than they could put into words, and yet they always felt something was missing. A third energy to keep them in check. To stop them from getting too rough, too mean with each other. To help remember how to be soft after spending so much time fighting with the world.

It was...strange, but you couldn't deny what they meant to you. The attraction you felt toward them had always been there and after Wanda opened that door...well, let's just say there was no going back.

You didn't understand how real that was until now.

Because somehow, someway, after carrying guilt you didn't even need to have in the first place, you were here.

You were theirs.

You were waking up in their bed with Natasha's arms wrapped tight around your waist.

A shudder ran down your body as the redhead's lips met your bare shoulder, peppering kisses across the skin. "Morning, detka. Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you reply as a smile forms on your face. "You're a fantastic cuddler."

"Shut up," she mumbles. There's a clear lack of annoyance in her words despite her attempts at sounding tough. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your grip on me begs to differ."

At your response, her hands move to grip your waist, her nails digging into your soft skin. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching almost instantly. You can feel the redhead smiling against your skin. It hasn't been that long and she already knows your body better than you do.

"Sorry, were you saying something?" She says, taking advantage of your reactions to grind against your ass. "You seem a little distracted."

It's a bit of a cruel game but it's one she loves to play with you. Truth be told, she loves playing with you, period. You're so different from Wanda, so much more responsive, more honest about your constant neediness.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you mumble, not so subtly grinding back against her.

Just because you were slowly learning the rules regarding your place didn't mean you didn't love pushing Natasha's buttons whenever you could. Which really only happened in the mornings and during aftercare. Those were the only two moments when the older woman allowed herself to be soft with you, to let you see behind the walls she'd expertly put up to keep everyone out. Everyone except you and Wanda, it seems.

Her voice remains low, straddling the border between a tease and a warning. "Is my good girl trying to be a brat?"

Your heart skips a beat at her words. At the mention of being her good girl. Of being hers.

After the rough beginning your relationship had, you never thought you'd be let into her heart in any way. And yet here you are. You're her good girl, her kitten, her darling submissive.

"No..." You trail off, trying to decide whether to behave or push her buttons a little more. Ultimately, your desire to be a little shit wins out. "...Daddy."

Natasha chuckles behind you, her hands moving from your hips and toward your breasts. She gives them a soft squeeze as her thumbs tease your hardening nipples. "Oh, kotenok, you woke up cheeky this morning, huh? You know what mouthing off like that will earn you, right?"

You do know. She's told you many, many times before, usually while she's praising you for being so good for her and drawing out orgasm after orgasm from your overstimulated body.

However, she's never actually acted out any of her warnings. It's a good thing, you know that, and yet you can't stop yourself from wanting to see what it will feel like. To explore what that kind of submission will do to you.

"Yes, Daddy. I know."

She hums before going right back to kissing across your shoulders, nipping at your skin just to get you to arch into her teasing hands. "I see...you want to be punished, don't you? Want Daddy to remind you of your place until there's nothing else inside your mind?"

You're about to reply when you're interrupted by F.R.I.D.A.Y. "Miss Romanoff, Miss Maximoff has asked me to notify you of her return."

Your cheeks flush, even though the disembodied voice can't see what exactly you're up to this morning. At the very least, F.R.I.D.A.Y. is a lot less nosy than Jarvis ever was. Although, if you're being honest, you liked him better before he turned into a robot.

"I'm assuming she'll be at the Medbay for a while?" The Widow replies, her mind no doubt full of the things she'll do to you to pass the time.

"Yes, it seems she'll be there for the next half hour."

"Good. Thank you, Friday."

The AI doesn't reply and you can practically imagine her making a swift exit out of the room, leaving you to face whatever it is that the redhead has come up with.

"y/n..." Natasha purrs, her breath hot against your ear. "I have an idea. Why don't we give Mommy a nice surprise, hmm? Don't you want to be her pretty welcome back gift?"

You're not sure what being Wanda's "welcome back gift" will entail, but you can't deny your curiosity about it. Especially since the witch has no idea what you and her girlfriend have been up to. You have no doubt she has her suspicions, she is a mind reader after all, but it'll still be nice to surprise her.

You agree before you even know what you're doing, and Natasha wastes no time in springing into action.

In a matter of minutes, you go from lying comfortably under the covers to being spread out on your back, your limbs tied to each corner of the bed. You're exposed, vulnerable, and you love every second of it.

Of course, Natasha isn't satisfied with that. No, to top off the pretty sight you make, she places a deep, dark red ball gag between your lips. You shouldn't be surprised since, after all, you did ask for it.

"There we go," the redhead hums appreciatively, her eyes taking in the beautiful sight. "Now, just sit tight, okay, detka? I'll be right back."

You whine instantly, but she pays no mind to you, quickly making her way out of the bedroom and going to look for Wanda. You're not exactly happy about being left alone yet, there's nothing you can do. All you can do is throw your head back in frustration and wait for your lovers to return.

You're not sure how much time goes by, although there's no doubt in your mind that Natasha does her best to draw out their return just to mess with you, but eventually, they make their way back to you.

The sound of the door opening makes you practically vibrate with excitement, your hips wiggling from side to side without thinking.

"Well, would you look at that," Wanda says as she steps further into the room. "Looks like someone was having fun without me."

Natasha follows her in, standing behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist. There's something so domestic about the action that makes your heart clench.

"I had to get her ready for you, darling," the redhead replies as her chin finds the other woman's shoulder. "She looks good, doesn't she?"

"She sure does. I take it you worked out your issues?"

"We came to an...agreement, yes. I couldn't let you have all the fun."

Wanda chuckles, the corners of her mouth quirking up into a fond smile. There's no mistaking the fire in her eyes, though, the desire simmering below the surface. "And you said I was crazy for wanting her to join us."

The Widow grumbles, clearly not quite ready to admit her girlfriend was right. "You're still not off the hook, you let her believe you cheated on me."

"When are you going to let that go?"

"I'm not sure, maybe you should make it up to me."

Natasha's eyes remain on you but Wanda turns around, silencing her girlfriend's complaints with a fiery kiss. All you can do is watch, feeling left out and far too involved at the same time. You're slowly getting used to their competitive antics.

Their kisses turn desperate in nothing short of a few seconds, leaving you far too desperate and needy while you squirm around on the bed. They take their sweet time getting back to you, though, instead letting their hands wander over each other's bodies.

You'd love to complain but you're still gagged so talking is pretty much impossible. More than that...you can't say you're not loving the view. It makes you feel a little dirty, like you're watching an intimate scene you shouldn't be, and it brings a rush unlike anything you've ever felt before.

They know, because of course they know, and your obvious arousal only motivates them to tease you.

Natasha moves first, expert hands reaching for the hem of Wanda's shirt and lifting it over her head in an instant. "I missed you."

"Are you talking to me or my boobs?" The witch replies with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

"I'm talking to all of you."

"Nice save, 'Tasha."

"Shut up."

There's something comforting about the scene in front of you, even as your frustration builds. You've been with them before, but it's different this time. You can feel the change in energy, the easy chemistry that flows between all of you now that Natasha isn't trying to push you away.

"Come on, I think we've teased our good girl long enough," Wanda says, taking the redhead's hand and leading her toward the bed. "Isn't that right, sweetheart? You're feeling a little frustrated, hmm?"

You nod desperately in response, tugging at the rope that holds you down. Your actions only make both of your lovers chuckle.

"Look at her, she's drenched and we haven't gotten started yet," Natasha comments, her eyes trailing up and down your body like a predator assessing its prey.

"I'm guessing this means training's going well."

"She's a quick learner. A bit bratty sometimes, though."

The way they talk about you as if you're not a part of the conversation has you clenching around pure air. It doesn't help that the Widow is so accurate in her assessment of you. You love being submissive, being under their control, but you can't deny how much fun it is to disobey. To push against the boundaries she's set for you, not to defy her but to tease her. Maybe even test her a little.

It's far too fun.

"Is that right, sweetheart?" Wanda asks, even though your body language makes it clear how correct Natasha is. "I thought you liked being our good girl. Because if you don't, well...you know what happens to naughty girls, don't you?"

Of course you know. It was one of the first things the redhead taught you. Sure, the rules and terms weren't too fleshed out yet since Natasha had wanted her girlfriend to be a part of the whole exchange, but she'd gone over most things with you. Rewards, punishments, hard limits, all that stuff.

You're unable to tell the witch that, though, thanks to the gag in your mouth. Your incoherent mumbles seem to entertain her for a few seconds while Natasha sneaks off toward their closet.

Wanda's chuckle cuts through the air. Your attempts at convincing her you've been good clearly amuse her. "I know, baby, I know you like being good. Otherwise, Nat wouldn't be so attached to you."

"I'm not attached," the redhead grumbles.

A month ago, her words would have made your heart drop into your stomach. Now, though, you know she's only playing a part. She has no problem telling you how she feels outside of a scene, but when you're playing, when you're being their pet, she's right back to being mean. Right back to degrading you and humiliating you until you're riding the edge of pleasure and pain.

"Keep telling yourself that, darling."

"Oh, I will."

Their banter is borderline comforting. You've loved spending time with Natasha, but this, being with them and seeing their personalities come together, this is where you thrive.

Well, it's not like you're doing much. Then again, they like you most when you're like this. Vulnerable, at their mercy, and so obviously loving every second of it.

Wanda climbs onto bed with you, crawling over your body until she's hovering over you with a gentle smile that steals all your worries away. "'Tasha's such a liar, isn't she, sweetheart? It's okay, let her act like she's the big bad."

You want to laugh, but it's a little hard when she's leaning down to pepper kisses all over your face. The action is far softer than what you were expecting and it makes your heart soar.

You were ready for a rougher training session, for a trial run meant to show you what you had been missing in the witch's absence. But this? This is really good too.

Wanda continues her loving assault on your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw and toward your neck. You tilt your head back in response, earning a soft giggle muffled against your skin, as she kisses and nibbles all up and down your throat. There's no doubt in your mind that she's littering your skin with hickies and noticeable marks, but you find you really don't mind it.

The witch steals your attention long enough for Natasha to gather a few supplies before making her way over to you. You feel her set a few things down next to you, but you don't get to see what they are. Not that you really mind considering how busy your mind is.

"Stop hogging her attention, that's not very fair."

"It's not my fault you left her so fuzzy-headed. Poor girl didn't even stand a chance, huh?"

You shake your head, a few muffled whines making their way out of you.

Natasha chuckles as she shifts onto her knees next to you. Her hands find their way between you and Wanda's bodies, teasing your skin as she explores the territory she's spent the past few days claiming.

"Oh, please. This is nothing. You should've seen the state she was in last night."

The reminder makes you squirm in your restraints, trying to get closer to them to no avail. You know how desperate you look, how absolutely needy you are, but you can't find it in yourself to care. This is what you had been waiting for. To be completely theirs. To surrender to them and accept everything they were willing to give you. Sure, it was intimidating and yet it felt incredibly right.

"Are you trying to make me jealous?" Wanda responds, working her way down your body, expertly avoiding the areas where her girlfriend is touching you.

"You deserve it. Wasn't this your fantasy?"

"Maybe. It was hers first, though. Isn't that right, detka?"

The change in topic makes you blush. It shouldn't be surprising to hear that the witch had already known about your feelings for her but it's still a little embarrassing. At least she seems to enjoy it.

You nod, your movements slightly frantic and no doubt fueled by the feeling of her lips on your flushed skin. She takes her time dragging her lips up and down your inner thighs as Natasha teases your hardening nipples.

"Such a good little slut. I bet you're already so fuzzy. Just want your cunt played with and nothing else." The redhead distracts you with her words, leaving you completely unprepared for Wanda's continued assault.

You don't hear the thrumming sound of the vibrator coming to life, but you sure feel it against your sensitive clit. Your whole body shudders in response as your hips buck in a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming sensation.

Your reaction makes the witch laugh and she leans down to press a few more kisses to your thighs. "There you go, that's what I like to see."

Her words feel more like humiliation than praise and yet you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when it feels so good that it borders on painful.

"Excuse you, we were having a little chat." Natasha's tease is coupled with a firm grip in your hair as she tilts your head toward her. "I'll have to train you if you don't fix that attention span, pet."

"Be nice, Nat, it's not her fault she likes me more."

"God, you're such a brat, Maximoff." Her free hand leaves your body to land a sharp smack against Wanda's ass. "I'll put you in your place too, if I have to."

The witch hums in response, very clearly pushing herself back against the redhead's hand. "You know I'd enjoy it."

Natasha spanks her again and the sight has you bucking your hips faster as you search for more pleasure. You let out a string of whines, already feeling yourself on the edge of an orgasm. It's a little embarrassing how quickly you're reaching your limit but in your defense, you've been worked up ever since you woke up. You were bound to lose from the beginning.

"Don't tell me you want to cum already, sweetheart? We've barely gotten started."

You want to defend yourself, but your attempts are instant failures. Natasha seems to get off on how pathetic you sound, though.

"It's alright, kitten, why don't you go ahead and cum for me? Mommy hasn't earned her reward just yet."

Wanda opens her mouth to object but she doesn't get very far since the redhead goes right back to spanking her.

You're not used to seeing the witch in a slightly more submissive position. She always seem to straddle the border between being fully in control and immersed below Natasha's dominance. This change of pace is more than welcome, though.

The vibrator gets pushed harder against your sensitive clit and the pressure sends you over the edge almost instantly. You don't get a chance to warn them, all you can do is give in to the sudden pleasure as your body trembles beneath them.

They're both distracted by the sight of your orgasm crashing into you so suddenly. So beautifully.

"What a good girl," Natasha murmurs appreciatively. "You could learn a thing or two from her, Wands."

"Whatever." You miss the way the witch rolls her eyes since your eyes are more than a little blurry and there's a soft ringing in your ears. "It won't be my fault when she forgets her place, Daddy."

That earns her another spank, but she's too busy moving the vibrator away from your drenched cunt to care. You whine softly at the loss of contact even though you feel far too sensitive to take much more.

Apparently, you look as out of it as you feel because the older women take a few moments to let you catch your breath.

Wanda's hands gently stroke up and down your legs to keep you grounded while Natasha shifts closer, her hands reaching out to undo the ballgag. "How are you feeling, kotenok? Do you want to keep going?"

Your throat's a little dry, but you manage to form a reply. "I'm okay. Just need to catch my breath."

The Widow nods before reaching over to grab the bottled water on the nightstand. She helps you take a few sips of water while Wanda continues to caress your skin, both giving you as much time as you need to recover. It's such a small thing and yet it's a reminder of why you're so attached to them. Why you need them more and more with every day that goes by.

Your relationship with them might have had a bit of a rough start, but you couldn't imagine a better outcome. Couldn't imagine two better people to surrender your heart to.

"Someone's in a romantic mood," Wanda pipes up with a soft smile.

Her words cause an instant response in you and you feel your face grow warmer by the second. "Why are you in my mind right now?"

"Because your thoughts about me are so loud," she replies almost instantly. "Don't look so embarrassed, detka, I think it's cute."

"Shut up," you mumble, momentarily forgetting where you are and what you're in the middle of doing.

Wanda's smile turns slightly dark and her hand comes down against your thigh before you can even think about what you did wrong. "Where'd your manners go, huh?"

The sensation makes you shiver, but Natasha reaches a hand out to stop the witch from smacking your thigh again. "Time out, darling. I don't think we're quite ready to keep going."

You want to argue with her and yet you make no real effort to. As much as you might want to keep going, you can't deny how overwhelming it all was...and how desperate you are for some cuddles.

"Sorry," you mumble.

Wanda instantly shushes you as she uses her magic to undo the restraints keeping you tied down. "Nonsense, you have nothing to apologize for."

The second your limbs are free, Natasha's hands are on you again. This time, though, she merely maneuvers you onto your side so she's able to slide in behind you. The second her arms wrap around your waist, your shoulders let go of the tension they've been holding.

Wanda wastes no time in joining the two of you, laying down in front of you and reaching up to play with your hair. "Just relax, we have all day to pick up where we left off."

"Don't rush her, little witch."

Natasha's words make you chuckle and you lean forward until you're practically buried in the witch's chest. "I'm okay, guys. I don't break easily."

A beat of silence goes by as they allow you to soak in the afterglow, in the feeling of their embrace.

But the Widow really can't help herself.

"Are you sure? Maybe we should test that out."

Her words are a tease, but none of you can deny your curiosity...or your arousal.

Needless to say, you spend most of the day tangled up in their bed.

Your bed.

With the two women who mean the absolute world to you.

#wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #mommy wanda #avengers fanfiction #marvel fic #mcu imagine #wlw fic #writing

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13tinysocks · 23 days ago

Text

My Dead Girlfriend

He lied about being a superhero. You lied about not having freaky ass mind powers. You broke up- bitterly. End of story. No shot Invincible and some superpowered grunt for Machine Head would ever work out in any reality. Except. When he comes in droves, hoards of himself, brokenhearted and wanting, wrecking cities for a chance to get one last glance at you.

[Invincible Varients x Reader] [Ao3]

[long form, multi-arc, eventual smut, dark fic]

[6.7K, part one of ?] [2] Took a lot of liberties with this. Wanted the variants to be more distinct. Please excuse formatting issues, tumblr is actually ass. Header art is mine. Buckle up, I write like a bad girl with a hope for better days. TW: Lots of death, bad things, worse people.

1 * Buck Fifty

Where I think that we’re all gonna die, Just to get fucked in some parallel life, While a strange martian fungus sprouts, From our sexier parts. Canoeing on Mars - Go Hang Music

Semantics are a funny thing, really. You say, “Go jump off a bridge,” most people do just that. Jump. Here’s the not so fun part, some people, they go, “Well, what bridge?” And it’s a back and forth, you pushing, them pulling until you find that magic sweet spot in their logic and they finally jump. So because you were chatting with this asshole for the better part of ten minutes, people run to you asking questions. “Did you know him? Is he okay?” Clearly, he wasn’t. The guy’s brains were dashed on a rock, blood following the runoff stream, too shallow to break the fall. Your attention slides off the body. To the couple that pulled over the second he went over the ledge. Early thirties. Medium-ugly man, pretty girl with her hand on her swollen belly. Engagement rings glinting under the spring sun. “Get back in your car.” Power rolls off your tongue. Thick, heavy, and sour. “And drive away.” Concern leeches out of their eyes. Glazing over the moment the words meet their ears. The woman gets in first, shutting the passenger and sliding a seatbelt over herself. The man steps around the car, into steady traffic flowing carefully away from their car. He’s nearly clipped by the side mirror of a sedan that blares it’s horn. Swerving away, scraping the opposite side of the bridge’s barrier. He gets into the car. Unblinking as car after car rams into the sedan. A pileup in the making but he looks nowhere but straight ahead. The couple’s car, a buggy, pulls off the narrow shoulder. Catching a pickup in the side, sending it careening into the sedan’s front. You watch the sedan driver pop like a pimple and the buggy drive off.

You look back down, to the target, the only one supposed to get hurt here. He’s dead alright. Job’s done. Collateral doesn’t matter, not here anyway. Pileups happen all the time for no good reason at all. Still, you tug up your hood and make your way down the side catwalk of the bridge. Going the opposite direction of the pileup. Smoke thick in your nose. Air displaces, a woosh overhead. You’re at the bridge’s end, at the corner of Park and Main when the spandex clad cavalry arrives. You know that pink glow anywhere. Atom Eve sprung into action. Resetting metal, fixing tires. You make yourself watch her, not the blue-black blur that’s scooping civilians out of cars to safety. You catch a look at him anyway. Still at last, because the job was done that quick. Your gut tightens, brows press together, a sour lemon frown on your lips. He’s smiling at her as they talk about money. The city of New York a brand spanking new client of Invincible Co. Payday for them. You too. So stop being such a dill, and get a move on. You turn before Mark can see your face. He wouldn’t think of you as the culprit. A long ago thing of the past, pre-powers. Good, it’s better if you’re not on his shit list. The best if he had no idea you were still rolling with Machine Head. He’d seen you in his superhero skin at Machine Head’s side. God, how that ended. No longer seventeen. No longer needing desperate money for college. No longer innocent or wanted. When they start asking questions to bystanders, you’re already halfway down Main. You walk fast, you’re late. Twenty minutes out from the tower on foot without a car when the meeting was in five fucking minutes. Wasn’t your fault the guy had to be persuaded to kill himself.

Machine Head wouldn’t see it that way. You caught somebody by the arm. Alone, in nice enough clothes. They turn, lip curling, about to yank their arm away. “Give me your wallet.” You say low.

Fear doesn't breach their eyes. They simply pluck the leather bound thing from their jeans, detach it from a chain, and hand the whole thing over. You hold a thumb out until a taxi pulls up. You didn’t have to pay. With powers like these, you could’ve done anything. You could be living large. Countless pretty things on your arm, willing to do anything at your say so. But you’re here. In debt. A criminal. Because you don’t know where to go or what else to do or what else you’re good for. They’d find you anyway, you could tell them to go and forget you existed but somehow, through mental gymnastics, you told yourself they’d come back. Kill you for trying to leave. You pay the taxi fair out of courtesy because you once worked a shitty customer service job. You’re a killer, not evil. Consider it a good deed for the day. You run through the double glass doors. Careful not the leave prints on the glass. Machine Head was very particular. An evil megalomaniac, but particular. You know you’re late by the time you push open the Italian maple doors. He’s standing, ramrod straight, back to you, machine eyes (cameras you supposed?) scanning the city. His city. For a time it wasn’t. He was usurped, locked in the same jail house as you. You thought that your difference in sex would keep him away from you. But no, you were still working for him in the slammer to keep your back shank-free. He got out, took The Order by the throat, and now you were out too and- “Fifty-three seconds. You made me wait fifty-three seconds. Do you know how much money I could’ve been making in those fifty-three seconds, (Y/n)?” He turned to you. Suit crisp. Metal shining. You feel drastically under dressed in your sweats and hoodie. Lightly stained from cheap takeout. But you wouldn’t change it, it was practically the uniform of the average New York streetwalker. Not noticed. Perfect for the casual assassin, burglar, and occasional drug mule. You don’t apologize. Don’t explain. Because that’s more time wasted, more money piled onto your dept. “Granger is dead.” “Yeah, of old age.” You swallow back the anger. After five years of cat scratches like that, you’re more than used to keeping your feelings in check. “My next assignment, sir?”

His circuitry clicked. “Nothing. Maybe I’ll give you something next time if you aren’t so inconsiderate with my time.” You turn for the door. No argument there. “Oh and, (Y/n)?” You stop, hand on the polished knob. “Be here twelve tomorrow. Sharp. Or I’m adding another month.” His threat is real, but hollow. Another month under his thumb means nothing when you’re too useful to ever let go. Shallowly, you nod and slip out the door. *** Another two hundred. A month after the last raise in rent. You could kill her. Tell her to jump off the complex roof while doing a hand spring. “Miss Neighbor?” A voice behind you makes you look down, down, down. She’s a tiny thing. A sprout though she’s supposed to be eleven. “Caligula got out again.” Her arms piston forward, presenting the fluffy thing. Eyes slited and soft belly exposed. You sigh, taking him into your arms where he melts and purrs. “Thanks Cecelia.” You say, foot kicking open your ajar door. Caligula figured out how to turn the knob last year. Ever since you’d been vigilant about double locking the door but some days you were in a hurry and too stressed to worry. Like today. “I owe you one.” Your hand slipped into your hoodie, pulling out the last remaining dollars and coins stolen from the stranger. You spot a fifty in the wad that her eager hands wrap around. You hold on a little too long before letting go. There’d be more pockets to pick tomorrow. You could make rent with a few extra hours. Though, man, you didn’t want to. You were tired enough as it was. Her eyes glittered as she thumbed through the cash, the little capitalist. She slipped a single dollar and two quarters into one hand. The rest of the fat stack in the other. Ah, reward money for giving her money. Child’s logic. She holds out the wad to you. “Thanks Neighbor lady, but I just need a buck fifty for the vending machine down the hall. Gonna get me a Reese's Pieces.” She yelled a thanks more heartfelt than yours and toddled down the hall, knees awkwardly bowed. You watch her turn the corner. Slack jawed. For a change, somebody let you keep something. Something good happened, even after you made a stupid decision.

You push inside the studio and push away all thoughts of killing Cecelia’s greedy bitch mother. Who would find Caligula if she had to move to her aunt’s? Plus, if you got rid of her mom another, greedier landlord would probably replace her. There wasn’t a point. Early dinner was phoned in because you were so frazzled after this afternoon you’d forgot to grocery shop. Pizza. You waited, splayed on the couch, Caligula purring away on your knee. A Youtube stream pulled up on your junk laptop because you didn’t bother with a TV. News was a good thing to keep an eye on when you were a criminal. A knock at the door. You rise. The pizza boy looks about the age of minimum wage. Still, you tell him, “Give me your wallet and the pizza.” Before shutting, and locking, the door in his face, no tip. Good deed already done for the day. Another knock should come. Him demanding payment and his wallet. Instead, footsteps recede. He’s already forgotten. He’ll remember vaguely later, making a regular delivery. Losing his wallet, maybe in his car on while packing pizzas. He’ll panic, pause his debit card that you’ll never touch out for fear of being tracked. Working for Machine Head meant cash only. You’re back on the couch, indulging. Caligula licking grease off your fingers. You skip from one news stream to the next. Looking for yourself. You weren’t the costume and flashy mask type of supervillian. If you considered yourself super at all. No inhuman strength or speed or shape shifting. Just, talking and making people listen. You were lucky. Only caught the once. It was the second time Mark saw you rolling with Machine Head, a month after your cataclysmic teenage breakup. A year in the slammer, slap on the wrist. Machine Head paid your way out of papers and records. It was three months later, after a particular fuck up, Machine Head revealed to you that Mark came to the prison the day you were supposed to be released. You’d been let out a day early. At the time you thought they just wanted you out because of overcrowding. But Machine Head knew Mark would come. Would try and persuade you to his side of things. Maybe make up and be sweethearts again. By then, through prison and three months of being an official card in Machine Hand’s deck— you’d crossed lines Mark wouldn’t forgive. You couldn’t go running back, saying you saw his side now. Because you didn’t. Imagining what Mark would say if he saw you again, if he knew you stayed with Machine Head, it was enough to make you cry right in the middle of Machine Head’s office. He didn’t even have to rub your nose in the shame when you’d do it yourself. You were so angry. At Mark for putting you in jail, playing you right into Machine Head’s hands. At Machine Head for never letting you out from under his thumb. At everything, all of the time.

Working for Machine Head wasn’t all bad. Got his endless supply of grunts to teach you a thing or two about tact and not getting caught. Things like not abusing the pizza boy every day. You saved it for once every few months. Never the same boy twice. Any repeats would be begrudgingly paid. Another slice finds it’s way between your fingers. You’re mid-groan as your attention catches on the latest stream. Not ten minutes ago you were bored out of your gourd. Now, “A devastating attack has left Seattle’s space needle— gone.” The camera panned up, up, not that far up because the iconic slab of concrete was fucking leveled. Your brows raise but you make no move. Not your circus, not your monkeys. The camera raises further. “And it seems the destruction was at the hands of—“ The stream cuts, going blue on your computer scream. You scoff, lean forward and beat the corner as flashes of blue and yellow mock you. Finally, it clears, and you see somebody. Decked in white. Hovering hundreds of feet about the needle. The pizza turns sour in your stomach but you lean forward, elbows on knees. Unable to see a face but so familiar with the shape of that body. For every time you saw it, on the news or overhead, your stomach went sour. “What the fuck is he doing without his mask on?” You squint. Just seeing the dot of tanned skin that was his head, no details beyond. Caligula yowled, crossing over your laptop keys to get at your fingers. The stream changes. “—le are evacuating Universal Studios Hollywood in droves. Authorities are unsure what’s caused the majority of the studio to collapse.” A crash off screen. The camera pans. Smoke rises from the skyline. Wind carrying it down to pollute the central valley. There’s that shape, that body again. Silhouette dark in the smoke, with something else, something you hadn’t seen. A new low. A fucking cape? Caligula takes another step. The stream changes. “This just in, Big Ben is gone.” An anchor takes up the screen, pale and balding forehead shining with sweat. “Sorry, Keith, uhm, what do you mean gone?” “I mean it’s gone, Jared. Cut— Cut to the footage!” The stream flickers. There’s the London sky. Gray and dreary. Clouds overshadowed by pillars of smoke. Chunks of rubble litter the street. Cars with their horns still blaring, engines burning crushed beneath. People squashed like grapes.

There he is again. But. No. Not really. This shape in the sky, this man had the same makeup but wider, thicker. You lean closer to the screen, sure you’re seeing things and not his old super suit. Your phone vibrates in your pocket. The news is forgotten, half eaten pizza slice thrown to the pen box where Caligula pounces to lick pooled oils off the cheese. You don’t have to look to know it’s work. Nobody calls you for anything but work and you only work for Machine Head. “Boss is feeling generous.” Isotope’s voice grits through the speaker. “Get back here on the double.” Seeing what you mistook for your ex on so many streams has soured your mood. Spiked your daring. “You can’t just teleport me?” He scoffs. “You’ve got legs don’cha? Use ‘em.” Machine Head’s voice spiked the other end of the line. Isotope sighs. “Don’t move.” You wipe your hands off on your pants before he’s in your apartment. Appearing through a haze of radioactive green light. You don’t even get to stand before his hand is on your shoulder and you’re zapped into Machine Head’s sprawling high rise. You stumble but straighten. Isotope leaving your side to stand at attention by Machine Head. Who was currently heaving over his desk. Papers, pens, and pretty mugs dashed to the floor. It’d only been a few minutes. Did Granger survive? Did somebody see you? Report you? Is Machine Head going to have you killed, right here, right now? Power coils in your throat. Words ready to shoot like bullets to protect yourself. “Tell me, Dregs.” The word spits off his electric voice box like sparks. Your stomach cinches. In this room, on the street, in the normal world, you were (Y/n). On jobs with fellow grunts you didn’t trust, in Machine Head’s scant paper trail, you were Dregs. He reserved calling the insult of a ‘villain name’ for when he was particularly unhappy with you. The name wasn’t your doing. It was a nasty nickname that stuck when Machine Head, near dead, overheard Invincible, breaking up with you in the shattered remains of his office all those years ago. “You— you’ve been— you’re—“ His lip quivered under his mask. “I did this for us.” You’d said. “I needed money to go to college with you. It’s just a one time thing!”

“They tried to kill me. He hired you to help kill me.” His voice had changed then, matured a fraction. Gone was the boyfriend that called you dude. Here was the man, mask held in his hand, identity shocking you to your core. “I didn’t know it was you!” “So you were fine with killing somebody?” “I thought it was all talk!” You’d pled with him. In the middle of this very room, now reconstructed and shiny. “Well it wasn’t!” “I saved you.” You’d protested. “Without even knowing it was you— I saved you!” Because you had thought it was talk. You thought it was an easy paid security guard gig and you weren’t ready to kill someone for money. How times would change. “You— How long have you been working with these—“ He gestured to the room at large. The dead. The dying. The bloody. He wasn’t looking great himself, but you spared him most of the pain with your words. A few suggestions here and there could save lives. You could’ve been a hero. His face sucks in then the word comes flying out, “Dregs of society— these fucking—“ And it stuck. Hearing it always made you want to hit something. Though your punches weren’t particularly affective. You could tell Machine Head to jump out his shiny bay window but you don’t because there’s always a bigger thumb. “Why-“ You’re back to the present, “the,” staring down your shitty bosses back, “fuck,” thinking about killing him, “is,” again, “your ex boyfriend tearing apart my city!?” “What?” Now that, was not what you were expecting. “You heard me!” His voice synthesizer spiked, turning the words into a melody. “Use your eyes!” You look past his heaving form. So focused on the idea of being murdered you neglected the city scape. Sky scrapers were sliced in half. Twisted metal supports reaching for the sky. Smoke billowing, fire brewing. You heard it now, the screaming from below. A black streak cuts the horizon. Blasts straight through the empire state building. The top half of the building groans, hitting nearby buildings as it comes down, shaking the city. People fall out the windows, go splat on the ground. Others are crushed under fresh rubble. Standing up in the air was unmistakably Mark. Wearing his Invincible skin, the new blue and black one that made you angry with how good it looked on him. But he wasn’t wearing his mask, which was unlike himself. He also had a mohawk, which was also unlike himself.

“Jesus.” You say. Thinking of clones or illusions or shape shifters. Villain of the week type of bullshit. “Is that you trying to fix things? Stop him!” Machine Head’s hands go to his head, gripping metal like hair. “Now!” That’s how you ended up here. Standing on the roof of Machine Head’s high rise. Jerry-rigged megaphone in hand. No ordinary Walmart megaphone would do in a situation like this. Had to be a ‘roided up version of the original. Double speakers on the sides with complicated volume amplifiers in its guts. You’d been here before. Ontop a building, shouting into a megaphone. There was almost nothing ridiculous you hadn’t done to get someone to hear you. To do what someone wanted you to do. Usually it was ontop of a bank, shouting at police to leave, to forget about the robbery, to forget your face. This was new enough that your palms were slick with sweat around the plastic handle. Mark sliced through more buildings with his body. They went down like soft butter. His laugh cracking and wrong as people burst open on the streets. The cavalry had arrived. Nobody low-levels on the city’s payroll. Mark cut through them easier than the buildings. Not Mark, you tell yourself. Mark didn’t kill. You did. Mark wasn’t bad. You were. That’s why things didn’t work out. You breathe in. Anger surging. Whoever or whatever this loser was— was going down, hard. “Hey!” The megaphone twisted your voice from one to multitudes. From a shout to a building shaking scream. Not Mark paused midair. Holding a half dead hero against him. Fists beating his cheat while their guts spilled out their midriff. He was half a mile away, a spec, but you still felt his eyes on you. Hard and boiling a dot through your skull. “You! Yeah, you!” Getting their attention was always the worst part. If he didn’t think you were talking to him, your power would fall flatter than a popped balloon. One of the many drawbacks that’d nearly gotten you killed time and time again. The hero dropped. Still falling. You didn’t see him coming, human eyes too weak to see faster than light. He’d be on you before the hero hit the ground. “Stop!” The air cracks. You stumble back. Eardrums crackling. One good thing about having powers? The littlest, stupidest things are enhanced. Not your hearing, no, but your ability to not go deaf. You literally can’t. Sure, you could’ve had a naturally amplified voice, super speed, healing, but nope! You get— anti-deaf powers, if you could call it that, as a cherry on top.

Not Mark is suspended midair, a flower preserved in resin. Fist reeled back ready to punch a hole through your head. A grin that’s more of a snarl on his lips. Black piercings shining in the light of nearby fires. Brow, bridge, cheek, lip, like lizard spikes. Mohawk flattened against his head. Blood on his teeth, on his knuckles. Close up, he is Mark. A clone or deft shape shifter, but so close to your Mark it throws you off balance. Worse is the no mask part. Your ex-boyfriend stares at you will his full naked face. Eyes brown but darker, more sunken than you remember. With bags beneath, like being evil is so fucking exhausting. Shape shifter for sure, and a bad one. He blinks. Still in air. Eyes sharp on your features as you lower the megaphone. Something about those eyes scare the shit out of you. You expect glazed complacency. You except no expression at all. But he’s looking at you with so much emotion, too much to be really under your control. There’s no time for machinations. You knew aliens or other powered individuals could give you trouble. But nobody was able to fully resist, not yet. So you say, “Kill yourself.” Just as he says, “It’s you.” You’re both surprised. You double down. Power leaden on your tongue. “Break your own neck, now.” His arms move like an animatronic. One hand poised on his sharp jaw, the other poised on his shoulder for purchase. There’s no snap, death groan, and falling five stories. He is staring at you like you’re actually precious to him. Like he misses you. Like he didn’t dump you then throw you in jail a month later. Like he didn’t see other people, like Atom Eve and him weren’t going steady. It pisses you off. Power roils in your throat. You growl this time, “Rip out your throat.” His hands fall to his sides. You’d met resistance before but a rephrase, a second or third command always did it. He wasn’t dead and that was a very, very bad thing. “You made it.” He says. Soft but voice gruff. “To New York.”

“Die!” You command. Though your power didn’t work on vague words like die. “Die, right now!” His feet touched down on the ledge. You step back. “Stop breathing.” At those words he sobers. A smile, sharp toothed and easy and so un-Mark-like stretches his face. “Guess we want each other dead in every reality.” The words are an inside joke that make him laugh. “I almost respect the forwardness.” "Break your legs.” You spit, taking another step back. Megaphone falling to the floor. “Break your arms." “I think-“ He follows you in slow, languid strides. “You shouldn’t talk to your emperor and boyfriend like that.” Your words like bullets on kevlar armor, on viltrumite skin. They make him pause momentarily, shudder, then he breaks right though your hold and keeps coming. Boyfriend? Boyfriend!? You couldn’t have a boyfriend working for Machine Head. You’d seen what he threatened Titan with. You couldn’t have Mark, of all fucking people, as a boyfriend because of what he did. So you couldn’t let yourself have a boyfriend because you were so scared you’d get the same fucking reaction. And if things got to be too much you’d tell them forget, find someone else. You see red. “Eat your heart and shit it out.” “Jeez, did I really fuck up this bad here?” He chuckles, and it sounds like Mark. Your Mark. “Now!” The power forces out of you in waves. His step wobbles but he just keeps coming. “You really must want me dead! What’d I do, take over your planet? You know a man’s got needs, baby. No biggie.” The door to the stairs bursts open. Machine Head heaves with the effort of racing up the flights. Isotope behind him, less winded. “Dregs!” Machine Head hisses. “Fuckin’ kill him already!” “Dregs?” Not Mark tests the name on his tongue. “Is your name here fucking Dregs? Do- oh shit-“ His eyes alight, “Now I geddit. You’ve got powers in this universe!” He says like it wasn’t obvious. “That’s like your hero name, right? Oh (Y/n), baby, that’s so stupid it’s cute.” “Fly into the sun.” Power rips out you, sizzling through the air. He actually hovers off the roof. You wait for him to blast off and become a solar flare. His muscles tense and untense. “So that’s what that is. Shit, I thought it was just like, true love and stuff.” And he was going to kill you. “Man, that feels… weird. Do it again.”

“Kill him!” Machine Head insists behind you. “Kill yourself.” You can feel a migraine on it’s way, pounding in your temples. Powers are like a muscle. They can only do so much before giving. “Do it. Die.” Not Mark shivers, letting out a delighted laugh. “Man, you could’ve really gotten me if I wasn’t full apeshit mode. But…” He hovers closer, leering, “You didn’t, so I guess it’s my turn now.” “Isotope, take me to Seattle!” You speak before you think. Before his hand can clasp your throat. Isotope is next to you in a millisecond. Then you’re gone. Machine Head’s raging protests gone from your ears. The streets of Seattle are wet with blood and rain. Isotope stands beside you, in a haze he’ll come out of any minute. Coming here of all places was a horrible idea but you hadn’t thought. The city came off your tongue, fresh on the mind. “Help.” A voice croaks. A broken hand paws at your feet. Orange and gloved, once a defender, now an arm peaking out rubble. “Help me.” You stare at it because what the fuck? The air whips. You look overhead. He’s a hundred feet up, maybe more. Looking right back down at you. He’s more imposing than he was on your laptop screen. Broader of shoulder, uniform crisp white except where it wasn’t. Where glistening sinew chunks clung to his chest. He stares you down like shit under his shoe. You wait for sudden death that never comes. Whoever this was. Mark, Not Mark, some hot guy, he wasn’t hurting you though he clearly just killed a metric fuckton of people; and you didn’t know why and honestly? It scared the shit out of you. The hand finds your ankle. “Help. Help.” Not Mark comes down then like an anchor. Arms crossed, legs tight. Crushing the rubble beneath his feet. Making the hand go limp, blood framing around it. You knew at a distance and were even more sure now. It was Mark but wrong, again. Face too symmetrical, too sharp. Your Mark had little imperfections, a crooked nose from his Omni-Man induced beat down, ache scars on his hairline. This version was trophy husband material, mocking you in it’s image for what could’ve been. He’s taller. Why is he taller?

Not Mark number two’s eyes are cold, rock brown slates that slide to Isotope. The shift in his muscles are subtle but you know violence is coming. You weren’t staying to watch it happen. “Take me to Hollywood.” And it was done. You were in a outdoor walkway by studio six. Isotope on your arm, stupor elongated. The decision again proved to be bad, made from a sick need to check, to run. Studio six was burning and you could smell the bodies. “Take me to the road.” You command. A flash, and you’re there. Outside the heart of Hollywood, watching Universal crash and burn. The rest of the city was no better. You knew Hollywood was worse in person but you never imagined it a gray flattened husk. This couldn’t be real. You were dreaming, going to wake any second. A shadow passed overhead. You look up, nothing but smoke and sun. From behind, “Need some help, friend?” You turn. He’s back in black (and yellow), grinning with his mask on. Cape billowing stupidly in the breeze. A scar indented to his face from chin to lip. A sliver of lip gone, exposing half a tooth before the scar meandered up, under his mask. “Oh shit.” A laugh rips out of him. “(Y/n), you old so and so. What are you doing in my neck of the woods?” Like the others he’s splattered with the lives of others. Reveling, practically glowing in it. “Tell me who you are.” You say, holding tight to Isotope in case he sobers and decides to zap away. No way you were being stranded with this… thing. His body goes ridged at the command. You think he’ll resist like the other, then it comes pouring out. “Mark Grayson.” He says. “But not the one you know.” Your head pounds. He’s not lying, people can’t lie when you’re prying information out of them. “More than that. Details.” “I’m here to destroy everything I see. I’ve been…” He shakes his head, body loosening. You feel your control snap away like a cut cord. His lips seal then pull back in a wicked grin. “Oh, you’ve got different tricks here. Tell me, have I taken hold of this useless planet yet? Do you see me as someone to rise up against? Have you given up yet? Have you saved your own life by sucking my—“ "Tokyo.”

You’re somewhere you’ve only dreamed of going and it’s destroyed. You thought, since you hadn’t seen it on the news it’d be a safe bet. You could figure things out, come up with a game plan, but no. You couldn’t think with your head pounding and nose starting to bleed, power waning with overuse on too many overpowered targets. The muscle was straining. You weren’t used to this much. To resistance. To using Isotope, strong in his own right, like a puppet. It was exhausting. Isotope was wobbling on his feet. He could teleport over and over but being under your control so long as well? Wasn’t good for him. Clearly, the apocalypse was nigh so you couldn’t give a shit about anybody but yourself. You snapped back to reality standing over a pair of women, curled on the ground in fetal position. “Tell me what happened.” You say. The blonde one doesn’t unfurl but speaks, accented and injured, “He destroyed everything.” “Who?” Her arm unfurls, shaking finger pointing up. You look up, expecting. The sky is clear. The woman’s arm re-latches to her brain dead best friend. “I wasn’t expecting you here.” The voice is a river smoothed stone. Dark and solid— as a rock can be. You already know who it is before you can look. A sight you were starting to get a little more than tired of. Though you didn’t expect a red and white suit splattered with blood. He’s thicker, like the others, hair taller and spiked with gel. He steps forward, over the dead girl and her whimpering friend. The sounds catch his attention, the next step he takes crushes the living girls head. Brains dying his white boot pink. “It’s unfortunate you had to see this, but it’s better you did. We’re on the same page now.” “What the fuck does that mean?” Your power comes out weak, involuntary. You hadn’t meant to strain yourself but there you go, fucking up again. “I want you to understand that what I’m doing is necessary. I don’t understand why you fought me before. So… unneeded. You’d know you’d never beat me but you…” His brows press together through his mask. His lip twitches, “I’ve said too much.” And your hold falls away. Out comes his hand, fabric originally white but now red. “Come with me.” “Sydney.”

You stood across the water from the flaming opera house. A scream of frustration comes out as a cough, blood and mucous splat onto the cracked sidewalk. Your balance tips and wavers but you cling to Isotope who is barley upright himself. You really needed to stop going for capital cities. This one you see. Black and blue above the hundred foot tall fire. Watching it burn quiet as the night which it now was, across the world from your starting point. The mask completely covers his face, but knowing how today is going. It’s Mark, again. He disappears. You open your mouth, power rising up your throat. Air breaks. You’re thrown off your feet. He’s before you. Feet off the ground, staring you down though blue lenses. Same stupid spandex this time with a thick tool belt strapped round his waist and left thigh. A harness strapped to his chest, surely hiding things that could tear though your soft human flesh. Slight armor padding hiding his muscles. He hovers over the broken fence separating you from the water. Your panicked eyes reflected back at you through polarized blue goggles. You scramble to Isotope, splayed on the ground, bleeding from the back of his head. “Take me home.” His eyes lolled back into his head. You shake him, looking frantically behind you, to the unmoving phantom then back to him. “Hey! Wake up!” You watch the shape of a man. Terrified he’d come closer when you weren’t looking but there he stayed. Watching. Isotope’s eyes flutter. “Dregs.” He groans. “I… I can’t…” Sweat shines on his brow. You slap him hard across the face. Palm stinging. “I don’t give a shit! Take me home!” His pale narrow fingers wrap around your wrist. Green light grows slowly around you both. Not instant as if it would be if he weren’t fucked up. “Faster!” A sound from behind. You turn, finding something whipping toward you. You flinch, expecting a punch but instead find some cuff clapping onto your ankle. Thick and dark, matte finished. You don’t think of clawing at it as you’re teleported away. Yet you take one last look. He is still. Waiting. Your hovel of an apartment is like a church. You throw yourself to the unvacuumed floor, reverent. Caligula doesn’t come to love on you. When you peel up from the ground, Isotope is gaining his bearings. Eyes hazy with distaste as he zaps away, without you.

Leaving you alone in your tilted apartment. Everything was a little off skew. When you stood you stumbled back, partly from exhaust, partly from the floor literally not being at the right angle. It was then the building decided to creek. Letting you know of it’s incoming collapse.

Most of New York City had been ripped apart, so with your luck, why not your apartment? You’re out the door. Racing down flight after flight, two steps at a time. Beams whine in the walls. Pipes crack, spilling water from the ceiling into the lobby. You’re barley out when the building goes down. You run down the sidewalk, between crashed and burning cars. Hopping over bodies, bodies, bodies. When the world stops shaking, you look at the damage. Creeping closer, finally remembering your cat. The creeping gives way to frantic running. Tripping back over the bodies, screaming, “Caligula!” At the mountain of what used to be your home. You throw yourself to the most manageable bit of rubble. Throwing stone size pieces tossed away in hopes you’d reveal your cat. You didn’t have much besides the clothes on your back and this goddamn power of yours— but Caligula kept you going. Kept you hoping. Because if he could come up in life, going from a neglected stray to spoiled in a twenty-something year olds apartment. You could do the same thing. “Ca-“ “Cecelia?” You look up. Climbed to the apex of the disaster was your greedy landlord. Tossing concrete more frantically than you were. You climb up, carefully avoiding exposed leaking pipes. She had the right idea. Higher up meant maybe a better chance of survival. You search together, but separate. Calling different names. Kicking down different chunks. Waiting for heroes to come but after what you saw earlier— you doubted it. “Rrrrow?” You know that sound anywhere. Your head snaps. Watching the gray go from rock to a fuzzy back. “Oh God, Caligula!” You skid down to him and he jumps up to you. Meowing. Dust in his fur but otherwise okay. He’d gotten out again. This time all the way to the outside. He was okay. He was okay and you were so happy you cried into him. “Cecelia! Ce— Cecelia?” You shouldn’t have looked. Watched the landlord crack her back as she moved the largest piece of debris she had yet. Just to fall beside the severed arm of her little girl. Fingers curled around a buck fifty.

She threw herself on the arm. Dirty fingers clawing at the window ledge that covered the rest of her little girl’s body. Opening her nails up on broken glass. Screaming a scream so horrible you’d never forget— and you killed people for a living. A dent split open the back of her head, a waterfall of blood you hadn’t noticed before. The dent exposed her hind brain, though she didn’t seem to care, still screaming for her dead baby girl. You weighed the options. Leave. Help. Have a better chance of finding help for yourself. Put the bitch down like you’d dreamed. Survive. Chance being found by the monster that did this. You chose both. Not getting any close to her but turning. Power weak, watery but you didn’t need much. Not for the average person, distracted and distressed. “Lay down. Sleep.” She did just that. You climbed down from the rubble. Careful with Caligula in your arms. Retracing your steps away from the building. When you look back, she wasn’t breathing. *** “Where is she?” THUNK! Machine Head didn’t so much as feel pain. More so, felt his circuitry being shifted inside him. Any more of this and he’d stop working. Repairs on a piece as intricate as himself didn’t come cheap. “Probably in fucking Seattle, asshole!” He said for the fifth time. He’d explained, best a robo man could while his ass was being beat by his grunt’s now blood thirsty (or would it be oil thirsty?) ex boyfriend. “He can teleport and she took ‘im!” “Seattle’s gone idiot!” THUNK! Another punch dented the side of his head. Devastating for Machine Head, but nothing close to the skyscraper shattering power he’d seen before. The motherfucker was beating the circuits out of him but still holding back. Something was sparking and smoking within him. His camera eyes were starting to static. “What—“ “Boss!” Zip, zap, Cadillac. He was out of one man’s arms, into another. But not anywhere near far enough away from the little freak. Isotope managed to get his boss away, about thirty feet. Holding him up just barley, eyes still frosty with the mind fog that Dregs cunt had inflicted on him. He tried splitting reality again, just to fizzle out and land them right back in the same spot. Said little freak’s gaze slid to Isotope. Voice more dangerous than before. “She was just with you.” It was more of a question, a demand. Isotope was about to pass out but that didn’t leave him stupid. “At her place.” He breathed. The freak stepped forward. “Where?”

#mark grayson x reader #alternate mark grayson x reader #mohawk invincible #sinister invincible #omni mark #viltrum mark #phantom mark #invincible #invincible show #invincible comic #fanfic #x reader #MDGF #rea writes #long post #reabees fans PLEASE be normal about this #tw child death #tw death

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uki01 · 3 months ago

Note

Hello! I see you’re open to requests right now and I can also see that Sonic is one of your current hyper fixations (me too lol). I wanted to ask about romantic headcanons for Sonic, Shadow, Amy, Knuckles, Silver, and Sticks.

Common as it is, I’m a sucker for jealousy/possessive headcanons. How would these guys/gals stake their claim on their partner for everyone to know just who they’re with?

Gender of their partner doesn’t really matter to me just write how you feel most comfortable. And obviously if this has already been requested, please feel free to delete. Thank you!

Sonic The Hedgehog, Shadow The Hedgehog, Amy Rose, Knuckles The Echidna, Silver The Hedgehog and Sticks The Badger x Reader (Separately)

Author’s Note: Thank you for your request! I crashed out way too badly when I lost this draft so sorry if it took way too long!

Warnings: Possessive and Jealousy! Might be OOC, crying mentioned, insecurity mentioned.

“I think that it’s jealousy”

Sonic The Hedgehog

Sonic thinks he’s too cool to be jealous, because what does he need to get jealous of?

He’s the fastest hedgehog there is, can spin dash, spin ball, turn Super, has an attractive personality, charming and super cool

And best of all, he’s got the best and hottest/handsome boyfriend/girlfriend/partner ever! And they feel the same way and think he’s the coolest person to be around, he’s way above getting jealous?

ERRH! 👹. Wrong.

When he sees you with someone, he doesn’t think too much of it, just friends chatting, nothing wrong.

That is until they start getting close to you… incredibly close, that’s when his cocky attitude starts to falter

He zooms by and just happens to see you and you’re ‘friend’! What a coincidence!

Sonic then either starts showing off to you his tricks or dragging you off somewhere away with some excuse.

Examples:

“Yo Y/N I heard there was this eating 200 chilli dogs contest! I need you to be my cheerleader!”

“Hey hey hey! If it isn’t my favourite person, Y/N! Speaking of, I heard there’s this parade going on! You love parades right? Well why wait! Let’s go!”

“Y/N what a coincidence! Say, I am making a band right now, why don’t you be my singer! You have a lovely voice!”

You don’t find this odd since Sonic’s always dragging you god knows where but it’s funny how it always happens after a friend starts to get close or you two laugh together like hyenas? How strange.

After a few days of being dragged somewhere after laughing with your friend. You ask Sonic what’s going on, which he acts all innocent when you ask that question, great, now something is definitely going on.

You then ask Sonic why has he been acting weird since you keep chatting with you’re friend and he happens to be there, he denies it again, then it clicked, you then asked if he’s jealous then he starts fumbling over his words.

”Jealous? Me? Nah! Pffft! I am way to cool for that”

Of course, this guy smh… 🤦🏽‍♀️

You tell him to be honest otherwise you’re sleeping on the couch, which his grin fades and starts being honest (finally).

”Okay okay sheesh… yes, I’m jealous… but you saw how your friend got close to you! They were putting their arms all over you non stop! I swear they have a crush on you! You know I don’t like that!”

Oh, it was just that?

You laughed at him, he starts to pout, what a funny guy, you kiss him then reassure him that there’s nothing going on between you and you’re friend, which he does calm down and softens up a bit.

”I… I’m sorry I reacted that way babe, I just don’t want to lose you, you know? You are one of the best people that’s happen to me and I value you a lot”

Awww, even if he’s a pain in the ass he’s genuinely a sweetheart and does want to make sure you are comfortable and safe.

Overall, Sonic’s annoying when he’s jealous, starts to do outrageous tricks, it’s embarrassing and he knows it so please stop him.

Rating Jealousy Level: 7/10

Shadow The Hedgehog

Shadow, where do I start with this hedgehog.

So first things first, Shadow’s like a guard dog, always glaring at those who dare to lay their eyes on you and is practically ready to jump on away that dares to make a move on you, even kids (RIP to my bro, Tails).

I mean, you don’t entirely blame him, he watched his best friend/older sister figure, Maria get shot right in front of him while he was powerless and couldn’t do anything to stop it from happening. So you just let it happen… most of the time.

So when he sees you and your friend chatting away, being all friendly with each other. He starts glaring and basically scowling at your friend.

Shadow stands very close to you while you are chatting with your friends, basically glaring at your friend telling them eye to eye back off.

Which your friend then does and tells you they have to do something. Confused, you turned to Shadow who just says.

“They aren’t worth your time”

More confused but shrugs it off. But this has become a regular occurrence nowadays.

Not that Shadow wasn’t naturally protective, he was definitely, it was just every time you go to see your friend, always scaring them off with a stare, and always saying things like they aren’t worth it or just not something to waste your time on.

Examples:

“You always talk to them, why bother waste your time with some pathetic moron who doesn’t know how to keep their distance”

“Y/N, you should stop wasting your time on this person, they aren’t worth the trouble”

“Why even bother with them? They don’t know how to keep hands and feet to themselves, they probably don’t even wash after getting their disgusting hands on you”

You are surprised by his behaviour, but you found out that he does this when your friend gets closer to you.

Shadow wasn’t the type to do something without thinking, so something must be going on his mind right now.

When Shadow came back from a mission with Rouge and Omega, you ask him why is he acting so hostile towards your friend, of course he denies what you say and doesn’t know what your talking about.

Yep, somethings going on.

You ask Shadow again what’s going on, he denies it again and says this that clicks in your head.

”I am fine, why don’t you go waste your time blabbing about with your friend”

Ohhhh, so that’s why he’s been acting this why

Aww, poor guy, you then ask him if he’s jealous and if he denies it again you’ll go talk to your friend.

His silence for a bit, then speaks up, admitting his own hostility.

”Fine… yes, I am, but don’t you see how they look, put their hands on you. They keep coming on to you like your some prize, I greatly despise my partner being treated like one when they are not and they should respect your time, boundaries and space, like I do.”

Oh my god, he’s such a cutie you just wanna squish his face.

You reassured Shadow that nothing is happening between you and your friend, giving him a kiss on the forehead which he immediately relaxes too, ashamed at his own weakness.

”I’m… sorry… I’m just… afraid of losing you, to someone who can’t even protect you, you worth so much and deserves justice, I promised to Maria that I will protect the world, and I promise to you that I won’t let anything bad happen to you my love.”

Ugh, my Shayla ☹️💔🫶🏽

Overall, Shadow’s like a viscous dog when he’s jealous, so please be on the lookout for him and make sure he doesn’t cause too much damage and reassure this man.

Rating Jealousy Level: 10/10

Amy Rose

MY BEAUTIFUL PINK GIRL ��💕😭

Amy is such a sweetheart, always making sure you are comfortable, this relationship is fair, great communication and both are safe and healthy!

So in a way I do see Amy being jealous but not to where she’s batshit crazy, no no no, I can never for my gorgeous girl.

Amy’s more of a type that whenever she sees someone being way too friendly, she steps in and asks what’s going on, if nothings going on, that’s all fine by her!

But when she does see your friend be waaay to close for her liking, she gets a bit annoyed

She then walks into the conversation, as if she just happened to be there!

Asking what’s going on or what’s the tea?

Examples:

“Heeey Y/N sweetie! Hello Y/N’s friend, so! I just saw you two chatting! Sooo, what’s the tea?”

“Oh! Hi Y/N! Isn’t it fancy seeing you here! I was just walking by and see you chatting with?… ah, that’s your name! Anyways! What’s going on here?”

“Y/NNN!~ Hii baby! It’s so lovely to see you here! I see you are just chatting with this person? What’s going on? You two seem, very lively, hapoy and giggly so I figured I asked, what’s all the giggles I am hearing and what’s it about?”

At first, you didn’t think too much of it, just your girlfriend, Amy strolling by, seeing you and your friend and asking what’s going on.

But now it’s been a regular thing where you’ll be chatting with your friend and Amy just happens to pass by, weird? Is she following you?

You two were always happy in this relationship and had great communication, is there something missing that you aren’t aware of?

You decided to go ask Amy what’s going on and how do you keep finding you and your friend.

She starts fumbling her words a bit, when your friend is mentioned, oh, now you get it.

You ask Amy if she’s jealous which she replies to

”Me? No no no! Of course not! It’s just you and your friend!”

You slightly giggle at this and ask again, remaining her that communication is important, which she sighs and responds sheepishly.

”Okay yes… I’m jealous, but I just saw them always hanging with you and I know they’re your friend but I never knew they would be this close to you! I couldn’t help myself and insert myself in the conversation… I’m sorry sweetheart.”

Aww this poor baby, she’s so sweet.

You kiss her, hold her hands, get her to look at you and tell her, reassuring her you aren’t going anywhere.

Tears and smile appearing on Amy’s face as she jumps and hugs you tightly as she wraps her arms around you.

”Oh thank you so much sweetie! I promise I will tell you when I’m feeling this way next time! I love you so much sweetheart!”

What a wonderful woman, get yourself a woman like Amy Rose

Overall, Amy isn’t too bad like Sonic or Shadow, she’ll just hop into your conversations with your friends whenever she feels this way, in which you personally don’t mind but remember to remind her that you aren’t going anywhere and your happy in this relationship with her.

I mean come on, you’ve got Amy Rose.

Rating Jealousy Level: 5/10

Knuckles The Echidna

Let’s be for real, Knuckles? Has zero clue.

Dudes spent his entire life dedicated to the Master Emerald, guarding it from any potential threats (cough cough Rouge cough Dr Eggman cough cough).

Knuckles maybe gullible but he isn’t that oblivious. Especially if his partner is in the wrong hands.

As soon as he sees your friend getting way to close and touchy you with, he gets his fists to talk your friend.

Think harder not smarter 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥

He barges in the conversation and starts basically growling at your friend, telling them to back off.

Examples:

“Hey! I don’t appreciate the way your getting close to my mate, so why don’t we play fair and step away from them!”

“You keep your arm away from there! What if they don’t want to be touched so much, haven’t you considered that before?”

“You need to stop talking so much and consider what your doing right now, keep your distance and hands off of my partner this instant”

Initially, you don’t see much of a problem until it becomes an every time thing with you and your friend.

With Knuckles constantly yelling at your friend to keep their distance and stop touching you was nice that he considers your boundaries but it was an all time thing now.

You knew he wasn’t good at social cues so you tried your best to ask Knuckles of why he’s always yelling at your friend every time.

”They just need to learn when they should stop and consider what’s right and worth for you”

You take this into consideration and it clicked, you asked him if he was jealous of you and your friends daily chats, which of course, he doesn’t know what it means, then you explained it to Knuckles and he humbly accepts.

”Jealousy? Well, yes I am, they shouldn’t be standing to close, I may not know too much but I know everyone needs space now and then, you too should have that right, I don’t want this person constantly going up to you every time, especially if they aren’t worth the effort and doesn’t have the strength to protect you in a way I can”

What a lovely humble echidna.

You give Knuckles a kiss on the forehead and tell him you are fine and reassure him that everything’s fine. He relaxes to this but keeps on guard.

”As you say dearest, please know that I am always available if need of assistance, I do value you and care for you a lot, and will and as always, will fight for your honour, I love you very much dear”

Ugh, Knuckles is such an underrated character, give him some love.

Overall, Knuckles’s like a guard dog, just like Shadow, make sure to keep an eye on him before he uses his fists for good use. Like always for Knuckles, think harder not smarter 🗣️🗣️🔥🔥

Rating Jealousy Level: 6/10

Silver The Hedgehog

Now Silver? Insecure and anxious

Yeah he does have telekinetic powers but he tends to overthink and worry if he’s good enough for you.

Silver’s future is messed up and in a worse state, wanting to have a better future for you and him to live, peacefully in.

So when he sees you chatting with a friend, the poor boy can’t help but feel insecure.

Silver would either stand with you or just which you away with his powers.

Which surprises you, this often happens when your friend are just done laughing or hugging.

As soon as you meet up with Silver when he lowers you done with his powers.

Silver tends to make random excuses like Sonic, but unlike The Blue Blur who is way more confident and good with it, Silver doesn’t sound too confident and is fumbling halfway.

Examples:

“Why did I bring you here? Uhh… oh right! I saw these flowers!… and I wanted to ask you if you wanted… to.. sniff them?”

“Y/N! I!… Uhh.. brought you here because… it’s important! Come on!”

“Hey! Uh.. Y/N! I just wanted to… check on you?…”

You catch this behaviour of this, it becomes a regular thing when you meet up with your friend.

You then ask Silver why he’s acting like this, which he doesn’t respond, looking ashamed.

After looking at the floor he responds, sheepishly.

”Well uh… I just… saw your friend and… you seemed to be having fun with them… and I wanted to bring you here just to chat! Honest!”

Oh, ohhh now you get it.

You ask Silver if he’s jealous, which he fumbled and tries to deny it but fails.

”What? No no definitely not! Absolutely not! None of that! Really!”

You just give him a stare, waiting, he then sighs and admits it, shyly.

”Yes… I am jealous, I’m really sorry I drag you away from your friend, I just… when I saw you with them… I felt insecure and left out, I just wondered if I was good enough for you… I’m sorry for leaving your friend in the dust cause of my selfishness”

Oh my god, your and my poor baby

You give Silver a kiss, which catches him off guard till you hugged him, patting his back and quills, reassuring Silver that you aren’t going anywhere.

Tears fell out of his eyes, hugs you back, afraid if he lets go you’ll disappear.

”I am so lucky you have you, you don’t know how much I’ll do for you, I would tear the multiverse just to see your beautiful laughter and smile, I love you so much honey”

Oh my god, my Shayla ��💔🫶🏽

Overall, Silver’s more insecure when he’s jealous, so please reassure this man with all your heart, he deserves it.

Rating Jealousy Level: 8/10

Sticks The Badger

Sticks? Oh this girl is wild (literally).

She’s already paranoid, suspicious and feral when it comes to anybody she doesn’t know.

Sticks doesn’t hesitate, she will jump somebody if they make her or you uncomfortable, it’s on sight when she sees them.

So when she sees you with a friend and they’re getting too close and touchy, she’s jumping them.

On guard.

Nothing will stop her, touch Sticks’s girlfriend/boyfriend/partner, you’ll get dropkicked.

Not my words, it’s hers, trust.

Examples:

“Back! Back you foul beast! Stay away from my beloved partner! And stop touching them!”

“Don’t get too close to my partner! Only I can hug them like that! Back off!”

“Hey you! Stop getting so close with them like that! They are my partner! Stay back!”

Dude, you gotta stop this woman before she’s causes more damage.

You notice how Sticks does this when you and your friend link up and chat.

You asked her one day which she denies.

”Nah it’s not like that, they just need to know to keep their hands off you”

Ahhh, so that’s what it is, you ask Sticks if she was jealous which she becomes defensive and denies it quickly.

”Jealous? Whaaat! No! That is just me protecting you from any potential threats!”

You laugh and ask again, which she denies, until few seconds later she admits it.

”Okay if it makes you happy, yes, I am. But can you blame me! They were touching you! Gross! Only I can do that! With your consent and keep going near you! They should watch out, you don’t need to smell their disgusting breath”

You laugh again at this, kiss her and holds her hands. Reassuring Sticks you aren’t going anywhere and nothing is happening.

Sticks is thankful and relived but is on guard.

”I am happy you are happy in this relationship, from now on, I will make sure nothing will brainwash my amazing girlfriend/boyfriend/partner! You are the best people that I’ve ever met! I hope this is enough for you as always, Usually I’m not this sappy but I love you so much babe”

Sticks is one of the best Sonic characters, give her more screen time Sega. Overall, Sticks’s is a loose wild animal, keep watch of her before she causes property damage please.

Rating Jealousy Level: 8/10

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoy this! Sorry if it isn’t up to your exceptions but hope you love this!

#sonic the hedgehog x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #amy rose x reader #knuckles the echidna x reader #silver the hedgehog x reader #sticks the badger x reader #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #knuckles the echidna #silver the hedgehog #sticks the badger

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ladykailitha · 3 months ago

Text

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 24

Well, this is the end. I'm a little sad to see this one end. It's been a wild journey and one I loved every minute. The highs and the lows.

Special thanks to my discord @dreamercec, @bookworm0690, and @forgottenkanji, who helped me work out the kinks and cheered me on when I got discouraged.

Thanks of course to everyone who stuck with this story to the end and who liked, commented, and reblogged.

Next week, "You're a Dream to Me" will take over this slot as a full time regular.

The boys go a victory tour and put Hawkins in their rearview mirror. A life well lived really is the best revenge.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23

And go here for a little fun ficlet I did about the dangling chains the CC boys wear: Extra Scene

Steve woke up the next morning in a warm embrace and he just smiled to himself. If someone had told him six months ago that he would be living a hotel with a rockstar boyfriend, he would have called them crazy.

He thought Tommy and he were for life. That they would runaway together and live somewhere where there were sunny beaches. But he knew that never would have happened even if his dad hadn’t walked in on them making out. Tommy had always been down for a good time, not for a long time.

But Eddie?

Eddie was all in from the moment he sidled up to Steve at the Hideout. Steve might have been looking for a one night stand and warm place to sleep, but Eddie was always going to want more than that with him. His dad kicking him out just made it easier to dote on him.

He rolled over and nuzzled Eddie’s neck.

Eddie hummed happily as he awoke. “Good morning, little Canary.” He brought Steve’s chin up so he could kiss him deeply.

One thing led to another it was at least an hour before either of them got up and by the time they had showered and gotten dressed, (Steve briefly dashed over to his room to drab some clothes and came back) it was well past time for breakfast so they ordered lunch.

And as they waited, Steve curled up on Eddie’s lap, his head tucked under Eddie’s chin.

“You’re so soft, Stevie,” Eddie murmured, rubbing his thumb over the stripe of skin that was exposed in the gap between Steve’s jeans and shirt. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”

Steve snuggled in closer. “My dad called it my biggest failing. That in order to survive in this world you had to be hard. Cruel.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Well, maybe in his world, but not mine. Here, I want to you to stay soft, safe, and secure.”

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

There was a knock on the door and then it opened to reveal the porter with their lunch. He pushed the cart over to them and removed the cloches.

Eddie tipped him and the man went scuttling back the way he had come.

They settled down to eat, just laughing and talking about just the little things that made up their lives. Funny stories about the kids, struggles with the record label.

The soft things.

“So what are your plans for today?” Eddie asked, moving the cart in the hallway for the staff to collect after they had finished their lunch.

Steve straddled his lap when he came back to sit on the sofa and instantly Eddie’s hands came up to his waist to steady him. He looked up into Steve’s eyes and smiled.

“I figured we had two options,” Steve said, low and sensual. “Either go around to all our friends and Wayne, telling them we finally got our heads out of our asses...”

“Or...?” Eddie asked reaching around to cup Steve’s ass and giving it a hard squeeze, causing him shriek.

“Or we can go back to bed and make Rosa hate us for a week,” Steve said, jutting his head toward the direction of the bed.

Eddie pursed his lips and cocked his head thoughtfully. Then in a single swift motion, he stood up, taking Steve with him. Steve scrambled to wrap his arms and legs around Eddie so he didn’t fall.

Eddie cackled. “I’ve got you, baby.”

He walked them over to the bed and quickly stripped Steve of his clothes.

Steve mockingly glared up at him. “You are far too good at that,” he huffed with an eye roll.

“I’m good at a lot things, little Canary,” Eddie teased. “I’m a going to have the best time showing you what I know.” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s nose, then his cheek, then his jaw. “I’m not some dorky high school washout who’s only experience is you, I’m a rockstar and I’m going to rock your world.”

Steve let himself go boneless and his fingers tentatively stroked the skin on Eddie’s arms, his hands shaking from the pleasure.

“Let yourself go, Stevie,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’ll catch you, no matter how you fall.”

So Steve fell.

That night while Eddie was getting a shower, Steve called Robin.

He sat on the bed and tucked his knees under his chin, listening to the phone ring.

“I’m assuming since you didn’t call last night bawling your eyes out it went well?” Robin answered with a huff of laughter.

“Yeah,” Steve murmured. “We did talk first. About what we both wanted from the relationship and how to work as a team.”

“That’s good, Steve,” she said fondly. “I’m glad you’re getting everything you wanted.”

“Hey,” he said firmly, “don’t forget, I’m still buying you that car and once you graduate, I’m making you my personal assistant so you have to come with me wherever we go.”

“Deal.”

They ended up doing their little victory tour of their friends the next day, with them starting with Eddie’s bandmates.

The second they walked out on the veranda where the three other members of Corroded Coffin were having breakfast, Jeff burst out in a cheer while the other two moaned in despair.

“Ha!” he cried. “I win the bet!”

“I can’t believe it!” Gareth moaned into his hands. “I thought for sure it would take another week before they fucked like rabbits!”

Brian shook his head and said, “I didn’t think they would do anything. I figured they pine forever, if I’m honest.”

“Not with Stevie looking like that,” Jeff said shaking his ruefully. “He knew what he wanted and I had no doubt he was going to get it.”

“I saw them at the bar,” Gareth wailed. “I was so sure that they were going to admit their feelings for each other and then ease back into the sex now that they knew they were on the same page!”

Eddie and Steve looked at each other sheepishly. Because yes, that is exactly what they should have done. But with Steve looking like sin and Eddie like sex on legs, there was no way they were going to keep their hands off each other for any length of time.

They sat down at the table, blush high on Steve’s cheeks while Eddie’s grin was feral.

“What can I say?” Eddie said, picking up a menu. “I like making my little Canary sing.”

The blush on Steve’s cheeks deepened and crept up to his ears and down the column of his throat.

“Well,” Brian said, pulling out his wallet and handing Jeff a one hundred dollar bill, “I, for one am very happy for you both.”

Gareth slapped another hundred into Jeff’s other waiting hand. “Yeah, we really are happy you guys are together. Maybe female fans will stop throwing themselves at Eddie and give the rest of us poor bitches a passing glance.”

Jeff snorted, pocketing the money. “Not fucking likely. If I can’t get dates being the lead singer and Eddie being out as gay, Eddie having a very public boyfriend ain’t gonna change jack shit.”

“We’re doomed!” Gareth wailed dramatically, burying his head in hands.

“At least we won’t have albums worth of sad long songs,” Brian said cocking his head to the side ruefully.

Eddie smacked his shoulder. “Hey! I only wrote one album of sad songs after I broke up with Quinton thank you very much!”

“And three notebooks worth of absolute trash,” Jeff said rolling his eyes. “I was so grateful when Hunter came along because then we got the angry metal and that was some really good stuff.”

Steve shrunk in on himself. Hunter and Quinton? How many more guys were notches on Eddie’s bedpost.

Gareth’s eyes narrowed on Steve. “Hey, guys knock it off with the exes talk, we’re celebrating Steve and Eddie, not ragging on Eddie’s exes.”

Eddie looked over at Steve and wilted. “Baby, they’re exes for a reason, okay? You are not, and never will be like those assholes. It’s why I love you.” He pulled Steve close and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Yeah,” Brian said contrite, “I shouldn’t have brought it up, that was my dumb mistake.”

Steve just nodded and curled up into Eddie’s side, where he stayed until they finished breakfast.

They told the kids all at once, dragging everyone to the arcade with Eddie and Claudia in tow, almost daring the management to repeat the last time Steve brought the kids here. But management wisely said nothing and even put them in the event room for privacy.

Eddie getting positively gleeful about being able to splash his money around.

When it was time for pizza Dustin asked. “All right, this is fantastic and all but really, why are we here?”

There was some hissing from a couple of the other kids while Eddie and Steve laughed.

“We just wanted to tell everyone,” Steve said, gently taking Eddie’s hand, “that Eddie and I are officially going steady.”

“About time,” Mike huffed and then took a huge bite of his pizza. “We were starting to think you were gonna grow a fucking forest with all the pining that was going on.”

Will snorted and he hurried to cover it up, but it was too late. Everyone had heard him.

“Sorry!” he said with a grimace. “But he’s right! You guys have been dancing around each since Eddie got back and the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.”

Eddie and Steve looked at each other and then shrugged.

“To be fair,” Steve said dryly, “he was traveling on tour for a good portion of our relationship so that did put the breaks on it a bit.” He held up his finger and his thumb really close together.

“Will’s mom didn’t help either,” Max said with a wince. “Like if she hadn’t been harping about Steve getting a job, they probably would have gotten together soon after Eddie came back, instead of having to deal with the fall out of the attack on Steve.” She looked over at Will and then muttered, “Sorry, but it’s true.”

Will shrugged. “It’s true though. She hounded Steve and if she had backed off even a little things would have gone smoother for Eddie and him.”

“Thanks Will,” Steve said with a smile. “Are Nancy and Jonathan going to join us later?”

Will lit up and started talking about Jonathan and Nancy.

Steve just sat back, leaning into Eddie’s side, watching his kids having fun and just being themselves for awhile.

The parents were at once easier and harder then the kids. Claudia and the Sinclairs were happy for them, Sue couldn’t have care one way or another who Steve was fucking as long as he didn’t do it front of the kids, and the Wheelers were clearly pained, but openly supportive.

Hopper clapped Eddie on the shoulder. “You’re the only one I trust to take care of Steve,” he said as they had gone to sit on the porch for a smoke. Steve was inside with Ellie learning different plaiting methods because he wanted to braid Eddie’s hair.

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “I’m not sure I know what that means, but I’ll take it.”

Hopper shook his head. “It means that that boy has a big heart and he wears it on his sleeve. No matter who he dated, they were going to think he was too much. Everyone but you. Because if he love is the ocean, then you are the shore.”

Eddie blinked back tears. “Thanks. I really appreciate that. He means the world to me and I will make sure he’s as happy as I can make him.”

Hopper nodded and they both finished their cigarettes in silence, watching the sun set on the horizon.

Joyce came and sat down next to Steve, where he was practicing a French braid on Ellie’s hair.

“Are you sure this is what you want, Steve?” she asked gently.

Steve looked her dead in the eye. “Is it because he’s a man, because he’s rich, or because he’s Eddie fucking Munson, that you have a problem with him? Because I’ve never been able to pin it down exactly.”

Joyce bowed her head and then ran her hands over her face. She tapped Ellie’s shoulder. “Go see what Will wants for dinner.”

Ellie looked up at Steve and only when he nodded dis she stand up to do as Joyce asked.

“I wish I could say none of the above,” she said softly. “But it’s probably D- all of the above. And I’m really struggling with that because I know–” she stopped, a pained noise escaping her throat. “I suspect that Will is gay, too. And I’m going to have to come to terms with the fact that I will probably have a daughter-in-law and a son-in-law. But I don’t know how to do the right thing for him.”

Steve took her hand. “Just treat him and whoever he brings home the same way you would treat any girl Jonathan brings. And love him.”

She gave his hand a squeeze and nodded, choking back tears.

Wayne was thrilled that they had finally gotten together and promised them that his home would always be their safe harbor no matter where the wind took them.

Steve was happy to see Hawkins in the rearview mirror after the holidays. Eddie wanted to show him his house in LA to see where Steve really wanted to live, plus it was time for the band to get back into the studio for their next album.

As they boarded the plane that would take Steve far away from Indiana, he sighed. “I wish there was a way that I could give my dad the middle finger, you know?” He shook his head. “They say the best revenge is a life well lived. But it doesn’t do any good if he thinks I’m lying in a ditch somewhere.”

Eddie scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I think I have just the thing, baby.”

Steve was handed a stack of postcards and bright pink pen.

“Wherever we go,” Eddie said softly, “whatever we do, send your parents a postcard letting them know you’re out there having fun.”

Steve grinned up at him. “This in addition to that exclusive you gave Nancy?”

Eddie chuckled. The weekend after they landed in LA, Eddie sent out for Nancy and Jonathan to do a full spread article about being gay in the music industry, the AIDS crisis, and the announcement that Eddie and Steve were a couple. It had ran in every major newspaper in the country.

After The Hawkins Post got it for the first twenty-four hours.

There was no way his parents missed the picture of their son, cuddling up with the biggest metal star in the world.

Maureen walked to the mailbox in front of her large mansion in Hawkins. Honestly, she was thinking of asking Clint to just sell the place. It wasn’t as though they needed it and they were hardly there in the first place.

Even before this whole mess with the disaster with the Hagan boy.

She opened it up and sighed. She closed it again, stomping her foot. She huffed out another sigh and then opened the mailbox again.

She pulled out the only item in there and closed it again. She walked into the house and called out, “He sent us another one!”

Clint came barreling out of his office, like a bull on a rampage. “Where is that wastrel of a son now?”

Maureen turned over the card and read. “Looks like he’s in the Bahamas with Rob Lowe sipping on mai tais!”

“That the third one this month!” Clint bellowed. “First it was in Paris with Twiggy! Then it was with Cher in LA! He travels more than we do!”

Maureen burst out into tears. “I want to go to the Bahamas! You never take me anywhere nice anymore!”

Clint ripped the card out of her hand and tossed it on the growing pile of postcards. All from Steve. All of them with pictures of him on the lap of that depraved rockstar, Eddie Munson’s lap. All with the same message:

“Out here livin’ my best life thanks to you! XXX- Steve”

-The End

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @wheneverfeasible @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @themoonagainstmers @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt @just-a-tiny-void

8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts @steddieislife

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate @tartarusknight @genderless-spoon

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #age difference #ten years between steve and eddie

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frannyzooey · 1 year ago

Text

devour (the entire universe)

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: E (additional warnings: harvesting violence, mentions of gore and blood, mentions of cannibalism, love as consumption and all the visuals that come with it, so much fucking and filth and ass play and cum eating it isn’t funny)

My submission for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event, my giftee is @wannab-urs ❤ Merry Christmas, my lovely!

I was so excited when I was given your name (!!) - I absolutely love seeing you on my dash. I tried to take as many things from your list as possible, but the prompt "love as consumption" really inspired this piece. Having never written anything like this before, I really, really hope you like it. A million thank yous to @hier--soir who beta'ed this for me and also gave me the best inspiration and guidance - I couldn't have done it without them. Thank you also to @bageldaddy who put up with my terrible spelling and who always reminds me, in the best way, that less is more ❤

CYCLE ONE

The first time you saw him, he stumbled into the field you were working in. Your head snapping up at the sound of someone coming through the grass, you observed each other for a moment, each of your throwers raised.

“Now this is something I have never seen in all my time in The Green,” he said. “A little girl.”

Immediately bristling, indignation flashed across your face underneath the glass dome of your helmet. You resented being called that - a little girl. The open prejudice against women harvesters was well known and there was something about his tone that felt mocking in a way you loathed, so you didn’t even dignify his statement with an answer.

Instead, you held your ground.

The two of you locked in a silent standoff, he took you in with a tilt of his helmet, assessing the threat you posed. You did the same, taking in his battered yellow suit, his lithe but broad frame.

Eventually, he lifted his hands in acquiescence and turned, disappearing back into the thick vegetation.

“A little girl,” you muttered angrily to yourself. Gouging your shovel into the rough soil, you sneered at the remembrance of his tone – as if he was taken aback by your presence. As if you didn’t belong here.

Three weeks later, you understood the marvel in his initial statement.

A woman an anomaly on the Green, others saw you as an easy target. Strong-armed out of your gems for the third time in weeks, other harvesters used brute force against your own smaller frame. Repeatedly forcing you into submission, you started to hate both them and yourself; the cruel environment and even crueler inhabitants bending you until you almost broke.

It was at this point that he stumbled upon you again: only this time, he offered himself to your aid.

Impressed by your tenacity, he suggested a partnership: your nimble fingers paired with his protection.

Sitting in the dirt with your suit torn and your case gone, you knew it was foolish to reject his offer of protection, but you did it anyway.

Both of you knew it was pride talking.

He crouched down in front of you, bringing you face to face. “I don’t see you have much of a choice. Or perhaps you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

You narrowed your eyes in stubbornness. “What’s in it for you?”

He shrugged. “A companion.”

You stiffened, and he shook his head. “Not that sort of companion.” His eyes raked over your form, as if he could see anything under your bulky suit, coming back to your face with a raise of his eyebrows. “Unless you’re interested?”

Your face hardened. “Not a chance. Protection only. Even split.”

He thought for a moment, his face suddenly transforming into something amenable.

“Of course.”

CYCLE TWO

At first, you hated him.

Couldn’t stand the way he was always talking in that drawl of his, always spewing those endless sentences filled with nonsensical words and even less content. You had come to the Green to work alone in silence, after all. A concept he seemed to despise, given the way he wouldn’t fucking shut up.

Attempting to ignore his ceaseless talking in the days that followed, you thought all the time about breaking the partnership - especially when you saw just how deceiving he could be with those words of his. It was a resource, you reasoned, to have that type of deception on your side, but what was stopping him from deceiving you? Constantly questioning his true allegiance, you kept your guard up – until the fourth time someone tried to take what was yours.

He killed them.

No hesitation, no negotiating. Calculated yet with a glimpse of something feral underneath that flashed in his dark eyes with every plunge of his harvesting knife into the man’s chest, you held your breath as you watched him take out the threat. Your form was frozen, the heavy grunts of his struggle echoing through your helmet.

Chest heaving and fist gripping a blade covered in thick, dark blood when he rose, his breathing sounded heavy and labored through the radio. His deep voice crackled through, pulling you from your fog.

“It’s okay, Birdie. Keep digging.”

CYCLE THREE

Sharing a tent for logistical reasons, you had to get used to his…proximity.

The careless way he discarded his clothes around the small space, the constant crinkle of Bits Bars. The way he changed his clothes in front of you whether or not you averted your gaze. His scent that clung to everything in that tent: the thin pillow and blanket he gave you, the towels you dried yourself with, the clothing he lent you to sleep in.

Unused to having anyone in his presence, he was careless with his body and trying to give him some privacy (that he didn’t seem to want, nor need) you strained your eyes attempting not to look at his tanned skin every time he bared it. His body littered with evidence of survival, you wanted to touch every line of puckered skin with your fingertips just to see how it felt.

Attraction due to proximity, is what you told yourself.

Imagining the texture and heat of his skin, obsessing about the way his tongue peeked out to dart at his top lip when he was deep in concentration, staring at the size of his hands as he worked to daydream about how filling his fingers would feel inside you. The images haunted your every waking moment, and you tried to ignore them all, including the sleep thick mumbles that left his plush lips while he was dreaming at night.

The intimate sound drove you mad with arousal, even though you assumed they were nightmares that plagued him…until the sounds changed into something more desperate. Until he said your name, his hips shifting on his cot with intent.

Your pulse pounding in the dark, you slipped your hand beneath your waistband and delved your fingers deep into the silken wetness that greeted you.

Swirling, swirling, swirling, you joined him in his dreams.

CYCLE FOUR

Everything about your dynamic changed when he lost his arm.

Used to him being confidence brimming over, he turned into something else. Sullen, quiet. The silence you once craved too foreign to be comfortable, you tried to coax him out.

“You seem like you’ve been doing this a long time. Tell me about it.”

“How long have you been on your own? How many planets have you harvested on?”

“How did you get that blonde streak in your hair, is it a birthmark or something?”

Slowly inching yourself into the hole he’d lowered himself into, you settled in next to him, curling yourself into his still side.

Diving deep inside him to find the self-confidence you knew was buried deep, you cradled it carefully, nurturing it back to life. You modified his throwers for one armed use, stitched up the sleeve of his jumpsuit so it would stop flapping in the wind, helped him practice fighting techniques to learn a new way of throwing his lean strength around. When he had a setback in his healing, you bartered for more juice all on your own.

Carefully soaking his stump, he had avoided your gaze the whole time – or tried to, but you wouldn’t let him.

“Hey,” you murmured, his chin cupped in your hand. His dark eyes lifted to yours, and you held his gaze. “We’re still partners, right?”

He huffed in disgust, looking away. “A one armed man is of little benefit to you.”

“I decide what’s beneficial to me,” you challenged, the fierceness in your tone forcing the edge of his lips to tug up.

He said nothing as his eyes searched your face and you considered how this must be for him – a reversal of roles, an independent creature like him used to coming out on top. Scrambling and clawing and fighting for it, sure – only this time he lost, and with it, everything he knew.

Except you.

“I need you,” you said, reaching for his whiskered cheek to guide his face back to yours. “Partners. You and me, okay?”

“If you’d still have me, Birdie,” he offered, nodding in confirmation. “You and me.”

CYCLE FIVE

The first time you kissed, you were both drunk – and you did a lot more than kissing.

For a man still getting used to one arm, he fucked you senseless.

A bottle of…something found on the body of another harvester who saw Ezra’s missing arm and tried to take advantage, the two of you drank it in its entirety next to the still body left in the fight’s wake. Stumbling back to your tent with warmth spreading through your limbs to pool between your thighs, he saw your aching, restless want and matched it with his own.

Insatiable, filthy, depraved: you thought his inhibitions were gone along with the contents of the bottle, but it turns out he never had any.

Helmets tossed and clothes torn from each other’s bodies, his fingers left bruising marks in their wake paired with the ones pounded into the inside of your thighs from his rough thrusts that shifted the cot along the floor. He swallowed your guttural moans before matching them with his own, his teeth biting into the soft, pliant flesh that he found under the rough exterior of your suit.

Riddled with the marks of his desire, he watched you ride him until you cried out his name and then made you sit on his face, licking his own spend out from inside you.

Never stopping until you begged him for reprieve, he only let you sleep an hour before waking you up to do it all over again.

He fucked you anywhere you were willing to be fucked after that: in broad daylight against the hull of an abandoned pod, bent over his cot with his dirty t-shirt stuffed into your mouth, right in the loose soil of a dig once.

Introducing you to so much more than you had experience with, he drew every debased fantasy out of you, and then made it come true with his fingers, mouth and cock. Wondering where he’d even learned the things he knew, he regaled you with more tales of his travels, only this time he told you about the interactions of a different kind.

A brothel, specializing in bondage.

A woman who had trained her gag reflex, and then bringing in a friend, had shown Ezra how to train his as well.

A bounty hunter once, who refused to take off his helmet.

“It was thrilling, not being able to see his face,” he mused, a delighted smile stretching his cheeks. “He came more than anyone I have ever been with. Filled my mouth full of his milky desire.”

He stopped there with a fond expression, lost in reminiscing.

“Sounds like you don’t need me anymore,” you teased. “You should go find your tall drink of bounty hunter, and –”

A smirk graced his face, and he rolled you onto your back to settle above you. “I love my gems golden colored, but I love them green as well.” He winked. “Come now, my envious Birdie. I’ll always need you.”

CYCLE TEN

You learned to move as one - both inside the tent and out.

Alone for months, you shifted with each others every movement, as if your bodies were connected just like the frequency of your helmets. Every tell of his showed plain through his suit, every mood shift of yours was met with a lift of his eyebrow.

Every beat of time spent in the presence of one another all merged and blended into one timeline: before, and after Ezra.

Before, there was insignificance, and after, there was only him.

Love seemed too simple a word, too small for what you felt. You shared a heartbeat, a body, a mind — something more than just love. It was crushing and all consuming, something that took root deep inside you and branched out to connect with his own limbs. You needed a better word than love to describe your devotion.

Something that dripped in reverence and coated your tongue just like he did.

“Have you ever cared for someone so much you wanted to consume them? Swallow a piece of them whole, to keep within you forever?”

Love as consumption, he called it.

You were used to his musings by now, the knowledge that he’d gathered over a lifetime of travels pouring out of his generous, plush mouth. Your bodies squeezed together on his cot, your skin was bare and sweat damp with exertion, your limbs intertwined with his. “There is something romantic about it, don’t you think? Wanting their body within yours.”

“Your body is already within mine nearly every night,” you teased, and he pinched the tip of your nose, grinning.

“Too true, little bird. Too true.” His face shifted from playful to something subdued. “But you know what I mean.”

“Is that what you want me to do?” Your thumb traced a line across his eyebrow, your fingers seeking out the patch of white in his hairline just above. “Want me to slice a piece of you off and eat it?”

He ignored the grimace on your face. “Which part of me would you choose?”

The question was phrased in such a way that you could tease him again, but you knew he wanted a real answer, not a playful one.

“Well…” you thought, lacing your fingers with his to bring them to your mouth. “I have always loved these. But to leave you with any less fingers would just be cruel.”

He huffed a laugh, his eyes fixed on the way your mouth molded around his knuckles as you gave them a kiss. Letting go, your touch drifted to dance along the blunt edge of his stump.

“Maybe a piece from here?”

He frowned. “You’d take even more from me, in a place I am already lacking?”

Your voice dropped an octave, your own expression turning solemn. “It was horrible, what we had to do. I hate thinking about it: the weight of your arm as it dropped away, the pain you were in.” You found his dark eyes, holding his gaze as you stroked the puckered flesh. “I want to carve a piece out right here, just to rewrite the memory of it. A gift from you to me, rather than something I took.”

“You took nothing that I did not beg you to take.”

The double meaning in his words – like all of them – wasn’t lost on either of you.

“Only you would make amputation sound so romantic.”

He smiled, and you dug your fingers into the firm round of his shoulder, pulling his body to lie on top of yours. Cradled safely between your plush thighs, his hips immediately rocked forward with intent.

His head dipped to nuzzle his nose against your own. “It’s easy to be a romantic with a muse such as you.”

Catching him with a kiss, your lips locked as he slid his tongue inside the wet cavern of your mouth and you breathed him in, winding your arms around his neck to keep him in place. Your fingers slid up through the crown of his mussed, shortly cropped hair and he relaxed on top of you, deepening the kiss.

“I would give you my arm if I could.”

You whispered your confession as his mouth covered your pulse with a harsh suck, and whined when he answered with a sharp bite: his incisors pinching your delicate flesh. His hot breath ghosted humid over your skin as he searched for another spot, biting down on the other side of your slim neck.

Arching underneath him, you continued. “I would cut it off and give it to you.”

He found the tender underside of your breast, catching it between his teeth and groaned, soothing the bite with a broad sweep of his tongue before continuing down the plane of your body.

“I would give you anything, Ez. Anything.”

Mindless with lust from the sharp edges of his love, you writhed underneath him, hitching your knees higher along his torso. His strong muscles flexed and shifted under the squeeze of your legs, and he forced them open to spread your legs wider. Questing, his mouth sought out the tender skin along the curve of your hip with another bite.

“Fuck,” you breathed, pushing your fingers through his hair to guide him lower.

Situating his broad shoulders between your thighs, his mouth devoured.

Wide open to catch everything you gifted him, his tongue slid smoothly through your folds to collect every slip of arousal that dripped out, his throat bobbing with a swallow before going harder. His hunger shifted you up the cot, the lower half of his face buried inside your aching cunt and when his tongue found your clit with a smooth, forceful grind, you shamelessly begged for more.

“Harder. Eat it harder.”

He growled, his fingers digging into your flesh to tug you tight against his face and a hoarse cry crawled out of your throat – one that broke into an astonished cry when he pulled back just to bite into the plush, smooth skin of your inner thigh. This one drew blood – you could feel the hot slip of it against your skin, his kisses smeared with it. Ignoring the blossoming throb of pain, you asked him to do it again.

He did, right at the same time he slid two fingers inside you with a filling stretch and joining your hand with his, he rested his cheek on your inner thigh and watched as your fingers breached your slick warmth together. A finger of your own and one of his, then two of your own and two of his - your hands worked together, as they always have. His face right next to the liquid warmth coating the digits, his tongue joined to lap at your clit.

Obscene sounds filled the small tent: the audible slick sound of your cunt accepting his fingers over and over again, your higher pitched moans blending with his lower ones. Keeping his fingers tucked snugly inside, his mouth lowered down between your cheeks to slide against your asshole and he ate you there with abandon as well, your thighs dropping open wider to give him more room.

When his mouth found your clit again with a suck, the impulse to be eaten alive by him spread thick and warm through your hips, weighing heavily in your core. Propelled higher and higher with every pump of his fingers, the image of his blood soaked mouth as his teeth tore into your pulse made you pitch forward into your release, your body bowing against the thin cot.

Breathless and still riding a pulsing wave, you begged him. “Come up here and fuck me.”

He obeyed immediately, letting his weight push the air from your lungs just before his mouth stole the rest. His kisses soaked in desperation, his cock notched thick and stiff at your entrance, and you accepted him within you without any resistance. Fucking you with harsh snaps of his hips, your fingers dug into the meat of his ass and surrounded in his warmth with the light blacked out by his broad frame, your lips found a home on his bicep that flexed taut next to your cheek.

Your body cradled within his, the humid air around you pulsing with life. The rhythmic woosh of his strong heartbeat, the safety you’d feel within the damp darkness, finally joined as one.

His strokes snapped harder, his own want matching yours. His mouth ached to bite your soft lips, to nibble on the skin until it broke under the force of his love.

His harvesting knife slipped between his ribs to crack them open, gifting you everything held inside. Feeding you bits and pieces of his heart, watching the muscle that’s only ever beat for you disappear between your lips.

“Where do you want it, Birdie?” he begged above you, his mouth molding around the hinge of your jaw, tasting the sweet skin there. “I’m gonna come. Shit – shit. Where do you want it?”

“Inside me.”

A shudder slipped through his body as he came with a loud, sated groan, his hips forcing themselves into the cradle of your thighs to bury it as deep as possible – but he wasn’t done. He was never done, when it came to you. Before he could catch his breath, he slid his softening cock from your warmth and replaced it with his fingers, crooking them to gather the milky spend.

Bringing them up to your mouth, he fed it to you.

Glistening tendrils of release coated his fingers and your lips, smeared across your tongue when he forced them into your mouth and then sliding them out, he kissed you deeply, savoring your joined taste. He gathered more, this time shifting his touch to the tight ring of your ass and he pushed some in there as well, your hips arched up to accept it.

Sweat, spend, blood: he consumed them all and likewise fed them to you. Hours slipped by, his appetite for you insatiable: forcing you onto your hands and knees to eat you roughly from behind, filling your ass with his cock before pulling out to spill hot across your lower back, smearing it over your skin like a balm, his fingers tacky with it when he wrapped them around your slender throat and made you take him again. Riding him, your fingers sought out the wet heat of his mouth and he kissed and nibbled on them, before drawing them in with a suck.

The vast universe outside the tent was a threatening thing: harsh and unforgiving, ruthless and deadly. Inside the tent, tendrils of filthy intimacy surrounded your bodies as you orbited each other, creating your own universe between the sweat damp press of your bodies.

“You and me,” he breathed under you, his teeth catching on the pads of your fingers and you dropped down, resting your mouth just under the whiskered curve of his jaw. His pulse a rapid beat under the skin, you relished the strength held just under the surface.

“You and me,” you replied, your mouth opening wide.

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra prospect x reader #pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories

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yjhzies · 10 months ago

Text

“Mr. Blushing Boo.” — Boo Seungkwan

⸝⸝୭ ˚. fluff . crack . self-indulgent

⋆ pairings : seungkwan x gn!reader ⋆ warning : not proof-read, mentions of a ghost (not literally) ⋆ wc : 0.8k [✉️] · when you're bf hates you addressing him by his full name, but he is down bad for you.

⋆ - note : DON'T WE JUST LOVE A LOSER BOO 😼 he is so cute i couldn't shake this thought off so I'll share some of my delulu-ness <3 also my first seungkwan fic! this man is wrecking me so hard it's not even a joke anymore, hannie is shivering timbering in his boots 💔🙏

"I swear, this recipe said 'easy'."

Seungkwan groaned in frustration, scowling at the recipe book on the counter in front of him and reaching out to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand.

You let out a small laugh, handing him a tissue. "Use this, stinky."

Huffing out a breath, he took the tissue from your grasp while rolling his eyes and sneering. He returned his gaze to the recipe book, his face painted with an unimpressed expression.

"Baby, can you bring me the flour?" He said, not taking his eyes off the book as he began mixing the batter in a bowl.

"Ah, okay," you say, washing your hands and walking over to the cabinet.

You extended your hand to unlock the cabinet and then grabbed the flour bag. Your hands were shaky from the weight, and you prayed that it wouldn't fall. Just as you gradually took it out over your head—

boom.

You just stood there dumbfounded with flour all over your face, not even bothering to scream. You blow the flour from your lips away.

"I heard a sound, are you oka-"

Seungkwan arrived on the other side of the kitchen and called out, only to stand there with his mouth agape. He looked you up and down, then burst out laughing.

"Baby-" He squealed, leaning on the counter to support himself and keep from falling. You scowled at him. However, you could not suppress the small giggle that escaped your lips when you saw him laughing.

His hands move away from the counter, causing him to roll on the ground as he laughs.

"What a boyfriend," you murmured under your breath, amused by the sight of your boyfriend rolling on the floor, laughing instead of helping you.

"Come and help me now, will you?"

With a gasp for breath, he opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out as he began laughing once more.

You stood there, looking stupid like a ghost. With a sneer, you inhale deeply, prepared to scare your beloved boyfriend half to death.

"Boo Seungkwan!"

He paused at the full ass goverment name, and perked up his head to look at you. His eyes widened as if they were about to pop out, and his lips pursed.

"Come and help me." Your tone was firm, and Seungkwan pushed himself off the floor and dashed straight to you. He picked up the flour bag and set it on the table before taking a cloth to wipe your face.

With a pout on his lips and his eyes fixed on your cheek, he gently started wiping the flour off your face. You knew it was because you addressed him by his full name. He obediently followed your words as you tried not to laugh at his pout.

"Baby," he said quietly, staring at his hand. "I'm sorry for laughing earlier..."

"I swear I didn't mean it! you see, it was just really funny seeing you covered in f-" He paused and raising his head to study your expression before lowering it once more. "Okay, I'll shut up."

But he flinches as you grab his face and peck his lips. As he digests what happened, his eyes enlarge.

"You're so cute, boo." You grin, squishing his pink-dusted cheeks. Unlike him, he smiled shyly and looked down, like a shy high school boy facing his crush.

"Aw, should I name you Mr. Shy Boo?"

He giggled lightly as you called him Boo. Suddenly shy to touch you, he reached out to hold the fabric of your shirt on the sides of your waist.

It was one of those goldy moments when you fluttered THE Boo Seungkwan's heart. Because, first thing, there has not been a day when he has not side-eyed you if you are being clingy more than usual (he actually enjoys it and gives in after acting whiny), and second, he will be teasing and poking you every chance he gets, so you are the one who is giddy at the end of the day. But that doesn't stop you from knowing his weaknesses.

"No, just call me boo..." With a slight smile on his face, he mumbled and leaned in to place his head on your shoulder while placing his hands lightly on your hips.

Reaching out, you take his hands in yours, adjusting it so that it encircles your waist before you put your own arms around his neck.

"Guess what, boo?"

"Mm?"

"+1 for my collection."

"Huh? what collection?"

"The Blushing Boo collection!" You giggled, and suddenly Seungkwan is side eyeing you. He raised his head to intensify the glare, which appeared more like to a pout.

"You don't like it? should I change it to Boo Seungkwan?"

"Don't call me that." With a light foot stomp, he let out a whine. "The name boo sounds much better from your mouth."

"So can I name the collection as blushing boo?" You grinned.

He huffed with a hint of smile, and shrugged. "Whatever."

"Got it, Mr. Blushing Boo!"

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beastofburdenxo · 1 year ago

Text

Consider It Done

Tommy kidnaps his biggest enemy's daughter as payback. But, things aren't always what they seem.

Allusions of violence, mention of abuse, no smut.

You woke up in what looked like a dreary basement. Your throat was dry, and your head felt funny. All you remember is just walking down the street and having a wet rag being shoved over your face from behind. Assuming that it was chloroform, because you were knocked out immediately after that.

You hear a door being opened and someone walking down the stairs. For some reason, you dash into a dark corner, thinking that it was going to save you. An oil lamp is turned on, illuminating the space and the man before you. "There you are love, glad to see you up and alert." A cigarette is lit. "Would you like a smoke?" You ignore the question altogether and respond with one of your own. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"My name is Thomas shelby Love, but you can call me Tommy. I hate meeting like this. It's nothing personal, really, just business. Your father owes me money and isn't taking me seriously, so I did what I had to do."

Your eyes bug out at this information. Of course, your asshole father has made another enemy. And the feared Tommy shelby, the devil of small heath, at that. "And you think taking me will loosen him up? He'd rather die than give up anything of his. To him, people are replaceable, money not so much. I'm sorry that you put in so much work to get me, but honestly, he's probably glad I'm out of his hair."

"Is that right? What a shame that is." Tommy draws off his cigarette. "Such a pretty thing, kidnapped and taken to the devil's mansion, thrown in a basement never to be seen again. Surely he loves you more than that, dear."

"The man killed all of my pets when I refused to marry one of his gross friends. He has burned my clothes before, locked me out of the house. Trust me, Tommy, he doesn't care. He has never liked me and I don't know why."

"You are like a wild horse that can't be broken, and your father can't stand it. You won't bend to his will like most and from where I'm standing, it's like you are his enemy and not his daughter. I'd take it as a compliment. If he liked you, that would mean that you two are similar. I have no desire to harm you, I'll behave if you do. Give it a couple of days, and if he doesn't budge, you are free to go. I'll even give you money for a ticket anywhere you want to go."

You think for a moment. "So you don't want to hurt me? You'd rather help me out?"

Tommy nods, "I see a lot of myself in you. In fact, you promise to be good, I'll let you out of here and into the house. Take it as a mini vacation, time to think. If your father does pay up, you'll still get that ticket out if you'd like. Regardless of what he does or doesn't do, it won't affect you."

You reach for a cigarette, and Tommy obliges. "I can't just leave my mom alone with his ass. He's mean to her too, Tommy. He needs to pay for his sins sooner rather than later."

Tommy chuckles, "You'd make one hell of a peaky blinder. Fiesty and headstrong. Are you looking for a new job, perhaps?"

"Tommy, I'm serious," you reply, "I'd say my mom would give anything for him to be gone. If you took care if it, you'd get your money and then some. It would have to be discreet of course."

"Kidnap victim asking her kidnapper to put a hit out on her own father? That's a new one for me, love. It does sound tempting, I will say. Never had much use for an abusive wife beater."

You stand up with a new sense of purpose. "Either you do it, or when I get out, l will do it myself!"

Tommy comes towards you like he's going to grab you, but he stops himself from touching you. "No, I can't have that. There's no need for an innocent to have blood on her hands. If you aren't successful, he will kill you, love. He won't think twice about it."

Tommy finally reaches out and gently stokes your face, "I don't want the fire to go out of your pretty eyes. Killing a man does that to a person, and you don't deserve that. If you want it done, consider it done. Consider yourself a partner in this and not a helpless victim. My only wish is that once this is all over, I can see you again. With permission, this time, of course. Let me do things the right way. Dinner?"

"Kidnapper asking his victim to dinner once she is released? That's a new one for me Tommy."

You take the cigarette from his mouth, since yours is long gone, and take a drag as if to think about it.

"Consider it done."

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader

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dcoasis · 1 year ago

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Usually the reactions to this comic are “lmao this is so weird” and I’m so used to comic books deaths that I accept it as such and then you just-

“Today, live as though you have no enemies.”

“Call your loved ones.”

“What can any of us do when forced to confront the fact that death is random and cruel and sudden?”

“Sometimes being brave is knowing when the fight's been enough.”

I’m never looking at this comic the same again

And they talked. For hours. And I wonder what they said. We know Batroc didn't reform but I think...I think he made a promise to Steve, even if only in his own mind. Batroc has both feet over the line. He's a villain. But he can see the light without straining, and he will go no further. No action he will take will do harm to those who do no wrong, no blood shall he spill or heartache shall he spread. That's the promise Batroc made, I think. He swears to only ever be the villain of a better world, a kinder world. The kind of enemy Captain America deserves. Captain America 443

#me seeing the silly Ironman suit cap on my dash and patiently waiting for u to get to the batroc part #spoiler: he retired but came back when Steve did #I think his inability to see himself as a hero has smth to do with his French army days. but #he’s a man of his word #batroc also philosophizes about Steve #I remember in Gwenpool Batroc notes that the world is not safer place because of Steve. Steve struggles for nothing.#Batroc is right. it’s comics. there has to be another disaster. more deaths. the world cannot be safer.#but he also notes in Black Cat that he admires Steve and thinks heroes are nobler than everyone #so he doesn’t just admire his skill and enjoy being his enemy. he sees him as a great person trying his best in a horrible world #he values him #even here you can see how much he cares #I remember being a bit mad at Steve #here he complains his villains never reform and when he comes back he gets mad at Batroc for going back #i suppose im too used to characters who are constantly going ‘you can change’ to villains #but Batroc is possibly one of the most reformable villains #he will switch sides when things get bad. he saved Steve’s life. he admires heroes. even fufuilled that promise.#in multiple canon AUs he will be payed to be good and continues the work after the job is over. even when he will likely die #I dont think it’s a permanent state. he found a temporary purpose. he LIKES being bad. but like. can u TRY Steve.#I keep doing that lol. I read Hulk and got attached to Betty then got mad at Bruce when he complained about being used by her #after she spent her entire life being used including by him #Steve going ‘ugh this guy’ after I watched Batroc devote so much to him 😐 (im biased)#batroc ready to let Steve go at the low low price of letting him win a fight but he says no and now he got a whole colosseum on him #(last time they saw each other Batroc saved his life at the risk of his dangerous buddies turning on him and losing his reputation)#I WANTED Steve to get his ass beat after that #Batroc only outright fights next to Steve (or tries to) but subtly helps heroes like gambit gwenpool and capt. Britain #I think he particularly has a soft spot for villains going good #he tried to reason with Kitty Pryde instead of fighting her then was cool when she dumped him off the side of a ship #my sweet little dude #funny thing is the only person Batroc has been shown to truly hate is Hawkeye. everyone else it’s just a job sorry. he wants Hawkeye dead.#anyway infodump over

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a-twistedheartslonging · 8 months ago

Note

Non-human Riddle being a bunny is funny.

Cuz they do the THUMP thing when they get angry.

Imagine Ace fucks up and he hears “ACE TRAPPOLA!!!” And a lot of thumping.

He is JUMPING FROM THE NEAREST WINDOW AND DASHING TO RAMSHACKLE (he gets caught)

Also that means Riddle gives some MEAN KICKS. Buddy kicks you and you can say bye bye to your ribs.

Or what would be better, Riddle is a bunny but Deuce is a hare. Hare’s have more of a haunting look in their eyes and those can be more menacing, not to mention their fights. So Deuce, even tho he’s trying to pass as a simple bunny, has this terrifying look in his eyes when he glares.

An angry bunny boy chasing after a terrified fox boy has so much irony and I love it, on top of angry thumps when a bunny I had was pissed they made a sort of gurgling hiss noise.

The kicks would hurt but it would be worth it to touch those soft adorable fluffer thumpers.

My god the size difference.

and them big ass ears, damn Deuce. No one is gonna see shit if they sit behind you in class.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ask #asks #nonhuman au

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 2 months ago

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I can (and will!) talk at length about all the issues with Yasmine & Demetri as a romantic/sexual dynamic, but one of the biggest underlying problems is that it fundamentally misunderstands why women are attracted to intelligent men.

I'm putting this under a Read More so it doesn't eat peoples' dash, but I HIGHLY encourage all my followers to read it, even if y'all are just here for the funny memes and Gay Shit. As a woman, I think the show AND fandom's questionable treatment of Yasmine as a character and how it makes me and other irl women feel incredibly uncomfortable and objectified is important to talk about. Way, WAY too many people are okay with how the Yasmine-Demetri relationship was portrayed, and knowing people are that chill with a female character being turned into a man's accessory makes me feel, um. Unsafe at best. Read on if you love women and drink your Respect Women juice!

Anyways, I feel I have some room to speak on why women like Demetri-esque guys. Although I eventually realized I'm a lesbian, I identified as bisexual for a long time. Before that, in high school, I didn't even realize I liked girls at all. Ironically, I used to be into boys a lot like Demetri. I tended to pursue the smart, sarcastic, gangly nerd types, sometimes to my own detriment! I once liked a whole ass physics major who could easily solve equations that would send me into a stress coma on sight. I dated a premed in college, and for much of that relationship, I was wracked with insecurity that I would only ever be known as that person's girlfriend, with no significant renown or accomplishments to my own name. I pined after lots of guys I perceived as smarter than me, and constantly felt unworthy of them because I didn't think my own intellect measured up. Especially as someone who's never been attracted to "traditional" masculinity (so himbo types and muscles do nothing for me, lmao), I know the draw of sharp, witty guys who keep you on your toes and have interesting and often unique stuff going on in their brains.

From what I've observed, there's two main reasons why (non-lesbian) women crush on this kind of dude. The first is they make fun, engaging conversationalists, and can have complex and thought-provoking discussions with you. If you spend a lot of time in your head, pondering the world around you, it's nice to find someone who also thinks deeply about similar things and can explore those cognitive threads with you. It makes you feel seen and understood, and it's stimulating! Sometimes the other person can introduce you to new ideas that take you in new directions, too, so it's the dynamic that keeps on giving. This was always my own draw toward smart men, personally.

The other reason is more pragmatic. Smart men (especially coding CS/robotics type guys like Demetri) are more likely to get secure, 6-figure jobs. When you consider the widening wage gap between men and women as well as how difficult misogyny can make it for women to get into high-paying fields like technology, robotics, and other hard sciences, dating or marrying a guy making 100k can be a woman's ticket out of poverty. Or at the very least a financial improvement. With the wealth gap increasing in the USA and many other parts of the world, dating "up" to try and gain a bit more financial security is...well, I don't want to make ethics judgments on it (condemning gold-digging??? In THIS economy???), but it IS understandable.

All this to say that neither of these aspects apply to Yasmine and Demetri's relationship in the least.

Yasmine and Demetri don't have enough common interests to have ANY kind of stimulating conversation, and the ones we see certainly do not read that way for either, lmao. They have little shared ground aside from being kind of sassy and mean and having suffered wedgies at some point. There's a bit of banter in Season 3, but it's not particularly witty or deep. It's largely just...fairly surface-level meanness and easy digs. Yasmine makes a jab about not wanting to talk to Demetri regularly, and he makes a jab about her decreasing popularity and a poor taste sex joke. Yasmine tells him his cast smells and calls him a defective freak and a pain in her tits. Demetri calls her Cruella DeVil. It's amusing and maybe even a little endearing, but that's primarily because it has the potential to grow into something deeper and more fun as these two get to know each other better.

And then it stops completely. No more banter whatsoever after Season 3. Every interaction Demetri and Yasmine have in Season 4 and Season 6 is just Yasmine being a sickly sweet, giggly, horny cheerleader for Demetri, revolving her entire person around his likes and interests while making no mention of her own. For fuck's sake, the only times she gets upset with him is when, *gasp*, he's not believing in himself enough! Or when he cheated, obviously, but even that was easily resolved by gift-bombing her with Stereotypical Woman Things until she was back to being inexplicably insane with lust.

Also worth a mention that the show makes a point about how Demetri is a lot academically smarter than Yasmine, so Yas likely wouldn't be capable of having a conversation he considered stimulating or interesting anyways. I don't care how much Demetri lies his ass off about how Totally Into Conventionally Hot Girls he is--he mostly doesn't seem to give a fuck about them except when not responding to their interest in him would make him look weird to his peers.

I also do not believe for a second that Demetri would ever actually want a partner not on his level of (traditional academic) intelligence. We see him act snide and condescending toward people he views as dumber than him--Chris when he first joins Miyagi Do, and Johnny on a few occasions throughout the show. He consistently treats his closest friends (namely Eli, Miguel, and Sam) as intellectual equals, but I don't think he really sees Yasmine that way. Ironically, he treats Moon, the crystal healing chakra granola girl, with more respect and dignity than his own girlfriend!

Unsurprisingly, the only person Demetri seems to view as truly on his level of intelligence is Eli. We learned all the way back in Season 2 that they won a coding competition together, showing they're both very smart and capable in a conventional and easy-to-recognize way (which seems to be the type of intelligence Demetri values above all other types). He doesn't think twice about them going to MIT together because he assumes they'll both get in. They make a fucking karate fight VR together and then squabble about the technical details in a way Demetri physically couldn't squabble (or even TALK) like that with anyone else. Demetri praises Eli's design abilities and gloats about how the physics "checks out" on his sparring deck. Demetri rambles to Eli about his Terry Silver internet deep dive, and Eli nods along like he actually follows what Demetri is saying. And Demetri, presumably, volunteers it in the first place and doesn't mince tech jargon because he also assumes Eli will understand. When Demetri chews Eli out for not applying to MIT, he angrily accuses him of "turning into a moron"--a thing that, from Demetri's POV, seems just about the worst possible thing someone can be.

Nothing we see of S1-S3 Yasmine indicates she has any reason whatsoever to find the things Demetri talks about, or his CS and robotics interests, appealing. Yasmine either actively doesn't care for academics or she struggles with them, viewing them with dismissive contempt because they make her feel inadequate.

Recall how back in S1, she reacts with scorn and disgust when Sam and Aisha are making chemistry jokes. But there's more than just disdain for the uncool "nerds" there--Yasmine also looks uncomfortable and embarrassed. In a sense, the sodium chloride thing IS an "in joke" between the book smart Sam and Aisha. Yasmine feels excluded, outed as someone not "in the know" because she doesn't quite get the reference. It puts up a barrier (dare I say...a gate, even? That Sam and Aisha can keep? Lol) between Yasmine and her peers, one of whom is her friend, and makes it harder for her to relate to and interact with them. No coincidence, imo, that Yasmine gets more malicious in her bullying toward Aisha after this, i.e. more direct fat jokes and the "cheeto pig" thing. It's jealousy and insecurity that Sam and Aisha have this commonality and more "sophisticated" interest that Yasmine can't be included in.

And then there's Season 3, where Yasmine is pleasantly surprised that with Demetri's assistance, her parents "won't have to pay for her A this time." We can gather from this that either a) Yasmine sees herself as "above" the banality of schoolwork, and finds it easier just to make doe eyes at her parents until they bribe her teachers or b) Yasmine genuinely struggles with academics but doesn't deem it "worthy" of putting in the work to actually get better, so she takes the easy way out with money. She might have some insecurity around not being great in school, as shown by the S1 sodium chloride scene and her genuine disappointment when her and Demetri's science project is ruined. Maybe she was planning on using Demetri's success to show off to her parents that "look! I CAN do my own work without your help!" Maybe she enjoys being seen as a competent student, and worries losing her fake good grades would make her look stupid and inept. This could knock her even lower down the social food chain, further isolating her and opening her up to ostracization from her peers. All things being equal, though, we don't have much reason to believe Yasmine cares much about school in of itself. It's a means to an end for her--just one more thing that affects her reputation, and where school performance can improve or detract from it.

In any case, it's clear Yasmine does not VALUE academics, hard work, and dedication the same way Demetri does. Demetri makes a BIG deal about how much he busted his ass to get into MIT and "earned his spot," while Yasmine only enjoys the image of academic success and having As and the way it makes her look good, while not giving a shit about what it actually represents.

Cut to S4 and S6, where Yasmine is now, completely out of left field, highly invested in and enthusiastic about Demetri's interests. Between snubbing him in the hallway last time we saw her to maybe a couple months later at max, she has become seemingly enraptured with all things Demetri. She loves when he talks nerdy! She is incredibly stoked about supporting him at his karate tournaments, and even chews him out when he doesn't have enough faith in himself! She ditched her dad's wedding halfway around the world because he's more important! She makes her junior prom dress a nerdy movie reference to Jessica Rabbit! All the while making, of course, naught a peep about her own interests, goals, passions, etc. At first glance, it looks like Demetri's been exceptionally lucky to find a hot girl who is somehow equally as gung ho about all the same things as him, and it coincidentally only came out after she started dating a nerd that she happens to share all his passions. Except...Yasmine does not have any discernible reason to like any of Demetri's interests.

"But tumblr user demetriandelibinaryboyfriends!" you say. "A few weeks have passed in TV show time! Is it not possible that Yasmine engaged with and grew invested in Demetri's nerd shit and karate offscreen?" Theoretically possible, yes, but due to all the S1 and S3 actual onscreen canon scenes we get of Yasmine, it's incredibly illogical and unlikely. I'd be more forgiving of this ship if Yasmine was in any way set up as a closet nerd, or secretly intrigued by the karate she loved scorning in S1 (and flat out ignoring in S3, and basically S5, too).

As established in the S1 pre-halloween dance cafeteria scene I mentioned, Yasmine has no love for academic nerdiness. References to school shit she doesn't understand appear to make her feel uncomfortable and alienated. In S3, Yasmine only enjoys Demetri's nerdiness insofar as it can help her get a good grade. We're given no reason to believe she would like his smarts beyond that. Hell, even when we see them first making out, it's after we've seen them bond over their experience as bullying victims, not because Demetri suddenly changed Yasmine's mind about how interesting math and coding and dinosaurs are! Yasmine isn't shown to be into pop culture type nerdiness, either, with not a single "geeky" reference to her name. (Besides Jessica Rabbit, I guess, but even that might well have been a thing she was doing FOR Demetri rather than herself. Hell, she's never shown ANY particular interest in movies, and reads much more like a music girlie, if the pop music playing when she crashed her car, the little boombox we see in her bedroom, and the S1 concert she goes to with Moon are anything to go by.) Her sense of humor is more dry and dark, too, like the S1 snide remarks she makes about her and the girls being "chained up in that meth-head's basement" if she hadn't driven away from Johnny. Or her blase scheme to "torture" Anthony.

As for karate, Yasmine actively sticks her nose up at it in S1. She essentially straight up tells Aisha that she and her "karate gang" will always be freak outcasts. In S3 and S5, Yasmine makes no mention of karate that I can recall, and doesn't even have much of a reaction when the fight breaks out at the waterpark. If anything, she seems apathetic, bored, and kind of annoyed, because karate just keeps getting in the way of her Hot Girl Summer XD She never asks Sam much about karate, either, even when Moon does. Hell, even in S4, Yasmine makes one (1) comment about being bummed she won't be there to root for Demetri, before...proceeding to fly back for the prom and not stay for the AVT. Yasmine only manages to muster up any interest in karate when directly interacting with Demetri, and ceases to care about it whenever he's gone. So, clearly, it's not something she finds interesting outside of its relation to her boyfriend.

Which brings me to my next point: When you look closely, the way Yasmine hypes up Demetri's interests and passions does not suggest any deeper care or understanding. The things she says relating to how much she "loves" all things Demetri are...exceptionally non-committal and surface level. "I love it when you talk nerdy!" or "You're more important than my dad's wedding!" or "you have no idea how much I like you!" are all easy things to say, but the underlying why--as well as any details that back up or flesh out these statements--is always missing. We have no reason to believe Yasmine sincerely means what she's saying. She reads like she's going through the motions, almost placating Demetri by telling him what she thinks he wants to hear and nothing more. Yasmine has decided that it's in her best interest and the best thing for her reputation to go out with a fairly popular, well-liked athlete--likely to get back some of the popularity she lost after The Wedgie Incident™️. So she says what she believes she needs to and acts accordingly in order to keep Demetri around. But her supposed zeal for all things geeky, all things karate, and Demetri himself vanishes as soon as he's not around, with Yasmine not making a peep about any of these in S5. Even her pep talk in S6 is ultimately Yasmine trying to convince Demetri to put off their date--perhaps she's looking for an excuse to not have to see him more than she absolutely has to?

And make no mistake--this complete and utter disinterest in their partner's brain and personality goes both ways. Yasmine is, contrary to what the jabs CK makes about her being "book dumb" would have you believe, NOT unintelligent. She has a significant amount of cunning and people smarts, seeing as there's no possible way for her to have EVER been the school queen bee without them. She has good intuition about people who might be dangerous, like Johnny (with his yelling and aggressively slamming on the car door) and Lynn (with her demanding money and a very unconvincing "I ain't gonna hurt ya!"). Yasmine comes up with a convincing cover story about why her Range Rover is totaled. Hell, even her scheme about how to use Anthony's attraction to her to fuck with his head shows she knows how to be manipulative, and is the type of detailed "longcon" that she simply wouldn't have the capacity to plan and pull off if she was truly nothing but a ditz. The issue is that Yasmine is not a type of intelligent that Demetri really cares about or values.

In S1, he DOES seem to respect Yasmine's power and influence, and basically says "I don't think I'm cool enough to be talking to you" the one time they do interact. By S3, though, Yasmine has mostly lost her power and influence--and Demetri directly says as much! Now, his interest in Yasmine seems to be all about her looks. Less because Demetri particularly cares how hot a girl is--I don't think he's attracted to women at all, as I've said in many of my posts--but because of the social capital he gains simply by having a conventionally attractive blonde white girl as his arm candy. And (ironically much like Yasmine!) Demetri goes through the motions and does what he needs to keep his Coolness Trophy and Proof of His Normality and Straightness around.

Demetri takes it a step further, though. While Yasmine seems to have a general idea of his personality (geeky shit, karate, insecurity), Demetri does not bother to differentiate Yasmine from any other girl. Every "nice thing" he does for her is either base-level common courtesy (i.e. not actively saying mean things to her or verbally berating her or whatever), or things like jewelry, flower, and candy gifts, which Yasmine has never shown ANY kind of particular affinity for (and fucking trust me--I have watched every Yasmine scene DOZENS of times). Demetri does less than the bare minimum, treating his girlfriend like The Generic Woman™️ and giving 0 indication he knows anything about what she likes as an individual. Hell, the ONE time I gave him credit--remembering that she likes bleunamis--I realized...Yasmine never confirms she actually likes bleunamis? Or wants one? In fact, she immediately follows up with "maybe you should train longer so we don't have to go on this date"!!! It truly does not seem Demetri cares in the slightest about Yasmine's actual personality, or unique traits. The only reason his half-assed "romantic gestures" even work is because Yasmine likes the optics of being with him.

So, going by all this, I think it's fair to say Yasmine and Demetri don't give a shit about exploring or embracing one another's interests and passions. They've had plenty of time to learn about each other, and neither cares to. They both stick to superficial platitudes that will appease the other person (and perhaps their observing peers) just enough to keep the relationship going, with no indication they have anything but a skin-deep read on who the other is as a person. Yasmine boils Demetri down to Insecure Karate Nerd, so as long as she appeals to one of those traits, she's good to go. Demetri boils Yasmine down to Girly Aesthetic, so as long as he buys her stereotypical girly stuff, he's good to go. Additionally, Demetri and Yasmine broadly do not share values, or how they define a competent, successful person. Demetri values putting in work to get what he wants, while Yasmine is far more concerned with the end result benefiting her than whatever she has to do to get there.

I don't think just because she is hyperfeminine, Yasmine can't be a deep thinker who spends a lot of time in her head, contemplating things she likes. Assuming someone concerned with her appearance who happens to like a girlier presentation doesn't have a rich and complex interior world and an active mind is...well, obviously really misogynistic. But ultimately, it doesn't matter how "loud" Yasmine's mind is or how intricate her inner monologue is. If she and Demetri don't ever go down the same cognitive rabbitholes, then it won't matter a fig they're both deep thinkers. And, naturally, we arrive back at the question people have been asking since these two started dating in S3: What the fuck do they talk about?

Demetri probably wants to talk at length about coding, tech, robotics, his favorite sci-fi and fantasy media, science in general, etc. With Yasmine, we don't know her passions for sure, but I'll extrapolate she's knowledgeable about things like fashion trends, social media, health spas, her favorite pop stars, French culture, the best ways to do a home manicure, etc. Maybe she loves learning even more about these things and telling people about them! But if Demetri and Yasmine were either to ramble to the other about all the thoughts they've been having about That Cool Thing They Like, they'd put their partner straight to sleep. Their partner's eyes would glaze over and they'd just mutely nod along while playing Charlie Brown trumpet noises and letting their mind wander somewhere completely different. There's just no sustainable common ground where they can bond for the long term. So TL;DR, to wrap all this up: Demetri and Yasmine's basic disconnect on values and lack of shared hobbies means that neither would be able to regularly engage the other to any significant degree. This means conversations that are stimulating and fun for both is not really possible in the long term.

As for the second reason women seek intelligent men, well. I don't feel I need to convince y'all too much that Rich Girl Yasmine being a gold-digger isn't the case. But nonetheless, I'm covering all my bases.

Yasmine is absolutely richer than Demetri will ever be by means of old money alone. In fact, Yasmine's wealth is the first qualifier we are told about her. Demetri says to Miguel "don't even bother thinking we can associate with those girls; they're rich. We're worth less than the dirt they walk on." Demetri views this clique as superior and untouchable because of their money. Even when he talks later about how he needs to do well on the PSAT so he can eventually get a good, stable job, he never really frames it like "I want to have as much money as Yasmine someday." He wants a more realistic, achievable picture of middle class success and stability: A decent, well-paying job that is good enough, and a hot trophy girl to show for his hard work. Having money on Yasmine's level seems to be beyond Demetri's wildest dreams.

Keep in mind that Demetri knows he's smart and good at tech--he and Eli won a coding competition pretty recently! Still, having a marketable skill with the potential to make you lots of money is much different than having easy access to generational wealth, like Yasmine is implied to. Her parents fly her to places like France and Australia and buy her new cars without batting an eye--the girl is loaded. She essentially has the money to do whatever she likes (and Annalisa said as much in an interview a while back!). There's no real reason why Yasmine would seek out money in a partner.

You could argue "maybe she wants to be even richer," but investing time and effort into having a relationship with someone who might one day be wealthy (and even then--maybe never as wealthy as Yas already was!) doesn't fit with how we know Yasmine approaches her life. She likes tangible, immediate results and instant gratification, and she doesn't mind cutting corners to get what she wants quicker and with less work. Dating a guy she finds quite boring for years and years and years and banking (no pun intended) on his tech someday making him a millionaire is not a risk I see Yasmine taking. Far less trouble just to mooch mommy and daddy's money and play nice with them so she makes sure she gets that inheritance someday! That, and "oh no, someday I'm gonna be expected to marry a rich, respectable guy so my family won't cut me off :(" isn't a concern I see High School Yasmine losing much sleep over. Girl is using her teenage years to fuck around and have fun, and she'll worry about those pesky adult concerns when she's actually an adult.

So, between no possibility of engaging conversations and Yasmine not standing to gain any money from Demetri that isn't dwarfed by what she already has, there's no logical reason why she would be attracted to this math brainiac in any way that would last.

So why is Yasmine and Demetri being this deeply incompatible a genuine problem? They certainly aren't the first sloppily unconvincing forced romance in TV. The trope of dorky nerd boy x popular girl is even considered banally common to the point that a lot of the initial criticism of this pairing came from it being "cliche." In a lot of cases, badly-done canon ships just make me roll my eyes and move on, either ignoring the dynamic or writing a better fanon alternative. The Yasmine-Demetri dynamic, I'd argue, is a lot more harmful than it first appears. So much so that I can't just turn away and push them off my radar.

The ship sends this really weird message of how dumb girls (or at least girls society perceives that way due to them not performing super well academically or being a bit slow on the uptake) go for intelligent guys because...they like feeling like brainless arm candy? They enjoy feeling like nothing except a hot body next to their well-spoken and probably much more broadly-respected boyfriend, who is actually taken seriously by the people around them? It's just so painfully illogical because no woman would choose that life, especially if the dude is not, like, an insane stud.

What does Demetri do for her that would make her so fixated??? We don't have reason to believe she actually understands his "nerdspeak", and she doesn't need to be his girlfriend to have him get her good grades--she could always string him along just enough for him to keep tutoring her or whatever. Even outside his vibes of being an absolute flaming homosexual, he's canonically a virgin when they get together (at least as far as women go...), so he can't be THAT good at sexual stuff--or at least not compared to some more experienced jock boy. And if she wanted to use him for his body, she could just...do that. She could go to him for a quick, easy lay without them being in a relationship. This is high school, and you can fuck and run, and it's fine! Maybe the idea is that he doesn't care about her enough to get possessive and he's always down for a quick makeout sesh when she's feeling the urge, but like. There are plenty of guys at that school who I'm sure would be delighted to be casual with Yasmine, and wouldn't give a fuck if they weren't exclusive.

I think the implication is that Yasmine really is so stupid that she doesn't know any better. It doesn't compute that she gets nothing out of this relationship, and she's inexplicably insatiably turned on by this guy's smarts. Which is obviously problematic and all but it's just so overtly a dumb male fantasy--every (straight) weird nerd dude wants a super hot conventionally attractive popular girl to become obsessed with him to the point she forgets her own personality, but doesn't want to have to do anything to appeal to who she actually is as a person and what she does and doesn't like. Demetri just conveniently has everything Yasmine's ever wanted in a guy, and doesn't have to put in any effort whatsoever to maintain the relationship beyond doing a 5-second google search of "what to do when your girlfriend is mad at you."

Say you're sorry a bunch of times! Get her flowers! Get her candy! Get her jewelry! And all of this miraculously works because it's every guy's dream to have a hot, endlessly horny girlfriend who can be appeased by The Most Typical Woman Things on the rare occasion she gets cranky. Because women love their frivolous girly plants and their sweets and their materialistic displays of wealth, and must not have any needs or desires beyond that. Just dump enough roses into the sex vending machine, and she'll be back to tonguing you and slapping your ass in public in no time!

All in all, not only is yas/metri prettily-packaged misogyny, it's an aggressively illogical breed of it that holds no water even outside its ickier implications. It's a ship that inherently belittles and demeans the woman (who in of herself is a rather mean-spirited representation of feminine girls), but in a way where the logic falls apart upon any scrutiny whatsoever.

This is the kind of mlw ship dynamic that feels sexist in such an over-the-top, ham-fisted way that it's almost satirical. The het tropes used here are just so incredibly uninteresting that it feels almost intentional--a parody of the type of dynamic it tries to play straight.

Usually I'd just laugh at yas/metri and write it off as a catastrophic failure. And, back in 2022, me and the entire fandom more or less did. It's going for a sweet nerdy dork x hot rich socialite type of thing, and it absolutely did not stick the landing. All we're left with is two characters I don't buy would be romantically/sexually involved for any length of time, and what appears to be some old white men dealing with the fact their high school crushes didn't find them interesting and vicariously living through a teenage boy character about it. Yas/metri was as nonsensical as it was filled to the brim with concerningly misogynistic implications, and so I could take solace in the fact that no one was taking it that seriously.

Except now people are. Now, more and more, a lot of what I see in the character tags for Yasmine and Demetri indicate people see no issue with this dynamic, or how it actively does a disservice to both characters by sticking them with a partner who I believe will never, ever be able to share in or care about the things they love and value. People are praising the "cuteness" of Yasmine's little Demetri cheerleading routine and giggling over her horniness, while there's largely radio silence about how deeply fucked it is that the story objectifies and dehumanizes a female character for the sake of propping up a male character and showing off his "coolness" in getting a hot girlfriend.

It's concerning, and it's saddening. As a woman--particularly one who has been catcalled a LOT and rarely feels safe around straight men these days--it's disheartening to see people enthusiastically condone the use of my gender as pretty props, especially in an online space I've always thought of as a sanctuary.

Fiction does not exist in a vacuum, and it DOES affect reality. When you praise and back couples like Yasmine and Demetri, you send a message to many women that you are not someone they can trust.

#yasmine cobra kai #demetri alexopoulos #demetri cobra kai #anti-yasmetri #anti yasmetri #cobra kai #ck spoilers #cobra kai spoilers #cobra kai season 6 #cobra kai season 5 #cobra kai season 4 #cobra kai season 3 #cobra kai season 1 #my textposts #ck negativity #I guess I should tag...#although by and large I more have issues with the fandom's reaction to this ship #than the show's actual portrayal #the ship only ever gained the power to be harmful when people gave it dignity and took it seriously #we should have kept bashing it six ways to sunday for being utterly nonsensical and comically bad #if we'd kept mocking it then we could normalize shaming anyone who thinks it's okay to treat women that way 💅#but just because society has decided to turn its back on womankind doesn't mean I will. EAT MY BEAM OF FEMINISM BITCHES ♀️♀️♀️♀️

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 2 years ago

Text

Broken Rules

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: use of toys, serious edging, handjobs, oral (f,m receiving) unprotected sex, spanking, pet names & honorifics, threesome, bondage, sub!stucky - i think that's it-

Genre: smut because that's like all Stucky gets I need to work on some pure fluff for them, a dash of fluff

Summary: You and Steve catch Bucky breaking a rule

***

When you walk into the room with Steve, you catch Bucky with his hand stroking himself, head tossed back against the headboard and you clear your throat rather loudly, startling him.

"Y/n you're back." Bucky stutters awkwardly.

"That's funny I don't remember giving you permission to do that. Steve did I give you permission to touch yourself?" You ask.

"No mistress." Steve replies immediately.

"Steve did I give Bucky permission to touch himself?" You ask.

"Not to my knowledge." He says.

"Bucky did I give you permission to touch yourself?" You cross your arms.

"Wel-"

"That's a yes or no question. If the next thing out of your mouth is not a yes or a no, you're answering it wrong. I'll ask again did I give you permission to touch yourself Bucky?"

"No mistress."

"And yet here you are." You hum. "Looks like we'll be having a lesson in discipline today."

"I'm-"

"Don't start." You say sharply stopping whatever Bucky was going to say in his defense. You pull the desk chair from its corner and set it up at the foot of the bed facing it. "Come here Bucky." You say. Bucky walks over and kneels at your feet. "Oh now you want to behave as trained. On your feet I want you bent over this chair." You say. He stands and places his hands on the seat of the chair. "Steve my love, go in the trunk in to closet and grab the red box for me." You tell him.

"The red box?"

"Yes. Oh and lube. You can pick."

"I can pick?"

"Yeah. It's not for you but- since you've been so good I'll give you a bit more power today."

"Oh okay- thank you mistress." Steve says and walks over to the closet. He returns with the box and a bottle of lube, he's picked out Bucky's favorite. You smile a bit at that, how sweet of him. You take the bottle of lube first and generously coat your fingers. With a hand at his back, you slowly circle his asshole. He jolts a bit at the cold feeling groaning a bit when you gently breach the tight ring of muscle. You take your time pumping your fingers in and out of him, enjoying the way his breathing changes as he gets worked up from your stretching.

"Steve would you like to do the next bit?" You ask pulling your fingers out of Bucky.

"If it pleases you mistress." Steve nods.

"Brilliant answer, open the box baby boy." You smile. Steve opens the box, a vibrating tail plug and a cockring lie inside along with a few other things but those are the two items you'll need first. "You can grab the plug first, and the remote." You tell Steve. Steve nods and grabs the item in question, taking your place behind Bucky to work the plug into his ass.

"Ah-" Bucky moans.

"Okay Steve, let's see how much power you can handle baby boy. You are going to spank Bucky and he's going to count each one. We'll go to ten." You instruct.

"Yes mistress." Steve nods. Steve takes a breath before his hand comes down on Bucky's ass making the brunette hiss.

"One." He pants out.

"Good Steve, keep going." You nod. He lashes the next 3 in quick succession and Bucky counts just as fast. You don't do much more coaching through the rest of it, Steve spanks, Bucky counts albeit with increasing difficulty, but he does it and by the time Steve has completed the task, Bucky's ass is bright pink, as you wanted.

"You did well puppy, you can sit now." You tell Bucky.

"Thank you mistress." Bucky strains, slowly sitting down, between his sore ass and the plug, it's a lot for him but he makes do.

"And you did well too baby boy." You say stroking Steve's cheek softly.

"Thank you mistress." Steve blushes at your praise. He always does. You pick out the ring from the box and slowly roll it down to the base of Bucky's dick.

"How're we doing puppy?" You pull Bucky's chin, forcing his gaze to you.

"Fine, mistress." Bucky breathes.

"Good. Steve go pick out restraints baby boy." You say. Steve walks back over to the trunk in the closet and shifts through it for a bit before he returns with a pair of leather cuffs.

"Will these do mistress?"

"Yes, those are fine." You grab them from Steve and put them on Bucky, binding his arms behind his back. "Steve come undress me." You say. Steve pulls your shirt over your head and then slips your pants down.

"All the way?" He asks.

"Yes baby boy." You say. Since he's already on his knees he slides your panties off as well before standing and walking behind you to unhook your bra, allowing it to drop into the pile with the rest of your clothes. "Good, I want you next to Bucky, okay Stevie?" You toss over your shoulder as you climb into the large bed. Steve makes his way to Bucky's side and waits for instructions patiently. For a moment you simply look at the pair, enjoying the sight of two super soldiers at your disposal. "Your turn baby boy strip, and then if you want to pull up a chair you can, you'll be over there for a while." You hum. Steve quickly undresses and grabs another chair, pulling it up beside Bucky and taking a seat next to him. You toss the bottle of lube to Steve and he scrambles to catch it. "Here. You're going to be jerking Bucky off, and Bucky you're not allowed to cum." You instruct.

"Now?" Steve asks squirting lubricant into his hand.

"Yeah, go ahead and start." You say. Steve wraps his hand around Bucky and begins to stroke him lazily. Bucky, already having worked himself up so much before you returned, is immediately reactive to Steve's touch. He jerks in his chair and you almost wish you'd tied his legs down too but you don't feel like doing so now. You watch as Steve sets an easy pace with his fist and Bucky barely holds it together, a mess of moans and grunts so quickly that Steve has to carefully monitor his movements so as to not push him over the edge.

"Ffffuck! Please mistress- I'm sorry I- shit I can't- please!" you smirk at Bucky's broken pleas.

"You can't what puppy?" You ask with feigned sympathy lacing the words.

"Please, please I need to cum. I can't take it. Please mistress." Bucky pants out, head thrown back as Steve continues to toy with him.

"Oh now you ask for permission but totally forgot about that when you broke the rules. Perhaps I'll just forget to let you cum." You hum.

"No! No please, please mistress. I'm sorry, it won't happen again. Please." Bucky's head shoots up to look at you with pleading eyes.

"Look at you, such a desperate thing. I like you like this Bucky." You smirk. "Stevie, anything to say to our naughty puppy, baby boy?"

"You really shouldn't break the rules Buck." Steve mutters.

"I know! I know, I'm sorry. Please mistress I can't-" Bucky cuts himself on with a whine caused by a change in Steve's rhythm.

"Oh I think you can. Not that it matters if you can or not because you will, for as long as I decide." You say.

"Steve- please- fuck ease up, holy shit."

"Steve answers to me, puppy. Begging him won't help you." You taunt. Steve, ever the diligent sub, continues to stroke Bucky at the same pace- though his face shows his sympathy for him as he watches Bucky writhe and whine at the attention. It's then that you remember the little remote in your hand and decide to put it to use. You turn on the vibrations on the lowest setting though you can't tell from his reaction. He practically leaps out of the chair from the extra stimulation. If he was a mess before he's in absolute shambles now. The broken sob from his lips is enough to drag your free hand from the bed to settle between your legs. You're totally dripping when you slide your fingers past your lower lips. You let your digits coast over your clit a few times, humming from the relief it brings you. Both Steve's and Bucky's eyes are trained on you as you slip two fingers inside yourself, curling them upward in a way that has your back arching and Bucky's next moan sounds pained. You know it's less to do with Steve's steady pumping and more to do with the show you're now putting on. Neither of them can stand not having their hands on you. Steve continues his task with Bucky while you use the sight to work yourself, thrusting your fingers in and out of your pussy.

"Fuck- I'm so wet. So warm too." You hum.

"Mistress." Bucky sighs out. "Please mistress, please. Need you so bad mistress. Please."

"Need me so bad you broke my rules." You remind him.

"Please! I'm sorry. I-"

"Steve, baby boy come here." You say turning off Bucky's vibrator. Bucky grunts over the loss of all stimulation but his panting breaths are loud.

"Yes mistress?" Steve asks.

"You've been so helpful today. Would you like a treat?"

"Oh please, mistress. If- you feel I've earned it." Steve says.

"So cute." You giggle. "Kneel." You order and Steve drops quickly. You prop your legs up on his shoulders before you address him again. "Make me cum baby boy. Or you'll be tied to a chair next." You say and with a hand buried in Steve's hair, you guide him to your center. He's eager as his tongue dives between your folds.

"God, so good baby boy. You're doing so well Stevie." You moan out tossing your head back. You grind your hips against Steve's face, tugging at his blonde locks as you chase your first release of the day. You let Steve's tongue drive you over the edge rather quickly, arching your back into him when your orgasm washes over you. When your breathing calms slightly you pull Steve from between your legs and kiss him. "You've been rather patient I think baby boy. Let's reward that." You say pushing him onto the bed. You take Steve's dick, hard and likely aching for attention, and line it up with your entrance, lowering yourself onto him slowly.

"Fuck- thank you mistress." Steve rasps out once you've settled over him. You kiss him sweetly and then place your hands on his chest, riding him fast and hard, enjoying the sounds from his lips.

"You're welcome, baby boy. Fuck you feel so good, filling me up nicely." You moan. Steve's mouth drops open as if to speak but all that comes out is a garbled groan, the feel of you around him clouding his thoughts.

"Mistress I wanna touch you. Please let me go. I promise I'll be good just- please let me touch you." Bucky's voice is gruff and when you look over at him he's incredibly tense.

"What do you think Stevie? Do you think my puppy has learned his lesson?" You hum licking across Steve's neck.

"I- I think so mistress. You had me spank him and he's been denied for quite some time now." Steve pants out.

"You're so sweet baby boy." You smile slowly lifting yourself from him. "And you, puppy are quite lucky for it. Personally, I was thinking about leaving you high and dry for at least a week over this." You walk over to Bucky and uncuff him from the chair. "You'll keep on the accessories for now." You tell him gesturing him over to the bed. Bucky on unsteady legs, stumbles over to the bed. You turn your attention back to Steve, taking his still hard length into your mouth. He's been so agreeable while you've had to focus most of your attention on Bucky's punishment. He hisses when you swallow him down. Steve is worked up, so much so that his body is jolting as you bob your head up and down his dick.

"Mistress, can- I wanna put it in. Please- please let me put it in mistress. Can I? Please?" It seems Bucky's managed to get his bearings a bit as he's suddenly whining at you. You come off Steve long enough to answer him, keeping a fist wrapped around the blonde for the short interim.

"Geez puppy if I didn't know any better I'd think you're in heat with how desperate you're acting." You taunt.

"Please mistress." Bucky mutters.

"Fine but you wait for my permission to cum. Understood?" You grip his chin in your free hand.

"Yes mistress. Thank you mistress." He nods as best he can in your hold. You let him go and focus back on Steve, swallowing him down again. Finally having the green light, Bucky wastes no time sinking into your heat. His hips move quick, his thrusts frantic enough to distract you for a moment.

"Steve baby boy as you've been so good I want you to cum for me okay baby?" You pull off him to give the instruction.

"O-okay mistress." Steve stutters out and you wrap your lips around him again. It doesn't take much more to have him spilling in your mouth with a whine.

"Good boy." You hum once his orgasm dies down. You allow Bucky a few more minutes to drive into you mindlessly before you twist to push him off you. You remove the ring from his dick and turn the vibrator in his ass up all the way. "If you want to cum it'll be like this. Since you seem to think you can simply cum whenever you feel like it." You tell him as he writhes on the bed. It takes a few minutes but eventually, ropes of white are spurting onto his stomach as he sobs. You turn off the toy and grab some wipes to clean him up a bit. "I'll be right back." You mutter kissing the top of his head and then Steve's. Two damp rags in hand you return to the boys and wipe down first Bucky, then Steve, who wraps his arms around Bucky once you're done.

"You did well Bucky." You tell him. "You too Stevie, the perfect little helper." You wink and Steve blushes.

"I don't like punishing him." Steve says.

"Neither do I. If only he followed the rules huh." You smile, which Steve returns.

"That's not as fun." Bucky mutters.

"Troublemaker." You tap his butt lightly and he moans due to the plug still inside him. "Oh let me take care of that." You say, slowly removing it and placing it to the side. You'll have to clean the toys later, because as soon as you've put them down Steve pulls you down between him and Bucky.

"This was so much better than that meeting with Tony." Steve mutters into your neck.

"Agreed." You hum.

"I love you guys." Bucky mumbles.

"Love you too." Steve replies.

"And I love both of you." You say, your fingers threading through their hair softly. They're a bit of a handful sometimes but yeah- you definitely wouldn't trade them for anything.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #steve rogers #captain america #stucky x reader #stucky fanfic #stucky smut #stucky

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