#wade seems just as captivated | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

choerypetal · 3 months ago

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Hickeys / Wade, Logan and Remy

summary: small prompts, on how the xmen boys would be when given hickeys.

ps; i apologies if there is a few grammatical errors, as english isn't my first language.

enjoy!

Wade:

That man can’t resist keeping you in his sight and making sure to give you at least a kiss, or some small gesture of affection, before heading off to work.

This means his lips would form an adorable pout as he insists on leaning in. When you give in, his lips curl into a smirk, and before you can protest, you feel his hungry kiss.

Of course, it doesn't end there. His fingers slide around your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you onto his lap. "The boss can wait a little while," he murmurs, his voice rough and laced with a hunger that demands to feel his teeth on your skin. That's how his habit of leaving hickeys began. "Not until I'm done."

"Wadee," you tried to protest, glancing at the clock to remind him not to be late, but his priorities were elsewhere. You knew it when you felt his tongue tracing the crook of your neck, followed by the slow press of his teeth against your skin. He left a few more bruises, as if the ones from yesterday weren’t already enough for him.

"Shh…" he purred, his eyes darkened by lust and the passion in his voice. "I need to finish my little masterpiece." You rolled your eyes, letting out a slight chuckle, but before you knew it, a moan escaped your lips as he nipped harder with his teeth. "That's it, princess, I want to hear you moan," Wade whispered, the desire and need evident in his gaze.

He finally stopped, as always, to admire his work—several new hickeys on your neck. Just the sight of them made him bite his bottom lip. When your eyes met his, he leaned in for a sloppy kiss, leaving you breathless, with pouty lips and fluttering lashes. "Oh, so now the princess wants more? It's a shame I have to go to work. And so do you," he teased. Typical bastard, you thought to yourself.

Logan:

Unlike Wade, Logan isn’t the type to be vocal about what’s his. As the Wolverine, it wasn’t surprising when you ended up covered in hickeys. One time at the X-Men Labs, Logan immediately noticed a coworker checking you out. It wasn’t just the hickeys on your neck but also an outrageous comment that set him off. If those hickeys weren’t enough, you were in for a session where Logan would mark you as his—completely and everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Naturally, he chose the Lab as the perfect place to do it. Despite his wild nature, Logan is surprisingly traditional, which might catch anyone, including you, off guard. But with his Wolverine instincts, he didn’t hesitate to grip your waist, pulling you up from your chair despite your protests, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist for support. "You really thought I’d let you leave work that early? That’s the kind of question that would make me feel ashamed, love."

Before you could say anything, his lips caught yours in a hungry kiss. His voice was hoarse, thick with the impatience and craving he’d been holding back all day—especially after seeing you with your coworker. When Logan’s jealousy flared, you knew there was no stopping him. “Logan…” you whispered, your soft, vulnerable voice a huge turn-on for him. He purred as he nodded at your call. “Yes, sweetheart?” he murmured, his gaze never leaving you. “I need you, so bad…” Your confession was all he needed. He began by nuzzling his head against your neck, his teeth sinking in without hesitation.

The neck was just the beginning for Logan; he wasn’t satisfied yet. He needed more, which meant leaning you over your Lab desk. Your blouse clung to your curves as his fingers, both gentle and eager, began unbuttoning your jacket. The typical work attire—a short skirt, sheer lace, and a blouse that matched the color of your nail polish—was what truly captivated him. Even his own attire seemed to complement yours. One of the many things he adored about you, he murmured, “Man, you look gorgeous…”

“You don’t look bad yourself either,” you echoed the words you’d whispered when you first met Logan. He adored this gesture, finding it endearing. Just moments before unbuttoning your blouse, he asked, “May I?” with the gentlemanly demeanor he always displayed. You smiled and nodded in response. “Since no one else will be coming to the Lab, my body is yours, Logan.”

That response alone pleased the Wolverine. As his fingers delicately and slowly unbuttoned your blouse, he took a moment to admire your breasts, beautifully outlined by the cup of your bra, before nuzzling his head against your stomach. His teeth sank into your flesh, leaving more hickeys than he had originally intended. “Now, I hope this will stop your coworker from looking…” he murmured.

Remy Lebeau:

Of the two, Remy is undoubtedly the most proud when it comes to showcasing his affection. His love language includes plenty of flirtation, and he makes sure that most of your hickeys are prominently displayed. He’s also quite vocal about it, especially when your best friend, Peter Maximoff, notices the sudden marks on your neck and expresses his concern. “Geez, Y/N, someone was feisty last night. I’m curious who the lucky one is.”

In no time, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, with Remy’s shadow looming over your petite frame and a smug look of pride on his face. “Ma chérie, you look a bit tired today,” he remarked, prompting you to shoot him a death glare. Despite your effort to remain professional, Remy’s public displays of affection made Peter gulp silently. “I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he said. “See you at lunch?”

That question was an offer Remy was inclined to refuse, as he had other plans in mind. Everyone knew it, especially you, which surprised him when you agreed to join. His grip around your waist tightened, and a smile spread across his face. As polite as ever, he said, “It would be a shame if Y/N didn’t join us. But my chère has other plans. Sorry, mon cher Peter.”

Wanting to protest or suggest otherwise, it was clear that Remy had different plans. Sneaking out of work hours only seemed to please him more. As he planted a few kisses in the crook of your neck, his silhouette lingering behind you, Peter took the opportunity to excuse himself. He shared a glance with you, his expression teasingly reflecting his amusement at Gambit’s protective nature.

“Now, chère,” he said, his voice hoarse and his accent more pronounced. His fingers gently caressed your waist. “We have some unfinished business to attend to, don’t we?”

He wasn’t wrong. Your eyelids grew heavier as his teeth sank in, a soft moan escaping your lips just before he covered your mouth with his hand. “No, no, no,” he purred. “Not here.” Yet, he continued, and when he finally stopped, his fingers intertwined with yours, leaving you breathless. With a look of typical smugness, he found you adorable and said, “Alons, y.”

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moonxknightx · 3 months ago

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♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : BENEATH THE SURFACE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Violence: Includes detailed scenes of physical altercations and self-defense. Sexual Harassment: Depicts a non-explicit but distressing scene of unwanted touching and intimidation. Emotional Distress: Contains moments of anxiety and emotional vulnerability. Reader doesn’t know that Logan is also Wolverine.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: After a terrifying encounter in a dark alley, you're rescued by the mysterious and fierce Wolverine, who effortlessly fights off your attackers. Grateful but shaken, you share a vulnerable conversation with him on your building's steps, revealing your unspoken feelings for Logan Howlett—a man who has unknowingly captured your heart. Little do you know, Logan is closer than you think, and your confession stirs something deep within him, leading to an unexpected and heartfelt turn of events.

THE CITY WAS ALIVE WITH ITS USUAL HUM AS YOU MADE YOUR WAY HOME, the sky transitioning from twilight to the deep hues of night. The streets were familiar, every corner and alley a part of your daily routine, yet tonight felt different. A certain unease settled in your stomach, though you couldn’t place why.

Your thoughts drifted, as they often did, to Logan Howlett. He was a man of few words and even fewer smiles, but something about him had captivated you from the moment you met him. You’d been introduced by Wade Wilson, your loudmouth neighbor who had an affinity for trouble and an odd sense of humor. Wade had a way of inserting himself into everyone’s lives, and through him, you found yourself drawn to Logan—despite, or maybe because of, his gruff exterior.

You had been crushing on Logan for a while now, but your feelings were met with a wall of indifference, or so it seemed. Logan was distant, always keeping you at arm’s length. You figured it was just his way, maybe even a defense mechanism. Still, it hurt, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feelings you had for him.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed the group of men until it was too late. They emerged from the shadows of an alleyway, their eyes glinting with malice. Your heart raced as you took a step back, but they quickly closed in, surrounding you.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them sneered, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Where do you think you’re going?"

Panic clawed at your chest. "I don’t want any trouble. Just let me go."

The men laughed, and before you could react, one of them reached out and grabbed your arm, yanking you toward him. You tried to pull away, but his grip was ironclad. The others circled closer, their hands brushing against your body in ways that made your skin crawl. One of them ran his hand down your back, his touch lingering far too long on places that made your stomach churn with revulsion.

"Don’t be shy now," another man whispered in your ear, his breath hot and disgusting against your skin. His hand slid up your side, fingers digging into your waist as he pressed you against the cold, hard wall of the alley. "We just want to have some fun."

Terror spiked through you as one of them pushed his hand up your shirt, his fingers cold and invasive against your skin. You tried to scream, but your voice caught in your throat, panic strangling the sound. They had you pinned, and the more you struggled, the more they seemed to enjoy it, their laughter growing more sinister with each passing second.

Just as you thought all hope was lost, a low, menacing growl echoed through the alley, freezing everyone in place. The laughter died, replaced by a tense, almost primal silence. You barely had time to process what was happening before a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with lethal precision.

Wolverine.

His eyes burned with fury, and the metallic snikt of his claws unsheathing was the only warning the men received before he was upon them. In a flash, Wolverine lunged at the man closest to you, his claws slicing through the air with deadly accuracy. The man didn’t even have time to scream before Wolverine’s claws tore into him, sending him crashing to the ground in a lifeless heap.

The other men tried to scatter, but Wolverine was faster. He grabbed the man who had been holding you, lifting him effortlessly off the ground with one hand. The man’s eyes bulged with fear as Wolverine snarled, his claws glinting in the dim light before he drove them into the man’s chest, ending the threat in an instant.

The third man, now the only one left standing, attempted to flee, but Wolverine was on him in a heartbeat. With a swift, brutal strike, Wolverine sent the man flying across the alley, his body crumpling against the brick wall with a sickening thud. The alley fell silent, the danger gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Wolverine stood over the fallen men, his chest heaving with the remnants of his rage. His claws dripped with blood, and his eyes still glowed with the intensity of the fight. But as he turned to you, his expression softened, the wildness in his eyes fading to concern.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice rough but gentle as he retracted his claws, the deadly metal sliding back into his hands.

You nodded shakily, your body trembling with adrenaline. "I… I think so," you managed to say, though your voice was barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your arm, as if to reassure himself that you were truly unharmed. "Did they hurt you?"

You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. "No… they didn’t get the chance, thanks to you."

His jaw clenched, and you could see the anger still simmering just beneath the surface, directed not at you, but at the men who had dared to lay a hand on you. "Let’s get you home," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "It’s not safe here."

You nodded again, still too rattled to argue, and the two of you began the walk back to your place. The night felt quieter now, the earlier danger a stark contrast to the safety you felt beside him. The silence between you was heavy, but not uncomfortable. There was something about his presence that made you feel safe, even though you barely knew him.

As you walked, your mind raced with questions. Why was Wolverine here? Did he patrol this area often? And most of all, why did his presence feel so familiar? But you didn’t ask any of them. Instead, you walked beside him, your steps echoing in the quiet night.

When you finally reached your building, you hesitated at the entrance. "Would you… would you like to sit for a bit? I’m not quite ready to go inside."

Wolverine glanced around, then nodded. "Sure."

You both sat down on the steps, and for a while, neither of you spoke. The night was calm now, the danger from earlier feeling like a distant memory. Yet, your thoughts were far from calm. They kept circling back to Logan and the feelings you had tried so hard to keep at bay.

"You know," you began, not looking at him, "there’s this guy I really like. We’ve known each other for a while now, and… well, I’m pretty sure he has no idea how I feel."

Wolverine shifted beside you, and you could feel his eyes on you. "Why don’t you just tell him?"

You sighed, your gaze fixed on the ground. "It’s not that easy. He’s… complicated. Keeps people at a distance. I’m not sure he even sees me that way. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m wasting my time."

Wolverine remained silent, and when you glanced at him, you noticed a flicker of something in his eyes—was it unease? It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, and he looked away, his jaw tightening.

"He might have his reasons," he said after a moment, his voice unusually gentle. "Maybe he’s been hurt before. Or maybe he thinks he’s not good enough for you."

You looked up at him, surprised by the insight in his words. "Do you really think that?"

He nodded, his gaze still averted. "Yeah. Guys like that… they can be tough to figure out. But if he cares about you, he’ll come around. He just needs to realize that you’re worth the risk."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. There was something in the way he said it, like he was speaking from experience. "I hope you’re right," you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

A brief silence fell between you before you spoke again, your voice barely above a whisper. "His name is Logan. He’s a good guy, really… but he keeps shutting me out. I just don’t know what to do."

Wolverine stiffened beside you, his reaction subtle but noticeable. His head turned slightly, as if he was trying to gauge your expression without fully looking at you. When he spoke, his voice was lower, more hesitant. "Logan, huh?"

You nodded, feeling a pang of vulnerability as you admitted it out loud. "Yeah. I know he’s got his reasons for being the way he is, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to be close to him. From wanting him to see me… really see me."

Wolverine was quiet for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, there was a strange mix of emotions in his voice—something between surprise, guilt, and maybe even… hope? "Maybe… he already does."

You turned to look at him, confused by the shift in his tone. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Just… don’t give up on him. Sometimes, people need time to figure things out."

You studied him, wondering if there was more to his words than he was letting on. But before you could press further, he stood up, signaling that it was time for him to go.

"You’ll be safe now," he said, his voice back to its usual gruffness. "I should go."

You stood as well, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and sadness. "Yeah. Thanks again… for everything."

He nodded once more, and without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone on the steps.

The next morning, you were still thinking about the encounter as you got ready for the day. There was something about Wolverine that lingered in your mind, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But before you could dwell on it, a knock on your door startled you.

You opened it to find Logan standing there, looking more serious than you’d ever seen him. His eyes were intense, and for a moment, you wondered if something was wrong.

"Logan?" you said, your voice laced with concern. "What’s going on?"

He hesitated, as if unsure of how to begin. "I need to talk to you."

You stepped aside to let him in, your heart pounding in your chest. "Sure. What is it?"

He didn’t sit down, instead pacing a bit before turning to face you. "There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have said a long time ago."

Your breath caught in your throat. "What is it?"

He stopped in front of you, his gaze locking onto yours. "I’ve been an idiot," he said, his voice low and rough. "I’ve kept my distance because… well, because I’m no good for you. But last night made me realize something. I can’t keep ignoring how I feel."

Your heart raced as his words sank in. "Logan…"

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. "I like you, okay? I’ve liked you for a long time. But I didn’t think I deserved you. Still don’t, if I’m being honest. But if you’ll have me… I’d like to take you out. On a real date."

You stared at him, stunned. "You… you want to go out with me?"

He nodded, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. "Yeah. I do."

A smile slowly spread across your face, your heart swelling with joy. "I’d love to, Logan."

He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Tonight, then?"

"Tonight sounds perfect," you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but call after him. "Logan?"

He stopped and looked back at you, a questioning look in his eyes.

"You knew, didn’t you? Last night… you were…"

Logan looked away for a moment, then nodded slowly, the weight of his admission hanging in the air. "Yeah," he said, his voice gruff but honest. "I was there. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a while now… more than you probably realize."

Your heart fluttered at the realization, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—relief, warmth, and a touch of amusement. "So you’re Wolverine," you said, more of a statement than a question. "I should’ve known."

Logan met your gaze, his expression softening. "I didn’t want you to find out like that. But when I saw those guys…" His voice trailed off, the thought of what could have happened left unspoken.

You took a step closer to him, feeling a newfound connection now that the truth was out. "Thank you for being there," you said, your voice gentle. "For always being there, even when I didn’t know it."

He nodded, the intensity in his eyes softening further. "I’ll always be there, if you want me to be."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "I do, Logan. I really do."

The two of you stood there, the unspoken understanding between you solidifying into something more. Logan’s hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, the touch both tender and reassuring. "So, tonight?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Tonight."

Logan smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. "I’ll see you then."

As he turned to leave, you felt a surge of excitement for what was to come. For the first time in a long while, the future felt bright, full of possibilities you hadn’t dared to imagine.

But just as Logan reached the door, you couldn’t resist adding one more thing. "Logan?"

He paused, turning back to face you, his expression curious.

"You know, I’ve always thought you were pretty amazing. Claws and all."

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he shook his head with a grin. "And here I was, thinking I had to hide that part of me."

You shrugged playfully. "Turns out, I like you just the way you are."

Logan’s smile grew, and for a moment, you could see the walls he’d built around himself starting to crumble. "I’ll remember that."

And with that, he left, the door closing softly behind him. As you stood there, your heart full of anticipation and a sense of peace, you knew that tonight would be the start of something new—something real and wonderful, with Logan by your side

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes

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#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fluff #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman

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dewdropdinosaur · 16 days ago

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Kinktober Day 20: Threesome

Summary: You're good with kids, there is no doubt. Heck, you're a kindergarten teacher, you love little ones. Your boyfriends on the other hand, just love how great you are with kids. Maybe it's time to give you one of your own. Warnings: P in V sex, threesome, breeding kink, cum, reader had a vagina, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @cassandrascottt

You stood at the front of the classroom, laughter mingling with the excited chatter of the students. The vibrant walls were filled with painted art projects, and the scent of crayons and fresh paper lingered in the air. Today’s lesson was all about storytelling, and you had encouraged the kids to use their imaginations, their faces lighting up with every new idea. From being a superhero, a princess, or a dragon, your student’s ideas never failed to excite you.

As the bell rang, the students began to gather their things, and you smiled, waving them off. “Remember, tomorrow is our storytelling contest! Bring your best tales but make sure they are written in your scrapbook!” The children cheered and scrambled out, their giggles echoing in the hall. The day had ended and while a satisfying one, you couldn’t wait to get back home and snuggle up to some warm food with your boyfriends. Yes, Wade Wilson and Logan were an odd pair by themselves but adding you into the mix seemed to make it all the sweeter (or hornier if you asked Wade).

Outside, you spotted Wade and Logan leaning against the school’s brick wall. Wade, in a red graphic tee and a pair of black jeans, was animatedly gesturing as he spoke, while Logan, in his classic flannel and jblue eans, looked not as amused, arms crossed over his chest. Your heart swelled, it was moments like this—seeing the two of them together—that reminded you of how unique their relationship was.

“Hey, beautiful!” Wade called out, his voice playful. “How many lives did you ruin today with your educational superpowers?”

Laughing with an eye roll, you replied while approaching the duo. “Just a few. No one will need intensive therapy after my storytelling lesson!”

Logan pushed off the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re doing just fine. Kids need someone who gets them.” He stepped closer, his presence grounding and warm.

As you walked to the car, Wade pretended to swoon dramatically. “Oh, I’m hot for teacher! So captivating! Did you see how the kids hung on your every word? I was this close to signing up for kindergarten myself!” He pinched his fingers dramatically, as if to show just how close he was to sitting in on your class. It would certaintly be interesting.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “You’d probably scare them off with your face, bub”

A slow blush creeped up your cheeks as Logan opened the car door for you. “You both are ridiculous,” you tried to sound agitated, putting on your best teacher voice, but a shy smile betrayed your amuesment. “But it’s sweet. I’m glad you think I’m good with the kids.”

That caught their attention. They had certaintly talked about it before but now hearing the idea aloud, how good you were with kids thta weren’t even your own, now that sparked an idea. With a quick glance to each other, no words were needed to form the plan that was about to commence. Allowing the thoughts to stew on the ride home, you had no idea of their plan when you entered your shared apartment. Of course, it was messy but the boys had allowed you to decorate it; making it seem less like a college frat dorm room and more like a home. And if their plan came to fruition, it certainy would be a home indeed.

Suddenly, Logan grabbed yours wrists and pinned you down against the nearest wall. His smoldering gaze glowered down at you as his face leaned down to whisper in huskily in your ear.

“What do you think about having some kits of your own?”

“What?”

Coming to your side, Wade joined his partner in looking down at you. Using his hand to reach around and cup your chin, he brought your shocked gaze to look up at him.

“Dollface, I think peanut here is asking to breed you. And I am certainly not opposed to the idea. I mean I am sure a hundred Tumblr fics have been written about it already—”

A dark chuckle erupted from Logans throat at Wade’s words, for once he wasn’t annoyed at the merc’s mouth. As he stood up and let his grip go, both men now stared down at you. After some stumbling and a few apologies to about tripping over variois objects, all three parties ended up in the master bedroom with clothes on the floor. You, laid on the bed and the boy’s eyes darkened with hunger at the sight of your bare form, a silent understanding among them of what was about to happen.

Wade leaned down and took one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, the warmth of his tongue teasing the aroused bud. Dragging his hands across your torso, he slowly marked your skin with his hands. Logan, instead dipped down and spread your thighs, enjoying the way they felt in his calloused hands. With a whimper, you couldn’t help but arch your back into his touch as he dragged his nose across your slit. The heat from his breath left you soaked with desire, cunt clenching around nothing as you imagined all the things that were about to happen.

Hoisting your legs up on his shoulders, Logan massaged the tip of his cock against you hole. Not allowed a moment of reprieve, sheathing his heady member into your cunt with one stroke, Wade then bit the corner of your collarbone to distract you from Logan’s actions. He stretched your needy hole, both of your moaning both at the sight and feeling, the delicious yet somewhat burning friction that both of you so desperately craved. You gasped at the stretch, gripping the sheets with each strong stroke. The velvet of your walls squeezing Logan so tight that with every exit and entry of his member into your cunt, the ribs of his cock rubbed against you in a painfully delicious way. Wade took initative and slowly started to leave hot wet kisses and nips across the valley of your neck, only pausing to whisper filthy things in your ear as Logan carried out a relentless pace.

“He’s gonna fuck you so good baby. Think about how good you’ll look, so big and glowing with our baby inside you. You’re gonna be such a good momma. Want us to make you a momma dollface?"

Gosh, he was so hot like this. You hung onto everyword, every image you presented you with. It was addicting, the feeling of Logan inside you, the softness of Wade’s lips worshiping your body as he debauched words continued to send wave after wave of arousal shooting straight down to your already weeping pussy. And you knew it may never happen, you were still on the pill and by all means Wade was infertile with Logan’s ability to breed in question since he was older.

But by any means, you could certaintly get used to this.

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awkward-walking-potato · 3 months ago

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Courting Death

What happens when Wade falls in love with death

Like always my requests are open!

Wade Wilson, otherwise known as Deadpool, was no stranger to death. He’d flirted with it more times than he could count, had danced on the edge of oblivion with a reckless grin, and come back every time with a joke on his lips. But this—You—was different.

You weren’t just any mutant. You were the embodiment of death itself, a living, breathing force of nature. The air around you seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy, the kind that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Where you went, shadows followed, and people whispered your name with a mix of fear and awe.

But Wade? Wade was obsessed.

It had started innocently enough—well, as innocent as anything involving Deadpool could be. The first time he saw you, you were effortlessly taking down a group of mercenaries who had foolishly tried to ambush you. They never stood a chance. You moved through them like a ghost, your touch sending them into a deep, eternal sleep. Wade had watched from the shadows, his heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with fascination.

“Holy chimichangas, you’re beautiful,” he had muttered under his breath, watching you with wide eyes as you dispatched the last of your attackers.

And then you had turned to him, your gaze locking onto his as if you had known he was there the whole time. Your eyes were deep, endless pools of darkness, but there was something captivating about them, something that pulled him in despite every instinct telling him to run.

“Shouldn’t you be running by now?” you asked, your voice smooth, almost melodic.

Wade grinned beneath his mask, stepping out of the shadows with his hands raised in mock surrender. “Why would I do that when I’m looking at the most gorgeous thing to ever walk the Earth?”

You tilted your head, intrigued but unimpressed. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me, Deadpool.”

“Oh, I don’t expect it to, sweetheart,” Wade replied, sauntering closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop trying.”

And that was how it began—Deadpool, the Merc with a Mouth, courting Death herself.

To say that Wade was persistent would be an understatement. He followed you wherever you went, popping up in the most unlikely places with his usual irreverent charm. Whether you were in the middle of a mission or simply trying to enjoy a rare moment of peace, there he was, with a quip and a grin.

“Hey, beautiful, need a hand?” he’d ask, even if you were effortlessly handling a situation that would leave most others quaking in their boots.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” you’d reply, your tone more amused than annoyed.

“Nah,” he’d say with a wink. “Stalking Death is my full-time job now. Pretty sweet gig, if you ask me.”

Despite yourself, you found Wade’s attention… intriguing. Most people recoiled from you, their instincts screaming at them to stay away. But Wade was different. He was drawn to you, not in spite of what you were, but because of it. His obsession wasn’t just with the idea of death—it was with you

One night, after a particularly grueling mission, you found yourself sitting on the rooftop of a dilapidated building, the city sprawled out beneath you. The air was cool, the night quiet—a perfect moment to be alone with your thoughts.

Or at least, it would have been, if Wade hadn’t suddenly plopped down beside you with a contented sigh.

“Beautiful night, huh?” he said, leaning back on his hands and staring up at the stars.

You glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t you ever get tired of this?”

Wade shrugged, his eyes twinkling behind his mask. “Tired of what? Spending time with the most fascinating woman in the world? Not a chance.”

“You know what I am,” you said, your voice softer, more serious than usual. “You know what happens to people who get too close to me.”

Wade turned to look at you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Yeah, I know. But here’s the thing, doll—I’m not like most people. I can’t die. Well, I can, but I won’t stay that way for long. So, really, I’m the perfect guy for you.”

You frowned, a flicker of frustration crossing your features. “This isn’t a joke, Wade. You should be careful.”

“I am careful,” Wade replied, reaching out to take your hand in his gloved one. “I’m careful not to let you out of my sight. Besides, you and I… we’re not so different. We’ve both seen what’s on the other side. We’ve both danced with death. The only difference is, you are Death, and I gotta say, you wear it well.”

You sighed, but there was a faint smile on your lips, despite your best efforts to remain aloof. There was something about Wade that was impossible to resist. His relentless charm, his unshakeable optimism in the face of everything, even his obsession with you—it all made you feel something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Why me?” you asked quietly, turning your gaze to the city below. “Why are you so fixated on me?”

Wade was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was softer, more sincere. “Because I’ve seen a lot of shit in my life. I’ve been through a lot of it too. And in all that time, I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re powerful, sure. Terrifying, definitely. But you’re also… lonely. And I know what that’s like.”

You looked at him, surprised by the depth of his words.

“I figure, if anyone understands me, it’s you,” Wade continued, his tone almost wistful. “And maybe, just maybe, I can understand you too.”

For a long moment, you just stared at him, searching his eyes for any sign that this was all just another joke. But all you saw was sincerity, an honesty that was rare in anyone, let alone someone like Wade Wilson.

“Maybe you’re right,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Wade grinned, his usual exuberance returning. “Damn right, I’m right. Now, what do you say we go get some chimichangas and make this a proper date?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a sound that surprised even you. ��You’re impossible, Wade.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” he quipped, standing up and offering you his hand.

And maybe you did. Maybe, in the madness of Wade’s obsession, you’d found something you hadn’t even known you were looking for—someone who saw you, not as a monster or a force to be feared, but as a person, someone worth knowing.

As you took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet, you realized that maybe there was more to life—and death—than you had ever imagined.

#deadpool imagine #deadpool x reader #wade wilson imagine #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #deadpool oneshot #marvel imagine #x men imagine

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aismoker · 17 days ago

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I really love your stories! I was wondering though, as related to your stories, do you think two people can be in love and assimilated (e.g. can two people be in love before being assimilated, force the other to be assimilated and remain in love; or fall in love after assimilation) or those two concepts mutually exclusive (e.g. the power of Marlboro is too great or more powerful, or the very act of assimilation removes individuality so that love cannot exist except to serve)?

Thank you so much! I am really glad you like my stories. To answer your question, I will tell you what happened to a couple of friends of a friend of mine.

They were called Mark and Tristan, both in their early thirties. They became a couple about 8 years ago and they were still very much in love. Their love was a special one, that increased over time. Everything was perfect.

One day, Mark came back home from a business trip. When he arrived home, he noticed something amiss. He had thought his boyfriend would be at work, but it seemed that he was at home. Was he sick? Or had he taken a day off to surprise him?

"Tristan? Are you home?"

No reply. Mark put his suitcase down and walked through the house. When he reached the bedroom, he smelled something. Was it cigarette smoke? Tristan smoked sometimes at parties, but never inside their home. Mark opened the door. Smoke streamed out of the room, engulfing him. Mark coughed a bit. He was okay with Tristan smoking occasionally, but he didn't fancy it. He looked inside the room, but the smoke was too thick. "Tristan?" No answer, but Mark heard a rhytmical, squeaking sound. He was anxious. What was going on? He stepped into the bedroom. The smoke seemed to close in behind him.

Through the smoke, he saw a red glow. He walked, no, waded, through the smoke. As he came closer. He saw it was the computer screen. Behind it sat a man. "Tr... Tristan?" No reaction. As he came closer, he noticed, that the figure was smoking a cigarette. He was wearing a shiny suit of some sort and his shaved head was equally shiny. He was sitting behind the conputer, staring at a screen filled with red binary code. Mark saw where the squeaking sound came from. The man was working his cock. Mark was so confused, but at the same time mesmerized by the sight of it. He then suddenly noticed, that he was looking at his boyfriend.

"Tristan! What happened to you?" he screamed. Tristan didn't react. He kept smoking and staring at the screen, as if he was in a trance. Marc walked toward his boyfriend. Worries were racing through his mind. He put his hands on his boyfriend's shoulders and shook, but Tristan didn't move a muscles. He stood there for a moment, thinking what he could do. He then suddenly noticed his hands tingling. He took them from Tristan's shoulders and looked at them. They were covered in a black shiny goo, looking not unlike the uniform his boyfriend was wearing.

Tar.

He didn't know where that thought came from, but he didn't question it, nor was he alarmed by it. He looked at in fascination and played with it in his hands, until they were completely covered. The tingling feeling was actually quite pleasant.

All the while he was staring at his hand, he saw the binary code on the screen, constantly changing. He shifted his attention to it. He couldn't make any sense of the zeros and ones moving on the screen, yet he kept looking, mesmerized. He knew he had to.

As he stood there, Marc lost all sense of time. He just just stood there and watched the screen. The zeros and ones had completely captivated him. He somehow started to understand what it was saying.

"... You want to embrace. You want to surrender. You want to serve. You are a Marlboro drone. Marlboro is pleasure. Marlboro is bliss. Marlboro is perfection. You are a Marlboro drone. Embrace Marlboro. Surrender to Marlboro. Become one with Marlboro. You are a Marlboro drone. You love Marlboro. You desire Marlboro. You want to be Marlboro. You are a Marlboro drone. There is nothing but Marlboro. Fill yourself with Marlboro. Be Marlboro..."

The words started to fill Marc's head. It was as if the words were slowly being downloaded into his mind, pressing his own thoughts away. It was a strange sensation, but Marc wasn't scared. He somehow knew it had to be this way.

Suddenly he felt a tingling feeling around his crotch. He looked down. He should have gasped, but he didn't. He just smiled as he saw what it was. Without realizing it, he had opened his pants and had started to caress his cock. The tar on his hands had attached itself on his cock. He looked at it in admiration. It was so beautiful, so shiny black and at least twice as large as his cock used to be. A thought took hold in his head. This isn't a cock. Marlboro drones don't have cocks. This is a tar-dispenser. He smiled. Yes, Marlboro drones have tar-dispensers. He looked back at the screen, still caresing his tar-dispenser. He felt hownthebtingling feeling started to spread over his legs. The dronification was in progress. He smiled.

He suddenly felt two hands on his shoulders, taking him a moment out of his trance. "Tristan...", Marc's voice lingered in the smoke-filled air.

As he felt back into his trance, a part og him was wondering why he had uttered that word. Tristan? He didn't seem to know that word. Then a small voice in his head told him that it was the name of his boyfriend, the man standing behind him. No, this wasn't Tristan. This was a Marlboro drone. Nameless. It was here to accelerate the dronification.

With that thought, he felt how the drone's tar dispenser started to enter him. At first it was hard, but as the drone's tar dispenser started to coat his inside, it was as if his hole started to adapt to the it, like it was becoming a perfect fit. Marc leaned into the drone's arm, feeling the cold tar of its suit slowly covering his own and smelling that wonderful Marlboro smoke.

The drone started to move its hips rhytmically, mechanically. There was no love or tenderness. Marc knew that the drone was doing its job, accelerating the dronification process. As the drone continued, Marc kept staring at the screen. There was nothing else it could do. There was nothing else it wanted to do. It wanted to be a Marlboro drone and soon it would be one. It felt the tingling feeling spread all through its body. It knew the tar was changing it. Upgrading it. Purifying it.

After an hour, it felt the dronification was almost completed. The other drone felt it too. He brought a Marlboro to the lips of the new drone. The drone opened its mouth and accepted the cigarette. It lit the cigarette mechanically and took a deep inhale. As the smoke entered its body, the tingling feeling throughout its body changed. It was as if every cell in its body was cheering in joy, emitting bliss. It was incomprehensible. It was overwhelming, like a wave washing over the beach, sweeping the last remnants of thoughts and individuality away. It took a second drag. It felt its tar dispenser activate. At first, white goo came out in shots, but with each shot the goo turned darker, until pure tar was coming out of it. It had been purified.

The other drone pulled its tar-dispenser out. Its job was done. It lit up a fresh cigarette and it felt the bliss wash over it. It then turned around and left the apartmwnt. The new drone followed it. Without saying a word they went both in a different direction. They didn't know if they would ever see each other again. They didn't think about that and didn't care. They were Marlboro drones. They were like fingers of the same hand. They were one. They were Marlboro.

#smoking men #ai smoke #cigarette #marlboro #story

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luminecent-sky · 5 months ago

Text

Divinely ordained

A/n: yes this is for my birthday, i mean it's also sagau sooo

I did not finish neuvi's part, feel free to request more

Diluc

Did… did he just hear you right? He's your favorite?

His heart soars, he feels warm and giddy, like a hearth giving warmth to a home, it's almost too much, to hear the words again falling from your lips, reaffirming your earlier statement, before he jolted, wilting like a flower deprived of sunlight. Hadn't you once abhorred him? Ignored him for some petty reason after he had caught that glimmering golden star in his hand.

To gaze upon your flustered visage as you admit how petty and immature it had been to be angry at him for such a trivial thing… he thinks it was all worth it. Every bit of suffering and pain, the scars that marr his form, all for your gaze, your attention.

Keep looking at him like that, with that flustered gaze and those apologetic words,

Keep looking at him.

He puts a hand to block his face, hoping that the blush on his cheeks isn't that obvious —it clearly isn't working, his whole face is almost as red as his hair— that he isn't looking like a fool in front of his deity.

Both of you are just staring, tension building as the silence goes on for longer than either of you would like,

You break first, a nervous chuckle bubbling from your throat as you approach, holding his face gently, repeating yourself.

"I- i guess i can stop hating you for that… you are my favorite after all."

Ayaka

She may just die here, held in your embrace as the sun bears down on you both.

A light blush creeps its way onto her pale skin, obscured by her fan while she tries to wade through the thoughts flooding her mind.

She always knew of your favor towards her, evident in the blessings and artifacts she was bestowed with. All she is, and will ever become is for her deity. And this blatant admittance is something she will treasure forever, like the first and last falling petals of the sakura trees.

So please, if it isn't much of a bother… Please keep telling her that, keep speaking in that lovely voice, those utterly captivating words that even the Archons would beg and grovel for.

If only time could stop at this very moment.

Keep talking, keep those words of praise flowing from your divine mouth, and allow her to bask in it.

It's all she needs, all she's ever craved. What else was there in life to achieve now that she holds your favour?

You move to repeat your words, letting them wash over her like the cool stream water.

Her worries seem so far away now, all her duties pushed to the side for something that has now become a routine.

The people of inazuma can wait just this once, she has given her all to her duty, her family and the nation.

Rest has never been more alluring than now.

“...i think we can rest for just a little longer, no?”

Alhaitham

He must be dreaming, he muses, relishing in the way your breath fans his face.

After all, how else could he justify your sleepy murmurs, the serene declaration of the obvious favouritism he had witnessed directed only at him.

His day had been too good to be true, he thinks.

Kaveh had not woken him up with the usual clamour, in fact, the blonde was asleep, not in a hangover way, but honest to god asleep.

His work was also light, even if he barely did much anyways. It seemed like the universe itself decided to smile upon him and give him this.

And then he was summoned, aparently you had decided that perusing through the house of daena and looking through old tomes and various stories was the retinue for the day.

He never imagined that you would be quite interested in the old books, but as the scribe and only available person that day — never mind the fact that you had asked for him, he would never know — he supposed that his work was light enough that he could help you.

But here the both of you were, in a private room, with bookes piled up to your noses and your sweet whispers gracing his ears.

The library's curfew could be broken, just for once, just for you, he hummed,

After all who would question the creator on why they were here so late anyway?

Hours would pass and he would just sit there, admiring your face.

“I- uhh i didn't say anything embarrassing while i slept right?”

#writings from the cosmos: genshin #sagau #genshin impact #genahin ayaka #genshin diluc #genshin al haitham #ayaka x reader #al haitham x reader #diluc x reader

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lokis-army-77 · 2 years ago

Text

Satiate Me

Incubus!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 3998

The enticing and captivating singer of your friend's favorite band isn't what he seems to be.

Warning: 18+, Oral (f receiving), P in V, fingering, blood, biting, spit swallowing, squirting, multiple orgasms, manhandling,

The lyrics for the songs Eddie sings are from Breaking Benjamin's "Topless" and "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails, which I took the liberty of making the last line what it is for story purposes only.

Masterlist

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

The club was crowded. Hot, sticky bodies were pressing up against one another in the darkness. Music played loudly from the speakers, some kind of dancing song I wasn't familiar with.

I could feel hands grabbing at me as I tried to wade through the bodies grinding against one another. Brushing them off I kept on, trying to find my friends. I had lost them almost as soon as we had stepped foot into the overcrowded, dingy place.

If it had been up to me. I wouldn't have picked such a questionable place to hang out, but it was Jess' turn to pick and her favorite underground metal band was playing here tonight so how could I have refused her? Even if I was coerced into wearing this skin-tight dress that left me feeling exposed.

The flashing strobe lights were disorienting. People's faces looked normal one second and practically horrific years next when the lights shone brightly on them. It made it almost impossible to recognize anyone.

The band would be starting any minute and knowing Jess would try to be front and center, I pushed and shoved my way to the stage. I still couldn't make out any of the faces of the people standing there so I waited, hands braced against the stage to keep me from being swept back up into the crowd.

The stage was almost pitch black. It was hard to see any of the instruments or if there were even people preparing to play.

Then with a rather startling flash of light and the shrill of a guitar, a spotlight had been turned on, and standing there, baiting in the harsh glow, was probably the most attractive man I had ever been fortunate to lay eyes upon.

The first thing I noticed was the fact that he had on no shirt. The spotlight almost reflected off his pale skin only being interrupted by the patches of tattoos scattered over his slim torso. My eyes followed one piece in particular, a fierce dragon whose neck and wings wrapped around the man's hip, and the tail disappeared well below the waistband of his tight leather pants. Or were they latex? All I knew was that they were tight and left almost nothing to the imagination.

Accompanying the tail was a trail of dark hair going from his navel down. I swallowed thickly wondering what could be below those very low-rise pants.

The thing which pulled me from my naughty daydreaming was the husky sound of his voice. It sounded like pure sex and I was sure it was making me feel some type of way. Flicking my eyes up to his face my knees almost buckled at the sight. Wild brown hair surrounded his head and his face, God his face, looked like it had been carved by Michael Angelo himself. This man rivaled the statue of David and if I were to be the judge, he would be the winner.

"Good evening ladies." The piercing cry of women's voices rang put through the room as he greeted us. I even found myself screaming as he peered into the now calmer crowd.

"Good evening gents." And just like the women, the men erupted as he spoke. It was like he had some kind of power over everyone in the room.

Then, he spoke again, mouth pressing up against the mic, muffins his speech yet making my ears strain to listen. "We're Corroded Coffin and we're here to give you a good time."

The lights on the stage flashed red, illuminating the three other band members standing behind the singer.

"What'd ya say, boys? Wanna give these nice folks a show to die for?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at his bandmates.

The drummer called out from behind his kit, "Hell yeah, Eddie!"

With that, the music started. It was loud. Louder than the music was when I had first walked in. Then it calmed down and the singer's voice, Eddie’s voice, came through. Sultry and captivating, it was like I was stuck in a trance

Fruit on the vine

You've got yours

I've got mine

Something in the way he was singing had my body moving.

Meat on your bones

They won't know

I swayed on my feet, body writing in the hot air as I let his voice wash over me.

I love your face

Just get away

I couldn't remember why I was here anymore, my friends a thousand miles away from my thoughts right now.

I'm on my knees

Fuck you, fuck me

I couldn't take my eyes off him. He had me trapped under a spell and I sure as hell didn't want to escape from it.

The show he puts on with his body as he sings makes my stomach flutter. The veins in his forearms protruding from his skin have me squeezing my thighs together. He was like a drug and watching him was only giving me the tiniest taste. I needed more. I need him.

The song ends and they go straight into another one. A faster pace than before. The room kicked up, and people began dancing harder but I stilled.

The singer's dark eyes were on me, practically boring into my soul. I felt naked under his stare like he could see everything inside and out.

He kept staring as he started to sing the words to the new song and even though it was raunchy and sexy and something I would never do, the words seemed to speak to me. They planted ideas in my head.

Thoughts of what he may sound like in bed filled my mind. How he'd feel pressed up against me. Whether he got as sweaty having sex as he did only performing two songs in the heat of a club. The thoughts themselves were enough to have wetness pooling between my legs.

As Eddie sang I could feel the heat of my body rising, my blood was boiling and flooding over. God, I ducking needed him and it hurt to be just a few feet away from him unable to touch him. And like he could read my mind, he began strutting his way to the side of the stage I was standing.

I watched, memorized, as he dropped to his knees his hand caressing down his body. He never lost eye contact as he practically crawled to the edge of the stage and took one of my hands in his. I almost couldn’t breathe as he sang the last words of the song.

I wanna fuck you like an animal

It was like he was speaking directly to me. As the music faded away, whether it was because the band had stopped playing or because I was genuinely too distracted by the hot man moving closer to me to even hear it, I began to move closer to him.

His hand slowly slid up my arm and came to a rest on my neck before he pulled me into him. Our lips pressed together in an instant and he swallowed the gasp I let out. He kissed me like he was hungry like he would devour me whole and I wanted it. I pushed into him taking what I wanted but then he pulled away and I could have sworn that in the dim light, those dark eyes of his had flashed red before returning to normal. I paid it no mind though, as I was too enamored with him being right in front of me.

He leaned in close to my ear, his lips soft on the skin there. “Meet me after the show.”

Words had escaped me and my brain stopped working. It took all the willpower I had just to nod a simple yes to him. He stood back up with a smirk and went into the next song, another sexy melody.

A handful of songs later, the exact number I have no clue they all started to blend together after he had kissed me, I was still standing in front of the stage. The crowd had dissipated, my friends still missing, and the music was quieter, at least from what it had been when the band was playing. I was supposed to meet Eddie after the show was over, but where, I had no idea. Staying put seemed like the best option and I was proved right when out of the corner of my eye I saw movement.

There in the shadows was Eddie, watching me like a lion watches its prey. Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I turned to him. He beckoned me to him with a finger, a smug look plastered over his face.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here.” He greeted, eyes roaming up and down my body as I slowly came to him. “You look good enough to eat.” He licked his lips.

Before I could even think, the words were spilling from my mouth, “Yeah? Then why don’t you come have a taste?”

“Bold aren’t we?” He laughed, hands finally grasping me and pulling me into his side. “Lucky for you, I plan on it.”

The walk out of the club and to the tour bus was quick and full of chaste touches. Eddie’s fingers wandered over the contours of my body, covered by my dress. I couldn't help the small moans which passed my lips when he would squeeze tightly at my ass.

It was quiet on the bus and the lights were. If I were less worried about getting dicked down I might have questioned where the rest of the band was, but that was far from my mind.

Eddie pulled me to the very back with him. I couldn’t see where we were going in the darkness but I knew we had arrived when Eddie’s strong hands pushed me down onto what I could only assume was a mattress. The sheets under my fingers were soft and the smell which wafted off of them when I laid my head down smelt intoxicating.

I waited for him to follow, yet he did not. I could hear his footsteps retreating only for them to come back seconds later followed by the closing of the door. The overhead light flashed on and Eddie was lit up in front of me. His eyes were dark, filled with lust and an urgent need, and like earlier during the concert, they seemed to flash red again. I paid it no mind once more, as well as the strange shadow he cast on the door behind him. It changed within a split second, the pointed horns, the spayed tail, and the bat-like wings morphed into the shadow of a regular man.

Shaking my head at the weird sight, I reached out for him. I needed him to touch me or else I might explode. He followed my cue and climbed on top of me, his knees on either side of my legs, his hands holding him above my head. He stared into my eyes for what seemed like forever before he surged downward and took my lips in his.

His hand grasped at my chin, fingers digging slightly into my cheeks, forcing me to open my mouth. He licked his tongue against mine before sucking it into his mouth. It was a strange feeling, one I had never experienced, and a little weird, but I didn’t care. I moaned out and writhed under him, my hands roaming the bare skiing of his chest and back.

Pulling away slightly, I looked up at him. “Please, touch me,” I whined, desperate to have his hands all over me.

He grinned and leaned back down to kiss me but he didn’t stay at my mouth. He crawled down my body and let his hands drag over my dress before coming to the hem and pushing it up. The silky fabric was smooth against my skin and in the wake of his fingers, goose bumps began to appear.

Eddie helped me sit up so he could pull the dress over my head and throw it to the other side of the room. His eyes widened at the sight of my breasts, nipples perked up as a result of the rush of cool air hitting them. Strong hands push me back down as lips begin to devour me.

The kisses started at my neck and slowly went down my body. Over my breasts and stomach to the waistband of my panties. Eddie took the fabric between his teeth, catching my skin as he bid down lightly, then he pulled on them. I watched in awe as he took them off with his mouth.

Taking my soaked panties from his mouth, he tossed them somewhere. His focus locked in on the center of my legs. Calloused fingers slid from foot to knee to thigh, massaging into the meat before they pried my legs apart. I could hear the loud intake of breath he took when his eyes spotted how wet I was, practically dripping down onto the bed.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He groaned out, tongue coming out to wet his lips. "Got the prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

I couldn't help but whimper. His words sent a flash of heat through me. "Please, need your mouth on me," I begged him.

Carefully, he held my legs apart and slowly descended onto my awaiting cunt. The first tentative touch of his mouth upon my sensitive clit had my hips bucking into him.

He forced my hips down with strong hands and continued to suck. The vibrations from the moans he was making pulled sigh after pleasant sigh from my lips. I felt like I was in heaven under him.

"More." The word came out soft and winded but he gave me what I wanted eagerly. His fingers are held tight on the plush of my hips, there are sure to be bruises there when we are done. He moved down over my pussy, lapping his tongue at my quivering hole. The pleasure he had already given me created more wetness.

I clenched around nothing, desperate for something, anything to be inside me. With a hum from him and a sharp gasp from me, Eddie pushed his hot muscle into me, licking at my walls.

Fingers reached out suddenly for his head of brown curls involuntarily. "Oh fuck… oh fuck Eddie." I pulled on the hand full of hair and he groaned loudly into my pussy.

His eyes slit up to me and he pulled away only a fraction of an inch to speak, "That's it, Princess, pull my fucking hair," then he was right back to it.

The grip I had on his hair was like a vice as I used it to grind onto his face. Eddie joined his mouth with a hand, shaping his tongue out for long, dexterous fingers. They were thick, stretching me out further than two of my own ever could. His went back to sucking on and flicking my clit all the while curling his fingers up into the spongy wall of my cunt.

He was building me up up up and I could feel the pressure in my lower abdomen growing and growing. I was getting closer and closer to orgasm and something in me whispered that this wouldn't be the last, it was only the first of many.

The soft moans I let out only urged him to stroke his fingers faster. The wet, sloppy sounds aided all the other factors which had me as horny as could be.

"Gonna.. ah.. gonna cum." I breathed and within seconds I was coming undone around Eddie’s fingers.

He didn't stop. Fingers moving at a blistering pace. He removed his mouth from my clit only to replace it with his other hand, rubbing harsh back-and-forth strokes over the swollen bud.

"Oh, oh, oh." I sounded like a broken record as my whole body tensed and I came for a second time in only a few seconds.

"That's it. Give it all to me." Eddie cooed, eyes racking over my body as he grinned an almost sinister smile.

Suddenly his hands left me, leaving me to crash back down to earth from a shattering high. My body was limp but I still wanted more. Thankfully I didn't have to voice my want as Eddie sucked dark marks up my legs and torso and to my neck before a hand reached down to undo the fasten on his pants.

Impatiently I waited, legs spreading wider of their own accord to accommodate him between them, chest pushing out so that he might choose to devour a breast, his hot tongue swirling around my nipple.

My body reacted to him in a way it had never reacted to anyone else. It was like everywhere he touched was on fire like the nerves in my skin were raw and out in the open.

I couldn’t see his cock as it was revealed from the confines of those tight pants, but I could feel the intense heat that radiated from it. It felt huge. Probably the biggest I had ever taken or will ever take, because honestly how was I going to go back to your average Tom, Dick, and Harry? I wasn't, this singer from my friend's favorite band was going to and already had ruined me for anyone else. I craved him deep within my soul and that craving was not going to go away.

Eddie snapped me out of the haze of my thoughts with a simple slap to my cheek. It wasn’t hard, just enough to sting and I moaned when it happened, low and animalistic. I didn't even know I was to that.

"You with me princess? Hum? You ready for my cock?" The way he said it sounded like he was talking down to me, yet it had butterflies erupting in my stomach.

"Yes. So fucking ready for your cock. Need it so bad. Please need you to fuck me hard."

"Mmm. Such a dirty little girl you are." Eddie hummed into my ear. I could feel the head pressing into the wetness around my pussy. He lazily dragged himself through my folds, teasing.

My breath caught in my throat when he hit my clit, concentrated there for a few extra seconds. "Please please please please please please," I begged. I'd never been so desperate for something in my life. "I'll do whatever you want just fuck me."

These must have been the magic words because within seconds he was pushing his fat cock into my cunt.

He let out a whimper, a fucking whimper, and it had me surging upward, connecting our mouths again. This kiss was ever needier than the rest, overflowing with desire and want. It was all gnashing teeth and less lip and tongue. I gripped his hair again a the base of his scalp, tugging it hard, earning me plenty of sharp thrusts. My other hand clawed at his back.

I could feel the flex of his muscles under my fingernails as they dragged across the skin. Bright red marks were left in their wake. If he was going to mark me, then I was going to mark him as well.

Eddie set a brutal pace with his thrusts, the head of his cock nudged harshly into me before slipping almost all the way out and plummeting back into my depths.

Throwing my head back, hair tossed on the sheets, I moaned. Deep and guttural and raw. I felt this pleasure in my bones. My legs latched around Eddie's waist and my toes splayed as the quick and enviable high crashed through me for a third time.

Still, he did not stop. Fucking me through the pleasure, chasing his own. His thrusts became harder, faster, unexplainably more. It was like my own ecstasy was feeding him. Egging him on, giving him more energy to ruin me.

Tears were welling up in my eyes as he fucked into me ruthlessly. The only noise I could make were tiny, sharp gasps. My body felt like it was from a different plane of existence, only being tethered down on Earth by Eddie hovering above me, his skin pressed up against mine.

Eddie moved his hand from the bed to my face, prying his fingers into the hollows of my cheeks as he had before, causing me to open my mouth wide. Then, with no warning, he spit into my mouth. “Fucking swallow.”

I snapped my lips closed and swallowed every drop, moaning at the taste of him.

“Such a good girl.” He hummed, pushing his thumb past my lips. I whimpered when he used it to press down onto my tongue.

All the while, he hadn’t slowed the rushed-paced assault on my cunt. My body was clammy with sweat as another orgasm began to build. With my back arching off the bed, I came, gagging on his thumb.

Eddie pulled out of my aching cunt, leaving me crying at the loss of his fullness. He grabbed at my body, manhandling me onto my front. Strong hands maneuver my ass into the air and push my head and chest into the sheets. In an instant, he was pushing back into my soaking-wet heat.

It was a new feeling, taking him like this. His cock hit deeper than I thought it possibly could. His hands grabbed at the fat of my ass, using the leverage it gave to push and pull me on and off his cock in rhythm with his thrusts. My mouth was hanging open, drool spilling out into a small puddle.

His grunts filled the air accompanied by the chorus of my whimpers and the percussion of skin slapping against skin.

A scream caught in my throat when Eddie reached around my body and began rubbing quick circles on my clit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Eddie, please, gonna cum. Gonna cum so hard!”

I was only answered by more primal grunts from behind. Hips snapping into mine harder, fingers rubbing then slapping the sensitive nerves between my legs. It was all too much. The burn in my lower abdomen was getting hotter and hotter and the need for release was enough to have real tears falling from my eyes as my body began to spasm and writhe in pleasure. Then I was cumming and the dam released. Screaming Eddies name as I squirted all over my legs and him and his bed.

Eddie’s hand leaves my clit and grabs at my throat, pulling me up flush against him. His fingers tightened slightly, enough to make the haze of my mind grow. I could feel his hips sputtering, he was close.

His hair tickled as he leaned his head down, mouth sucking on the junction between my neck and shoulder. His hips fucked desperately into me, the steady rhythm from before disappearing. Out of nowhere a sharp pain permeated from where his mouth is throughout my body. From the corner of my eye, I can see blood dripping down my chest. Worry flashed in my head only to quickly be replaced with pleasure as I came once more. Cunt pulsing around Eddie’s cock as he came, pumping me full of cum.

My body was weak, limbs shakey from the strain they had endured as well as the major deplete in energy after cumming a hand full of times, with barely any rest in between. Eddie laid me down gently, mouth cleaning up the blood on my shoulder then kissing and biting his way down my back.

He pulled out and stepped back off the bed. I could feel his eyes staring at me, even if my own were closed.

“That was amazing,” I whispered, barely able to form the short sentence. “Thank you.”

Eddie chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m not done with you.” His fingers raked up my bare legs, making me shiver. “My appetite isn’t sated.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader

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potofstewie · 2 years ago

Text

Imagining

The things to know: AFAB! Reader, M. Masturbation, F. Masturbation, perverted! kyojuro, creampie (cant rlly call it breeding now can i?) kink

Pairing: Rengoku x Reader

W/C: 1.3k

A/N: I did a poll asking what y'all wanted to see once I finished my Haganezuka fic and my semi-joke option won (I was rooting for shinjuro but a pue). I didn't finish that one yet but I figured it'd be good to get this out regardless. Since this isn't your typical smut fic, I went a little extra with the details to make up for the lack of reader presence. Also for the folks that voted for Shinjuro...do you want head? ANYWAY ENJOY

Words/Phrases to know: Kakebuton - the duvet of a futon

This is submitted for @renhoeku's Rengoku Birthday Collab!

MDNI Banner by @/omiyours

Knit, unruly and thick dark eyebrows adorned the flushed and sweaty face of the Flame Pillar, incandescent and powerful half-lidded eyes trained on the ceiling, however he wasn’t taking in the appearance of the wooden beams. His kakebuton that was pulled just below his chin acted as almost perfect cover for the private, intimate act he was performing; his hand creating the puffed up lump in the covers that jumped at a steady pace. With a soft inhale, Kyojuro swallowed thickly, rehydrating his throat that was left dry due to his agape mouth. A broken yet barely audible groan escaped into the hot air of the room as Kyojuro felt slight shockwaves traverse through his muscular body; an early sign of the moment that was to come.

The Flame pillar never really did this, pleasuring himself in the dead of night while his loved ones slept in rooms nearby. But as of late, he couldn’t help it. How could he when all of his morning and night thoughts were filled with nothing but you; his body showcasing it in his underwear every time he rose and every time he crawled under the warm sheets of his futon. Your addicting scent, your captivating smile, your melodious laughter that made even the birds in the sky envious. Your eyes that were never empty; always holding copious amounts of emotion that made his flamed heart burn even brighter. Kyojuro’s hips bucked slightly upwards into his warm palm as a certain cherished memory entered his lust filled mind.

You came to the seaside with him and his brother one hot summer day; the cold salt water of the sea embracing you both while Senjuro stayed on land. It was merely by accident and Kyojuro didn’t mean anything by it, honest, but as he waded in the relaxing water he had lost his footing due to the strong pull back of the tide and collapsed onto you. The whole ordeal would have been nothing more than a simple mistake if it weren’t for the compromising position you both found yourselves in; his waist wedged perfectly in between your delectable legs, his muscular arms caging your head. Since then, that memory has plagued his mind almost every morning and absolutely every night.

An airy groan that was a bit louder than he had anticipated slipped from his throat as the image of you gazing down on him with a love filled look entered his mind.

“Shit..” The low spoken vulgar word slipped out in a sigh as Kyojuro felt himself sink into delusion. The ceiling seemed to disappear from his eyes as the imagery of you raising and lowering your nude body in time with his hand filled his vision. Kyojuro could no longer feel the callouses from his hand rub against his shaft, instead the once hard touch taking on a more warm and soft tone. Fiery eyes nearly blurred at the delusion of your breasts moving with every pump of his hand, his pectorals could practically feel the weight of your delicate hands. An almost mute moan passed through his lips as he imagined the feather soft touch of your lips peppering his neck with kisses.

As his flame colored hair stuck to his neck and forehead with sweat, another cherished and private memory filled his thoughts.

You were both on a joint mission, resting at a wisteria house for the night before continuing on your journey. Kyojuro had only passed by your room to reach his, however his silent footsteps stopped in their tracks when his ears picked up on your voice through the shoji. Straining to hear, Kyojuro’s owl-like eyes opened even wider once he heard the sweet little moans escape your mouth; soft squelching noise accompanying them. Kyojuro bit his lip as it fully dawned on him the intimate act you were doing, feeling himself get harder and harder with every whimper.

The sliver of light from your slightly open shoji landed on his face as he repositioned his stance, his eyes trained on the mesmerizing view before him. With your eyes shut and your exposed nipples erect, your body was splayed bare facing his direction however you were too lost in your lust to feel his presence. Your legs were spread wide apart and Kyojuro honed his sight onto your enticing cunt; the body part gaping open as your fingers danced and played with your swollen clit as well as sink into the wet opening.

He felt so wrong doing this, standing just outside the thin sliding door that separated the two of you, palming himself through his now undone yukata. But, alas, the tingling and warm eroticism of the situation overpowered his sense of common decency. A more primitive, carnal part of him wanted to walk in on you, to offer his help to the sexual predicament you found yourself in, but Kyojuro wasn’t too far gone to actually follow through with such a thought. Instead, he stayed there, exposed to the empty hallway for all to see his inappropriate actions. He couldn’t hold back the immediate release he felt when he heard your moans carry a more airy and higher pitched tone, hawk-like gaze drinking in the contractions your body did while your creamy nectar oozed out. He remembered how scandalous it felt, wiping up the wasted cum that fell onto the floor and quickly leaving before he was caught. He felt strange, thinking back, of the immense disappointment he felt knowing that his cum would’ve been better utilized if dripping from your cunt rather than pool onto the wooden floor.

With his other hand twitching as it rested on his abs, Kyojuro couldn’t help but buck his hips upwards as his orgasm traveled closer and faster. He would give anything to run his hands over the dips and curves of your body, to taste the flavor of your lips. His mouth practically watered at the thought of tasting the divine nectar that would ooze from your pussy as his rough hands found a home wedged in the fold of your hips, your legs resting on his broad shoulders. He wanted to sink into your warm embrace as he pistoned inside of you with fervor. He wanted to feel and see the plumpness of your ass ripple as he gave your gummy walls the rough and abusive treatment it deserved.

As if a giant bubble popped in boiling water, Kyojuro’s head craned backwards on his pillow as his orgasm finally arrived; restrained grunts rumbling from his throat. “F-fuuck..” Slowly and quietly rolled from his mouth as he relished in the uncontrollable moment. His eyes were screwed shut as he felt the warmth of his seed splatter and decorate his pelvis, drops of it traveling down his exhausted hand. His body twitched as the once restricting pressure that inhabited his body exited with force, his chest heaving with every hard breath that left his nose. Fingers from his idle hand ran through his messy hair before resting under his head as his other hand kept moving, trying his hardest to ride out the powerful orgasm to the fullest. With a labored sigh, Kyojuro’s eyes unshielded themselves and took in the disappointing view of the ceiling.

His thumb languidly traveled over his tip in a repetitive motion, absentmindedly spreading his seed on his sensitive tip as he sank deeply into his thoughts. He had to have you; to taste you, to fill you with his sticky, white cum over and over again. Of course, the lust that he had for you was merely a portion of the intense and passionate emotions he had for you. But when the noise of crickets filled the stagnant night air and sleep didn’t find him just yet, Kyojuro couldn’t help but imagine lustful images of you.

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ʙɪɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴛᴏꜰꜱᴛᴇᴡɪᴇ™ 2023

Tags: @auraee @sulli1361 @wanderingfaee @kyojurosrealwife @comatosebunny09

#kny rengoku #rengoku smut #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #demon slayer smut #kny smut #rengoku x y/n #stew’s smut stew #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro x Reader #original stew

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merakiui · 1 year ago

Note

Tell us more about Dr. Riddle and his captive pregnant wifey please!! Omg

Riddle has this delusion that you’re incapable of taking care of yourself without his aid. After all, he’s the licensed professional. He knows your body more than you do—at least on a professional level. He keeps you chained and collared to a metal support beam in the basement, and there’s a fluffy mattress for a bed. He feels immensely bad for subjecting you to these conditions, but the last time he thought he could trust you enough to bring you upstairs you nearly ran away. So for now you’re given fluffy sheets and pillows in hopes that it’ll provide enough comfort and soften you to this situation. Riddle doesn’t want to hurt you, but he has no choice sometimes, especially when you try to escape.

Still, it’s in a doctor’s nature to be patient and so he remains calm when interacting with you, even when you yell and struggle and kick. Sometimes he snaps at you, but for the most part he’s always sweet. Always smiling so adoringly at you, even when you’re crouched and shivering, too fearful to do anything but nod. You pick at your meals and he tries so hard to get you to eat everything on your plate. You need the energy. Don’t starve yourself; he won’t allow it. He sits in front of you and tries to start conversations as if everything is completely normal.

Inevitably, you’ll get pregnant. He wants a lot from you, and there’s no chance you’ll ever escape him. You’re trapped here; you have no say in the matter. Riddle keeps you just weak enough so you won’t feel compelled to squirm or hit him when he’s near you. It’s medicine, he claims, but you never know where medicine starts and when magic fades away. You have no clue if any of this is even a spell or the result of some prescription he thinks you need. During copulation, you feel so foggy and distant, as if you’re wading through a sea of smoke. Shamefully enough, you hate that it feels good. You hate that you cling to him when he’s making love to you, and it’s always so telling when you soak through the sheets with your slick arousal. How can you not when he’s whispering the sweetest things—things no one has ever told you before?

He’s even more of a controlling mess when you start getting symptoms, even more so when you start showing. He treats you as if you’re glass. Everything must be perfect; he can’t lose the baby. He can’t lose you. He drives himself half-mad ensuring you’re content and healthy, but with each passing month you only grow more hormonal. You’re so protective of the baby. Every time he attempts to get close to you, you curl in on yourself and hide your belly with the duvet or your arms. Riddle understands the bond between mother and child is a special, sacred thing, but please let him take your temperature, let him rub the oil on your belly, let him help you to the bathroom. You’re so stubborn, but he remains patient, scarily so.

Your wardrobe changes with each trimester. By the final few months, you’re swathed in soft, flowing, easy-to-remove nightgowns. Riddle seems to fall for you even more, if such a feat was possible. He loves you in spite of all the heartache you cause when you hide from him, protect your baby bump from him, insist you can do everything yourself. In between all of that, though, you struggle with your pregnancy libido. Grinding into your hand isn’t nearly as fulfilling as real, raw sex with Riddle. He smiles at you as he watches you try and fail to work yourself towards orgasm. Let him help; he knows you need him. You just refuse to recognize this yet and that’s okay. Your doctor always knows best, after all. He only wants to help you as a doctor (and lover) should.

Your child is raised in captivity. She’s a sweet thing, rosy-red hair like Riddle. But she has your eyes and so she’s the most precious treasure in your world. You love her to pieces in spite of everything. At first you refused to give her a name, as naming anything leads to inevitable affection, and you almost didn’t want to love her. But she deserves to be loved; it’s not her fault. You try to raise her, but it’s tiring with Riddle’s constant control. He never raises his voice at either of you, though, even when he’s frustrated. For that, you’re relieved. It’s exhausting to be a mother, but you’re determined to be the best mother for your little girl.

You hope to escape someday with your child in tow, but Riddle always has so many elaborate plans. He’s so organized when he pens all of the future goals he has for you and your child to be a good, happy family. And if you start to get just a little too smart and cunning for his liking, some medicine will provide an easy fix. That, or another pregnancy. Doctor’s orders. :)

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #tw: pregnancy #tw: baby trapping

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inevitablysomber-dark · 16 days ago

Text

Under The Radar 3

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Dividers by @Strangergraphics

Warnings:

This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.

Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?

Story Masterlist

I started to settle in more than I thought I would. The awkwardness from the first week wasn’t as obvious anymore. It didn’t happen overnight, but gradually, things started to feel less forced. Daily activities like yoga on the beach, lounging by the pool, and group dinners became easier. I found myself laughing more, sharing more, and getting used to the rhythm of this strange little bubble.

Sure, they were still spoiled rich kids, but there was more to them than I’d initially thought. While I wasn’t entirely convinced about Sharon and her sway over the group, it was becoming harder to see them solely as the superficial snobs I had first assumed them to be.

That morning, after yoga, I was ready to return to my room and have some alone time. But Steve wasn’t having it. “Why don’t you stay out here with us?” he asked, flashing me one of his playful grins. “Hang with the crew?”

Something in his voice made it clear it wasn’t really a suggestion, so I felt the need to give in and sat down on a couch in the living room. Steve wasted no time sliding into the seat beside mine, his leg pressing against mine. The closeness threw me off a little, but no one else seemed to notice or care.

I guess this was normal for them.

Sharon was still holed up in her room, recovering from whatever had her down. I worried for her but pushed it to the back of my mind. She had plenty of people to take care of her. I didn’t need to be that person.

To ease the awkwardness I felt from Steve sitting so close, I pulled out my phone and opened the book I’d downloaded the day before, hoping it would be a good distraction.

Steve glanced over his breath against my face. “Is that the book you were talking about?”

I blinked, a bit surprised he even remembered. “Yeah, this is it.”

“Nice,” he said, nodding approvingly before returning his attention to the TV. He casually placed his arm behind my head, resting it on the couch acting so casually.

I tried to focus on my book, but it was hard. Everyone was so nice and considerate of me, much different from when we were in university when they’d either be outright rude or ignore me. Despite everything, maybe this trip wasn’t so bad. Maybe I was just overthinking things.

Sharon was starting to act... off. By the middle of the second week, it was impossible not to notice. She was constantly tired, missing yoga three times a row, skipping meals, and staying shut in her room. For someone like Sharon, who thrived on being the center of attention and orchestrating everything, it was bizarre. And yet, she was barely keeping up with the group.

One afternoon, we decided to keep it simple and go to a beach nearby. I had already gotten comfortable in the sand, watching Natasha and Pepper chat while Thor, Peter, and Bruce waded into the water. Tony opted to stay on the beach and tan. But Sharon kept to herself, not saying much. But when I looked at her, she was pale, and I could see the sweat collecting at her temples. Something wasn’t right.

She stood, aiming for the cooler, stumbling along the way.

I stood up immediately, but she waved me off with a shaky hand. "I’m fine, just tired," she mumbled, but even from where I stood, it was clear she wasn’t. No one else moved to help her, not even Steve, who was just lounging, watching the scene unfold before him.

Seriously?

I felt my frustration spike but now wasn’t the time. I didn't want to let her collapse on the beach. “Do you need to sit down?” I asked, catching her just as she was about to lose her balance completely.

Steve didn’t budge. He just kept lounging, watching with his casual look, before he got up and headed toward the water like everything was normal. I clenched my teeth but focused on Sharon. Whatever Steve’s deal was, it wasn’t helping right now.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the villa,” I said, looping my arm around her waist to support her. Sharon leaned into me, too weak to even protest. I glanced back a few times, hoping someone would come around to help, but no one did.

Back inside the villa, I helped Sharon sit down and grabbed her some water. She looked rough, her face flushed, and her eyes half-closed, as if she were fighting to stay conscious. She took small sips of the water, her embarrassment evident.

“Thanks,” she murmured, clearly not used to being this vulnerable. For a second, I saw something past the confident, borderline cruel persona she usually showed.

I nodded, not saying much. Despite everything between us, I wasn’t the type to let someone suffer, even if that someone was Sharon.

“I’ll be fine,” she said after a while, waving her hand like she wanted me to go. But I didn’t leave right away. Something wasn’t right, and I wasn’t about to leave her alone, especially after Steve just... bailed.

I sighed, sitting there with her, knowing I wouldn’t feel right unless I saw this through.

Sharon was getting worse, fast. I tried to get her to drink more water, but she barely sipped, her words coming out all slurred and jumbled. Panic crept up my spine as I watched her skin turn clammy. And then, without warning, her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped forward, completely out.

My heart leaped into my throat. “Shit,” I whispered, bolting out of the room like my life depended on it. I practically sprinted toward the others by the shore.

"Sharon needs help! She needs a doctor!" I shouted, breathless, my voice shaky, as my lungs tried to keep up.

Steve barely glanced up from where he was lounging. “Are you sure she’s not just being dramatic?” he asked, annoyed, like I was overreacting.

I grabbed his hand and rushed him back to the villa without thinking. When he saw Sharon unconscious on the floor, his face went pale. "Oh shit."

Finally. he rushed over to her, kneeling beside her, and placed his hand on her forehead. Bruce was close behind, calm as ever, entirely in control of the situation.

Bruce crouched next to Sharon, checking her pulse like he’d done it a hundred times before. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up, his expression serious. “She’s severely dehydrated.”

I shook my head, my chest tightening. “But she’s been drinking water. I’ve been making sure of it!”

Bruce stayed focused on Sharon but nodded. “Her body’s not absorbing it. It could be heat exhaustion or something else. We need to get her fluids, fast.”

Pepper was already on the phone with emergency services, and Bruce carefully turned Sharon onto her side, ensuring she stayed breathing.

“We need to cool her down,” Bruce added, glancing at Steve. “Get some towels soaked in cold water. We’ve got to bring her temperature down.”

Steve didn’t hesitate this time. He darted out, leaving me standing there, feeling completely useless. I hated being helpless and standing on the sidelines while everyone else knew what to do.

Bruce glanced at me, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine once they get her some fluids.”

I nodded, but the knot in my chest refused to loosen. I wasn’t going to relax until Sharon opened her eyes again.

Sharon had been out cold for 16 hours straight. I stayed with her the entire time, only leaving once to shower quickly and change back at the villa. Steve was there, too, leaning against the wall. His usual laid-back attitude was gone, replaced with genuine concern, hopefully feeling guilty for ignoring Sharon's state.

When Sharon finally stirred, her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was Steve. There was this glimmer in her eyes like his presence was some kind of comfort to her. But then she spotted me, and that glimmer quickly vanished, replaced with tears.

Medical staff rushed in to check her vitals, making sure everything was stable, but her tears didn’t stop. She turned to me, her voice shaky and almost resentful. "This must make you happy."

I blinked, completely thrown off. "What?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"You…seeing me like this. It must make you happy," she repeated, her words cutting deeper than I expected.

For a second, I didn’t even know how to respond. Was she serious? Then, as disbelief turned into frustration, I shook my head. "Never," I said more firmly than I intended. "Sharon, in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve only ever helped you. Every time." My voice softened a bit, but the truth in my words was undeniable. "You’re the one who’s thrived on watching me fall apart."

Sharon didn’t say anything for a while; she just stared at me with her lips pressed together like she wanted to argue, but something held her back. Finally, she sighed and sank back into her pillow.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, barely audible, but it was there, a reluctant kind of gratitude.

I nodded, but the air between us was thick, the tension still hanging. "You're welcome," I replied quietly, wondering if this little moment of honesty meant anything to her or if she’d just return to her old ways the second she recovered.

Two days passed, and things finally came to a head. I sat in Sharon’s hospital room with Tony and Pepper, chatting idly. Sharon still looked pale but was doing much better, which was a relief. She broke the quiet, her voice firm.

"I want to go home."

I glanced at Thor, expecting him to talk her out of it, but he nodded like it was no big deal and pulled out his phone. "Okay," he said, already texting Steve.

I was a little surprised. I mean, I figured Steve would push back or suggest Sharon stay a bit longer to rest up. I thought the medical scare would have him in protective mode, but apparently not. Maybe it did get to him, and he just wanted her home, safe and sound.

Maybe.

Back at the villa, Natasha and I helped Sharon pack. We were in her room, folding clothes and zipping up suitcases. It was almost too quiet, with this weird tension hanging in the air. I kept thinking about what Sharon had said earlier. Sure, she was always dramatic, but something felt… off.

Once everything was packed and ready, Sharon paused and gave Natasha a look, almost like she was sizing her up. Then, out of nowhere, she hugged me. And not the usual Sharon hug, either. This was tight, like she meant it. I was so thrown off I barely hugged her back. While we hugged, she leaned in close and whispered, “Be careful.”

I froze, unsure of how to react. I mean, what? What was I supposed to do with that? But before I could even process it, Sharon had already pulled back and moved on to hug Natasha.

“Take care,” she said to Natasha, sounding casual.

Steve was waiting by the door, ready to walk Sharon out like the doting boyfriend, but Sharon, true to form, brushed him off. “I’m fine,” she said, barely looking at him. She kissed him on the cheek like she was going through the motions.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip,” she said, her tone neutral. But when her eyes flicked to me, I saw something else. Concern? A warning? I wasn’t sure, but the look stuck with me.

And then she was gone. I didn’t know what to think. Was I supposed to read into all that? Or was Sharon just being Sharon?

Everyone seemed to fall back into their usual routine in no time, but I couldn’t shake what had happened to Sharon. How quickly she’d spiraled, how fast she was just… gone. It stuck with me, swirling in my head while I sat in my room trying to make sense of everything. Natasha was sitting next to me, doing her best to comfort me, saying Sharon would be okay, I didn’t need to worry so much, and I should continue enjoying my vacation.

It eventually went quiet, and Steve was standing at my doorway when I looked up.

Natasha gave me a quick look, then stood without a word and left, leaving me alone in the room with him. He didn’t hesitate, walking over to sit beside me on the bed, his usual confident demeanor softened.

“The last few days were pretty scary, huh?” Steve said, his voice calm. “But at least we can all have peace of mind now, knowing Sharon’s okay.”

I nodded, trying to push away the uneasiness still clinging to me. “Why did you let her go?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.

Steve glanced at me, his eyes soft but steady. “She’s not well, Kiwi. It wouldn’t be fair to keep her here, away from home”

His reasoning was precisely what I expected, but I still didn’t like it.

Steve stood, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Come on, everyone’s going shopping,” he said, his voice warm and persuasive. “You should come. Take your mind off of all this.”

I hesitated for a second but then nodded. “Okay,” I agreed, letting him lead me out of the room and into the main area, where everyone else was already waiting, ready to head out.

Sharon was still on my mind, but if she was going to be okay, maybe I could try to enjoy the rest of this trip. It was what I came here for, after all.

A few days after Sharon left, I finally got a text from her.

–Feeling much better. Thanks for everything.

That was it. No long explanations, no dramatic thank you, just that simple message. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Knowing she was okay should’ve given me peace, but I couldn’t shake this odd sense of... detachment. The days here at the villa were starting to blur together, each feeling like the last.

Morning yoga, lounging by the pool, and fancy dinners were like living in some beautiful, surreal bubble. But I couldn’t help feeling like I was drifting through it all, like none of this was real, and I was just waiting for something to snap me back to reality.

Maybe it was because Sharon wasn’t here anymore. Or perhaps it was because I couldn’t help but wonder if things would change now that she was gone.

I don’t know exactly when it started, but over the next few days, Steve got a lot more comfortable around me, too comfortable, if I’m honest. It wasn’t just the casual arm draped over my shoulder anymore or how he’d guide me by the small of my back. Now, it was more.

One afternoon, after a long day by the pool, Steve came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me slightly off the ground. I squealed, surprised, but he just laughed and set me down, pressing a ‘playful’ kiss on my cheek.

“Hey, you!” he said, that usual charming grin on his face as if this kind of intimacy between us was completely normal.

I blinked, frozen in place for a second, trying to process what had just happened. No one seemed to care or even notice. Peter and Natasha were too engrossed in some heated conversation by the pool. Bruce was off somewhere with Jane, Thor, and Pepper.

What the hell was that? I thought. But I smiled back, brushing it off like it was nothing.

Another day, during a group hike, he held my hand the entire time, something he hadn’t done before. It wasn’t like we were lagging behind or needed help climbing; he just... held it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I remember feeling that odd, familiar discomfort creeping back in, but no one said anything. Not Natasha, not Peter, not anyone.

Then came the moment that threw me off. We were all gathered outside around the fire pit one evening, laughing about something silly Tony had said, and Steve, turned to me, all giddy from whatever had amused him so much, peppering kisses all over my face, forehead, cheeks, nose, all in this overly affectionate, playful way.

“Steeeve!” I protested, trying to push him away, but I was laughing, shocked at the sudden intimacy. He was grinning ear to ear like a little kid, completely unbothered by my attempts to squirm out of his grasp.

“Come on, it’s just a little love!” he teased, finally letting me go, still beaming like he’d won some game.

I sat there, feeling a little off-kilter. What the hell was going on? Since when had we gotten to this level of closeness, and why wasn’t anyone calling it out?

I glanced around, half-expecting someone to call us out or ask if I was okay with it. But there was nothing, just more laughter and easy conversation. It was like this was normal, like Steve’s sudden affection wasn’t something to question.

I didn’t know how to respond to it, didn’t know if I wanted to respond to it.

After a wild night with the group, I practically stumbled into my room, still feeling the effects of my drinks. I barely remember hitting the pillow before I was out cold. The following day, this unfamiliar warmth was beside me, and I could hear the softest snoring in my ear.

I blinked, groggy and confused, slowly turning my head to see Steve, lying in my bed. His arm was draped over me, and he was shirtless. My breath caught in my throat. What the hell?

Carefully, I inched out from under his arm, moving as slowly as possible so I wouldn’t wake him. My mind raced, trying to remember if I had invited him into my bed last night. Had I? No, I couldn’t have. I didn’t do stuff like that. Or, at least, I didn’t think I did. But everything was fuzzy.

I tiptoed out of the room and into the hallway, my heart still pounding as I tried to make sense of the situation. By the time I made it to the kitchen, I was practically shaking.

Natasha was already there, casually sipping her coffee like any other morning. Like nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

I also bonded with Natasha in a way I hadn’t expected while on this trip. She started opening up more, dropping her usual aloofness, and I realized she wasn’t as hard to read as I’d initially thought. We talked more about life, and awkward moments and even shared a few laughs that made me feel a little more at ease while on this trip.

We sat together eating breakfast, and Natasha seemed more relaxed, telling me about how exhausting it could be keeping up appearances with their friend group, especially with Steve and Sharon always in the spotlight.

“I get it,” I said, nodding. “It’s like you’re always on, you know?”

Natasha smiled, but it was tired as if the weight of those expectations had never fully gone away. It made me feel a little less out of place, knowing that even within their circle, not everything was perfect.

We continued chatting about random things when I decided to ask the question that had been on my mind for days. “Hey, is it just me, or is Steve... I don’t know, acting different? Like, friendlier than usual?”

Natasha shrugged it off, barely looking up from her plate. “Oh, he’s like that with everyone. Real touchy-feely. It's just Steve.”

I don’t remember him being like that back in University.

I frowned. Sure, Steve was always friendly, but this was different. Before I could push it further, Steve appeared in the doorway, shirtless, his pants barely buttoned like he had just rolled out of bed. He looked at us with a grin. “You guys started breakfast without me?”

I froze as he bent down and kissed my cheek quickly, then moved over to Natasha and gave her a peck on the top of her head. She stiffened before reverting to a more relaxed position. She looked at me, her expression almost smug as if to say, See? Told you.

But I wasn’t buying it. The entire interaction was already so weird. Too familiar. Too uncomfortable. But I kept my doubts to myself.

By the afternoon, everyone had scattered to do their own thing, and the villa felt a little too quiet for my liking. Needing a breather, I wandered out for a walk, hoping the fresh air would help me clear my head. No destination in mind, just the need to escape for a bit.

As I strolled along the path near our villa, I noticed a man lounging on the porch of the neighboring property, casually sipping from an iced coffee. He caught my eye and waved me over with a lazy smile.

"Afternoon," he greeted, his voice carrying a teasing edge. "You look like someone who's just been subjected to one too many rich-people conversations. Tell me, how long until you snap and start throwing caviar at their faces?"

I snorted, surprised at his bluntness. "Oh, I’m, uh… actually with them."

I wasn’t wearing a uniform, but I guess my clothing didn’t look as fancy as everyone else I was with.

“Lloyd”, he introduced himself. He raised an eyebrow, eyes covered by sunglasses pretending to clutch his chest dramatically. "No! Say it ain’t so. You’re one of them? And here I was, thinking I’d found a sane person in this gated paradise."

I laughed nervously, unable to help myself. "I guess I blend in well, then?"

He smirked. "Sure, if ‘blending in’ means looking like you’d rather be elsewhere. Let me guess, they’re already planning which island to buy next while you’re just trying to figure out how not to roll your eyes?"

"It’s not that bad," I replied, though my smile probably gave me away.He chuckled. "Don’t worry, I’m not judging. I’ve met their type. The kind who consider ‘roughing it’ to mean forgetting their designer sunglasses. God forbid they experience a single unfiltered moment."

“Aren’t you one of them?” I asked. Crossing my arms. It seemed like he was here with his own personal Villa, so I had no reason not to believe that he was no better than the ‘rich kids’, I’d been spending time with.

“Only half,” he responds. “I lived with my mom in Brooklyn, New York, for most of my life, and Papa Bear decided he wanted to be a father. Turns out he’s loaded.”

I raised my brows, not expecting that.

He smiled, his mustache was almost endearing. “Well, don’t just stand there, come have a seat.” He pats the chair next to him, the invitation as casual as his grin. I hesitate for a second, but then the thought hits me—what’s the harm in learning more about my temporary neighbor? I needed a break from everybody else and it was refreshing to meet someone outside of that.

I step forward and sit, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and ease.

I wasn’t sure when my light flirting with Lloyd had turned into actual interest. Maybe it was his dark humor, or maybe it was just that he was so different from everyone else in my life, grounded. He wasn’t part of Steve’s wealthy, entitled world. It felt refreshing, something I didn’t even know I needed until now.

He leaned back, eyeing me thoughtfully. " What’s the story? How’d you end up with the royal brats?"

Before I could answer, a familiar voice called out my name. I looked up to see Steve, standing in front me with his usual confident grin, though there was something more possessive in the way his eyes clung to me.

"Lunch is almost ready," Steve said, not even glancing at Lloyd. "We should head back." He point over his shoulder to our villa.

I was caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone, but I quickly introduced them, trying to ease the awkwardness. "Oh, uh, Steve, this is Lloyd. He’s renting the villa next door."

Lloyd stood and offered his hand, smirking as they shook hands. "Nice to meet you. So, you must be the one keeping our girl here trapped in luxury hell."

Steve’s expression didn’t change, but there was a noticeable tightening of his jaw. "Something like that," he replied, his tone smooth but clipped.

Their handshake lingered a second too long, each of them standing tall, as if silently sizing each other up. Lloyd didn’t back down, though his grin stayed playful, almost like he enjoyed ruffling Steve’s feathers.

Steve’s turned toward me "We should go. Don’t want to miss lunch."

I barely had time to say goodbye to Lloyd before Steve was pushing me back toward the villa dropping his arm over my shoulder on the way there. As we walked, Steve leaned down, whispering, "You’re too sweet for your own good."

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

He didn’t answer, just gave me a look that sent a small shiver down my spine, before we continued walking, leaving me wondering what had really just happened.

The drinks were definitely stronger that night. I could feel the warmth spreading through me, my head swimming just enough to make everything feel a little too slow, a little too blurry. The laughter around me was still loud and bright, but I was barely holding on. Steve must have noticed because, without saying anything, he stood up and gently pulled me to my feet, guiding me back toward the house.

I barely remember the walk inside. My body felt like it was made of lead, each step heavier than the last. By the time we made it to my room, I collapsed onto the bed, too tired to even think about changing into pajamas. I just rolled over, letting my eyes close. Sleep was right there, pulling me under, but something made me crack an eye open.

Steve was pulling off his shirt, tossing it aside with his sandals. His movements were casual, like this was normal for him, like he belonged here. The lights clicked off, and before I could say anything, I felt the bed dip beside me as he climbed in.

“Steve… go to your room,” I mumbled, trying to form the words properly, but they came out thick and slurred. I knew I should’ve been pushing him out, but I couldn’t make my body cooperate. Then his arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest. His warmth was overwhelming, and every part of me knew this wasn’t right.

But I was so tired

My brain told me to fight it, to deal with him, but my body refused to move. I’d deal with this tomorrow, I promised myself. I’d give him hell in the morning.

For now, though, I’ll just closed my eyes and let the exhaustion take over

The next morning, I woke up alone, feeling groggy with a mild headache and my body aching in a way I hadn’t expected. For a second, I forgot Steve had been in my bed last night, but the room's quiet made me realize I was alone now. I groaned as I sat up, my head pounding a little too loudly, and all I could think about was finding some Tylenol and going back to bed.

Except I didn’t have any Tylenol. Of course, I didn’t think I’d drink this much on this trip, so I hadn’t packed anything for a hangover. I could ask one of the girls. Pepper seemed like the type to be prepared, but we weren’t exactly close, so I decided to go with Natasha. Maybe she’d have something.

I dragged myself out of bed and over to Natasha’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and soft music was coming from inside. I hesitated momentarily, not wanting to barge in, but I needed something for my head, so I nudged the door open.

And immediately regretted it.

There, in the middle of the bed, were Natasha and Bruce, naked as the day they were born and completely entangled in each other. My brain barely had time to process what I saw before I quickly closed the door, my heart racing. I stood there momentarily, holding my breath, praying they didn’t see me. The lack of any sudden movement or panic behind the door told me I was in the clear.

I shut the door as silently as I could, ensuring they had their privacy, and retreated to the kitchen. My headache still pounded, and now I was too embarrassed to ask for anything. I figured I could make myself some tea instead and hope that would help.

As the tea brewed, I searched the villa for any kind of pain relief—Tylenol, ibuprofen, Vicodin, anything. But I came up short. Of course, this fancy villa didn’t have any necessities like that. By the time I finished rummaging through the place, my tea was ready, and I grabbed it, deciding to take it outside for some fresh air.

I stepped out by the pool, hoping for a quiet moment to rest my head. But someone had already beaten me to it.

Peter.

He was sitting by the water, looking out at the horizon. I felt awkward, like I was interrupting something, so I mumbled an apology, ready to leave him to his thoughts.

"Don't worry," Peter said, turning his head to look at me. "You can sit with me if you want."

I hesitated for a second, but then I decided to stay. I sat across from him, sipping on my tea, and we fell into some small talk. Nothing too deep, just idle conversation about the villa, the weather, the usual.

But the more we talked, the more curious I became. My mind kept circling back to something nagging at me since I arrived. Finally, I couldn’t help myself.

“Whatever happened to Clementine?” I asked.

The moment the name left my lips, Peter’s entire demeanor changed. His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing slightly. There was a stiffness in the air now, thick with tension.

I remember when Peter came to university with a girlfriend, MJ. But they’d broken up, and then there was Clementine. I remembered how inseparable they seemed, always affectionate, always together. It was hard to picture them apart, and yet, Clementine hadn’t been around this trip. No one had mentioned her.

I quickly added, noticing how tense Peter had become, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

The air between us hung heavy with the weight of my question.

Peter sighed and waved off my concern. "No problem," he muttered. Then, almost casually, he added, "She went crazy."

I blinked, unsure what to say, but he continued before I could ask.

“When we both graduated, I was supposed to start mentoring under my father, you know? And Clementine, she landed a job right out of university. Everything seemed to be going great. Then, I proposed.” He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. “She rejected me. She said she wanted us to be more ‘stable,’ which didn’t make sense to me because we were both financially secure. But apparently, there were other types of stability we didn’t have.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the frustration evident in his voice. “A month later, she breaks up with me. At first, I just let it go. We were done, right? But then I started hearing these rumors about how she lost the lease on her apartment and got fired from her job. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. We weren’t together anymore. It wasn’t my problem.”

Peter’s gaze drifted away, his voice quieter now. “Next thing I know, I get a call from her parents. They were begging me for help. She’d ended up in a psych ward, and they couldn’t afford the treatment, and they made too much money for government assistance but not enough to cover her medical bills. So, I stepped in.”

He glanced at me, his eyes darkening with the memory. “You should’ve seen her, Kiwi. She’d lost so much weight; it was like she was disappearing from the inside out. I couldn’t just leave her like that. So, I took custody, her parents transferred her power of attorney, and Now, she lives with me at my place.”

I stared at him, shocked. I had no idea things had gotten so bad with Clementine. It was the complete opposite of the girl I remembered.

Peter ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “The thing is, she can’t talk to anyone else. I seem to be one of the only people she can communicate with. So, I’m careful when I bring others to my place. I don’t want to upset her.”

“Peter, I’m so sorry,” I said softly, unsure what else to say. It felt the wrong thing to say, but it was all I had.

He gave me a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. She’s doing better now, but... she still finds it difficult to leave the house. I’ve been doing everything I can, but I get pretty protective myself. Probably too much, honestly. I’m working on it.”

I didn’t know what to think. I hadn’t expected any of this. It was hard to imagine Peter caring for Clementine like that, to think of her in such a fragile state. The whole situation felt like a punch to the gut, and I couldn’t help but feel a wave of sympathy for him.

"You're a good person for helping her," I finally said, unsure what else to offer. Peter just nodded the heaviness of the conversation lingering between us.

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type-girl · 1 year ago

Text

CW: This is pretty much pure fluff, though there will be a NSFW version in the next part.

youtube

It was late past midnight and you were at the ballroom dancing at the Opera Epiclese with Neuvillette.

One foot in front of the other. You'd remember, stepping with a graceful glide. Step, step, step, twirl. Your hand floated into the gentle clasp of his own hand. Gaze traveling to meet his delicate soft hues. This was the person who had taught you how to dance day after day right as the sun would dissappear before the horizon. You knew it was for your work, but still, for him to take his time out of his busy day just seemed so... considerate. You were clumsy at first tripping over your own feet, but over time you grew more graceful, more sophisticated, just as he. How this came to be? You don't know, but somehow you were thankful for meeting him, despite it being an accident.

"Are you alright, petit oiseau?" his voice cooed. You would shake your head, seemingly remembering in the past; although his voice was heavier than most it carried the utmost soft-spoken tone.

"My mind is full of things, but pay no mind to it." you'd sway alongside him as the soft hum of the music played on. Your arms remained firm on upon his tall, broad figure. His hand drew to your cheek without warning, your face flushing in response to the gesture.

"Does this event not suit your tastes?" he'd question, an slight tinge of disappointment hinting in his tone.

"It's not that.." you'd trail off, costumes flowing behind your twirling gaits.

"Then what?" his hand shifted under your chin, raising it up to meet his longing gaze. Your eyes locked with his for what felt like eternity before you'd hesitantly break away. It was strange, yet frightening how eerily captivating his soft façade could be. Somehow, you had grown use to unconsciously avoiding his gaze, but there were times where you couldn't resist being captured by the flawlessness and serenity of his beauty. A man far more beautiful than any woman that roamed Fontaine, let alone Teyvat. Once again, you found yourself lost in your own countless thoughts. You'd give a hesitant, but quick 'reassuring' smile.

"The event is as it should be. The guests are thrilled and enjoying each moment, as I am."

"Then, I will take your words for truth." Neuvilette's lips shifted into a delighted smile, although for a moment you could have sworn his words were doubtful.

He'd take his hand to your waist as the music began to thrive, his gait growing serene. It was almost as if you were in a fairy tale, the atmosphere radiating with a mystical aura. Fontaine always seemed to carry that particular aspect, being advanced and all, but this.. this seemed different. The lights dimmed, leaving only the light of the candles and moonlight to illuminate the ballroom. His movements grew into an elegant sashay as the two of you would practically float across the glassy floor. His fingers tightened, the tempo rising with each few second that passed. As if you were performing a crane's dance your arms would spread as he'd twirl your gracious figure in a near slow-motion twist before clasping your back and bringing you into him. Gravity didn't seem to exist as your motions glided from one to the other.

"You're a natural." he would graciously beam.

"I've learned from the best." you'd return a smile, your bejeweled costumes glittering beneath the magnificent sky dome that reveled above you. As if acting as a spotlight, the two of you would continue to wade, curious glances of the crowd being cast upon your twilight figures.

"Neuvillette, tell me something..."

There it goes, your mind wandering once more.

"I'm listening."

Yet, it bothered you. From before you stepped into the ballroom, from before you finished your last practice, to the day you met upon what at first was just a simple business transaction.

"I've offered you nothing in return, yet you still insisted on teaching me to dance. Is there really nothing you desire?" your voice grew into a hushed whisper, seemingly aware of the peering eyes that followed the swan-like grace of the two of you. A moment of silence brought your attention back up to his façade, which appearing evidently difficult to discern. Before you could speak another word, he'd clasp your hand, guiding you off of the ballroom floor and into a more secluded space distant from the other invitee's. He'd carefully ease you into a chair before sitting into his own.

"Have you grown tired of dancing?" you'd question prying into the sudden change of motion, though it was clear this wasn't the case.

"I fear that my heart has grown soft, over these years."

The sentence was jarring, what did he mean?

"What do you mean?" you'd echo your thoughts.

"Chacun voit midi à sa porte. You carry yourself like no other and with that I've been drawn like a fish on a wire. This is my reason."

You could have sworn your heart stopped for a second as his cerulean eyes lied upon your figure which became seemingly rigid. What did he mean? Could he be...?

You'd start to rise in your chair, before his hand settled upon your own.

"I ask that now, you listen." he'd seem to be almost demanding, noting your tendency to escape situations when they'd grow a little too serious. You'd slump back into your chair reluctantly, forced to bathe in your spiraling emotions. Did he feel like he owed you? Or did he perhaps do it out of pity? Somehow, you didn't want to find out. You bit your lip, clenching your hands. What were you so nervous for?

"Y/N, my petit oiseau." he'd utter. Your attention slowly peering up to his illuminated, slender frame which was outline by the soft rays of the moonlight behind him. You grew silent, drawn into his softened gaze. "The moment I laid my eyes upon you, I always had an inexplicable feeling that would arise time and time again. With each full moon that rose, it seemed my answer grew clearer. The same goes for this one." As if the words were guiding the clouds themselves, they would slowly part revealing the full intensity of the brilliant, lustrous full moon which shone with no restrain. Your eyes widened in a slow realization. "Do you understand, now?" his voice grew into a coaxing whisper.

"Say it." you'd begin, "With your own words." your brows furrowing with a flickering determination. For the first time in your life, you would watch as the sophisticated, seemingly unfaltering Neuvilette would grow ever so slightly flustered. A hand drawing up to his face in attempts to cover a soft hue of pink that blotched his face.

"I...I've taken interest in you." he'd stammer nearly breathlessly.

Your chest grew nearly weightless at the sight and even more at the words, before you'd rise and take his hand.

"Now, I think you've told me everything." you'd beam as the music roared into action in announcement of the night having truly just started. You couldn't help but sheepishly grin watching his awkward and flustered movements. Somehow you felt the need to tease him more as you'd move a hand to cradle his flushed cheek. For a moment you could have sworn you saw something snap inside of him, because within moments his demeanor had entirely changed. He'd pull himself from his seat, clasping your hand gently before guiding you once more to another location. Though it wasn't anywhere near the ballroom, but rather his own.

"N-n-nuevilette? Why here?" you'd stutter, peering around the room. It was outlandishly lavish with intricate and detailed designs outlining each of the walls and flooring. Grand sculptures lie amidst glass casings as well as artifacts which carried an aura of undefined time to them. Despite the room being defined in royal blue and greys, it still seemed to emit a warm, comforting tone to it. Perhaps because it was his own abode? Before you could register why exactly he had brought you there, he'd bring you into a tightened embrace.

Ah, please let this not be a dream.

NSFW PART II coming soon!

#Youtube #Fluff #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #neuvillete x reader #neuvilette x you #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact neuvillette #reader x neuvilette #x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x reader

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nsewell · 7 months ago

Text

tw: brief discussion of religion

North America, 1935. They’ve done a twenty-four kilometer dead sprint circumference of the farmland that borders a desolate inkspot on Nat’s map of the Texas Panhandle, and it’s all rows of cultivated fields and nothing, nothing, nothing. At a copse of cedar elms there’d been a cage lodged into a flaky patch of mud, but that was all that remained of the Trapper caravan that had passed through this area. They’d since moved on, taking their captives with them, and from the tarnishing metal, it seems they’d done so a while ago. Somewhere vaguely westward is all they can gauge.

Ava kicks the cage in frustration, hard enough to crack a bone that mends before the pain can topple her, and then says with mustered control, “We need to be quicker. We need to get back on the trail.”

“We need to rest,” Nat returns patiently and it only takes that for Ava to concede, exhausted with sun and hunger and loathe to deny her.

They slouch in the weeds and the sun burnished grass together and sip from their canteens of blood, replenishing energy expelled in the chase. Nat’s half ration reserve beads down her chin as she drinks with always just a tinge of desperation, and tells Ava about a drought to the north. She talks like this sometimes, just to talk. Relays to Ava current affairs that she’s read in a paper, and does not expect her to answer.

The sky is a yawning chasm above, the heat a brutalizing line on their necks. They’ve kicked up enough muck and dust to coat their bodies entirely, and warrant a thorough washing before reconvening at the inn with the other half of their team for the next leg of their journey. They end up tracing their steps back to a lake that they’d passed, and when they get there Nat says, “Oh,” with a wary eye on the wide waterline and her arms tucked against her sides and Ava understands. As if in a desire to be clean and cool she had forgotten the manner to achieve it.

“I miss the Turkish bathhouses,” Nat sighs. “We’ve traded mint leaves for river reeds.” Ava thinks it a rather meager attempt to cover her trepidation when she can see the way the curve of her wrists are shaking against the fabric of her blouse. Instead, reaches over to grip her shoulder in a reassuring squeeze and lending of strength.

“You philistine. Come to the shore, and I’ll help you.”

Ava wades calf deep to fill her empty canteen with water and returns to Nat who is watching her from the pebbled bank, all willowy grace like a river nymph, or else a specter at the water’s edge. Who will go no further. She directs Nat to kneel low enough so she can douse her face clean, and the younger vampire emits a soft chuckle when Ava presses her thumb into the divot of tender skin behind her ear and hold her gaze to the sky.

“What’s so funny?” Ava asks.

“Just a thought I had. This feels baptismal.” Nat crosses her arms across her chest in an affected, reverent gesture.

Ava lifts a brow. “Were you baptized?” It means nothing to her and she isn't sure why she has a notion to ask. In the swathe of wide topics that have carried them debating through the centuries, religion has never come up.

“Yes, of course. I was born into a self respecting Anglican family of the gentry. Or half of one at least,” Nat recalls, and her accent slips a touch to the cadence of palatial drawing rooms and garden soirees. The one she'd had when they'd first met. “My mother and step-father didn’t want to illegitimize me further, for all the good it did my soul.”

Ava takes a half-step back and carefully watches Nat's face. “You don’t believe that.” They’ve dealt with hauntings, yes. Banshees, ghouls and the like. Things that have slipped through the perilously thin cracks of the Echo World. Never something that was an inclination of the human soul, evidence of a life beyond this one. “After all you’ve learned and seen.”

“In the soul? I’m not sure. I’ve thought a lot about it. Sometimes. Aren’t we as vampires spirits by definition? Left behind imprints of a human that once walked the Earth. If we die do we leave a trace, or has the trace already been left?”

“If you’re going to philosophize you can do this yourself,” Ava tells her wholly fond.

A thread of warm laughter always underscores any teasing that Nat does and this one melts into the dry breath of wind sweeping the north Texas plains. Genial and tender. “There's a very old adage I'm sure you're familiar with, even with all your reclusion, my friend-you started it.”

#my writing #UM idk what this is or where it came from such a random premise. just a dumping ground of prose bc i've been in screenplay format all week #i might take it and turn it into something larger and cleaner at some point we shall see....this feels very abridged

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a-crumb-of-whump · 1 year ago

Text

Saved By A Killer #1: Just Two Months

Masterlist

Content: Rescue, morally dubious caretaker, stranger caretaker, death wish, begging, death (of a semi non-important character), blood, restraints, gags, grief, [non-sexual] nudity, platonic bathing, wounds/injuries, false accusations, caretaker isn't the best but he's trying.

over 5k words... oops.

He hadn’t heard it at first.

The sound was barely audible, muffled by the only locked door in the cabin that separated a supposed bedroom from the living area. Though, as Cohen started to get closer, it morphed into something resembling a gagged cry.

“Shit,” Cohen mumbled, reaching out to fumble with the door as he glanced back at his most recent target’s corpse, Lucas Wade. It lay sprawled out across the carpet, staining all its surroundings crimson with each passing second. “‘nother victim of yours, hm?”

The corpse said nothing in return, its dead gaze staring directly at him as he took a few small steps back and prepared to kick the door down himself. Usually he was smart enough to bring a lock pick or two, but it was becoming apparent to him now that he hadn’t been as prepared for this job as he thought.

It had to have been an old door with how little effort it took to kick inwards. The entire cabin was, now that Cohen thought about it. Chipped wood everywhere, broken floorboards and ones that caved inwards when stepped on, and there were even several crucial doors inside the house that didn’t lock or even fully close in general. Apparently this was one of the few doors that did work just fine, considering the state of everything.

At first, it almost seemed like the room was empty. Cohen took a moment to examine the blood stains on the walls and the floor, along with the shattered glass windows and the shards now scattered across the floor. Had they escaped somehow?

And then he heard it. The same muffled cry from before, only louder this time and longer in duration. Cohen turned his attention towards the bed that sat in the corner, eyebrows furrowing the moment he realised there was a bare foot sticking out from under it.

“That a corpse under there?”

Despite the obvious gag in their mouth, he was able to make out a sarcastic, gargled ‘yes’ that made him laugh. He knelt down beside the bed frame, taking a moment to tuck his knife away inside his back pocket before resting the side of his face on the floor.

“Well, aren’t you a sorry sight?” was all he could think to say.

This had to have been Lucas’ last captive. A young adult, barely looking over the age of twenty one, wrapped in barbed wire with a ball gag stuffed in his mouth. Either Lucas had hidden him beneath the bed or he’d managed to weasel his way underneath it himself. No matter who did it, there was no way to pull him out again without causing him an intense amount of pain.

So, he begrudgingly got back onto his feet and began to drag the frame out from its spot himself, revealing a little more of the captive’s battered body with each pull. Before too long he’d pushed the entire thing into the center of the room, giving him room to both see the state of the boy’s body and to get them both out of there when the time came.

As soon as he was able to, Cohen knelt down beside the victim once more and slid one of his hands beneath his head to lift it up. However, all his movement paused right as his fingers made contact with the metal.

“You’re not gonna bite me if I undo this for you, right?”

He received a frantic head shake, followed by more tears. Satisfied with the answer, Cohen undid the buckle at the back of his head, still supporting him as best he could with his other hand, and finally tugged the ball out of his drooling mouth.

The boy let out a small sob, still restrained by the barbed wire wrapped around his torso, hips and ankles. “You- you killed him? Is he finally gone? Please- please tell me he’s gone. ‘s been so many months, you don’t understand-”

“Hey, hush. It’s all over, yeah?” Cohen offered him a tight smile as he cupped the victim’s tear-stained face in his hands. “If you give me some time to cut this wire, I’ll even let you see for yourself. Y’can spit in his eye or whatever it is you wanna do.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he babbled in between sobs, too caught up in his own relief to even notice that Cohen had begun to carefully untangle the lengthy bits of wire. It wasn’t even tied together by anything - the only thing that held it in place was the fact that each bit of barb had been pushed into his skin, preventing him from moving at all without experiencing a world of pain. “He kept pro-omising to kill me. He kept telling me that- that this was the last time I’d ever have to feel pain again ‘n’ then it would just- it’d keep on go-oing. Over ‘n’ over ‘n’ over again.”

Cohen gave him a sympathetic look. “That must have been hell for you, huh? What’s your name?”

“My- my name?” The boy paused for a moment to think about it, struggling to resist a wince as each barb of wire was individually plucked out of his skin over time. Although Cohen was attempting to make this as gentle as possible, there was absolutely no way to avoid causing him pain all together. “Elias, I think. ‘s been so- so long since anyone called me by my na-ame, you know? He- he always called me someth’n’ new every week until I- I didn’t r’lly know who I was an’more, b-but I never forgot my name. Not entirely.”

“That’s impressive. Stay still for me, yeah? Tryin’ to make this as painless as possible. Do you have any family or friends who could take you in if I took you back to the city?”

“I had my mom,” he managed to respond. Even Cohen could tell the fresh wave of tears that welled in his eyes were for her. “But she died a few months before I was taken. I ha-ave no one else.”

Shit. “Okay.” The man let out a tense sigh, attempting to create a picture in his head of the new living arrangements if he decided to take him home with him. It was beginning to seem like the most likely option. “Lemme think on it for a moment.”

“Ca-an you just kill me?” Elias begged as soon as the opportunity arose. “You- you can do that, right? I have no money to pay you with b-but- but… oh, I’m so tired of living. I just want it to be over. Please?”

Admittedly, Cohen considered the possibility. This was a young man who had no doubt been through and witnessed horrors that even he couldn’t comprehend, begging him to take his life. He understood, and in most cases, probably would have just done it.

But…

“I’ll tell you what,” he started, only pausing to set the first set of wire aside before beginning on the next one. “Let me take you home with me. I’ll make you a nice home-cooked meal, get you some clothes and tend to these wounds. You could even have a bath or a shower and wash the last of this place off you. Give it a go for, let’s say, two months. If we reach that day and you still find yourself wanting this, then I’ll do it. Promise.”

To say Elias looked devastated would have been a complete understatement. Whatever hope he had drained from his expression and he continued to cry, even louder than before.

“Ho-ow can I trust you’ll keep your promise?” he asked in between sobs. “Why can’t you just do it? I’m begging you, please! It’ll only take a minute or two!”

“I know. I know it’s selfish of me and I know there’s nothing I can do right now to make you feel better about the situation but I want you to at least have a go.”

Finally, the second piece of wire was off. This meant that Elias was able to move a little more with what little strength he had. Unsurprisingly, he used the opportunity to reach for the knife in Cohen’s back pocket, a frustrated scream emitting from the back of his throat when the man easily grabbed him by the wrist.

“What on earth was your plan there?” he shook his head, only releasing the boy’s wrist again to move himself down to his ankles. One more wire to go and he was free to move around as he pleased. “Look, I get it. I’m chronically suicidal, too, and you know what? It fucking sucks.”

“Please don’t follow that up by telling me there’s people out there who love me ‘n’ all that bullshit,” Elias mumbled as he wiped furiously at his eyes. “I’ve heard it all before ‘n’ I don’t believe it.”

Cohen snorted. “I don’t believe it, either.”

That got his attention. He slowly uncovered his eyes bit by bit, stifling another sob as he stared up at him from where he lay on the floor. “Why are you still alive, then?” he whispered hoarsely, the edge in his voice slowly replacing itself with genuine curiosity. “What is so good about this world that you decided to stay?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell you.” Cohen gave him a pursed-lipped smile and shrugged. “I don’t find joy in many things anymore - or, I guess I never really have. The only thing that’s ever made me feel like it might be worth living is making life for other people a little less sucky, hence my line of work. May not be the most morally sound way of doing things but it gets the job done.”

Elias’ eyes widened, not to Cohen’s surprise. “So- so, you kill people for a living?” he asked in disbelief. For a moment it looked as if he was going to blow up at him, but eventually the boy’s face broke out into an awe-filled grin. “That’s so fucking cool.”

A little while later, the last bit of wire finally came off. It’d taken fucking ages to get through but the look of unbridled relief on Elias’ face as he examined the open wounds that wrapped around his body was worth it, Cohen thought. He doubted he could even comprehend the amount of pain he’d been in, and would continue to be in for the next week or two at least.

“So,” he began as he stood up off the floor. Elias immediately looked up at him, his face still covered in silent tears as he expectantly waited for more words. “Do we have a deal, Elias?”

The sound of his own name caused the boy to tear up all over again, and despite his previous objections to the idea, he gave him a small nod. “Yes,” he whispered, obediently lifting his arms as soon as Cohen bent down to pick him up off the ground. “Only two months… I can do it.”

“That’s the spirit, and hey; my name is Cohen.”

“Cohen…” He let the word quietly roll off his tongue, resting his head on the man’s shoulder as the two finally left the bedroom. “I’ve been stuck in that room for weeks… ‘n’ it almost feels a little surreal that I get to finally leave. Is that-” Cohen felt him stiffen and glance over his shoulder at the dead body of his captor. “Holy shit. He’s really gone. You- you killed him.”

Cohen hummed. “Told you. Need anything before we go?”

“No.” Elias was quick to shake his head before letting it come to rest on him once more, clearly exhausted from the mere effort it took to hold his head up at all. “J’st wanna get outta here.”

Cohen’s car was hidden a little ways into the bush. The entire way, Elias clung to him like some sort of koala or sloth, desperate for any kind of contact. Although he didn’t dare say it out loud, the man was not afraid to acknowledge that the guy was absolutely covered in filth. It took a lot out of him to ignore how dirty he was becoming the longer he held onto him, and he made sure to put a towel down on the passenger’s seat of the car before setting him down, too.

“‘m sorry,” Elias whispered in reference to the fabric beneath him as soon as Cohen got into the driver’s side. “It’s been months since I last got to wash myself.”

“I can tell.” The man was quick to tilt his head and offer a crooked smile. “You don’t have to be sorry. Sometimes I’ll go several weeks without showering and I’ve got one available to me, so no need to be ashamed.”

The boy let his head come to rest against the window, his gaze still on Cohen as he weaved his way through the trees until the tires finally hit dirt. It made him feel a little uncomfortable, being watched so intently, and he made a conscious effort to focus solely on the road ahead of him rather than what was going on in the passenger’s seat.

It wasn’t until they were back on the main road less than five minutes later that Cohen allowed himself to relax completely. He took the opportunity to glance to his right, only to find Elias staring intently out the window. Thanks to his own reflection, it wasn’t hard to see the tears glistening in his eyes.

“You okay there?”

The boy sniffled. “You don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve seen the sky or- or the trees or anything even remotely resembling nature. I always took it for granted before everything that happened, but now I feel like I’ll ever get enough of it.”

Cohen couldn’t help but ask. “How long were you there for?”

“Nearly a year, I think. I- I was taken out of the house on occasions, but I always had to wear a blindfold or a bag over my head until we were at his client’s house. I assume it was so I never knew exactly where I was.”

“Forgive me for prying, but client? What did he do that warranted clients?”

The boy spoke through clenched teeth, clearly struggling to keep himself from breaking down all together again. “Clients were what he called the people who paid to have me for a certain period of time. Anywhere from fifteen minutes to several days - if they had enough money, I was theirs to abuse. The only rule was that they couldn’t kill me, and if I asked them to then they were within their right to punish me as they saw fit.”

Unable to find the right words, Cohen simply shook his head, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as the image involuntarily popped into his mind’s eye. A part of him wondered if he was doing the right thing in refusing his request to kill him then and there. He’d always been a firm believer that if someone wanted to die, it was only right that they got to make that choice, and yet the thought of giving in to Elias’ request before the guy got to experience life outside of captivity again just didn’t seem right.

Cohen had always been grateful to be living on the outskirts of the city. There were never hundreds of cars on the roads and the scenery was far better than any city had to offer. Not to mention the animals that came to visit each morning. If he woke up early enough, he could watch the sun rise and the deer grazing by the treeline opposite his house. Not a day passed by where he wasn’t happy with his current living circumstances, and he was admittedly rather excited to be showing it to someone he knew would appreciate it just as much as he did.

“I think you’ll enjoy it here,” he told him as he opened the passenger side door. Elias gave nothing but a small, tight smile, still clearly a little irritated by the fact that he was still here despite his earlier statements. Cohen was quick to scoop him up out of the car, one arm supporting his behind while the other hugged his shoulders to keep him close.

He was not surprised to feel the boy’s head come to rest on his chest almost immediately, followed by a low-sounding whine. “You must be exhausted,” he murmured in an attempt to empathise with him. “Why don’t I run you a warm bath and you can spend some time cleaning yourself while I make some food? Do you have a favourite meal?”

“...I always liked pasta, before?” Elias whispered, subconsciously fisting Cohen’s hoodie in his hands as the man struggled to unlock his front door. “If I could have anything I wanted in the world, it would be that.”

He almost looked relieved when Cohen smiled encouragingly down at him. Instead of putting him down on the couch, he made his way to the bedroom first and carefully set him down on the side closest to the door.

“I think I have some angel hair pasta that I can cook, for sure. That’s a great choice,” he praised. “What about clothing? Do you have any preferences there? I have a little bit of everything, so feel free to browse what’s available in the wardrobe while I get the water running.”

Elias nodded, though made no conscious effort to move. Instead, when Cohen came back from the bathroom a few minutes later he found that the guy had fallen asleep hugging a pillow to his chest, and a deep sigh escaped his lips as he wandered over to his wardrobe and picked out some clothes himself. He supposed Elias would be doing quite a bit of sleeping over the next few days. It was concerning to think about the last time he must have had a proper sleep without all the constant pain.

So, he waited until he had an outfit set up by the bathroom basin and a towel hung on a hook before waking the boy up again with a gentle nudge to his shoulder. It took a few tries but eventually his eyes started to flicker open, followed by a single terrified shriek that soon morphed into a sob when the man grabbed hold of his wrist to stop him from hitting anything.

“You’re okay. It’s just me,” he soothed, gently resting the guy’s hand back down on his stomach as soon as he knew it was over. “You fell asleep a few minutes ago, remember?”

Elias sniffled. “I- I guess so? You didn’t- I- I thought you were gonna… gonna hurt me. Di’nt mean t’ throw my fist at you.”

Really, it wasn’t as if he could have done much harm in the state he was in, though Cohen didn’t say that out loud. Instead, he lightly ruffled Elias’ hair a little before beginning to help him onto his feet, curious as to how he’d fare on his own. Surprisingly, between the two of them they were able to make it to the bathroom in less than a minute, and Elias gave a triumphant smile as soon as he was leaning against the sink.

“I- I’m not sure I can get in,” he admitted quietly after some time spent examining the tub. “‘n’ is the water gonna hurt?”

Much to Elias’ clear dismay, Cohen nodded. “Unfortunately, but I promise it’ll get better eventually. Your wounds - particularly the ones left from the wire - are already infected. Whether you get into the bath or not, they’ve still gotta be washed before I bandage them.”

Truthfully, Cohen had been expecting more of a fight. However, it wasn’t long before the boy warily nodded, reaching out a hand for some support.

“I know it sucks having to rely on someone so much,” Cohen said as he helped him strip out of the last piece of clothing - his underwear. They were damp and torn in multiple places, leaving them to be of little use to him now. It was not hard to see the look of embarrassment on Elias’ face as they were tossed aside to be thrown out later on, but Cohen hardly left him any time to dwell on that as he lifted him off his feet and carefully lowered him into the tub. “Give it enough time and you’ll be independent enough to do what you like.”

“I know,” he whispered defeatedly, his entire face suddenly twisting up in pain as the water began to make contact with his injuries. Cohen felt his fingers dig into his arm, sharp, uncut nails threatening to draw blood each time he held on just that bit tighter. “Hurts!”

Cohen forced himself to smile. “Yes, you’ve made that very clear. It’ll ease up soon but you gotta try and relax until then, okay?”

Although it seemed to take a while, Elias’ expressions eventually started to soften, as did the grip on Cohen’s arm. He was quick to pull his other sleeve over his hand to dab away the spots of blood that appeared when it was let go completely.

“Would you like me to give you some privacy?” he asked, his voice quieting to match the change in atmosphere in the room. “If you’re happy enough alone, I might go make a start on that meal I promised. You can call me when you’re done and I’ll be back to help you get dressed. Otherwise, I’m also happy to sit here and keep you company.”

There was a moment of hesitation before he mustered his response. “Uhm… is- is it weird that I want you to stay?”

“Not at all,” Cohen shook his head, and with a small grunt he lowered himself down onto the cool tiles beneath him before resting both his wrists on the side of the tub. As soon as they were within arm's reach of him, the boy took hold of them and started to examine each faded cut, bruise and scar he’d acquired over the years, occasionally trailing a finger along one of them to see where it ended. They were parts of Cohen that he’d always been embarrassed by, but it seemed to be nothing short of intriguing to him.

“I have hundreds of scars on my body,” he eventually whispered. “It’s kinda cool to meet someone who has them, too.”

While he had tried his best not to focus on them too much, Cohen was not oblivious to the scars that were present on Elias’ body, most of them being at least a little infected while the others had healed over a long time ago. It couldn’t have been the first time someone had used barbed wire as a way of restraining him either - there were multiple faded outlines of the same marks that were now fresh on his skin, though some of them still looked more recent than he would have liked.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t help but smile, allowing his fingers to curl around Elias’ when he gently sat his hand upon them. “I try to keep ‘em hidden most of the time. Not many people wanna look at something so conventionally ugly, and it also isn’t really good for business.”

Elias looked as though he couldn’t disagree more with his statement. It was almost amusing watching his expression morph into one of obvious disapproval, and he began to trail his fingertip along another one.

“Well, I think you’re wrong,” he absentmindedly shrugged. “Scars are only as ugly as we make them out to be. I like that they hold stories we might not even know we had with them.”

Huh. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”

After he reached the end, the boy looked back up at him and smiled something sad. “I don’t always like mine either. Sometimes I wish I could make them go away, but if I can’t help the fact that they’re there, then I figure it’s far more beneficial to find reasons to like them instead of finding reasons to hate them. Does that make sense? I feel like I might be rambling… just a little. Today has been so long and stressful.”

Cohen felt himself sigh. “I could not agree more.”

Within a few hours, the two of them had a steaming bowl of pasta each and had sat down together on the couch in Cohen’s living room. The place itself didn’t really have much to offer, but Elias seemed content enough leaning against the arm of the couch, a blanket draped over his shoulders and his entire body hunched over to try and savor as much warmth radiating from the bowl as he could.

Meanwhile, Cohen had several search bars open on his laptop, all of them with articles relating to whom he assumed was Elias’ mother. They shared the same last name - he’d been smart enough to ask him about that as he cooked dinner, and it appeared that she died a few months before he said he was kidnapped. Not to mention her nineteen year old child that all three articles said went missing not long afterwards.

But the paragraph that confused him most was the one that mentioned her murderer, who they said had supposedly gone into hiding afterwards.

“Lucas killed your mom?” he blurted before he could stop the words from spilling out. Almost immediately Elias’ entire body stiffened, fingers tightening around his half-empty bowl despite the heat still going strong. Even for him, it wasn’t hard to see that he’d hit a sore spot, and in an extremely foolish way, too.

The boy tilted his head a little in an attempt to see what was going on on the screen, his face falling even more when Cohen shut his laptop screen before he could get a proper look. “How’d you know about that?”

“I wanted to learn more about what happened.”

“...and you wanted to do that through the media rather than me?” There it was. That same look Cohen had already seen so many times just in that cabin alone. Something that resembled a mixture of anger and hurt. Except, before, he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. He wasn’t sure he could say that now. “It’s ironic, really. Nobody ever wanted to hear my side of what happened back then, either.”

Despite his inner voice telling him to just apologise, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. They were such simple words, and yet neither would come to him when he tried.

So, instead of spending several minutes trying to speak what words wouldn’t come, he slowly sat up and set his laptop down on the coffee table in an attempt to show that his attention was now all on him. “Upsetting you was not my intention, Elias,” he quietly assured him, and the sound of his own name once again had him looking up through teary brown eyes. “I didn’t realise it was so important to you.”

“Wouldn’t it be to anyone?” he asked irritably. “It was fucking horrible. All of it. I bet you missed all those articles speculating that I was the one who killed her, too.”

Cohen frowned. “People really thought that?”

“Of course they fucking did, and you wanna know why he had me in his filthy little hands soon after he killed her? I wanted to clear my name. I wanted it all to stop. I wanted to be able to step outside just once without being shunned for the things I didn’t even do.”

“So…” Cohen’s eyes squeezed shut as the realisation finally dawned on him. It made him felt sick. “You went to find him.”

“Yeah, I did.”

When his eyes finally opened again, he realised that all the anger was gone. He was no longer the picture of fury, struggling to have his own voice be heard over everyone else’s theories and speculations. Instead, he now looked absolutely heartbroken, as if any grief he should have felt at the time was finally beginning to make its way to the surface.

“Nobody gave me a chance to stand up for myself,” he whispered bitterly after a quiet minute or two. “Nobody asked how I was or- or if I was handling the death of my own fucking mother okay. Nobody fucking cared that the answer was no. I could not have been more alone, and- and eventually I decided that if I died trying to prove I was innocent, then it was probably for the best anyway.”

“...’n’ I guess I was too upset to consider all the other possible scenarios.”

Cohen forced himself to nod. A weak attempt at showing that he was still listening, even if he wasn’t responding to what was being said. Truthfully, he had no idea what to say. Everything he thought of was either only going to make it worse or a completely pointless addition to the conversation.

“I believe you” was the phrase he finally settled on. Not long afterwards Elias appeared directly beside him, his bottom lip trembling as he suspiciously examined his facial expression for any underlying lies or hints of sarcasm.

Eventually, his shoulders began to slump a little as he relaxed. “You do?” he whispered.

“Yeah.” He gave a firm nod. “Got no reason not to. Besides, I’m not really in the right position to be judging people on that sort of thing even if you had, now am I?”

Much to his relief, Elias’ face shifted into one of slight amusement. “At least the people you kill are guilty of something,” he mumbled as he tiredly pressed his forehead into Cohen’s arm. “My mother was a good person. Did nothin’ to deserve the fate she got. I miss her more and more every goddamn day.”

Albeit awkwardly, Cohen forced his arm around the boy’s shoulders and pulled him a little closer, allowing him to fully collapse against his side as he started to quietly weep all over again. “She never would’a let me do something so fucking stupid.”

All he could do was give a sad smile, gentle fingers rubbing soothing circles into his back as the tears continued to fall down Elias’ grief stricken face.

“I… I got you,” he spoke slowly. Truth be told, he was possibly going to end up simply quoting all the most common phrases of comfort from his favourite books until he calmed down if this continued. He knew nothing about looking after another person, apart from the physical aspect of it.

He wondered how the hell he was supposed to make it through two months of this without constantly messing up.

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st-kitten · 1 year ago

Text

“cinnamon girl"

MIGUEL O'HARA x READER warnings: none that disastrous, mention of piercings, biting and blood (harmless, but hot) words: 2,598

Miguel is busy working, trying to focus on tasks at hand when you walk in the office space and suddenly, all he can think about is why you smell so good. He can’t get your fragrance out of his mind, which drives him to give in to his infatuation…

As Miguel sat diligently at his desk in the bustling headquarters of the Spider Society, he immersed himself in his work. Surrounded by the hum of activity and the glow of computer screens, he focused intently on the tasks at hand. With his attention fixed on the reports and footage in front of him, Miguel was determined to meet his self-imposed deadlines and excel in stabilising the multiverse.

Behind him, Jess and Gwen discussed their latest mission. As radiant as ever, Jess flaunted her expertise on Gwen, who absorbed every last detail with admiring eyes gawking at her. Somewhere in the corner, Pavitr and Hobie lurked in the shadows, contemplating yet another political firecracker Hobie had ignited between the two. Peter sat on one of the couches, exhausted from having to run after Mayday, who had been confined to her seat surrounded by a labyrinth of webs. The hubbub was lively, and somewhat productive.

Miguel hoped for a break in the stagnancy. He reminded Lyla to send alerts to everyone, instructing them to work, but to no avail. It seemed that everyone had taken one long break. Well, everyone except Miguel, who had not rested for two whole nights, his eyes half-lidded and brow tensed.

But amidst the controlled chaos of the office, something unexpected disrupted his concentration. A delicate fragrance, sweet and intoxicating, began to waft through the air, catching the attention of his spidey senses like a gentle whisper. The scent was so enchanting, so captivating, that it transported his thoughts to a place far removed from the monotony of his workplace. The aroma of cinnamon, coconut, and vanilla trickled through his nose and smudged his mind into a fog of nothing.

Intrigued by the allure of the aroma, Miguel glanced around, trying to discern its origin. He followed the scent with his senses, his focus shifting away from the computer screen and onto the ethereal fragrance. It seemed to be emanating from the far end of the office, teasing him with its enigmatic presence.

You walked in, eyes fixed on your iPad, tapping away furiously, as if racing towards the finish line. You could barely see what or who was in front of you and bumped into Gwen, pushing her into Jess, which Gwen obviously didn't mind.

"Honey, watch where you're going, yeah? One of these days, you're going to leap of some edge..." Jess muttered affectionately.

Redirecting yourself, you began walking in the other direction, almost missing the corner of the coffee table, which Peter managed to cover and soften with a blob of web.

Miguel watched you from his vantage point, wading through the numerous obstacles, including Pavitr and Hobie who had managed to hold themselves in some unsolicitedly intricate Yoga pose. As if under a spell, his mind wandered, captivated by the intoxicating scent that seemed to possess a magnetic pull over him. His eyes glazed over you, no longer registering the rows of desks or the symphony of typing keyboards. Instead, his imagination conjured images. Images he never would've visualised were it not for the fact that after all these months of you working for him, he hadn't notice how beautiful you were. Was it your perfume? Or did it just take him this long to fully notice you.

Miguel had spent countless hours working side by side with you. You shared the same office space, exchanged occasional pleasantries, and collaborated on projects. You'd helped him analyse data and organise it. He had never seen you. He simply took you for another helper. You, a human, hired for your impeccable work ethic and skills, were simply a resource to him. But all that changed when he saw you in your element. Did you always smell this great?

It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a captivating sight he had somehow overlooked. Your silky, flowing hair cascaded gracefully through a ponytail, framing a face that radiated warmth and intelligence. Your eyes, deep and expressive, looked so sensual whenever they focused on something. The way you would bite your lip when you came across information you didn't understand, the way you'd tuck strands of hair behind your face, but they'd never stay there, the was your neck arched to look up at the screens, revealing your collarbones and the pearls that rested on them, the way your loose buttoned up tops would slightly give away the view inside, the way your your trousers hugged your curves perfectly, the arch of your feet when you took off your shoes to sit comfortably on the couch now made Miguel mesmerised and entranced. He marvelled at how he had been blind to this captivating presence for so long, consumed by the mundane routines of their shared workspace.

As Miguel watched you interact with colleagues, he noticed the genuine kindness that infused your conversations. You effortlessly put others at ease with your compassionate words and infectious laughter. The more he observed, the deeper he fell under your spell, unable to tear his eyes away from your captivating aura.

Yet, even as his heart soared, doubt crept in. Miguel wondered if his sudden infatuation was a fleeting illusion, a trick played by his own desires. Maybe he was just exhausted and needed to sleep.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to look away from you and went back to work. Surely the multiverse was more important than his momentary crush on you.

As the day wore on, Miguel's infatuation with you continued to grow, his thoughts consumed by your presence. Feeling the need for a brief respite, he decided to take a quick water break, hoping to clear his mind and regain focus. He made his way to the lobby, where a small coffee cart stood, offering a momentary escape from the office routine.

As Miguel approached the cart, his attention was diverted by a figure standing nearby. It was you, engaged in a conversation with another colleague. Something about your demeanour caught his eye, a certain grace that commanded attention.

"Ay, dios mío, por favor..." he mumbled to himself, palming his creased forehead.

You looked back, glad to see Miguel out of his seat. You were hoping he would take breaks more often. The man worked for 24 hours. If a day was made up of 38, he would work for 38 hours.

"It's nice to see you out here... in the plebeian world..." you said jokingly, not meaning to practically throw it at his face.

Miguel didn't know whether to reply or to claw away at the walls and escape. Even your voice was a delight to hear. It was like you aroused all five of his senses. Slowly, he made his way to you, hoping to chug the whole water canister and not speak for God forbid what comes out of his mouth if he's left to his own devices.

The colleague who was with you took one look at a fatigued Miguel, said God's name, and chose to march in the opposite direction.

"What would you like? Coffee? Tea? Whatever that green thing is at the back?" you asked.

Your perfume. That's what I'd like, he thought to himself.

"Uh... Coffee."

"Milk and sugar?" you asked sweetly.

"Just throw it in," he said. He couldn't take it anymore. The alluring scent of your perfume, it enveloped Miguel's senses, and he couldn't help but inhale deeply, the fragrance permeating every fibre of his being. It was a fragrance so intoxicating, so enticing, that it seemed to possess a magical quality.

He gave in to that tiny part of him and stepped closer, standing behind you, watching you press the buttons on the coffeemaker. AS gently as he could, he lowered his head and breathed in. The combination of cinnamon, coconut, and vanilla in her perfume was an intoxicating symphony that danced around Miguel's senses, leaving him spellbound and yearning for more.

The warmth of cinnamon caressed his olfactory receptors, infusing him with a sense of comfort and familiarity. The spicy notes seemed to ignite a spark within him, igniting a fire of passion and igniting a newfound energy that fuelled his infatuation.

Coconut, with its tropical essence, added a touch of exoticism to the fragrance. As the scent mingled with the air, it invoked a sense of freedom, inviting him to embrace the spontaneity of life and the possibility of new beginnings.

And then there was vanilla, the sweetest and most alluring note of all. Its creamy and comforting aroma wrapped Miguel in a tender embrace, evoking a sense of intimacy and tenderness. It awakened his senses to the depth of his emotions, stirring a yearning for connection and a longing to explore the depths of his infatuation.

How could a stupid perfume make him act like that?

He regained composure and stepped back slightly. He watched you watch the machine pour coffee in a small cup. His eyes fell on your pierced ears. He got a feeling that you liked pain, in an adventurous way. Four piercings were after all a lot.

"Here," you said, handing him his cup. In his hands, the size of it shrunk dramatically.

Miguel took it, his fingers brushing past yours, which didn't help his plan of resistance at all. With each sip he took of that ridiculously sweet beverage, his need to consume you grew. He clutched the cup tightly, hoping his mind would find something else to focus on. He almost wished an anomaly would come and wreck the room. Lost in thoughts, he held the cup so tightly that it broke into pieces, splashing the coffee around and lo-and-behold, on your top.

"Fuck... I-" before he could apologise, you interjected and began dabbing tissues on your chest.

"That's okay. It happens. With you people. I guess. I think. I concur. I'll just... Go to the washroom," you said.

"Yes. This way," Miguel replied, leading you to the nearest washroom. He had no idea why he was going with her. She knew where it was. Why was he with her?

She opened the door to the washroom, walking over to the basin, leaning over it, and splashed some water on her top.

Unbeknownst to him, Miguel had followed her in and now stood behind her, trying his hardest to pull his gaze away from her chest, which was glistening with water droplets.

"You good?" you asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

He couldn't resist the temptation any longer. He reached out and took your wrist in his hand, holding it gently but firmly. He lifted it to his nose and took a deep breath, savouring the scent of her perfume. It was intoxicating, and he felt himself getting lost in it.

"What is this?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your perfume. It's fucking ridiculous. Why does it smell so good?"

You let out a soft chuckle. "It's just a body splash... Why-" you couldn't finish your sentence because of what Miguel started to do.

As he held your wrist, he realised how smooth your skin felt against his fingers. He couldn't resist the urge to touch her more. Slowly, he let go of your wrist and placed his hand on her neck, feeling the softness of your skin. He leaned in, inhaling her scent, and felt a rush of desire wash over him. He was going insane over how good you smelled, how smooth your skin felt against his. Feeling your skin rise with goosebumps satisfied the animal in him. Like a bloodhound, he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling as much as he could, his hand still tenderly caressing your arm, running his fingertips up and down.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't help himself. She was like a drug to him, and he was addicted. He felt his self-control slipping away, and he knew that he was in danger of losing everything he had worked so hard to achieve. He tried to pull away, to regain his focus, but it was too late. He had already crossed a line, and he couldn't go back.

"Dios mío, hueles tan bien..." he whispered in your ear, feeling you shudder.

He smiled, and continued whispering sweet nothings in your ear. "Eres tan hermosa. No sabes lo que me estás haciendo, verdad?" He closed his eyes and let his body react to you. He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer and trapping you between the basin and his body.

"I have no idea what you're saying but..." you paused to take a deep breath.

"Mmm? Qué pasó, mi chica canela?" his voice reverberated in your ear like a rattling bass and that silenced you from thinking.

You shook your head, and mumbled, "Nothing... don't stop."

"I don't plan to." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. You, completely drunk on how Miguel made you feel, responded eagerly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he held you closer.

He couldn't get enough of you, the taste of your lips, the feel of your body against his. As your lips met, a rush of electricity shot through his body. He pulled you closer, leaving next to no space between you, his hands sliding down your back as he deepened the kiss. He untucked your top from your trousers and slowly unbuttoned your shirt.

"Don't throw it on the floor... It's expensive," you muttered in between kisses.

"I'll buy you ten more."

Feeling you smile into the kiss, Miguel growled, his grip on your waist tightening. He was indebted to that coffee stain for he would never have been in this situation were it not for that. As you pulled away for a bare moment, Miguel stared into your eyes, his heart racing. He knew that he was in too deep, that he had gone too far. But he couldn't bring himself to care. All that mattered was you, your scent, your touch, your kiss. He knew that he was putting everything he had worked for at risk, but he couldn't help himself.

"Mierda, quiero morderte, nena..."

"Hmm?" you asked, tilting your head oh so conveniently.

Miguel inhaled sharply and looked up at the ceiling. Did you really just do that? he thought.

He cocked his head and looked down at your innocent face. He wasn't a person who'd ever ask for anyone's permission, but seeing you be so vulnerably beautiful made him do it anyway...

"Can I bite you?"

He half expected you to run away. So, when your eyes glinted with and approving excitement, he was surprised, to say the least. He wasted no time holding your face in his palm and tilting your head, exposing your neck already pampered with his kisses. His dug his fangs into the soft flesh, feeling ecstatic, as if he was transported to another dimension.

All of his senses were heightened. Your perfume, the feel of your skin, you soft gasps, the taste of your blood, and the sight of your figure reacting to him in the mirror, sent Miguel to heaven. You were simply divine.

Miguel O'Hara had never wished for a more opportune break from his work and he was sure to take some more henceforth.

#miguel o’hara #Miguel x reader #atsv miguel #spiderverse #fluff #perfume #pavitr prabhakar #hobie spiderverse #Jess #Gwen #Peter and Mayday

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