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its3nvy · 5 months

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Hello I was wondering if you could do a Billy the kid imagine where he gets really jealous of the reader and another guy and like drags her away or something. The rest is up to you

Possessive Billy the Kid

Summary: In order to get Billy to admit his feelings for you, you attempt to make it jealous.

Tags/warnings: mdni (18+), possessive!Billy, porn with no plot, angst, size kink, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink

Note : Gotta be honest not my favorite work of mine, but I hope you guys enjoy!! (Also, don't forget to like, comment & reblog) :D

tags: f!reader, smut

word count: 2.5k

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You were aware of Billy's infatuation with you. You weren’t blind to his gaze; you weren’t deaf to his words. It's undeniable that Billy was deeply in love with you, though he stubbornly denied it.

Billy's hesitancy to act on his emotions was largely fueled by the wounds of past relationships. He'd been hurt before, and those scars had left him cautious and wary of opening up again.

You've caught on to this, and it's what led you to your current predicament—flirting shamelessly with Luke. The idea was simple: You make him jealous to the point where you'll provoke a reaction, prompting him to confront the feelings he's been holding back.

You glance across the room at Billy, displeased with the unfolding scene between you and Luke. The room is dimly lit, adorned with rustic wooden furniture and low-hanging lanterns that cast a warm, intimate glow.

Ever since Luke entered the picture, his overconfident demeanor has irked everyone. Flirting with Luke was a sure way to get under Billy's skin.

“So, what do you say, hon’? Want to continue this conversation in my bedroom?” Luke flashes you what he clearly thinks is a charming smile.

Billy locks eyes with you, a silent exchange of challenges unfolding. Your eyebrow raises in defiance, met with Billy's stoic expression. A smirk plays on your lips, inviting the storm that brews in Billy's furrowed brows. Heightening the tension, you stand on your tiptoes and lean over the bar, your hand finding its place on Luke's bicep. You whisper something unintelligible into his ear, a secret shared in the midst of the growing chaos.

Luke's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and as he turns to look at you, a mix of shock and excitement gleams in his eyes. The room crackles with unspoken emotions as the atmosphere thickens with anticipation.

Billy's neck turns crimson as anger courses through his veins, catching the subtle shift in Luke's expression. It's the final straw, the breaking point that fractures whatever fragile equilibrium remained between Billy and you. A strange blend of dread and anticipation stirs within you as you watch Billy move decisively toward you, his face contorted with fury.

Sensing the impending confrontation, you back away from Luke, pretending to mull over his proposition. As Billy approaches, you let the tension build.

In a whirlwind of emotion, Billy shoves Luke forcefully against the bar, causing glasses to crash to the floor in a symphony of shattered fragments. He keeps him there by seizing him by the collar with a violent urgency, trapping him amidst the debris of the broken glasses.

A cold steel barrel emerges from Billy's hand, pressing menacingly under Luke's chin the ominous click of him charging it resonating in the tense atmosphere.

"You don’t fucking look at her again," Billy's voice is a low growl, each word heavy with an undercurrent of unspoken turmoil. His intense glare pierces through Luke, a fiery testament to the tumultuous emotions churning within him.

In the charged pause that follows, you find your voice, your words cutting through the tense air. "Billy, enough," you plead, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. "Let him go."

For a moment, Billy's grip on Luke tightens, his eyes locking onto yours with a stubborn resolve. Then, with a reluctant exhale, he releases Luke, who stumbles back, visibly shaken.

As he turned your way, you gripped the edge of the bar nervously. He stalked towards you until he stood right in front of you, the sheer size difference making you look up to meet his eyes. The storm in his gaze was evident, and you couldn't help but steal a glance at his lips.

The hand that moments ago wielded a weapon now reaches for your face, holding it with a surprising gentleness—a stark contrast to the aggression in his eyes. He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that carries the weight of unresolved emotions and the turmoil that has been building between you.

Billy’s lips on yours is everything you hoped it would be: euphoric. His lips feel pillowy against yours, albeit slightly chapped. The force of his lips connecting with yours is gentle enough not to hurt you but aggressive enough to tell you he wants you. His teeth gently pulling your bottom lip between his makes you weak in the knees, and you can’t help but gasp.

Your arms quickly snake around his neck, eyes fluttering shut. You let him keep control of the kiss—you’d tortured him enough—and only pull away when you desperately need to breathe.

As your lips disconnect, he rests his forehead against your own.

"I've fucking had it," he said, his tone carrying an undercurrent of frustration. The weight of his words hangs in the air, and you find yourself locked in a silent exchange, a plea for an explanation lingering on your lips.

Billy, fueled by an intensity you hadn't seen before, grasped your arm, his grip forceful and unyielding. You stumbled along in protest, a mix of surprise and curiosity painting your face.

He doesn't speak, but his eyes tell a story of pent-up emotions, of things unsaid and feelings unexplored. The atmosphere is heavy with the weight of unspoken words as he leads you down the corridor, away from the prying eyes of the gathering crowd.

"Where are we going, Billy?" you finally manage to ask, your voice echoing through the quiet hallway.

He doesn't respond, his jaw clenched, and his gaze fixed ahead. The tension between you is palpable, the air thick with anticipation.

As you reach his room, he pushes the door open, revealing a space that feels both intimate and charged. The room is dimly lit, casting long shadows on the walls, and the air is heavy with the scent of anticipation.

"Billy, what are-", His lips crashed to yours, hungry and hot and demanding, stealing your breath in a heated rush. He lifted his hand, gently cradling your jaw as he kissed you. With a subtle tilt of your head, the kiss deepened, his tongue sliding into your mouth. A low groan rumbled in his chest as you melted in his arms, giving into him with a moan of pure want.

He pressed his body to yours, caging you in his arms and trapping you between him and the wall. In response, you surged forward, reaching up and clasping his face in your hands. Your fingers rasped against his stubble, digging into his skin. A low growl escaped him, intensifying the heat in your belly. He pressed harder into you, his cock forming a firm ridge against your thigh.

He broke the kiss, panting harshly, tipping you head back so he could look deep into her eyes.

You were barely able to form the words, desire swimming so thickly in your veins you could feel nothing else. “Billy, Please-.”

He groaned, a deep and visceral sound of relief and release. His thumb traced a gentle circle on her cheek in a brief moment of tenderness, but his desire for you was too strong to be placid and mellow right now.

“Turn around,” was all that left his lips.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised by his sudden statement.

“You listening to me, doll?” There was that damned smirk again. “I need you to turn around for me.”

“Why is that?” God, you loved messing with him.

In a swift motion, he spun you around, your chest colliding with the wall, pinned against it. His grip on your hips tightened, a silent proclamation of his control as the atmosphere crackled with the intensity of unspoken words.

“Enough playing, doll,” he spoke against your ear. “You want me to make you mine?”

His fingers delicately traced along the fabric of your bodice, gently pulling it down to reveal your breasts. A soft exclamation escaped him as he pressed sweet kisses to the nape of your neck, his hands tenderly caressing and exploring the newfound intimacy between you.

“I’m gonna show you how no one else can satisfy you.”

Your head was whirling. Your eyes closed at his words, drinking them in like a shot of expensive liquor. “All you’ll be able to think about is me. You want that?”, he whispered against your ear as his free hand hiked your skirts up, and traveled upwards. You gasp when you feel his cool fingers press up against your clit, then travel slightly downwards where your wetness was beginning to leak from.

“Gotta talk to me, doll,” he cooed as a finger danced along your clothed slit, soaking in just how wet you were. “Need to hear how good you feel.”

He watched the way your lips fell open in the sweetest O shape at him pushing your panties to the side and sliding his calloused finger across your clit. You sighed at the break from pleasure as his fingers left your clit. You were breathing heavy, head spinning as he slid his index finger inside of you.

“Billy,” you whined, hand wrapping around his wrist as he pumped his finger agonizingly slowly.

“Hmm?”, he hummed. “Want another? I bet you can take it.” Your chest was rising and falling faster than before as you dug your nails into the skin of his forearm when he slid his finger out and added another.

“That’s it,” he pushed them into you with a delicious curl. “That’s a good girl.”

“Shit,” you hissed as he pumped harder, making sure his palm bumped against your puffy clit. “Fuck, Billy.”

“You’re close already?”, his words filled your thoughts. You nodded dumbly, mouth open and panting. Heat washed over you, pushing you closer to the edge of coming undone for him. Honestly it felt embarrassing how fast he had you melting his just his hands. You were shameless though. Throwing away any dignity just to chase the high he was about to give you. Just as the cord tightened and your body tensed, he withdrew his hand with an adoring smile hidden under his mask.

“Oh you’re so-,“ you struggled to get out. “So fucking cruel.”

The look you gave him over your shoulder was deadly. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked teasing,” he smirked and you knew it from the way his eyes stared down at you.

‘C’mere, doll,’ he tore the buttons from your skirt, freeing you from any garment you wore that went with them.

“I’m gonna need you to bend over for me, baby,” he voiced as he began undoing his own pants. You groaned, shuffling your feet backwards and keeping your chest to the wall.

“That’s it,” he kissed you along your jaw and hissed as he began to pump himself slowly. “Good girl.”

You bit at your lip, holding in the moan when he placed the tip of his heavy cock against your slit and began rubbing up and down as he slowly started to press inside of you. Your squirm, his other hand coming to your hip to keep you still. Slowly, he pushes inside.

“Fuck doll, you’re taking me so well,” he hissed, gripping your ass to spread you open even more.

“Billy,” you whined, “too much.”

“You can do it,” he pushed further, splitting you open with a delicious ache. “Relax for me.”

“That’s it,” he groaned, moving his hips slowly. “So proud of you,” his praise made your cheeks burn. You both pant as he starts to bottom out, feeling him deep, pressed tightly against your cervix. Pausing for a moment, he gently kissed you, giving you the sweetest reassurance as you adjusted. His actions were tender, creating a gentle moment amid the heated passion.

Billy drew his hips back, brushing against that delicious spot on the way before almost pulling completely out and slamming hard back into you. His grip was sure to leave bruises on your hips, but he found that he had little concern about it as he watched your eyes roll back. With how he was handling you, he'd wondered if you'd mark him up the same if he asked you - it would only be fair, and he would be more than happy to wear any branding that you'd put on him. But for now, he'd put his on you.

“Good,” he growled. “So fucking good.”

His thrusts were relentless. Ensuring you felt every inch of his thick cock when he fucked you. You yelped as the tip brushed against your cervix, earning a hiss from him when you tightened around him. Wet slaps filled the air as he pounded you faster, determined to fill every inch of you that he could.

He watched the way your mouth hung open but no noise could even leave this sweet lips of yours, not when he fucked you this good.

“You’re mine,” his other hand reached to the front of you, tugging on your puffy clit. You moaned in response but that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Go on,” he growled in your ear. “Go on. Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“Billy-“ You felt like you could cry. “Please-“ Every word was cut short by his thrusts deeper into you. You were so close your mind was racing.

“I’m - fuck - I’m yours,” you moaned. “Belong to you.”

He reached for your hands, pulling them behind your back and pinning them against you to use to fuck you harder. He yanked you back on his cock at the same time he thrusted forward too many times to count before the inside of your thighs ran slick. Your vision grew into a blur with each thrust as your brain became fuzzy, your stomach tightened as you grew closer to your climax.

It only took a second for your wails to turn into sharp gasps, your trembling body going taut as all the tension he'd built inside you snapped. It felt like bliss, it felt like a high from a drug you’d just taken for the first time. You came with a scream as he continued to fuck you. In and out, in and out, it was about all your mind could process as your body zipped and sparked like it had been hit by a thunderstorm.

"Fuck, I love the sounds you make when you come undone, doll." he mumbled. "So beautiful..." A few more dizzying pumps and you felt him pull out of you with a moan.

“Fuck.” He mumbled to himself, slipping his free arm around your waist to keep you from falling.

“You did so good for me, baby.” He praised between pants against your shoulder. “Don’t think I’m ever gonna let you go now.” You smiled, as he peppered you with kisses.

"I'd be surprised if the entire fucking town didn't hear us", you managed to breathe out. Billy simply grinned. "Good. Maybe now everyone will know to keep their fucking hands off."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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requests: open!

#billy the kid #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader #coriolanus snow #tom blyth #william bonney #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #not my gif

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candy69gurl · 29 days

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I love your Noncon stories so much... like DAMNNNN..... CAN you please do a teacher gojo (Gojo sensei) x student female reader noncon???? Where she trusts Gojo so much but at the end of the day she ends up being raped by Gojo..... pleaseeeeeeeeeee 💗💗💗💗

Are you.. not weak?

Teacher Gojo x student f!reader

Warnings- 18+, dark, non/con, mentions of violence blood (fight with curse), age gap (both are adults), public sex, misuse of trust, loss of virginity, nipple play, fingering, blow job, sex against wall, use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart), mutliple orgasm, raw sex (cumming inside), clit slapping, breeding kink

wc - 4.5k

ART NOT MINE !

The curse swirls and coils, spewing putrid venom at you. You dive out of the way, just evading the devastating strike. The curse screeches and lunges at you again, this time successfully scratching your arm with its sharp claws. You flinch as the venom sears like molten fire against your flesh. The curse charges at you again, its teeth and talons hungry for your flesh. You manage to dodge the assault at the last second, but your stamina is swiftly dwindling.

The curse's venom has burned and left your arm raw. The flesh around the cut is already growing septic, and the pain is excruciating.

The venom rushes through your veins like boiling liquid pain, impairing your judgement and equilibrium. You can hardly stand owing to the shock and anguish. You grab your arm, attempting to stop the flow of blood.

You see the curse about to harm you again.

A-am i going to die?

Gojo's eyes widen as he realises the curse is hitting you. He moves at incredible speeds, appearing beside you in an instant. He pulls you out of the path, accepting the curse himself. His six eyes sparkle brightly as he confronts the curse with strong focus and determination. The curse roars in rage, lashing out at Gojo with its claws and teeth. Gojo does not let the strike hit him due to his infinity blocking any attack attempt to hurt him.

Gojo got the news that you not in your dorm so, so he hurries out to find you, his six eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out where you could possibly be. His cursed energy rises as he explores his surroundings, looking for your scent or any indication of where you could be. He dashes from place to place, looking for any trace of you.

When he sensed you, he dashed to where you were, taking in the sight of you fighting a special grade curse.

He notices that you are damaged, with a burn mark on your arm and venom pouring through your veins. Without hesitation, he utilises his Purple Hollow to break the Special Grade curse. His cursed energy coalesces in his palm as he aims a massive blast at the curse. The Purple hollow hits its target with lethal precision, incinerating the curse instantly. The force of the blast sends the curse flying back and leaves a massive crater behind. Gojo lets out a heavy breath in relief as the curse is no more.

Gojo immediately rushes over to your side, his six eyes scanning you for any potential injuries. He sees that you are unconscious, your breaths slow and shallow. He can see that the venom is still coursing through your veins and the skin around the wound is beginning to scab over. He grimaces in concern as he sees the extent of your injuries.

He softly grabs your arms, lifts you, and carries you on his shoulder.

What was she even thinking.. he sighs, and in a second, Gojo transports you to Shoko using his teleportation power, your limp and unconscious body on his shoulders.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the scene around you became fuzzy and unclear as you tried to make sense of it all.

You're laying in bed with your arm bandaged and a dull aching from your wounds.

You sit up slowly, trying to recall what happened.

Your eyes survey the room, and then to Gojo sitting next to your bed.

"S-sensei?"

He gets up and moves closer to you.

"How do you feel?" he says quietly, his voice full of concerm.

"Mf'ne," you reply.

He gives you a slight smile, his eyes still full with anxiety

"The venom has been neutralised, so your condition is stable for now." He informs you. "You still need to rest. That was a high-level curse.I can't believe you were able to put them off that long."

"Why were you fighting a special grade curse alone.......Do you realise how dangerous that is?"

His tone implies dismay.

"I-", you try to make up something quickly.

He notices the guilt and embarrassment on your face. "You were trying to prove something, weren't you?"

He asks quietly.

You were up against Miwa, who was apparently a fan girl of Gojo. You failed miserably, failing to land a single hit on her throughout the entire match while she effortlessly evaded your attacks and countered you flawlessly. After the match, you overhear Gojo talking to Miwa.

Gojo: "You did well. Your technique is impressive, especially the way you used the environment to your advantage."

Miwa: "Thank you, sensei."

Gojo smiled at her.

Gojo: Keep this up and one day you will be able to the strongest sorcerer like me.

Miwa squealed and blushed, her face brightens.

You rolled your eyes and felt jealous and embarrassed. You felt determined to prove to GOJO that you're just as good, if not better than her so you decided to go and find a special grade curse to fight, alone.

You continue to roll your eyes as you recall what happened a few days earlier, still feeling envious and ashamed by your bad performance and how much Gojo complimented Miwa.

You snap back to reality and realise you're still in the infirmary bed. Your arm injuries continue to pain, and you feel fatigued and weak. Gojo is still sitting next to your bed, staring at you intently.

"I asked you something, Y/N," Gojo squints his eyes, and you can feel it through the blindfold.

"I-i, yes. I only wanted to prove myself that I am strong, and I failed."

Gojo sighs with disappointment.

"Trying to prove yourself by fighting a special grade curse alone.. that was reckless. It's just too dangerous." He looks at you with a mixture of concern and frustration in his eyes. "You're just lucky that I was able to find you in time before anything even worse happened."

"S-sorry.."

He shakes his head, still looking at you with concern.

"It's alright. Just... don't try to do something like this again, okay? If something happens to you, I can never forgive myself", his voice laced with a slight hint of amusement.

"h-huh?" He smiles slightly "I mean it. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if anything bad happened to you." He pauses, his voice softening "You're my... favorite student after all"

He notices the blush on your cheeks and his smile widens. "Don't go blushing on me now", he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

He stops and gives you a serious look.

"You do understand that I'm saying this because I care about you, right?"

You nod without looking at his face.

"Just know that I'm constantly looking out for you and I will not allow anything bad to happen to you."

He pauses again, his face becoming more serious.

"I will keep my eyes on you."

You notice that Gojo has indeed been keeping a close watch over you. You can feel his eyes on you at all times, watching your every move and making sure you stay safe. He is also keeping an eye on who you talk to and what you do, making sure that you don't do anything foolish again.

He's been very vigilant and keeping a close eye on you, which makes you feel both secure and a bit uneasy at the same time.

Despite feeling somewhat uneasy, you trust Gojo and feel secure that he will protect you and keep you safe. You know that he is only doing this to make sure that you don't do anything foolish again, and ultimately you feel reassured by his watchful eyes.

It's true, you know that Gojo will come rushing to your rescue at the slightest indication of injury or discomfort. He's always keeping an eye on you and ready to act at any moment. His vigilance makes you feel both safe and loved, and you realize how lucky you are to have him. You know that he would do anything to protect and heal you.

The other sorcerers started noticing the strange behavior of Gojo. They found it odd that he began keeping a close eye on you and always watching out for you. They were wondering why he was doing this, as usually he doesn't bother about such small matters.

Whenever they pointed this out to him, he would give some reasons like "You're weak" and "You don't know what you are doing" which would make you angrily pout and say "I am not weak!", and "I know what I'm doing".

You are training with Yuji when something unexpected happens, and you find yourself in a lewd position with Yuji on top of you. Yuji fumbles over his own feet and falls on top of you, catching you both off guard. Both of you are flustered.

Just then, Gojo appears from nowhere. He sees you and Yuji in a very provocative position. He grabs Yuji's hoodie and pulls him off you.

"What you two are doing?" He notices Yuji blushing and stuttering, and you're still shaken and flustered by the situation.

"W-we were just t-training ..." Yuji stutters.

"Really. T-training is..." You also stutter, and you both appear flustered and embarrassed.

Suddenly, something explodes inside Gojo. At first, he thought it was just his annoyance with Yuji, but there was more to it. Fear or an unknown emotion he is not sure of it. He wanted to be your first choice, not anyone else.

Yuji says, "Uh.. I.. I have an important work.. I have to leave now." Yuji walks away with an awkward smile.

You both stand awkwardly, Gojo's expression unreadable. You avoid looking at him because you can feel his intense stare on you.

"Uh, I need to go somewhere," you suddenly say.

As you're about to leave, he says "You are not going anywhere."

"W-why not?"

"Because I said so. You are not going anywhere", his voice demmanding and angry He says with some intensity in that, his eyes are pinning you to your place.

" I-i don't understand why not ", you argue

"You don't need to understand."

You can see tension building up in his body, his muscles stiffening . He's acting weird than usual..... you cannot put your finger to it, but something's definitely wrong.

"Well , YOU CANT JUST ORDER ME AROUND LIKE THAT" you suddenly snap.

He stares at you with a fiery look, his eyes like daggers "Do not give me that attitude." His voice is laced with anger, he's clearly not in a good mood. He seems to be losing his patience with you.

"S-stop making fool of me infront of everyone."

He continues to stare at you for a minute, his rage rising

"Is that what you think?" He askss angrily, leaning closer to you while speaking.

You move back, now your back is against the wall of the Jujutsu High building

He appears to notice you leaning back and steps back slightly to give you some personal space. He's still looking at you with fierce eyes, and his voice remains keen as he speaks.

"I'm not making a fool of you in front of everyone. I'm just trying to protect you."

"I.. I don't need your protection"

He grimaces at that statement, his temper boiling up inside him once again. "Hah! You don't remember do you?", his voice harsh as he slams his hands on the wall trapping you against it. His voice is laced with anger as he speaks, he looks down at you. "You do not need my protection, then why the hell were you dying that day?", he growls.

"I.. am really grateful to you for that but that does not m-", you protest He interrupts you, his voice harsh.

"Shut up!" He's livid now, he takes off his blindfold with one hand and you can see his crystal blue, like diamond sword as he glares at you. "If you are really grateful why don't you show that to me?"

Your face shows confusion.

He's so close to you that you can feel his hot breath on your neck. He seems to be enjoying making you squirm, his eyes still filled with an intense look. "Show me how grateful you are. Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

You try to push him away, but he holds his ground, not letting you go. You can feel his chest now against your body, heat radiating from him. He gives you a smirk as his hands move to hold your wrist, restraining you.

Your voice shake as you understand the situation you are in, "H-how am I gonna do that?"

"Hmmm..by giving me your virginity" he says with a hint of amusement in his voice .

Your eyes widen in fear and excitement, "Y-your joking."

His eyes are still intense and serious as he looks down on you. "Am I though?..."

"Sensei pls let me go", you plead, struggling.

"You wouldn’t wanna be on my bad side, sweetheart.” He grinned slyly, his grip tightening around her wrist. His breath ghosting across her cheek. He presses her against the wall more as his ears fill with her pondering heartbeats. “I will be gentle I promise..” His lips graze your earlobe gently, sending chills down your spine.

"N-no please", your voice begging to let go.

“Hmm Don't you trust me Y/N? ” Gojo purs into your ear, his free hand roaming along your body, “I never intend to hurt you."

He releases his grip on your arms letting them fall down, and they shift to grab his shoulders to push him away. His hands cups your cheeks, squeezing them gently, keeping you close to his body. He chuckles darkly, a sinister look dancing in his eyes. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to give you what you need.”

He does not wait for your response, his hands already travelling down to your legs going up to your thighs under your uniform skirt. You bite your lower lip closing eyes "Aww, you like that, baby? That’s good.” His voice dripped with seduction as he continues upward, lingering on your thighs. Gojo can't help but chuckle softly, his mouth hovering above yours.

“Guess you ain’t as resistant as you pretend to be.” He leans in, his lips brushing against yours, seizing the opportunity to capture your lips with his own. His tongue darts out to taste you, claiming ownership of your mouth. Gojo wants you, he needs you, and now he's taking you right here. His hands roam freely, exploring every inch of your lovely body. As the kiss intensified, he feels your submission within it. His hand moves up to cup your breast, kneading it gently through your clothes.

“Let me have you,” he growls his teeth gently grazing your bottom lip. His other hand slide down your side, cupping your ass and pulling you closer, the heat building up in your core is unmistakable.

"P-please not here, w-what if someone-"

"Then you better not make any noise." He whispers against your lips. His hands shift, beginning to tug at the buttons of your uniform shirt.

“We’ll do this right, ok?” He says reassuringly, yet demanding obedience. He can't resist the urge anymore, his body screams for you, his soul desires you. He needs to make this moment last, to imprint it onto both your minds forever. He starts unbuttoning your uniform, revealing delicate skin beneath.Your eyes follow his hand movements.

A gentle bite on your neck made you gasp softly; a rush of adrenaline filled the air. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll protect you from everything else.”

His voice was rough, almost animalistic in its hunger. He was determined to satisfy his primal urges. He unbottons all the bottons of your shirt.

You try to hide your exposed chest.

Gojo's smirk widened as he feels you hiding yourself from him. "Don't do it.” He orders hoarsely, playing with the strap of your bra. "Don't you trust me?"

You nod, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

He takes your hand which was hiding your breasts and kisses them gently. Pulling your bra up, he reveals your breasts, nipples hardening at his gaze. His thumbs brushed against your nipples, teasing them softly. His hands travel down your waist, lifting your thigh up. His thumb rubbing against your clad clit.

You flinch at his touch, his lips curl up to an evil smile as he finds your neck again, nipping and sucking, marking you as his own.

"Let me take care of you, baby." He pushes your undies aside, thrusting a finger inside you.

Your eyes shut close at his sudden thrust, "Aah, s-so sudden.." your one arm wrap itself around his neck and the other grabs his shoudler for balance.

"Your so wet yet you say you don't want this.. So Tight, ah" Gojo speaks, his voice low and husky. He adds another finger, stretching you wide. "You have no idea how much we both want this, Y/N. It's been killing me – waiting, watching you from a ar."

"nngh n-no more ssensei, c-cant stand"

Gojo's smirk grew bigger, his fingers moving inside you faster. “Can’t handle this, huh?” He chuckles darkly, thrusting his fingers deeper. "If you can't handle my fingers, how are you gonna handle my cock hm?"

"Pls I can't take anymore."

“You said you are not weak, why don't you try and prove it?” His voice was rough, his hips grinding against you. He hooks his finger on your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Hnghh-" you arch your body as his fingers move faster, hitting a spot that makes you whimper softly, your nails digging into his shoulder as you feel yourself reaching climax, he feels your walls tightening more. his other hand leaves your waist and grabs your breasts, squeezing them roughly, pinching and rolling your nipples slightly. His fingers curl inside you, and you cry out creaming with his fingers in you.

"Shh", he harshly covers your mouth, "you don't want people to see you like this do you?"

You shake your head frantically, as knees shake and you gradually collapse to the ground. He lets you collapse on ground as you breath after such an intense orgasm for the first time in your life.

“Easy, my little bird,” he coos, unbuckeling his belt pulling his erect shaft. “Open your mouth”

Your eyes shift to his member to his face "W-what?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Y/N." He says, his voice thick with lust. "Open your mouth if you don't want to get hurt when I fuck you with it." He repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

"I-its so big"

"Don't worry I will guide you through it" You slowly open your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. He smiles, his eyes filled with lust and desire. He slowly thrusts his cock into your mouth, feeling your tongue swirl around him. He moans softly, his fingers tangling in your hair protecting the back of your head, as he pushes your head against the wall. He thrusts deeper, feeling your gag reflex kick in.

He pulls back slightly, giving you a chance to breathe. He thrusts back in, feeling your throat constrict around him. He moans louder, his hands pulling your head closer to him. He thrusts faster, feeling your nose press against his stomach.

Gojo grins, "That's right, take it all." He groans, his hips pistoning harder, forcing you to take his full length. He slams into you, thrusting in and out of your mouth, his movements becoming erratic. He's so close, his eyes roll back in pleasure. His fingernails dig into your scalp, his balls slapping against your chin.

"Almost there..." he pulls out his dick before he can cum. "Mhm..Nah.. Not gonna cum in your mouth..", drools drip down your chin. You inhale as much air as possible "Good girl." He praises, his breath ragged. He picks you up with his hands beneath your thighs , he presses your legs tightly against the wall as he rubs himself against your wetness.

"D-dont go any further..", you protest.

“I promise I'll pull out if it hurts.” He says, his breath hot against your ear. He positions himself at your entrance, his tip sliding in easily. "I can never hurt you", he gives you a small peck on your lips, as he pushes himself for inside you.

"P-please it hurts .. Ahh.. p-pull it out"

"If you struggle more its gonna hurt you, so relax" He growls, his voice thick with lust. He pushes himself in, inch by inch.

Your body shakes with each inch he pushing inside you. Tears roll down your cheek, toes curling at the pain yet pleasure.

"You crying?" He asks with a teasing look in his face, his pace slowing down. "it won't hurt forever" He thrusts fully in you.

You body arches back against the wall.

"Just relax." He breathes, his hips rocking against you. "Feels good, doesn't it?" He asks, his dick sliding in and out of you rhythmically. He pumps you slowly at first, letting you adjust to the feeling.

Your mind is blank, your just taking everything he is giving to you. He starts thrusting faster, his grip on your hips tightens.

"You're so fucking good, baby. So tight and wet...” He pants, his eyes locked on yours. He slams himself inside you, your walls gripping his size. He bites his lower lip, trying not to release too soon. He slams against your womb, feeling you tighten around him. He kisses your forehead . "I'll cherish you forever, I'll protect you, promise". He holds your face with one hand, forcing you to look into his eyes. He leans down, his lips capturing yours. "I love you." He says between kisses.

"S-sensei hnghh .. a-ah .. l-love you too.. a-ah" Gojo groans, his thrusts becoming harder and rougher, You wrap your legs around his waist to feel him deeper.

"Hah! I knew you felt it too.." He thrusts harder, deep thrusts making you moan loudly. He grips your ass, making sure every inch goes in. "Tell me again! Tell me how much you love me!" He roars, one of his hand squeezed your breasts while the other was placed on the wall maintaining balance. His grip on your ass tightens as he feels his climax approaching.

“Love you!” You scream, your nails digging into his shoulders. "

"Yes! That's it!” He roars, his hips bucking wildly. He sucks on your breasts alternatively and fiercely, his teeth grazing your nipple.

“Fuck! Yes!” He releases, your breast with a lewd sound turning you around, pushing you against the wall, by your neck as he slams into you from the back

"Gon' cum", you whimper.

His dick slides in and out of you at a frenzied pace. He spanks your ass, causing you to yelp. He thrusts deeply, your walls milking him.

"Cum for me, baby!" He groans, his pace increasing. "Do it!" His voice tingling your ears as his thrusts getting more and more forceful. His nails dig into your skin as he nears his peak.

"mhm y-yes.. ah", you cum, squeezing his dick so tightly that he can't help but moan His hips slowing down letting you relax before jerking and spilling inside you, filling your womb .

He collapses on top of you, catching his breath. "You're mine.. Now that I have take your virginity." He mutters, nuzzling your hair. "No one can take you away from me." He whispers, his heart racing.

He lifts away from you.. Your nails glide down the wall as your knees go weak and you collapse on the ground with your ass high up and his seed spilling out of you His cum dripping down your thighs "W-why did you cum inside?", your voice still shaken. He smirks, kneeling beside you, he cleans you up, his fingers running over your sensitive clit. "The way your walls were squeezing me. Seemed they didn't want to leave my dick alone mhm" He spreads your legs, admiring his work.

"Don't worry gon buy you emergency contraception" He laughs, shaking his head. "Though you would look good with my child" He slaps your cunt only to watch his seed drooling down and your walls clench around nothing.

"Let's go shall we? or you gon keep your ass high up in the air for me to invade you more"

You get up, glaring at him and try to walk but falls down but gojo holds before you fall. Gojo chuckles, holding your waist not letting you fall.

“You’re so cute when you try to be mad but fail, Y/N.” He says, smiling brightly. "Looks like you won't be able to walk for a few days huh" He says, helping you walk.

Yuji and Nobara notice you two approaching them, and Yuji's face lightens with amusement.

"Are you Okay Y/N?" Yuji smirks and raises his eyebrow.

Gojo shrugs. "Ahahahahahahaha.. She just fell down and I had to look out for her as I usually do"

Nobara rolls her eyes and whispers to Yuji, who giggles. "I wonder what happened here." She chuckles, crossing her arms.

Megumi looks at you with concern on his face.

Gojo snickers as he holds you tighter. "I told you she's fragile," he says, his arm draped around your shoulder.

You yell back at him "I AM NOT WEAKKK"

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lovemyavatar · 1 year

Text

Equilibrium

Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

this one’s for you, @tiredmamaissy ily

Warnings: purely smut, (aged up) nsfw, p in v, oral (female receiving), mating, soft dom Neteyam

Notes: this is set within the same universe as Push and Pull, however it can be read as a standalone

“Where are you taking me, ‘Teyam?”

He guides you forward, long fingers loosely entwined, arm extended at his back as he leisurely steps through the brush. His lips twitch with the ghost of a smile, excitement blooming in his stomach.

A giggle bubbles up your throat, feet stumbling over rocks and upturned roots as you blindly follow him through the forest. Long lashes flutter beneath the soft cloth he’d tied gently around your head, just after a searing look and a quiet you trust me, yawne (beloved)?

He’s spent the last week doting on your every need, to the point of excess. Since learning about how you felt ignored, cast aside by his cold demeanor in front of the clan, he’s made it his mission to lavish you with attention at all times.

Even when your cheeks prickle with heat and you gently bat wandering hands away, he only pulls you closer, planting sweet kisses along your neck and murmuring a quiet be good beside your ear.

It brings warmth to your chest, having him love you so publicly. Truthfully, the clan has been aware of the underlying tension between you for years now. Seeing as his parents promised you to each other at a young age anyway, it only made sense that you’d finally given into your desires.

The back and forth was purely a product of two idiots so stuck in their heads they couldn’t see what was right in front of them.

Neteyam stops abruptly, and you stumble, landing against a strong back. He chuckles softly before turning, hands reaching up to delicately remove your blindfold.

You blink against the low light, vision refocusing. Brilliant, glowing purple surrounds you. Your head swivels from side to side, taking in the long hanging tendrils of one of your favorite places in the forest.

A smile pulls at your lips as you run a hand through the dangling branches of the Tree of Souls. It feels alive, the whispers of ancestors long buried wafting over your skin.

When your eyes trail back to him, breath catches in your throat. His chin is low, eyes molten with desire and something else, something deeper. His heated gaze bores through you, straight to the growing warmth between your legs.

Your thighs press together, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed. The corner of his lips twitches into a tiny smirk. One of his large hands dwarfs yours as he peels it from your side before bringing it to his lips to plant a lingering kiss along your knuckles.

“Be mine?” He whispers, voice hoarse.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up your chest, fingers tightening against his. “We’ve been over this, yawnetu (love). I’m all yours.”

“I mean…be mine—here.” He takes a step closer, free hand skimming the small of your back. He pulls you into him, chests pressed together tightly. “Before our ancestors. Before Eywa.”

Your eyes pop wide and you move back, eyes scanning his serene expression. You search for any hesitation, any lingering doubts. When all you see is assurance, your lips part in surprise.

“I thought…” Your heart sputters in your chest, thrumming harshly between your ribs.

Though you’ve wanted this all along, you’ve tried so hard not to push him. To force his hand before he’s truly ready. His current fascination with you has been more than satisfactory, the way he’s made your pleasure a priority enough to make you nearly forget you aren’t really mated.

His hand drops yours to move around his back, searing gaze never leaving you as he grips his queue and brings it over his shoulder.

“I want you—all of you—to be mine.” The raw desire in his eyes makes your core clench with anticipation.

He was lost before, distracted by obligation and expectation. Now that he has you, gets to live the rest of his life with you at his side, he wants it all. No, he needs it all. A need to possess, to dominate, has been growing within him, and it’s nearing the breaking point.

“Okay, just…slow down, Nete.” You’re breathless, partially in disbelief that this is finally happening.

Your hands move up to caress the sides of his face, eyes flicking over his features one last time before capturing his lips with yours. He responds instantly, arms tightening around your middle until not even a fraction of space exists between you.

Your head tilts, tongue prodding his lips until he opens for you, giving you the freedom to explore. A groan rumbles his chest, the gentle vibration warming your lower belly. A gasp tears up your throat as he suddenly smooths his hands down your back, until they hook beneath your thighs and lift your feet off the ground.

Your legs wind around his waist, and he surprises you again by lowering you both to the earth. He gently guides you into his lap as he sits on the soft grass, legs outstretched. A quiet hum passes between frantic kisses as you settle into him, loincloth sliding on your already slick core.

The friction hits your clit just right, so you do it again, hips rocking along his hardened length. He moans beneath you, one hand smoothing down your back while the other trails up toward your neck. Long fingers tangle into the braids at the base of your skull and jerk your head back.

He peppers open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, forcing your face toward the sky with his firm hold. You pant above him, lower belly tightening. Your hands roam his body freely, fingertips tracing the line of his shoulders before skimming down his chest.

He shudders beneath you, hot breath stuttering against your skin. Your light touch doesn’t stop until it hits the straining heat contained within his loincloth. Delicate fingers cup his rock hard length with one hand while the other attempts to undo the string keeping him from you.

Suddenly, he pulls away from your neck, strong grip clasping your wrist. He peels your hand away, instead placing it above his racing heart. His cock twitches in protest, a tortured groan slipping past his lips as he sucks another bruise into your skin. He wants to take care of you first, no matter desperate he is to claim you.

“If we’re gonna do this, I need you to be a good girl and listen, okay?” He peels his lips from your neck to catch your eyes pointedly.

You nod quickly, already willing to do anything he asks. The corner of his lips lifts in a coy smirk. He loves you like this. So compliant, so eager to please. That fiery disobedience he cherishes in your everyday life is long gone, replaced with this version of you, his good girl that he loves to ravage.

There’s something so alluring about watching a strong woman give so much power to him. Giving so much trust to him. It drives him absolutely wild.

One of his hands leaves you to grab his queue, still slung over his shoulder. You simply watch for a moment, mesmerized as he lifts the tip, small tendrils curling in the air. You force down a swallow, throat suddenly feeling hoarse.

With trembling fingers, you reach toward your back and gently bring your queue forward. Your gaze is locked on the way it seems to reach for his. The two of you remain still for several long moments, ragged breaths mingling.

Neteyam hooks a fingertip beneath your chin, gently drawing your face up toward him. His eyes, heavy-lidded with emotion, bore into you. Silently asking for permission.

You grant it without hesitation, presenting your queue with shaky hands. He grips your wrist lightly and guides you forward, finally forming tsaheylu (the bond).

A gasp lodges in your throat at the immediate rush of feeling. It pours into you, sinks deep within your chest. You watch as Neteyam’s pupils dilate until the gold of his eyes is nothing but a thin ring. His lips part, ears flattening against his head from the intensity of it.

You can feel everything.

The way his arms are wrapped tightly around your middle, holding you to him as if afraid you might slip away. The strength of his thighs as they support your weight. The throb of his cock, so hard between his legs.

Your lungs quiver, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. It’s not just the physical, but the mental aspect of the bond that’s so overwhelming.

It devours you. His love, adoration, desire fills every tiny space within your soul, until you feel nothing but him.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He growls, suddenly shoving you to the ground.

You barely have time to gasp in a lungful of air before he’s on you, lips claiming yours fiercely. Your back bows from the earth, whimpers muffled by his brutal kiss. Your core ruts against his, legs still tightly wound around his hips.

He moans lowly, feeling both your pleasure and his as the material of your loincloths create a delicious friction. He forces his mouth away from yours, feeling feverish. The desire to explore every inch of your body with this new perspective propels him downward.

His lips leave a searing trail down your neck, your chest, all the way down your trembling stomach. Until he reaches your dripping core. Long fingers grip the string of your loincloth, easily ripping it in two.

“Nete—oh!” Your scolding is cut short as he wrenches your thighs apart, dipping between them to lick a firm line along the lips of your pussy.

A ragged moan echoes through the trees. Your chest blooms with heat, feeling the way he absolutely loves every second of devouring you.

Two fingers slip into your waiting heat, pussy fluttering against the unexpected intrusion. His tongue swirls a familiar pattern over your clit, knowing exactly how you like it. Your hips jerk up toward his face, and he groans with pleasure.

He can’t help but grind his cock against the soft grass, the need to be inside you almost painful. The ache between his legs transfers through tsaheylu, making you whimper with impatience.

Your hips wiggle beneath him as he picks up the pace. It’s too much and not enough all at once. All of your senses are on overdrive, so much stimulus feeding through your skin and the bond it’s almost enough to knock you out cold.

“Sit still.” He rips his lips away from you to bark the order, molten yellow narrowing into a glare before he resumes his ministrations.

One of his hands presses against your lower belly, holding you firmly to the earth. You mewl, unable to obey even if you wanted to. It’s just too much, muscles tightening with an intense impeding orgasm.

Your legs close instinctively, something within you trying to get away from the overstimulation. Neteyam growls against you, and you cry out, the low rumble flinging you closer to the edge.

He roughly jerks your thighs part, landing a firm slap against the soft skin of your inner thigh. Your hips jump from the pleasurable sting, another broken moan falling from your lips.

Hot moisture fills your eyes, cascading down long lashes as your head is thrown back, every muscle in your body tensing. You shatter around him, pussy clenching his fingers tightly as you come undone.

The orgasm rips through you so fiercely, you slump to the earth when it’s over, completely spent. He groans with pleasure, tongue lapping up every drop of your slick. His fingers remain inside you even as he raises up onto his knees.

In an instant his loincloth is nothing but a ripped pile of fabric, cast aside somewhere near yours.

One hand balls into a fist beside your head, supporting his weight as he pulls his other hand from your sopping pussy. You whine at the sudden emptiness, legs wrapping around his hips to draw him closer.

He chuckles darkly, head dropping to lavish your neck with kisses. “What do you want, baby girl?”

You whimper beneath him, hips jutting toward his. You will him to understand through the bond.

“Use your words, sevin (pretty).” His voice drops with the gentle order, the sound only making your abandoned pussy clench harder. He groans at the feeling.

“Need you, ‘Teyam.” You’re a whiney mess, tears streaming down your face, hips bucking into his wantonly. But you can’t find it within yourself to push past the delirious desire to care.

“Need me to fuck you? Is that it?” He grinds his swollen cock into you. The tip sides along your pussy lips, so close yet so far from where you want it.

You’re impatient, his teasing driving you wild. Your ankles lock around his hips and you try twisting out from under him to take matters into your own hands. He growls a low warning, long fingers clamping around your throat. He shoves you back into the earth, practically snarling down at you, eyes alight with feral need.

“Don’t test me, muntxa (mate).” He swallows your desperate moans with a searing kiss, before roughly pulling back.

“Need more, ‘Teyam.” You gasp, breathless.

“Tell me what you want, baby girl.” He drags his tip along your sex again, knowing the answer but wanting to hear you say it.

“Need you to fuck me, ‘Tayem! Please!” You’re blubbering beneath him, all rational thought overcome by the emptiness deep in your womb.

“Okay, baby, you’re okay.” He coos gently, kissing away the tears as they stream down your cheeks.

He grips the base of his cock, gently entering you for the first time as a mated pair. Your cries echo overhead, trembling lungs unable to contain your noises of pure bliss.

Neteyam shudders above you, the wet heat of your pussy gripping him so tightly he fears he might cum already. He bottoms out with a torturously slow thrust, forehead pressing to yours for support. His chest heaves, heart thundering between his ribs.

“Move, ‘Teyam!” You beg, and he obeys.

His hips snap into yours fiercely, rocking your body against the grass with each hard slam of his cock. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the combined feeling of his body and yours too much.

You’re breathless, nothing but a whimpering mess as he pounds into you with a steady pace. Your back bows, bringing your belly flush with his. For a moment you’re impressed, knowing you wouldn’t be able to function enough through the intensity of the bond to keep the momentum he’s chosen.

You clench around him, and he moans, long and low in his chest.

“Shit, Y/N, gonna cum again for me?” His eyes blaze with passion, boring into you from above.

A broken whimper is all you can muster. You’ve never orgasmed more than once in a session, despite Neteyam’s best efforts. It’s been a goal he’s desperately tried to reach in recent weeks, and now it seemed to be a reality.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me. Cum on your mate’s cock.” He grunts against your neck, sharp fangs dragging along your skin.

The slight sting catapults you into your orgasm, white hot pleasure ripping through you. Your scream is barely muffled by his victorious groan of pleasure. The walls of your pussy flutter around him, sending him over the edge along with you. He fills your womb with his release, teeth sinking gently into your skin.

The two of you are still for several long moments, chests heaving, basking in the afterglow of sensation through the bond. Once your walls stop clenching around his length, he slowly pulls out. His teeth release you, tongue soothing the small dots of blood left behind.

He falls to the earth beside you, instantly wrapping strong arms around your waist. He pulls you in, cradling you against his chest. You’re limp in his hold, spent from his thorough fucking. He plants a light kiss along your temple, resting his head above yours on the grass.

“I see you, Y/N.” His voice is a hoarse whisper, thick with emotion.

“I see you, Neteyam.” You nestle impossibly closer to his heart, ear pressed against his skin to feel the steady thrum.

The two of you quickly fall into a peaceful sleep, queues still connected, nothing but warmth and love passing through the bond.

#neteyam sully #neteyam smut #neteyam sully smut #neteyam fic #neteyam imagine #neteyam sully imagine #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam sully fic #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully x you

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smol-ackerman · 1 year

Text

SUEHIRO TETCHOU

ABILITY: Plum Blossoms in Snow

"There is evil that goes unpunished. There is good that goes unrewarded. Without this blade of mine, how does all that is good and bad in the world ever hope to achieve equilibrium?"

文豪ストレイドッグス S4 Ep. 07: Dogs hunt dogs

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r4ins · 1 year

Text

Bruce Wayne x Top Male Reader

cw. bottom bruce x dom male reader

He notices the smell first. He notices the smell immediately, because Bruce catalogues changes in his surroundings with infamous paranoia. It’s not a bad smell. It smells...filling. Like noodles, with a hint of fish.

Bruce takes his coat off, but not his suit jacket, and goes to the kitchen, footsteps carefully quiet. It’s highly unlikely anyone besides Alfred would be cooking in the kitchen, and he’d be alerted in the case of any kind of house breach, but still. It never pays to assume safety.

He edges towards his kitchen, ready to launch a defence, and then stops dead. Because Y/N is in his kitchen, setting the table.

Y/N looks up from his plating. He’s not wearing his mask, but not wearing the suit either.. “Hey,” he says with a not-quite smile. It’s wrong on Y/N’s face.

Bruce is left standing, dumbfounded and wrong-footed, watching Y/N garnish two bowls of noodles with parsley. Alfred nowhere in sight. Never a good sign. “What is this, Y/N?”

“Linguini,” Y/N says. He glances back at the stove. “And clams. White clam sauce. Simple enough, although Alfred was pretty strict on timing when he taught me the recipe.”

“Alfred...taught you the recipe,” Bruce repeats. The dumbfounded feeling grew stronger.

Y/N glances up at him, something soft on his face for a moment before he smooths it out. “You look good. But you don’t have to wear a suit tonight. Go put on something comfortable if you want.”

You don’t have to wear a suit. The words strike him hard, harder, he suspects, than Y/N meant them.

Bruce does retreat, and finds himself staring at his closet. He doesn’t really do casual, doesn’t really do being neither tabloid Bruce Wayne nor Batman, but he pulls out a t-shirt and a soft gray sweater anyway. He double-checks with Alfred that yes, Y/N’s presence is intentional, no, he’s not under any kind of influence, no spores, no alien mind control, no weird chemicals. Just Y/N. In his kitchen. Feeding him.

Alfred also takes a moment to explicitly inform him that he “approves of Master Y/N’s plans, sir” and then hangs up on him. Hangs up on him. Bruce walks back into the kitchen, because there’s nothing else to do. He takes a seat across from Y/N, who smiles at him, a real one this time.

It’s weird. There’s no other word for it. But Bruce was raised to be polite, so he swirls a mouthful of linguini around his fork and tastes it. Y/N watches as he swallows. Bruce clears his throat, says, “It’s delicious, thank you.”

“Compliments to Alfred, as I said,” Y/N deflects, modest as ever, looking a little sheepish. It’s that that makes Bruce start to unwind, his shoulders coming down, his stomach loosening. He’s still wary, he’s always wary. But it’s Y/N. Y/N is loose-limbed, relaxed, in a casual green sweater much the same as Bruce is in grey. It wasn’t intentional, Bruce thinks, wryly, but they do never seem to get away from their chosen colors.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asks. His eyes light up, ready to tease.

Bruce shrugs, elegantly. He’s regained some of his equilibrium. It’s not the first time he’s had dinner alone with Y/N, after all, just the first time in his house, and with no warning. “Your sweater is green. Mine is grey. I assume it wasn’t intentional.”

Y/N glances down at himself as if surprised. “I guess not. I certainly didn’t want us to be in uniform for this conversation.”

Bruce zeroes in on that last part. “And what is this conversation, Y/N?” He lifts another forkful to his mouth, refusing to break eye contact.

Y/N doesn’t say anything for a moment, his cheeks growing a little red. “Ah,” he fumbles.

Bruce steps in, ruthless now that he’s found a weak spot. “A simple seduction? Blowing off some steam with someone else who knows the secret? The idea has some appeal, I have to admit.”

Y/N looks offended, opens his mouth. Bruce pushes on. “Or perhaps the rest of the League has decided they’ve had enough of me and are kicking me off the team?”

“No, Bruce—” Y/N says, outraged on Batman’s behalf.

“Or perhaps, Y/N, you’re here to tell me I’ve contracted some alien disease or other. Or maybe it’s that you’ve contracted some alien disease or other.”

Y/N has closed his mouth by now, and weathers it all with restraint, if not with stoicism.

“Are you finished?” he asks, deliberately mild, taking a sip of his wine.

Bruce arches an eyebrow at him. “Am I ever?”

Y/N laughs, completely tension free. “I guess then the Bat wouldn’t exist.” He puts down his glass of wine, stands up, and strides purposefully around the table to Bruce, all his careful presentation forgotten.

“I assume we’ve come to the point,” Bruce says, because he’s a bastard sometimes and Y/N knows that.

Y/N does know that. “You’re cruel when you’re confused or worried. Especially with me,” he says, and that takes the wind out of Bruce’s sails, some. He refuses to get up, though, to grant Y/N that victory. Y/N’s shoulders tighten, and he takes a deep breath. “All this is, is: I love you, and I want to spend the night with you. Just one.”

Bruce is on his feet before he can process it, snarling and putting his back toward the wall. “You don’t,” he says, gritting it out through his teeth. “You don’t.”

Y/N doesn’t bother responding, just walks towards him, slowly and deliberately. Bruce’s back hits the wall. If it were anyone else, he would keep moving, find any of the numerous weapons he keeps concealed on the property, but Y/N could break him in half in an instant, and Y/N keeps his eyes on his and Bruce can’t seem to make himself do anything except flinch into stillness when Y/N’s hand lands on his face.

“Look, it’s—it’s tactical.” Y/N’s thumb strokes his cheekbone with unbearable tenderness. How many hours of training did this take? Bruce knows that a man like Y/N could crush him without a thought, it’s not just softness, it’s discipline, and that, more than anything, makes Bruce’s breath catch. Y/N’s eyes hover at the base of his throat. Not ashamed, but resigned. “You and I know that—that there’s something between us. Something deep, something permanent. And we also know that you won’t let this be permanent, not in a real way, not in a vulnerable way, so…” Y/N stops, takes a deep breath. Raises his chin to look Bruce right in the eyes. “One night, Bruce. That’s all. One night to acknowledge this and then we let it be.”

“That’s—it won’t work.” Bruce’s heart is hammering and Y/N’s thumb is stroking right over his pulse point under his jaw. “It’ll just make it worse.”

“We all know your self-control.” Y/N’s thumb moves in a smooth line down until it stops right under the point where Bruce’s sternum ends―a perfect, vulnerable path to his heart. “And I know mine.” It’s enormous, this trust, the way Bruce’s body trembles beneath Y/N’s touch—light, so light, lighter than Bruce can even truly quantify because of the power that thrums through every one of Y/N’s cells. There is gentle, and then there is careful, and Y/N is both. Every action he takes is so measured—how did he not realize before?

Y/N leans in, pausing right before their lips touch. Bruce makes no move to meet him. Y/N’s mouth curves upward into a smile. “Please?” he murmurs, the warm air from his mouth brushing Bruce’s skin.

Bruce is only a man, and Y/N is more-than, and—

He leans forward just enough to meet Y/N. Y/N, who melts a little, like this chaste press of lips is a heady, passionate rush. Well, Bruce can do one better than that; he tilts his head and licks into Y/N’s mouth, sliding his fingers into his hair to draw him closer, and suddenly there’s a feeling of air rushing past him and they’re in his bedroom. Bruce can’t even bring himself to be angry about it. He lets Y/N swallow his inevitable gasp, scrapes his teeth against Y/N’s pulse point, slides his hands beneath Y/N’s undershirt, tugging it up from his belt. Y/N lifts his arms obligingly.

He really is beautiful, Bruce can’t deny that. Especially right now, all that lush, seamless golden skin on display, literally saturated in sunshine. Bruce, by contrast, is covered in scars, no matter how well-healed, and he’s not body-shy, but he keenly feels the contrast between them, and the awareness that Y/N can map out the differences between the textures of his skin very nearly to the microscopic. He rubs his thumbs across Y/N’s nipples, a little rough, but Y/N—

Y/N is smiling again, a little helplessly this time. Like he’s really happy to be doing this. Like there’s joy in this for him. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, sinking to his knees, fingers hooked on Bruce’s belt loops. Bruce lets him draw his pants and underwear down, divest him of socks and shoes and watches as Y/N does the same for himself before sliding his hands and mouth up Bruce’s thighs.

As arousing and arresting as it is—and it is, the heat coursing through Bruce’s body is of an intensity unlike he’s felt in years—to see the most powerful man in the world on his knees, ready to suck Bruce’s cock, he stops Y/N with a hand in his hair.

“No,” he says, surprising them both. He swallows. “If we’re doing this, if we’re laying all cards on the table, then—I want you inside me.” It’s been a long time since he was shy about sex, shy about asking for what he wanted, but Y/N is just so sincere in everything he does that Bruce feels how the words rattle on their way out of his throat.

Y/N inhales a shaky, sharp breath, stands, and moves to kiss him like this is too much to bear. He walks Bruce backward to the bed, sucking on his tongue, cradles his head as they hit the mattress as though he’s afraid of hurting him.

Y/N takes a while opening him up. He’s gentle about it. He acts like they have time. Bruce wants to snarl, to buck his hips, to force Y/N to get on with it so it can be over and a memory he can look back on with frenzied, punishing, aching regret he can press like a bruise over and over again, but Y/N knows Bruce, Y/N keeps a hand on him, right below his ribs, applying just the barest fraction of that incalculable strength, and keeps moving at his slow, safe pace.

Bruce flings an arm over his eyes. He shudders.

“Show me what you like,” Y/N says. He kisses the inside of Bruce’s thighs, mouths at his balls and the soft place next to his hipbone. “I can’t read your mind, Bruce. Never could. Talk to me. Tell me.”

“More,” is all Bruce says.

Y/N listens, he knows when and how to push, in words, in silences. He does ease a third finger in, carefully, snugly, rubbing the tips of his fingers against Bruce’s walls in slow, maddening circles. Despite himself, Bruce finds his hips trying to bear down just the slightest amount, his muscles twitching in an effort not to squeeze.

It’s only partially because he’s resisting, still. Part of him just wants this to last as long as it can. If he doesn’t chase, if he just takes what Y/N gives—

And oh, how Y/N gives. He’s beginning to pump his wrist at a building pace, sending sparks flying outward down to Bruce’s toes, but his mouth, his mouth is everywhere, reverence evident in Y/N’s eyes fluttering half-closed, then snapping open again as if he’s forcing himself to watch, forcing himself to remember, because he knows he won’t get another chance.

Because he knows Bruce won’t give him one.

Y/N’s fingers stretch just a little wider, pump just a little faster, curl just the right way, and Bruce’s back arches off the bed.

“Christ, you’ve had practice with this, haven’t you?” Bruce asks, laughing a little, breathless. He only sounds a little wrecked, although the effect is ruined by the way his thighs keep shaking. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Y/N grins and twists his fingers again, making Bruce bite back a curse. “Not all of us can be billionaire playboys, but that doesn’t mean I’m inexperienced, either,” he teases. And oh, he is a tease, moving his hand fast with almost just enough pressure, almost at the right spot, and Bruce can’t help it, he chases and lets his muscles squeeze just once to get maximum friction—and then Y/N pulls out. Of course.

Bruce groans and sits up on his elbows, panting. He hadn’t even realized he’s been breathing so hard, or that there’s a sheen of sweat on his chest. He feels a little drunk, actually, and he’s not sure how long he’s been here, how long Y/N has been tirelessly pushing and pulling him to and from the edge. It’s disorienting. He normally is so strict about awareness of time in his body. He’s about to panic a little, to lash out, if only with words, when he’s arrested by Y/N’s soft eyes.

“Stay with me,” Y/N says, and god, where else would Bruce go? The vulnerability of this thought makes him angry, makes him frightened, and Bruce lunges over to Y/N, intent to bruise, and bites along his collarbone, his Adam’s apple, under his ear. Y/N moans and moves with it, holding onto Bruce’s shoulders. “Do what you need to do,” he says. “Do what you want.”

He lets out a cry when Bruce fists his cock, when he hooks an ankle around Y/N’s thigh and pulls him down.

Y/N is big, not especially long but solid and wide, and if he’s as good with his cock as he is with his fingers—Bruce growls when Y/N places one hand on his ribs and the other on top of Bruce’s hand so they can slick up his cock together and start sliding it in.

Y/N goes slow—too slow, for Bruce. Bruce presses his hands to Y/N’s cheekbones, surprising himself by brushing a lock of Y/N’s hair out of his eyes automatically, as if it’s something he does every day. “Y/N,” he says, voice caught between raw and growling, “I’m not going to break.”

Y/N shakes his head, kisses one of Bruce’s palms, then his wrist. Bruce trembles under the weight of it, that emotion, before he can stop himself. “I’m not being careful,” Y/N says, rocking his hips in with tiny motions, brushing a thumb under Bruce’s eye, as if there were tears there. “I’m savouring you.”

It’s a while later when he’s finally fully seated and Bruce almost doesn’t even notice because Y/N has been sucking and licking at his neck, his mouth, his shoulder, and Bruce has been running his hands over every bit of Y/N’s skin he could reach, tugging at his hair and feeling Y/N arch against him and lifting his hips to meet him, feeling like he can just sink into this, like they can just sink into each other and disappear. And then Y/N starts moving.

It’s torture, perfect torture, and Bruce can’t remember being fucked like this, ever, not with the way Y/N brushes perfectly against his walls with every roll of his hips, not with the way he circles and makes his every nerve ending spark. Maybe it has to do with the way it feels less like he’s just fucking Bruce in and out and more like they’ve gone under some kind of tide, or maybe it has to do with the way Y/N has placed them eye to eye, resting their foreheads together, because Bruce doesn’t have to be a detective to know exactly what that means.

Y/N wants to remember this. Y/N wants to watch. It’s awful. It’s exquisite.

“You really love me, don’t you?” Bruce asks, breathless, trailing a finger over Y/N’s cheekbone, letting out a little unh or two, or five, as Y/N moves a little harder, a little faster at Bruce’s question. Like he can’t help it.

“So much more than you’ll let me,” Y/N says, and he looks helpless with it, like he’s the one being fucked, not the other way around, and Bruce hadn’t thought he would feel more liquid desire rush through him at those words, but he hooks his ankles around Y/N’s back anyway, to tell him I’m asking for more now, I’m letting you now without having to say it. Y/N keeps the faster pace, and Bruce starts to feel his stomach grow taut and heat build in his belly, and he can’t stop letting out little pants and moans at every motion of Y/N’s cock against what feels like every part of him.

“I can’t—I don’t think I can live without this now,” Bruce gasps, feeling like the words are torn from him, from that oh-so-vulnerable place under his ribs where Y/N’s hand still rests. If he wanted to—if he wanted to tear them, or anything else out of Bruce, he could. But he wouldn’t. That was Y/N. He locks his arms behind Y/N’s neck, pulling him down to hide his face in Y/N’s shoulder, muffle his own gasping breaths.

And this was Y/N, too, that Bruce knew he knew Bruce meant— I don’t think I can live without you, now

“Look at me,” Y/N murmurs, coaxing Bruce out, gently pulling away just enough to look Bruce in the eye. He’s smiling that not-quite smile again, and rolling his hips in such a slowed, gorgeous, inexorable rhythm that Bruce really thinks for a moment he might die, just like this, just from Y/N’s skin against his, Y/N inside him, Y/N’s eyes not letting him look away. “You won’t have to,” Y/N says, like it’s a certainty, like he really is utterly invulnerable and timeless. “And I’ll live with that, if you’ll have me.”

It’s too much, it’s all too much, Y/N’s naked, unashamed and earnest adoration, and the way he filled Bruce, sheltered him, with his arms and his eyes and this tiding, exquisite rhythm. The human body was so fragile, and the sheets and the mattress under it, and Bruce could feel all of it, in Y/N’s gentleness—and the heat of him, so tight against his walls and spreading to his stomach, his thighs, his chest—

Bruce squirms, fitful, in a way he hasn’t been for years during sex, needing more and less and never-stop-forever and lets out a high, breathy moan that’s nearly a sob. “Y/N. Y/N—”

“Bruce,” Y/N gasps, and they clutch at each other, Bruce clawing at Y/N’s back because it’s suddenly important, so important, that even if they only last a moment that there are marks, and then he remembers he can ask—

“Kiss me. God, please—” His gasp is swallowed up by Y/N’s mouth crushing to his, their tongues mapping each others’ mouths, pants from Bruce’s mouth meeting soft-growing-louder groans from Y/N. He digs his heels into Y/N’s lower back, lifting his hips to meet his pace as best he can, and Y/N shifts the angle slightly, so slightly, but it’s enough. Bruce cries out, completely surrendering, and is gone, gone, gone. His orgasm seems to go on forever, bursting out to his fingers and toes, and settles in liquid and electric to the aftershocks. Y/N fucks him through it and he feels more than hears Y/N groan and stutter his hips, spilling into him, and then they’re still.

Y/N is careful not to rest too much weight on him, but hasn’t moved, letting his cock soften inside Bruce, and Bruce hasn’t made him move. They catch their breath, still mingling.

Bruce still can’t look him in the eye, but he cards a hand through Y/N’s hair and murmurs, “Stay. Please, stay.”

Y/N sighs. “Anything for you.”

#dc comics #gay #top male reader #x male reader #bottom bruce wayne #bruce wayne #battinson #bruce wayne x male reader #dom male reader #dc universe

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hitomisuzuya · 1 year

Text

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Oral sex in an alleyway. Degradation. Forced love confession. Alcohol use

a/n: I...I lied 😂 Someone I know is gonna find me and force me to sleep. But anyways, @xxventiswindblumexx stirred my brain to life again after I read their delicious Scara smut earlier. It was chef's kiss amazing. I borrowed a little inspiration from it, so some credit goes to them. I hope you don't mind, dear. There is a really dumb joke in this. 😭 I'm only making fun of myself with it.

You were out drinking at a tavern to celebrate another mission complete ahead of schedule. You were engaged in a playful drinking game with Childe. Scaramouche watched you quietly.

"Ha!" You exclaimed, wiping your mouth and smacking your glass onto the table. "You can admit defeat, Childe. It's fine. I won't laugh at you," you slurred slightly, giggling, "much." You added with a smirk.

Childe threw up his hands in defeat. "Okay, girlie. I know when I have been beat. I know you aren't a lightweight. By the way," he said, handing you a folded piece of paper. "Here is the new safe house codes. They reset today, remember."

"Oh, thanks," you took the piece of paper, and unfolded it to read. It said YMCA. You squinted, "Wait...this isn't enough letters, the code is usually four letters..ohh.."

So maybe you were drunker than you thought.

You crumbled up the piece of paper and put it in your pocket, a flush of embarrassment coating your cheeks. "...Whatever, thanks. I need some air," you grumbled, stumbling a little as you moved around Childe.

"Awwww come on, don't go," Childe.slurred, trying to pull you into his lap, "I didn't laugh at you even though the look on your face was hilarious."

"Stop, Childeeeee. I like someone else, remember?" You danced away from his hands.

Scaramouche narrowed his eyes. What you'd just said, that you liked someone made him curious. Romantically? Who was it?!

You'd followed him around like a puppy for months. The first time he told you fuck off and leave him alone, you only cocked your head, and flashed him that stupid gentle smile and said, "Hush, I know you don't mean that. You've been letting me sit with you for hours now. We've been sitting here in a companionable silence for awhile now and I swear I saw you nodding off. You feel comfortable around me, admit it."

He didn't. For months he treated you with the same contempt he would anyone else. But on the inside, you were starting to make him feel things he didn't think were possible. You made his chest tighten like he had a human heart. Once you started saying those kinds of things to him, he eventually silently accepted it and stopped calling you a pest.

Scaramouche remembered the first time he took a lock of your hair between his fingers. "Pretty.." he murmured in a moment of rare weakness. You'd looked away, blushing, "But..your hair color is much prettier than mine..who even likes blondes anyways...we are kind of dumb sometimes..."

He remembered bringing the lock of hair to brush against his lips, he eyes wide with anger at himself for showing weakness in front of a pest like you. He'd ordered you harshly to leave his sight moments after.

When you left the tavern, Scaramouche got up, and headed towards Childe. "Next time you do that, I'll break all of your fingers," he said, serious with his intent.

"Don't worry, I get it," Childe said, "But you know, if you aren't careful, someone else might get there before you." He sounded no longer inebriated. "You are more obvious than you think. At least to me you are."

Scaramouche glared, offended. He brushed off Childe's comment and followed after you out of the tavern. He found you across the street in an alley, resting your head against the wall, your eyes closed as you breathed in the chilly night air.

"Who is it?" The question spilled from his mouth.

"Huh? Oh, Scara, it's you. My equilibrium is a little off, so I couldn't hear you all that well," you replied, massaging the bridge of your nose.

"I said who is it!?" He snapped, smacking a hand on the wall next to your head. He knew it wouldn't take much for you spill who it was.

"Eek, alright, I'll tell you, just gimme some space would you?" You pushed your hand gently against his chest.

He crossed his arms, waiting and glaring.

"You caught me, Scara," you said, blushing as you traced the toe of your shoe through some dirt. "It's you that I like, okay? You don't have to scream at me about it. I would do anything for you."

Scaramouche regarded you coldly for a long moment, making you fidget nervously. "Okay, I'm gonna go, forget this ever happened." You waved at him as you turned to leave. And there it was, that stupid gentle smile of yours.

"Prove it!" he barked forcefully.

"What?" You had to make sure you'd heard him correctly.

"Did I stutter, slut? I said prove it. Prove that you would anything for me. Get down on your knees and prove it!" he was taking the anger and frustration he felt inside himself out on you. "What are you waiting for? Your mouth practically begs me to ruin your throat with my cock everytime you smile in that stupid way."

You stumbled forward, your body moving without thinking and did as he asked. "You just keep those annoying, pretty eyes on me."

Again, you did as you were told. You pumped your hand on his cock once you took it out of his shorts. He groaned when you swirled your tongue around the tip. Taking hold of your fine hair, the color that bewitched him so suddenly, he curled the ends around his fingers a few times, before gripping it tightly.

He thrust harshly into your mouth, making you gag before you started breathing through your nose. "Archons, you are really proving that you are a slut for me. I think deep down, I always knew," he panted quietly as your throat convulsed around his cock.

You tasted precum in the back of your throat. You mewled, never once breaking the tight suction of your mouth on his cock while you sucked, flattening your tongue against the veins that bulged to the surface.

"Fuck you are good at this," he hissed, moving your head to bob as you greedily sucked. "I should've ordered you on your knees a long time ago." When he felt himself about to fill your throat, he pressed your mouth all the way down on his cock. "Now drool and deep throat me like your depends on it. It's not like you haven't thought about doing this since we first met."

He held your head in place as he cummed. You coughed, drool spilling from your mouth onto his thighs as you swallowed, your fingers pawing against his shorts. He yanked you to your feet. Your eyes were hazy with adoration only for him.

"Get up and wipe your mouth. Let's go, it's cold out here and I'm not finished with you yet."

a/n: Whew. Goodnight, everyone. I'm sorry if this was too much. Scaramouche really brings out the absolute worst of me.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader

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quietlyimplode · 6 months

Text

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 22 - Watch Out

Warnings: words said in anger, grief, depression

Word Count: 1.6k (gif not mine)

Summary: Clint recovers from the fallout of the Avengers.

A/N: <3

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

2012

NEW YORK

“Get up,” Natasha tells him, the level of despondency irritating her.

She hasn’t left him alone, and whilst she understands this depression, she can’t understand the lack of self preservation that comes with it.

He hasn’t eaten, drunk water only when she’s told him too, and barely got out of bed.

He raises his head and looks at her in a pout.

“Not today,” he says, his voice crackling.

“Today is the day we meet with Fury,” she replies, pointing to the calendar.

“No,” he sighs, “go without me,”

She rips the sheets off him, and pushes a coffee into his hands.

“There’s no, “go without me”, not for this, this is Fury giving you grace, and now you have to deal with the mindfuck that was Loki.”

Clint looks at her betrayed.

“Don’t say his name,” he says angrily.

“Why? It shouldn’t matter, he’s done, he’s gone, we won, we didn’t die.”

“Yeah cause that’s exactly how you responded when you killed Dreykov,” he retorts, meanly.

“What?”

The words feel scathing and Clint can’t seem to stop them.

“Don’t you remember? You couldn’t even make it out of Budapest, you had the nightmares, you couldn’t function without help either.”

“You dissociate and can’t cope and I take it on, but when it turns the other way and I need time to not be in the world, you force it on me.”

He feels his face grow hot as he throws words at her.

“You were compromised, just like I am, and I protected you through it, and now, you can’t even do this. Some partner you turned out to be.”

He pulls the covers over himself and turns his back on her.

She feels anger, and then sadness roll over her.

“Phil would tell you to get up,” she says, a parting shot that makes him feel like shit.

He’s right of course, but she never thought that period of time would ever be used against her as a weapon.

Grabbing her jacket, she leaves, slamming the door behind her.

Entering Shield by herself, she feels eyes watching. They can’t kill her with looks, but the judgement still feels hurtful. Much like when she first defected the label of double agent plagued her.

Small hurts like changing the temperature of her room, stalking her, taunting her, all protected by Clint and Maria.

It makes Clint’s words hurt all the more.

She seeks Maria, knowing she’ll be close to Fury, and finding her way to the offices of Shield, hoping for privacy.

As she passes the empty office of Agent Phil Coulson, she pauses to touch the door.

Grief floods her, as she hold back the emotion, biting hard on her lip. The arrays of bouquets that line the door makes everything more real.

She hates him a little for making her face this alone, despite the difficulties he’s facing.

Natasha moves forward, hoping Maria is actually in her office, and finding the door slightly open.

Maria looks up.

“Nat,” she says, a tone of surprise.

“Where’s Clint? He has a meeting with Fury in twenty minutes,” she says quickly.

“Can I…” she sighs and stops.

“Clint’s not coming, I can’t get him out of bed, let alone out of the apartment,” she confesses.

Maria stops and watches Natasha.

“What?”

She calls through to Fury and cancels the meeting, and tells him she’s going to handle the debrief; then grabbing her jacket, she ushers Natasha out of the room.

“Come on,” she says, to Natasha. “Let’s go see the boy.”

“He said what?”

Maria breaks hard, almost rear ending the car in front.

“Nothing,” Natasha mumbles.

“Nat, that’s mean, he was mean, he has no right to judge you on how you reacted from defecting from your country, killing a man who tortured you and your coping mechanisms.”

Natasha stares out the window.

“I’m judging him on how he’s coping, and how long it’s taking him to reach equilibrium,” she sighs.

“You can reason this out all you want but what he said was mean, you didn’t do anything wrong and probably, you’re one that’s been protecting him from almost everything. You even took on Fury to negotiate more time. Nat, he shouldn’t have said what he said.”

Natasha continues to stare out the window, feeling emotions pulse through her as she knows that Maria is right.

“I don’t think I want to go back,” she confesses, sucking in a stuttering breath at the admission.

Selfishly she feels, she makes a decision based on what she wants and how she feels; not wanting to face Clint or his anger again.

Maria nods.

“I’ll go, I’ve got him for a bit, is there somewhere you want to go?”

Natasha wants to be alone.

“Just drop me at Grand Central Station,” she asks, knowing exactly where she wants to go.

Natasha loves the view from the Grand Central Station, finds it calming to watch the people milling around from tourist to regular New Yorkers.

Even aliens could stop this place, though the marks of damage still show.

They’d tried, she thinks, to fix what they could.

She finds a seat, opens her sandwich and sits and eats, letting the noises wash over her.

She analyses the old man’s gait, determining a hip injury, an old one it seems, then turns her attention to a young woman; stylish in her heels as she stalks across the station.

Two men clasp hands in greeting and walk off together, one animatedly talking to the other as he explained something Natasha couldn’t hear.

Natasha puts in headphones, no music attached, and watches the world.

It feels different here; maybe because so much has happened but still the place functions as though it hasn’t.

Maybe that’s her downfall.

She’s trying to function with Clint as though nothing has happened, trying to make him move past it like it never happened.

But it has.

People died at Clint’s hand.

Phil died trying to protect them all.

Clint lost control of himself.

And, she supposed, they were Avengers now.

Even their jobs had changed in the space of hours.

She sighs, rubbing her eyes in frustration and grief.

The clock alerts her to the later hour as the amount of people dwindles. Past 6pm, she realises that she’d left Clint with Maria for over 10 hours and guilt builds in her chest.

She stands abruptly, making her way for the door.

“Watch out!” the lady calls, her son barreling straight into Natasha’s leg.

He bounces off her and starts to cry.

Natasha squats and looks at the little boy, offering her hand to help him up.

The mother catches up to him and apologizes profusely.

“He moves with such haste, and never watches where he’s going.”

Natasha smiles, though watery she pulls herself together to wave it off.

The boy, still crying turns to his mother.

“Can I show you something?

She uses Clint’s favourite trick and pulls a coin from his ear, and in doing so, it gives her an idea.

The little boy stops crying, and she does it again.

Even the mother is smiling.

“Thank you—“ the woman starts, “wait— are you? Are you the Black Widow?”

The words and the name feel jarring out of the woman’s mouth, and the little boys eyes go wide.

“Do you know Iron Man?” he asks.

The woman shushes him, and grabs for Natasha’s hand.

“Thank you,” she says, “my brother was on the bus that Hawkeye saved and got the people out of.”

Natasha nods.

“I’ll let him know,” she smiles.

Moving away, Natasha pushes down the anxiety of being recognised and heads home, with an idea and a story to tell Clint.

The takeaway sits on the bench, as she moves into the apartment, nervous if there’s any more vitriol she’s going to walk into.

Finding him showered, clothes changed and sitting upright, Clint stands as she walks in.

“I’m sorry,” he opens.

“I shouldn’t have said the things I did, and I don’t know why I did,” he confesses.

“I’m aware I haven’t… been at my best, but the last few months have been hard. I know it’s no excuse, I know, I need to do better but—“

“It’s hard,” Natasha finishes.

“Yeah,” he finishes.

She nods.

“Come and eat something,” she offers, and walking back out to the kitchen, and pulling the food out of the bag.

“I think you’re doing better,” she comments, “but I think we need a project. Do you remember when you taught me the coin magic trick? I think we need to learn something new.”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t…”

She nods, “I’m going to teach you some Russian. Better Russian.”

He almost chokes on his food.

“It’s going to help,” she says confidently.

“Maria’s mandated therapy weekly,” he confesses.

“I know, she told me,” Natasha replies.

“I have to go in tomorrow,” he tells her, playing with the food.

“Do you want me to come?”

Natasha still feels the sting of the words from the morning but seeing him trying so hard when the day before he’d done nothing, lessens the hurt a little.

He nods.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” he says again.

“Vsyo v poryadke,” she replies.

He stares.

“Everything is in order, it is okay,” she reassured him, even though she’s not sure, even if she’s worried about the future, even about the hurt he can cause her and just how compromised she is by this relationship.

He drops his chopsticks and moves to her seat.

“Ya tyebya lyublyu,” he says softly.

“I love you too,” she replies.

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chrstnbale · 2 years

Photo

Equilibrium (2002, dir. Kurt Wimmer)

#equilibrium #christian bale #emily watson #filmedit #eq*#mine

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chloefraazers · 2 months

Text

equilibrium .

aka catharsis.

new chapter update!

#horizon forbidden west #hfw fanfic #fic: equilibrium #mine*writing #talanah x aloy x nil

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immaculate-benediction-batch · 11 months

Text

Infatuation

Early in the morning I can't sleep

I can't work and I can't eat

I've been drunk all day, can't concentrate

Maybe I'm making a big mistake

Caught me down like a killer shark

It's like a railroad running right through my heart

Jekyll and Hyde the way I behave

Feel like I'm running on an empty gauge

Oh no not again

It hurts so good

I don't understand

Infatuation

Heart beats silly like a big bass drum

Losing all equilibrium

It's so hard in the middle of the week

Maybe this man's just all I need

Oh no not again

It hurts so good

I don't understand

Infatuation

'Fatuate me baby

Spirits soar when I'm by his side

He put a little love in this heart of mine

Maybe I'm lucky, maybe I'm freed

Maybe this man's just all I need

Oh no not again

It hurts so good

I don't understand

Infatuation

#sherlock #john watson #infatuation

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eldritchamy · 8 months

Note

fine fine FINE ill sign. what the hell is uneiverse about? one moment youre talking gay vampires killing mob bosses and the next youre talking tiers of angels/deities going so high our universe is imperceptible. i have no idea how these combine but im so curious as to how

Pleasure doing business with you, I'll take good care of that soul. Now that you've paid a fair price, let's live up to my end of the bargain, shall we?

"The Uneiverse" isn't really about anything, it's just a setting. The term is derived from the fact that the story I want to write primarily takes place on a world called Une. And Une exists in a multiverse a lot like a cross between DND's Cosmic Wheel and MTG's endless planes in the Blind Eternities. Think a layered multiverse (like the "Outer Planes" in DND which consist of the various celestial and fiendish planes, and others, and the "Inner Planes" consisting of the Feywild and the Shadowfell and the Prime Material plane. Imagine a system like this but based on something closer to MTG's color pie instead of the Alignment Chart), except instead of having only ONE Prime Material Plane, there are endless realms existing on the same LAYER of the universe that would be considered Prime Material Planes (the "Inner Realms" if you've seen me mention it in tags).

The TL;DR is that the multiverse exists in layers as the elements of creation were divided into smaller and more complicated pieces, which interact and intersect and recombine into much more complicated things. There are levels of existence (at the level of the Cosmic Progenitors and up) for which matter and physicality aren't really a thing anymore, but what you would think of as the physical, material existence of the multiverse begins with the Prime Spheres. These are the pure elements, the most basic ingredients of creation. There are currently SIX Prime Spheres (I'm strongly considering making it eight), each with both an element and an aspect, and each with an Outer God tied to its nature. These elements exist as opposite pairs (currently 3 sets, but I'd like to make it 4).

I won't give you the names of the Spheres (even though they're really cool, just with the ever-growing threat of AI data mining, I'd rather not put the names out there to get scraped), but I can give you the color pairs:

White is Sky/Air/Heaven and Order Blue is Water/the Abyss and Equilibrium/Flow Black is Shadow and Death* Null (represented as purple) is Vacuum and Entropy Red is Fire and Passion/Will Green is Earth and Life

The opposite pairs are White/Null, Blue/Red, Black/Green

*A while back in some tags, maybe the first post I ever tagged as Uneiverse-related, I think I mentioned the goddess aligned to Black, and how she feels that thinking of her as the "god of death" is a crude and small way of putting it, almost bordering on insult from how limited a perspective it is. Eternity thinks of herself as the veil between what is known and what is lost, the moment of transition between life and renewal, the thing you most fear but can least run from, the god of all things ever known and every secret taken to the grave, the infinite night that exists in the blink of an eye, the process of transition and "recycling" one stage of existence into another, she is every soul at the moment between what it was and what it will become, she is all things lost and what all things are destined to find, etc etc. My colors are not a perfect translation of what the colors represent in MTG. My version of black is more like what MTG would think of as Blue/Black multicolor.

Also, none of the elements are "evil" or malevolent. They just exist. If creation is pure light, the Prime Spheres are the distinct colors you would see when it's separated by a prism. They have no moral value to them. They are simply the ingredients of existence.

But anyway, I needed a shorthand term for that multiverse, and so I named it the Uneiverse. Seemed fitting.

But now to answer your question properly...

The STORY arises from a single concept of two characters that I came up with way back in like 2017. The initial concept was little more than a vibe: a warlock and a druid, or black magic and green magic witches, who live together in a little cottage that combines their magical styles. They had sentient, literal "spider plants" as an eco-friendly alternative to pesticides, paperweights that look like skulls with glowing eyes, etc. They each had a cat familiar: one a ghostly, spectral black shadow cat and the other quite possibly a cat shaped clump of sentient moss. The cats recently had kittens that sprouted mushrooms and gave off luminous spores when they purr or bounce around the house causing mischief. Outside the glamour that hides their cottage they keep something like a chia pet that's shaped like a skull, as an inside joke.

I called these characters Doom and Bloom.

Years later, I ended up joining my first DND campaign (still ongoing), and adapted these characters for it. So Doom and Bloom became Ash and Aria. I play Ash as a shadow-themed subclass ("Nightshade") of the Witch class I homebrewed for 5e. Aria Vernus is her wife, a Woodborn witch.

Here's where shit gets fucky.

In my ceaseless hunger to worldbuild harder, I spent the weeks in the lead up to our first session crafting myself a backstory for Ash. It ended up being like 12,000 words and Ash wasn't even born yet. If that's any indication of how the rest of this went. I had basically created a backstory for her MOTHER, Lailah.

I can give you the DND version of it as a summary.

Lailah was a Monadic Deva in Elysium. They are the strongest angels physically, and the most attuned to the neutral aspect of the Good alignments: they won't knowingly deal with Evil beings, but they are the most likely to peacefully interact with Neutral ones. Thirty years ago, there was a war in the Outer Planes and the Nine Hells were attacking the heavens. Lailah was an IMMENSELY powerful divine warrior (mechanically, she's a CR 10ish creature with at least 16 class levels in Zealot Barbarian and 2 in Fighter, and she has a custom Artifact level weapon so she's ABSURD) who laid waste to the Hells' forces. Until one day she found a succubus hiding in Elysium, and was about to kill her but realized the succubus made no move to fight back. This got her curious. The succubus explained that she wanted no part of the war, she only used the chaos surrounding it to make her escape from the violence and backstabbing and politics of the hells, and just wanted to get away from the conflict. Lailah was unable to kill a being she could see was not evil, and instead she listened and began to sympathize. What are now succubi used to be angels themselves, called Eros, and were made to bring love to mortals. But you cannot touch a life without it touching you back. And the gods felt that the touch of mortals had changed the Eros from what they were created to be, and they became beings ruled by passion rather than order, so they were cast out from the heavens and became Succubi.

You can see how quickly I started diverging from DND lore into building my own mythology for everything.

Anyway, Lailah and the succubus became briefly entangled, and the more Lailah learned about the succubus' past, the more it troubled her that it sounded like she had been wronged. The Eros were created for a purpose, and then punished for carrying it out. And in the moment Lailah began to wonder if it was the gods themselves who were wrong, she was burned herself and fell from Elysium. She was cast out and landed in Malbolge as an Erinyes. There she met another Erinyes who had been waiting for her. A former Movanic Deva from Arborea who had the gift of second sight (and I have a LOT of mythology developed around the nature of time and fate and the relationship between potential and possibility and branching timelines because of this character) and knew she had to fall herself in order to help Lailah raise her daughter.

Surprise! Lailah's pregnant. So Lailah spent the next ~4 years with this other fallen angel in the Nine Hells, where her little ember of hope in the darkness was born, and she named the ember Ash.

Eventually Lailah and Ash were able to leave, and they ended up in a wild, untamed forest in a forgotten corner of Ravnica. Ash grew up in the woods where she met another little tiefling from the druid village nearby, and they became best friends. So Ash and Aria have known each other their whole lives.

For reasons I left open to my DM, Lailah went missing when Ash was 15. She and Aria couldn't get help from the druids and made their own plans to go to the city on their own, and they ended up making a home there. Ash became a leather worker and Aria primarily works in animal rehab. They live in a big tree that Aria grew herself into a living home, with their two familiars (Hades and Persephone), their familiars' kittens, and a rotating cast of animals. Hannah the Possum has become an infamous side character in campaign for sneaking away from her babies to steal peanut butter and other treats from the cupboards.

Anyway, the campaign itself involves our characters joining a transguild organization that helps mediate inter-guild conflicts on Ravnica and work as ambassadors to visitors from other planes, because in our version of Ravnica a lot of permanent planar portals have been opening up in recent times (we're about 5 years after the War of the Spark in the MTG timeline, which is INCREDIBLE because it means our DM accidentally predicted the Omenpaths in the post-March of the Machines story several years in advance, and that's FAR from the only time she's been ahead of Magic Story). We're also dealing with the fact that the players have started sparking, because it turns out we're all (except possibly Ash) Planeswalkers. Ash, being a full blooded magical creature descended from two fallen angels from the Outer Planes, may have an innate inherited ability to traverse planes without a spark, but that remains to be discovered in game.

As part of writing Ash's backstory, I created additional backstory for Aria. She was part of her own adventuring party 5-6 years ago, and her group became widely known, feared, and respected for handling jobs beyond the ability of most adventuring groups. And I basically backstoried a whole other campaign into existence, culminating in that group actually taking part in the War of the Spark by fighting Bontu, one of the god eternals. I could spend another 6,000 words on a play by play but the tl;dr is that my tieflings are polyamorous and Aria was in a relationship with a newly sparked Planeswalker at the time, and she watched that partner die in front of her when Bontu harvested her spark. Aria went into a blind rage, used Shapechange to turn herself into a gold dragon, and then had a kaiju battle with a zombie god while the rest of her team scrambled to keep her, and themselves, alive. Fen (Arcana cleric) came up with the idea to pin Bontu down with Immovable rods, and the two martial classes in the party had to get close to help do it. One of those was Cass, a dhampir soulknife rogue/shadow monk who was born on Fiora but made her way to Ravnica by way of Dominaria sometime before The Great Mending made planar travel inaccessible to non-planeswalkers. Cass had to bite Bontu for a boost of strength (because she's Dex based), but in the chaos Bontu also managed to grab HER, which created an unusual feedback loop where the Elderspell tried to pull the soul out of her body, but since she was resurrected by extraordinarily powerful necromancy (which is how she became a vampire, after she was murdered on the night of her arranged wedding), her soul is a bit more stuck to her body than most, so by feeding on Bontu's blood, she actually managed to survive long enough for Aria to make Bontu let go, leaving Cass with a "dislocated" soul and, in the process of siphoning Bontu's essence, she accidentally acquired one of the stolen sparks (most likely that of Aria's lover). Because the Immortal Sun was on at the time, and her soul was not quite right, that spark didn't activate until a week or so later.

AAAAAAAAAAANYWAY, I'm obsessed with vampires so obviously Cass was my favorite character that I made for Aria's backstory party, so I ended up giving Cass her own backstory, wherein she was born to a failing mob family as the only one who could produce an heir, but she was too gay and moody (and psionic) to be okay with that, so her father plotted with the father of her arranged husband to have her killed. Her maidservant (who she was in love with), Gisella Bathori, overheard them laughing about it on the night of the wedding and tried to save her, but was fatally stabbed in the process. Ella used her dying breath to carve a sigil into the floor - a very powerful sigil based in the magic of creation itself, which rearranges the energy of the Prime Spheres into intent, and with a little blood (okay a LOT of blood, much of it her own), she begged the universe to "not let Cassandra die". So Cass wakes up in the back of a truck before her killers can dump her body, and long story short she kills a guy, goes home and finds Ella's body, fails to understand how the sigil worked, and then kills all of the people who just got to her house (the other two men who helped kill her plus a lawmaster and finally her father) before cleaning herself up, taking some essentials and valuables, kicking one of the bodies for good measure, and running away forever. She spends the next few days hunting down the rest of both families before escaping the city and finding her way to Dominaria (and ultimately Ravnica).

So Cass is my backstory character's backstory character. And I LOVE her. Also, when Cass kicked that last body? she shuffled some blood around and triggered the sigil again without knowing it. So unbeknownst to her, Ella ALSO got raised as a vampire. And she didn't find out about it until her spark activated 122 years later and she ended up back on Fiora.

SO.

Obviously. I backstoried pretty fucking hard. And got really attached to these characters. And what basically happened is I started developing this alternate version of my characters' story that ran parallel to (but significantly diverged from) the campaign. So I had this running in my head for a while and was calling it "story mode" for like "this is how these characters and their stories would work if they existed ENTIRELY inside my own mythology and worldbuilding instead of playing within the mechanics and narrative structure of a DND campaign" and eventually that started spinning faster and faster until it developed its own magnetosphere and became a whole world. And then a multiverse for that world to fit in.

Lailah in Story Mode was not a Deva, she was a Brachiel: an angel of storm and lightning, which falls under the "Emanations" (middle) tier in my angelology (as did the Eros). Eternity may address Ash as a "Daughter of Emanations". And while Ash might come off as having a little bit of a "half angel half devil" vibe at first, strictly speaking what she actually is is a BORN fallen angel, a being caught somewhere between two Prime elements, and ends up self-actualizing as a secret, third thing, because nothing born can live forever and while she is biologically pure fallen angel, she was not CREATED through divine means as angels were, she was born as a mortal. She's a little bit complicated because she looks like one thing (the equivalent of a tiefling) but that's not really what she is, and what she really is is a lot harder to explain in a neat and digestible way. Which is why I've said in tags that she kinda comes off as baby's first OC if you only know the elevator pitch (her parents were an angel and a succubus) but the reality is a lot more complicated in a much more interesting way that's not super easy to explain unless you're telling it to a person who already wants to listen.

So now I have a whole story in my head about a woman who just wants to find her mom, but she's caught up in this grand threat to the multiverse itself, when all she wants is a nice quiet life with her family but she lives in a world where the veil between the realms only thinned recently, and the magical "races" are all humans who were variably affected by the energies of different worlds, and some are viewed less favorably than others (the aasimar equivalent are sometimes called "blessings" because their parents view it as such to have a child influenced by the divine, while the tiefling equivalent are seen as about what you'd expect, etc). So there's vibes of marginalization and surviving in a world that isn't super thrilled that you exist, and mommy issues, and a theocratic government that's not great and is secretly using the power of faith to try to turn the head of state into a god, and all the while my poor beleaguered angel's bastard has to cope with the fact that a god on a level her tiny electric meatball consciousness cannot BEGIN to comprehend just asked her for help, (because, in her words, "𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔠𝔢𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔰 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔫 𝔡𝔬; 𝔴𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔦𝔭𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔳𝔢") and now she's stuck working with a handful of other people who were ALSO assigned to this task, and all of it sucks but at least her long-suffering wife is there to kick some ass while she pretends her own trauma isn't destroying her from the inside.

(To get more technical, There's A Big Problem™ and while the Outer Gods have orders of magnitude more power than they'd need to fix it, souls are concentrated areas of the Potential of Creation and have a kind of WEIGHT to them, metaphysically, that influences the world around them (which is how magic works), and a fragment of creation as "large" as an Outer God would effectively alter reality around itself on such an enormous scale, almost like gravitational lensing, that for them to interfere in our layer of the multiverse that directly would essentially reorder existence around their presence to a degree that they deem unacceptable. So between not having a great perspective of what the problem is DOING to our layer and not being able to really ENTER the layer of existence where the problem needs to be solved, they need a solution that can operate on the correct scale to restore the balance without causing unfathomable catastrophic collateral damage in the process, and thus, The Gods Need Our Help™. And the characters have to figure out how to deal with this while navigating their own problems in a world that's got its own human sized bullshit going on. THAT is the story I want to write. Cass might have her own story as a book 2. Empath, a story I used to tag about sometimes and involves a spaceship I invented the concept for based on real math that allows it to only exist outside of itself, would be book 3.)

Two of the other ensemble cast are heavily adapted from characters from the campaign, one a pretty direct translation of a PC and the other a cross between another PC and an NPC, both of whom have awkward crushes on the aforementioned PC, and the NPC in particular gives off the most intense friends to enemies to friends to lovers yearning vibes I have ever seen in my fucking LIFE, and the new character I've spawned out of those two is going to be sort of like a siren with synesthesia, so bask in the flavor of THAT concept for a hot minute. If you even care.

Basically there's going to be a "main character" for each of the colors in the cosmogony, and that will be important in ways you don't need to think about right now.

Hey did you know that wizards suck, actually?

So anyway the Uneiverse is basically a multiverse in which the Prime Spheres represent the basic elements of creation, and from them the Composite Spheres were created, each a combination of two (or more? currently I only have the two-color combinations named) of those elements, and as creation divides and recycles itself in a grand eternal process of revision and recombination, you have the Inner Spheres which make up the multiverse as MTG imagines it: an infinite cosmos of varied realms, made of all the elements in minutely different quantities and combinations.

And in one of those realms sits a hectic little world called Une, where a lot of things get weird and a scared little girl just wishes her mom was here to make it all better.

#Uneiverse #Ash #Aria #Cass #Lailah #eldritch OCs #Was this the answer you were hoping for? I'd hate to have taken that soul for nothing.#also enjoy that Eternity quote that's one of many insane things that she says. the scene with her is gonna be WILD.#I've been told I write from the perspective of a god *weirdly* well #also. *technically* the gif is not a lie. enjoy that thought.

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