#it’s high key v canon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toxicanonymity · 4 months

Text

the narrative.

4.7k, darkish!Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

"Control the narrative. You probably say that when you cum." - Roman Roy, Succession, s1 e1. PREMISE: Javi is in the middle of a publicity disaster due to his illegal activities and big mouth. Enter you (and he will). Penthouse vibe and attire inspired by Justified City Primeval. WARNINGS: I8+ ONE SHOT, dark(ish?) Javi, canon-typical lack of realism, drug references, gratuitous bulge, alcohol, praise, mention of someone sucking Javi's dick in the past, unprofessional behavior, power dynamics, pressure, DUBCON unsafe p in v (etc.), mild gun play, romance. A/N: Dedicated to @noxturnalpascal 🖤 Never thought I'd start the year with this guy, but thots happened. I only have one other Javi G. fic.

When you show up to Javi's home in the Hollywood hills, you're mildly surprised the car is stopping. It looks like any other skyrise. It's not his main residence, but he has the whole top floor to himself. You’ve refreshed yourself on the task during the ride – Javi Gutierrez is a PR nightmare lately, and he needs to be reminded how to handle press, especially questions about his recent run-ins with the law and ties to his family business. You'll run through a few practice questions with him, refresh him on the way to his event, and say goodbye. It should be simple.

On your way into Javi’s building, the concierge greets you, then makes polite conversation as he escorts you to the penthouse.

"Mr. Gutierrez already has company," he mentions as he uses a key card then holds the door open for you.

You step into Javi’s apartment and the door closes behind you. It feels intrusive, just showing up in his personal space without someone to introduce you. It's quiet for a moment, and you take in the opulence -- the sky high ceilings, the glittery floor sparkling under your modest wedge heels. You adjust your little black dress and fix your hair, then stand and wait with your bag.

You take a deep, calming breath. At least this isn’t a celebrity you have a crush on. He isn’t necessarily your type. He seems like such a teddy bear. He’ll be cool. He’s down to earth, you tell yourself, but can’t think of any evidence to support that claim. What kind of company does he have, you wonder. Is it a woman?

"One more, one more," Javi begs out of view, and your breath hitches at his voice. It's not the pitch or measured cadence you hear in the movies or even interviews. It's deep, gruff, and unpolished. "One more, Nick."

Your heart jumps at the name.

Nick sighs. "Alright, what are we drinking to?"

"Balas y drogas," Javi booms. (Bullets and drugs). "Brindemos" (cheers).

"As always," Nick monotones, and you hear their glasses clink. A few seconds later, boots begin to click and echo, and they're coming in your direction.

Entranced by the sparkle of the floor, you see a pair of snakeskin boots cross in front of you first. The boots pause, and your gaze pans up over his unexpectedly bare legs, which are muscular and only slightly hairy. Your eyes continue up over the swell of his thighs, and then–by the time you see it, it’s too late not to look right at it--a generous bulge under a blue striped swimsuit. You yank your eyes upward so fast, you almost don't see the gold pistol he’s holding at his side. Javi raises an empty highball glass, gestures it toward you, and you're studying the rings his hand when he complains, "You are early." He taps a ring on the glass and looks around behind you. “They sent you alone?”

“Yes, Mr. Gutierrez.” You introduce yourself. When you speak, he holds surprisingly warm eye contact, given his opening line. It feels like he’s really seeing you, maybe even connecting with you.

“Please, call me Javi.” He walks around the counter and makes no effort to close his silk robe, trailing behind him. "Make yourself a drink," he nods toward a wet bar behind him as he puts his glass in the sink. His curls are a mess, but he doesn't look bad. His strong chest glistens under his gold chain. "Make Nick something, too. NICK--"

"I'm right here, Javi. I really have to go." Nick greets you with an unenthused nod, "Hi,” then his phone rings and he quickly bids farewell to Javi: "I'll see ya later bud." Nick slowly staggers toward the door as he answers the phone.

As the door closes behind Nick, Javi watches your face. "He has a key, you know. He'll be back," then he again urges you toward the wet bar, slightly more politely this time. "Please, help yourself. Why did they send you so early?"

"I'm an hour late," you tell him. His security team stalled you because he wasn’t ready.

He looks at his gold watch. "Mierda" (Shit). He meets your gaze again with apologetic eyes. "An hour late. . . maybe I do like you. . ." The third time he refers you to the bar, you go around the counter and at least browse his liquor selection.

A few minutes later, you're mindlessly reading the liquor bottles when you see a reflection in a bottle of mezcal. Something moves behind you.

"Tequila," Javi murmurs a few inches from your ear. “If you cannot decide.” You stiffen but manage not to jump, or so you think. "Relax, mamacita.” A large, warm hand comes to your bare shoulder, making your chest get hot. Javi’s lips brush the shell of your ear. “Relax,” he repeats. “It is only Javi.” He smells faintly of pipe or hookah smoke.

He lingers for a moment, smells your hair, then his hand trails down your bicep, and butterflies rush through your body so fast you have to step away. He looks only slightly bemused. He checks you out even more obviously this time, then silently walks backwards through the kitchen, and you forget not to stare. You follow the way the light highlights his little belly. His happy trail leads you right to the slight swing and jiggle of the massive lump precariously contained by that swimsuit. How much of it is balls, you wonder. And at that moment, he reaches down to adjust himself before turning around and heading to his bedroom.

Your face is on fire, and you’re tingling down South. You pour yourself a drink. You need one. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer quite a view of the city. It feels like Javi is taking a long time. In the distance, he begins to sing. You didn’t expect to be attracted to him, but now you have this feeling in your chest, like you’re waiting for a date with someone you like. Someone you’re still getting to know. You try to brush it off and not read too much into the look in his eyes. He’s an actor. He probably knows how to make people feel special, you remind yourself, but you can’t help but feel a little giddy as you wait.

You take a seat on his velvet sectional. You sip your drink and begin to feel more confident. When you go to put your drink down on the nearest coffee table, there isn't much space amid the array of empty bottles and glasses, and a hookah. You set your drink on a silver tray, and only then do you realize you've disrupted the geometric residue of tiny white lines. “Shit,” you whisper.

While Javi gets ready, you read some of his past quotes to the press. It messes with your head. Sure, he was rude to you at first, but then so warm. There’s one particular quote you’re stuck on. It isn’t too hard to imagine him saying something like this. You catch yourself feeling sad about it, not because it was so rude of him, but because of the insinuation of him with another woman. In your mind, you know this feeling is irrational after having only interacted with Javi for only a moment. You have to compose yourself into professional mode again.

—-

Javi returns freshly showered, wearing slacks and a patterned, long-sleeve, button-up shirt that hugs his biceps. He checks you out as he fastens his last cuff link. Then he sucks in his stomach and tucks in his shirt by shoving his hands all the way into his pants. He keeps eye contact with you as he tucks in the front, and finishes it off with a subtle cup of his balls. Then he stands normally again, and the curve of his little belly presses against the shirt above his pants. He doesn't put on a belt. He gestures for you to walk in front of him.

Javi stays close on the way downstairs. On the elevator, you can feel his breath on your cheek. When the doors open, his hand on your back ushers you out. The soft padding of his stomach grazes your arm.

—-

Back outside Javi’s apartment, the car you arrived in – the one that picked you up at the Dobis PR office – is gone. You’ll ride in Javi’s car. His security team wants to accompany the two of you in the vehicle, and it’s clear they normally ride with Javi. But Javi convinces them to follow in another car this time. Just this once. You get into a black Mercedes sprinter outfitted with a raised roof, big leather bench seat, and a bar.

As you settle into the van, Javi is making sure you’re comfortable, making small talk, and you just want to chat with him, but you do have a job to do. He’s sitting in the corner of the bench in the very back of the van, and you’re next to him, with your body mostly facing him. You begin to broach the topic at hand, distracted by his closeness and the aftershave molecules wafting into your nostrils. “Okay Javi, so, I’m familiar with your, uh, difficulties with law enforcement recently, and my role here is to kinda help you help yourself with that in the press.”

He nods.

“So let’s start where we are. Do you remember what you said when Page Six asked for a comment?”

He briefly leans in the opposite direction from you to open the minifridge. He pulls out a bottle of champagne. “Page Six, remind me which one is that.”

Is he going to make you say it? Fine. “You don't remember telling the writer her lips were made to suck your dick?”

“That was out of context,” he mutters. You search his face for whether it‘s a joke, but he’s not laughing, and he’s not meeting your eyes.

You ask, “Is there a context where that’s a good comment to make?” And you hope it lands softer than it sounds to your own ears.

“Yes,” Javi nods and brushes a curl out of his forehead. He shifts in the seat and wrings his hand around the neck of the champagne bottle in his lap. “With a cock in her mouth.” Hearing the word cock in his voice gives you a zing of arousal.

You’re at a loss for words. “Are you saying you weren't answering a question when you said that?”

“The conversation was over,” Javi nods.

“--And she had your–”

“My cock, yes,” he confirms. “In her mouth.” He reads your face, then shrugs. “She wanted a taste of Javi, and I am afraid I could not resist.” Your mind is going places - How did that happen, you wonder. Did she just drop to her knees? Does it happen all the time? Could you have a taste of Javi? Do you want one? No, you don’t want to be just another girl.

You and Javi look at each other for a moment, neither of you completely focused, then you say the only thing you can think to say, “Fair enough,” as you close your folio. Then you can’t help but add, “Optimally, it's not the best idea to sleep with. . . certain people . . .who can make you look bad.” The thought falls apart as you watch his face, and you wonder if you're overstepping.

“It was only a mouth,” Javi clarifies, then lowers his voice. “I would never make the love to her.”

Now his eyes are fixed on your lips. His mind is going places. You watch him salivate over the shape of your mouth and don’t dare to interrupt his filthy train of thought. But that bulge in his swim trunks is seared in your mind. The subtle way it moved with each step. You have to stare at anything else to keep your eyes off his pants. You look at the bits of silver in his beard and the sparkle in his eyes

“Hm?” he asks and you snap out of your trance.

“We need to control the narrative,” you mumble, as if you're thinking about work.

“I don’t have a narrative, I have the truth. And the truth is too dangerous, mami.” He extends an arm behind you.

The intrigue shakes you from your dirty thoughts. You shouldn’t pry, so you try not to, but having heard his explanation for the Page Six comment, you’re wondering if there really is a good explanation for how he got caught riding dirty with both narcotics and unregistered weapons.

He scoots closer, so he’s mostly on your bench rather than in the corner, and he extends an arm behind you. “I have to say, you are a smart girl.” He brushes your shoulder with his thumb. “Very pretty, too,” he adds quietly. “And very smart not to ask.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. What else can you say?

He looks you over, and his face hardens in an instant. “You should fire them,” he says. “They put a pretty girl like you in a van with me.” He scoffs. “They don’t respect you, I’m sorry to say.”

What is that supposed to mean? You stare at him blankly, then say, “I can’t fire them, I work for them.”

“Well then you should fire your job. Quit it, the job.” You suppose he’s that out of touch. He probably doesn’t even know how much rent is in LA. Increasingly incredulous, he asks, “They sent you here alone?”

Your mouth feels dry. You nod and try to swallow.

His face softens. “No, please do not be scared,” he tries to recover, cupping your shoulder warmly with his palm. “But they should care more about you. You are precious.”

“Well. . . Thanks, I think I’ll be okay,” you stammer.

Javi chuckles and locks all the doors to the van. Your upper body quickly goes cold as he settles in again next to you, his knee touching yours. How did he even do that?

He smiles darkly. “You felt that, right? In your spine?” His thumb brushes the nape of your neck, then the top of your spine.

You nod, otherwise paralyzed.

“Fire them,” he repeats in a whisper.

You stand up just an inch to smooth your dress, and before you can sit back down, the van lurches out of nowhere. You’re propelled face-first into Javi’s arms. The unopened bottle of champagne rolls away. Your faces are only a few inches apart. His shirt is soft, his body is warm, and you’re breathing his minty breath. The van lurches again and he hugs you into him, protectively.

“I apologize, sir,” the driver announces through a speaker.

You slowly begin to sit up from him. His arms are slow to release you. As you sit up, he lays a hand on your thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I should warn you,” he murmurs. “Traffic is very bad here.”

—--

You sit there with Javi’s arm behind you and his other hand on your thigh, and neither of you speaks. He’s practically enveloping you with his whole body.

“You are thinking about it, right?”

The pitch of his voice and a nod toward your skirt tells you what he’s talking about, and you don’t answer. He takes his hand off your thigh only to adjust himself, and your face heats up.

He sighs. “So, if you are the press, what should I say right now?”

After a loaded beat of silence, you snap out of it and begin to ramble, “Well, I haven't asked you a question, so you don't have to say anything, in fact, unless they ask–”

He reaches for your face. He rests four fingers on the side of your face, then brushes his thumb over your lips. “Shh. I won't say it,” he whispers. “That this press is the most beautiful girl. . .” Your lips part and let his thumb into your mouth, but your tongue pulls back.

“That I need her. . .in a way I cannot explain.” You gasp and look down. He takes his thumb out of your mouth, then his hand drifts to his pants. “That I want to twist her legs around me like a pretzel.” The glint of his rings catches your eye, slowly moving atop his pants. His eyelids are heavy. “I should not say it, right?”

You look at his mouth then meet his eyes again and shake your head no, ever so slightly.

“But I can think it,” he whispers with a nod. “I can feel it,” he nods with a raise of his eyebrows. “Dios mio. . . I can have it.”

He hugs you, slides a hand under your opposite thigh, and swiftly pulls you into straddling him with your knees on the seat and your skirt hanging loosely in his lap. You aren’t wearing stockings, but you’re wearing modest boy shorts. His hips lift up to meet you as he pulls you down with a sigh. His warm package feels even bigger than it looked. He closes his eyes and runs his hands over your back as your loins throb against each other.

He holds your body firmly in place for a few gentle little thrusts that make you gush with each push of his bulge. Then, satisfied that you're not going anywhere, he pulls your face in for a long, steamy kiss, with his rings pressed against your cheek. As he feeds you his tongue, his hips keep moving, slowly pressing himself against you.

He pulls his face away and asks, “Do we have to go to this thing?”

“No,” you say, pleased at this turn of events. He cups your head, and you explain, “Not at all. We wanted you to lay low. But you insisted-”

“I want to lay low with you,” he murmurs against your cheek. “Let me lay with you.” Your insides are throbbing and swelling. His lips and the slightest hint of his teeth drag down your neck while his thick manhood hardens more against the crotch of your boy shorts. “I'll give you more than a taste, Mamacita. We're going to lay together.”

He asks the driver to take you back to his place. Then he latches onto your neck, and you let out a little moan. The van turns around to head back to his place.

“I just need to text the team,” you tell him and get off his lap. You straighten your dress and begin to text your manager. While you're on your phone, he keeps kissing and nibbling at you.

Your manager calls, and you clear your throat. Javi occupies himself by popping open the bottle of champagne. You receive accolades for talking him out of the event.

—--

When you're off the phone, Javi has somewhat composed himself. “Now we have all night.” He hands you a flute of champagne. A voice comes over the intercom saying there's a security matter Mr. Gutierrez needs to be briefed on. The van pulls over and Rafael, Javi’s head of security, joins you.

“Your brother is back,” Rafael tells him. “And he's not happy about what you took.”

“Puta Madre,” Javi grumbles. “You know what he would have done with it.”

“I know,” Rafi nods.

“I have plans tonight, Rafi.” Javi looks at you adoringly. “The most important plans of my life.” He turns back to Rafi. “Do you see this beautiful woman? We have plans.”

“You have to stay with me,” Javi tells you. “I’ll keep you safe.”

When you arrive back at Javi’s place, Rafi insists on escorting the two of you up to the penthouse. The place has already been cleaned up, and a maid is on her way out.

“Thank you, Sandy,” Javi says as she passes by. She nods.

——-

You excuse yourself to freshen up while Javi rants to Rafael. There's a crashing noise and you take your time coming back from the restroom, unsure what awaits.

You come back to the main room and put your bag on a stool at the counter. Rafael is on his way out to stand guard by the door. Javi is sitting on the sofa with his pants off and his shirt unbuttoned, holding his gold pistol against his thigh.

“I asked Rafi to give us some privacy,” Javi says. “We will not let this ruin our night.” He looks at you hungrily. “Come. Sit.” He makes space in his lap and looks down at himself. He’s wearing black boxer briefs.

You straddle him but don't sit yet. His free hand slides up the back of your thigh and he grabs a handful of ass. “You are the most beautiful woman,” he sighs. “And you feel so good in my hands.”

With his other hand, Javi nudges the golden gun under your skirt, and the metal on your bare thigh makes you flinch. “Shhh.” He slowly slides the barrel along your inner thigh where the hem of your underwear is. He slides it lightly back and forth, breathing deeply through his nose. Then, his lips part as he rubs it along the damp crotch of your boy shorts. Your whole body erupts in goosebumps. He watches your face as he rubs you with the barrel of his pistol. He angles it upward each time he reaches your front.

He palms your ass at the same rhythm as he massages you with the gun, as if encouraging you to ride it. Then he holds it still between his legs, pulls you closer against it, and your hips move on their own, seeking more pressure against the barrel. You twitch and gasp and he sucks in a deep breath through his nose. He moves you on the gun and you grind against the barrel until you’re almost at the edge and your thighs are trembling.

“Good girl,” he sighs. He brings the side of the barrel to his nose and sniffs. Then he makes eye contact with you as he presses his lips to the side of the barrel and dips his tongue onto the metal. He kisses the gun goodbye, then puts it aside. “I will keep you safe,” he reassures you again.

Javi takes your hand in his and puts it on the hard bulge and you almost come. He’s so big, and so hard, the seams of his boxer briefs must be ready to burst. He uses your hand to massage himself. At the same time, he grabs the back of your head and pulls you into him for a passionate kiss. Your palm begins to massage his shaft. Feeling the hard shape of him, you can tell how thick he is, and it's more than a handful. Your fingers cradle his balls as you massage the lower part of his shaft. He pulls his underwear down and your skin meets his bare cock.

Both his palms engulf your ass cheeks and he lifts your dress all the way up over your ass so he can see your hips before desperately pulling you fully onto him. He smacks your ass, then kneads it again and licks into your mouth as he grinds up against you.

He gropes your breasts and pulls your dress all the way up, taking it over your head. His hands find your bra clasp, and he frees your breasts, taking one to his mouth right away. He reaches into your smooth, stretchy boy shorts and gasps at the feeling of your bare, dripping cunt. He holds his cock in his hand and brings the tip to the bottom seam of your underwear. He wedges his cock into the garment, resting against your inner thigh, then a little further, and the bare skin of his tip nudging between your slippery folds makes you weak in the knees. He puts his cock all the way into your underwear from the bottom, wet from your slick, and pulls you tight against him. You grind together and his shaft massages your clit. The pressure builds and quickly boils over, and you moan as you begin to pulse against him.

“Oh, my love,” Javi sighs, then moans as you grind and come against his cock in your panties. “Such a pretty sight and sound.”

With pleasure still washing over you, he wraps an arm tight around you, turns and lays you down on your back as your orgasm wanes.

His cock slides out of your underwear as he makes space to finish undressing you both. He tears your underwear down in a frenzy and can't get out of his own soon enough. Within seconds, you're both nude on the sofa in the dimly lit room.

Javi sits on his knees between your legs and pumps himself slowly, belly pushing out, eyes dancing across your body. His cock is so stiff and thick, you can't take your eyes off it. You throb and ache for it. He runs his flattened fingers through your dripping seam and moans at your wetness.

“I cannot wait another moment to feel you, my love.”

Javi gets on top of you, his belly pressing into you as he positions himself then notches at your entrance. His gold chain hangs and grazes your chest. He hikes your leg up and you wrap it around him.

“Good,” he whispers.

Javi shoves into you, punching the air out of your lungs with a brief burn at the stretch. He groans as he fills you with his flesh as fast as your body will allow. “Javi,” you gasp as his girth spreads you apart. His dick twitches at the sound of his name on your lips. He sighs your name and you're almost flattered he knows it, giving you a brief twinge of uncertainty that's quickly replaced by pleasure as he withdraws a few inches then slams into you.

“You are so beautiful,” he pants as he begins to fuck you steadily. He kisses your chest and your neck. “It was fate that you came here to me.”

He moans and grunts as he buries his cock in you. You wrap your other leg around him. His body is solid and soft against yours. So much skin on skin and it all feels right. You feel safe, and you feel adored. The way he looks at you, the way he feels you, moves on you, it’s like he’s been waiting for you forever. He hooks a hand under your shoulder for more leverage, and the force of each punch of his hips jiggles your breasts. He slows down and fucks you more tenderly, but still with power. The movement of his hips is fluid and smooth.

After a few minutes, he moans, “Ohh, my love,” then sighs your name. “I have to give you my cum, I have to give it to you.” You aren’t sure, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything to disrupt this moment. You’ve never had someone make love to you this way. “I’m going to explode,” he warns.

He buries his mouth in the crook of your neck, bottoms out, and groans as he erupts deep in your core, sending you for another climax of your own. Then his lips scramble up your neck and jaw to find your lips and he kisses you passionately as warm bursts of his cum fill you up. “Mmm,” he moans into your mouth as you clench around his cock.

When you’re both finished coming, he stays inside for a moment. “We will be joined again,” he assures you as he pulls out.

He lays half on his side, with a bit of his weight on you for a moment. He strokes your face and admires you tenderly. You excuse yourself to the restroom, and he goes with you, escorting you to his master bath instead of the guest room you used earlier. He shows you his bedroom on the other side and says, “you will stay here with me.”

When you come out of the restroom to Javi’s bed, you approach hesitantly. “Are you sure?” you ask.

“I would not dream of letting you leave,” he assures you.

#javi gutierrez #javi g x you #javi g x reader #pedro pascal characters #cw dubcon #dubcon #javi gutierrez x reader #female reader #pedro pascal x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️#tim and eric #dark!javi gutierrez #dark!javi g

359 notes · View notes

training4theapocalypse · 1 year

Text

And they call me crazy (Adrian Chase x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT, Rough sex, Non-con elements - reader is drunk and a (very eager to fuck) hostage, Light bondage, Oral, P in V, Unprotected sex, Edging, Canon typical mentions of murder and violence

Summary: You're a new intern at Senator Goff's office. It's going great... that is until Vigilante abducts you after you've been out drinking, celebrating the end of your first week. (Based on this ask from anon.)

A/N: I'm fucking impatient as usual and I couldn't wait until Sunday to post this. I've added non-con to the warnings but honestly, reader is so desperate to fuck him she DOESN'T GIVE AF if it's morally questionable that she's a hostage.

Masterlist

Join my tag list: @likeficsinthewnd, @she-wolf09231982, @pretendfan, @lolitstiana, @chiaraanatra

Chapter text:

Your gasp is stifled when a black glove covers your mouth and an arm wraps tight around your body. You stumble on the sidewalk, teetering back in your high heels into your assailant’s body but he holds you firmly upright.

“Don’t scream,” says a man’s muffled whisper in your ear.

Your whole body freezes up. God, you wish you were more sober. Why did you insist on walking home after those celebratory drinks? This is not the perfect ending to the first week of your internship that you’d envisioned. Is this why Senator Goff didn’t turn up for work today? They said he was sick.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you keep quiet and get in the car.”

It’s a man’s voice. Not one you recognise. But you can barely hear it anyway over how loudly your heart is beating in your chest. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, it seems to say, battering frantically against your rib cage.

“Nod if you understand me.”

You jerk your head forward - his tight grip doesn’t make the movement easy.

God, why didn’t you listen to your Mom? She told you earlier to get a cab home and stay safe, you’d just dismissed her advice as usual because you knew best.

He removes his hand and pushes you into the open passenger door of a beat-up old Chrysler Sebring. It all happens so fast that you don’t even think to check out the license plate.

Shit.

The man shuts the passenger door after you and hops into the driver’s seat on the other side.

It’s him.

You’ve seen his masked face on the news, wanted for carrying out his own brand of retributive justice on criminals across Evergreen. You heard people talking about his latest crimes at work today. Hell, you’ve even made stupid memes about having a crush on him in your girlfriend’s group chat.

It’s Vigilante.

You were ready to beg for your life a second ago. But now all you can do is stare. At the forefront of your admittedly inebriated mind is the fact that you’ve fantasised about the masked Vigilante of Evergreen before. But in your fantasies, you’d always been someone that he’d saved from a robbery gone wrong or some other sticky situation. Not his abductee.

And this is no fantasy. He’s here - he’s real. So intimidatingly tangible and human. You can hear his breathing through his mask, see his eyes darting around your dark surroundings checking for passersby, and you can even smell the sharp, fresh scent of his cologne when he gets close to you, reaching behind you to grab a length of rope from the back seat.

“Put your hands out.” You swallow thickly, looking at his masked face. There’s no point in arguing. “If you make any indication to anyone we pass that you’re you’re here against your will, I will kill you.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you think I’ve done but I-”

“Hey - don’t make me gag you and put you in the trunk,” he says, finishing the knot around your wrists as your stomach does a little flip. Not out of fear. Something else. He turns his keys and starts the ignition. “Oooh, seatbelt! Sorry.”

You breathe in as he reaches across you to grab your seatbelt and clip you in. Your hands sit uncomfortably on your lap as the car drives out of the dark street and onto the main road.

He pulls out his cell phone as he drives to wherever you’re going and you hear the other end of the phone ringing in the silent car.

“What is it?” You strain your ears, listening as a woman answers aggressively.

“I’ve got Goff’s assistant. I’m on my way to the video store.”

Goff’s assistant? That’s a stretch. You’re an intern. And not even Goff’s intern. You’re his assistant’s intern.

“I’m not-” you start but he cuts you off.

“Quiet!”

“What?!” says the woman on the phone.

“Sorry, Harcourt. Not you.”

“No, I mean you did what?! Vigilante, you need to run this shit by me. You can’t bring her here.”

“I did you a favour! We’re way ahead of schedule now.”

You hear the unidentified woman grumble. “We’ve got Judomaster here, dumbass. Take her someplace else.”

Goff’s funny little bodyguard. Now you know that Vigilante and the woman on the phone are responsible for Goff’s absence. Shit, what’s he going to do when he realises you know nothing?

“Where am I supposed to take her?”

“That’s what happens when you go rogue, idiot. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. She’s your problem tonight.”

You hear the line beeping as the woman hangs up.

“Fuck!” says Vigilante and he does a U-turn. “Hey, close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna have to take you to my place. I said close your eyes or-”

“Yeah, you’ll kill me. I got it,” you say resignedly. You close your eyes feeling the car turn left, straight for a while, right, left… you lose track. You have no idea where you are or how long it takes you to get there when finally you arrive at your destination.

You hear him get out of the car and still not daring to open your eyes, you feel the cool night air when the passenger door opens.

“Can I open my eyes?”

“Nope.”

You feel him reach over you to unclip your seatbelt and he hoists you out of the car by your upper arm. He roughly steers you across what you guess is a parking lot by the way your high heels click on the asphalt.

His vice-like grip on your arm still doesn’t relent, even when you reach the stairs.

“Not so fast - I can’t see!” And you’re still kind of drunk.

“Shh! Not here,” he whispers urgently. But his hold on you becomes more gentle as he helps you up the stairs, more slowly now. A sliver of empathy.

The sound of keys jingle as he unlocks a door and guides you inside. You hear him locking and bolting the door behind you. Great.

“Can I-”

“Yeah, you can open ‘em.”

You open your eyes. The small apartment is sparsely furnished, obviously decorated by a single man. No artwork on his walls, a small dining table, a clean but worn leather couch without even so much as a throw pillow.

The screech of wood on laminate makes your arm hair stand up as he pulls over a hard wooden chair into the middle of the living room.

“Sit.”

You do as you’re told. He pulls another chair over and sits down opposite you, leaning back, with his arm resting on the back of the chair. Vigilante’s intimidating form relaxes casually in front of you.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he tells you.

“I - do what the easy way?” You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together. What wouldn’t you want Vigilante to do you right now? Stop it, you scold yourself.

“You’ve got information and I need it.”

“I really don’t have any sort of information.”

He edges his seat closer to you, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. Fuck. “Hey, I get it. I was tortured for intel a few days ago and I didn’t crack either-”

“Torture?!” You panic now. “Look, I’m not lying - I’m not Goff’s assistant! If I knew anything I’d tell you.”

His eyes narrow behind the mask. He pulls out his phone, looking through it for something. “Shit.” Vigilante looks from his phone to you. “This isn’t you.” He holds up the screen and shows you a blurry picture of your boss walking out of the office. Sure you look alike - you have the same hair colour and both wear suits to work but she’s significantly older.

You shake your head.

“What were you doing coming out of the senator’s office?” He accuses, as if it’s your fault he’s kidnapped you.

“I’m an intern. It’s my first week.”

“So you work there? Right?” he asks desperately.

“I just get coffee and take notes, dude.”

He tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Oh man, Harcourt’s gonna freak out when I tell her I fucked up again. I can’t believe I picked up the wrong hostage.”

You sit, wrists still tied together in your lap staring at him. Now what? Maybe he’ll just drop you off outside the bar where the grabbed you.

“Look, we all make mistakes. It happens to the best of us. No harm done so-”

“Stop.” He looks up at you. “You know I can’t let you go.”

You take a deep breath and look at him silently for a few seconds. “So now what? Are you gonna kill me?”

“I-”

‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’

Vigilante looks at his phone, apparently confused that it isn’t the source of the music.

“It’s mine,” you sigh, embarrassed by your choice of ringtone. You try to pick your phone out of your suit pocket with tied wrists.

“Your ringtone is Barbie Girl?”

You nod.

He pauses, giving you an unreadable look from behind his mask before reaching into your suit pocket. “I can’t let you have this.” He declines the call. Your phone pings as a message arrives. “Someone called Melanie says ‘Your boyfriend is on the news again’,” he reads.

Fuck. Your best friend Melanie knows all about your stupid crush on the man sitting in front of you right now.

“Hey- don’t read my messages!”

“I need to know if your boyfriend is gonna come looking for you.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, I swear. She’s just making a stupid joke.”

Your phone pings again. “She’s sent you a picture - what’s your passcode?”

“I said don’t read my messages. I’m not telling you my passcode.”

Vigilante sighs and turns your phone around to face you and your Face ID unlocks it. He freezes when he opens the image.

Oh, god.

He turns the phone back towards you again and you groan. Melanie has taken a picture of the news on her TV. Vigilante is on the screen. Shit.

“I told you, it was just a stupid joke,” you mumble, feeling your face turning scarlet.

“I didn’t realise you were a fan,” he says, and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he has a stupid grin under his mask.

“Well, I’m definitely not a fan right now.” You hold up your wrists.

“She can see you’ve opened it. What should I say back?”

“Hmm... say LOL…” He starts typing. “Call the police. I’m being held hostage.”

He deletes what he just typed and gives you a stern look. “Fine, I’ll just go through your messages and see what you said before.”

“No, wait! I was kidding!” You try to snatch the phone from his hands but his reflexes are too quick for your tied hands. He doesn’t have to scroll very far back through your messages to find what he’s looking for.

Vigilante laughs and starts reading aloud. “OMG, he is so fine… I’m just gonna say that again.” He sends the message and you hear the notification of Melanie responding almost immediately. He reads it aloud. “She says ‘Knew you’d appreciate it - wink emoji’.”

“Can you just kill me already?” you ask sarcastically.

He puts your phone in his pocket. “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“So what am I doing here then?”

“Waiting. For now.” You stare at each other for a few seconds. It’s hard not to feel like you’re in immediate danger. “Do you want a beer?”

Perhaps your life isn’t in danger.

You blink at him incredulously. He walks over to the refrigerator and returns with two beers. He opens yours and hands it to you.

“Can you untie me so I can drink it?” You ask, testing the waters.

“Are you gonna try and attack me and escape?”

You’ve never been in a fight in your entire life. There’s no way you’d be able to win in a physical altercation with him, not with his reputation for massacring criminal gangs.

“No.”

Vigilante looks you over, and you stare up at him, waiting for his assessment. “I could take you, anyway,” he says casually and puts down his beer on the coffee table so he can untie your wrists.

You feel yourself blushing again at his words. Vigilante could take you. He means in a fight. But your mind immediately thinks of him taking you in another way.

When he unties you, you rub your wrists, feeling the sweet relief of having them free again. Vigilante kicks back on the couch and gestures to the seat next to him. You move over and perch uncertainly on the cool leather. He lifts the bottle of beer, and then realising he’d need to remove his mask to drink it, puts it back down.

“You can take it off if you want,” you suggest.

“And let you see my face? No way. I have a secret identity.”

“Well, I bet you’re handsome under there.”

What are you doing?

The sensible voice at the back of your mind supposes that flirting with him might convince him to free you. Another slightly louder, drunker voice in your head suggests that flirting with him might convince him to fuck you.

He looks away, flustered. “I dunno about that...”

“That’s why you wear that mask, right? You’re probably so good-looking you’d be easy to spot in a line-up.”

He lifts the edge of his mask - you think for a second he’s about to reveal who he is but instead, he takes a long drink of beer. You watch his sharp jaw and exposed neck as he swallows and get a brief glance at his wet lips before he pulls the fabric back down over his face again.

“That mask doesn’t do you any favours, hiding a jawline like that.”

“Stop it, okay. I know what you’re doing.” You raise your eyebrows. “You think because you’re pretty, you can seduce me into letting you go. It’s not gonna work.”

Pretty.

You try not to smile, to keep your expression blank. You wish you could text Melanie - she’d lose her shit right now. But you’ve laid it on a bit too thick. Even though it is true - he does have a ridiculously nice lower half of his face.

“I’m just passing the time. Believe it or not, I’ve never been abducted before.” You shrug. “So what’s the plan? Stay here until your boss on the phone tells you to kill me in the morning?”

“She’s not my boss.”

“Sounds like she is.”

“I work alone. Mostly. Or with Peacemaker.”

“So let me go then. I won’t tell a soul. I promise.”

“It’s not that simple. I can’t just release a hostage.”

You think. Hard. “What if I could get you the information you need? Then I’m an accomplice. Not a hostage.”

“I thought you just got the coffee?”

“I know where my boss keeps her laptop. And her password.”

“What kind of boss tells a brand new intern her password?”

You purse your lips, wondering how much you can safely reveal to him. “She trusts me.”

“The way you want me to trust you?”

“It’s different… I just don’t want her to get kidnapped too.”

He tilts his head. “That could work.” He hesitates. “But I’ll need to double-check with Harcourt in the morning.” He spins his bottle of beer in his hands.

“I’ll give you the laptop’s location and password if you let me see your face.”

“Uh, no. You’re giving me the location and password in exchange for letting you go.”

“This is a hostage negotiation, right?” You give him a coy smile. “Let the hostage do some negotiating.”

“No way.” He lifts the bottom of his mask up again to take another drink.

“What if I suck your dick, will you show me your face?”

Vigilante chokes on his beer.

“Jeez! I’ve already told you that you can stop coming onto me. I’ve agreed to ask Harcourt to let you go.”

“I know. I’m just shooting my shot,” you smile, resting the beer bottle on your bottom lip. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“Yeah, right.” He says though you can’t help but notice the way his visor-covered eyes linger on your lips.

“Dude, you saw my messages. I’ve always wanted to bump into Vigilante. Under different circumstances, obviously.”

This intrigues him. He turns in his seat, resting on the arm of the couch to face you. “Uh, what kind of circumstances?”

“Well, if you really want to know - they’re in my texts with Melanie.”

He looks at your phone again, opens your messages and starts scrolling up. His eyes widen as he pauses, reading. “Damn…”

“Which one are you reading?”

“There’s more than one?!” His voice is higher pitched this time and you grin. “Uh… ‘I wish we’d bumped into Vigilante when those guys were harassing us leaving the club last night. He would have kicked their asses and I would have-’... Holy shit.”

He adjusts himself in his seat and you can tell he’s hard just from reading your text exchange. You tilt your beer towards him encouragingly. “You can say it.”

“...‘I would have sucked the fucking soul from his body.’ Girls say this kind of shit to each other?”

You sip your drink and say nothing.

Vigilante looks at you like you’re a piece of cake he really, really shouldn’t be thinking about eating. “It would be morally wrong for me to sleep with a hostage.” He looks into your eyes.

You edge closer to him on the couch. “Accomplice, remember? I’m not a hostage if I work with you, right?”

“Listen, you are so hot. And if I met you in real life… fuck. It would be a different story.”

“This is real life.”

“You know what I mean.”

You get on your knees and crawl over to him between his legs. He shrinks back into the corner of the couch cushions. “C’mon. I won’t tell your boss.”

He swallows nervously. “You’re making it really hard for me to say no right now.”

You run your fingers over his belt. “Say you don’t want me to and I’ll stop.” Vigilante groans. You crawl forward again and press your forehead against his masked one, looking into his visor. “Tell me you don’t want me to suck your dick,” you whisper.

“Fuck…” He breathes. “And they call me crazy.”

“Maybe you should be more careful who you let in your car.”

His gloved hand grabs your wrist and for a second you think he’s going to make you stop but instead, he guides your hand onto the bulge through the fabric of his pants. Vigilante leans his head back, exposing a tiny glimpse of his neck between his mask and his suit. Your tongue finds the skin there, sliding across it and you feel him shiver underneath you.

It’s like he’s at your mercy now as you slowly, agonisingly slowly, undo his belt revealing the v-shape of his lower abdominal muscles covered in a smattering of brown hair. You slide your body down between his legs and kiss the trail of hair below his belly button while your hands work, unzipping his pants and pulling his boxers down.

Vigilante’s cock slaps his stomach when you release it from his boxers. Shit, you have a lot to work with. You’re already wet between your legs just from your conversation but the sight of him sprawled out in front of you - his entire body concealed with the exception of his hard cock - sends blood rushing to your pussy.

You lick your lips and the moment your tongue slides across his head, you feel his whole body tremble.

“Holy shit,” Vigilante whispers raggedly from behind his mask. He lifts his head to watch as his length disappears into your mouth, and you look up at him with wide eyes and hollow cheeks, sucking and running your tongue along the underside of his cock.

He grunts as you pull back to run your tongue slowly around his head again. His reaction makes your pussy ache with longing, thinking about how he’d sound with his mask off, moaning like that in your ear.

“Fuck, that’s it. Thaat’s it,” he says through gritted teeth as you find a rhythm, bobbing your head up and down. He threads his gloved hands through your hair - you think he’s going to start fucking your throat but you’re surprised when he doesn’t apply any force, letting you maintain your pace. Vigilante watches you on all fours, your ass in the air behind you as your mouth makes the wettest, sloppiest sucking sounds he’s ever heard.

Then he sees it. A glimpse of your hand under your tailored work skirt, confirming to him again that this isn’t just a ploy for early release. You’re really fucking turned on by being here, sucking his cock.

“Wait…” he whines, tugging gently at the base of your scalp. You pull back, replacing your mouth with your other hand so you can look at him. “Can I fuck you?”

You pull away and bite your lip, still pumping your hand up and down the length of his cock.

“You said you’d show me your face.” Time for your one last bargaining chip.

“I…” He hesitates, propping himself up on his elbows. “I can’t,” he pleads.

“You’ll have to cum here on your stomach then,” you grin, your wet fist picking up pace as he tenses his thighs and tries to stop his hips from jerking up into you. “If you show me your face I’ll let you cum inside me.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he groans. You stop jerking him off and watch him as he pulls his mask off, tossing it aside on the coffee table. He takes a pair of glasses out of his pocket and puts them on.

You stare at him in shock. You were mostly just teasing him earlier- you hadn’t actually expected him to be this good-looking. Sure, you knew from him drinking his beer earlier that he had a nice jawline. But even in your fantasies, he was faceless - he never had gorgeous green eyes and tousled curly hair.

“You’re hot?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. “What the fuck!?”

He smiles. And you can see it this time. It’s beautiful. He has dimples.

The intimidation you felt before when you first saw the masked killer in front of you is nothing compared to how you feel now. You practically melt, turning into putty. Feeling lightheaded you realise you’ve been holding your breath and begin making a conscious effort to breathe again. Seconds ago you were convinced he was at your mercy but now…

“Do whatever you want to me,” you say abruptly. Your underwear is flooded thinking that this man, this ridiculously beautiful killer wants to fuck you.

“Oh… I’m gonna.” He raises his eyebrows and lunges forward, pinning you to the couch and kissing your neck. His rough exterior armour digs into your chest. Your hands wander along his shoulders, trying to find the mechanism to unclip it. He feels your movements and pushes himself off of you so he can undo them himself.

You lie back, watching him remove his suit, revealing a host of white scars and purplish-yellow welts across his toned chest and abdomen. You undo the top two buttons of your blouse.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, tossing his under armour onto the floor. You let out a yelp of surprise when he grabs the opening of your shirt and rips it open, sending buttons scattering across his floor. He pushes your bra up, not bothering to take it off to suck on your tits.

You run your fingers through his curly hair, feeling him sloppily run his tongue over your nipple. His teeth clamp down on your breast - hard - and you squeal and yank his hair.

“Ow! Not so rough!”

He just gives you a mischievous smirk and you release your grip when he sucks the spot gently, in a sort of silent apology. It’s definitely going to leave a bruise tomorrow - a secret souvenir of your night with the masked man from the news all your friends know you have a crush on.

But Christ, what have you let yourself in for?

Vigilante moves down your body, kissing your stomach and pulling off your skirt and underwear in a single movement, throwing them haphazardly on the floor. You gasp when his mouth returns to your body and a soft, wet heat envelopes your pussy. He drags his tongue slowly, carefully along your slit.

“Oh fuck…” you whine, arching your back. “Vigilante, I- wait, fuck, what do I call you?”

“Vigilante,” he says between achingly slow licks. Every nerve ending seems to light up, sending blissful signals to your brain.

“No, I - I mean what’s your name?”

“Vigilante.”

God damn.

You look down and lock eyes with him, his pupils blown so wide his green eyes almost look black as he stares up at you, swirling his tongue in wide circles against your swollen clit. The entire lower half of your body tightens up and the walls of your pussy clench, desperate for something to squeeze around. His fingers, his cock - anything.

You reach down to find his large, gloved hand and tug at the fabric, trying to pull it off him.

He pulls his mouth back and removes his glove with his teeth.

“Is this what you want, baby?” He asks, running a single finger through your slick, wet folds and over your clit.

You nod.

“Beg for it.”

“Please, Vigilante.”

He sinks two fingers deep in your cunt.

“Is this what you fantasise about?” His questioning makes you tighten around his fingers as he draws them in and out of you. Your breathing quickens in time with his fingers pressing against that sweet spot deep inside your pelvis.

He stops abruptly and the whine that escapes you is pathetic.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes,” you moan. “Every night.” You wriggle, trying to fuck yourself on his stationary fingers.

“Finger fucking yourself like this?” He curls his fingers up into you again.

“Mhmm.”

“Use your words.”

“Yes, fuck, just like… like this.” You bring your hand to your clit and start rubbing yourself in an obscene demonstration for him as he watches from his kneeling position, one hand between your thighs.

You’re close now, you can feel your orgasm burning up inside you as your cunt starts pulsing more consistently around his digits and your breathing gets heavier. Just as your release is about to crash over you, he withdraws his hand and grabs your wrist, moving your hand away from your clit.

“Wha-?” You pant dazedly. “I was just about to-”

“I know,” he smirks. “Not yet.”

Fuck. He’s fucking edging you.

His lips meet yours for the first time and you moan softly into his mouth. His tongue rolls against yours and you can still taste your sweet and salty juices on him.

Then, without warning, he flips you over and you gasp wordlessly face down on the leather couch in stunned silence. He pulls your hips back and up towards him.

“Fuck, Vigilante,” you choke, lifting your head up and arching your back, your brain working hard to regain awareness of its surroundings.

The weight of his body presses down on top of you as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’re gonna forget my face in a line-up.”

Fuck.

He takes his cock and drags it over your soaking wet entrance, flushed and swollen for him and the broken sob that escapes you is desperate.

“Please,” you beg again. “Just let me cum.”

Vigilante sinks into you with a forceful jerk of his hips and your pussy seizes up tight around him as your face is forced onto the cold leather again. You try and push yourself up onto all fours.

“Nuh-uh, I like seeing you like this,” he says with another forceful thrust, knocking you off balance. “Hands behind your back.” You huff and do what he says, his still-gloved hand pinning your wrists behind you. “I shoulda just kept you tied up, huh?”

You can’t answer, you can’t move, you can’t do anything except just take him. Sparks of electricity reignite inside you, the deepest you’ve ever felt it as he pounds into you, hitting just that right spot again. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder and when you see Vigilante biting his lip in concentration your walls start pulsing and squeezing around his cock.

“Not… yet.” He grunts. “Not ‘til I say.”

He pushes down on your wrists and it feels like all the air is being knocked from your lungs with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck, you’re such a… pretty… little… hostage,” he groans through gritted teeth, each thrust punctuated by his praise.

“Yes…” you whine because it’s all you can manage to say. It’s all you can think. That one singular confirmation repeating over and over again in your head - it’s all you want to be for him. Fuck, you’d happily spend the rest of your life locked in his apartment, letting him use you like this every time he came home after a night of murdering criminals.

Your eyes roll back in your head, fireworks rocketing and exploding into a million bright pieces. If there’s a heaven, it would look like this - a beaten-up leather couch in a shitty apartment in downtown Evergreen.

His other hand that’s free of his glove and not pinning you down reaches round and starts working your clit with rough, calloused fingertips. You squeeze your eyes shut, not realising they’ve been watering. Real tears leak from the corners, leaving your face a wet mess on the leather seat. You choke out a sob, not sure how much longer you can fight against your orgasm.

“Shh, shhh… it’s okay, baby. You can cum. Let it all out for me.”

And you do.

Everything goes dark and you’re lost in the pleasure that takes over your body, your climax wiping your mind blank of all thoughts except Vigilante. Your pussy clamps down hard like a vice around his cock as you squirm on his fingers. It’s only when you feel him shudder and collapse on top of you that you realise he’s come undone too.

You both lie there for a second, feeling the warmth of your combined mess leaking out and the sound of him panting, exhausted.

“Vigilante…” you say in a strained voice, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” he exhales and takes another gulp of air.

“You’re crushing me.”

“Oh.” He hoists himself off of you. “Let me get you a towel.”

With difficulty, you sit back upright to wipe your eyes and fix your hair. Vigilante returns with a towel and you sit on it, grateful for the barrier between you and the wet, sticky couch cushion.

He throws himself back down beside you. “Whoo, I’m beat!” he says cheerfully. “What do you wanna do now?”

You look at him uncertainly and glance at your watch. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Right, cool. Do you wanna sleep on the couch or-”

‘I’m a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic’

Who’s phoning you this late?

He picks up both of your phones from the coffee table. “It’s mine,” he says and accepts the call. “Hello?”

Wait - his ringtone is Barbie Girl too?

“It’s me,” says the same voice of the woman who called him earlier. “Have you dealt with the hostage yet?”

Vigilante looks at you and hesitates. He swallows. “Yeah. It’s done.”

“So she accepted the bribe? You’ve got the laptop?”

His eyes widen. “The bribe? Oh! Yeah, sure! The bribe...”

“Vij, you didn’t kill her, did you?”

“What?” He lets out a maniacal laugh. “You’re crazy, Harcourt, of course I didn’t kill her. What’s the, uh, budget again?” He winks at you and makes an ‘ok’ sign with his thumb and forefinger. He’s insane, you think.

“I dunno, like five grand?”

“Phew! Then yes, it is all dealt with. Done and dusted. I will get that laptop.”

“You don’t have the laptop yet!? Vigilante, you need to get the laptop before you hand over the money, idiot.”

“Copy that,” he grins.

“Vigilante, what the f-”

He hangs up, cutting her off and tosses his phone aside.

“Good news. I can let you go once you give me the laptop.”

“And the five grand?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Wait, you heard that?!”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well not until you give me the laptop.”

“I can get it tonight if you need it? We just need to swing by my boss’s house before you drop me off.”

He frowns. “Oh. Right. Yeah, of course. I need to… need to take you home.”

You tilt your head to one side and look at him fondly. You fix his messy curls and he closes his eyes at your touch. “Or… I could stay here tonight? Pick up the laptop tomorrow morning once you’ve fixed me some breakfast?”

He perks up. “I could do that! …You’re one hundred per cent sure you can get it though, right?”

You sigh and extend your hand. “Give me my phone.” He does and watches you go through your contacts.

The line rings and a familiar but slightly croaky voice answers.

“Honey, it’s one in the morning. Is everything alright? Did you get home okay?”

“Hey Mom, I’m fine. Listen, I think I forgot to send an email before I left the office and I can’t sleep worrying about it. Can I pick up your laptop first thing tomorrow?”

She yawns. “Sure thing. Don’t get stressed about it. Just go get some sleep.”

“Thanks, boss. I love you.”

“Goodnight sweetie. I love you too.”

You grin as Vigilante gapes at you.

“Goff’s assistant… she’s your-?”

“Yup. Now c’mon, show me where your bedroom is.” You stand up and reach your hands out, waiting for him to guide you. You step on one of your shirt buttons as he leads you towards the hallway. “You owe me a new shirt, by the way.”

“I just made you five grand. Use that to buy a new shirt,” he says, opening the bedroom door.

“Hey, what happened to the hostage negotiation? These are the terms of my release.”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” he smirks, shutting the door behind you.

#vigilante x reader #vigilante #adrian chase x reader #vigilante peacemaker #adrian chase #vigilante x you #freddie stroma #fanfic #peacemaker #vigilante x female reader #adrian chase x female reader #adrian chase x you #adrian chase imagines #adrian chase x y/n

581 notes · View notes

explorevenus · 1 year

Text

toy cars & princess tea parties ♡ steddie x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni !!! srsly i will scream

word count - 4.8k

description - a few years after the (non-canon) events of season four, steddie and reader are grappling with the implications of adulthood-- eddie comes home from work with an interesting idea to take their relationship to the next milestone...

tags/warnings - polyamory, pet names (baby, princess, angel, doll, etc.), praise, threesome, breeding, fem!reader, eddie being mischievous bc he 100% planned this, steve playing right into eddie’s hand and going absolutely feral, p-in-v ofc ♡ also one use of (Y/N) which i didn’t know was a problem for some people but apparently it is so there’s ur warning

a/n - ok i’m sorry but ever since my first time witnessing the six lil nuggets speech i cannot get over the CANONIZED FACT that steve harrington is INTO BREEDING. it’s canon to me and u can ARGUE WITH THE WALL. that being said i felt it was my civic duty to rope eddie into it bc i physically cannot help myself and here we are ♡ i hope u enjoy, i will repent later ♡

p.s. i used the stand-in name ‘jennifer’ for them to refer to a random npc classmate of theirs bc apparently that was an incredibly popular name in the 80′s so if ur name is actually jennifer i am sorry in advance but the name is only mentioned like two or three times at the beginning so

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ! ♡

-venus ♡

It started out as a quiet, normal evening.

You were curled up on the couch with Steve, drifting in and out of naps as he played with your hair and absently watched whatever was on the TV. You were both off work today, and unsurprisingly, it was rather quiet without Eddie around. He'd been working late shifts at the record store lately-- something about a coworker needing a schedule change to coincide with her college classes.

So, there the two of you sat, your hair messy with sleep as you slumped into Steve's chest, his strong arm closed tight around your shoulder, thumb caressing your exposed arm where your blanket had slipped down. It was cozy, it was lazy, it was sweet.

A stark contrast to what you didn't know you were in for that night.

Your sleepy eyes blinked open at the sound of the front door to your shared apartment opening, and you and Steve both turned your heads to see Eddie walk in. Eddie tossed his keys on the counter and stretched his arms up with a dramatic, satisfied groan before kicking his boots off, and his dark chocolate eyes soon trailed across the room to you and Steve.

His lips were quick to upturn into a smile. "What a sight to come home to. Aren't you two just adorable?"

"Says you," You mumbled tiredly, opening up your arms so as to coax him to join you on the couch. "How was work?"

Eddie's posture softened and he wasted little time giving into your command, plopping down on the couch beside you and joining Steve in playing with your hair. "It was fine. Work's work, y'know."

You hummed in acknowledgement, just about to drift back to sleep at the added warmth of his body before he spoke up again.

"Do you guys remember Jennifer from high school?" Eddie asked.

Steve pondered for a moment. "Jennifer... which Jennifer?"

"Chess club Jennifer," Eddie confirmed. "She came into the record store with her boyfriend today, that guy Todd? Well, I guess he's her husband now. Anyway, she was like, super pregnant. Isn't that weird to think about? People we went to high school with are having kids now."

It certainly was weird to think about. High school felt like it was a lifetime ago just about as much as it felt like yesterday, and classmates getting married and starting families were just another harsh reminder that you were all well and truly adults now.

"Yeah... wow. That's a trip," You mumbled, reaching up to rub the sleep out of your eyes. "Sometimes I forget we're not 16 anymore."

"Yeah, seriously," Steve hummed in agreement, and you could have sworn you noticed his muscles tense beneath you.

"Well, good for them," You added, hoping to cut through some of that tension. "They've been dating since like, freshman year. I guess it was only a matter of time."

Eddie let out a little breath through his nose, grinning as he stared forward at the TV, but it was evident he wasn't really watching.

You raised an eyebrow and nudged him. "What?"

Eddie shrugged, drumming his fingers on your hip and stealing glances between you and Steve. "Only a matter of time, huh?" He asked. "Good to know."

Eyes widening, you quickly straightened your posture and stared at him in confusion. "What do you mean?" You pressed further. Steve was watching him too, reaching for the remote and muting the TV without even looking. The silence was deafening.

Eddie shrugged again, face smug with amusement. "I don't know, it's just... seeing them all happy together and starting a family, it just kinda got me thinking, y'know? That could be us someday."

Steve's hand froze on your arm, and now you could hardly read his expression. You just stared between them with eyes so wide you were sure they could see right through them and into the cogs turning in your head.

"Just think about it for a sec, okay? Indulge me for a minute," Eddie continued. "Little Munsons and Harringtons running around, Saturday morning cartoons, bathing fat little babies in the sink... wonder whose seed'll take first," He chuckled to himself.

But that comment alone got to you. Your face burned, and now it was you pretending to watch the TV, even with the sound off. Heat pooled in your core with an embarrassing quickness, and it felt nearly impossible to fight off the image of trying, Steve and Eddie fucking you into a sobbing mess and filling you up to the brim, competing to see who would knock you up first. You swallowed dryly.

"I-I need some water," You stammered, peeling yourself out of their arms and abandoning your blanket as you disappeared into the kitchen.

You had never really talked about having kids before. Steve had always shown an interest in starting a family, but you weren't really sure where you stood, and Eddie didn't seem like the type. You always figured it would be a conversation for another day, a day in the distant future when you were all finally adults working big jobs, picket fence and whatnot.

Yet here you were.

"You alright there, baby?" Steve's voice broke you out of your deep thought and you realized your glass was full beneath the tap, cool water spilling out over your fingers shortly after he'd spoken.

You flinched and turned off the water, setting your glass down and reaching for a rag to dry your hands. You couldn't quite bring yourself to look at him as you replied, "I'm fine, just... thinking."

"Thinkin' pretty hard, it looks like," Eddie teased, coming up behind you with a squeeze to your hips and a sweet kiss to the crown of your head. "Didn't mean to freak you out, doll."

"I'm not freaked out! I promise," You were quick to clarify, taking a big sip of your water with a shaking hand. "Just... caught off guard, I guess. I've never really thought about having kids before."

Eddie let out a little pff. "Oh, come on, I don't believe that. You've never thought about it before? Not even one time?"

You shook your head.

He turned you around in his arms, taking the glass from your hand and returning it to the counter, ensuring he had your full attention. Steve was leaned on the door frame listening, observing. Watching your reddened face.

"You're blushing," Eddie chuckled quietly, leaning down to brush his lips over your forehead before turning over his shoulder to look at Steve. "Help me out here, Harrington?"

But Steve looked just about as flustered as you did. "It would be nice," He admitted. "I've thought about it. A lot. You would make a beautiful mother, (Y/N)."

"See?" Eddie smirked. "Harrington agrees with me."

"Don't you guys think we should wait? I mean, the apartment works just fine for the three of us, but it's a little small to raise kids in, and we're still so young," You said, though you weren't fully sure whether you were trying to convince them or yourself. "It's just a really big decision. I don't think we should rush into it."

"We can get a house!" Eddie grinned, brushing your hair away from your face. "I'll work overtime at the record store, book extra gigs at The Hideout. Whatever I need to do to make that happen. We'll find somewhere real nice, fenced yard and all that. Maybe we can even talk Steve into building a treehouse."

"I don't know, Eds..." You sighed.

You fully expected Steve to back you up on the absurdity of that suggestion, but he didn't. "That's not such a bad idea. I've been saving up from my paychecks since we graduated. It was meant to be a safeguard if Vecna came back and we all needed to hit the road, but it's been a few years now. Maybe we should just do it. Real estate's pretty cheap around here, given everything that's happened."

Perhaps they had a point, although selfishly, you sort of wanted them to keep trying to talk you into it.

"That's great, but have you guys really thought this through? Like really thought it through? Babies are a lot of work, and our relationship is hard enough to explain as it is, people are going to have so many questions--"

"Then let ‘em ask," Eddie interrupted you, planting a sweet kiss on your lips, though he quickly became distracted by your throat, tipping your chin up with his pointer finger. "I don't give a fuck. It doesn't change anything. They'll just be jealous that they don't have an extra parent for their kids like we do, right Stevie?" He spoke between increasingly sloppy kisses to your neck, teeth nipping at your warming skin.

"Exactly," Steve smiled softly, crossing his legs where he stood, and you almost could have sworn you saw the front of his sweatpants tightening. "We're already better off than most couples, if my math is right."

You were quickly melting under Eddie's attention, and Steve's lustful gaze. While you might have initially hoped that excusing yourself for a drink of water would help you cool off, it was entirely obvious now that such an attempt was in vain-- you couldn't fight with yourself anymore. They'd successfully convinced you.

Swallowing thickly, you tangled your fingers into Eddie's messy curls and could hardly bring yourself to look at either of them as you spoke in a near-whisper, "O-Okay, let's do it..."

Eddie froze, pulling away from your neck with a parting nip of the flesh so that he could stare at you with stars in his eyes. "What did you just say?" He asked.

Shyly, you glanced between them, a giddy smile tugging at your burning cheeks. They both looked truly in disbelief. "I said let's do it. Let's try for a baby."

Eddie hardly had a chance to react before Steve crossed the small kitchen and took your face in his hands, pupils blown wide as his mouth collided with yours. You stumbled back into the countertop at the force of him, gripping the edge with one hand and fisting his old Hawkins High gym shirt with the other. Eddie could do little but step back and observe, and unbeknownst to you and Steve, since you were preoccupied, Eddie had quite the satisfied smirk resting on his face. Truthfully, he knew this was what Steve wanted and that it likely wouldn't be much of a challenge to get you both going, the devil that he is. There was nowhere better to start than to just witness the fruit of his efforts.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this," Steve spoke against your lips, letting one hand drop down to slide up beneath your shirt-- a shirt you'd stolen from Eddie's side of the closet-- and you shivered at the feeling of his warm skin on yours. "No idea how long I've wanted to hear you say it, princess..."

"S-Steve--" You gasped, but he wasn't finished yet.

"Say it again," He grunted, hips rutting into yours, and... yeah, his grey sweatpants were definitely getting tight. "Say you're gonna make me a fuckin' daddy, sweetheart."

Eddie watched with anticipation, palming impatiently at the front of his jeans. He knew Steve wanted this, but he didn't know he wanted it this badly.

Breaths quickening, you briefly took Steve's bottom lip between your teeth just to drive him that much crazier before giving in to his request, voice soft and sweet. "I'm gonna make you a fucking daddy, Steve..."

Steve let go of your face to hike one of your legs up over his hip, driving his clothed cock into the seat of your thin pajama shorts. You let out a choked whine, feeling a rush of wetness pooling in your panties, head swimming with need.

"Forgetting someone, angel?" Eddie interjected smugly, eyebrow raised, working himself stiff over his jeans.

Panting against Steve's hot, wet kisses, you barely managed to get the words out. "G-Gonna make you a daddy, Eds... gonna give you a baby..."

Steve groaned against you, lips sloppily trailing down your chin as he lifted you up in one quick motion, peeking his eyes open just enough to orient himself so that he could carry you towards the bedroom. You grabbed at Eddie's free hand as you passed, dragging him along with you, although he hardly needed any convincing-- he'd been waiting for this all day, resisting the urge to feign a sudden onset illness just to skip out of work and fuck you dumb, even though it appeared Steve was determined to beat him to it.

Steve shoved the bedroom door open with a heavy hand and wasted no time pinning you to the bed, tugging at your shirt like he'd die if it didn't come off, and in your eagerness to be touched by them you were quick to lift it over your head for him, exposing your soft chest to the cool air of the room. Steve's teeth dragged over your collarbones and down to the swell of your breast, sucking a harsh mark there before he took your nipple into his mouth and swirled over it with his slick tongue.

"F-Fuck," You sighed, taking a fistful of his thick hair.

Eddie shed himself of his t-shirt and jeans before joining the two of you on the bed, smoothing your hair out of your face with one hand and stroking his hardened cock with the other. "You're gonna look so pretty with a baby in you, dollface," He mused, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. "Everyone's gonna know you're fuckin' ours, huh? Ours forever."

You nodded hazily, reaching out to grab at his thigh, your nails pressing little crescent moon shapes into his alabaster skin. He sucked in a sharp breath, pace of his hand faltering. Eddie didn't want to cum just yet, for obvious reasons, but it was hard to stop himself from jerking off as he watched you writhe under Steve's touch. He found himself having to exercise some serious self control.

Pulling away from your breast with a soft pop, Steve slid his hand beneath the waistband of your shorts and ran two fingers over your drenched panties. "So good and wet for me already," He praised, watching with lust thick in his eyes as you inadvertently bucked into his hand. "You just can't wait, can you? Want me to fuck a baby into you so bad..."

"Y-Yes, Steve, please," You whimpered, shaking hands carding through his hair. "W-Want it so bad..."

"Easy, Harrington," Eddie chuckled breathlessly. "It was my idea. I'm goin' first."

Steve shot him a look that could truly kill, dragging his fingertips over your clothed clit just to make you squirm. "What are we, twelve?" He scoffed.

"Whatever. Don't make me push you off the bed, Stevie. Move," Eddie grunted, expecting Steve to put up more of a fight, but he didn't. He simply rolled his eyes and withdrew his hand from your shorts, clambering off of you to busy himself undressing for now.

Eddie crawled atop your trembling body, kissing down your chest as he dragged your panties and shorts down with a hooked finger. You hastily kicked them off and let them drop off the edge of the bed, leaving you completely bare for them. Eddie took a moment to soak in the sight of you with adoring, hungry eyes, dipping a calloused finger into your folds to ensure you were as wet as Steve said-- you definitely were, in fact, even more so than he'd been led to believe.

With a proud smirk and shaking hands he took hold of your hip, dragging the reddened, weeping head of his cock up the length of your pussy to slick himself with your arousal. You flinched at the stimulation, bucking toward him with a soft mewl of his name, a coded plea for him to get on with it, and he chuckled.

"I've got you, baby," He soothed, gifting you a sweet kiss. "Gonna fuck you real good, promise."

Your jaw dropped in bliss as the head of his cock breached your entrance, and without even thinking about it you hooked a leg around him and drew him deeper into you. He was trying to be gentle, considering they hadn't prepared you quite as well as they usually would, but he was impatient and clearly, so were you. His hips jerked into yours as he lost himself to the feeling of your plush, soaked walls hugging him tightly, and as he buried himself in to the hilt he let out a low growl that was almost animalistic.

Eyelashes fluttering, you whimpered in pleasure at the feeling, holding his soft biceps to ground yourself. "Fuck, Eddie..." You sighed, rocking into him.

"Jesus, baby, you gotta be patient, or I'm gonna bust and then neither of us will get to enjoy this," He chuckled breathlessly, fingertips pressing into your hips as he slowly began to move. "Fuck, you feel like a dream..."

Your head fell back into the pillows as the pace of his thrusts picked up and steadied-- he'd quickly found his rhythm, watching your tits move with every snap of his hips against yours, and he could hardly believe his luck that he'd found two people as perfect as you and Stevie, let alone that you'd agreed to start a family with him. Just the thought of it drove him crazy, and he could barely look at you anymore or he would finish way too soon. Screwing his eyes shut, Eddie let his own head fall back similarly to yours as he submitted himself to the feeling, and the sinful sounds of your slick cunt taking all he would give you.

Steve, newly naked, sat beside you on the bed, taking your breasts into his big hands, thumbs skimming over your pebbled nipples as he watched Eddie fuck you. "Takin' him so well, sweetheart," He mused, resisting the urge to reach for your clit. "You're such a good fuckin' girl, aren't you?"

"S-Stevie," You whined, speech slurring with pleasure as you reached weakly for his hand. "Feels so... so good..."

He hummed, taking a hold of your hand, lips brushing over your knuckles. "I'll bet it does, princess. Gonna let Eds make you a mama, huh?"

"Mhm," You nodded, squeezing his hand. "A-And you too..."

Steve chuckled softly, kissing your knuckles again, more affirmatively this time. "That's right. That's my good girl."

With the combination of their filthy words and the near bruising feeling of Eddie's engorged cock prodding at your cervix, you were ashamed to admit that you were already nearing the finish line too. You desperately clenched around Eddie in an attempt to hold on, but it would seem as though the action brought him that much closer to his own end.

His rings were cold on your hot skin as one hand moved from your hip to the lower part of your stomach, applying just enough pressure to intensify the feeling of his swollen cock inside you. Your mouth fell open in a near silent cry, and Eddie couldn't help a breathless little laugh at your reaction. He just couldn't believe how adorable you were, how perfect you looked even while he was fucking you like a touch starved teenager.

"Right here," Eddie groaned, taking his lip between his teeth with a wild grin. "That's where our perfect little baby is gonna grow, right between these gorgeous fuckin' hips of yours, princess..." His inked skin glowed with sweat in the low bedroom light, and your cheeks burned.

It was in that moment that you started to realize that Eddie really must have been thinking about this for a long time-- running into a classmate of yours at work was just a convenient excuse to bring it up. Regardless, you couldn't help but be glad that he did.

"S-So close, Eds, m'close... please," You whimpered, feeling that knot begin to tighten deep within you, but in his concentration it would seem Eddie had barely registered your plea.

No matter, Steve was certainly paying close attention. He gently brushed your hair away from your face so that he could admire you properly before allowing his hand to travel down the length of your stomach, dipping in the space between you and Eddie so that he could toy with your clit. Mewling in pleasure, you gripping Steve's wrist with a shaking, white knuckled hand as your high crested over you-- you felt your walls pulsing around Eddie's thick cock as your cum seeped out around him.

It would seem that alone was enough to push Eddie finally over the edge. His fingertips bore deeply into your skin, pace of his thrusts faltering as he buried himself as deeply inside you as he could manage and shortly thereafter, you were graced with warmth and butterflies as his hot seed flooded your cunt. The deep, broken moan that fell from his lips was unlike anything you'd ever heard from him before, primal and satisfied like he'd never had an orgasm quite like this. With stilted movements he continued to fuck his seed into you for just a moment until he was absolutely positive you'd drained him dry, and only then was he able to will himself to pull out.

"Jesus, sweetheart, you drive me crazy," He huffed, catching his breath as he reached forward with his thumb and caught a stray globe of pearly white that was threatening to slip out of you, pushing it gently back into your sensitive pussy. "Can't waste a single fuckin' drop, now can we? Not 'til you're good 'n knocked up, huh?"

"E-Eds," You whimpered, jolting beneath his touch and finding yourself unable to do much more than make grabby hands at him, craving his affection.

Flopping to the bed on the other side of you, his lips brushed over your sweaty temple as he soothed, "M'right here, princess, m'not goin' anywhere."

Steve was kind enough to allow you a moment to come back to Earth before reminding you of his presence with a soft touch to your thigh. "Are you ready to go again, sweetheart?" He asked, kind words juxtaposed by the absolute carnal hunger in his eyes, pupils blown wide as he soaked in the pretty sight of Eddie's seed leaking from your cunt.

Just the sight of him hovering over you, careful hands spreading you open by your shaking thighs was more than enough to reignite the flame in your core, bringing a renewed wave of need. You nodded lazily, reaching for his hand.

Steve laced his fingers in yours. "Use your words, princess."

"I-I'm ready, Stevie," You sighed with a sweet smile, your hips working off of a mind of their own as you bucked gently toward him. "Want your cum... n-need it so bad..."

You almost could have sworn you saw his eyes roll back into his head in pure bliss at the sound of those words leaving your lips. In no need of any further convincing, Steve softly kneaded your quivering thigh in his large hand before taking his woefully hard cock in the other, lining himself up with your entrance in a way which took special care to push any stray seed of Eddie's back into you. Your head fell back with a quiet whine, already sensitive from having came already, but equally so your mouth was watering and you could hardly think coherently through the thick fog of need that clouded your fucked out brain.

Steve drove into you as carefully as he could manage in his eagerness, cognizant of your sensitivity but all too anxious to give it all to you. As he bottomed out inside of your slick cunt his eyes screwed shut, almost overwhelmed by the feeling of your cum-soaked walls pulling him in.

He groaned deeply, hips snapping impatiently forward. "S-Six..." He muttered, perhaps to himself, but the utterance did not go unnoticed by you or Eddie.

"Huh?" You mewled, squeezing his hand as you rocked on the bed. "Stevie?"

"Six," He said more clearly now. "I've always wanted six... six cute little terrors, and you're gonna be their mama, huh?"

"Six?" You gasped, but were quickly subdued by the pleasure of his thick cock rutting deeply inside of you, threatening closer to your cervix.

Eddie chuckled. "We could handle it. I mean, we've had plenty of practice."

Now it was you squeezing your eyes shut, head lazily shaking back and forth on the mattress. "Uh-uh," You moaned. "T-That's... s'too many..."

"Jus' think about it," Steve grinned. "Three boys, three girls. Toy cars and princess tea parties, road trips in Eddie's van..."

"S'too much," You slurred, though at this point neither Steve nor Eddie could tell if you were still referring to the six kids thing or if you were just getting overstimulated. They silently figured both were possibly true.

Eddie smoothed your hair away from your forehead. "Doin' so well for us, princess. Just a little longer, m'kay? Stevie's gonna take good care of you."

Tears pricked at your eyes as your second high of the night continued approaching all too quickly. Every last movement Steve made pushed you closer and closer to the edge, beckoning you to finish once more, and it felt so horrifically good that it almost hurt. You could hardly think straight, unintelligible moans tumbling from your lips as you squeezed Steve's hand like he'd disappear if you let go.

"Don't fight it," Steve said breathlessly, squeezing your hand in return as an acknowledgement of your inability to speak up. "Just cum for me, honey, just let go and cum for me..."

His words alone sent shivers down the length of you that glittered and bloomed at the base of your spine and brought your legs together, inadvertently pulling him deeper into you as you cried out and gushed over his hard cock. Your whole body shaking, you hardly even noticed that your free hand was reaching for Eddie's.

"Aww... you're okay, you're alright," Eddie cooed, taking your hand while Steve continued to rut into you, though it was evident he wasn't far from his end, either. "You still with us, pumpkin?" Eddie checked in.

It took you a second to fully process what he'd asked of you, but once you did, you nodded hazily.

"That's my girl, all fucked out and dumb," He praised. "Aren't you just the cutest, hm?"

Eddie brought your hand to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles, and when you pulled his hand towards yourself he expected you would return the affection-- instead, you took his thick middle and ring fingers into your mouth as if to pacify yourself.

He nearly came again at that motion alone.

Steve, who watched this exchange occur with lust-blown eyes, drove into your cunt hard, white knuckling your hips as his jaw dropped in a jagged moan and he emptied his seed as deeply inside you as he could physically manage. For a moment he couldn't bring himself to pull out, rocking into you just a few more gentle times as if to fuck it further in. You were a quivering, whining mess at the hand of his ministrations.

Once he had properly descended back to Earth from his high, Steve leaned down to kiss the blushing bridge of your nose, and then Eddie's ringed knuckles that rested just before your lips. You blinked absently, tears bubbling in your lashes, but even so you couldn't help but smile at how sweet they could be in the aftermath of acts that would reasonably deny you entry into heaven.

"You're so good for us, sweetheart," Steve mused, steadying you by your waist as he unsheathed himself from you, slowly so as not to waste any of their seed. "I can't wait for us to have our own family."

You sucked softly at Eddie's fingers, gazing up at Steve with hazy doe eyes that wordlessly pleaded for him to join you on the bed. Typically he would make you say what you wanted out loud, but neither of them felt the need to bother tonight. After all, you were gifting them something they couldn't get from anyone else, something they only wanted from you.

Catching his breath, Steve brushed his hair away from his face and laid on the other side of you, drawing your shaking body into his warm chest. Eddie scratched your back lovingly as Steve played with your soft hair.

A few moments of comfortable silence passed while you all regained proper consciousness, but that silence was broken by Eddie.

"I hope it’s a boy.”

"A boy?" You gasped, turning over your shoulder to look at him with raised eyebrows. "Like there aren't enough of you already?"

#venustext #sintext #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson x reader #steddie smut #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut

1K notes · View notes

erazonpo3 · 2 months

Text

Erazon's Characterisation Essay (Part 1 - Cynthia Edition)

General preface; This is me snowballing on a thought I had earlier about canon v fanon trends given that it's a pretty evergreen topic. Without getting too much into the subject itself, I made the point that you can use the source material as a starting point for analysing characterisation, but in a lot of cases it's highly interpretive; using Pokemon as an example, most of the non-player characters exist to enable the player's autonomy throughout the game's storyline, and only a small handful have their own detailed arcs and backstories.

Therefore if you want to build on characterisation for them for transformative fanworks, you only have a handful of dialogue lines and some environmental storytelling that borders on olympic levels of mental gymnastics. Things like backstory and character motivation needs to be invented, to which end the concept of 'canon' characterisation becomes pretty insignificant in comparison to the story you are trying to tell, and whether or not that characterisation is thematically appropriate and compelling. Everyone is going to have a subjective opinion about the 'essence' of a character, the core traits that make them who they are, and how integral those traits are for it to be a 'canon' or 'fanon' interpretation.

And yet there's still ways to analyse the games to draw some conclusions that aren't always obvious straight away.

I'm going to go into how I draw characterisation for Cynthia for Way Out, but keep in mind that I don't consider my characterisation perfect or the One True Depiction To End All Others etc and so on and so forth. There's things I need to discard in favour of the story– adults in the Pokemon games, including Cynthia, have a pretty laissez-faire attitude when it comes to kids handling crises so that the target audience (kids) can feel acutalised as they play through the story, but it's not always what I consider a core character trait so much as a function of the medium.

I play up a sense of responsibility and duty that isn't really depicted in the games but is nevertheless an easy takeaway in order to give her character a bit more depth and relateability. And when other people take her character in a different direction, I try to keep an open mind about what they're saying about her character in their story, because their story is not a video game for children nor a webcomic, and they will need to do different things depending on her narrative role.

(I don't have to like it, but I'm no less a subjective soul than anyone else).

I also pull here and there from other sources of inspiration, one I've mentioned before is a meta-analysis of how she's treated by the fandom in general, assuming she'd be treated a similar way as a public figure in-universe. A lot of my character work is about peeling back that legendary status and asking who the person underneath is and how she might deal with the pressures of being expected to consistently meet other people's high standards, and how to balance a healthy competitive streak without it becoming toxic.

But more to the point– here's some material exclusively from Platinum that I think collates to a pretty consistent depiction of her character, to keep in mind and interpret any which way, arranged into some key traits.

She is the granddaughter of a village elder in a traditional rural town.

"My grandma has this sort of bossy atmosphere about her. I think you'll recognize her right away. Yes, I'm sure you will. She's the elder of Celestic Town"

An overlooked aspect of her character that I think holds some of the ripest potential for her character is that we know a fair deal about where her family is from, potentially where she was raised. My personal conclusions are:

It is likely she has an ingrained sense of cultural values of humility, respect, duty, and tradition. While she may not be ruled by these traits, they would influence the way she interacts with the world.

Her interest in mythology is likely inspired the mural in Celestic town, and reflects a value of heritage and history.

It's a common 'fanon' that her grandmother was her primary guardian through much of her childhood, which isn't substantiated anywhere (just because we don't meet her parents as NPCs doesn't mean they don't exist) but this idea strengthens the connection she has to Celestic town and emphasises her position as the elder's heir.

Cynthia introducing herself as a trainer and not a Champion suggests humility; she positions herself as an equal to the player as opposed to a superior.

2. She is earnest and sincere

"...The places we are born. The time we spend living... The languages we speak... We are all different. But the presence of Pokémon unites us. We share our lives with our Pokémon and our happiness grows as we all become greater than we were alone. That is why we can battle and trade with anyone we choose..."

This is a reflection of her position as a narrative foil to Cyrus; where he dismisses the importance of emotion and 'spirit', she holds it in high regard. Thus;

She sees strong emotions as the source of her bond to her Pokemon and therefore the source of her success. While it's not to say she's an overly empathetic person, I think it follows easily that is generally emotionally intelligent (generally).

I think she's self-aware about how emotional she can be too, which is to say it's something she consciously embraces despite knowing she comes across a little overly earnest (and cheesy) sometimes.

"I love the sound a piano makes. I savor every note with my entire being. It's not only my ears; my spirit hears the music it makes... Ehehe, I made myself cringe saying that."

3. She is intelligent

"I think I let myself get carried away and talked for far too long. I'm sorry, and thank you"

This feels like a no brainer (ha) but it's also easy to take someone who comes across as emotional and write them off as being illogical or not having the depth for complex thought. To me, her emotional intelligence goes hand in hand with her analytical intelligence.

Her fascination with mythology is one of her defining traits, and her dialogue is the source of much of the lore surrounding the Sinnoh legendary Pokemon.

Her pursuit of knowledge is one of her defining traits; her interest in mythology and the distant past is referenced more frequently by herself and other NPCs than the fact of her being Champion. "My big sister is studying the myths of Sinnoh. She wants to know how people and Pokemon interacted in the days of myths."

As a Champion, I consider that she's very calculating and analytical. Even without the strategic held items given to her in BDSP, her Pokemon have perfect stats and have solid type coverage. It's not something she would accidentally stumble onto.

"When you are facing a Trainer in battle, you can learn everything about them. What Pokemon they have. What moves they've taught. What items they make Pokemon hold."

4. She is kind

"I want you to keep traveling to many far-off places. I want you to keep meeting all kinds of people and Pokémon. I came all the way here just so I could say that to you!"

A Champion in this game being kind isn't really a revolutionary idea, but it's still something I consider very integral, particularly in conjunction with the prior traits; there is diplomacy and there is compassion, and to me Cynthia balances both.

She is something of a mentor figure to the player, giving them the solution to obstacles on multiple occasissions (HM Cut, the Secret Medicine), and imparts a lot of lore to them. Notably she gives them an egg which hatches into a Togepi; while this event doesn't happen in BDSP and Platinum doesn't have the Fairy type, it's still retroactively made more interesting for the fact that Togekiss' modern Fairy/Flying type grants perfect immunity to her Garchomp's Dragon/Ground typing.

Some of the few interactions the player will have with her is giving medicine to the Psyduck blocking the route to Celestic town, and then delivering a charm to her grandmother– it gives an impression that she is regularly invested in small acts of kindness.

5. Other tidbits

Every time she interacts with you as the player, it is always through the lens of an adult with a public position speaking to a child; I take it as a given that all her interactions have a slight amount of professional distance, and a formality she wouldn't have if speaking to an adult friend.

She reveals that she went on a similar journey as the player character after being given a Pokedex by Professor Rowan, which could imply she experienced similar experiences to the established protagonist journey formula.

There's a slight goofiness to some of her dialogue that suggests she doesn't always take herself too seriously. "You've seen that group of Psyduck huddled with their heads in their, uh, hands...?"

It's a pretty common 'fanon' for Cynthia to have known Cyrus in her childhood, but this isn't really substantiated in text; her dialogue towards him would be a lot colder with that context as opposed to a stranger. It's a common headcanon because giving them a history together strengthens their position as foils, but in my opinion it's equally as interesting that Cyrus succeeds as far as he does because he exists in Cynthia's blind spot- she admits she didn't pay enough attention to what Team Galactic was up to, and can only stand in opposition to him ideologically, unwilling to entertain (or empathise with) his perspective. It hints at a certain stubbornness she has when she believes she's right and someone else is wrong.

This is just what I personally glean from the text; it's possible I've missed something that somebody else considers ultimately integral. But I hope that my writing in Way Out speaks for itself in how I apply all this to her character in the story, and why I feel it's important to do so. Cynthia is the character I second-guess the most in her characterisation because she should always be recognisable, even while going through different arcs. Her values, her intelligence, her sincerity, and her kindness are all things that need to be balanced with the needs of the story; how strong she is is just a relative thing to what any particular scene demands.

There's a lot I could still elaborate on but for the sake of at least attempting to keep this (relatively) concise, I wrote all this to highlight how I try to stay on track with consistent characterisation, which may not be the perfect ideal for this character but nevertheless is the best version for my story. There's nobody I hold to a higher writing standard than myself, and I try to constantly ask myself if I'm really writing what's best for the narrative or if I can do something better. I'm not interested in the most canon depiction that exists for another story, I'm interested in what's right for my story.

And uhhhh peace ✌️

#long post #like long long #it's a whole read #but if you like reading do i have good news for you #pokemon #cynthia #characterisation #tangential enough to way out that i can tag it #way out #im also open to discussions about this because it's just my ~opinion~ and again i like to keep an open mind

33 notes · View notes

gattnk · 9 months

Text

Only Dolce's saccharine nature could counter Kabalè's acrid attitude.

Probably one of my best pairs in terms of contrast, hands down! I'm really proud of how they came out :D Let's go over them design notes:

While Kabalè gave me a lot of room for exploration between her two canon designs, Dolce was pretty straightforward in terms of source material, since she's a series-exclusive character.

I wanted to keep Dolce as part of the main cast because I noticed some animosity from the fandom towards her back in the day, particularly over how "dumb" and stereotypically girly she was. There should be room for ultra-feminine characters in girl-focused media, because I know a lot of girls and women love them and look up to them, and who am I to deny them their fun?

My position regarding Dolce pretty much defined what I would do with Kabalè. If Dolce got to be unapologetically feminine in the traditional sense, why, Kabale HAD to be feminine in a transgressive sense! Those familiar with Ever After High know what I'm talking about: the "opposite" figure to the pink goodie-goodie princess is the purple rebellious evil witch.

My decision to make Kabalè more tanned than her canon counterparts stemmed from the same place as Mefisto and Gabi's changes: it matched her new design much better in terms of color contrast, and adding a bit more variety to the devils wouldn't hurt. I also wanted to pay homage to her hair in both iterations by making her blonde with a high ponytail and a streak.

I studied Dolce's key traits and focused on them for her new design: hearts, pink contrasted with blue and white, and puffy hair. I actually increased the amount of pink but used less saturated hues so they wouldn't clash or feel like too much, and used cyan and off-white accessories to visually segment her body by her joints, similar to an articulated doll.

For Kabalè I chose to mix her "spooky-chic" colors from the series with her comic design, and then I focused on modernizing said design! Not gonna lie, I had a lot of fun looking at current urban fashion and playing around with Kabalè's purple palette, it's not too common apparently (outside of Gengar apparel, lol).

Dolce's mascot, a blushing phantom butterfly, is right atop her hairband to represent how Dolce is the most emotionally mature of the group, since she's also naturally open-minded and focused on positive self-growth. Meanwhile, Kabalè's badger bat perches inside her jacket's inner pocket, symbolizing how Kabalè's polarizing nature often isolates her from the world around her.

Honestly I'm glad these two came out as well as they did, for the longest time I was stuck with them until some good friends of mine gave me a crucial helping hand. To put it bluntly, I wanted them to look grand but my sense of fashion is a bit too practical... all my pants are jeans and I only wear grayscale t-shirts :V Here's the obligatory link to my rewrite fic I'll Fly With You, which I'm working on pretty diligently for now. No promises, but it takes me something like 2 months per chapter? let's hope I didn't jinx it by telling you, heh.

#my art tag #angel's friends #angels friends #character redesign #IFWY #dolce #kabale

81 notes · View notes

boinin · 10 months

Text

Broken Hero: Kunigami's journey in the Neo Egoist League

Overanalysing one edgy orange

0. Background and references

This weekend, I read an excellent analysis on Kunigami on Reddit (it spawns things other than fraud allegations and thirst posts sometimes)... and I was not OK as a result.

I'd been building up to writing an analysis of Kunigami's character for some time, and when the hyperfocus kicked in, it kicked in hard.

Come with me to explore how Kunigami's character arc and journey may pan out within the Neo Egoist League. Manga spoilers throughout, including up to the latest chapters (226 at time of writing).

I'd highly recommend reading StarBurstero's analysis (and their other work!) as this piece heavily draws on the points they raise.

All manga panels are sourced from the official translations, due to the possibility of nuance and foreshadowing that may not arise in scanlations.

Like this? Want to reference these points in your own analysis, on Reddit, YouTube, wherever? Go ahead! A shout out to this post is appreciated. (Straight up plagiarism isn't.)

Pre-Wildcard Kunigami: a wannabe hero

Kunigami has his grumpier moments in the first selection (see: him yeeting Bachira, or breaking up fights), but all in all he's a stand up guy. That's clear from his interaction with Isagi in the cafeteria, where they both share his goal-point steak.

Another character defining moment for him takes place after Team Z's victory against Team V. Kunigami doesn't support Kuon's actions, but he is willing to forgive him now that all has been settled. Raichi is decidedly less forgiving. But Kunigami lingers, and helps a bloodied Kuon to his feet. The choice of dialogue is interesting.

We'll advance together. We know this won't be the case. Both Kuon and Kunigami fail in the second selection, and Kunigami is the sole participant that leaves Wild Card.

But nevertheless, this exchange showcases Kunigami's core attitude. He sees the best in people. He values teamwork and unity, even if he shows egotism in relation to his own goals. He's someone that helps others.

2. What canon information do we have on Wild Card?

...just crumbs. Information on Wild Card has been intentionally vague, with only Ego, Kunigami, and possibly Noa knowing what happened.

Ego simply calls it a secondary route for the losers, and doesn't specify whether there were any entry requirements. The pile of bodies and the attention given to hands suggests two things.

Firstly, contrary to my own assumptions, Wild Card was likely open to all participants eliminated during the second selection. Ego threw the losers a bone, despite having a very specific outcome in mind. The vast majority wouldn't have had a hope of meeting the criteria.

Is that cruel? Maybe. But it's consistent with Ego's attitude towards "lumps of talent". He admitted both Chigiri and Isagi into Blue Lock despite their lacklustre performances in high school, on the basis that the programme might bring forth their sealed egos. He was proven correct.

The focus on hands, other than being creepy, hints at ambidexterity being a key deciding factor in the Wild Card programme. Kunigami confirms this above, in a panel from chapter 213.

Kunigami himself refers to Wild Card as a survival battle, where participants had to match Noa's physical specs number for number. He implicitly confirms that he himself got the closest to Noel Noa's physical abilities, thus winning Wild Card.

3. Kunigami's mindset

We're all Isagi in the bottom corner of that last panel, wanting to know more. But Kunigami has yet to elaborate.

In the Reddit post I linked, StarBurstero theorises what's going through Kunigami's angsty little head: becoming the best striker. Not a midfielder, not a false nine - a striker, and only that. The author proposes that, having had to crush and eliminate everyone in Wild Card, Kunigami has limited empathy for those such as Isagi and Kurona, who are remoulding themselves into other roles to fit into Bastard Munchen.

This tallies with how Noa sees himself, in explaining the distinction between him (the world's best striker), and Snuffy (the world's best player) in chapter 223.

As a player Isagi is closer to Snuffy, in terms of his ability and willingness to adapt, than he is to Noa. Isagi is willing to do whatever it takes to participate in the Neo Egoist League, even if this means providing assists or playing in midfield. But he still maintains his dream of playing as a striker.

As different as Kunigami and Isagi are on the surface, they share a dream. Both want to be the best strikers in the world. In that, they're a lot more similar than the fandom give them credit for.

But the conditions of the Neo-Egoist League pose a stumbling block.

There are limited forward positions, not only in Bastard Munchen, but on the national team itself. To nab a starting position for the U20 World Cup, the characters have only two choices: outshine everyone else playing as a forward, or forsake their dream by assuming a different position. They must choose wisely.

4. Resolve versus adaptability: the Bastard Munchen test

Thematically, Isagi and Kunigami are reflections of one another. They are each others "what ifs?" in a sense.

Heroes in the first selection, both Isagi and Kunigami faced elimination in the 2v2 stage of the second selection; Isagi survived, while Kunigami lost. Isagi emerged as the hero of Blue Lock, following the U20 Japan match. At the same time, Kunigami battled to become the "hero" of Wild Card.

Eventually Kunigami joined Bastard Munchen, alongside Isagi. But they're not co-operative teammates as they were before. They're rivals, battling against one another for the role of striker on this team.

Theirs is a quiet competition, secondary to Isagi and Kaiser's more hostile conflict. But I believe there's thematic significance to their rivalry. For this reason, it's interesting to trace their dynamic over time.

Isagi considered himself outclassed by Kunigami in the first selection. Back then, Kunigami didn't the same "goal sense" that Isagi had. He wasn't particularly technical as a player. He relied on passes and his physicality to get the ball and score goals, using his strength to reliably score from a distance. He's still extremely impressive, in Isagi's eyes.

As Isagi sees it, Kunigami's key attribute is his resolve. He trains hard to maintain his physique. He has a clear vision of who he is, and what kind of footballer he wants to be. At the same point in the story, Isagi lacks this. Even at the start of the Neo-Egoist League, Isagi struggles to articulate what his ideal form is as a player, which Noa calls him out on.

It's understandable that Isagi struggles to formulate what his ideal is, because Isagi's genius lies in his adaptability. Throughout the manga, Isagi has been placed into situations that are chaotic, novel and difficult. His approach to football and his abilities have been challenged in every match, and he's been forced to rebuild himself over and over again.

This is what makes Isagi exceptional, in addition to his incredible eyesight and football sense. He's constantly evolving, constantly coming up with ways to beat his competition. No wonder he can't settle on an ideal, when he's been forced to change constantly. All he's certain of is his desire to play as a striker.

5. Chasing strikers: Isagi's journey

Isagi's problem is that he's never been the best striker in Blue Lock. It's his dream to play as one, but purely in terms of his ability to convert opportunities into goals, Isagi is outclassed by a number of players. Rin. Nagi. Shidou. Arguably Barou.

When these players receive the ball near the goal, their ability to put it through the goalposts is simply better than Isagi's. They have the physique, the strength, or the technical skill to outmanoeuvre whatever obstacles are in the way. This is also true of Kaiser: both have metavision, but Kaiser is far better at scoring, as Isagi himself admits. Kaiser is another prodigy, like Nagi or Sae.

Kunigami is also better at securing goals than Isagi is. However, he's not a prodigy, and he lacks Isagi's insane playmaking ability. Nor does he have Ness, Kurona or Yukimiya on his side. Nobody on the team has a reason to support Kunigami or his goal-scoring competence. Least of all, Isagi: his rival for the position of striker in Bastard Munchen, and his antithesis in a sense.

While Isagi assisted Kunigami in the Barcha match, he does so to stay relevant, after Noa threatens to bench them both.

In the Manshine match, Kunigami poaches Isagi's goal attempt. As furious as Isagi is in this moment, it's not obvious that Isagi's shot would have gone in by itself. He targeted the corner of the goal, but the trajectory appears to veer up and left, beyond the goal.

Kaiser alludes to the shot's inaccuracy, and Isagi acknowledges his shortcomings after the match ends. While his eyesight is his "god given gift", he realises that he lacks the physical ability to make his foresight a reality, per this conversation with Hiori.

Who else does he approach?

While he has the wrong idea (seeking Kunigami's advice on becoming ambidextrous), Isagi's dialogue is on the nose.

Kunigami has what Isagi lacks: the physique and ability needed to consistently score goals. Halfway through the Neo-Egoist League, Isagi realises that to secure a position as a forward, he needs to emulate Kunigami in some way. His hard training pays off: his ranking jumps six points between the Manshine and Ubers matches.

Kunigami is a mirror that Isagi looks into and learns from. And like a morphing reflection, their positions are starting to reverse. While Kunigami performed better initially in the Neo-Egoist League, both in training and in the Barcha match, now Isagi is coming to the fore as the strongest Blue Lock player in Bastard Munchen. His performance in Manshine was incredible. His playmaking in the Ubers match so far surpasses it.

If they are intended to be mirrors, then what can Kunigami learn from his reflection: Isagi?

6. Inert hero: Kunigami's arc

Analysing Isagi is straightforward. We have access to his thoughts and development, all the way through Blue Lock. The same can't be said for Kunigami, whose POV was shown rarely during the first and second selection, but not once since his return in Chapter 155.

There's still conclusions we can draw, despite leaning into extrapolation territory.

Kunigami has always trained hard. The Volume 3 omake (Team Z's schedule) alludes to the guy spending every hour he can in the gym.

While Kunigami entered Blue Lock at a higher level than arguably anyone in Team Z, he stagnated as his teammates rapidly developed. He doesn't have a documented awakening, unlike the other Egoist Four characters. The single moment of progression shown was his first goal against Team V, but this was more Kunigami challenging his limits than truly evolving.

My theory is that this goes back to his key attribute: resolve. His formula of working hard and playing consistently has worked so far. Why change?

Other characters like Isagi experienced failures and setbacks prior to and during Blue Lock, but we don't see Kunigami experience anything similar until the second selection.

It's unfortunate that he only experiences a first setback in losing to Team White. Had a moment of failure taken place earlier, the second selection may have played out differently for Kunigami. As it was, this segment of Blue Lock was not forgiving of mistakes. Only players who could adapt and evolve, devour and be devoured, made it to the third selection.

Kunigami just didn't have that adaptability. It's contrary to his nature of working hard, consistently and fairly.

Shidou remarks on Kunigami's resolute nature explicitly after their 2v2 match. It's why he chooses Reo over Kunigami.

Analysis often focuses on Shidou's criticism of Kunigami's heroic idealism, given that Kunigami goes on to reject this himself. But the second point Shidou makes is more important. He's really critiquing Kunigami's inability to adapt and react, not his strength or his motivation. But Kunigami seemingly only internalises the first part.

Failure in the second selection made Kunigami discard heroism as his motivation, in addition to the conditioning forced on him in Wild Card. But Kunigami continues to struggle, even after leaving his so-called naivety in hell.

He came out of Wild Card stronger, faster, and more competent at scoring. It's still not enough to out-do Kaiser and impress Noa in the Barcha match.

If Kunigami took Shidou's words to heart, he might consider his success in Wild Card proof that he can break himself down and be rebuilt. At a minimum, we can speculate that Wild Card consisted of the participants being deconstructed piece by piece, egos eroded and replaced with a drive to become Noel Noa's "vessel".

But in truth, Kunigami already had a lot of the traits needed to become Noa's copycat. Other than developing ambidexterity and packing on even more muscle, the "breaking down" that took place was really the overwriting of his idealism with that of Noa's.

When Ego considers the ways participants may succeed in the Neo-Egoist League, both Isagi and Kunigami are pictured. At the present stage in the manga, Isagi seems to be the fish adapting to his environment and thriving - slowly dyeing the fabric of Bastard Munchen to suit his playstyle.

Kunigami is the one suffocating, unable to breath in this claustrophobic environment.

His core issue - his lack of adaptability - persists. He is unwilling to consider being anything else than a pure striker. In the Neo-Egoist League to date, he has failed to make chemical reactions with anyone.

If Isagi is a universal catalyst, Kunigami is inert. For now.

7. Hero rebuilt: Kunigami, secondary protagonist

Kunigami is an important part of the Neo-Egoist League arc. Not only is he a returning character, but a significant parallel to Isagi. It's no coincidence that they are presented together in many of the panels relating to the arc as a whole.

There's a lot of symbolism in Blue Lock. The panel announcing the Neo-Egoist League establishes Isagi and Kunigami as dual protagonists, with Kaiser as the primary antagonist. The end of the Barcha match really reinforces the idea that these characters are the main heroes within Bastard Munchen.

Isagi has been on a learning journey from the beginning of this arc, starting with his underdog struggle against Kaiser. If Kunigami's journey is a mirror of Isagi's, then we can expect him to encounter his most difficult hurdle later in the arc, leading to an epiphany about his playstyle. At this point, it's fair to conclude this will happen in Bastard Munchen's match against Paris X Gen.

These are my outstanding questions about Kunigami's journey, which I believe the manga must eventually address:

What will be Kunigami's darkest hour: the low point where he realises he must change or die (metaphorically)?

When he overcomes this moment and emerges stronger, like a phoenix - what will Kunigami's true ego be? Will he return to his original heroism, or strike a balance between his past and present selves? Hero and Wild Card, accepting both?

I'm not going to delve much into Question 2. Hero, Wild Card, Dark Horse, Phoenix - all of these could work as a manifestation of Kunigami's ego. The only thing I can say with confidence is that his ego will manifest. This has been the case for each of the other Egoist Four characters (although Isagi's true ego remains in flux). Personally, I'd like to see an ego manifestation that reconciles the personas of pre- and post-Wild Card Kunigami. I trust the writer and mangaka will serve on that front when the time comes.

On question 1, the fandom (and myself) are hyped for a particular reunion. It's hard to imagine a better catalyst for Kunigami's change than the person that sent him to Wild Card in the first place: a literal demon, the manifestation of Kunigami's internal woes.

Shidou is the opposite of Kunigami in many ways, when they encounter each other in the second selection. Although both are strong with imposing physical abilities, Shidou is chaotic while Kunigami is lawful; Shidou abhors dull players, the ones that cannot spark "explosions", while Kunigami sees Shidou as a violent psychopath. Shidou has no qualms in crushing weaker players. Kunigami defends them, regardless of their nature.

But Kunigami has changed greatly since their last encounter. He and Shidou have more in common than before. In Wild Card, Kunigami had to learn how to crush the weak, despite his inclination to advance together. He's had to become more aloof, more violent even, to survive in Wild Card and in the Neo Egoist League. He's more resolute in becoming the world's best striker than ever.

But Kunigami still doesn't know how to explode. He doesn't have chemical reactions with other players. The part of him that valued teamwork died in Wild Card. Compare this to Shidou, who thrives off what he calls explosions. He adores Sae, because their chemistry on the field made Shidou soar. Sae unleashes Shidou's inner dragon.

I believe in facing Shidou, who will form reactions with his supportive teammates, Kunigami will come to realise that he cannot overcome his demons without assistance from outside. He'll realise his heroism was never the issue: it was his lack of adaptability. To overcome Shidou, Kunigami will need a catalyst to create a chemical reaction.

Luckily, Bastard Munchen has the one person capable of reacting with anyone: the embodiment of adaptability. Who better to set the true Kunigami free than his idealogical mirror? The one person who, thematically, has been by his side since the start?

A link-up between Isagi and Kunigami - dual protagonists, reflections of one another - would be an amazing way to round off both Isagi and Kunigami's journeys in the Neo Egoist League. Even better if the final goal against Paris X Gen is the result of their genuine teamwork - mirroring their resentful co-operation during the Barcha match.

I'm manifesting this and I hope you might too. If for no other reason because... can you imagine the look on Kaiser's face if this happens?

Absolute gold.

---

If you read to the end, thank you! I'd love to hear my fellow nerds thoughts on this and Kunigami generally.

Further reading: short analysis of Kunigami's effectiveness on the pitch up to chapter 232.

#blue lock #kunigami rensuke #isagi yoichi #bllk #blue lock analysis #bllk analysis #blue lock meta #bllk meta #blue lock anime spoilers #bllk anime spoilers #boinin talks bllk #long post #mine

61 notes · View notes

becauseicantthinkwritings · 2 years

Text

The Agony of Desire

Part 13 // Masterlist

A/N: I've never been able to see Billy Russo and BB as the same person, I know I've mentioned it before... but my brain doesn't link them together even though I know logically that they share the same face. This is why I was able to continue to write for Billy Russo. But it was definitely hard at first. I'm not sure if I'll be able to write any new things about him- right now I'm just determined to finish the things I've started. I can't look at pictures of him, so you'll see me using less gifs of his face.

Warnings: Smut (18+), consensual dub-con (everything is consented to beforehand), oral (m and f receiving), dd/lg scene, daddy kink (Billy does get a bit creepy but it's all part of the scene), p in v sex, many mentions of sex throughout, office sex, car sex, mentions and talks of pregnancy, mafia themes, mentions of murder, canon typical themes.

P.S. I'm really sorry in advance 💖

Dedicated to, @bustlingcrowdsxorxsilentsleepers, @pillow-titties, @justchloe2184 and so many more that my tags would not work for but if you commented or reblogged part 12... I mean you 😘😘

"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."

― Kahlil Gibran

"Are you lost, little girl?"

From your spot on the bench of the museum, you look up.

He's dressed down, a casual grey shirt and some fitted jeans that are paired with boots shined so pristinely that you want to rub your dripping center all over them.

You give him a fake sniffle.

"My daddy left me here and told me he'd be right back but it's been hours."

You can see the delight in his eyes.

"Oh, you poor thing," he says, taking the open seat next to you, "Little girls shouldn't be left alone. Who knows what kind of trouble they can get into?"

You frown, pretend wiping at the corner of your eye.

"I'm no trouble Mister, I'm really good. Daddy always tells me I'm really good."

He clears his throat, looking around, you think you can make out how tight his pants gets.

"Okay, maybe we can go look for him. I have a phone in my car. Why don't you come with me?"

You swallow, pretending to be shy.

"I'm not supposed to go off with strangers." You murmur, looking away instead of at him.

"Oh, poor sweet girl. I'm not a stranger am I? I'm Billy. I can help you if you want."

You swallow, looking up at him, nodding your head eventually, and taking his hand when he stands.

The key was to dress innocent, without having it look childish in any way. You think you accomplished that with your cozy oversized sweater and sheer tights look paired with a little skirt. The paw of your sweater eats his hand as he guides you to his Jeep, sitting in the far end of an underground parking lot. The windows are tinted dark, perfect for a debauched man to have his way with you.

"Oh! Is this your Jeep? It's really nice, Mister."

He looks back to give you a wicked grin.

"Thank you, my phone's in the back. Why don't you hop on in?" He pulls open the door, and the Jeep is so high off the ground that he has to grip your hips firmly to give you a boost. If anything, it makes you so much more aroused that he picked this vehicle.

You scoot in, sliding to give him space to get in next to you. When you look around for the phone and can't see it, you turn to look at him curiously.

He smiles, leaning forward, and you gulp, leaning back. His body gets very close to yours, his breath hits your lips and he smiles at the uncomfortable look you give him. One hand is behind you rummaging around, and his other hand smoothes over your knee for a short moment.

"Here it is." He says, pulling a phone free and placing it unlocked in your palms.

You type in your own number, and give him a little smile as you press the phone to your ear.

You pretend to be too distracted to notice that his hand's still on your knee, but you can feel him, warm and gentle, where he's meant to be.

Your phone rings and rings, probably vibrating it's little life out on his countertop where you left it this morning.

"He's not answering." You say sadly, looking up at Billy.

He clicks his tongue, "Oh you poor thing. Lost, with no daddy to help you."

Your frown deepens, his hands slides a little higher up your thigh.

"What do I do?" You say to him, and he gives you a little smile, and a tilt of his head.

"Well, I can help you get home, little girl."

"Really?!" You say excitedly.

"Yeah, I can take you home to your daddy."

"Thank you!" You sing, throwing your arms around him, and you feel his palms on the backs of your thighs.

"Don't thank me just yet, princess. I need to get something in return."

You stiffen, pulling away to sit back, playing with the edge of your sweater.

"Well, what do you want?" You ask quietly, not looking up at him.

He smiles, leaning forward to brush a strand of hair away from your eyes.

"Why don't we start with a kiss?"

You gulp shaking your head.

"I'm only allowed to do that with my Daddy."

Billy leans forward, his hand snaking down to your shoulder.

"Well I don't see your daddy around. Do you?"

You think for a second before shaking your head again.

"Maybe I can be your daddy for a little bit. How does that sound princess?"

You bite the edge of your lip, nodding your head slowly.

"I'd like that, Mister."

He gives you a pleased smile and you can't help wiggling your legs excitedly, returning his smile.

"How about that kiss?" He asks.

You nod with determination, leaning forward, you have to brace your palms on his large thigh and tilt your head up for your lips to meet his. He doesn't make it easier, doesn't bend his head or even look down, forcing you to do all the work.

You press your mouth to his, and you sigh against his mouth. Your lips are slow and tentative, giving the impression that you're not too sure about this.

All too soon, you're pulling away, dropping your body back into a sitting position beside him.

"That's a kiss?" Billy asks, unimpressed.

You frown.

"Is that the kind of kiss that makes your daddy happy? That's pathetic."

Your lip wobbles.

"I'm sorry, that's just what daddy taught me."

He cups your cheeks and you sniffle.

"Oh, poor princess, its not your fault at all. You just haven't been taught well enough."

You don't meet his eyes, letting him take a moment to study your sad expression.

"I can teach you if you want." Billy offers.

You perk up.

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Close your eyes."

You do as he says.

"Now," his voice is deep and low, "just copy what I do, okay?"

"'Kay." You whisper.

His mouth descends on yours.

Devouring would be a kind word.

Billy starts slowly, with feverish kisses and heated moans but it doesn't last long at all, before he's licking at the seam of your lips.

"Open that pretty mouth for me princess." He says, or rather commands, and you obey.

His tongue is slippery and dextrous against yours. He finds a way to explore the cavern of your mouth thoroughly, sloppily, just like a true perversive man would.

He keeps it filthy, not stopping when you make a sound of protest as he leans over you, letting his body cover yours, forcing you to lean back against your will.

You hardly notice he's slipping his hands under your shirt and tugging at the cups of your bra until it's too late.

You let out a shuddering sound of surprise, turning your head away to break the kiss as you realise he's pushed your sweater up and he's feeling shamelessly at your nipples. You raise your hands to grip at his wrists, trying to tug him away gently.

He kisses at your neck, pressing more of his solid weight on top of you to stop your resistance.

He's gentle with your nipples, rubbing slow circles into them, until they're stiff and puffy and begging for attention.

Pleasure sweeps up your spine in a syrupy mess, you can't resist him when he's teasing you like this, you can feel your body going pliant below him like it's accustomed to.

Thankfully, he pulls back, his mouth leaves your neck, and he even takes the time to right your bra, though the material is now uncomfortable on your aching nipples.

"Sorry baby girl, got a little carried away." Billy murmurs as he tugs your sweater down.

You pout at him.

"Does that mean you'll take me home now?"

"No, bunny," He says with a laugh, "We're not done kissing yet."

He reaches to grip the back of your neck with warm, slender fingers. Your head swims with the desire to be pliant for him.

"Have you ever kissed a cock, baby?" He asks, his other hand reaching down to undo the buckle of his belt.

You almost moan.

What should you say, yes? No? What would make him lose his mind?

"N-no sir." You finally decide.

Billy pauses as he gets the button of his jeans open.

"No?" He asks.

You shake your head as best as you can with his hand in your hair.

"Well we'll just have to fix that, won't we?" He says, undoing his zipper, and pulling his cock free.

Your mouth waters imperceptibly, aching for a taste of him.

His grip on the back of your head tightens, and he guides your mouth to his cock, leaving no room for argument.

"Go on, princess, give it a little kiss."

You do as he says, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the head of his cock. You're rewarded with a low moan, your skin tingling with the excitement.

You pause, looking up at him expectantly for more instructions.

"Wrap your lips around the tip, go on, no teeth baby. If I feel any teeth you're gonna be in big trouble."

You lick your lips before dropping your head again.

The tip of his cock is smooth, and slightly salty with his precum, you suck gently, exploring him with the tip of your tongue.

You let out a little noise of protest when he pushes your head deeper.

He groans again, and you hum in delight, taking the initiative to sink your head lower.

"Oh, princess." Billy moans. You can't resist rubbing your thighs together to get some kind of friction on your aching clit. You almost consider rubbing your clothed pussy against the edge of his seat, before you decide not to. Not wanting to risk the possibility of losing an orgasm.

You suck his cock eagerly, accepting the way he guides your head, using you gently but with purposeful strokes.

It's the sweet nothings in your ear that get you even wetter. He constantly praises you, telling you how good you're doing, how pretty you look slurping on his heavy cock and it encourages you to take him deeper, a little too enthusiastically until you gag around him.

You pull away shyly, gasping for breath and looking at him, a little ashamed that you might have disappointed him.

You squeak when he pulls you into him, being forced to straddle one of his thighs for purchase as his mouth descends on yours. His hands wander over your body eagerly, pulling at your clothes but never actually taking any off.

"Why don't you tug those leggings off and show me that pretty cunt, baby?" Billy asks when he pulls away. A little shy sound leaves your throat, looking up at him, unsure.

He nods his head in assurance, and you sigh, sitting back on his seat and tugging your shoes off, reaching up under your skirt to pull your sheer black tights down the length of your legs. You try not to shiver with his eyes fixed firmly on your movements, only looking up at him when your tights lay in a crumpled heap on the floor of his Jeep.

He's tucked his cock back into his boxers, and you almost pout when you notice, but he doesn't let you think about it for too long.

"Good. Now, lean back, spread your legs for me." He instructs.

You do as he says, propping one foot onto his seat so that he can see the glow of your white panties in the darkness of the van.

His eyes darken, and you swallow when you realise that the damp spot where your arousal is soaking through the fabric can be seen.

He watches you for a long moment, devouring the way you look.

"Take those little panties off for me too." He orders, and you gulp, shifting a little to slide them off.

He extends a hand to pluck them from your fist, grabbing your ankles to tug you closer to him, you yelp, your sweater and skirt rolling up in the process.

"Ever had your pussy kissed before, princess?"

"No, daddy." You hum, watching him bite down on his bottom lip so hard you swear it'll bleed.

"Your daddy never buried his tongue between your legs?"

"He said gentlemen don't do that." You whisper.

Billy scoffs angrily.

"Well, it's a good thing I'm no gentleman then." He mutters, before dropping his head between your thighs.

You cry out in surprise when his tongue meets your aching bud. He moans, the vibrations adding more pleasure to your clit.

It's filthy- the sounds he makes as he runs his tongue through your folds.

The backseat isn't spacious like a bed is, and Billy's large body is bowed in half in his determination to eat you out.

"Ah! Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, please!" You cry.

His mouth doesn't stop, his tongue feels like a probing appendage, hell bent on exploring every inch of your dripping cunt.

Your clit is stiff and throbbing when he sucks it between his lips, your back arching, your body trembles. His tongue laps over your clit before he stops, pulling away, licking his lips eagerly.

You mewl in protest, reaching for him in agitation but he swiftly grabs both your wrists to pin them beside your head.

"Daddyyyyyy," you cry, "feels really good, why'd you stop?"

"Calm down, princess." He says sternly, but you continue to pout, wriggling below him.

"I though you told me you weren't any trouble baby? That you were good. This isn't being good for me. Are you a little liar?" Billy taunts.

You pause, dropping your head in shame.

"Sorry, daddy." You say, slumping in defeat.

"That's alright princess. I only stopped to get you out of this heavy sweater. Do you want that?" He asks, fingers gripping at the edge of the sweater in question.

"Yes, daddy." You whisper, sighing when he carefully peels your thick sweater off your body. He unzips your skirt next, pulling it free before reaching to undo your bra.

"Look at you," he murmurs when he finally has you bare below him, "All naked and needy in the back of some stranger's car. This what you wanted, princess? To give your desperate cunt to the first man that was nice to you?"

"N-no sir. I jus' wanna go home to my daddy." You mumble, looking up at him.

"Oh princess," Billy sighs, dropping his head to lick a wet stripe from your collarbone to your jaw, "Don't you know that I'm your daddy now?"

You squeak in pleasure when his teeth sink into the skin of your neck gently. You moan loudly in response.

"Fuck. Look at these perfect tits. I could soak them in my cum if I wanted. What do you think?"

He asks, cupping a breast in either hand, massaging them gently.

"I'll be all messy." You protest lightly, eager to do whatever he wanted.

Billy hums deep in thought.

"You're right, I can always take you back to my place and cum all over your tits there."

"What?" You ask in surprise, "But you promised to take me home!"

Billy finally gives you his full predatory smile. It makes you shiver with excitement.

"I see no reason why we can't make my home into your home too... doesn't that sound like fun?"

You don't respond immediately, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Oh, don't be like that, baby. I bet I can convince this pretty cunt to come home with me. Shall I try?"

He doesn't wait for your response, kissing either breast and then tracing his way down your body. With each kiss, his beard tingles as it rubs against your skin.

His tongue is a lot slower when it slides over your clit the second time.

"Ohhhh..." you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head as he takes his time exploring you.

His hands grip your thighs tightly, and then he starts pushing his tongue deeper into your entrance. You gasp, the thought of this gorgeous man with his face pressed flush to your cunt makes you cry out, and then his pace increases as he swipes his tongue haphazardly over your clit.

He's so good, and you know you can't fight it. The tip of his tongue making fast circles on your clit, licking from your entrance all the way up and back down until you're shaking once again below him.

"Want you to cum for me, princess, on my tongue." He says, and then he's working in overtime, doing any filthy move possible until you cry out loudly, coming all over his tongue just the way he asked.

You gasp, say his name, watch him sit up happily, before grabbing you eagerly.

"Look how happy I make your pussy, princess. Will you come home with me now?" He asks.

Well damn, you couldn't say no to him.

He slides you onto his cock just as you say yes.

You gasp in surprise, unaware that he'd even freed his cock a second time and suddenly he's guiding your hips against his.

"Look how pretty you are, baby. Naked and bouncy on my big cock. You gonna cum again? Gonna ride me in my car and cum all over me?"

He pants hotly, pulling your face into his to give you a sloppy kiss.

"Fuck. Fuck you feel so good. So fucking tight I'm gonna come so deep inside you."

He lets out a long groan.

"Wanna take you on every fucking surface- Did I mention that? In every way, until you're dumb from it."

You were definitely dumb right now. Your mind was a shallow puddle of your thoughts- all centered around him and you were so on edge you could practically taste it.

"Gonna cum with you princess, fill you right up, watch it spill out. You're so good for me. Such a pretty little place for my cum. Daddy's perfect little hole."

"Daddy!" You cry, unable to fight it any longer, your walls squeeze his cock tightly as you cum hard, shaking as your orgasm floods your head, washing whatever little thoughts you have away with a tidal wave of pleasure.

You gasp, and his hands clench on your hips, you feel him make a few harsh thrusts before he groans loudly, emptying himself right into you.

He makes a few more small thrusts, and you sigh blissfully as it prolongs your orgasm. Your cunt is swollen and sticky with the shared fluids of your cum, but he still doesn't pull out of you.

You slump against him tiredly, and you feel him stroke the back of your head.

"How was that?" He asks, laying slow kisses onto your shoulders.

When you don't respond immediately, he whispers your name, concern laced into his voice.

"'M okay, daddy, jus' tired now." You murmur, peeking an eye open to look up at his bearded jaw.

Billy recognises that you're deep in subspace, and he holds you tight to his body as you float around him.

"You did so good princess, so good for me. Gonna take you home and draw you a nice bath."

You hum in protest.

"Thought you were gonna take me home an' cum on my tits?" You ask lazily, a little frown on your face that he can't see.

He sighs, continuing to stroke the back of your head.

"We can do that after the bath, but bath first, yeah?"

"Okay."

He places a soft kiss to your forehead, understanding that he just needed to be patient with you while you were lost in your head.

"Daddy?"

"Hmm?"

"Love you."

He smiles.

"Love you too, baby."

"I'm so happy for you." You say softly, head tossed back on Karen’s couch.

Her red hair catches on the streetlights. It reminds of the way you'd gripped it in your hands all those years ago. You both sit in the dark, the sun having just set and neither of you could find the motivation to get up to turn the lights on.

"To think, this all started the night you and I hooked up."

You giggle softly, and then grows louder as ideas spring in your head.

"Can you imagine if I-" You gasp for air, "-If I put that in the toast?"

She laughs with you. Her engagement ring glitters as she takes a swig of her beer.

"What about you? Think you'll ever do it?"

You let out an exhausted sigh.

"Oh absolutely not." You protest. It gets silent as you try to build up the courage to speak the words to her.

"I still get nightmares about it." You confess.

She turns her head to look at you, you don't meet her eyes.

"I still remember the hopelessness of walking down that aisle, Ward's eyes as he hits me, sometimes I jerk awake with the memory." You smile, peeking at her.

"It's not all bad, I wake up next to him after all, and he stays awake with me, holds me, until I fall asleep again."

"You don't have to come to mine-"

You wave a hand to stop her.

"-No, it'll be fine as long as I'm not wearing white. Plus, you're not even having it in a church, so I'll be okay. I promise."

She smiles at you, and when it's not enough, she reaches forward to take you into a sideways hug.

"I'm glad I have you. I'm glad we met. I hope every universe has a you to go with me."

The thought squeezes your throat.

"And if you ever decide to leave Frank, we can still shave our heads and move to Bolivia."

She laughs. You're both interrupted by the buzzer in her apartment going off.

"Pizza's here. I'll be right back." She says, before slipping out the door with a jacket in hand.

You wait in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the city, sipping your beer.

When her apartment phone rings, you raise your head.

You know Karen had people calling her at all hours, waiting to give her information on whatever story she was following. Usually she preferred that the call goes to voicemail instead of having you answer and take the message, so you you sit back and let it ring.

When it stops ringing, and you hear her automated voice message play, a man's voice comes on next.

His tone is shaky, he's breathing between each word, it sounds like he's walking fast, or maybe just excited.

"Kar. I know you told me the Fisk thing was a dead end- but I was right. Someone's taken over the entire ring. I don't have much, only a name. Blackbird Enterprises. Call me when you get this."

The voicemail ends.

You blink, screwing your face into disgruntled confusion. In your state of inebriation, none of it makes sense. You take another sip of beer, leaning back and waiting for Karen to arrive with the delicious pizza.

You spend the night at her place, while Billy and Frank work late, you drink beers and have pizza and eventually fall asleep beside each other on her bed.

When you wake up in the morning. There's no memory of ever hearing any man's urgent voice on the phone.

"Did you have a good time at your sleepover last night?" Billy asks.

"Mhmmm." You hum, a moan leaving your lips immediately after as his thumb swirls over your clit.

Your cheek is pressed flush to his desk, the oak turning warm from how long you've been in this position.

You feel his mouth seal over your cunt, you squeak as his tongue delves as deep into your core as possible.

When he pulls back, you wish you could see him. You imagine his mouth and chin is slick with your arousal, his tongue cleaning up whatever it can.

"That's nice, I'm glad you have someone to spend time with when I'm busy."

When you can only hum again, he pinches your clit in warning. You jerk in surprise.

"Words, baby."

"Karen is nice. She's amazing," you sigh, "but there's nothing quite like spending time with you."

You hear his sigh, his thumb makes meaningful swirls on your clit to show you his appreciation.

"That's... good to hear. Honestly... sometimes I get a little jealous."

You raise your head, trying to look back at him, but his palm grips the flesh of your asscheek in warning.

"You do?" You ask instead, returning to your position without protest.

"Without a doubt. Sometimes... I worry that she's stealing you away from me. That maybe she's taking my place when I'm not around."

"She wouldn't- I wouldn't-" You try to formulate a sentence.

"I know," he admits, leaning forward you kiss your slit, "Believe me, I trust you both. It's just my insecurities rearing its head. It has nothing to do with you at all."

You try to focus.

"You should tell someone."

"I'm telling you."

"I mean, someone who can help, someone who can show you that you have no reason to feel like that."

"Like a therapist?"

"Exactly like a therapist."

He hums, mouthing over your pussy, moaning as he tastes you.

"It's not a bad idea." He decides, finally doubling down on his efforts to make you cum.

You sigh in relief, groaning as he licks over your clit again and again and again until you're fighting back blissful screams of pleasure.

You tug your panties back up your legs, grinning at him as he rights his belt.

When he looks up at you. He gives you a bashful smile.

"What?" He asks softly.

You shake your head.

"Nothing. I just love you."

He chuckles.

"Careful. I'm not above bending you over this desk again."

"Wha-?! I was literally just telling you I love you." You complain.

He gives you a cheeky smile, stepping into your space. You gulp as he uses his hips to pin you against the table. You can feel the little bulge in his pants where he's already half hard.

"And do you have any idea what that does to me?" He asks, his finger twirling around a lock of your hair.

"Uhhhh" Is all you can say.

"That's right. It makes me want to get on my knees and thank you. Repeatedly. Until you can't walk."

"Ummmmmm" You try again.

He laughs, the sound makes your chest feel warm as he leans in to kiss you.

His phone rings.

"Fuck." He grumbles, slipping away from you to pick up the phone.

"This better be good." He answers and you watch him listen to what's being said on the other side.

"Hold on." He bites, and you marvel at the way he speaks to other people, compared to the way he speaks to you. He presses the phone to his chest.

"I'll just be a moment honey, don't move." He says to you, heading into the adjoining room to take his call.

You smile and nod, trying to ignore the way his newest pet name sinks right down to your core. Makes you wish he'd come back and lay you over his desk like he did earlier.

Speaking of his desk, you smile and look back at it. The entire system was in disarray.

You take your time, straightening papers, and placing his laptop back in its original place. You even open it up in an attempt to please him. When you reach for some of the stray pieces of paper on the floor, you notice a familiar name on one of the shredded papers in his bin.

Blackbird.

It's like a scratching in the back of your head, like someone knocking far off in the distance and you're in a hallway full of doors.

"-but I was right...Someone's taken over the entire ring.... Blackbird Enterprises.... when you get this..."

You frown, dropping the shredded line of paper back into the bin. You couldn't figure out what it meant.

Was Billy working for Blackbird? Had he helped someone take control of Wilson's assets?

You shake your head, not wanting to jump to conclusions, not after he told you he'd been trying to get out.

You raise your head when you hear his angry tone through the door.

"I told you not to transfer anything directly to me! God. You're a fucking idiot and now I can't use it because it'll be traced back."

His voice goes low, and though you can't hear his words clearly. You know he's issuing a threat.

It's his tone of voice that makes you begin to question everything. It's like you're trying to build a puzzle but you're missing crucial pieces.

You sit on it for days. It makes you nauseous.

You're kneeling behind him, carefully peeling back the bandage on his back.

"Does it hurt?" You ask, trying to be as gentle as possible.

The wound is small. Held together by careful stitches. Some of the finest work money can buy. There'll barely be a scar when it's fully healed.

"It pinches every now and then," Billy says, "but honestly the kevlar took a lot of the force."

You knew that. The bullet had stopped an inch deep in his back, nothing major had been damaged. A flesh wound by all means.

A bullet he'd taken for you.

You take your time cleaning it, making sure there's no significant heat or redness around the area- signs of infections- before carefully redressing.

"I think those stitches can come out real soon." You say, and you hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah doc? I'm gonna make it? Thank god." He reaches back with his good arm to grip your thigh affectionately.

"I thought I was a goner."

You try to smile, but all you can hear is the shot going off, watching him hit the floor.

It's like he knows what you're thinking.

"It was all for show. You know that right?"

"Yeah." You say hoarsely. He'd said that before. It didn't mean that it didn't feel real.

It didn't mean that he hadn't taken a bullet for you.

"What if he'd aimed for your head?" You ask softly.

Billy turns, interrupting your careful placement of gauze.

His eyes are understanding, warm, he cups your cheeks and you can't meet his eyes.

"We can play the 'what if' game for eternity. It doesn't matter what could have happened. It matters what did." You let out a pained sigh at his words.

"I'd take a bullet in the head for you though. No question."

"Don't say that." You whine, fighting back tears.

"I mean it too. But that doesn't mean I won't do everything in my power to make sure that never happens."

You sniffle. Leaning forward to press your head into his bare chest.

You feel him kiss the top of your head.

"That's love, baby. I know what that feels like now. Because of you."

Your eyes squeeze shut, savouring the moment, his hand wrapped around you.

"I mean," you try to argue after a little while, "don't you love Frank too?"

"Yeah but in a different way you brat." He huffs, "You almost make me want to take it back."

"No!" You protest, "Don't take it back, I love you so much too."

He huffs, pulling you closer.

"Okay okay I won't take it back. I love you and this is the first time I've ever loved like this and my therapist thinks you should know that I don't actually know what I'm doing so that you can be more patient with me."

You let out a laugh.

"She didn't actually say that, did she?"

He grunts.

"She might as well have," he says, raising the pitch of his voice to do an impression of a woman, "Tell her how you feel, Billy, that you've never seen what a real relationship is supposed to look like and that means you're gonna make simple mistakes and that scares you."

You let out a little laugh.

"Is this your way of telling me how you feel?" You ask.

"Yes," he says in his normal voice, "because I still haven't learned how to talk about my feelings."

You nod, placing a kiss to his chest.

"Baby steps."

"Please let me kill him." Billy begs, dropping into Frank's office couch.

"No, Billy." Frank says, in a tone that tells how exhausted he is with that topic.

"He fucked up my plans! He's an idiot. I'm begging you."

"We talked about this." Frank continues to clean his guns calmly. "We don't kill people for fucking up. We're better than that."

Billy huffs, the man in question had made the mistake of transferring money directly from Blackbird to Anvil. The real estate Billy had bought for his main modus operandi had been connected straight to him.

He couldn't use it now, he'd have to find another place to distribute from.

"I bet Micro wants him dead too. Can't imagine he was excited to find out."

"Billy." Frank warns, and he pouts dramatically.

Frank laughs.

"You know why we're doing this. I don't need to remind you." Frank says.

The thought sobers him. He sighs, nodding his head. They were doing this to keep the people they loved safe. Because if you were the most powerful man in the city, no one would try to take what was yours.

"Alright, I'll start looking around for other options. But I want him silenced and fired."

Frank gives a tired shake of his head.

"Sure."

"Nice. Love you, Frankie."

"Get out of my office, Russo."

Billy laughs, doesn't move an inch from his spot on Frank's couch.

You're glad to see your parents readjusting to life in the city. Though, they'd had to downsize their apartment a little since your father had decided to stop participating in the shady side of business.

It was good for them, you think, they'd be safer, especially since Kingpin was dead.

Which was one of the reasons you'd agreed to sit with them through brunch, a little curious to see if they'd heard of any new players on the streets, but you were still trying to figure out how to work it into the conversation.

Any searches for Blackbird Enterprises online came up as a dead end. There was only a single hollow website, claiming to be a consultancy company, naming a David Linus as CEO, not even a picture to go along with the title.

It had made you worried. What was Billy into now?

"Do you want eggs?" You mom asks, browsing over the menu, while your dad stepped away from the table.

"Oh god no." You murmur, the very thought making you nauseous, "I've been having trouble with eggs lately." You admit to her. The thought of Billy being back in danger doing numbers on your stomach.

You mom looks up from the menu suspiciously.

"When was your last period?" She asks.

You freeze.

"A month ago. Why? You think-" You couldn't even voice the words.

She looks back down at the menu casually.

"You should take a test."

You lean forward.

"Like a- a pregnancy test? Mom. I'm not pregnant."

She raises her eyebrows, tilts her head.

"Then a test couldn't hurt, now could it?"

"No-no- but it's unlikely. I've only been nauseous because I heard that someone new was taking over Kingpin's work. Do you know anything?"

She finally looks up again, snapping the menu shut.

"Your father was telling me he heard talks of a new player, yeah. How did you find out?"

You couldn't mention Billy, she'd be too quick to condemn him before you'd even have all the information.

"Just something I heard on Karen’s voicemail. A company."

"Blackbird."

You lean in closer.

"So it's true? There's someone taking over?" You think you were going to be sick.

Were you safe? Were your parents?

Was Billy?

"Don't get involved trying to figure out what's going on. Blackbird is more dangerous than Wilson Fisk ever was. They're everywhere, and I've heard that even The Hand avoids them."

"The Hand?" You ask, confused.

She waves your question away.

"Another syndicate. My point is, go to a pharmacy, buy a couple of tests, and go home. Stop thinking about Blackbird."

But how could you stop after a warning so ominous?

You take her advice though, stopping in the most questionable drug store and buying a handful of pregnancy tests. You pick the quietest store in hopes that no one recognises you, and the purchase goes successfully.

Instead of going home, you go to Anvil. You take two steps into his office and you don't give him much time to react before you wedge your body into his arms.

You're wound tight with tension, but one deep breath in his arms and your body relaxes.

"Everything okay?" Billy asks, concerned.

You squeeze him tighter and he returns the tight hold with one of his own.

He's yours, and no one is going to take him away from you.

"I'm fine." You say with a sniffle, finally raising your head to look up at him.

"Just- filled with painful memories. Can I use your bathroom?"

He kisses the top of your head.

"Sure baby. I'm right here."

Negative.

And the breath you were holding rushes out of you.

It almost seems funny now, considering that your hand was shaking so badly ten minutes ago when you were peeing on the stupid stick. The longest ten minutes of your life, all for a blue negative sign.

You huff, stuffing the test back into the box and discarding it. You don't bother to take a second test, satisfied that you're fine, and there's one crises averted.

You wash your hands, stepping out of the bathroom, and heading down the little hallway that joins to his office.

Billy's sitting at his desk, on his laptop typing when you re-enter his office.

"So, I'm not pregnant." You say on a heavy breath and you watch Billy pause mid key stroke. You let out an awkward laugh with the comical way he looks up at you.

He's out of his chair in seconds, taking you into his arms swiftly.

"Oh baby, is that why you were so scared earlier?"

"Yeah." You say, a little sob following, and then the dam breaks.

You'd been trying to be brave about it, but you were relieved. Having a baby was a scary thought and such a big responsibility for you.

"I thought you were getting fitted for an implant?" He asks, his cheek resting on the top of your head.

"I- made an appointment, but I've been sick lately and mom just made me worry about it."

Billy makes a sound of apology, pulling you to lean against him as he props himself against his desk.

When you can catch a hold of the flood of emotions inside you, he tilts your head up, wiping at your cheeks.

"Would a baby be so bad?" He asks, and you sniffle, deep in thought.

"No," You admit to him, "but it's scary."

"I'm not scared." He says, and you look up at him with hopeful eyes, his fingers play with the hair framing your face.

"You're not?"

"I was... but... nothing's scary with you."

You give him a watery smile.

"Therapy's really doing you good, hmm?"

He grins. Pulling you closer and dipping his head for a quick kiss.

"Sorry, I just got overwhelmed. And then mom mentioned this new company called Blackbird-"

"Really?" He interrupts in a curious tone.

Your body goes stiff, and you meet his eyes.

"Yeah. They're apparently taking over Wilson's old dealings. Have you encountered them before?"

You knew the answer to the question, but you needed to hear him say it. You needed to see if he would lie to your face.

"Yeah, I- bought a dive bar from them recently. I was trying to venture out. I thought something was up, got my own suspicions about their legitimacy. I'm trying to distance myself from them now in case the feds think I'm involved."

Oh.

That was a reasonable answer.

And just like that, the last pit in your stomach unravels.

There really was nothing to worry about, was there?

You laugh, snuggling closer into him.

"I love you so fucking much." You say on a sigh, squeezing him tighter.

"I love you so fucking much too." Billy agrees, "But now I can't stop thinking about you swollen with my baby and now I wanna put one there."

You make a little giggle of amusement.

"Not that I'm saying yes... but I'm not opposed to some practice."

"Oh really?" He asks, smiling as he presses his lips you yours.

It doesn't last long, before there's someone knocking at his door, and his secretary is telling him that his three o'clock meeting is here.

You smile at his apologetic look.

"It's okay, Billy, I'll see you at home, yeah?"

"Nooooo," he complains, "wait outside for me? This shouldn't take too long."

You laugh, agreeing to his request.

It's where Frank finds you five minutes later.

He gives you a big hug, and you laugh, happily returning his affection.

He starts off with checking in on you, and then the conversation spins in the direction of the wedding.

"We're thinking about moving it up. Too excited you know?"

You smile, nodding along, except you didn't know. You'd never be excited for a wedding ever again.

"Anytime you guys decide- and I'm there." You say, grinning up at him.

You chat for a little bit about useless wedding commentary, before the conversation spins again, to complaining about Billy.

"The man's a pain in my ass and I don't know how you manage. He sat on my couch the other day and wouldn't leave until I told him I loved him."

You laugh happily.

"That's progress." You argue, and Frank rolls his eyes and begrudgingly agrees.

"Blackbird's come far from when we first met, and that's all thanks to you."

Your smile drops.

"Blackbird?" You ask, your heart freezing to solid ice inside your chest.

"Yeah, it was his codename back in the military. He never mentioned?"

Act like nothing's wrong. Act like nothing's wrong.

You let out a little laugh. You wonder if Frank can see through the façade.

"No, he never said. What was your codename?"

You don't even hear his response.

"You okay?" Frank asks when he notices your spaced out expression.

You blink back into reality.

"Yeah. Yeah!" You raise a hand to scratch at your eyebrow. "Sorry, I just realised I was supposed to check in with a florist from across the city. Hope you don't mind if I cut this short."

"That's alright. I'll see you around?"

You smile.

"Yeah." You agree, heading towards the elevator, wishing him farewell.

You press the down button forcefully, begging the elevator to open up faster.

You can hear Billy's office door open, his voice getting louder as he speaks with someone.

The elevator door slides open.

It takes him walking around the corner curiously, and catching sight of you running away, for the pieces to fall perfectly into place.

Your face is stoic, borderlined angry, he looks confused for a moment, before his features settle into understanding.

As the elevator doors close, you finally come to the shocking reality.

That Billy Russo was the new Kingpin.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #billy russo smut #the agony of desire

276 notes · View notes

real-jane · 2 years

Text

burritos and bandages

[steve rogers x fem!reader]

summary: steve has a run-in with your ex-fiancé, which requires some tlc... and the aftermath reveals some sweet and long-held secrets.

words: 4k

warnings: steve v high on pain meds, cuddly steve, canon level fist-fight/aftermath, enough fluff to keep your dentist in business for 100 years

a/n: This is the sequel to bug and bear! steve's a firefighter, that is unimportant but it is briefly mentioned. this idea came from a post sent to me by @thornsnvultures <3

To say that your mother is angry when you tell her your wedding is off would be to discount the tenderness of hearing her admit ‘I never did like how he talks to you, sweetheart,’... but she still makes you call every single guest the next day to call things off officially, and all the vendors, and the burden of paying the cancellation fees for the photographer falls squarely into your wallet. It’s worth it, though, especially to see her face change from stress to joy a week later, as Steve floats into view behind you on video chat to give a bashful wave.

“Honey,” she says to you, with one eyebrow cocked. “Is there something else you wanna tell me?”

Steve squeezes your shoulders. “Hey, Mama.” His cheek is pressed against your temple as he greets your mother.

“Hi Stevie. Are you taking care of our girl?”

He chuckles. “You know I am.”

“Good boy. Anything you want me to share with Sarah?”

“Mom–” you groan, but Steve kisses your cheek.

“Tell her I need Elaine’s ring,” he mock-whispers, cupping his hands over your ears. You roll your eyes, but your heart is in your throat because your mother instantly bursts into tears. You hug Steve’s arms as they surround you, as if to hug her, too.

She’s angry because she’s been so stressed out trying to rationalize your relationship with Brock for the last decade, and she’s angry that she didn’t get through to you about Steve ages ago, and mostly, she’s angry that she bought a dress she can’t wear anymore. But it’s not real anger, it’s just shock. Your mother is thrilled. When you tell her in excruciating detail about what made you decide to call things off–how something as simple as standing on Steve’s shoes in a dance lesson gave you clarity–her tears turn into an unsuppressable smile. She can’t stop shaking her head in amazement, and when Steve leaves you so he can run down and greet someone at the buzzer, she tells you how proud she is that you listened to your heart.

It’s not that you need her approval, but having it makes the rash decision feel like an inevitability which everyone but you counted on since you’d first said yes to marrying Brock Rumlow. It’s embarrassing, knowing that the two people you care about the most (and maybe more) don’t like your former fiancé, but you’ll get over it eventually. Especially living with your bear.

“Bug…?” he calls, and a heavy knock falls on the front door. You frown.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Mom. Okay? Love you.” You exchange a blown kiss with your mother and hang up. The second you reach the door, you gasp, because Steve is leaning against the doorframe bleeding from the eyebrow. His cheekbone is already purple. He glances up at you, but his hair flops over his forehead and he winces.

“What the fuck?” You swing the door wide for him to enter. His keys are clutched in his fist but his hands are shaking.

“Hi, baby,” he breathes. “Brock brought a bag for you.” He vaguely waves at an overstuffed reusable IKEA bag on the landing behind him, and attempts to put a hand on your shoulder, but he’s too dizzy. He misses your shoulder completely. You catch him around the waist and ease him to sit against the wall, just inside the door.

“Jesus, what did he do to you?” you gasp, forcing him to look you in the eyes.

“Wailed on me. He only got in three hits before he ran off.” Steve’s eyebrow has already stopped bleeding, but his eyelid is so swollen, he can barely open it. “I think I have a steak in the freezer.”

“You want me to put a raw steak on your face?” You hiccough a pained laugh.

“I’ll cook it and we’ll forget this ever happened.” He closes his eyes, and leans his head back against the wall. You kneel on either side of his legs and inspect him for any other signs of where he might be hurt, but it’s just his face which bore the brunt of Brock’s unhinged attack. Steve’s fingers curl around your thighs when you sigh. “He blamed me,” Steve says softly. “Said you were happy. ‘Til I put ideas in your head.”

Your hurt squeezes. “Right,” you breathe. “Happy.” You can’t stop yourself from pressing your lips to Steve’s forehead. “Bear–”

“Hmm.” His head lists to the side.

“Let me take you to the ER–”

“No,” he scoffs, eyes still firmly closed and fingers gripping your legs for dear life, “just been a long time since I took a haymaker to the face. I’ll be okay.”

“Steven–you might have a concussion! Or bones floating in your sinuses. Or a detached retina. You might swallow too much blood in your sleep and choke to death–”

He coughs. “No more CSI, ma’am.”

“I’ll drive.”

“Not in your death trap–”

“Your car. Please? I will keep you up all night long if you don’t let me take you. Huh? Is that what you want? For me to lose precious sleep?”

“You are so pushy. It’s like you and…” he opens his eyes a fraction of an inch and closes them again. “You and your twin, there, don’t even care that I’m fine.”

You poke him in the shoulder. “Either I take you, or I call 911 and four guys with a stretcher carry you down six flights of stairs.”

Steve sighs. “So, this is what I get for loving a worrier.” But he smiles, despite his clear pain, and nods faintly. “You win, bugs.”

–

Close to midnight, you stumble back into your apartment with a drugged-up blond on one arm, and several shopping bags full of supplies on the other. Steve’s objectively fine; no broken bones, no internal bleeding, just a bruised cheekbone. And three stitches in his eyebrow. But the doctor gave him strong medicine for the pain, and told him to sleep it off.

You’re exhausted, but he has enough medicine coursing through his system to fell a Clydesdale and he’s loopy. His cheek is pressed against your hair, despite being far taller than you, and he’s humming. All while you attempt to bring the bags into the kitchen, which are full of things he picked out from the bodega on the corner for dinner. Why he needed three bags of Funyons, only drugged-up Steve could say.

“”M gonna cook, what do you want?” he asks, nosing your hairline. “My bugsy. Buggy.” He chuckles. “You smell good.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, pushing him back until he’s braced against the cabinets in the corner. “Can you stay standing?”

“So good at standing. Watch me.” He points at his feet. “Doin’ it right now. See that?”

“Very impressive.” You can’t help but laugh. “Do you want your onions?” The yellow and green bag swings from your fingers.

“I want a burrito?”

“What flavor?” You dig through the bag that he crammed FULL of microwavable frozen burritos. “Nevermind. Your only choice is chicken.”

“Chicken is the only kind in the world.” He snorts. “Hey. I can do it.”

“No–” You hold up your hands to keep him from listing forward. He leans into your touch happily. “No operating heavy machinery, remember?”

“Pssh. I’m a professional.”

“What are you gonna tell the chief on Wednesday?”

“Got in a fight,” he shrugs. “My girlfriend’s chickenshit fiancé tried to get me back for stealin’ her away, and I told him he couldn’t talk to her, so he punched me, and then she bought me chicken burritos.”

“Wait–” You freeze with a burrito in each fist and wheel on him. “He asked to talk?”

Steve looks down at his shoes and toes the tile. “He was yelling. I told him he can’t yell at you.”

“Steven Rogers. You didn’t say he wanted to talk–”

“Well he didn’t. He just wanted to be mean, and I’m protecting you.”

“I–” You stop for a second and take a deep breath. “We’ll talk about this when you’re not high as a kite.”

“You mad?” Those hands like catcher’s mitts slide around your waist and he noses your neck. You sigh, but you accept the embrace.

“Yes.”

“Why, buggy?”

“Because you don’t get to decide whether or not I can handle something. I would’ve probably agreed to talk to him for a second, regardless of whether or not he was mean. I’m a big girl.”

“Mmm,” he groans. “I know. You’re the smartest girl. You’re a woman though, baby, a smart woman and I know that.”

“Ooookay,” you sigh, leaving the conversation behind for the morning. “How many burritos do you want?”

“Three.”

“You gonna let go of me, so I can heat them up?”

Steve reluctantly does so, and then he stumbles towards the living room. “Pajamas!” He calls over his shoulder. You rub your face in frustration… less with him than with Brock.

But you admit to yourself that some of that frustration is a little bit with Steve, too.

He’s going to have to get used to just being your partner–not your knight. You don’t need him to fulfill the silent protector role that he’s used to, because he couldn’t be at your side. Now, he’s the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, which comes with a certain amount of trust in you to handle your own shit. And a little more softness. Calling off your wedding, even to someone like Brock, has been much harder on you than you let on.

Even though you don’t want Brock, you still grieve the change in the life you had planned.

It isn’t rational, and it hurts in a way that you’ll ultimately grow to appreciate, once that pang turns into healing… and you want Steve. But it doesn’t make it easier to make a hundred personal calls to explain that you’re no longer marrying the man you’ve been seeing for a decade, and have to listen to every single person give you their condolences–authentic or not.

The microwave beeps. You pull the plate out and set it on the table. “Bear?”

Your man returns to the kitchen, sans shirt, still in his jeans, missing a sock… looking bewildered, and carrying one of his signature black moleskin notebooks. You can’t help but giggle at his state.

“Get lost out there?” you ask. His expression brightens and he patters over until he’s toe-to-toe with you.

“I think this will make you not mad,” he whispers, handing you the notebook. He swipes the plate from the table and attempts to wink with the eyeball he can’t open… which results in him bobbing his head and then grinning with more teeth than usual. Steve disappears into the living room, leaving you to inspect his peace offering.

It looks like the one he always has in his back pocket, but it’s the next size larger. The cover has a year crudely carved into it and you frown. That can’t be right. Why would a notebook from your senior year of high school make you ‘not mad?’

Opening the cover is like taking a step into a chamber of Steve Roger’s heart, and finding treasure. Your face stares back at you, from page one, sketched in faded mechanical pencil. Every shadow on your young face is smudged in by a deft finger, and your eyes… they sparkle. You’re not sure if your eyes have ever done that in real life, but somehow, a sketch communicates just such a thing. The lines which make up your mouth are softer, the shading finer. Like most of his time was spent on forming your soft close-lipped smile. At the bottom right corner are his initials–S.G.R.--and the year, once again.

The backside of that page? You.

Next: You, looking over your shoulder.

Then, your profile while you read.

A whole page is dedicated just to your eyes.

His first car, the pickup truck you used to set your watch by as it rumbled awake every morning.

And then… you, again.

The entire sketchbook, save an odd drawing of a squirrel (noted as ‘Bucky’s Long-Lost Brother’), a scratched-out self portrait, and several pages of football plays… it’s filled with sketches of You.

“Steve?” you peep.

His face appears around the doorway, looking sheepish. You swallow hard. “I’m… I’m not mad,” you manage. It’s the only way you can verbalize the genuine shock of seeing your image immortalized by his hand. “This is really lovely.”

He stuffs his hands in his jeans and shrugs. “Just love you, ‘s all.”

“You drew me… a lot,” you laugh in disbelief, flipping again to the front page. Steve stands before you and nods.

“Pretty much all my pencil ever wanted to do,” he says.

“No wonder you almost failed Trig.”

He chuckles. “I have about… six more of those spanning the last ten-ish years. You feature heavily in them all. Except recently, I…” he shakes his head. “Couldn’t look at you on paper like that, knowing you were slipping away from me.”

“Bear, how have I never known that you draw like this?” You press your hand to his chest. He grasps your wrist.

“You didn’t know that I loved you back then, either. Only two secrets I ever kept from you.”

“How long?”

“Have I drawn you?”

“Yeah.”

Steve holds your face between his palms like he’s still seeing double, but he appears at least a little more lucid than he was earlier. Or maybe, talking about you is something that comes so easily to him, he can do it with far too much morphine running through his body. Either way, he’s taken with the feeling of your skin under his thumbs.

“Never could get your cheeks right,” he murmurs. “But, um. When I was really little, I used to draw a girl. She was my age, and she was my imaginary friend. Every picture, I drew her. Same hair color every time. And then we moved, and I met you. And I dunno. Just made sense that I’d been drawing you all along, so. I got better at it once the girl wasn’t imaginary anymore.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “I think Mr. Lee knew how I felt about you by junior year, considering my final portrait subject was you for the third year in a row,” Steve admits, cheeks immediately reddening.

“No,” you gasp behind your fingers. “You’re serious–”

“Buggy,” he laughs. “I thought for sure you were gonna catch me at it. Why do you think I never wanted you to come to the art show?”

“...I thought you were bad,” you admit, which elicits the biggest laugh you’ve heard from him in a long time. He has to lean on the wall to stay upright. “Don’t laugh!” You’re smiling, regardless. “The way you see me, bear… I don’t look like this!” You hold up the sketch and Steve takes the notebook from your hands gingerly.

“Of course not. That was teenage bugsy. But–hold on–I’m fine!” He stumbles from dizziness, but catches himself on the doorframe. He darts into the living room again, and this time you follow. He drops onto his knees as if he hasn’t injured both of them repeatedly since joining the firehouse, and peruses the bottom shelf of his bookcase until he finds what he’s searching for. Then, Steve grabs a smaller notebook, still black, with the current year stamped into the front. The one you gave him for Christmas last year. He flips frantically through the pages, and then holds it up.

“This is you.”

And it is, but it’s you through the eyes of a man who has been drawing you for so many years that he’s an expert on every little freckle and fine line in your skin, who looks at you and sees a future so precious that he’s willing to take three solid punches to the face for you. The portrait is you, yes, but it’s the most true version of who you are. Nobody knows you better than Steve, or sees you more clearly. Mirrors lie, by comparison. Your face is a decade older in this portrait, but you’ve never felt so beautiful.

The image blurs, and you hold a hand out to him, cupping the other over your mouth as the waterworks start. He crawls to you, reminding you that he’s still probably feeling the morphine, and hugs you with his cheek against your soft belly.

“Wanna give you my grandma Elaine’s ring,” he says softly. “I wasted time making love to the idea of you on paper instead of getting brave and telling you, and I almost lost you.”

“How high are you?” You ask, though you feel the sincerity in your soul.

“Marry me.” It’s the first time he’s said it explicitly, even though he as good as asked that very question the night you decided to call things off with Brock. You had all but accepted, too. But it was a lot to decide while he was recovering from a beating and still fighting delirium, and the thought of even planning such a thing so soon made you wince.

You tug on his hair so he tilts his head back to meet your gaze. “Ask me again in the morning.”

“What will you say?”

You snicker, trying to swipe away your tears on your sleeve. “The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you’ll find out.”

“But… my burritos.” He looks pitiful as he gestures to the plate which he had abandoned on the coffee table.

“Eat. I’m gonna go lay down.”

You take the journal with you into the bedroom you now share with Steve, and change into one of his t-shirts to sleep in. You wait for him to come in, all the while pondering the portrait he insists is who you really are, now. Next thing you’re aware of, the journal is being pulled out from under your fingers as you blink awake to the image of Steve Rogers with his cell phone hovering over your face, as he un-surreptitiously takes a photo of you glaring at him. He looks at the screen and frowns.

“Go back to sleep!” He whispers.

“Can you lay down please?” You yank on his elbow. He flops onto the covers beside you and tucks his good cheek against your shoulder. “You’re creepy,” you yawn.

“But you’re so cute.” His voice is muffled.

“You’re going to be embarrassed in the morning.” Rolling onto your side, you adjust so both your arms cradle him cautiously, avoiding his poor swollen eyeball.

“Why? You’re not ashamed of me, are ya?”

Your heart lurches and you kiss his forehead gently. “No. Of course not. I love you.”

“Even when I’m high?” Steve shakes with laughter when you groan.

“Yes, bear. Even then.”

—

In the morning, Steve is appropriately mortified, the more you tell him about his behavior on too much morphine, but at least he can open his eye again. He is so embarrassed, in fact, that he runs down the street to pick you up breakfast from a brunch place you like to make up for it, and forces you to remain in bed in order to eat it. When you’re both settled under the covers again, trading bites of fruit and french toast, you lean your head on his shoulder in contentment. Some of that time is spent inspecting his most recent portrait of you in the light of day, and marveling again at how he managed to capture the uncapturable.

“Hey,” he whispers, pointing at you with a slice of strawberry on the end of his fork. You look up at him in question and his lips graze yours. He deepens the kiss, sweetly kissing the powdered sugar from your lips. “Can I marry you?�� He asks. You smile, nodding just once. Steve brushes your cheekbone. “Are you sure?”

“Only if you are.”

He kisses you with a nod himself, and then leans over to open his bedside table drawer. “I, um. I asked my ma for the ring a while ago. But if it doesn’t fit you, then we can find something else.”

“Okay.”

The reality of sharing breakfast and a bed, and sweet kisses with your best friend while he asks you if you’ll marry him settles over you like a warm blanket, and the sweetness intensifies when he produces an octagonal box. He rests the box on your knee and waits.

“I should wash my hands,” you breathe. He rolls his eyes and tugs your left wrist into his lap. He thumbs the latch open.

“Do you remember meeting my grandma?” he asks.

You do, distinctly. She was a doe-eyed glamorous woman who had taken one look at you in the Rogers family living room at Christmastime and gushed over you. You smile. “She was so sweet,” you say.

“She loved you. I think she would’ve been so happy to see this on your finger, sweetheart. As I will be. May I?”

“Yeah.” Your heart races as he opens the lid, revealing the very ring he described to you one week prior, garnet and all. Elaine’s initials are ingrained in the band just as he said. And it slides right onto your finger so perfectly, it could have been made for you.

He breathes out slowly. “Holy shit, bug,” he says in awe. You laugh.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re gonna make every dream I ever had come true.”

“Awe.” You carefully set your takeout container on your bedside and then throw your knees over his legs so you can be as close to him as possible. He hugs you tight. When your fingers thread into his messy morning hair, he sighs. “You’re gonna make new dreams with me, bear.”

“I like the sound of that.” He rubs your back. You snuggle up to his chest and listen to his heart beating.

“Wonder what Brock brought,” you ponder out loud.

Steve snorts. “Just a bunch of your clothes. And the mug I got you for your birthday.”

You sit back in surprise. “Oh! All that was worth punching you for?”

“Pssh. I bought that boot mug in the Dallas airport, when you were devastated I wasn’t gonna make it back for your birthday. It’s obviously very precious.”

“Thank god he returned it,” you snicker. “How ya feeling, slugger?” He allows you to gently palpate the area around his stitches, but he winces the closer you get to his cheekbone bruise.

“Fine… I called him while I was out.” He winces again at your shocked frown. “I know–”

“You didn’t let him off the hook.”

“No, no. I told him I’d send him my hospital bill.” Steve touches your chin. “And that I won’t press charges, as long as he takes your name off whatever bills you were on, and leaves you alone.” You blink at him. He laughs. “I know. I’m also surprised with myself.”

“I–he wouldn’t put anything under my name,” you say softly. “You’re gonna have to put me on your lease!”

“Would you like that? If there’s mail addressed to both of us?”

“Yeah. Bear?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you. Even when you’re high and loopy, and I still would even if you had let Brock off the hook.” You kiss his brow, just above his stitches. “I love that you’re kinda a creep–”

“Is this you practicing your vows, or…”

You doff his shoulder. “I just want you to know, okay?”

“I love you, bug.”

Your shared kiss speaks deeply of the relationship from whence this arrangement was born, and the inevitability of spending your life with the one person who gives it meaning. There’s a new type of intimacy with it, even deeper than skin and touch. Deeper than the first night you spent with him, sharing bodies in a way that both of you had yearned for for so long that it felt sacred.

Steve pulls back from you when air becomes a necessity. He inspects the ring on your finger with a peaceful smile, and then his gaze darts up to meet yours. He narrows his eyes.

“Did you buy me like twenty-five chicken burritos last night?” he asks incredulously. You laugh until your stomach hurts.

–

thanks for reading! :)

Kate’s masterlist - Marvel Masterlist

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n

433 notes · View notes

loth-moth · 9 months

Text

König - Canon

Speech and Accent in Canon

A quick note to start off; as König speaks a Standard High German in game I will be focusing primarily on that. ( For further context on why German sounds the way it does I may make a future post about German and Austrian Speech with some examples and context - I will link it when I do.) Just know the German alphabet is pronounced slightly differently than English and varies from dialect to dialect.

Lets start with the most important - König (kö·nich)

Ö - being pronounced somewhere between spoon and flute.

Ch - being similar an extended h- .

Know that peoples accents will vary depending on their proficiency and origins. From his voice lines his accent and phonetics -

His English is clear on his D and W. I know that D = Z/S and W = V are common confusions for some German-English speakers and I understand that they're an easier way to convey such an accent in writing but they don't apply here.

Notable accent quirks he does exhibit are;

Over annunciation of H like in "veHicle'

"DZ Marked" - 'Dae Zet Markt' - this should only come up when pronouncing these letters individually.

The German R is pronounced as a trill made at the back of the throat and he does this often.

Occasionally he will drop and -er to a lighter -ah and a th- to a more natural d-.

"Giergah Here" - " Enemies in die AO"

He does frequently use short/voiceless endings where words ending in D/ED get dropped short and sound closer to a T.

"Enemy Downt" - "Enemy Markt"

Though he does not seem to do this for voiced S endings: EYES = ICE.

Contractions (words like "We're" and "It's") are just as common in German as in English but do not have any common forms for "I am" or "it is" and this usually will carry over to English where some German speakers will not use "I'm" or "it's"

König does use 'is' contractions like "the door's jammed".

He switches between "I'll take the armour" "I Will take the key-card" in casual language so either works.

Any other German Dialect speakers feel free to contribute or reach out to me if you have any insight or would like me to add or adjust anything. I would also love to hear your insight and experiences for a German - Austrian Language and Culture post I've been working on.

QP Multiplayer Voicelines

Canon Appearance and Biography Height, Age, Rank and Affiliation Anxiety and Personality*

#Loth-Moth Resources #cod mwii #kortac #könig #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod modern warfare #linguistics #languagelearning #deutsch #german language #austrian german #Österreichisches Deutsch #Österreich

30 notes · View notes

demifiendrsa · 2 months

Text

ATLUS has moved up Shin Megami Tensei V: Vengeance from its previously planned June 21, 2024 release date to June 14, 2024.

Shin Megami Tensei V: Vengeance will be available for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S, PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Switch, and PC via Steam and Microsoft Store.

Latest details

■ What is Shin Megami Tensei V: Vengeance?

Released in 2021, ATLUS’s renowned RPG Shin Megami Tensei V has sold more than 1 million copies worldwide.

This highly acclaimed title has evolved in every aspect, including the system and scenario, and will be available on multiple modern platforms!

At the beginning of the story, the player is presented between two routes. The story told in Shin Megami Tensei V, the Canon of Creation, and a brand-new route, Canon of Vengeance, a dramatic tale of revenge by the fallen.

The Canon of Vengeance follows the scenario of Shin Megami Tensei V, but changes drastically from the latter half of the game. The outcome will be completely different. Enjoy the two divergent stories to your heart’s content.

The battle system, demon fusion, and field exploration have also evolved in depth with the addition of new elements. We are excited to deliver a full-fledged RPG that can be enjoyed by those who have already played Shin Megami Tensei V, as well as those who are playing this series for the first time.

■ Story

Thou shalt be God—

When a grisly murder scene in modern-day Tokyo blocks our protagonist’s walk home, an unplanned detour leaves him buried and unconscious. He awakens in a new Tokyo, a wasteland ravaged by apocalypse now called Da’at… but before bloodthirsty demons can claim his life, a savior emerges, and the two of them unite to become a mighty being, neither human nor demon: a Nahobino.

Revenge Awaits

Demons attack humans and seek to create a world of chaos. Bethel, an organization that seeks to protect God’s order. Caught up in the conflict between the two, while exploring Da’at, the protagonist meets and starts traveling with Yoko Hiromine. Using magic, Yoko and the main character stand together on the front line.

The Qadistu, four female Demons stand in their way. “Found it, the Key of Resurrection……” A member of the Qadistu, Lilith, calls protagonist the Key of Resurrection, and herself The Oppressed. What is their purpose? A tale of revenge by the oppressed begins.

■ Characters

Tao Isonogami (voiced by Jeanine Tirado in English, Hayami Saori in Japanese)

“You were ready to do whatever it took to protect someone you care about. I know exactly how that feels.”

Tao is a classmate of the protagonist and a member of the high school lacrosse club. Friendly and caring.

She has possessed a strong spiritual sense since when she was young and has been assisting Bethel Japan as their “saint.” She supports the protagonist once he joins Bethel.

In combat, Bethel Japan as their “saint”, she specializes in healing and support skills.

Yuzuru Atsuta (voiced by Mark Whitten in English, Kaito Ishikawa in Japanese)

“Innocent people get born into pain they can’t escape and don’t deserve. What do you call that but proof that our world’s fundamentally broken?”

Yuzuru is a friend of the protagonist.

Holding a strong sense of justice, he joins Bethel as a temporary unit to fight demons and protect his sister Miyazu.

He gains more power after visiting Da’at with the protagonist, reaffirming his commitment to fight for peace in Tokyo.

In battles, he wields the Demon Summoning Program to summon his loyal demon partner Hayataro as his demon partner.

Ichiro Dazai (voiced by Stuart Allan in English, Kishou Taniyama in Japanese)

“That angel taught me something truly important: you can’t rely on others to carry out your justice.”

Ichiro is a classmate of the protagonist. He has a cheerful personality but can often be rather tactless.

His grades are poor and often seen as “useless” at school.

As he livestreams himself as a hobby, he is dragged to Da’at after a tunnel collapse incident. Bethel recruits him to fight demons, to which he agrees as he believes that it’s for a noble cause. In battles, he uses unique demons such as Aitvaras and Mokoi as his demon partners.

Miyazu Atsuta (voiced by Ashlyn Madden in English, Ryou Hirohashi in Japanese)

“I refuse to hurt Tao anymore!”

Yuzuru’s younger sister and only relative. Shy and physically weak, she is a frequent visitor to the school nurse’s office.

She respects her brother and is worried about his involvement in Bethel.

Sahori Itsukishima (voiced by Erica Lindbeck in English, Lynn in Japanese)

“Demons are just like people too. There are good types and bad…”

Tao’s best friend and a former member of the lacrosse club.

A victim of bullying by her teammates, leaving her a vulnerable target for the demon Lahmu.

■ Demons

Naahmah (voiced by Kari Wahlgren in English, Shizuka Ito in Japanese)

“Now wail and lament! Your anguish shall become the Magatsuhi that I seek!”

One of the four female demons of the Qadistu, also known as the “Mother of Demons”. She is the most sensual and seductive of the four Qadistu, and her beauty is said to charm not only humans, but even Angels and Demons.

Eisheth Zenunim (voiced by Allegra Clark in English, Kimiko Saitou in Japanese)

“Now, tell me… what part of yourselves do you hate the most?”

One of the demons of the Qadistu, who seduces humans and leads them to their demise. In Jewish mythology, she is said to eat the souls of the fallen. Under the guise of salvation, she attacks humans and steals their souls.

Agrat bat Mahlat (voiced by Cherami Leigh in English, Reina Ueda in Japanese)

“So I shall dispense a punishment. May your existence be lost to darkness.”

A member of the Qadistu, she is also the “Queen of Demons.” Also known as “the demon who dances on the roof” and is said to wander through the air with her chariot and her train of messengers of destruction.

Glasya-Labolas

One of the 72 demons of King Solomon’s “Ars Goetia.” His form is that of a dog with griffin-wings. Bloodshed and murder, and can predict the future and make people invisible.

■ Gameplay

Press Turn Battle

The battles in this title features a command-based Press Turn Battle.

The Press Turn System rewards the player for exploiting the weaknesses of enemies. If you successfully hit an enemy with the skill type they are weak to, your party will gain an extra turn. The simple, yet tactically challenging battle system is still in place.

This title also offers various new skills and elements that expand the strategic nature of battles.

Striking an enemy’s weak point increases the number of Press Turn icons in the upper right corner of the screen, allowing additional actions! If you keep targeting the weak points well, you can take up to 8 actions, for an unscathed victory.

A number of exclusive skills available only to certain demons have also been added!

■ Systems

Magatsuhi Skill

As the battle progresses, your actions will fill the Magatsuhi gauge. Once the Magatsuhi gauge is capped, you can use the special technique Magatsuhi skill.

Magatsuhi Skills have a variety of effects, including damaging enemies and support and healing skills. This title features more than 50 Magatsuhi skills, including more than 20 newly added to the game, such as ones only usable with certain demons.

Each skill has powerful abilities, so keep an eye out for opportunities to activate them in battle.

In addition to the Magatsuhi skills previously introduced in Shin Megami Tensei V, there are now skills that can be activated when there is a strong mythological relationship between two demons or when there are demons with the same alignment in the party!

Unique Skills

In this title, every demon has their own special passive skill, called Unique Skills.

Unique Skills may include those that increase the power of attack skills, provide powerful effects when a particular demon is present, or ones that are useful for demon conversation.

The combination of the demons allows the player to experience more tactical battles.

—Blessed Melody When active, your team’s power is enhanced when all allies exploit the target’s weakness with Light Skills.

—Four Heavenly Kings When summoned with a demon who has the Unique Skill “Four Heavenly Kings” as active, it will enhance its own abilities.

—Demonic Mediator When active and if a demon negotiation goes sour, your partner demon will intervene to mediate the conversation.

Demon Conversation

When attacked by a demon, you may be able to talk with them and potentially recruit them as an ally.

Each demon has a different personality and preference. In this title, more variations in the conversation are added, deepening the interaction.

Demons vary in temper and personality. If you can negotiate with them skillfully, they will become a supportive companion.

Certain negotiations may be interrupted by an ally demon in your party, triggering a unique interaction. Enjoy the special conversation between the related demons! You can enjoy conversations related to the relationship between the demons.

Sometimes, a demon may surprise you with a pop quiz! Show off your knowledge to impress them!

Guest Characters

As the story progresses, human guest characters may join the party and participate in battles. They can fight and use items in the same manner as demon allies. Use your companions and your demons to your advantage in battle.

Consecutive Encounters

After defeating an enemy demon, a new demon may appear and continue the battle. Although it will be a series of battles, winning may generate bonuses in Macca, EXP, and items earned.

The more demons that discover the protagonist, the more likely it is that a serial encounter will occur. It is also a good idea to aim for a large bonus by engaging in combat with enemies that are densely packed together.

19 notes · View notes