#mutually assured destruction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arealphrooblem · 1 year

Text

Mutually Assured Destruction Pt 2

THANK YOU SO MUCH to the huge response to this, I never expected that being so new to this circle of writers. I squealed at every like and reblog and comment.

Synopsis: Villain x Civilian. Civilian can sense other people's powers through auras but hides this ability. They are terrified of the most boring person at their office job, who hides the most powerful aura Civilian has ever felt.

Part 1 here. Tagging @heroes-villains-side-blog and @follow-me-into-the-fog

The taqueria was dimly lit with Formica tables and brightly colored murals of vaguely Mexican landscapes, which meant the tacos were obscenely good.

Civilian tried hard not to be grateful as they bit into their taco as delicately as they could, their fingers stained with the mess of the previous taco. Jonathan’s tacos, on the other hand, had remarkable structural integrity and did not break once.

“How are you doing that?” they blurted out.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as he dotted away taco grease with his napkin. “Doing what?”

“Your tacos don’t fall apart. How?”

“Perhaps that’s my power.” He smirked.

Civilian rolled their eyes, trying not to let the spike in their heart rate show on their face. So caught up in the surrealness of a dinner date, they had almost forgotten just what a precarious position they were in.

In fact, despite the blatant coercion to be here, this did not rank as the worst date Civilian ever had. Not even in the top ten. Jonathan paid for dinner, fetched napkins and extra beer, and allowed Civilian the space to quietly freak out while he ate in contented silence.

“I’ve never had a taco shell that didn’t break in my entire life, so I almost believe you.”

He gives them that same calculating stare he did in the elevator. “You’re not curious about what I can do?”

“No.” (A lie).

“Really? Not even a little?”

“I think knowing would make it worse.” (The truth).

Just knowing his aura has garnered too much attention as it was.

He smirked. “Afraid if you knew, I’d never let you go?”

Hearing their deepest fear voiced aloud caused a dizzy swoop in their gut. It wasn’t just Jonathan Civilian had to worry about. If anyone knew their true power, they would be a target to the Agency, to other villains, to the government. They could kiss their freedom goodbye.

Being “courted” by Jonathan was the least of their worries, and yet it meant the the threat of their freedom as a constant presence. If there was a chance Civilian could talk their way out of this arrangement, they had to take it.

Civilian swallowed. “You’re not actually serious about this, right? This fake dating thing?”

“Of course I’m serious.” He leaned forward across the table and Civilian unconsciously mirrored him. “I have certain plans in place. You are the one person who could disrupt them.”

“The last thing I want is to get involved with whatever the hell it is you’re doing,” Civilian hissed. “I’m not a hero.”

“There’s no way I can know right now that with any certainty. And so, until I do, you will have a very dedicated and considerate partner.”

Civilian bit back a groan as they imagined the kind of gossip this sudden relationship would inspire, especially since Civilian tried so hard to avoid Jonathan before. Wait a second . . .

“HR doesn’t allow workplace relationships,” they said triumphantly. “They would fire us.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he found Civilian’s protests amusing. “That rule only bans relationships between superiors and the people that work under them. It doesn’t apply to us. Don’t worry, I will file our relationship with HR tomorrow morning since tonight marks our first date.”

Shit damn fuck. Civilian could protest the relationship or they could report Jonathan to HR for stalking or harassment but that only puts a target on Civilian’s back for his retaliation. He could kill them or worse -- report them.

Mutually assured destruction.

Jonathan drains the rest of his beer before nodding to Civilian’s unfinished food.

“Let me get you a to-go box and we shall be on our way, then?”

He drove them back to the parking garage at work and walked Civilian to their car. Civilian wasted no time getting their keys out, gripped by the sudden fear that perhaps Jonathan would reconsider letting them walk free.

And indeed when his hand darted out and gripped their door before it could shut, Civilian’s heart leaped in their throat.

“You’re going to leave before our goodnight kiss?” he asked, his gaze expectant and serious.

“What?” Civilian choked.

He held that stare for a moment before an evil smirk broke across his face.

“The look on your face. I should be insulted at how abhorrent the thought is to you. Goodnight, Civilian. I will see you in the morning.”

A threat and a promise.

Civilian feels the weight of his stare all the way out to the streets.

Part Three Here

#my writing #not a prompt #mutually assured destruction #civilian x villain #villain x civilian #hero x villian #villain x hero #now with fake dating!

544 notes · View notes

juneofbones · 10 months

Text

My favorite ship dynamic is terrible person x terrible person

#mutually assured destruction #add your own #lonelyeyes #old man yaoi #hannigram #nandermo #shipping #fandom

269 notes · View notes

abiggerphrooblem · 8 months

Text

Five Times Jonathan Was a Gentleman

Synopsis:

“When have you ever been a gentleman?” they whined anyway.

His eyes flashed with another predatory look. “You have no idea how many times I’ve been a gentleman.”

-- Mutually Assured Destruction, Part 10

All the times Jonathan had very impure, ungentlemanly thoughts about civilian.

CW: Explicit thoughts about sex, some dark fantasies that edge into dubcon.

Part one

Jonathan was considered many things: utterly ruthless, mercurial, manipulative, greedy, paranoid. All traits society considered despicable and he considered necessary for survival. But one thing he and society could agree on was the importance of being a gentleman.

There was a distinct difference to him in hurting someone for kicks and hurting someone because it was necessary. And just because he was willing to do the latter didn’t mean any other time he couldn’t value manners and decorum.

But Civilian tested that theory ever since the first moment they spoke.

Of course, he had noticed Civilian long before the elevator ride. He noticed how much they noticed and yet no one noticed them. They had the exact unassuming, quiet aura he tried so hard to project, slipping underneath everyone’s attention. And yet Jonathan did not slip underneath theirs.

It drove him a little mad trying to figure out the reason why, assessing his behaviors, his look, his clothes, for any hint to his true nature. But he had never even spoken so much as a “good morning” to Civilian. They had no reason to avoid him and yet took great pains to do so.

It made that confrontation in the elevator so much sweeter for it.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing here and I don’t want to know. If I tell anyone about you, it will blow my secret too. So just . . . let me stay out of your way?” Civilian pleaded, the sweet sound of his victory. “Please?”

Having Civilian backed against the wall, feeling the jackrabbit beat of their heart, the breath stuttering in their lungs, the blood racing through their veins, he had a very ungentlemanly thought flare up in his mind.

He wondered what would happen if he leaned his body against theirs and kissed them. If they would let him, too afraid to stop him. If they would whimper, the sound vibrating in their throat.

If they would kiss back, pliant as putty against him.

A ridiculous thought, honestly, not to mention a little disturbing. He was a ruthless bastard, yes, but even he had limits of the kind of tactics he used for intimidation.

And yet, when he opened his mouth again, the offer of a date came spilling out, unprompted and unplanned. Of course, after his split second of horrified shock, he spun into a perfectly logical plan, so airtight he almost fooled himself.

That evening he paid for dinner, let them set the pace and boundaries for conversation, and escorted them to their car, because he was a gentleman. Deep down. In his own way.

He couldn’t stop himself, though, from teasing them about a goodnight kiss. Just as he couldn’t stop himself from imagining that wide-eyed flush on their face as he took that good night kiss.

Part Four

Did he enjoy horror movies about vampires and demons and other impossible creatures? Absolutely — ever since he was a kid. But watching Civilian squirm in their seat as they ripped the napkin to shreds proved far more entertaining. Just as watching them take in Rothke for the first time, Jonathan found himself rather mesmerized with their reactions.

At work Civilian tried so hard to pass as a boring, timid little mouse. They hid all the best parts of themselves — their wit, the spark of their anger, their bravery. And now, every Saturday, Jonathan looked for more and more ways to uncover vibrant parts of Civilian, like digging for gems in a coal mine.

He could feel the artificial fear coursing through them. Their heart leaped with each jump scare, their blood pounded with the thick anticipation of the monster on screen. Sometimes they even forgot to breathe until Jonathan sent their lungs stuttering as a reminder. He could even feel their teeth grin in their clenched jaw.

They felt so alive.

It took nearly a half hour before their self-restraint broke and they screamed at the sight of long black tentacles bursting through someone’s chest. Jonathan felt merciful, so he traced his fingertips lightly over their inner wrist, reveling in the pounding rush of their blood, before tangling their fingers together.

“Should we leave early, before you wet yourself?” he found himself murmuring against their ear.

They shuddered, spine trembling, teeth biting against their bottom lip.

Fascinating, he thought.

“Why did you pick this movie?” they hissed, sounding like an angry cat.

“Maybe that’s my power — I’m not afraid of things that aren’t real,” he retorted, making sure to brush his lips against their ear as he did so.

“Maybe your power is being an obnoxious prick,” they muttered, scrunching further down in their seat.

He wondered if they would shiver again if he bent down and pressed his lips against their ear, if the tip of his tongue darted to trace the curve of it. Or would they just bite their lip harder as he traveled down their neck, scraping teeth over their pounding jugular and feeling the flush bloom in their bloodstream.

What would it take to get them to gasp, knowing they were in public surrounded by a hundred people? Sucking hard at the junction of their neck and shoulder. Licking a stripe back up to their jaw? Murmuring low in their ear exactly what he could do to them in the back of the theater while everyone stayed distracted?

He’d never know, of course. He was a gentleman.

Part 5

The truth had to come out sooner or later. As much as he enjoyed their little guessing game, it couldn’t last forever. He had to admit he got uncharacteristically angry at their clear dismissal of his power. As if he were one of the dime a dozen telekinetics on the street corner moving pennies and bending spoons for spare change. As if being one those telekinetics wouldn’t have made his life infinitely more bearable.

He may have lost control of some of his perfect self control revealing to Civilian just exactly the kind of person they were dealing with. Their heart fluttered like a bird beneath his power, moving more and more sluggishly as he slowed it down and then thrashing as he sped it up.

There was nothing more intoxicating than having someone completely at his mercy. It satisfied the darkest parts of his mind, as did the sudden vision of pressing Civilian further against the rock and kissing them until they couldn’t know if their lack of breath came from his power or his touch. He could slip into their jeans and their synapses and make them come uncontrollably while they shivered against him, fear and arousal mingling into a maddening cocktail.

Those thoughts evaporated when Civilian collapsed to their knees. That was when he realized he may have gone too far. He stood by his reasons -- Civilian’s cavalier attitude was dangerous to them both and he had grown rather fond of them. It would be a shame to have to kill them to protect himself and his interests.

But perhaps he shouldn’t have played with their heartbeat.

“ . . .Civilian?”

Now, he could feel the symptoms of their panic attack gripping their body. Worry fluttered in his chest. What if they had a weak heart already? Fuck, what if he caused their heart attack right here?

Kneeling down beside them, he took hold of their heart and lungs, smoothing out the staccato jerks of their pulse and breath.

“Breathe, Civilian,” he murmured.

What was wrong with him, comforting Civilian so soon after threatening them? He should have left them on this mountain top. He should have killed them in their car that night in the elevator.

Instead his thumbs reached out to wipe the tears from their cheek, almost as if someone else was piloting him. His powers tilted their chin up to look at him, as if he needed reassurance.

“I’m not getting out of this alive, aren’t I?”Civilian whispered.

Guilt left a sour taste in his mouth. He didn’t feel it often, had made it a habit not to in fact. Now it twisted in his gut like a snake. Civilian shook at his feet, having no idea how much power they had in their hands over Jonathan’s future. How much fear they cultivated in him.

“That depends on you,” he said, trying to be kind. It wasn’t their fault he didn’t trust anyone. It wasn’t their fault that he picked their bank to work at, that he noticed them despite their best efforts to hide.

“I like you, Civilian,” he admitted. It wasn’t even a half lie or an obscured truth. “I have no desire to hurt you. But I have a goal I must complete and no one can get in my way, not even you. If you don’t fear me, you may feel emboldened to do something stupid and reckless and heroic. And then I would have to kill you. Do you understand?”

They nodded and relief broke inside him. Civilian would go home, sleep this off, and they could resume the comforting routine of their false relationship. And maybe Jonathan would sleep better, no longer worried about Civilian running their mouth to the wrong people.

“Good.”

He offered them a hand and they took it, to his surprise. They swayed on their feet, rising too soon. Jonathan steadied them with an arm around their waist the urge to kiss them again flashed like a camera bulb in his head. A soft kiss, sweet and reassuring with just enough filth to distract them from their fear.

“Civilian?” he murmured, unsure of what he was even asking. His face leaned closer to theirs an inch or two, without even thinking. A stray tear glittered in the corner of Civilian’s eye, sparking the harsh reminder of what he had just done to them.

A kiss would not fix this.

“Shall we head back?” he asked instead.

He was a gentleman, after all.

Part Eight

The guilt on the mountain could not possibly compare to now, with Civilian dead asleep on his couch, fighting off a high grade fever because of him. Because their fear over what he might do to them overpowered the sane decision to stay home sick. Because they thought him a murderous psychopath that would kill them for the slightest hint of paranoia.

Any hope had about things returning to normal was obliterated in that first painful work lunch on Monday. Civilian acted like a wooden cutout of themselves, giving him one word answered, eyes flickering to the door, looking as if he had already signed their death warrant.

But he had hoped, given time, the chill could melt back into their previous camaraderie.

And then they showed up to work with a 102 degree fever.

Jonathan believed in necessary suffering. Especially if it were necessary for his continued survival. But this was not necessary. Civilian making themselves sick with the constant fear of their uncontrollable and impending death was not necessary.

So he had no guilt about essentially kidnapping them and keeping them at his apartment so long as they continued to improve. It had been a very long time since he had taken care of anyone else but himself, and those memories were kept locked away in a box that hurt too much to think about.

But he found it easy to keep them hydrated, cook them soup, let them watch their stupid, infuriatingly addictive design show.

As the show progressed and he gave up any pretense of pretending not to watch it, he couldn’t help the thoughts that slowly crept in, how else to care for Civilian:

Washing their hair in the shower, rubbing the soapy loofah over their back and thighs and chest in sure, slow passes. Getting on his knees and pressing them against the shower wall and not stopping until he could taste their orgasm on his tongue, even if he drowned. Sitting them on his lap on the couch, cradling them against his chest as he fucked them with sweet and steady strokes.

The sound of Civilian struggling to sit up snapped him out of his daydream.

“What are you doing?” he asked, somewhat exasperated.

“I’m getting more tea,” they said.

“I’ll get the tea. You start the next episode. I need to see that prick get eliminated.”

“I can make my own tea by now,” they protested.

He snatched their empty mug regardless.

“Sit. You won’t lift a finger while you’re here, whether you like it or not.”

A gentleman always takes care of his charges.

Part Nine

As much as he loved Shakespeare, as much as he loved watching the sheer unadulterated delight on Civilian’s face as they watched the play, Jonathan wanted nothing more than to drag Civilian out of the theater. He wanted nothing more than to find a darkened hallway or a bathroom or even their car in the edge of the parking garage.

He wanted to kiss and lick and bite them, he wanted to hook their leg around his waist and buck into them, he wanted to take them with a hand over their mouth and his mouth on their neck with a ferocity that quite frankly worried him.

He had to reckon with himself, as Benedict and Beatrice reckoned with their own feelings, that he wanted Civilian. Not as a distraction, or a manipulation, or a way to stroke his own ego and live out his own twisted fantasies, but just wanted them. He liked them, liked simply being around them.

Ridiculous.

The horrifying realization followed him into the suspiciously sticky interior of the old arcade he let Civilian drag them to because he didn’t want the night to end just yet.

And he had reason to suspect that maybe Civilian would let him fuck them, that part of them wanted him even though it went against their precocious morals and complicated dynamic.

He had a feeling, judging from the spike of heart rates when he got near, the stolen glances at him, the way they hugged that hideous frog plush, that if he pushed them against the door of their car and kissed them senseless they would have no objections.

But he didn’t fuck them in a darkened hallway or kiss them in a parking lot because Jonathan would be leaving soon. And a gentleman didn’t kiss and run.

But goddamn, did that restraint take all his self control that night.

#mutually assured destruction #villain x civilian #hero x villain #m rating #enemies to lovers #my writing

97 notes · View notes

justaz · 1 year

Text

percy and rachel have so much dirt on one another it’s ridiculous. rachel exposes percy during a conversation with their friends about how often he waxed poetry about annabeth before they started dating (“i swear, rach, her face shines like a goddess’s and her smile could chase away any rain clouds and when she laughs it’s like the sun shines a little brighter and warmer-“) and percy just brings up how rachel accidentally spilled paint on a nude model one time and tried to help clean them up only to realize that she was just wiping paper towels over their naked body and promptly flew backwards knocking over the easel beside her which created a domino effect and everyone’s work hit the floor and they both kind of realize that they could both absolutely destroy one another so they just stop and change the subject

#percy jackson #rachel elizabeth dare #mutually assured destruction #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heros of olympus #percabeth #headcanon #head canon #hc #annabeth chase #i love perachels friendship #i hate that it just kinda disappeared in canon and isn’t mentioned again #they’re friends your honor #if u take out the percabeth pining #it could be perachel (romantic)#but only if u squint

324 notes · View notes

tsukuyomii45 · 7 months

Note

Madara seems like the type of parent to make obito go to school no matter what

LOL

He is the type of parent that would make Obito go to school no matter what.

"Got a flu? Here's some VapoRub. Now go to school."

"Broke a leg? Back in my days I used to hop on alligators across different rivers just to go to school."

"Obito! I didn't raise you to become a lazy bum who would sleep all day. I'm not driving you to school today. I don't care if you're late, that is YOUR responsibility. Now get up, get dressed, and get out!"

"I didn't know I was raising a weak fool and a pansy. That Minato is too easy on you. Man up and get to work-- I mean, school!"

#mutually assured destruction #madara uchiha #obito uchiha #madaobi #naruto shippuden #`

29 notes · View notes

lyric-aes · 1 year

Text

amigo the devil - the weight // william bouguereau - dante e virgilio

id in alt text!

i couldn't decide between two versions of this edit, so check out the other one here.

#amigo the devil #atd #volume 1 #murder folk #web weaving #lyrics on art #lyric edit #mutually assured destruction

150 notes · View notes

fagdykepearlescentmoon · 5 months

Text

Toxic codependency and mutually assured destruction is quite often seen as something vicious and sharp and cruel. But what if it was the opposite.

What if it was soft and sweet and loving. What if instead kisses that leave skin bloody and raw it was a gentle peck on the lips. What if there wasn't hate or greed rather sonething kinder. What if every brush of skin was a silent 'I love you don't leave me I can't live with out you'.

Maybe instead of blood and jagged nails it was feather-light touches and rustling leaves. What if instead of fire it was sickness. Creeping through the soul and hollowing out your insides so flowers can grow from your heart.

Looking and eachother and knowing that if this person was gone you wouldn't be able to function or so much as breathe. You would simply lie down and not move until your body was covered in oleanders and moss and your soul found a home again with the earthworms.

what if toxic codependency was a love so deep you could drown in it? Or something

#just saying words #Was doing the washing and had to sit down to write this lmao #mutually assured destruction #codependant #toxic love #Man idk what I'm saying at this point but yk

20 notes · View notes

candycoatedghoul · 8 months

Text

whats a trans girl without her unregistered firearm?

44 notes · View notes

arealphrooblem · 1 year

Text

Mutually Assured Destruction Part 7

I'm on vacation so you get this one early! Some things are addressed in this chapter, some things will wait for later.

Part one Here

Part 6 Here

The apartment had no personal effects whatsoever. Even if Civilian’s brain was firing on all cylinders right now, they’d be hard pressed to find something that spoke to his personality. Of course, temporary safe houses didn’t need decoration. Still, it was unnerving, even in their current state.

Jonathan returned, holding a thermometer and a glass of water.

“Open up,” he said, the thermometer chirping as he turned it on.

Civilian took the thermometer and placed it under their tongue. Jonathan reached out with his hand and Civilian jerked violently back again. Which was ridiculous — Jonathan didn’t need to touch Civilian to hurt them. But they couldn’t help the sharp spike of panic.

“My apologies,” he murmured, a strange look on his face. “I’m just feeling your forehead.”

This time Civilian forced themselves to hold still as he cupped their forehead. The fingers felt so blessedly cool on their skin they then had to force themselves not to lean into it. The thermometer beeped and Jonathan whisked it from their mouth before they can see for themselves. His expression turned stony.

“102.3,” he said, holding the thermometer out like evidence in court. “What utter lunacy drove you to come to work today?”

“I . . .”

Words failed them in the face of his obvious irritation.

“Well?” he prompted. He looked almost like an angry mother and it would be funny if Civilian wasn’t so terrified of him, trapped in his space with no way out.

“I . . .didn’t know what you would do,” they swallowed, “if you . . .thought I ran away.”

The hard edge of his expression softened into something Civilian didn’t recognize. His gaze darted back down to the thermometer for a moment before setting it down on the coffee table.

“I’ll be right back,” he said quietly before disappearing again.

Even though Civilian had the use of their limbs back, they had no intention of going anywhere. In fact, they felt on the verge of passing out. Their whole body trembled and shivered, desperately cold. Jonathan’s footsteps creaked throughout the old wooden floors and soon he returned, hands full with a glass of water and a large bottle of fever reducer. A pile of blankets and pillows floated behind him.

“Drink that whole glass,” he said. “And take three of those pills.”

He watched with arms folded to ensure they obeyed. Not that he needed to. Civilian would do almost anything to feel relief right now. They took the pills and asked and drank down the glass in careful sips. When they finished, he proceeded to make the couch up as a bed around them. Then he gently guided Civilian into the soft nest of pillows and blankets with invisible hands.

“Sleep,” he said, not unkindly.

Civilian’s body gratefully slipped into oblivion.

When they woke again, the sky was dark and the room lit by a soft lamp. Jonathan sat in the armchair off to the side, reading, glasses perched on his nose. He didn’t notice them and Civilian took this opportunity to study him in the soft glow, as if his features could reveal the secrets behind his contradictory nature:

How he could save their life one moment and threaten it the next. How he used coercion and blackmail to treat them to carefully planned outings that enlivened Civilian’s previously dull life. How he stole their bodily autonomy just to take care of them in their illness.

They found no answers.

As if feeling the weight of their stare, Jonathan’s gaze flickered from his book to Civilian.

“You’re awake. It’s nearly nine PM,” he said, standing up and taking the empty glass from the coffee table. “Take your temperature. I’ll get you more water.”

Nothing this man did ever made any sense.

Civilian dutifully placed the thermometer in their mouth and pushed the button on. It chirped out just as Jonathan returned with their refilled glass.

“101.1,” they reported.

He nodded. “It’s going down. That’s good. Take more of that medicine. Are you hungry?”

They shook their head.

“I’m not surprised. Are you comfortable? Do you need more pillows, more blankets? Are you cold?”

Civilian stared at him in disbelief for a moment before shaking their head again. Several sarcastic retorts bubbled up in their throat and they swallowed them back down.

“I’ll be here if you need anything.”

A threat? A promise? Civilian was too tired to figure that one out.

When they awoke again, morning light streamed through the window and their hair stuck sweaty, to their forehead. Their mouth tasted like death yet for the first time in days they felt hungry. The living room was empty, but Civilian heard the sink running in the kitchen.

Groggily, they reached for the thermometer and took their temperature.

Jonathan peeked his head out from the kitchen doorway, attention caught by the beeping.

“Good morning. It's close to ten AM. What’s the verdict?”

“99.7” they said.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Excellent. You’re improving rapidly. Would you like something to eat?”

Their stomach growled in answer.

“Message received,” said Jonathan,smirking now, before ducking back into the kitchen.

Several minutes later he returned with soup and toasted bread, setting them down carefully on the coffee table. Steam wafted up in the morning light.

“Careful,” he warned. “I just took it off the stove.”

The only time anyone ever cooked for Civilian was at a restaurant. They stared down at the soup and then back up to Jonathan. Now, out of the worst of their misery, the bafflement of this whole situation became too much to bear.

“What is this?” they demanded. “Why are you doing this? What is going on here?"

His eyebrows rose. “You don’t remember yesterday — when you showed up at work with a hundred and two degree fever?”

Civilian glared. “Yes, I remember yesterday, when you controlled my body like a puppet and practically kidnapped me. I also remember Saturday, when you nearly stopped my heart told me if I wasn’t properly afraid of you, you would kill me. Now you’re playing nursemaid and cooking me soup and I don’t understand just what the hell it is that you want from me.”

He gave them that strange, discomfited look again and now in the clear light of morning with their symptoms reduced, Civilian recognized it as guilt. No wonder they didn’t recognize it the first time; they didn’t think Jonathan was capable.

“I saved your life Saturday,” he pointed out. “I did so without even thinking. But everything that came after . . . was a mistake.”

“A mistake,” Civilian repeated slowly.

Jonathan grew quiet for a moment, his brow troubled, as if in the middle of a great internal argument. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Civilian: you terrify me as much as I terrify you.”

They almost snorted. “ . . .I don’t think you realize just how scared of you I am.”

“Oh, I know,” he said ruefully. “I can track the spike of your heart rate when you see me, how uneven your breathing becomes, the tremor in your hands. Just like the first time we met. But that had stopped for a while . . .until I ruined it.”

Civilian didn’t dare say anything. Already this conversation had veered sharply off course. Jonathan had never before revealed any of his inner thinking, his vulnerability. They sat in expecting silence while Jonathan searched in himself for the words.

“You’re not the only one trying not to pick sides, you know. A power like mine attracts ceaseless attention. I’ve dodged recruitment — voluntarily and forcible -- from either side since I was a teenager. I’ve given up everything at times to avoid it: my identity, my family, money, security . . .and its been successful. Until you.”

His eyes dart up to theirs, solemn and haunted.

“Until I met someone who I couldn’t hide from. I could slip away in a city of thirty million people and you could still find me. There’s no place in this world I could go to where you couldn’t sense me if you looked for me. If you ever gave up your own neutrality — voluntarily or otherwise — I would never have my freedom again.”

Civilian sat back, the guilt of that twisting ugly in their gut. “I . . .never thought about it like that,” they admitted.

Jonathan shook his head. “I didn’t want you to. The more ignorant you are the safer you are.”

“And that matters to you — my safety?”

“If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t be here now, would you?”

In more ways than one if they took into account their near fall to their death.

“You are an innocent,”he continued. “Caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. I may be entirely self-serving but I’m not so monstrous that I don’t recognize that. But these last few weeks it’s been easy to forget just how much of a threat you are to me. And when you spoke so cavalierly of my power . . .it was a terrifying reminder of how precarious my secret is with you. I was afraid. I lashed out. I regret it.”

He held their gaze, the truth stark and unshielded in his dark eyes.

“What is it that you want from me?” Civilian asked, more gently than the last time.

“I want to trust you but I don’t think I can bring myself to do so. Even still, I’m not going to hurt you. Your life is not in danger every second you’re around me. If everything remains as it was these last few weeks, you have no reason whatsoever to fear me. Just know that I would choose my freedom over your life if I had to. I hope I don’t have to.”

Jonathan could be lying his ass off, just like he did at work every day. But something in their gut told Civilian this was the real truth. And understanding it, finally, put them on an even playing field. Civilian held his life in their hands just as much as he held theirs.

It didn’t fix everything — this whole situation was a knife’s edge, with so many ways it could end badly for either of them and Civilian would rather not be involved in anything, period.

But it made it easier to bear. It gave them hope that they could both come out of this unscathed.

It made them feel, strangely, less alone.

Part 8 here

taglist: @those-damn-snippets, @heroes-villains-side-blog, @anonymousewrites, @follow-me-into-the-fog, @sunnyside-world, @rivalriotrenegade,@trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room @villain-obsessed-word-nerd, @midnightsillusions, @deflated-bouncingball @pickleking8, @cesspitoflove @to-sneak-away-and-hide @im-a-wonderling, @hasel-anne @ghostly-writer, @moonknight-s-cumdump @valiantlytransparentwhispers @galactic-squiddo @boomimhere, @organizedchaos03 @dungeon-roomba @vidiaka

#hero x villain #enemies to lovers #villain x civilian #my writing #mutually assured destruction #please note this story has been completely planned out to its conclusion #im not making this up as I go #Jonathan is a villain #this relationship is complicated #there is nothing fluffy about it

512 notes · View notes

joanofarc · 3 months

Text

progression, air belgrade (2023).

every winter, i'll see you again

#air belgrade #caleb carr #susan anne messner #2023 #mutually assured destruction #too good to be true records #indie pop #indiepop #jangle pop #dream pop #post-punk #new order #the radio dept.#sing a song #fresh air #Bandcamp

13 notes · View notes

limeartichoke · 8 months

Text

cutesy hannigram sketch 😽

#i love insane people being in love and insane #mutually assured destruction #mad #hannigram #hannibal #will graham #hannibal lecter #fanart #art #drawing #hannibal fanart #hannigram fanart

23 notes · View notes

abiggerphrooblem · 7 months

Text

One Time Jonathan Was Not a Gentleman

CW: public sex, explicit, E rated smut

The Tyrrhenian Sea stretched out before their balcony like a glittering sapphire. Which was exactly how the ad for the hotel described it, but Jonathan had to admit its accuracy even if it was a cliche. Civilian kept exclaiming how they had never seen such a shade of blue before. They spent every morning on the covered balcony, sipping tea and watching the morning bustle on the streets below. And Jonathan sat with them and admired the way they admired the view.

Having grown up in some one-stop-light town and then never leaving the city they worked in after graduation, Civilian took in the world with endless child-like wonder and fascination. Jonathan spent his time torn between wanting Civilian to savor each place they visited and dragging them off to somewhere new just to see that wide eyed gaze again.

So far they had been in Positano, Italy for almost two weeks now and Civilian showed no signs of feeling tired of the sun and good food and brightly colored houses. Their skin had taken on a bronze glow, freckles popping out like spring daisies across their cheeks and forehead. Freedom suited them, their happiness almost like a literal glow about them.

Right now they leaned their forearms against the small iron railing of their porch, a light breeze playing with their hair, as they watched tourists bustle to the beach a few blocks away.

A surge of desire burned through him as sharp and sudden as a lightning strike. He always wanted Civilian, always daydreamed while they meandered to chintzy tourist destinations, how he would have them when they returned to their hotel.

He’s checked a lot of his old fantasies off the list by now: he’s fucked them in the shower of a private onsen, against the side of a cliff in the Swiss Alps, at them out in the bathroom of the Opera Bastille, and, of course, in the elevator of a hotel in the dead of night.

But watching them watch other people gave him something new to think about and he approached them from behind, placing his hands on either side of theirs on the railing, trapping them in.

“Good morning,” they said, leaning back against him.

“Good morning,” he murmured in their ear, nose buried in their soft hair. The smell of their conditioner intoxicated him.

He traced the shell of their ear with the tip of his tongue before ducking down and tugging their earlobe gently between his teeth. A hitched gasp escaped Civilian.

“You seem h-happy this morning,” they said, stuttering when Jonathan moved down to their neck.

He hummed noncommittally against the delicate skin over their pulse, before sucking down, relishing in how Civilian jerked and twitched against him. God, if he knew how sensitive their neck back when he was blackmailing them, he might have broken his gentleman streak. How could anyone resist the delicious half bitten moans and stuttering gasps they emitted when Johnathan so much as ghosted his breath over their throat?

“So I was-- thinking about going b-back to that bakery we found a - a couple days ago and --”

Civilian valiantly tried to hold a conversation as Jonathan liked and nibbled and kissed the entire left side of their neck but it soon devolved into those sweet little moans that left him hard and aching in his sleep pants. One of his hands drifted away from the railing to caress their side with the pads of his fingers, slipping under their shirt to trace patterns on their stomach.

Their hands went white knuckled around the railing and Jonathan didn’t need to see them to know they were biting down hard on their lower lip to keep quiet.

“We should head back in-inside,” they groaned as his hand brushed ever so slightly over their nipple.

“No,” he murmured. “I want you right here.”

Civilian squirmed against him but he kept his grip firm on their waist and on the railing. “There are people here -- oh fuck.”

Jonathan took a peaked nipple and rolled it between his finger and thumb. At the same time he switched over to the unabused side of their neck and latched a sucking kiss against the juncture of their shoulder and neck.

“Please,” they whispered. “Take me to the bed -- or the shower or the f-floor, I don’t even c-care.”

“No,” he said again. “I’m going to fuck you right here or I’m not fucking you at all. Which will it be, Civilian?”

This time he slipped his other hand into their pajama pants, sliding past their underwear to trace the seam of their thigh.

“Someone is going to see,” they hissed, a flush working past the collar of their oversized shirt.

“No they won’t.” He rubs lazy circles into the delicate skin of their inner thigh. “I will make them look away. All you have to do is be quiet. Can you do that, Civilian?”

He let his finger drift over their hole, relishing the shudder that rippled through them.

“I don’t know,” they admitted, sounding wrecked already.

“Oh dear. I guess I’ll have to help you.”

He released his grip on their side and covered their mouth with his hand just as he palmed their sex in his hand. Immediately a moan spilled out, caught and muffled by his hand. He slipped two fingers and his thumb inside and told them to suck.

They obeyed without question, a frisson of tension shivering through them like a pavlovian response.

Below them, tourists and locals alike mingled on the street below, checking into the hotel or meandering to the shopping center down the block. He kept their focus ahead and down, making sure none of their gazes ever tempted up. Though secretly he didn’t mind the thought of people seeing him bring keening pleasure to Civilian. Only their delicate sensibilities curbed his exhibition streak.

When he had worked Civilian until they were begging, tears glittering on their eyelashes, his fingers soaked with their arousal, then he finally shoved both their pants down with a mental twitch of his powers and worked his cock inside them.

A whole body shudder shook through Civilian at the intrusion, their mouth wide open in a soundless gasp.

“You feel so fucking good,” he hissed in their ear.

They could only whimper in response. Jonathan took them with slow, steady strokes, keeping their pleasure building with his hand. They clenched tight as a fist around him and the thrill of knowing only his power kept them both safe from notice fueled his own pleasure like a water on a gas fire. He wasn’t going to last long and neither was Civilian from the way they shook and moaned against him.

He sped up, grinding hard and deep against the soft skin of Civilian’s lower back, until he came with a deep groan, sinking his teeth into their shoulder.

Holy fuck did that feel good.

Civilian whimpered and wriggled against his softening cock. At least three times he had stopped their orgasm from crashing over them with his own power, wanting to keep them panting and desperate.

“Jonathan,” they whispered shakily. “Please.”

“I don’t know Civilian,” he murmured, nosing against their ear. “There are people down there. Anyone could see you come for me in a shuddering wreck. You sure you want to risk it?”

They twitched and bucked their hips up against his hand in a desperate attempt for friction.

“Jonathan please.” There was no sweeter sound than Civilian begging. “People can l-look. I don’t care. Please let me come, please.”

They sounded on the verge of tears and Jonathan couldn’t resist their begging for long. Between his powers and a few clever strokes of his fingers, he brought Civilian to a starburst of an orgasm, freezing their scream of pleasure in their throat to keep the secrecy.

Civilian slumped back against him, legs twitching with little aftershocks. Their chest heaved against the soothing strokes of his hands.

And below, everyone continued on their errands, none the wiser.

#smut #villain x civilian #mutually assured destruction #hero x villain

92 notes · View notes