transias

[transias]

remember when i used to write dead poets society fanfiction and other stuff?

#dps #dps x reader #dead poets society x reader

[transias]

Thick Thighs Save Lives - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader x Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

Summary: Being the only aviator with meat on your bones is tough. It's even more tough when you're stuck showering with two of your teammates.

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), double penetration, fingering (vaginal and anal, f receiving), oral (m receiving), dirty talk, shower sex, protected sex, spit kink, body insecurities, mid/plus!sized reader, self-deprecation, arguing, angst with a fluffy/smutty ending

WC: 5.5K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

If there’s anything you don’t want to hear during a not-so-friendly game of beach football, it’s ‘shit!’. The exclamation comes from Coyote who’s branched off to your towels on the sand, fingers curled around his watch, “We’re late.”

“How late?” Phoenix is already adjusting her ponytail, as it’s frazzled from the action. She’s squinting in the sun and remedies it by knocking her sunglasses down off of her head and onto her nose. It’s smooth, and she knows it by the soft smirk that curls at her lips.

“We have twenty minutes to get on the road.” 

“Shit,” Rooster parrots, dropping the ball where he stands, which is how you know he’s panicked too, “We all need showers. Penny’s gonna kill us if we stink up the restaurant.”

“We can go in teams,” Fanboy decides, already sprinting over to his towel, “We don’t have time for individual ones.”

Before you can get a word in edgewise Coyote and Phoenix are rushing to join him, Bob hot on their trail. The showers are spacious, sure, but you wouldn’t exactly volunteer to share them with anyone. 

With a terrible sinking feeling in your stomach you realize that the only three left are you, Rooster, and Hangman. That means the only way you’ll get to Penny and Maverick’s engagement party is if you shower together.

They’re already at their towels, scrubbing sand out of their hair and strapping their watches back on. Hangman’s is a thick, black leather band, and you can see flecks of sand marring the sleek strap from where it laid on the towel. Rooster’s is thinner, brown in color and gold around the rim. His is clean, but he puts it on his sweaty, sandy wrist. It won’t be for long.

Both men are shirtless, too-tight jean shorts squeezing their waists. You make a point not to stare as you trek back to your towel, already picking up on their competitive banter before you’ve even stood beside them.

“-probably use all my shampoo,” Hangman scoffs, clenching his towel tight in his fist, “You always steal my shit, Bradshaw.”

“I think it’s only fair seeing as you steal my gel!” Rooster quips back, gesturing to Hangman’s stiff, shiny hair, untouched even after your game, “Isn’t it fucking weird, Y/L/N? How much he uses?”

Rooster looks back at you for confirmation, someone on his side. But you’re too disheartened to respond, dreading your impending doom. All you offer is a meager, “Yeah.”, that curls a frown under Rooster’s mustache.

“You hurt yourself or something?” Hangman raises an eyebrow, stunned by your lack of teasing, “I think we need to call the doctor, you didn’t just insult me.”

“I’m fine.” You grumble, towel held around your waist despite the presence of your rash guard, “Just tired from football.”

“Well get ready,” Rooster warns you, “Mav’s gonna have to tell us all about how he and Penny met, and I’m really hoping he withholds the details on the little rendezvous that got him in trouble with her dad, but I know he won’t.”

You shudder for a moment, if only to please him, to throw him off your scent. You’re tired, there’s not any other reason you’re in a funk. You’re tired.

You are tired. You’re tired of caring, of constantly thinking about it. You’re tired of wearing a rash guard to the beach instead of a swimsuit, because everyone else is smaller than you. You’re tired of watching people’s eyes, tracking them to make sure that if they ever dip below your chest there’s something in front of your stomach to block it from their view. You’re tired of adjusting your uniform to make it looser, you’re tired of leaning against the bar instead of sitting at it, you’re just tired.

You are tired. You’re tired of caring, of constantly thinking about it. You’re tired of wearing a rash guard to the beach instead of a swimsuit, because everyone else is smaller than you. You’re tired of watching people’s eyes, tracking them to make sure that if they ever dip below your chest there’s something in front of your stomach to block it from their view. You’re tired of adjusting your uniform to make it looser, you’re tired of leaning against the bar instead of sitting at it, you’re just tired.

“Hey,” Hangman’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, admittedly less grating and irritating than it normally is “You sure you’re okay?”

You blink and they’re staring at you, brows furrowed and limbs frozen in place. You wish that the waves lapping gently at the sand would crash onto shore and swallow you whole, sweep you up in a tidal wave of salt water and seaweed so that you wouldn’t have to answer.

“I’m fine,” You grit, slipping your feet into your shoes and rushing to stand outside the showers, “C’mon, we’ll be late.”

--

You had hoped that they’d get too busy bickering with each other to ever find you. But here they come, not five minutes later, just as Phoenix steps out of the steamy bathroom. A towel is wrapped around her torso and Hangman exaggerates his ogling of her, only turning your stomach further.

“Perfect timing,” He drawls, and she rolls her eyes. 

Bob steps out next, taking one look at her face and stepping in front of her, “Your turn, Bagman. Try not to use all the gel.”

“See?” Rooster nudges you, his elbow against your arm as Bob and Phoenix walk away, “I told you! It’s absurd, he slathers it on like cement.”

“He’s gotta,” Coyote drawls, reaching over to knock on Jake’s head, “Otherwise his head’d sound as empty as it is.”

The two engage in a good-natured shoving match, but it’s one that nearly sends Coyote’s towel cascading to the ground, and you keep your eyes firmly on the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner that you’d brought. You read over the ingredients, as if sodium laureth sulfate and glycol distearate will keep your mind off of your humiliation.

“You said you’re fine,” Bradley murmurs from beside you, “But if it’s something you just don’t wanna say around Hangman, he’s not listening.”

Part of you is less embarrassed to be honest and exposed to Rooster than Hangman. But he’s still a man, an incredibly fit one at that, and you’re not sure you’d ever want to reveal it to either of them.

“I’m just nervous,” You tell him the only part of the truth you’re willing to admit. I’ve never... showered with a- a boy before. A man.”

You cringe at your misstep, but if Bradley’s amused by it, he doesn’t show it. Instead he hums, sympathetically so, “We’ll turn around, honey. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“You’ll turn around,” You mutter, “I think it’ll just egg Jake on further.”

“What’s this I hear about eggin’ me on?” A familiar southern twang makes you tense as the man it’s coming from appears by your side, bumping his hip into yours, “You ready for our steam session, sweets?”

“Leave her alone, Hangman,” Rooster groans, feet slapping against the tiles as he goes to adjust the water. He shoves at Hangman’s back as he passes, and you stifle a giggle as the man nearly falls over.

“Hey, she’s the one that chose to shower with us,” Jake insists, and Bradley’s scoff is enough for you not to fight back, “And I would, too, if I were you, darlin’. Do you know how many ladies are lined up to see how hung Hangman is?”

You force a gag, “The only lady I see here is myself, and I’d rather smear wet sand in my eyes.”

“That’s what I’m gonna do to you if you don’t turn around and shut up,” Bradley speaks through the roar of the shower water, steam already rising from its fall, “Just drop your pants and wash your ass, so Y/L/N can shower to herself.”

“Well, well, well,” Jake smirks, towel cinched around his waist in only one hand as he stalks for the showers, “Looks like one of the ladies lined up is Bradshaw himself. Wanna see it, Rooster? Here it is.”

Jake drops his towel ceremoniously, and Bradley’s face morphs into a grimace as he turns away hastily.

“My fucking eyes,” He laments, and you pause in gathering your toilettries to laugh, while also trying very hard not to stare at Jake, “Oh my god, Y/N, you won’t have to worry about me seeing you. I’m going to pour shampoo into my eyes until I go blind.”

Jake realizes you’re taking a little too long getting ready, cocking a hip as he leans his head back to stare down his nose at you, “So what, you gonna ditch dinner, Y/L/N? Whatcha waitin’ for?”

“She’s waiting for you to stop being a perv and turn around,” Bradley comes to your rescue once again, and thankfully, Jake seems to realize it’s a real issue, pivoting until he’s facing the shower wall.

“I think she just wants a nice view of our asses,” Jake theorizes, standing with his clear on display, “Which is better, Y/N? Mine or Chicken’s?”

“Chicken,” Rooster grumbles under his breath, and if you were brave enough to actually declare a winner, you’d give it to him just for that. But, Hangman’s form is rather impressive, all tight curves and tan skin and-

And you shouldn’t be looking. You clear your throat awkwardly, peeling off your rash guard as Jake sponges his side down. There’s sand running thick down the drain and you hope it doesn’t back up, something you’d feel terrible for Penny to have to clean up.

“Uh,” Bradley stills in his place, “Shit, I think I left my shampoo over there. Y/N, could you…?”

“I got it,” You hum, reaching over for the blue bottle and tucking it in his carefully, blindly outstretched hand, “Thanks for, um- here.”

“Yep,” He nods, smearing a dot of the substance on his palm and lathering it through his hair.

“Oh no,” Jake mimics Bradley’s previous predicament, dropping the bottle in his hand so that it rests between his legs, “Y/N, could you-”

“Ass,” You drawl, reaching forwards to butt your palm against his back. He stumbles forward with a laugh, catching himself on the railing. He bends down to reach for it and you’re nervous he’ll peek at your body from between his legs, but he stays respectful, something you know he is at his core even if he pretends differently.

You find yourself relaxing against the tiled floor of the shower, feet firmly planted instead of poised to run. As much as you know neither of the men in front of you would make any rude comments about your body or your weight, there’s still the nauseating fear that they might think differently of you having seen you completely unobscured. So you’re thankful for the privacy, that lasts… well, until it doesn’t.

The snap of your conditioner cap catches the skin of your pointed finger in its jaws and a gasp clutches tight at your lungs.

“Son of a bitch!” You cry, waves of pain flowing through your finger and out towards the rest of them. On cue each man turns, eyes wide and fear-stricken, without thinking.

You know they didn’t do it on purpose. You know they instinctively thought you were hurt, and wanted to help. You know they didn’t mean to look at you. But the withering feeling in your guts knows no logic, only fear.

They’re looking, it hisses, They’re looking at everything. The way your stomach pudges into a roll at the base. The way your breasts sag. The way your thighs stretch, marks littering their stems, and present no gap.

“You’re bleeding.” Bradley observes, eyes trained faithfully on your finger, “I’ll get a bandaid.”

He rushes for the cabinets outside the shower, dripping water over the floor. Jake stands, staring, but you’re too humiliated to glance at his face and notice the soft pinky blush on his cheeks that’s spreading to his ears. 

“Here,” Bradley speaks from behind you, though he molds himself to your side when you’re still frozen in fear. He brushes a towel over your cut, the turquoise material staining red. He then undoes the waxy paper wrapping from the bandaid, sticking it tight to your skin.

“It’ll get wet,” He reminds you, “But it’ll stop soap from stinging it.”

You don’t even thank him. At your prolonged silence he glances up at Hangman, intent on giving him a concerned glance, but he sees the man’s eyes rove over your form and snaps.

“Dude,” Bradley utters gruffly, “Don’t be a perv. Come on, turn around.”

When Jake stays just as still as you, he reaches for him, shoving hard, “I said turn around!:

“Please, Jake,” You whimper, tears brimming in your eyes, “Turn around.”

“You’re crying.” Jake snaps out of his trance to frown up at you, and Bradley keeps pushing, an insistent thorn in his side, “Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re-!” You gush, lip wobbling, “You’re looking at me, and- and judging me, and-”

“Judging you,” He scoffs, eyes nearly bugging out of his head, “Best body I’ve ever seen. Case closed. Court dismissed.”

“Shut up,” You seethe, tears finally dripping down your cheeks, “Just shut up! You think this is fucking funny? You don’t think there’s a reason I didn’t want to shower with you?”

“You’re private, I get that.” He scoffs. “But if you think I’m judgin’ any part’a that, then you’re stupid, too.”

“Not the compliment you think it is,” Bradley mutters, hands still prying at Jake’s shoulder, “She told you to turn around, just do it.”

“No,” Jake doubles down, pushing Bradley away and stalking towards you, “I wanna know why you think so goddamn low of me. You really think I’d rope a woman into a shower and then pick apart what she looks like? You think that low of me?”

“It’s not about you,” You gush, hands at your sides in frustration, “It's about me! And my fucking body, okay? I’m not calling you a dick for judging me, I’m calling myself-”

“What?” Jake’s head tilts to the side, eyes glinting dangerously, “What are you calling yourself?”

“....Gross.” You finish lamely, the fire in your chest extinguishing with the poof of a sigh that escapes your lips.

He’s grabbing your hand without thinking about it, gentle but firm. You stare at him, anxiety-riddled.

“Listen here, girly. I’ve let you get away with sayin’ a lotta things about yourself. Dumbass I agree with, especially considering these circumstances. I’ve heard clumsy and stubborn, those I don’t have an issue with either. But don’t look me in my fuckin’ face and tell me you’re gross, ‘cause it’s an insult to me and my tastes.”

He squeezes your hand once before releasing it, and it feels more now like a heartfelt gesture than a threatening one. You’re breathing heavy, lungs cut short from the adrenaline of the moment, Even though Bradley isn’t pushing him anymore, standing on the sidelines waiting, watching, Hangman turns around without another word. He scrubs aggressively through his scalp and you’re almost surprised nothing bleeds, your mouth hung slightly open and your tongue leaden over your teeth.

“I’m not your type.” You finally manage to mutter, voice taut.

“Yes you are,” Jake scoffs, “How would you know?”

“I saw you eyeing up Phoenix earlier.” You roll your eyes, and if Bradley hadn’t turned around again you’d have flashed him an exasperated look.

“So? A man can like several shapes,” Jake boasts, voice losing venom, “Plus I ogle Phoenix just to piss her off.”

“It works.” Bradley cuts in, and you snort.

“Point is,” Jake drawls, and you’re sure if Bradley was in his line of sight he’d have been the victim of a very withering stare, “Don’t discredit yourself. You’ve got sexy ass thighs, woman.”

“Jesus, Jake,” Bradley sighs, “Can you just hurry up, already? I’m sure there’s nothing more Y/L/N wants than to get rid of you.”

“Oh, shut up, lapdog,” Jake deadpans, “You can’t tell me you don’t agree.”

Bradley’s silent for a moment, and your gut churns.

“Whether I do or don’t is irrelevant,” He chooses his words carefully, “Let’s just leave Y/N alone.”

“He totally does,” Jake snickers, “Hear that, Y/L/N? It’s his blush.”

“Like you weren’t blushing!” Bradley scoffs, “I looked up at you and thought you’d been temporarily replaced with a baboon’s ass.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” Jake drawls, “That’s what I think every time I see you, porn stache. Then I remember it’s just your natural charm.”

The crisis has been averted enough for you to let out a shaky laugh at their insults, and the sound catches both men’s attention.

“Listen, Y/L/N,” Jake starts, voice much kinder and softer now, “The point of this isn’t me telling Bradshaw he’s got the face of an ass. The point is to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull; you’re pretty damn sexy, y’hear?”

You snort at his callous nature, “No one’s ever told me anything like that before.”

“Yeah?’ He pauses,towel in hand that he nimbly swings over his shoulder, “Well, pardon me for lookin’, and even more for touchin’, but everyone else is fuckin’ insane.”

Before you can process his words he reaches down to palm at your thigh, a hefty squeeze that sends your flesh spilling against his palm. You stiffen, even though he stays politely away from your ass, encroaching only on territory he could also grab while you’re clothed. The feeling of his touch, no matter how chaste, elicits a noise from your throat that you wish you could pass off for a scream.

It’s not.

It’s a moan.

He stops where he’d begun pulling away, eyes sharpening slightly. You don’t dare look at Bradley, but if you did, you’d see his cock twitch.

“Did I hurt you?” Jake asks, voice low.

All you can do is shake your head, teeth digging into your lower lip helplessly.

“Did you like it?” He tries again, but this time he doesn’t accept body language as an answer/ Still hunched, he ignores your nodding and reaches up with his free hand to tug your bottom lip out from under your teeth.

“I asked you a question,” Jake croons, voice smooth and soft, “Did you like it?”

All you can whimper is a meager ‘Yes’.

Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes.” Stronger, this time.

His hand plants itself firmly back over your thigh, thumb stretching towards the curve of your ass this time. It’s a little more suggestive, and a lot more alluring.

“Jesus,” Jake groans, kneading the soft flesh of your doughy thigh between his fingers, “Bradshaw, c’mere for a second.”

He hesitates, “Do you want me there, Y/N?”

“Yes,” You nod once more, legs stiffening and thigh tensing against Jake’s palm, “I- I do.”

“You take front,” Jake instructs, falling into place behind you with his hands now greedily prying at your ass, “And I’ll take back.”

The smile that Bradley offers you when he steps in front of you is nothing short of dreamy. It’s enough to make you blush, and he lets out a soft, breathy laugh at how forward Hangman is being while he stands giddily in front of you.

“If you say hi,” Jake drawls, hooking his chin over your shoulder and reaching around your front to grip at the seams of your inner thighs while glaring at Bradley suspiciously, “I’m going to slap you.”

“I wasn’t going to say hi,” Bradley scoffs, and you can tell by his blush that he totally was.

“Jesus, enough yammering,” Jake scoffs, turning his head to press his dewy lips into your neck, “We’re gonna be late for dinner.”

You worry, for a moment, that he’ll let go. That he’ll walk away, get dressed for the restaurant, and pretend nothing ever happened. But that’s not what he does, of course. Instead, you feel the hard press of his cock against your ass.

“I’ll be gentle,” Jake croons, feeling you tense as his hands smooth over the dip of your ass, “We’ll go slow, okay?”

“Real slow,” Bradley murmurs, and it catches your attention, reeling it back to him. You realize he’s standing much closer to you now than he had been before, lips nearly brushing yours.

The second your lips meet his in a kiss, Hangman smooths his hand between the globes of your ass. You squirm at the sensitive feeling, foreign as his fingertip brushes against your hole. But he doesn’t let up, and neither does Bradley.

Rooster’s tongue slides against your bottom lip, warm and wet. At the same time Hangman’s hands squeeze your ass, pulling apart each side and smoothing down the skin between. It sends a shiver up your spine that escapes in a puff of air between your lips, one that Bradley eagerly swallows.

Bradley’s hands grab your cheeks, thumbs brushing near your eyes and yanking you closer. You can feel Jake’s fingers carefully prodding and pressing at the tight ring of your asshole, a hitch in your breath causing you to bite down on Bradley’s lip.

“Fuck,” He hisses, coming away with a red lip and a guttural groan, “Jake, just- let up. Me first, she’s obviously sensitive.”

“She’s just tight,” Jake murmurs, lips pressing to the expanse of your shoulder, “Nothin’ I can’t fix.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to fix it,” Bradley grumbles, tearing a condom open with his teeth that he’d snagged from his wallet, “‘Cause I’m going in first, and you- shit!”

His fingers, slippery from the water and probably excess soap, drop the condom. The way that you’re arched into Hangman’s touch means that your thighs are squeezed together and bent slightly, and there’s no better way to catch a condom than between your thighs.

The foil wrapper sticks between your legs, making it easy for Bradley to pluck it out and toss the wrapper aside. Penny will find it tomorrow, because you’re sure as hell not gonna remember to get it.

“Well, whaddya know,” Jake drawls, grinning against the skin of your neck so hard you can feel it, “What they say is true. Thick thighs save lives.”

You face-plant into the water-dropped skin of Bradley’s neck, ignoring the way Hangman snickers.

“Actually, I think they just stopped a life from being conceived,” Bradley reasons, only a few sloppy strokes of his cock needed to easily slip the condom on, “But that probably saved my life, ‘cause if I got you pregnant in Penny’s bathroom, she’d slit my throat.”

The tip of Bradley’s hardened dick presses to your inner thigh, skin seldom touched and sensitive. You lean into it, but Hangman’s fingers follow, gently stroking over the rim of your ass. It’s starting to feel less foreign and more pleasurable, a twinge of something sweet licking at the underside of your belly like a rogue flame.

Bradley gently presses two fingers against your slit, ever-considerate in making sure you’re sufficiently prepped, but his eyes widen at how much slick he’s greeted with just past your folds.

“Holy shit,” He breathes, nose nudging yours as his lips brush with your own, “You’re wet.”

“Duh,” Hangman scoffs, and one of his hands abandons your ass to slip between your folds, collecting slick on their tips and dragging it back to your ass, “I’ve been touchin’ up on her for a while now.”

“Pardon me for thinking that’d work like an umbrella on a rainy day,” Bradley bitches, but you cut him off with a kiss before he can spout any other mildly insulting metaphors for how bad he thinks Hangman is in bed. You’ll vouch if you have to, he knows what he’s doing.

With each slow circle that his fingers trace around your rim, you bend back into him. Until you can feel his cock pressed stiff to your backside,just as Bradley presses his tip flush with your clit.

“Oh-,” You gasp, clit sending a shockwave of electric lust reverberating throughout your body, “Bradley, I- Inside, please, now!”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” He croons, speaking in a velvety soft hum against your lips, “Don’t worry.”

He holds to his promise, sliding his dick down from where it’s pressed to your clit and easing it between your folds. You heave a blissful sigh at the feeling of being full, and it makes you rock backwards into Hangman’s fingers.

One breaches your hole, slipping inside with an agonizingly pleasurable burn. The stretch feels heavenly, especially because your cunt is already stretched to accommodate Bradley’s cock that slowly bottoms out inside of you.

“Good,” Jake praises, kissing beneath your ear, “I knew you could do it.”

Rooster lets out a groan at the feeling of your involuntary clench around him, eyes screwed shut. His forehead is braced against yours and you take the liberty of engaging him in another kiss, letting the pleasure of Jake’s fingers at your hole compel you to lick into Bradley’s mouth.

Being pleasured from both sides is too overwhelming. You feel yourself already rising to a climax, pressed on by both Bradley’s thick cock grating against your insides and Jake’s fingers.

You smooth your tongue over Bradley’s, gripping his shoulder when he increases his pace to be steadily fast. He’s not speeding through anything, but he’s not slow either, and it makes your insides burn.

The feeling of his cock ramming over and over and over against that spongy spot deep within you is too much, especially when Hangman slides a single, thick finger into your ass. You can’t help it, your orgasm hits you like a freight train (or perhaps a fighter jet), and you clench sporadically around Bradley’s thick, hard cock.

You whine relentlessly into his mouth, fingers clawing and prying at his damp skin as your knees go weak. You’re surprised you stay standing at all, but you funnel all of your orgasmic vigor into the kiss that Bradley eagerly licks out of you, and clutching his shoulders is enough.

Coming down from your high is jarring, especially when you realize that the steady pressure against your clit had been Bradley’s thumb the entire time. The pleasurable sensation is starting to sour with the unpleasant sting of overstimulation, and you tear his hand away eagerly, “Too much.”

“Sorry,” Bradley grunts into the kiss, the bristles of his mustache grating at your lip. 

Bradley pulls out of you, still hard and red-tipped. 

Jake takes one look down, his free hand sliding up your back while his other stays firm at your ass, “Those were pretty sounds. Look’t what they did to Bradshaw. See that, honey?”

You nod, breathless as you stare at Bradley’s impressive length.

“I think you should return the favor,” Jake muses, putting pressure against your back so that you bend in half, “Suck him off, darlin’.”

You land at eye-level with Bradley’s covered cock, and you can’t get the condom off fast enough. You drag your tongue along the underside of Bradley’s hard dick, taking the heated length into your hands and squeezing fondly at his balls. He swears low and gruff under his breath, watching your tongue snake against his slit.

Your lips curl around the head of Bradley’s cock, and the way that Jake adds a second finger to your ass makes you suck hard. You feel Bradley’s cock twitch on your tongue, and you scrape your teeth feather-light along him as you take more of him into your mouth.

He tries to keep himself still, tries not to face-fuck you, but he’s hopeless. His hips jolt forwards and you gag at the feeling of his dick hitting the back of your throat. It makes him groan, fists clenched at his side.

You bob and suckle along every inch of Bradley’s dick, licking up the vein that runs along the side and hollowing your cheeks while Jake fingers you open. When there are suddenly no fingers in your ass anymore at all, you whimper, taking Bradley’s cockhead into your fist while you try craning your neck to look back at Hangman.

“Keep going,” Jake directs you, nodding his head towards your fist, “He’s not done, and neither am I.”

You slip the hand that’s curled around Rooster’s dick and slide it up his length, rubbing gently at the base while you kitten lick the head. He pants and groans, bucking into your fist and subsequently your throat. The feeling of Jake’s dick pressed tight to your stretched hole makes you jolt forwards, and you face-fuck yourself on Bradley’s dick.

“Jesus,” He hisses, “You’re- you’re good at this, baby. C’mon, a- a little more, now.”

You let out a scream muffled by Bradley’s cock as Jake slides himself into your ass, dick grating delightfully tight against your rim. Once he bottoms out he sets a merciless pace, giving you no time to adjust before you’re being hammered into like he’s a feral animal.

“See that, Bradshaw?” Jake boasts, sending a hefty slap to your ass, “Told you she could do it. Perfect ass.”

“I see,” Bradley pants, hands tangled in your hair while you bob on his cock, “I- I’m gonna cum, honey.”

There’s barely any warning before the sight of Jake’s cock ramming into your ass gets to be too much for Bradley, but you don’t need it. You’re perfectly content to welcome his warm seed down your throat, letting it paint the inside of your mouth as you tongue him dry.

You don’t realize you’re using Bradley’s cock as a pacifier until he pushes at your forehead, hissing in oversensitivity, “Okay, okay! It’s too much,” He soothes you by sticking two of his slick-stained, thick fingers between your lips instead, “Here, honey. There y’go.”

Drool gathers at the seam of your lips and Bradley smears it away from your mouth, gathering it on his palm and licking it away. He groans at the taste, his own seed permeating your saliva, “Messy girl.”

Jake isn’t satisfied with his lack of action. Apparently, jackhammering into your ass isn’t quite enough for the guy, and he fists a hand in your hair to yank you upright with a grunt.

Bradley’s fingers slip from your lips with a pop and you cry out as Hangman manhandles you, pleasurable pain flooding your senses from the hair-pulling that start waves of a second orgasm swelling below your belly.

“Open,” Jake commands, keeping your neck bent backwards so that his face hovers over yours. You open your mouth without hesitation, and he spits inside.

Warm saliva, cooling quickly the more you stick your tongue out, pools by your throat. You eagerly swallow without being told,drool now seeping backwards down your face and towards your eyes. Jake licks it off with a broad, wet swipe of his tongue, and smears it against your lips.

The kiss is messy, upside-down and drooly, but it’s hot. Jake’s tongue licks against yours and his teeth nip at your bottom lip, a real spider-man style porno.

Your spine aches from being bent like a curly-q, but the ecstasy bleeding into your core is enough to push it to the back of your mind. You reach down to finger your clit, a whimper bleeding into Jake’s mouth at the action.

“Gonna cum, honey?” Jake drawls, “Sweet pussy’a yours gonna clench around nothin’?”

His southern drawl is stronger when he’s fucking, you note. It’s attractive.

“Not nothing,” Bradley volunteers, sticking his spit-soaked fingers up into your gaping cunt, “Cum, baby.”

You’re very good at following orders.

Your second orgasm hurts, in the best way. It tears you apart from the inside out, cunt clenching tight at Bradley’s fingers as he curls them inside of you. Jake bites hard at your lip as you ride out your second orgasm, and his dick twitches inside of you once, twice, three times before he’s letting himself go in tandem.

He fills you with warm cum, the substance gushing out of your gaped hole and oozing out around his own cock. 

“Jesus fuck,” He snaps, the words an unintelligible grunt against your lips, “So tight, and so sexy.”

Bradley’s free hand braces itself on your stomach, and the touch doesn’t make you recoil like it normally would. It’s lewd, but being splattered with their cum really makes you believe that they’re not going to judge your body.

Instead you lean into the touch, letting Bradley embrace you as you come down from your high a moaning pile of mush.

“Slow,” You warn Jake, who’s never heard the word a day in his life. He follows directions, though, easing his dick out of you and making sure it doesn’t burn.

“We need another shower,” Bradley pants after a moment of fucked-out silence. 

You nod, brain foggy, “Yeah. We- we can’t show up to the restaurant smelling like sex. They’ll know.”

--

As it turns out, you don’t need to smell like sex for everyone to know you’ve just had it. You show up forty-five minutes late, sweaty-faced and rosy-lipped, all slightly out of breath. Your dress is rumpled, and Bradley’s tie is haphazardly secured.

“Oh,” Phoenix grimaces, nose scrunching in disgust, “Gross, guys.”

“In my bathroom?” Penny looks aghast, “You better not have clogged the shower drain.”

“Easy,” Maverick throws a hand out over her own, “We’ve done it in there one too many times to judge.”

“Gross!” Payback rears away from the older pilot sitting next to him, “Everybody needs to stop getting laid, but if you do, don’t tell me about it!”

[transias]

On Her Majesty’s Supersonic Service (Adrian Chase x Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: SMUT, Descriptions of murder, Descriptions of violence, Verbal Humiliation, Light bondage, Duct tape, Tent sex, Accidental voyeurism, Bodily fluids, Dubious consent, Characters mistakenly assume non-consent

Summary: Immediately after the attack on the Glen Tai bottling plant, Task Force X sets up camp overnight to rest before the road trip home. Vigilante offers to help you, an MI6 agent working under Amanda Waller, find creative ways to navigate drawbacks of your new superpowers.

A/N: Not a fan of Y/N so there's an original character with powers sort of similar to the DC comics Black Canary

Chapter 1: For Your Ears Only

Chapter Text

“Pretty please do it again?”

Vigilante is crossed legged opposite you on the other side of the bonfire. He eagerly lines up empty beer bottles and looks at you expectantly. You don’t hate him exactly but you do find literally every single aspect about his personality annoying. He is so irritatingly enthusiastic and let's face it, a psychopath. Your poor eyes have never rolled so much or so often when you spend time with Vigilante.

He’s like a golden retriever puppy personified- if puppies were armed to the hilt and trained to kill with zero regard for human life. And despite your alias, you’re more like a black cat than a Blackbird. Cautious, quiet, sometimes deadly- you possess a distinct lack of tolerance for dogs like Vigilante.

Tonight though… tonight you have a little more patience for him than usual. Perhaps it’s the fact that he saved your life just hours earlier. Or maybe it’s just the beer you’ve been sinking since your very close brush with death. Normally you’d turn your nose up at American beer, but you definitely needed a drink after today’s mission.

He is waiting expectantly and even though you’ve never seen his face before, you can tell that he has a goofy grin under his mask.

“Will you leave her alone for five minutes?” Harcourt finishes the bottle she’s been sipping and tosses it into the rubbish pile. But she’s less stern than usual, the massacre today brought your team closer together and the mood is still light.

“Yeah, Blackbird, if you need me to kick his ass just yell.” says Adebayo

You smile and raise your eyebrows.

“Uhhh, right. The supersonic scream thing. Well, come bang on the side of my tent if you need me.”

She strains as she tries to stand up with difficulty. Adebayo had had a narrow escape inside Glen Tai - a giant gorilla had knocked her aside and she severely sprained her ankle.

“You won’t be kicking any ass tonight Adebayo, not with that injury.” says Economos, pulling her up. She wraps one arm around Economos’ shoulders and her other around Harcourt’s. “G’night you three” he says. You lift your hand to give them a short wave in return. They help her limp to her tent before retiring to their own respective ones.

You hope she’s okay. Out of this team of Americans that Waller has ordered you to team up with, you find Adebayo to be the least grating.

You, Vigilante and Chris remain by the campfire. Vigilante rests his face on his cupped hands and looks at you. Like a psychopathic masked cherub.

“C’mon Birdie, just these three bottles? Please?”

You roll your eyes again- you’re going to pull an eye muscle if you spend any more time around Vigilante- his incessant chatting makes you grind your teeth. Mostly because it’s extremely irritating but also because you’re a little bit jealous. Your fellow MI6 agents used to complain that you talked too much and gave each other significant looks whenever you went on and on. 

But of course that was before your accident. Who would have guessed that stealing a prototype supersonic jet on behalf of Her Majesty’s Secret Service would end up with you being royally fucked? You woke up weeks later with the worlds’ most deadly sonic vocal chords. The icing on the cake was MI6 ordering you to join Amanda Waller’s investigation into the butterflies, probably as punishment for failing your previous mission.

You take a deep breath and quietly murmur a gentle, low note. The ground vibrates and the first empty bottle of Budweiser shatters. You concentrate hard and hum a second note and the next bottle cracks in a perfect straight line down the middle, the two halves fall apart. Another inhale and you let out a soft whisper- the third beer bottle is blasted backwards into the air by a sonic wave.

Vigilante leans back to rest on his elbows and looks at you appreciatively. “Never gets old.”

There is a moment’s pause as the three of you stare into the fire. “I never asked anyone at Corto Maltese but what does it feel like, having… abilities?” asks Chris “My sonic boom helmet is pretty cool but it must be scary as fuck having it inside your head.”

You shrug. You preferred life before your powers. Before MI6 had sent you here as punishment for failing to retrieve that jet and nearly getting yourself killed. You miss when you could sing Natasha Bedingfield on karaoke and laugh ‘til you cried without shattering every window in your flat. 

“She misses not being able to talk. I get it Birdie, it feels good to open up and get your feelings out.”

“Vij, stop making shit up. You don’t know that she misses talking.”

“Uh- I think I know how my second best friend forever is feeling. I can read her body language.”

Second best friend forever? Is that sarcasm? As far as you could tell, Vigilante doesn’t really understand sarcasm, nevermind make sarcastic quips himself. So does he actually think you’re friends? 

He may be a borderline stalker that follows you around like a little puppy but the fact that he is super observant comes in handy. It’s probably why you work so well together- even if you don’t like to admit it. In combat he watches your every move and responds and adapts so quickly that it feels like you’re in sync. 

“Tell me he’s talking out his ass.” says Chris

You give a small shake of your head and Chris still looks confused. You pull out your phone and open the notes app.

‘He’s right.’ You type and hold up your screen reluctantly.

“See!” Vigilante points at you enthusiastically. “I can but she hates to admit it! I’m a mind-reader baby. No wait, better than a mind-reader, a body-reader! And damn, I love to read that body.”

You exhale through your nose, scoffing silently but you take a much longer swig of beer. You really do hate admitting that he’s right. What does it say about you that the only person in the team who can’t pick up on most normal social cues can read you like a book? You remind yourself that his body-reading really did save your backside when you were fighting the butterflies earlier. 

One of them had snuck up on you from behind and clamped his hand over your mouth, stopping you from emitting your sonic scream. He had a blade against your throat, ready to sever your vocal chords to stop you from killing any more of his comrades. But Vigilante threw a knife at his head with precision, the blade inches from your face, leaving you soaked in blood, breathless and lying on your back staring up at him, blinking in disbelief, adrenaline coursing through your veins. His towering figure hoisted you back up to your feet with such ease… it actually looked kind of hot. Not that you could ever tell him that.

“Hey Birdie” you look up at Vigilante and can tell by his sing-song voice that he’s still smirking under his mask “Have you ever been fucked so hard that you brought down an apartment building?”

“Jesus Chris Vij!” scolds Chris

This time you don’t make a sour face or give him an eye roll. You flush involuntarily and end up looking down at your crossed legs, praying that neither Vigilante nor Chris can read your expression. Your domino mask only covers part of your face so you hope the bonfire makes the heat rising in your cheeks less noticeable. 

He’s touched a nerve. Yes, you miss laughing and singing but there’s something you miss even more. You haven’t even touched yourself in over a year, nevermind had sex, just in case you make any noise. You’ve had sex dreams that turn into nightmares, always ending the same way- a moan of pleasure that becomes a horrified scream as your sonic waves blow the brains out of the faceless lover in your dreams.

You look up and they’re still staring at you expectantly. You shake your head.

“Shit” exhales Chris “I thought I had it bad in prison but a vow of silence and abstinence? You’re for sure getting into heaven.”

You smirk. You’ve killed way too many people to get into heaven.

“Say the word and I’ll help you out Birdie” says Vigilante. 

“Come on Vij, I said cut it out.” Chris intejects.

Your eyes don’t leave Vigilante, your heart dropping into the pit of your stomach. But you wait for him to finish.

“I saw how that butterfly left you defenceless earlier when he had his hand over your mouth. Just blink twice and I’ll do the same thing babe. One hand over your mouth and the other deep in your-”

“Okay - that’s enough!” Chris gets up and hoists Vigilante to his feet by the scruff of his suit. “Blackbird is just trying to fuckin’ have a beer and you think you can harrass her?”

You sit in stunned silence, momentarily distracted by Chris’ profound moment of self growth. It was only last week that he was sexually harassing your waitress in Fennel Fields, and according to Harcourt, harassing her in a bar just days ago. You bite your lip, your gaze returning to Vigilante and you can feel the flush on your face spreading down your neck and to your chest. You’re grateful that your leather suit doesn’t leave any skin below your neck exposed.

“I’ll take first shift. I’m supposed to be watching for butterflies.” says Chris and he roughly lets go of Vigilante. He points two fingers at his eyes and points them at Vigilante. “But I’ll be watching you too.”

“Aww come on! I’m not a creep.” Vigilante holds up his hands in protest and you find yourself noticing how large his hands actually are. “But I do have duct tape.” he adds, glancing over at you. You’re glad when he turns 180 degrees and positively skips off towards his tent so he doesn’t notice your chest heaving as you try to steady your breath. Calm down.  

You continue to watch him on his way to the far side of the camp as you finish your drink. You throw the empty bottle in with the others in the bin. You nod to Chris and point your thumb at your tent.

“Sleep tight Birdie. I’ll keep an eye on Vij for you.”

You smile and wave your hand away, It’s fine don’t worry about me, but Chris totally misreads your body language.

“Yeah I’ll push him away like that-“ he mimics your hand wave “Read you loud and clear.”

You thought your signing and expressions were obvious but Chris reminds you again that Vigilante is the only person you’ve met who can read your movements like he’s reading your mind.

In your tent you begin to peel off your skintight black leather suit. The dried blood from earlier cracks and flakes as you peel it off. You’re thankfully uninjured. Just a few aches and bruises, and a small scratch where the butterfly held his blade against your neck but you’re grateful you got off lightly. You strip to your plain black cotton underwear and sports bra and use a bottle of water and washcloth to get rid of the remaining blood and sweat from your body, trying your best to get it out of your hair. You need a real shower but this will do for now.

You crawl into your sleeping bag and as you had expected, you can’t get comfortable. Almost immediately you start to toss and turn. It’s unreasonably hot in here, despite the cool night air outside. Your skin feels like it’s on fire and when you lie still you can hear your heartbeat. 

You unzip your sleeping back, exposing your skin to the cool air and lie on your back, hands resting on your tummy. You trace your hand upwards, imagining Vigilante’s much bigger hand moving up past your throat to cover your mouth. You press your knees shut, trying to ignore the low hum of frequency buzzing between them. Your other hand seems to have a mind of its own and reaches down to lightly graze your swollen clit over the fabric of your underwear. You accidentally let out a single agonising groan. The hard ground vibrates and the fabric of the tent whooshes. Pausing, you hold your breath to see if anyone is stirring.

Nope.

You sit bolt upright. Fuck, it is so fucking frustrating being worked up with no release- ever. 

Breathe. 

Come on , you think, you can do this . You’ve gone over a year without this. Self preservation. World preservation. You’ve taken down a group of five butterflies with a single, ear splitting scream- who knows what sonic shockwaves would occur if you orgasmed?

And yet. 

Could Vigilante be right? The butterfly had rendered you helpless with one hand. Could the solution to your frustration be as simple as a strong hand over your mouth?

“I do have duct tape.” 

Heat sears between your legs. You kneel in front of the canvas entrance of your tent. You reach out tentatively to unzip your tent. Your hand hesitates. What if Chris or one of the others sees you?

On second thoughts, you sit back onto your heels, acutely aware of the way your underwear has felt increasingly hot and sticky since Vigilante skipped off to his tent. You place one hand over your mouth and slide the other one into your underwear.

When you close your eyes, the memory of Vigilante standing over you to retrieve his knife from the butterfly's skull enters your mind. The way his strong arms practically scooped you up and out of your stupor. How he firmly placed his hands on each of your shoulders and looked you over to make sure you were uninjured.

“’I’ll do the same thing babe. One hand over your mouth and the other deep in your-” 

Oh for God’s sake. You’re furious with your own lack of self-control as you decide you need to find out how that sentence ends. You unzip the door slowly, quietly and poke your head out into the dark night air. To your left, Chris is still beside the fire, looking out towards the horizon, his back facing the small group of tents. You look towards the right- at Vigilante’s tent. It’s the furthest away from the rest of the group- about thirty or so metres away from yours.

You’ve never moved so quickly and so cat-like in your life. You tiptoe barefoot and half-naked out of your tent and creep silently towards Vigilante’s. You unzip his tent door and hastily climb in. 

“Fuck!” Vigilante scrambles around and sits up in his sleeping bag, he shines both a torch and a gun in your face, blinding you. You furiously press a finger to your lips to try and get him to shush. “What the-?” He blurts. Looking at the torch, you make a barely audible “Shh” and the bulb cracks. Everything in the tent goes dark.

“Birdie?” he whispers “I nearly shot you- I thought you were a butterfly.” You both look at the tent opening with bated breath, waiting to see if anyone has noticed the commotion. They don’t. The only sound is the canvas door moving gently in the cool night breeze.

With each blink, bright spots appear in front of your eyelids as your sight adjusts after being hit with the torch light. The dim moonlight barely penetrates the green canvas of the tent. You turn and see that Vigilante is only wearing a pair of teal boxer briefs- he is unsuited and unmasked. He’s no longer faceless and your eyes widen with realisation that he is the busboy from Fennel Fields. Chris’ friend's brother- Adrian Chase. Adrian’s mouth opens in realisation as he brings a hand to feel his face, reading the recognition crossing yours.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” he whispers and tries to jam the mask back over his head but it gets caught on his glasses. “I can’t sleep with my mask on. I knew it would come back to bite me in the ass.” You reach out and grasp his arms firmly to stop his panicked movements. You let go and hold up your arms in an exaggerated shrug. He stops. “You’re right B bird. You were the only one left in the group who didn’t know my secret identity and you’ve seen me now.” And he tosses the mask aside. 

Your stomach does a little flip as your still-adjusting eyes take him in. Wow- he’s handsome. Thank God. Thick wavy black hair, green eyes, glasses and a muscular, lean body littered with scars.

His glasses are askew and he adjusts them- you can’t help but look at the veins on his muscular forearms as he does it. He halts and looks back at you, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion “What are you doing here? Shit- did Chris spot something on his watch?”

Fuck. 

You pause. He doesn’t know why you’re here. He was joking . Of course he was- he never stops joking. He was probably just making fun of you. 

You try to make your expression blank and unreadable and all sorts of wild excuses flash through your mind. You hold up a finger, signalling for him to wait and bring up the notes app on your phone.

‘I heard a wolf’ you type and show him the phone screen.

“And you came in here rather than deal with it yourself? Alright-” he cocks his gun and starts crawling towards the open tent door. You wave your hands, telling him to stop and you zip the tent door blocking his exit. You quickly type on your phone again

‘Gone now. Can I sleep here in case it comes back?’ 

He looks up from your phone screen. “Birdie? Scared of a wolf? Damn, I thought you weren’t scared of anything!” He laughs quietly and you scowl. “Okay, okay- I won’t tell the rest of them you’re scared of wolves. Pinky swear.” He extends his pinky and you grasp it with your own. You wonder if he knows that there aren’t any wolves in these woods.

“Make yourself at home- Casa de Vigilante.” He waves across the surprisingly tidy tent and you’re secretly pleased that he’s scrubbed himself clean of (most of) the blood and dirt from earlier. He looks round the tent and his eyes land back on you and for the first time he realises you’re wearing underwear and a sports bra. It’s not your sexiest lingerie but you feel a jolt of satisfaction as his gaze lingers a fraction too long. 

“Jeez, you must be freezing,” he says. Oh . Were his eyes just looking over your goosebump covered skin? “You take the sleeping bag”

You can’t believe that after his comments earlier he is actually being a gentleman. This is not going to plan at all. He has no idea that his throwaway flirtatious remark momentarily shattered your world view. 

Maybe this is why you find him so maddening. He is everything you aren’t. Everything you can’t be. He’s loud, he’s openly flirtatious and he’s unserious. The quieter you are, the more you recede into your shell. You can’t flirt anymore because you need to suppress all your sexual desires. You can’t even let out a sigh of laughter without causing a serious injury so you feel like you’re gradually losing your sense of humour.

“Hey Birdie? Are you okay?” He looks into your face, concerned. 

That motherfucker. Of course he’s caring too. You can’t stand it. You grasp his worried face and wrestle him into a kiss. 

Take that , you think as you bite his bottom lip.

It takes him a beat to realise what is happening but when he does he surges forward hungrily, his hand curls a fistful of your hair. He smells like the 5th of November. The bonfire smoke lingers on his skin and underneath the burnt gunpowder scent there’s something fresh and cirtrusy- like bergamot. 

You taste his warm tongue as it enters your mouth and you trace your hand down his chest. He makes a noise low in his throat in response, and using his hand to hold your jaw open he kisses you deeply, exploring your mouth with his tongue. You pull apart to get some air. Your masked eyes meet his bright green ones. His glasses are askew again and his cheeks are flushed.  

“Holy fuck- I’ve thought about kissing you every day since the moment I first saw you Birdie but I thought you hated me?”

You shrug and he laughs.

“Aw, I get it. Poor B bird, you’re just mean to me because you’re all frustrated. But I know deep down you like me. ”

You scrunch your nose, mockingly and your fingers continue downwards to graze his cock. But- wait a minute . Your eyes widen as you get a better feel for what you’re dealing with. Your hand grips round his thick cock through the fabric of his underwear. It’s long too. You rip your gaze away from his green eyes to look down and almost do a double take. You thought they called him ‘ Thimble ’.

“Oh” he says “Chris gives everyone a dick- based nickname. He gave me mine when I was 12.”

You continue to look at him incredulously.

“It was in a locker room, it’s a lot less weird that it sounds. Alright… maybe it is as weird as it sounds.” He pauses “Fuck is it also weird that your surprised reaction to my dick is making me even harder? The ol’ bait and switch.”

You’re trying very, very hard to keep your eyes unrolled. You hands travel back up to his pecs and he lets you push him back so that he’s lying on his sleeping bag. You swing your leg over his body to straddle his hips and pull your sports bra off in one swift movement. 

“Holy fuck.” He groans like he can’t believe his eyes, grabbing your tits lecherously. “Your boobs look even better than they do in that little black suit.” Perv.  

The scars on his body practically beg you to kiss them and so you start working your way down, slowly planting kisses on a healed shrapnel wound on his neck, a small scar on his sternum, following a trail of scratches down his abdomen and your lips meet the trail of dark hair below his belly button. You tug his boxers down, revealing his cock. You feel a rush of heat between your legs as you see it’s hard, leaking and desperate to be sucked.

He adjusts his glasses and looks down in anticipation. You slowly lick the underside of his huge cock and he lets out a quiet whimper as you circle your tongue over his head. You open your mouth ready to take him in when he sits up on his elbows. “Wait-”

You pause and look at him, eyes wide and mouth open, your tongue resting on his frenulum. 

“Is it safe?” he asks. There’s a glint of something in his eye. Fear? Is Vigilante actually afraid of something- you? You nod reassuringly in answer to his question. “You’re sure you can do it without making any noise?” You nod again, your tongue still on his frenulum and his cock bobs with your head movement. “Okay” he acquiesces but he remains on his elbows, looking down at you as you open your jaw as wide as you can and try to take all of him in.

It’s been at least 18 months since you did this but you don’t remember it being this difficult. Your lips feel stretched as you take in as much of his length as you can. Your tongue slides up and down the underside of his penis and you feel his head hit the back of your throat but your lips aren’t even close to the base. 

“Fuck, you were so mean before. And now you’re being such a good girl for me- what happened to you Birdie?”

Good girl . Ugh, why does that make you melt? You concentrate hard and you desperately want to moan but you can’t make any noise with your vocal chords. The only sound is the obscenely wet slurping of your saliva as you swirl your tongue around his length. You look up at him again and see he has the same glint in his eyes before. And you realise it isn’t just fear, it’s excitement. Sick fuck . He’s excited at the danger - that you might accidentally blow him to smithereens while, well, blowing him.

“Wait… wait…” he groans and cups your chin. Oh no- maybe he’s realised the life threatening position he’s in? “I’m gonna blow my load if you keep doing that.” Yes ! You think with satisfaction. “Just looking at your pretty mouth- oh fuck- that dangerous little mouth that just killed an entire swarm of butterflies. Fuck- it makes me wanna cum.”

He’s deranged . But you’re desperate to please him,  give him that release he deserves for saving your life earlier. You nod with your mouth still full, giving him permission to cum down your throat.

“I can’t,” he genuinely looks anguished “Because I still wanna fuck you. And I really wanna taste your pussy… will you let me?”

You reluctantly remove his cock from your mouth and purse your lips with worry. You shake your head.

“You don’t want me to go down on you? Isn’t that why you came in here B?” You crawl up towards him and lie on your side, facing him. Adrian turns on his side and looks into your eyes. Your eyes are wide, pleading that he understands. 

“You think it’s too dangerous for me to go down on you?” You give a small embarrassed nod. 

“Hey, what did I promise you?” He tilts your head up. “I promised you I’d put one hand over your mouth…” He covers your mouth with his left hand and you’re forced by the sudden weight of him onto your back “... and the other…” His right hand pulls your underwear off and he gently glides over your wet folds with his fingers. The pads of his fingers lightly graze your throbbing clit and you fight not to buck your hips greedily. He leans in to whisper, his lips touching your ear and his breath hot “...deep in your cunt.” Adrian sucks two of his fingers and then sinks them deep into your aching pussy, curling up and hitting the spot you crave, his palm rubbing your clit. You arch your back as he presses his fingers inside you.

“Oh man, you are so fucking wet already. Is that just from sucking my cock? Or is it from when you were in your tent coming up with that wolf story?”

Fuck - he did know. 

“Just look at you- squirming and totally fucking defenceless. I could do whatever I wanted to you and you couldn’t even stop me because my hand is stopping your one power.” Your eyes roll back in your head- for once not in exasperation but in pleasure. Please Adrian, do whatever you want with me. You feel your pussy getting wetter thinking about how he’ll split you in half with his fat cock after this. Your head is already spinning and he’s only using two fingers.

“I never thought you’d be like this. I never thought you’d be a little slut that creeps into my tent in the middle of the night. I thought you were stuck up but here you are, getting off on being held down and finger fucked by the guy you hate.”

Fuck, he really can talk . Adrian’s theory is put to the test as you feel a soft moan try to escape your throat. You’re worried that your own head might explode. But nothing happens. The sound is dampened against the palm of his hand. He feels the vibrations against his palm and realises that he was right. It spurs him on to go faster and he lowers his head to your pussy. You feel his hot tongue lick between your folds. He finds your clit and starts moving his tongue in quick firm circles. His fingers continue to curl and press upwards, tapping a beautiful rhythm as your muscles squeeze round his thick digits.

“Oh Birdie I’m gonna make you cum all over my fingers then I’m going to fuck this tight, wet little pussy.” His mouth returns to your clit but you’re already past the point of no return. His words, God damn his words, sneak up on you and push you over the edge, your first orgasm in over a year and it arrives quicker than it ever has before. Blinding, searing heat rips you apart from inside out as you’re hurled headfirst into your release. The walls of your pussy flare and contract around his fingers, you see stars as your chest heaves and you give another muffled desperate moan into Adrian’s hand. Fuck, you can’t believe you’re cumming for Vigilante. 

He gives a few slow licks up the entire length of your slit, releases his hand from your mouth and crawls up towards you. His arms either side of your head he gives you another slow, deep kiss. 

“Did you like that B?” Even if you could use your vocal chords, you’re not sure you’d be able to speak. He laughs as you gaze at him through heavy lids. “You are so adorable when you’re satisfied” he gently pinches your cheek “But I’m not done with you yet.”

He clambers off you and rummages around in his duffel bag and your abdomen clenches with delight when you see he’s holding duct tape. “I need to warn you that this might hurt when you take it off.” He regularly kills people for doing graffiti but looks genuinely concerned at the idea of duct tape causing you discomfort. Maniac. You nod and point to your mouth, encouraging him to seal your lips.

He straddles you, peels a short length of duct tape and rips it off the roll with his teeth. “Ready?” Using his large, gentle hands he firmly presses the duct tape over your lips. Fuck, you feel constricted but it’s turning you on even more. A wicked idea flashes across your mind. You put your wrists together and eagerly extend your arms towards him.

He gasps in mock dismay, a wild smile crosses his face. “You are such a little slut for me, pretty Birdie. Are you normally this kinky?”

You flush bright pink. You’re not. But tonight you want to give Adrian total control, so you wait with your arms out, eyes pleading, and he obliges. He wraps the duct tape around your wrists and once again uses his teeth to detach the length from the roll of tape. 

“Holy fucking shit” he tosses the roll back into his bag and looks at you hungrily. He takes your tied arms and moves them above your head to give him a better view of your tits. “All those times I’ve dreamed about you naked in my bed, I never thought you’d be gift-wrapped.” 

You look up at him and feel truly helpless. Adrian’s head drops down to give the contour of your neck a long drag of his tongue, slow and hot and gentle. He trails kisses along your jaw and stops when his lips are almost touching your ear. “If there’s anything you don’t like, baby, just let me know. Hit me or something.” He whispers. This brief shift in tenderness and his consideration for your enthusiastic consent simply leaves you in a puddle. You nod and hold your breath waiting for his next move.

He starts to work down, kissing your neck, your collarbone and then you feel your blood burning fire through your veins as his lips envelope your left nipple. He squeezes your breasts, cupping them with both hands and his teeth gently graze your sensitive skin. Your back arches and he lifts his head up, watching you writhe. His calloused fingers pinch both of your nipples and he plants sloppy, wet kisses on both of your breasts. Adrian’s kisses then land on your ribs and trail down your stomach. You’re already soaking fucking wet again. You try to move your legs apart, eager to let him see how ready you are but his knees on either side of yours block the way. Your pussy is slick, swollen and desperate for him to fill you up again. 

“Patience, Birdie.” He kisses just below your bellybutton and when his eyes close and he moves back up to suck your other nipple you let out a muffled whine. 

“Fuck, your skin is so soft,” He buries his face into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent “And how do you smell so good after kicking ass all day? Like leather…and lavender..”

You wriggle out from underneath him impatiently, pulling your legs up to your chest and wrapping your ankles behind his waist. He pulls his head away from your neck and looks at you with impish delight. You bring your tied wrists over his head and behind his neck so you can better leverage your body into his. He kisses the duct tape across your lips. 

“So demanding” his whisper chastises you with a cocky smile.

He moves back, untangling himself from you so he can get a better look at you lying flushed and naked on his sleeping bag. You draw your knees up to your chest so he can see how desperate and soaking your pussy is and he holds your legs above you by the calves. Adrian surveys the sight before him appraisingly and slaps the meat of your thigh with an open palm. 

You whine into the sticky covering on your mouth and in response he traces his fingers gently up and down your soaking wet entrance.

“God, you have a beautiful pussy. It’s like it was fucking made for me to be in it.”

He puts two fingers inside your leaking cunt and slowly draws them back out. You look down and blush at how wet you are as he takes himself in his now wet hand and strokes his length with your slick. 

Adrian let’s go of your calves and catches the backs of your knees and spreads your legs, pulling you towards him. He kneels in front of you and runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds. A jolt of panic sears through you when you feel his thick head at your entrance. You grab a fistful of Adrian’s wavy hair, and force him to look in your eyes. Be gentle , your eyes plead. It’s been a long time since you’ve had sex and you hope he has the sense not to fucking destroy you with his cock.

“I’ll go slow” Adrian presses his forehead against your head and stares deeply into your eyes, as if reading your mind. He pulls back and tenderly brushes your hair away from your masked face then he returns his hand to guide himself into your pussy.

And then- pressure . Blunt and thick as he breaks you open over his cock. 

Your hand grabs his hair as if by instinct and Adrian watches your face intently as you squeeze your eyes shut. Come on, you think to yourself, you’ve literally been stabbed multiple times- you can take a fucking cock .

“This okay B?” You nod determinedly as he pushes deeper. “Fuck, you’re so warm. And so… fucking…tight.” His words are as slow as the incredibly controlled way he pushes himself into you and you feel like your insides are being rearranged. Fuck, you’re know you’re going to ache for days after this.

You let out a deep exhale and at the same time he groans as he fully sheathes himself into you. You’re grateful for this respite as he pauses and you can tell from his furrowed brow and shaking arms that he’s struggling not to cum already. 

He’s only paused for seconds but his self restraint sends waves of arousal washing over you. You wriggle again, this time moving your hips in tiny circles, feeling him throb as you squeeze around him as hard as you can.

“Such an impatient little Birdie,” he says, gritting his teeth as you squirm underneath him “Trying to make me cum first.” Your wriggling has given him new found determination to make you cum again- before he does.

He starts to ramp up his pace so in return you squeeze your muscles tightly and move your hips, attempting to fuck yourself back into him, even though the stretch of him feels searing.

“Is this what you needed? Needed the fucking you’ve dreamed of since even before you got your powers.”

His words do something to you. You let out an involuntary whine into the duct tape and he laughs. “ Yeah this is what you needed baby.” 

How does he switch like this? So sweet and then just so, so filthy , so degrading . You remind yourself again that Vigilante is probably a psychopath. But you can’t deny that the way he talks is really, really turning you on - and he knows it. 

Adrian’s hands thread through your hair and his biceps are at either side of your face. For the first time you wish your mouth wasn’t covered with duct tape so you could kiss his arms and feel his tongue in your mouth again. You plant your tape covered mouth into his neck anyway, inhaling the scent of smoke and his bergamot fragrance. 

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since I met you Birdie. The way you roll those pretty eyes at me. I knew I could make you like me. And I know you really, really like how my cock is filling you up. The others would never believe how much you fucking like me now.”

The sound of his thrusts become shamefully wetter in response to his words. 

“Fuck, I felt that. Who knew you’d get so wet hearing me talk. You. Pretty. Little. Slut.”

Your toes curl as he punctuates the last four words with brutal thrusts. He takes your tied wrists and pins them above your head, they brush the zips on the tent door. The silhouette of his broad shoulders and outstretched arm makes you notice the size difference between you. His head drops down to your throat and he sucks on your neck as his fingers dig bruises into your forearms.

“Thank God your mouth is covered or the whole team would know that you’ll be spending tonight cumming all over my cock.”

He moves his other hand down between your bodies and you exhale pitifully at the canvas ceiling when the tip of his finger starts rubbing small firm circles on your clit. Oh fuck, this is it. The same flicker of warning from earlier as he continues to thrust inside you. 

“Y’know I’d gladly let you fucking decimate my entire apartment building if it meant I could hear you cumming for me.” 

From anyone else this would be a joke but Vigilante is a fucking lunatic and you know he’s being sincere. Is there anyone you could be with who would honestly let you do that? You feel tears swimming in your eyes and you start to see stars. You’d be audibly sobbing with lust and relief if you could.

“Fuck yeah, come on, fucking cum on my cock,” He whispers in your ear, his tone becomes gentle “Come on pretty Birdie, do it again for me.” 

Everything surges hot and molten while he keeps pounding himself into you. You cum and the moan that escapes you is so fierce that the masking tape on your face vibrates. Your fingers search wildly behind your head and grab onto the nearest thing- the tent zipper - as your walls convulse and squeeze around his cock in pleasure. 

Adrians hips stutter “Holy shit you get so tight when you cum.” You give him another squeeze “Oh fuck, I’m gonna— I’m- wh-where? Do you want me to cum on your stomach?”

You don’t have time to grab your phone and tell him on your notes app about how your super sonic accident was permanent birth control. So instead you shake your head, wrap your legs even more tightly around his waist and lift your hips off the ground pressing yourself to him tightly. Inside . Please cum inside me Adrian. 

He understands, like you knew he would, and the desperate pull of your legs makes him plow his hips deep into yours. His whispered moans jump up to a fortissimo as he buries his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder and he empties his load inside you. “Fuckfuckfuck” his curses turn into an incomprehensible stream of consciousness. His hips shudder, he gives a final loud groan and you feel his cock throbbing as the hot ropes of his release coat your insides. 

He’s heavy on top of you but comfortable. Like a muscular weighted blanket. You could lie here forever, he breathes heavily into the crook of your neck and his warm cum leaks out of you, making a mess of his sleeping bag. 

Your masked face is damp and notice that tears have been streaming down your cheeks. A build up of emotions passes over you like a wave. You’re satisfied and just honestly grateful that you met someone as reckless as Vigilante. How many people could say they had someone willing to risk their life just to please them?

Suddenly- footsteps. Fuck, Adrian had been loud. 

“Blackbird? Fuck! Her tent is open and she’s not here!” Shit- that’s Chris’ voice.

“Peacemaker, over here!” yells Harcourt and you can hear her voice only feet from your head. Damn she was stealthy.

You and Adrian barely have time to look at each other before the tent door is wrenched open and Agent Harcourt is pointing a gun inside. 

Chris and Harcourt stare open mouthed in shock. Adrian on top of you, flushed, sweating, glasses askew. You with tears in your eyes, masking tape over your mouth and your hands bound and stretching for the tent door. You and Adrian come to the same realisation as you lock eyes. 

You wave your hands at Chris and Harcourt wildly, in a ‘Stop!” motion. Chris, as usual, misreads your meaning entirely and seems to think your waving means ‘Help!’ .

“God damnit Vij!”

Adrian looks up, horrified “No, no no no. This is so not what it looks like!” 

“I’m not gonna enjoy kicking your ass,” says Chris, putting his helmet on “But someone has to do it.”

Fuck. 

“ Chris, stop!” you whisper urgently and Chris is hit by the sonic wave, sending him flying into the air and landing on his back over ten feet away. You all watch as he sits up slowly, dazed but uninjured.

“Holy shit,” laughs Adrian in amazement “I didn’t know you had a British accent.”

Idiot. 

[transias]

As a Vance hopper introject (look it up)

Don’t sexuilze me or ANYY one in from the black phone movie, we’re minors, and the people that played them are minors too, thaTs jusf fucking pathetic

Oh and if you think the grabber is hot, burn in hell<3333! He likes kids!! Stop thinking with your horny asses

[transias]

1.3k CELEBRATION: 🪄 peter parker + the quote “you are strong / but you are also tired / and that is okay” ↳ for @ahoefortomholland

[transias]

fav/reblog if u save/use.

[transias]

Doctor: How many sexual partners have you had?

Me, who reads smut fun fictions about different characters on daily basis…

[transias]

guys check it, new wanda fancast dropped — gratiela brancusi; yet another romani actress the m.cu could have cast if they at all gave a f*ck!

[transias]

SHE GREW UP SURROUNDED BY ROMANI CULTURE AND THINKING HERSELF ROMANI—THAT’S BEEN ESTABLISHED FOR YEARS

[transias]

comic wanda maximoff >>> mcu wanda maximoff, always.

[transias]

Wanda Maximoff has been leaked for the Marvel's Avengers game, the one starring Kamala Khan. I have no idea if they've cast an actress yet but I think the Scarlet Witch community should push for a Romani actress to lend her voice and likeness to the character.

It may also be a good time to reach out to actresses such as Alina Serban, Franciska Farkas, Mihaela Dragan, Alba Flores, and Simonida Selimovic to make them aware that there is a chance for representation.

It may not fix the MCU mistakes. In fact, it won't change the MCU at all, but imagine a Romani actress actually being cast as Wanda in a popular video game. Imagine finally having the Scarlet Witch we deserve in popular media, portrayed the way she deserves. The way the fans who Wanda represents deserve.

I don't have instagram or twitter anymore, but I think it's very important to reach out and campaign for this.

Every possible version of Wanda should be Roma. Do not let them cast another white actress.

The game is Marvel's Avengers, its made by Square Enix and Crystal Dynamics. Specifically, Crystal Dynamics, Eidos-Montréal, Square Enix Europe, Nixxes Software BV, Crystal Northwest.

Please. If you care, now is the time to make change.

[transias]

ok but like. imagine how heartbreaking “you break the rules, you become the hero. i break the rules, i become the enemy.” would have been if they had kept her as romani? especially with all the stereotypes surrounding romani people being criminals and evil? it could have been such an analysis on how society and people in power treat the same actions based on the race of the person doing them.

[transias]

hey everybody! I'm back. Your local broke bisexual black girl who needs help paying for her phone bill and meds (specifically ones that keep me from psychosis you know... the hot girl mental illness).

my cashapp is slasherscream and so is my kofi. if you can help wonderful, if you can't please reblog. I know I've made a lot of posts lately but that's just because I'm poor so I can't help it.

My meds are 60 dollars and my phone bill is 150 (T-mobile prices...)

My birthday is on the 17th of May... I would like my meds for my birthday 👉🏾👈🏾

(Please don't tag with 'donations' it will get the post blacklisted)

[transias]

glenn & maggie matching icons 🧟‍♂️❤️‍🩹⏱

[transias]

crush (peter parker)

summary: peter has been visiting you as spider-man long enough to develop a crush on you. the problem? you have a crush on somebody else.

notes: u guys…i love peter parker so much okay!!! also this is a short fic bc i have a longer one in the works. yes i realize this is 4k words but like, that’s short for me ok bye happy reading! 

warnings: typos, probably.

Peter Parker sat on the ledge of your fire escape, careful to avoid the patches of snow from the previous day. It had been a long night of patrolling and his lower back ached to no end. The familiar space spread warmth to Peter’s chest as he attempted to collect his breath, the inside of his suit scratching against his skin. 

It had been dark out for a few hours. Peter knew that May would be going to sleep in an hour, leaving the perfect opportunity for him to slip back into his bedroom undetected. He had lied to her earlier, saying that he’d be studying with a group of friends he had made at university earlier that semester. But he had other places he needed to be. 

He would be lying if he said his only reason for patrolling was to keep his city out of danger. While that was a big motivation for him to put his suit on, the other reason was because he wanted to see you.

Seguir leyendo

[transias]

another world [1]

after your boyfriend, peter parker, is killed by the green goblin, you take on the mantel of spiderwoman. a few years later, you're suddenly shoved into a multi-versal war after being called to another universe to help a (smaller) version of peter. a familiar face leaves you shaken.

[2] [3]

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

CONTENT: NO WAY HOME SPOILERS!!!!!, mentions of suicide, angst angst angst angst, may parker deserves so much better and i apologize for putting her through this

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

──────────────────────

────────��─────────────

Here lies Peter Parker. Beloved son.

We shall meet again.

[Y/N] stands over his grave. There's a chill in the air, autumn has finally taken New York. She shivers, her coat a few sizes too big, and two hands make their way to her lapel to tuck the girl in tighter. May Parker let's out a sigh.

"We've got to get you a thicker coat," May says. There's a tired look in her eyes. The lines on her face seem deeper. She's pushing on fifty-two now. The grief has aged her far more. "You're going to freeze when December hits."

"This one was his, May," [Y/N] replies. The words make May take a temporary pause. "I can't just find a new one."

Wind sends the leaves skittering along the graves. The red and brown contrast greatly to the pure white bouquet of cleomes sat on the headstone. Spider flowers, [Y/N] thinks with a small smile. He'd appreciate the irony.

"I think Peter would rather you be warm and cozy in your own well-fitting coat than freezing to death in one of his old, worn, baggy ones," May eventually responded. [Y/N] wrapped her hands around her body, subconsciously pulling the coat even closer. She could still pretend it smelled like him if she tried hard enough. The warm scent of cinnamon with hints of oak and amber. The smell of home.

The older woman gave her a sad smile and comfortingly rubbed her back. "But, I understand. It's hard to let go of it when you can imagine it's him. You wouldn't believe how many of Ben's old flannels are still folded up in my dresser."

Quiet crept in again. [Y/N] could still remember Ben Parker's death, how Peter shut down, how May crumbled. How could that have been nearly eight years ago? May still had her days of darkness, when the grief became too much. She had lost a husband and a son. [Y/N] had watched this woman quite literally go through every mother's nightmare. How did she get out of bed? How did she go to work? How was she still breathing?

"How do you do it?" [Y/N] broke the silence, unable to hold her thoughts back any longer. "It's been three years, May, and I still wake up expecting him to be next to me. I still wait for a call, a text, letting me know he's going to be late to dinner again this week because he's gotten caught up with some robbery downtown. I come home from work and I wait. I wait for Peter to walk in with Chinese takeout, give me a kiss that takes my breath away, and sit down to explain his latest gadget idea to me. I look at the door and I wait. I wait it for to open and it never does."

A sob falls from her lips. Tears are streaming down her face openly now, though [Y/N] can't remember when they started. May embraces her, tightly, as if she's keeping the girl in one piece. They fall together as [Y/N]'s knees give in from the weight of it all. The ground is cold. The grass is dead. Peter's headstone has collected enough dirt to look beige. There is no sign of life, no sign of who he was. All of it is dull. It makes the sobs wrack through her body even harder.

The two women sit there for quite some time. May cradles [Y/N] in her arms, whispering soothing words in her ear as the waves of sorrow slowly become smaller and smaller. There's been a quiet understanding between them ever since Peter's passing. They were family now. Neither would ever grieve alone. Neither would ever be alone. This was not the first time May Parker had held her son's partner in her arms as she grieved the loss of her love, and it would not be the last.

"You won't believe me, but it does get easier," May speaks while gently petting the girl's hair. Her breath had finally evened out, she was fresh out of tears. "It took me almost three years to come to terms with Ben's passing. I'm still learning to live without him. Healing is not linear, darling. I know it seems like this is never ending, but you will make it through this. We'll both make it through this, together, hand in hand. I am never leaving you and you're sure as hell not leaving me on my watch."

[Y/N] let out a shaky laugh, pulling back from May to look level with her. There were a few tear streaks down the older woman's face and [Y/N] felt a pang of guilt. She hated upsetting May or making her worry even more than she already did. May gently pushed the hair out of her face and [Y/N] took her hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, May," [Y/N] replied, placing a gentle kiss on the older woman's knuckle. "I'd miss your meatloaf too much."

May snorted, standing up and helping [Y/N] off the ground. "Now, there is no point in lying to me to butter me up," She joked, brushing the grass and dirt off the girl's coat. "Why don't you come back to the house for a bit? I'll make some tea. We could finally take a crack at that pumpkin bread recipe you've been talking about."

As if on cue, the shrill screech of a police siren broke May's created facade of a peaceful night. The women shared a look, [Y/N]'s full of remorse while May's held sorrow.

"Duty calls." [Y/N] sighed. She really did want to try that pumpkin bread recipe.

There was a beat. May opened her mouth and closed it again, trying to find the right words to say. She didn't have to. [Y/N] already knew.

"I know, May," The girl spoke up. "He wouldn't want this for me, and you're right, but he also wouldn't want New York to be completely on its own. This city needs a hero, a symbol of hope. It's selfish, but this is for me too. Makes me feel like I'm carrying on his legacy, I guess. As long as there's a Spider, there's still a piece of Peter around."

It had been hard informing May of the double life Peter had been living after he passed, but what else could [Y/N] have told her? "Ah yes, your son died in a very tragic car accident and that's why his spine was shattered into pieces and I was left completely unharmed although I was also at the scene." Lying to May after losing him just felt wrong.

So [Y/N] told her everything, about Spiderman, about the Green Goblin and the Osborns. And a few months later, when [Y/N] decided to take her late boyfriend's place and protect New York, the first thing she did was tell May. May, of course, pleaded with the girl not to go any further with the idea of Spiderwoman, but [Y/N] had her mind set. She was going to protect New York, not only for her home state's sake, but for Peter's memory as well.

May sighed. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop [Y/N] and there was no point in wasting both of their time. She'd been trying to put an end to this for two years now, but the girl was stubborn. Peter had called it "overly ambitious". May couldn't help but think that Ben could've put an end to this somehow, but it was just her now. She'd find a way eventually.

"If you need anything," May finally spoke. "I'll be home all night. I don't have night rounds at the hospital for the rest of this week. You stop by, no matter how late, okay? Peter's old bed is always there for you."

[Y/N] felt a pang in her chest at the mention of Peter's childhood bedroom. She'd spent at least four months after his death practically rotting away in his bed. There were so many memories from their teenage years in that room. She didn't know if she could face them again without deteriorating.

"Thanks, May," [Y/N] gave her a small smile. "I'll shoot you a text if I decide to stop by. In the meantime, pamper yourself. You work too hard."

The women shared a hug, May giving the girl a warm kiss on the cheek before they finally parted ways. [Y/N] watched May make her way out of the graveyard before leaning down to Peter's headstone. She gently sat her forehead against the stone and closed her eyes.

"I really, really hope you're proud of me."

──────────────────────

It was late. She'd been out for hours now, patrolling around the entire state of New York. Stopped a few break-ins, prevented some drug deals, the usual crime scene. It had been quiet ever since Norman Osborn's death. His passing was sudden, an apparent suicide. The news had sent [Y/N] into a fit of rage.

"That coward took the easy way out. After everything he's done, after Peter, it's over because of a fucking self-inflicted gunshot to the head? It was supposed to be me, May. I wanted to watch him bleed."

[Y/N] sat close to the top of the Empire State building. This had been her and Peter's hiding spot. She could remember the first time he had brought her up here, sometime during junior year, and the view had completely taken her breath away. Peter had taken her hand and told her he loved her for the first time. It truly felt like they could've conquered the world together.

She took a breath, attempting to let herself relax for the first time in a few days. She was exhausted; her head was pounding and her body ached. It was a lot more difficult to do the job that Peter left behind without any super-human abilities. She was extremely lucky all of his equipment hadn't taken damage, trying to follow Peter's notes and blueprints felt like reading a foreign language. It was a miracle she hadn't taken life-threatening injuries yet, though she had ended up on May's doorstep needing help getting patched back up more times than she'd like to admit. Thank God for May Parker.

The wind up this high was chilling. It seemed to bite, but it held a certain familiarity that brought comfort. [Y/N] wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the structure of the building. The red and blue of the suit reflected against the metal. She had managed to adjust Peter's old suit enough to get it to fit her smaller frame. She was cold. She never used to be cold up here.

Her eyes were getting heavier and it was dangerous to stay up this high, but she couldn't seem to care. She gave in almost at once, letting her eyes drift shut. I'll just rest my eyes for a minute, she thought. It's not like anyone will find me up here.

There was a brief moment of complete silence. No city sounds, no wind, she could barely hear the steady intake of her own breath. It was calm, almost as if she had made her way to the end of the world. A bright, nearly blinding light made [Y/N] squeeze her eyes shut tighter. What the hell?

The noise resumed. Cars honked, people yelled. [Y/N] rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the effect of the light, and noticed that the sun had risen. Had she accidentally fallen asleep and slept until morning? She'd have to send May a text. She always sent May an "I'm Ok! :)" after patrol. The woman must be worried sick.

[Y/N] made her way off of the building, slipping her mask back on and beginning to swing home. The sounds of Jonah Jameson's voice echoed through Times Square. Since when had he begun filming his episodes? She could've sworn the reporter only did his podcast.

J. Jonah Jameson sat at a desk, a stack of papers in his hand. His voice seemed to echo through the city. "Spider-Man continues his era of chaos with no remorse—"

That was weird. She had sworn everyone had switched to referring to the vigilante as Spiderwoman ever since the change had become more apparent. Also, when did Jameson go bald? He looked just... slightly off.

The reporter's rant on the hero continued. "When will you cease this meaningless destruction? After your betrayal to Mysterio, it's a miracle you have any public support remaining at all."

Mysterio? Who the hell was Mysterio?

The girl stopped, perching herself on the edge of a building and looking at the screen expectantly. She couldn't remember fighting a "Mysterio". There hadn't been a big bad in New York since the Goblin.

"It's time this little round of show-and-tell was put to an end," Jameson continued. "When will you face the facts? For the betterment of this city, you should be put behind bars. It's time you turned yourself in, Peter Parker."

[Y/N] felt her stomach drop.

The screen flashed. A photo of a teenaged boy was put on display. The words "PUBLIC ENEMY #1" were plastered over his face. Footage followed of the man Mysterio, accusing Peter of attempting to kill him. He revealed his identity and screen went to black.

[Y/N] could see Jameson's face appear back on the screen, but she couldn't hear a word he spoke. Something was extremely wrong here. She couldn't stop thinking about the boy that they had shown.

That's wasn't Peter.

[transias]

honest with me. (III)

pairings: spider-man!miguel diaz x reader

warnings: miguel sorta being a dick, terribly written fight scene.

summary: after the events of samantha's party, miguel has completely been ignoring you and your friends. it isn't until miguel comes to a dreadful realization that he asks for you and your friends' help.

note: so this is the final part! but don't worry, this isn't the last you haven't seen of spider-man!miguel. i'll probably make some imagines and headcanons! also just some people who asked me to be tagged in the last part! @dramasmarvel @melixfandoms

after the events of sam's party, you spent the rest of the weekend stuck at work.

you thought maybe it'd be better if you kept your mind busy and did things, it sort of worked. hawk and eli swung by saturday afternoon and you told them everything.

they were a bit disappointed, to say the least. but they stuck right by you, asking if you were okay and comforting you. you were so grateful for them.

the week you came back from school, you tried talking to miguel but he just walked past you.

then you tried again but this time he gave you some dumb excuse about how sam needed his help with prom.

the entire day, you just watched as miguel walked down the halls with sam, his arm wrapped around her waist.

and after four weeks of miguel completely ignoring you and your friends. he had his big 'promposal' in the cafeteria.

he stood in the cafeteria with a huge bouquet of flowers for her in his arms. what was left of your broken heart simply disintegrated as you watched him kiss her and everyone cheer.

demetri and hawk tried distracting you with everything they could, and while you reassured them you were fine they could tell you weren't.

you were all hanging out at hawk's house, playing video games and simply hanging out.

"we should all go to the prom together." hawk spoke up.

you furrowed your brows, "all? you mean you, demetri, and me?"

he nods, "yeah! i mean we don't have dates and we could end up having a little fun. what's the harm in that?"

"i thought you were going to the prom with moon?" demetri asked.

"yeah about that... she actually has to visit her grandparents this weekend." hawk replied.

you thought, "but- prom is in two days. i don't even have an outfit!"

"well then what are we waiting for? come on! let's go find our fits!" hawk pulled you and demetri up from the couch.

you weren't gonna lie, you wanted to go to prom with miguel but things changed. so you guess going to prom with your two best friends wouldn't be so bad, would it?

so you set out to help your friends get their tuxedos and your outfit.

"what about this one?" demetri asked, stepping out of the changing room with the most ridiculous suit ever.

you stiffled a laugh, "demetri, i'm sorry but that suit does not look good on you. or literally anyone."

"yeah, (y/n)'s right. you look like you just stepped out of dumb and dumber." hawk joked.

you looked around for other different suit styles to try and help demetri.

when you finally found one you thought would good look on him, you heard someone behind you ask, "you're going to the prom?"

turning around, you meet miguel's brown eyes, quickly forcing yourself to look away from him.

"i don't wanna talk to you right now." you start walking away, miguel placing his hand on your arm.

"please! can i just apologize? i know-"

"save it, diaz! if you were actually sorry you would've said it to me before? why wait until now?" you angrily mumble to him.

"because- i'm in love with you too! i just- i didn't know how to tell you this or even apologize." he replied.

a terrible pain churned in your heart. "well if you're so in love with me, then why are you with her?"

miguel gulped, "because- i like her too. but i love you. like and love are two different things." he sighed, "i can't just tell her this. it'll hurt her."

you scoffed, "like you hurt me?" you sigh, "i'll see you around."

you returned to your friends, handing demetri the suit you looked for him.

-

the night of the prom was dreadful for you.

you were worried about seeing miguel and sam again. but you also didn't want it to ruin your night completely.

you were gonna have fun with your friends and that was it!

you heard a horn outside and walked out, laughing as you saw the giant limo and your friends out. "you did not just get a limo for this." you look at hawk.

hawk smirked, "i figured if we're gonna look this fly we better show up in style." he shrugged, "but anyways, you look absolutely great (y/n)!"

you look down at (y/f/c) outfit and smile, doing a playful curtsy, "why, thank you." you smile.

demetri pulled out a small plastic box, "if you'll allow me."

you nod, giving him your arm and watching as he placed a corsage on your wrist.

"thank you guys for this. really, i appreciate it." you smile at them.

"you're our friend. friends look out for each other." demetri gave you a smile.

"well what are we waiting for! come on, let's show these losers how it's done." hawk exclaimed, the three of you getting into the limo.

the three of you loudly sang along to hawk's playlist, the driver was probably annoyed more than anything right now. but thankfully, your ride was coming to an end.

demetri stepped out first, offering you his hand as you stepped out, hawk following afterwards.

you took a deep breath, lacing you and your friends’ arms together as you walked in.

the decoration was absolutely beautiful. you hated larusso but you had to give her props for making the gymnasium not look like one.

“you want something to drink?” hawk asked.

“yeah uhh fruit punch please!” demetri smiled.

“i asked (y/n), get it yourself.” hawk scoffed.

demetri’s smile dropped and hawk sighed, “fine- i’ll get it for you. (y/n)?”

“i’ll take fruit punch too, thank you!” you reply.

hawk returned soon with the drinks in his hand, handing each of them to you.

you heard a throat clear behind you, “h-hey guys.”

you turn around to be faced with miguel, a horrified look on his face.

"are you alright?" you ask.

miguel shakes his head, "i uhm- i don't know! listen, i know i've been a real shitty friend. especially to you, (y/n)." he glances at you, "i just- i really need your help now, more than ever."

"what makes you think we'll help you?" hawk crossed his arms.

you gently smack his arm, "no. i mean- yeah these past couple of weeks you've been acting like a dick but... it's not like we can ignore our entire pasts together."

hawk and demetri looked at each other, "are you sure you wanna help him?" demetri asked.

you shrug, "it's what friends do. they look out for each other, like you said."

the boys sigh and nod, "fine. what do you need help with?"

"follow me." miguel said.

as the four of you made your way to the computer lab, miguel explained the whole thing to them. how you figured out he was spider-man and that sam's dad was actually an illegal weapons dealer. he was ready to strike now and go after an important technological company.

needless to say, the news your two friends mostly focused on was the fact that miguel was spider-man.

"you're telling me- that all this time, the posters i have on my room are from you?!" hawk asked.

"i- i guess so. wait you have spider-man posters?" miguel teased.

"called it." demetri added.

hawk rolled his eyes, "whatever, let's just do this!"

you connected a call between miguel and you and your friends, as you were about to hand him the earpiece you saw he was already in his suit.

"do you just always wear that under everything?" you ask.

he nods, "yeah pretty much. gotta be ready for anything, y'know?"

"right, of course." you reply, "well, go get 'em tiger." you smile softly at him.

he smiles back before slipping his mask back on and swinging out of the window.

you return to demetri, who's on the computer tracking the plane of the company.

"can you see anything yet?" he asked miguel.

"yeah! he's drilling some kind of hole onto the plane. i don't know how i'll get so high up there." miguel replied.

"well what if you use your webs and yourself as a slingshot?" you ask.

miguel nods, "i think that'll work!"

a moment of silence goes by but as you hear a thud and a grunt, you're sure miguel has reached the top of the plane.

"i did it!" he exclaims.

the three of you let a sigh of relief out, "what's the plan now?" hawk asks.

"well i'm having a little bit of trouble getting into the plane itself but- OH SHIT!" miguel yelps, a loud buzzing noise being heard through the intercom.

miguel kept dodging every single attack his opponent would send, "just casually ditching the school dance, to fight my girlfriend's dad!" he exclaimed.

you sat by your chair, feeling completely useless while all you could do is sit and listen to him fight mr. larusso.

"the plane's gonna crash! we're heading down now!" miguel says.

"do you see any clear land where you're about to crash?" you ask.

"yeah, it seems like it might be coney island!" he replies.

"i'll meet you there!" you quickly get up and take off to the dance floor again.

you look around and spot robby, dancing next to tory nichols.

"hi! sorry to interrupt but robby, i really need your car! can i borrow it?" you ask.

"depends. what are you willing to trade for it?" he smirks.

you groan, "i'll do your entire homework for a month and finish your biology essay!"

robby shrugs, "sounds like a good deal to me."

and with that, robby keene tosses you his car keys.

"oh thank you! goodbye guys, enjoy your night!" you quickly wave goodbye.

you drive as fast you can to the island, thankfully the streets were empty, leaving you to speed up as fast as you needed.

as you reach the parking lot, your stomach drops at the sight of the fiery crash. you notice a floating figure trying to make its getaway, you run towards it and notice miguel trying to pull them down.

the heavy armor around the figure fails, exploding and dropping down on the ground.

"oh shit." miguel mutters. he runs after the man and so do you.

mr. larusso seems to be okay, miguel quickly gets him out of the armor and drops him down to the ground.

"miguel!" you exclaim, running after him.

"oh (y/n)!" he replies, quickly pulling you into a hug.

"are you alright? are you hurt?" you ask, looking at him up and down.

he takes off his mask, "i'm alright! i promise, look at me." a smile forming on his lips.

you can't help but smile back, "i'm happy you are."

"(y/n). i'm sorry, i should've never hurt you and i never should've picked sam over hawk and demetri and especially you." he starts, "and if you'll still have me, i want to be with you. but doing it properly this time. is that alright?" miguel asks.

you stop for a moment, thinking about it for a second and nodding, "i would love that."

miguel leans in and plants a gentle kiss on your lips, you raise and eyebrow before leaning in yourself and wrapping him in a way longer kiss.

"come on, we have to get out of here the police will be here soon." you take his hand.

"wait- i just have to do one last thing." he insists.

miguel grabs mr. larusso and webs him up to one of the crates, he writes something down on a legal notepad that one of the workers must've forgotten and gently webs that up to mr. larusso's chest.

"now, let's go!" miguel exclaims, taking your hand into his and running.

you take him back to your house. you call demetri and hawk to update them, the two of them now on the way to your house.

you had changed out of your prom outfit to a much more comfortable one.

miguel sat down in your bed, you check his body for anymore injuries.

"well, this was one hell of a prom night, huh?" miguel jokes.

you chuckle softly and nod, "yep."

he sighs, "sam's gonna be mad i blew her off."

"well maybe sam's dad shouldn't be manufacturing illegal weapons and trying to steal high technology." you snarkily replied.

miguel laughs and wraps you under his arm, "i'll talk to her and fix this, i promise."

your bedroom door busts open and in come demetri and hawk talking loudly.

"dude! that was absolute madness!" demetri exclaims, both of your friends still hyped up on adrenaline.

"it's all over the news! spider-man stops daniel larusso from stealing high tech!" hawk adds.

-

the following week, sam and her family had moved away to live with some distant relatives.

you had to admit, you sort of felt bad for her. it was unfair that she had to move away from this life because of the consequences of her father.

miguel and you went official, at least only between hawk and demetri. the rest didnt really need to know.

miguel and you sat on the rooftop of a building, him in his spider-man suit as you both looked at the view.

out of the blue, miguel asks, "do you wanna swing with me?"

you pause for a moment, thinking of all the ways this could go wrong but in the end you shrug, "sure!"

you wrap your arms tightly around your lover, taking a deep breath before letting a small scream as soon as he starts swinging.

after a few seconds you relax, you're safe in miguel's arms and happier than ever.

and you know what? you wouldn't have it any other way.

#cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai headcanon #cobra kai imagine #xolo mariduena x reader #miguel diaz #miguel diaz x reader #miguel diaz x y/n #miguel diaz x you #miguel diaz imagine #spider man!migueldiaz #spider man!miguel diaz x reader #spider man!miguel diaz