#he’s so right for the role i can’t wait to see him own it

[just-jordie-things]

friendly neighborhood spiderman - fushiguro megumi

word count: 25k i need a lobomy warnings: swearing, men making reader uncomfortable, some blood n bruises summary: besides being morally gray, megumi has never crossed any personal boundaries while protecting the city disguised as the spiderman. that is, until it comes to her. a thorn in his side, a plague to his mind, and a skip in his heart. wait, what?

notes: SPIDERMAN AU! rivals to unknown friends to unknown lovers to..??

___

With great power comes great responsibility…

To that, Fushiguro Megumi said; no shit.  

Living a double life wasn’t always the easiest thing in the world, but the justice part came to him naturally.  He didn’t like to call his abilities superpowers, there was something too childish about it, but since gaining them, Megumi had known there was some kind of reason.

Maybe it was because he had a stronger sense of right and wrong than most of the people he knew.  His peers at the college he attended seemed to have more interest in alcohol poisoning than anything else, so he supposed it made sense that if a radioactive spider bit had to give someone powers… it might as well have been him.

Besides, he was kind of a loner, so it wasn’t hard to hide his double life.  Every day he followed the same routine.

Wake up early to work out and do a quick patrol of the city, try to get to his classes on time, study in between lectures, study through lunch, and then as soon as his last class of the day was over he was off to swing through the city and keep an eye on things.

There had been an uptick in crime in Tokyo lately, and Megumi hadn’t quite put his finger on why.  It had never been the safest city in Japan, but since taking on this role it seemed like criminals everywhere were crawling out of the cracks and shadows to challenge him.  Not that anything had proven to be too challenging for The Spiderman… petty criminals made it easy.

“Late again, Fushiguro” 

There were, however, challenges that Megumi faced.

(y/n) swiveled around in her seat just as he’d sat down behind her.  To think he’d patted himself on the back for only being three minutes late today.  He should’ve known she was counting down the minutes to rub it in his face.

Resting her elbows on the back of her seat so she could smirk at him, she plops her chin on her fists and eyes him curiously.  Megumi can’t even be bothered to roll his eyes, he’d grown too tired of the same banter every day.

If she couldn’t take his place at the top of the class, (y/l/n) (y/n) would have to find some other way to antagonize Megumi- and she took that job all too seriously.  Unfortunately their class schedules were almost identical, seeing as they were both enrolled in as many accelerated courses as they could be, so Megumi spent most of his day in her vicinity.  And hell, she never let him forget it.

When he barely even looks at her, (y/n) turns back around in her seat, seemingly already prepping her notebook for her notes of the day.  She’s probably one of those girls that makes every page pretty and aesthetically pleasing, Megumi finds himself frowning at his own train of thought.  He only had seven more hours of putting up with her competitive attitude, and then he’d be free and far from it.

Nothing cleared his mind like swinging around the city.  She couldn’t possibly plague him once he was in his suit.  He tried to tell himself that through the rest of class, everytime her hand shot up in the air and she bragged her way through perfect, textbook answers.

It was no doubt that she’d be successful after graduation.  Megumi would rather die than admit it out loud, but he wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she ended up a millionaire- billionaire- with how well studied and determined she was to win.  If she put half the effort into her future career that she did just by bothering him, she’ll probably earn herself some title of youngest most successful woman. 

Hopefully by then she’ll be too busy to bother him anymore.  Although Megumi assumes that by the time graduation rolls around, he’ll never see her again.  

She was probably counting down the days until then, too. ___

Megumi spent his lunches alone.

This didn’t really bother him.  He didn’t have much interest in making friends, and never put much effort into it.  He liked to think he was kind, but he knew he wasn’t the most approachable guy in the world.  If he was honest, he kind of liked it that way.  So long as he kept his clothes dark, his face expressionless, and his hair untamed, then he seemed to ward people off.  No one approached his usual small table in the corner of the lunchroom unless they needed to borrow one of the extra empty chairs.  Even then, people seemed nervous to ask, and more often than not someone would scurry over and take one without a word, rushing it back to their table before Megumi could say something untoward.

The way he dressed himself wasn’t the only thing keeping people away.  His reputation might have something to do with it as well…

But that fight wasn’t his fault.  Not necessarily.  So what if someone got sent to the hospital? Megumi was a believer in consequences being served… and if no one else was going to deliver, then he supposed it came down to him to do the right thing.  This was before the spider bite, before Spiderman, so his strong sense of justice had nowhere to be channeled.

To Megumi, all that mattered was the guy learned his lesson.  And by the way, he did live.  He just had to spend a week in Intensive Care to pull through, is all.

Unapproachable was an understatement when it came to Megumi.

Maybe that’s why he found (y/n) all the more obnoxious.

He minds his business during his lunch hour- although he’d argue that he minds his business all the time.  Sitting in the corner with headphones large enough to make the point clear that he didn’t want to be bothered, his nose was always stuck in a book.  He’d eat with one hand and scribble in his notebooks with the other.  Even if he could afford a laptop he didn’t want to use one.  His time was better utilized if he could study and eat  simultaneously.

The corner of his eye twitches when he catches a glimpse of her in his peripheral.  He hates that the hair on the back of his neck stands up when she shows up, all of his nerves tingling like a warning.  His grimace is obvious as he finds her walking through the cafe with the little lunch box he knew was perfectly organized in multiple compartments.  She probably didn’t let any of her food touch.

She’s stopped on her mission to get to her table of know-it-all friends, and Megumi shouldn’t care that some guy called her over to his table to talk to her, it’s a bit of a boring scene, honestly.  He should get back to his studying now, but for some reason he’s compelled to watch from the back of the room as (y/n) drags her feet over to the guy’s table.

Megumi doesn’t recognize him, or really any of his surrounding friends, but by the looks of it they seemed like the kind of guys that wouldn’t have gotten into the classes he’s taking.

A year ago Megumi wouldn’t have been able to hear their conversation, not from across the busy cafe where a hundred other conversations are happening, but now he finds it easy to tune out all the other noise and eavesdrop on (y/n) and this frat boy.

“You always walk by without saying hello.  You tryin’ to hurt my feelings, princess?” The frat boy feigns heartbreak, holding his hand to his chest all the while grinning at her.

“Hello”

(y/n’s) reply is rigid.  She sounds as bored as Megumi feels watching her.  He almost scoffs at himself for even paying this much attention.  Clearly his little warning sense was misfiring, because nothing of interest is playing out here.  He was starting to consider this a waste of his heightened abilities.

“Awe, c’mon now gorgeous, you can do better than that,” Fratboy clicks his tongue in mockery.  “Why don’t you come sit?” 

“I’m sitting with my friends” 

Once again, her tone is as flat and dry as could be.  Megumi starts to wonder what Fratboy even wants with her.  Besides her personality being insufferable, she clearly isn’t interested in whatever he’s offering.  How many hints can this guy possibly miss?

“Rain check?” Fratboy asks hopefully.  It could almost be endearing if it wasn’t for the slimy grin he wore.  Megumi hated to think it, but (y/n) outranked this guy on every scale.

“Yeah.  Maybe” (y/n’s) voice falls to a mumble before she turns and walks away, this time at a faster pace than before.

As she finds her place at her table, she glances over her shoulder, feeling the prickle of someone’s eyes following her.  Megumi’s senses are one step ahead, and he’s quick to drop his head to focus back on his studies again.  He’d already lost five minutes to watch a pointless interaction, he didn’t need to lose more time by facing her evil eye if she’d caught him staring at her.

Idiot, he thinks as he takes a more aggressive bite of his food than necessary.  Getting behind on schedule for (y/n) of all people.  

He pushes the whole thing as far from his mind as he can as he gets back to work. ___

Tokyo had been rather quiet this evening.  Not that Megumi was complaining.  It was refreshing to see the streets peaceful, even this late into the night.

Eleven o’clock might not be the ideal dinner time for your average person, but for Spiderman, it was the norm.  And Megumi liked having a quiet night where he could have a quick street food dinner at the skyline overlooking the whole city.  It was peaceful up there.  With all the stars out, a perfect breeze coming in, and without the noise of pedestrians out and about down on the streets, Megumi could positively say this was his secret piece of heaven.

Most things about his life were a secret- but this especially he held this place close.

As expected there wasn’t a single pesky thought of school on his mind.  Like the sky, it was clear and peaceful.

At least it was, until he was mid-bite of his sandwich and he caught sight of something sketchy in his peripheral.

The familiar sensation of the hair on the back of his neck prickling rises when he turns to watch the scene unfold.  An unmarked car with blackout windows pulling up behind one of the many small 24-7 convenience stores and a few men with various clown masks getting out of it.  He huffs in annoyance, already swinging down and dumping the remainder of his perfectly good sandwich in the trash.

When were these idiots going to learn that robbing a convenience store was never worth it? He wonders as he lands on the roof of the building the men had just gone into.  He finds there’s only one guy left in the car, the getaway driver he’s sure.  Pulling his mask over his face he’s swift and silent in webbing up the door handles and tires of the car.  He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Just as silently, he drops to the ground, and enters the store.

It’s not the first time Spiderman has made an appearance during a stick up.  And Megumi’s sure it won’t be his last, seeing as no one ever learns.

“Well if it isn’t Spiderboy” One of the three clowns, Megumi assumes the ringleader, taunts him with a laugh.  He cocks his gun and aims it at him, but Megumi’s not the slightest bit threatened by a gun.  Typical, he thinks.

He barely acknowledges the silent threat at all, instead scoping out the store quickly.  

There’s one man behind the counter, his hands raised and shaking.  It appears he hasn’t handed over any money yet, which is good.  It makes for a quicker and cleaner exit for Megumi.

A couple is cowering behind the first aisle of snacks, trying to peek over the shelves without being seen- they’re not doing a very good job, but with Spiderman here now Megumi figures they’ve assumed their safety is guaranteed.  They aren’t wrong.

And then there was a girl in the very back, two aisles behind the couple, and apparently far less brave as well.  She’s crouched all the way to the ground, her hands clasped tightly over the back of her neck as if this was a tornado drill and not a robbery.  At least her head is down, Megumi thinks.  It’s not often he comes across civilians with a decent sense of self preservation.

“Did you hear me, Spiderboy-?” The ringleader’s second taunt is barely finished before there’s two webs flying at him.  One aimed for the barrel of his gun, covering his mask, gluing it straight to his face and muffling his mouth.

“Yeah yeah, I fuckin’ heard you,” Megumi grumbles.  Criminals loved to call him all sorts of names, he figured it comes with the job, but man did it get old.

There’s two other clowns, lackeys, he supposes.  These types hardly worked alone these days.  Megumi always wondered if they thought being in numbers would protect them from Spiderman.  Again, they never learn.

It takes him all of five seconds to web up their weapons as well.  Some glued to their hands and chest, rendering them useless, others so tied up in the sticky string that they couldn’t move any limbs if they tried.

“You think you can go around playing hero and people will respect you for it?” One of the lackeys snarls when Megumi tears the mask from his face.  He does the same for the other, but the second clown seems too afraid to speak.  Good.  “People ‘round here don’t give a shit, Spiderboy.  You think they’ll thank you? Heh? You think they’ll throw you a nice parade and chant your name?” 

Megumi rolls his eyes, patting down his pockets in search of any identifiable information.  Like he presumed, he finds a phone and wallet.  Sometimes it felt like these guys weren’t even trying to get away with their crimes.

Paying the lackey clown no mind, he turns over his shoulder and motions to the couple behind the shelf.  They raise their heads a little further, eyes wide and seemingly surprised Spiderman was addressing them.

“It’s safe to go,” He tells them with a wave of his hand.  “Go straight to the police station to report this” 

Does he have faith they’ll listen? No, he assumes they’ll be likely to go home.  Megumi doesn’t care much.  The police weren’t exactly his allies.  But if he was going to do their jobs for them, he was going to have to at least act like he was playing by their rules.

“Playing nice with the cops, tch,” The loudmouth lackey continues on.  “When they show up, they’ll take you before they take any of us- mmph!” 

“Much better,” Megumi sighs when his webbing does just the trick to shut the guy up.  Will he suffocate with it covering his mouth? Of course not, “Breathe through your nose,” He grumbles when the lackey’s face starts to take on a blue hue.  “Fucking idiots, you’re all the fucking same” He sighs, dropping the guy’s phone and open wallet on the ground before him, making sure it’s on perfect display for when the cops arrive.

“Th-thank you, Spiderman,” The shopkeeper behind the counter finally begins to lower his hands.  It appears he’s still shaking, but Megumi’s sure it’s the adrenaline rush he’s coming down from.  He’ll be fine in no time.  Especially once the police arrive and whisk these guys away.  “I- I don’t know how I can repay you” 

“It was nothing” Megumi replies, monotone as ever, but it’s the truth.  The whole ordeal was over in the matter of three minutes.  A robbery had barely begun when he’d shown up and shut it down.

The shopkeeper looks startled by the less-than-friendly attitude of his savior, but he doesn’t say a word, just picks up his phone to dial up the police.

Megumi’s on the move heading out of the store, ready to make himself scarce before law enforcement shows up, but of course he can’t leave just yet.

“Hey,” He calls towards the last civilian in the shop, the girl crouched on the ground, still covering herself.  “Hey,” He calls again when she doesn’t react, taking a few steps towards her.  “You’re good to go now,” He says, but even still, she doesn’t move.

It takes a tap on her shoulder for her to startle, finally uncovering the back of her head and looking up at him.  She stays on the ground, but now Megumi’s stunned to silence as well as he stares back at her.

(y/n)? He’s grateful for his mask for the millionth time but in a whole new way now.  What the hell was she doing out here in the middle of the night? 

She doesn’t say anything as she stares up at him with wide eyes.  He can’t tell if she’s still in shock, but the longer he waits for her to say something, she doesn’t.

“Are you… alright?” 

It’s a normal question to ask, he probably says it a hundred times a night, making sure no one’s left hurt or afraid.  But this time, asking her, it felt foreign coming out of his mouth.  He’s never been put in a position to… care… about her wellbeing before.  But now’s as good a time as any, seeing as she’s still got her knees to her chest and a shell shocked look on her face.

“You’re- you’re Spiderman” Is the first thing she says, her voice barely above a whisper.  Megumi could roll his eyes, but he’s too busy waiting for her to get up and get moving.

“And you’re not sitting around here all night, c’mon” He beckons her upwards, and to his surprise she takes it as an offer to grab his hand, and he finds himself pulling her up to her feet.

“You’re a lot taller than I thought you’d be” She mumbles, and if she could see his face she’d watch a look of puzzlement befall him.

“Get that a lot” He mutters, making an obvious motion to eye the hand that she still has gripping his gloved one.

“Oh, sorry,” She’s still quiet, quieter than he’s ever heard her speak before, and it’s starting to intrigue him.  

Was she this afraid of a pesky little robbery? He wondered, looking her up and down.  She wasn’t trembling, she showed little to no sign of distress at all.  For a girl that had nearly gone full armadillo just a few minutes ago, she didn’t seem all that afraid.

“I’m just- uh-” She clears her throat, and Megumi thinks it’s the first time he’s ever heard her stammer, or misspeak at all.  “I’m a big fan” She finishes, her quiet voice sounding more shy now than anything else.

Wait, what!? 

“A fan?” Megumi repeats in disbelief, and (y/n) smiles softly as she nods her head.

“You don’t get that a lot too?” She asks, inching towards speaking at a normal volume.

This is the part where he leaves, and he knows it.  The authorities were bound to be close now, and it’d give him more trouble if he was still around when they got here.  He couldn’t be wasting his time, especially on her.

But he lingers there for a second longer anyways.  There was an undeniably curiosity creeping under his skin.  Never would he have pegged (y/l/n) (y/n), regular goody-goody, as a Spiderman fan.  It had him wondering if there was more to her than met the eye.  

Maybe she was… a normal person…? Could it be true? 

Flashing lights interrupted his thoughts, his head swiveling to see approaching red and blue

“Fuck!” He cursed, and behind him (y/n) covered her mouth to stifle her giggle.  Jeez, did she expect some squeaky clean guy to be under the mask? “You’re fine, right?” He asks her, already stepping away to make his escape.

(y/n) nods her head, still giving him an awestruck look.  It makes his face feel hot under his mask.  Could she really be this enamored with Spiderman? So much so she’s rendered speechless.

“Right- well- maybe stop shopping in the middle of the night and you find yourself in these situations” He tries to be serious, but she grins as she nods back at him in agreement.

“I’ll try my best, Spiderman” 

With that he’s out the door and swinging off just before the cops round the corner to the building.  He’d just narrowly missed them, but that was the closest he’d come to getting spotted by them in quite a while.  Until then, he’d done a good job making a clean getaway.

He huffs and tugs his mask off of his head when he finds a fire escape distant enough to rest at.  Of all the crimes he’s interrupted, that was definitely one for the books.  And it had nothing to do with the tacky clown masks or shitty execution.

His chest felt tight, an odd feeling creeping into his bones.

Shit.  He still hadn’t had a proper dinner. ___

Megumi’s exhausted the next morning when he strolls into class.  He’s five minutes late today, but he tells himself that ten is his limit so he’s still doing just fine.  He never gets a second glance from the professor anyways- with his grades? His professor wouldn’t care if he didn’t show up to class at all.

(y/n), however, cares very much about Megumi’s punctuality.

“Who taught you to be so disrespectful of other people’s time, Fushiguro?” She mocks a pout at him, already turned around in her seat to bother him as usual.

Megumi gives her a bored look, maintaining eye contact as he opens his notebook to a fresh page.  (y/n) raises a brow impatiently, waiting for some kind of response, but Megumi remains silent.  This is fitting for him, he rarely engages in her banter these days, but his silence feels different today.  Something about the way he looks at her makes her feel like he’s sizing her up, or something.

“What?” The word comes out in a mumble, her brows furrowing as he meets his inquisitive stare with a confused glare.

Megumi purses his lips, shakes his head, taps the eraser of his pencil rhythmically against his notebook.

“Nothing” 

It’s all he has to say, and for once (y/n) doesn’t have a snarky remark.  She just gives him a weird look and faces forward in her seat again.  Maybe he’d caught her off guard by actually speaking to her, even if it was just one word, it’s more than he’s given in a while.  Pretty much since the spider bite.  Engaging in petty arguments seemed pointless after that.

As he takes notes on the lecture of the day, he can’t help but be drawn to the back of (y/n’s) head.  He didn’t like the idea of giving her any of his attention, but his thoughts were drifting out of his control, and he couldn’t stop replaying last night in his mind.  The way she looked at him, smiled at him, like he was her hero.  And now today he was reduced to the dirt under her perfectly clean shoe.  It was like he had a secret about her now.  There might not be a way for him to dangle it over her head openly… but he knew, and for now, that was enough.

By the time class ended, Megumi already had his bag packed up, and he was the first out the door.  If he got to the next lesson before her, he could claim a seat in the back where she wouldn’t dare be caught sitting.  Maybe then he wouldn’t get so distracted.

Even with his heightened senses however, he doesn’t notice the way (y/n) watches him book it out of the classroom, a knot between her brows at his odd behavior.  Because since when has Fushiguro Megumi rushed to class? ___

It’s hard not to notice Megumi is avoiding her more than usual.  She shared almost every class with him, besides one art course she took, (y/n) saw him every hour of the day.  It also helped that being the top two of their class they were always seated somewhere near the front, and closer to each other than either one of them would like.

It doesn’t bother her that Megumi’s been sitting in the back of the class with the other slackers.  She couldn’t care less if he decided not to come to class at all- in fact it would be wonderful for her.  If his grades slipped just a little bit she could take his spot as top student, a position that was rightfully hers seeing as she was punctual and present in every class.  Unlike Megumi, who hardly participated unless asked to, and acted like he couldn’t care less about his status.

She always wondered if he truly didn’t care about his ranking.  He certainly acted like he didn’t, rolling his eyes at her comments if he wasn’t ignoring her completely.  But was it just an act? 

(y/n) made it an effort not to think any more about Fushiguro Megumi than she had to.  But sometimes he made that difficult for her.  Like now, when he’s sitting in the back of the class with his blocky headphones on.  She can’t help but peek over her shoulder at him, eyeing the way he actively took notes from what was on the whiteboard at the front of the class.  But how well could he learn if he wasn’t even listening? 

He catches her staring not a second later, his bored blue eyes landing on hers and holding her stare.  His expression is unchanging, completely neutral as he stares back at her, but it still feels intense.  (y/n’s) quick to shoot her eyes forward and begin scribbling messy words in her otherwise neatly kept notebook.  Was it just intense because he’d caught her staring right at him? Her face feels warm, her heartbeat kicks into an anxious pattern.

Clearly, whatever his issue was, she needed to just ignore it completely.  He seemed to do just fine doing the same, maybe it was time for her to take a page out of his book and give him the same treatment.

Still, her eyes catch him in every hallway, every class, every moment he’s around, she spots and scans him as if there’s going to be some hint as to what brought on his change in behavior. ___

A couple of peaceful weeks were well appreciated, but Megumi must’ve taken them for granted, because tonight was a rough one.

He could enjoy a good fight, he’d grown up a fighter, so it all came naturally to him.  Right hook, dodge, web, kick, swing- there were just a few extra steps to his hand-to-hand that came from the spider bite’s abilities.  To him, that made the act of fighting all the more fun.  He wasn’t afraid to admit he got a certain rush out of beating someone up.  When it was justified, there wasn’t a feeling like it.

Getting beat up, however, sucked.

Maybe the guy was on steroids, maybe the adrenaline got to his head and his fight or flight kicked into high gear, Megumi wasn’t sure what his deal was, but he certainly took a beating before finally knocking the petty handbag thief out and getting him webbed up for the cops to take care of.

It wasn’t till he got away and found an alley secluded enough that he was able to check his injuries.  He didn’t have to take his mask off to know his head had taken most of the damage.  He could taste the blood of his split lip, and feel the hot throbbing behind his eye.  

Great.  Going to class with a black eye won’t draw any attention.

With a groan he leaned back into the brick of one of the surrounding buildings, trying to even out his labored breathing.  It wouldn’t be a surprise if he found his torso littered with black and blue, too.  As much as it hurt, Megumi was more irritated than anything.  Hiding injuries was the worst part of his secret double life.  College kids always wanted to hear the gnarly stories behind visible cuts and bruises.  Megumi only hoped his shitty reputation would be enough to keep people away.

He couldn’t sit around for long, there was still a city that needed patrolling, so Megumi kicked off the wall and took a few deep, harsh breaths as he left the alley, ready to go for a swing around the next few blocks to make sure everything was as it should be.  Quiet.  It was almost one in the morning, most people should be turned in for the night by now.

Just as he reaches the sidewalk and before he can fly off into the air, however, he’s met by a not-quite-stranger.

(y/n) almost runs right into him, speed walking down the sidewalk with her head down, clearly on a mission.  Had he stepped out a second later she might’ve crashed into him, but it’s hard for her to not notice the six foot tall man in a head to toe black suit.

For half a second she looks alarmed- rightfully so, a strange man just came out of an alley, if she had half a mind she’d turn and run without thinking.  But as expected, Megumi finds she has no sense of self preservation as she looks at the block in her path with a grin.

“You again” She greets him like she knows him now.  (She does know him, but she doesn’t know she knows him, you know?) And her smile is so genuinely bright that Megumi starts to feel sick.

“Again,” He sighs, the groan in his voice not going unnoticed.  “Didn’t I tell you not to walk around alone this late at night?” His voice still sounds weird, and it’s shortly after that (y/n) notices his hand hovering over his ribcage.

“Did you get hurt, or something?” She ignores him completely, all the while putting her phone in her pocket to give him her full attention.

“I’m Spiderman, I don’t get hurt” Megumi argues, but the wince in his voice is obvious, and (y/n) somehow sees right through it.

“Okay… well… even Spiderman has to go to urgent care sometimes, right?” She tries to be lighthearted, but her smile is wavering now, concern seeping into her features.

Megumi can barely stand to look at her.  What is she doing? Staring at him like that, like she knows him, like she cares about him.  Can’t she just go the fuck home where it’s safe and more importantly: away from him?

“Tch, I don’t think so” He mutters.

(y/n) frowns.

“Spoken like a true idiot man,” She scolds.  Jeez, last time they crossed paths like this she’d said she was a fan, now this? “What is it with you guys and your reputations, huh? You’re not any stronger for toughing out an injury without help, you know” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, mom” Megumi argues back.  She scoffs, but it turns into a small laugh shortly after.

“You could at least put ice on it, you know” She says, stepping past him and continuing on her way down the sidewalk.  Megumi tosses his head back to silently curse at the sky.

“Did I not make myself clear that you should go home?” He calls after her.

“Ice is this way” Is all (y/n) says, and all she has to say to get him to groan at nothing in particular and follow after her.

It’s a good thing it’s so late at night, there’s no one to see Spiderman walking around with some random girl.  Surely the papers would have a hay day if even a photo was snapped… he doesn’t even want to think about what kind of headlines they’d come up with.

“I can buy my own ice” He tells her after a minute of walking in silence.

“I know,” (y/n) shrugs.  “But so far it seems like you’re letting me hang out with you, so I’ve gotta enjoy it just a little bit longer” 

“We’re not hanging out,” Megumi replies dryly.  “You’re refusing to go home when it’s the middle of the night and I’m…” He trails off, not wanting to say what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t have to.

“Awe, Spidey’s lookin’ out for me?” She’s smiling at him again, holding her hands behind her back as she looks up at him.  “You starting to like me?” 

“You’re starting to bother me,” Megumi quips back, but it’s followed by a chuckle he can’t help, and it only seems to endear (y/n) further.  “I don’t usually give people follow up warnings,” He mutters with a shake of his head.  “What’re you doing out this late, anyways?” He asks before he can help it.  “Don’t you have, like, school, or something?” It’s difficult to act like he doesn’t know she spends her nights studying herself to death.

“Maybe I’m going to a party” (y/n) shrugs.

“Tch, no you’re not” 

“How do you know?” 

“Not dressed like that” Megumi comments, making a point to look her up and down.

(y/n) huffs, but there’s no denying the evidence right in front of them both.  She’s wearing leggings that were at least a couple years old, and a large sweatshirt that was teetering the line of well loved and ratty.  

“Okay, well, maybe this time I’m not” She says, and Megumi bites back a smile.  He’s pretty sure that a girl like (y/l/n) (y/n) has never stepped foot in a house party.  And he knows because he hasn’t, either.

“Still not an answer” He reminds her.

“I was going to pick up some energy drinks,” (y/n) finally admits.  “It’s a short walk from my apartment to the corner store, I do it all the time.  Even without Spiderman watching over me” 

He chuckles at that, wondering just how many times she’s made the walk, no matter how short, in the middle of the night.  Couldn’t she just get them before she goes home for the day?

“And you just have to go in the middle of the night?” He scolds her, but she doesn’t seem too affected by it.

“That’s when I need them the most” She replies with a shrug.

“You always drink energy drinks that late?” 

“What, you worried about me or something?” She fires back, a curious look on her face.  “Y’know, I haven’t heard much about you talking to people” 

“I don’t” 

“You’re talking to me” She points out matter of factly, a tone of hers that Megumi was already far too familiar with.

“You’re kind of leaving me no choice” 

(y/n’s) quiet for a moment, and it seems like she’s contemplating something, but whatever it is she doesn’t let him in on, instead smiling and turning her attention to the sidewalk as they walk.

Megumi ducks into the alley next to the convenience store when (y/n) goes in.  He’s unceremonious as he drops himself to the ground, sighing in relief to be off of his feet.  His hand presses into his ribcage at a weak attempt to relieve the pain as he twists to try and find a comfortable position to sit in.  He doesn’t want (y/n) to come back and see him in any sort of pain- it wasn’t a good look for Spiderman to show any sign of weakness.

She’s quick to return, a plastic bag in one hand and a frozen bag of vegetables in the other.  Even behind the mask she must understand that he’s pulling a face at her, because she huffs in annoyance.

“They didn’t have ice” She explains, inviting herself to squat down next to him and offer up the vegetables.

“No no, you’re not sitting here,” Megumi bites back a whine when he sits upright in an attempt to urge her to leave.  “You need to go back home” 

“And miss a personal Q&A with Spiderman?” She replies, a small smile on her face when he finally snatches the vegetables out of her hand.  He grumbles a string of incoherent curses as he rests it over where the bruising feels the worst.

“That’s not happening” He mutters.

“This is why I never hear about you talking to people,” (y/n) sighs.  “You’re boring” 

“I’m not boring,” He argues.  “I just don’t have anything to say” 

“Well, you could start by thanking me for the veggies” (y/n) replies, tilting her head at him.

Megumi glares at her from behind his mask.  He didn’t need to reminder of her insufferable personality.  But… watching her smile so softly at him, like she would love nothing more than a thank you from Spiderman… maybe it’s just because he’s injured, but Megumi caves.

“Thank you” It comes out from behind his teeth, and she must know it, but Megumi swears he sees stars in her eyes.

“You’re welcome, Spiderman,” She murmurs back.

It comes out so genuine, so sweet, that there’s a pang in Megumi’s heart.  He doesn’t think any of the bruising spread so far up his chest, but it must’ve for him to feel such an odd sensation.

“I have to ask… cause I probably won’t see you again…” Her eyes land on the way his hand tenses and presses the frozen vegetables further against himself.  “Why do you do it?” 

When he doesn’t answer, she blinks at him, moving her head just enough to tell him that she really wanted him to say something.

Megumi figures she won’t leave him alone if he doesn’t say anything, so he goes with the truth.

“It’s the right thing to do” 

He shrugs lamely, and it takes a second for her to react at all.  At first it’s a furrow of her brows and a knowing smile, as if he just had to have an answer better than that.  But she didn’t know him as well as she liked to think, because she didn’t know Megumi.  

When he has nothing else to say, her expression slowly softens, and she hums thoughtfully.

“That’s it, huh?” She muses.  “You’re just… a good guy?” 

Just a guy, Megumi mentally corrects.  He might have heightened abilities, and a better sense of right and wrong than those around him, but he’s never considered himself a hero.  Just a guy trying to make things right, trying to keep people safe.

“Guess I try to be” His answer is as lame as his movements.  

If he were a superhero, he’d need some help with PR, but somehow, this makes him all the more special to (y/n).  She brightens, leans in closer and sets her hand over his, where he’s still holding the cold vegetables.

“Can I tell you something, Spiderman?” 

Hasn’t she been talking to him this whole time? If it wouldn’t hurt, Megumi would laugh.  Instead he just nods his head and waits for her to continue.

“I want to be a journalist because of you,” 

What? Megumi’s face warps into shock at the confession.  He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that.  She was on track to be a graduate of the sciences, whichever one she ended up choosing anyways.  He always saw her becoming some wealthy astro-physist or some shit.  She wanted to give up all of her work in those programs to… write? 

“An investigative journalist,” She corrects.  “I want to write about the things that matter, and- and I want to be honest, you know? I want people to read my articles and know they’re being handed the truth.  There’s not a lot of that around these days…” She trails off.  

She didn’t have to tell him about the light Spiderman was painted in.  Let’s just say him and Megumi would share the popularity rankings… except no one was raising pitchforks and torches in Megumi’s direction.

“You want to do that ‘cause of me?” Megumi asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

(y/n) nods, trying to bite back her smile but it was still as clear as day.

“I’ll write my first article about you,” She promises, and Megumi’s eyes widen at her sincerity.  “If you’ll let me” 

“Well you’re not getting an interview” He says, only half joking.  (y/n) laughs quietly.

For a moment, he gets that glimpse into her again.  The same one he felt the night of the convenience store robbery.  There was something in her eye he’d never seen before.  Something soft, and real.  It dawns on him that he very well may be the only person she’s told about this dream of hers.  He wants to ask, but it feels wrong, like he’s prying for something.

“I won’t need one,” She tells him.  “Can’t have the people knowing I know you” 

“You don’t know me” Megumi replies, maybe too quickly, but he can’t help it.  

He tilts his head at her as she gazes at him with too much fondness.  Was his reminder that he’s a stranger to her not enough? Sure, she could trust him because he was Spiderman, her safety wasn’t compromised, but that didn’t mean she needed to go confiding in him like this.

Besides, the look she was giving him was making him feel hot, like he was about to break into a sweat.

“I don’t know…” She murmurs thoughtfully.  “I just have this feeling… like I do” 

That has him leaping into panic mode.  That was it, this was done.  If he saw her again while he was in this suit, he was going to turn and swing the other direction.  She couldn’t be saying things like that, she couldn’t be trying to put the pieces together in her mind.  If she were to figure him out, he’d be done for.  She put a lot of trust in him tonight, but could he trust her for even a minute? Megumi wasn’t sure, and he didn’t care to find out.

As far as he was concerned, this was the last time he was going to talk to her.  He was right to avoid her after the first time- it should have been the last time, but it was too late for that now.

“You should go” He says, pushing himself to stand even through grunts of pain.  She looks at him with worry, brows knitted and lips in a frown as she follows him up to her feet.

“Wait,” 

She calls to stop him, despite having nothing else to say to him.  Well, there were a million things she wanted to say to him, but none of that felt appropriate now.  She didn’t really expect him to stand there and hear her out, but he is, and now her mouth is running dry and she’s standing before him frozen.  He radiates impatience, without having to say a single word.

“I… I didn’t thank you,” She stammers out.  It’s unlike her, but it can’t be helped.  She’s always had a little fan-crush on Spiderman since he made his appearance on the news, but after actually being around him that seemed to blossom into a very real crush, even if she’s never seen his face.  She can feel a blush heating up her face when she speaks.  “For the other night, with- with the robbery,” She clarifies, even though she didn’t have to.  “So… thank you” 

Megumi hesitates a moment longer, almost expecting her to say something else.  She looks like she wants to, her face is growing pink and her hands have begun fiddling with the bag of her energy drinks.  But she remains quiet.

He gives her a nod, before handing over the bag of vegetables.  (y/n) laughs under her breath as she takes it.  It’s lost all of it’s cold, merely a room temperature bag of carrots and peas by now.  She’s not sure what she’s supposed to do with it, but she supposes it wouldn’t look good for Spiderman to swing around with it.

“You’re welcome,” He tells her, and it sounds like the most earnest thing he’s had to say to her.  He’s always come across as blunt, something (y/n) was surprised by when they first met, but now it’s a blessing.  She knows that he means it.  “Get home.  Don’t make me have to tell you again, alright?” 

To Megumi, this is a goodbye.  He doesn’t intend to see her again, not like this.  It was… interesting, while it lasted, but it could never actually last.  It needed to be over before things could get any worse… or she could get any closer to figuring out his identity.

“I’ll try my best, Spiderman” 

It’s the same thing she’d left him with before.  She wonders if he catches it.  With that, Megumi shoots a web and swings off into the night, his black suit blending easily into the night sky.

He did. ___

(y/n) was always punctual, to everything, not just class.  But today she found herself in her favorite seat a whole ten minutes early.  She hadn’t meant to show up before the professor, but she just couldn’t contain her energy today.  She’d woken up before her alarm, got showered, dressed and dolled up in record time, ate a small breakfast on her walk to school, and now here she was.  Full of energy as if it wasn’t eight in the morning.  Call it waking up on the right side of the bed…

… or having an interesting night that she couldn’t get out of her head.

Never in her wildest dreams did she think that she’d run into Spiderman again.  The first time was a little embarrassing, she’d come close to being called a victim, but the second time just happened by chance.  It had her heart racing, her face warming, her lips smiling- hell, she was giddy.

He wasn’t anything like she’d thought he’d be, but that just made him all the more enticing to her.  He was blunt, maybe even a little crass for a masked hero, but every interaction she’d had with him drew her in more.  

She’d meant what she said about getting into journalism, she’d even been looking into transferring her credits next year, even if it meant starting over in a completely new program.  Last night, she’d spent her time in bed staring at the ceiling and replaying events in her mind.  When she wasn’t doing that, she was mentally writing her first article about The Spiderman.

The Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman had a nice ring to it, she thought.  Although she had a feeling that he would laugh at the title of Friendly.  Or maybe roll his eyes.  It was hard to tell with the mask.

Before she knew it, she found herself doodling said mask at the corner of a fresh page in her notebook.  She lifted her pen instantly, surprised at just how zoned out she’d become.  There were never doodles in her notebooks.  They were perfectly kept, clean, organized, conside, and without any extra graffiti.

She supposes this doodle can stay, though… she had done a rather good job at drawing it, it would be a pity if it went to waste…

Students begin to file into the class and setting up their laptops and notebooks at the desks surrounding her.  Without any friends in this class there’s no one for her to talk to, or share the story of her night with.

Then again, she’s not sure she wants to tell anyone about her run in with Spiderman.  She hadn’t mentioned it before… although that was because she didn’t need anyone fussing over her being out so late and putting her safety in jeopardy.  This time was different, but still… 

It felt more special if she kept it to herself.

Today, Megumi comes to class twelve minutes late.  She eyes the clock above the doorway just as he ducks in to check the time, but her eyes just as quickly dart back to his figure.  It’s hard not to, with the dark purple shiner standing out against the pale skin of his face.

Her eyes flit around the room, just to see if anyone else noticed the state of their late arrival, but every other student seemed too wrapped up in the lesson, and their professor was too deep in his lecture to give Megumi the slightest of attention.  To everyone else, Megumi was late as usual.  As (y/n) looked at him again, she had an inkling he was the only one who noticed his black eye.

He knew he was going to draw attention, clearly, seeing as his hoodie was up over his unruly hair and his head was down.  But he must’ve sensed (y/n’s) eyes on him, because when he looked up it was directly at her.

He was moving to the back of the class again, probably to take that corner desk with the graphite engravings all over it.  It would be alarming if she were to say anything to him, although she’s not even sure what she would say.  Asking him if he was alright felt weird, and it’s not like she could just shout ‘what the fuck!?’ in the middle of class.

All she could do was stare at him as he took his seat, pull out his notebook, and begin notetaking as usual, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.  She’s completely turned around in her seat now, still watching him, even though she was missing valuable points of the lesson now.  It was hard to pull her attention away- it was weird that no one else seemed to notice him at all.

Where could he have possibly gotten that from? She frowned, despite Megumi ignoring her completely.  She was sure that she would’ve heard about him getting into another fight on campus- last time she was getting texts about it while she was reading all the tweets about it.  Fights were hot news around here, and if Megumi was involved in a second one, she surely couldn’t have missed it.

Right? 

Finally, his eyes catch hers.  She doesn’t turn away from him like she had in the past, she holds his stare, trying to communicate with him in silence.

It’s obvious to him, she’s looking at him with that same worried face she’d worn last night.  She just didn’t know she was worried about the same person.  He raises his eyebrows at her expectantly, as though asking ‘what?’.  As though nothing were out of the ordinary at all.

Her lips curl into a frown, almost a pout, and Megumi has half a mind to flip her off to get her to leave him alone.  Even in silence, even from opposite sides of the room, she seems to find some way to get under his skin.

He doesn’t, though.  Just holds her stare for a minute longer before putting all of his attention into his notetaking.

Megumi told himself that he was done with her, and he was going to be true to his word.  Whether he was in the suit or not, he couldn’t have anything to do with (y/l/n) (y/n).  Being around her just made things feel… complicated.  He couldn’t pinpoint why, but he didn’t want to.  He just wanted the feeling to go away.

She sits turned around in her seat even once he’s clearly begun to ignore her again.  He can feel her eyes on him, see her watching him out of his peripheral vision as if she was going to figure him out through her stare alone.

He was only pretty sure that she couldn’t.

Eventually she turns around in her seat, but the bouncing of her leg is driving him insane even from across the class.  It was like all he could hear- the faint tap of her shoe tapping the linoleum floor.  It was louder than the lecture, than the squeak of the marker on the whiteboard, or the students smacking their gum or tapping their desks.  His ears focused on it for the remainder of class, effectively ruining his note taking ability.

He’s out of his seat once class is over, snatching his things and not bothering to put them in his bag as he bolts for the door.  There’s an itch in his mind telling him to distance himself from (y/n) as fast as he can.  The inkling was right, because he doesn’t make it far in the hall before his name is being called.

“Fushiguro!” 

A few surrounding students glance in her direction, some even snicker in passing.  Megumi wasn’t someone anyone chased after, and certainly never a girl.  If this were still high school, his sister would ooh and ahh at him before skipping away, plotting to tease him for it later.  But this wasn’t high school, and when he turned around to face (y/n), anyone who was watching made themselves scarce fast.

He doesn’t say anything as she approaches him, the strap of her messenger bag held tight in both hands against her chest.  

She opens her mouth, ready to make a smartass comment, but it comes out awkward, not quite right.

“Late to class again cause of a fight, or something?” Even her scoff comes out wrong, sounding like a nervous laugh, strangled and weird.  She shifts her weight between her feet.

Megumi’s silent for a long few seconds.  Every one that passes feels like eternity, and (y/n) deflates a little more under his stare.

“Sure” He shakes his head, not caring what she wanted to assume about him.  If she wanted to think he was that kind of guy, all the better.  Spiderman didn’t get into fights before going to class, so the further he could separate himself from him in her mind, the better.

She frowns at his answer, and it looks like she’s actually upset when she stares directly at his dark eye.  It looks pretty bad, he knows that.  The swelling he could take care of, but the dark purple was another thing.  Right now though, he’s more concerned about the way she seems to worry.

“Seriously, Fuhiguro,” She says quietly, hoping to get through to him.  

She’s not sure what it is that came over her, but something about seeing him walk into class looking like this made her heart lurch in her chest.

“What happened? Who did that?” 

“I fell,” He says dryly, earning a short glare from her.  He sighs, shutting his eyes to mask his annoyance before it got the best of him.  “Sorry I don’t have an interesting story for you- can I go to class now?” 

“Suddenly Mr Punctual?” She snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest.  Megumi huffs, shakes his head, uncaring toward her attitude.

“Whatever” He starts to turn away, but she catches him off guard when she rushes to block his path again.  

Megumi actually startles when she budges in front of him, having to step back to remove her from his personal space.  His wide eyes land on hers, annoyance furrowing his brows as he stares down at her.  She’s defiantly raising her chin towards him, eyes narrowed and everything.

“I’m actually asking, you know,” She tells him.  “Because no one else is walking around with black eyes-” 

“Who cares?” Megumi tries to step out of her way, but she slides in front of him again.  The traffic in the hallway is thinning, they would both be late for their next class if she kept this up.  “Don’t you have a class to be early for?” He hopes that’s enough to get her to back off.

“I don’t care,” She says with enough assurance that Megumi’s actually surprised.  He figured being late to class would throw her into a full breakdown.  “Why are you being such a dick about this?” 

He scoffs, a bitter smile tugging on his lips, only making him wince as it tears the healing wound.

“Why are you?” He fires back.

“Because,” She says it with such certainty, only to fall short with the rest of her reason.  She didn’t know exactly why she felt like someone needed to check in on him, but she knew that she did, and maybe she was the only one who noticed anything was wrong in the first place.  “Because… because it’s the right thing to do” 

Megumi freezes up at that.  All of his muscles go rigid, his jaw tightens, and his eyes flicker over her features rapidly, trying to find any crack in her sincerity.  Was she seriously throwing his words back at him right now? Just because of a black eye? 

Meanwhile (y/n) feels good about her answer.  She’d picked it up from a man she admired so much and it felt right.  There was no real reason, just a feeling.  She had no idea what emotional turmoil she was putting him through right now.

“(y/n), seriously…” Megumi shakes his head at her.  He steps to the side again, but doesn’t leave right away.  Her eyes follow his, waiting for him to continue.  He hates that she looks so genuinely worried about him.  Hates the way it makes his heart race and his fingers tremble.  He has to force words out of his throat.  “Leave me alone” 

Her face falls, but he’s quick to leave once he says it, and this time, she doesn’t chase after him again. ___

In the rest of their classes, she doesn’t try to talk to him again, and does her best not to look his way.  Megumi’s relieved… he thinks.  It’s for the best that everything returns to normal.  Whatever compelled her to reach out to him today was clearly Spiderman’s doing, and he couldn’t have that.  Things couldn’t change.  His feelings of distaste towards her couldn’t change.  He couldn’t start feeling… differently.

With his hood on and his headphones blasting music enough to drown out the noise of the cafe, Megumi tries to catch up on what he’d missed during his first lecture, which was the entirety of his first lecture.  Luckily his professor tended to drone on word for word from the textbook, and he could catch up by reading.

Unluckily, it doesn’t take much for him to get sidetracked from his studies.  He wants to kick himself when something compels him to look up, only to find (y/n) at Fratboy’s table again.

This again, he tells himself, certain he’ll go right back to his textbook.  But he doesn’t move.  His focus stays entirely on the table of jocks, without a shred of discretion, to make things worse.

“Not today” (y/n’s) saying when he tunes into the conversation.  Does this guy always ask her to sit at his table for lunch? Is he that oblivious? Megumi chews on the inside of his cheek.  You’d think he’d try to avoid the idiot jock stereotype a little better.

“C’mon princess, it’s never ‘today’.  Why don’t you just say yes to ‘tomorrow’, hm?” Fratboy leans out of his seat, reaching his hand out towards her.  (y/n) takes a step backwards, but he’s faster, snatching her by the wrist and pulling her towards the table again.

Megumi bristles, watching the situation with the eyes of a hawk.  If looks could kill, this would’ve been enough to get Fratboy’s hand off of her.  Even if he wasn’t hurting you, it was unwanted, that much was clear just by watching her body language.

“I really don’t feel that way about you,” (y/n) snaps, tugging her arm to get herself out of his grasp.  He doesn’t release right away, and Megumi almost gets to his feet, but with a second tug he lets go of her, and (y/n) takes a large step back, keeping both arms close to her body in case he tries to reach for her again.  “Leave me alone” She barks at him, turning to walk away.

If Fratboy says something else to her, Megumi misses it.  His focus is dialed up to one hundred, and as soon as (y/n) separated herself from him, Megumi hadn’t paid a second glance to Fratboy at all.  He wonders how long she’d felt his watchful eyes before she actually turned towards him.  Her eyes skirt around the cafe for a second, trying to find where the prickling feeling of being watched was coming from, and it doesn’t take long for her to find him.  Her bitter expression softens when she spots him, an odd feeling replacing the discomfort of being talked down to and manhandled.

Maybe because as soon as Fratboy follows her line of sight and sees Megumi’s hard stare set in his direction, he turns towards his table again and quickly engages himself with his friends, not bothering (y/n) with even a second glance.  She watches this unfold, before looking back at Megumi again, curiously.  Despite her being left alone now, he’s still staring at her, maybe waiting to see that she’ll get to her table without being bothered again, she’s not sure.

Either way, she grows still under his direct gaze.  She didn’t know how to describe it, but she’s sure she’s never had anyone look at her like that.  With an otherwise neutral expression, there was so much anger behind Megumi’s eyes that if she didn’t know better, she might be just as afraid as Fratboy.  However something told her not to be, something told her that the anger wasn’t directed towards her.  It takes a great deal of effort for her to turn her back on him and head towards her table, but even as she walks away she can’t help but glance back at him again.  He’s already returned to his book by then, but her intrigue doesn’t end there.  She spends the rest of her lunch in near silence while surrounded by her friends, her thoughts too busy for her to keep up with meaningless chit chat and gossip.

That night (y/n) wanders the sidewalk between her apartment and the convenience store up and down until her feet are too tired to carry her anymore.  She walks the familiar path, back and forth, over and over, between the hours of ten and two, her eyes fixed on the sky, peeking down alleyways, her fingers crossed, her heart racing.  Nothing comes of her walk.  She returns home with a sense of disappointment, and a will to try it again. ___

Megumi’s growing tired of this game of hers.  He’s not sure why she insists on doing this every night, it had been four nights now and she had nothing to show for it, so why was she still out there pacing the sidewalk like a maniac? 

It took all of his energy to patrol the streets and keep an eye on one particular sidewalk- one particular girl.  He was one guy.  Did she really think this was safe for either of them? He very well could be missing a crime happening two blocks over because he’s too busy checking in on where she’s chosen to wander.  Did she really think this was enough to capture his attention? 

Well, it had caught his attention, seeing as every other five minutes he was swinging back in this direction to make sure she was still alive down there.

Was she trying to learn a lesson the hard way? Megumi spent his time watching her with bitterness.  She was smarter than this, he knew it, so what the hell was she thinking?

Deep down he’d already confirmed his worries, but he’d hoped that she’d give this stunt up eventually.  He still saw her around school, even if she’d stopped bothering him, he could see the toll that staying up like this was taking on her.  She always had an energy drink or a coffee on her desk, and Megumi doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so disheveled.  It had him wondering if this was starting to impact her grades, too.

This is why he shouldn’t have spoken with her the last time.  He should’ve swung off in the opposite direction.  Because now she was on his mind, she had him worrying, swinging all around the block she was pacing while trying to keep an eye on the rest of the city- it was exhausting for him, too.

He shouldn’t be sitting here worrying about her sleep, or her grades.  His bottom line should be safety.  And she was safe.  So why couldn’t he just leave her be? 

With a groan he stops his swinging to land on one of the surrounding buildings.  He rips his mask off his head, groaning through his irritation before raking his hands through his already messy hair.  She was driving him crazy, and he was sure that she knew it too.  This little back and forth walk of hers, she was taunting him with it.  

Throwing himself down to sit on the edge of the building, Megumi peers over his knees to check on her yet again.  She’s slowed her pace, which hopefully means she’s getting tired and will return to her apartment soon.

With a huff, he props his head in his hand, wondering what he was going to do about this.  It wasn’t as easy to make her hate Spiderman as it was to make her hate Megumi.  Hell, it might not be a bad idea to just reveal his identity to her, she’d probably want to forget about Spiderman all together, then.

Of course, that was a stupid idea, but Megumi was fresh out of good ones.

When he lifts his head again, compelled by some invisible force to check just one more time that she was alright, he’d looked just in time.  He barely had the time to pull his mask back on his head before he was leaping off the building and swinging down towards her, half flying and half falling through the air as fast as he could to get to her before whatever figure lurking around the corner could.

Shit, shit, shit.

It happens so fast, she’s lucky she didn’t pee herself from the whole thing.  She’d just reached the end of her pace, about to turn around and wander the other direction when she finally saw a very unsettling figure come around the corner.  With disheveled clothing and a stagger that sent up warning flags of intoxication, (y/n) instantly stopped in her tracks, and started to shuffle backwards.

He never said a word to her, but from looks alone she got the feeling of what he was thinking.  Nothing good.

However before she could get herself to start running, someone else came into view.

There’s barely a second for her to show her relief when Spiderman shows up, seemingly out of nowhere.  She’s not sure his feet even touched the ground before he had an arm around her and was swinging off again.  He doesn’t have to tell her to hold on, she just clings, with all her might, she winds her arms around his neck and keeps her knees locked on either side of his hips.  

The sensation of swinging through the air is not the one she always dreamed of enjoying- the wind is harsh, whipping her hair around all directions and snapping against her face unpleasantly.  Even with her face buried against her savior’s chest, the cold air nips at her.

Even once he’s clearly landed, it takes some prompting for her to let go of him, and open her eyes.

When she does, she barely gets to open her mouth before he’s laying into her, and she should’ve seen it coming, but she can’t help but deflate.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” 

He’s yelling, and at first she wonders if he’s worried about people seeing, but a quick glance at her surroundings and she realizes they’re on the roof of a building.  No one would be hearing them here.

“Were you seriously trying to get yourself into trouble? Because you were about this close to it,” He raises his pinched fingers for emphasis, but gives her no time to answer.  “You better not have done something so stupid just cause of me-” 

“I didn’t- well- well I didn’t necessarily” (y/n) tries to explain, but the words just aren’t coming as fast as her mouth is moving and she’s left gaping at him.  

Megumi was not putting up with it.  What did he have to do to get it through her head? 

“I can’t be spending my nights keeping an eye on just you because you feel like putting yourself in harm’s way for a fucking rush,” He snaps.  “You pull shit like that again (y/n) and I’m not going to be there next time, you understand?” 

Her mouth shuts.  She nods her head.

“Jesus Christ,” Megumi puts his hands to his head, turning and walking off as if they weren’t stranded on top of a building.

Well, (y/n) was stranded.  Spiderman had the means of getting himself anywhere.

She wants to follow him, but instinct tells her to stay put while he paces and continues to scold her.

“You’re goddamn lucky I was there, you know that?” He’s not even looking at her, but she nods her head again anyways.  She knows.  “I should really go back there and beat the shit out of that guy” He starts to mutter to himself, going on incoherently, and (y/n’s) blood starts to run cold.

“He- I mean, he didn’t do anything” She mumbles, her voice hardly above a whisper, but he seems to hear her just fine, stopping in his tracks and turning his head towards her.

“Are you serious?” 

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before any words come out.

“It’s not like he… he said anything, or did anything to me” She clarifies.  Spiderman’s mask is incapable of expression, but she had a feeling the man behind it was glaring at her.  She could feel that familiar prickle of a harsh stare.

It’s silent for a long moment before he finally turns completely towards her and walks back in her direction.  She keeps her feet firmly planted, willing herself not to back away or cower, but having him come stand so close to her had her throat closing up.  He towered over her so much she had to lean her head back to look up at his mask.  If he was going to yell, she was bound to flinch.

“You have no idea what he was capable of doing,” He doesn’t yell.  In fact his voice is so eerily low she almost shivers.  “If you want to gamble your life on some drunken lowlife’s imagination, that’s your business,” He adds, and she blinks away the tears welling up in her eyes as the gravity of the situation really sunk in with his words.  “But at least have the decency to do it far away from me.  Because if it were up to me I’d go back there and kill that guy right now” 

She blinks a few more times, but still, a tear slips down her cheek.

“I-I’m sorry,” She whispers shakily, the lump in her throat growing hotter when she tries to speak.  “I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to- I-” 

Megumi sighs as more tears begin to fall from her eyes.  Her brain was playing catchup and it was clear she was too tired to handle any of this right now.

“It’s alright,” He says, but it’s obviously not enough to calm her down, so against his better judgment, he tries his hand at comforting her.  “Hey, c’mon, you’re alright,” Reaching out to her, he hesitates before placing his hands on either side of he face, wiping her tears away on the soft material of gloves.  “Breathe,” He instructs quietly, and waits as her shudders slowly morph into slow, heavy breaths.  “There you go, that’s it.  You’re alright,” He tries to remind her that where she is now, she’s safe.  “You’re here” 

It takes a few more deep breaths, but eventually he steers her clear of a full blown panic attack, and her heartbeat returns to a normal pace.

With one last deep breath, (y/n) closes her eyes on her exhale, and Megumi finally drops his hands from her head, sure that she isn't going to start back up again.

“I have trouble sleeping,” She tells him quietly, her eyes focused on the ground.  “It started in high school, I uh… I’m kind of a nerd, I guess,” She admits.  “My parents really cared about my grades and success and I guess I just… went with it.  Started staying up through the night to study and get ahead the rest of my class and… never dropped the habit” 

Megumi softens, although she’d never know it.

“That doesn’t sound so healthy,” He says quietly, not knowing what else to say.  She scoffs, smiles bitterly, shakes her head back at him.  “We should get you back home, yeah?” 

Realizing what he meant, she looks back at him with a wince, and he can’t help the small chuckle at her reaction.

“It’ll be alright.  I’ll take it easy, promise” He says, crossing his finger over his chest for emphasis.

“What, like I’m gonna find some way to sue Spiderman?” She mutters back.

He holds his arms out to her, carefully grabbing her by the forearms to loop them around his neck.

“Just hold on and keep your head down, it’ll be over before you know it” 

Her face heats up when his arm comes around her back and he presses her even closer.  She can’t stop her squeak of surprise before it comes out, and it must startle him, because he’s quick to ask her if she’s okay.

“Yeah I- I’m fine” She stammers back, feeling her blush grow hotter.

Megumi takes off without a warning, thinking it’ll be easier to rip it off like a bandaid than to count down before a jump.  All of her limbs tighten around him, forgetting about modesty as soon as they’re in the air.  She presses her face as far into his shoulder as she can to keep herself blinded from the surrounding area.  Until now, she wouldn’t have said she was afraid of heights.

She’s at least able to give him her address, a shaky whisper in his ear before she’s buried into his shoulder again.

When he lands on her fire escape, he helps her to her feet, trying not to chuckle at how wobbly she is.

“Don’t get sick on the suit, you have no idea how much of a pain it is to dry clean this thing” He tries to lighten the mood, and is surprised that he’s successful in doing so, earning a small laugh from her.

“You say that to all the girls you swing home, Spidey?” 

“Not a fan of the nickname.  Or the insinuation” He’s back to his usual dry self in no time.

“Well you have to have a nickname, we’re friends now, aren’t we?” 

He’s supposed to leave now.  He should leave now.  This was exactly what he was afraid of happening, her getting attached.  That burden was only on her of course, there wasn’t a chance Megumi was going to get drawn in when it comes to her, not when he knew the consequences.

“Spideman already is a nickname” He mutters like it’s obvious.  

(y/n) let’s out a breathless laugh, and tosses her messy windswept hair behind her shoulders.  

Megumi hasn’t left yet, why isn’t he leaving? 

“Well, then there must be some other name I could call you..?” She trails off with her question, stepping forward and eyeing him curiously.  

Megumi’s frozen.  Was she really suggesting he reveal himself to her? Obviously he couldn’t do that…

“I’d just like to thank you, again,” She says, a small smile on her lips as she takes another step forward.  

If he’s not leaving, Megumi knows he most definitely needed to step away from her before she could press any closer.  Carrying her to swing her home was one thing, that was closeness out of necessity, but this- this was too much, and he was freezing up.

“And, um, properly,” She adds in a soft murmur, her eyes flickering over his mask.  

He briefly wonders what she’s looking for, but it’s quickly answered when she reaches up towards him, her fingers brushing the space between his mask and the rest of the suit.  It’s fitted so well it’s nearly impossible for someone to find the disconnect between the two- unless of course you’re standing directly in front of him, which she was.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, but the gulp he swallows is visible to her with how close she is.  The tips of her fingers barely slip under the material of his mask, they graze his skin in a touch featherlight yet searing hot.

Without any indication from him that she should stop, curiosity gets the best of her and she carefully begins to slide the mask upwards, her eyes excitedly watching the expanse of his now exposed neck.  Almost as pale as the moonlight, she drank up the sight of his skin as if it was a completely new sight to her.

When she gets to his chin, his hand snatches her wrist.  It’s a quick action, but surprisingly gentle.  He barely grips her arm, his touch merely a warning.

“You shouldn’t” He says, the lump in his bobbing throat preventing him from saying anything more.

She looks up into the expanse of white that made for the compelling eyes of the mask.  Wondering if she was making proper eye contact with him, she shakes her head reassuringly.

“I won’t go too much further,” She murmurs.  Followed by an even softer, “Promise” 

His better judgment clean out the window, Megumi lets go of her hand, and allows her to proceed.

Using both hands now, she bunched up the end of the material until she was able to gather it at his nose where it would stay put, leaving everything from his neck to the tip of his nose on display for her.

She smiles at him, almost knowingly, and it makes him nervous.  Everything about this makes him nervous, this cold sweat she was putting him through was torture.  Even more so when her fingers begin to softly trace over the exposed parts of his skin.

“I knew you were handsome” She whispers shyly, but her eyes glimmer with excitement.

Megumi chuckles, the corners of his lips barely quirking into a smile, prompting her to hover the pad of her thumb over them as well.  She doesn’t quite touch his lips, too cautious of the healing cut over the bottom one.

“How could you know such a thing?” He mumbles, keeping his voice low out of worry that she’d recognize it without the muffle of his mask.

“I don’t know,” She giggles softly.  “Your voice, maybe.  And you’re tall” 

“I don’t think you have very good standards” Megumi murmurs.

“I think it’s completely fair for a girl to have a little crush on the man who saved her,” She replies, face warming up from such a confession.  To her delight, it gets another smile out of him.  “Who knew you smiled so much under there?” She says before she could think twice about it.  “I was starting to think you were that stoic, mysterious type” 

“I could be” He mumbles, and he finds himself taking her hand before she could finally touch her fingers to his lips.  

She’s more than enticed to, with how pink and alluring they were, she’d been dying to kiss them since she’d lifted his mask, and hoped he’d give her the chance, seeing as he hadn’t tried to cover the bottom half of his face just yet.

She’s never looked at him like this before.  And to be fair, Megumi had never looked at her like this either.  He’d had no idea how pretty she was, like this, with her eyes half lidded and half focused, staring intently at his lips, giving away all of her thoughts without having to voice them.  Her long lashes seemed to grow heavier with every slow blink.  She’s hardly looking up at him now, all of her attention on just one thing, and Megumi was starting to run out of reasons why he shouldn’t indulge her.

The hand that he’s not keeping away from him reaches out again, fingers skimming his jaw before curling around it with the softest touch.  She doesn’t pull him with much force, but Megumi finds himself following her movements as she guides him down, closer to her height.

It wasn’t right to kiss her.  It was actually the exact opposite of what he’d been trying to do here.  How the hell did he wind up in this situation? 

“Thank you, Spiderman” She whispers, her lips ghosting over his with every syllable.

Ah, fuck it.

His hand releases hers only to reach for the back of her head and pull her in the rest of the way, his lips capturing hers passionately.  Not expecting him to make the first move, she’s delayed in reacting, her hands sliding around the back of his neck and kissing him back with just as much fervor.

So lost in the kiss and how softly his lips move over hers, she almost forgets about the minor detail that his identity is still a secret to her, but even if it crosses her mind, she doesn’t care.

Her fingers press into the small strip of skin exposed at the nape of his neck, and while she longs to dig them under the back of his mask and lift it off of his head, it's not out of a desire to expose his identity.  It’s purely because she’d love to run her hands through his hair, followed by a curiosity of what that would feel like.

Was his hair long? Soft? Coarse? Was it shaggy? Was it shaved? The mystery of it all had her mind buzzing and her feet pushing her to the tips of her toes to meet his lips in one last kiss before he could pull away.

The final kiss is softer than the rest, so gentle and slow, it was the perfect first, and last, kiss.

Not that she could tell the difference, but Megumi had a hard time opening his eyes again when he pulled away.  He didn’t move far, his hand still cupped around the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair.  A part of him hoped they’d be so knotted together that they wouldn’t ever have to leave this moment.

When he does find the courage to look at her, he’s mentally kicking himself.

Megumi’s sure that the reason the sky was so dull tonight was because all the stars were trapped in her eyes, now being gifted to him under her precious gaze.  Her lips curled into a slightly swollen smile, her cheeks pink with color despite the sun being nowhere in sight, it was perfect, she was perfect, and he can’t believe he’s spent so long missing out on it.

Shit, shit, shit.

“You…” He starts, but he doesn’t know where he’s going.  His head is in the clouds, beyond the clouds, he was completely unreachable.  (y/n) giggles softly at how quickly he’d become tongue tied.  “You should pursue the journalist thing, alright?” 

Brows slightly drawn together from the seemingly random comment, she nods back at him in a small motion.

“You think?” She murmurs back, her hand squeezing his.  It sends a wave of warmth through his arm and into his chest, and Megumi has to fight the urge to frown, because his mouth was still exposed.

Pulling his hand from hers, he touches it gently to her jaw, then her cheek.  She leans into his touch, welcoming it completely.  Her smile only grows upon feeling the warmth of his palm through his glove.

“I have a feeling that you’d succeed at anything you put your mind to,” He says, and it’s sort of cheesy, but it’s the absolute truth.  Her lips part in surprise at the sudden seriousness in his tone, but she doesn’t say anything, just lets his words linger on her mind.  “No more middle of the night walks, though, alright?” He says, shaking her head just a tiny bit to make sure it would get through her thick skull.  “If you can’t sleep, just put something on tv, like a normal person” 

Her hand raises to cover the back of his, cradling it against her face sweetly.  Megumi thinks the sight will be ingrained in his memory for the rest of time.

“Then how will I see you again?” She says, only half teasing.  Her eyes are wide and hopeful, and Megumi stalls by brushing his thumb over her cheekbone a few times.

“I’ll be around” He murmurs, nodding his head through his uncertainty.  Was it a good idea to see her again? 

(y/n) nods back at him, before letting his hand go and reaching for the bunched up material of his mask, pulling it back over his face.

It was hardly a good idea to see her this time, and she’d actually needed his help.  Look where that had lead him.

“I hope so,” She mumbles, seemingly just as uncertain as he was.

He finally drops his hand from her head, fingers carefully detangling themselves from her hair so as not to irritate her head, or maybe he just needed to linger near her a little longer.

Who was he kidding.  He was going to find himself in this position sooner or later, wasn’t he?

“I guess… you know where to find me,” She says, wrapping her arms around herself, even though it was a nice night with no breeze.  She squeezes herself for comfort.

When did it start, exactly? Was it the little secrets she confided in? Or her worry when he’d shown up to class a few days ago with a black eye? Megumi struggled to pinpoint when things took a turn down the path of no return.

“If you change your mind on that interview…” She adds with a soft smile.  She hopes he’s smiling back at her.  

He is.

“I’ll know where to find you,” He repeats, hoisting himself onto the railing of her fire escape, and standing up on the thin bar with complete balance.  He made it look easy.  “Goodnight, (y/n)” 

“Goodnight, Spiderman” 

He took off then, completely silent as he leapt from the escape and swung off, nearly invisible in the darkness.

(y/n) couldn’t help but sit outside her window a little longer, replaying the events of her night yet again, and wondering just how he figured out her name. ___

Megumi had resigned to sitting in the back of all of his classes for the rest of the year.

It’s not a huge deal, he can learn fine from any seat in the class, and as he realizes this he comes to realize that there was never really a good reason why he chose to sit near (y/n) before.  All of his complaints that she was an obnoxious bother had dissolved into… nothing.  He chose to sit near her every day.  Whether it was right behind her or two seats away, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he always chose to be near.

And now that he wasn’t, it was driving him crazy.  He longed to be closer, to sit behind her again, maybe even right next to her.  Had he really been so dense all this time? 

Though their interactions had been swindling since he’d put more focus into Spiderman than he had in school, (y/n) hadn’t spoken a word to him since their argument in the hall, and that was almost two weeks ago now.  

The last thing she’d said to him, she’d said to Spiderman, not Megumi.  Still, he tries to keep the soft, precious way she’d bid him goodnight in his memory.  He didn’t want to forget a single moment of the last time he’d spoken with her, not the things she said, not the way she touched his skin so delicately, and certainly not the kiss.

Megumi leans his chin into his hand now, fingers covering his mouth nonchalantly.  However when he presses the pads of his fingertips against his lips, it’s not the same.

They caught eyes here and there, but that wasn’t the same either.  He’d come into class late, she’d cast him a short glance, but it was always quickly returned to the front of the room.  Not so much as a taunting glare was directed his way.  It was safe to say he’d finally gotten her off his back… and he’s never felt like such an idiot.

It was worse outside of classes.

He’d spend his nights swinging around town, lazing through patrol, busting perps when they came around, but crime was dwindling by the day, it seemed.  He liked to think that Spiderman was making a difference, but he’d been a little rough around the edges lately, and he knew deep down his reputation was morphing into a ruthless fighter.  

Spiderman wasn’t just keeping peace, he was keeping criminals in fear.  Not that Megumi was perturbed by this- for one, he’d long held that reputation already, so living with it as Spiderman felt no different.  Secondly, the quiet nights were comforting.

The free time was starting to become a problem, though.  He couldn’t stop himself from trying to visit her.  He’d be aimlessly swinging and the next thing he knew he was on her block, near her building, almost approaching the very fire escape at her window where they’d last seen each other.  It’s difficult to make himself turn around and swing the other way, especially on the clear nights when he can see her light is on, and he knows she’s awake.

She’d kept her promise, it seemed.  He’d swing by often enough to notice the flicker of a tv screen, just close enough to know she was home and safe, but he tried not to linger too long.  He didn’t want her seeing him checking in, and he definitely didn’t like the idea of sitting outside her window like a creep.

More than that, he feared that she’d be delighted to see him again.

It had been a week since that night on her fire escape- with the rescue, the kiss- and Megumi really tried to keep his distance.  He indulged himself in passing by her window more times than he could count, but he was careful to keep himself hidden, so she would have no idea his watchful eye was never too far.  If he kept this up, he hoped that she would forget about it altogether.  That’s what would be for the best.

Sitting across the street perched on the roof of a building like it was the most natural place in the world to sit, Megumi dropped his chin in his hand as he stared longingly at the only lit up window in the apartment building across the street.  At this point, he’d probably spent more time looking at that window than he had in his own home.

He didn’t want to forget about what happened.  He didn’t want her to forget about what happened.

His mask crumpled in his other hand, he tore his gaze away from the window to stare down at it, cursing it mentally for giving him everything only to ruin it.

It wasn’t Spiderman’s fault, though.  Megumi was just as much responsible for the rift he’d put between himself and (y/n), long before that damned spider bite.  He’d always pushed her off, kept her at arm’s length or further, if he could help it.  He was the one stubborn enough to never let anyone in.  He was the one that pushed her into treating him with the same insufferable attitude he’d directed at her, way back then.  So much could change within a year, he supposed that was true for everyone, but he couldn’t ward off the self pity that came over him, thinking he’d surely changed too much within a year.

At the feeling of the first raindrop hitting his exposed head, he sighed, running a hand through his hair to dry the following drops of water before pulling his mask over his head again.  Of course it’s going to start raining on him when he’s sitting here feeling bad about himself.

He doesn’t intend to get any closer to her building, being right across the street already felt too close, but with the extra cover of the rain starting to pick up, Megumi thought maybe tonight he could get away with being just a little closer.  Just close enough to make sure she was okay in there.  He might not be able to do anything about her sleepless nights… but it couldn’t hurt to check, right? He would leave as soon as he was sure, and then he would try not to return.

He’s not stupid enough to climb directly onto her fire escape- but then again his being here was pretty stupid already so what was one more idiot move? Instead Megumi perches himself on the one above it, opting to hang over the bottom of it just enough that he could peek through the window.

To his surprise, even though her tv is on along with the rest of the lights in her room, (y/n) is nowhere in sight.  He doesn’t think much of this at first, she very well could be in the bathroom, or the kitchen.  But just as he tries to rationalize her disappearance, the hair on the back of his neck stands up, and in the next second her window was sliding open.

“Boo!” 

Her whisper yell as she leans out the window and towards his dangling head is comparable to that of a child’s.  Completely un-scary, and followed by a string of delighted giggles.

Megumi freezes, and he would’ve fallen right off the fire escape if his reflexes didn’t have him shooting out a web of safety to hang by.  He’s still upside down, swinging in front of her, but (y/n) leans out further to steady his movement by his shoulders.

“Scared ya good, huh?” She muses.  Her grin was a sight for sore eyes.  “Serves you right, stalking a girl like that” 

“I wouldn’t call it stalking” 

“What would you call it then?” 

Her hands are still pressed against his shoulders.  Megumi’s not sure if it’s to keep him from swinging, or if she was keeping her own balance as she leaned the upper half of her body out her window.

“... is it a crime to visit people?” 

“Usually when they’re trying to creep in through a window” She quips back.  Her smile only seems to brighten the longer she looks at him- even if she did sort of just call him a creep.

“For the record I wasn’t trying to get in” He corrects, his own smile beginning to grow under his mask.  He couldn’t deny how good it felt to see her like this again, to be able to talk to her, even just look at her.

“Just spy from the outside?” 

“I don’t like the narrative you’re spinning,” Megumi scoffs.  “What happened to honest journalism, hm?” 

She giggles at that.  The corners of her eyes crinkle as she gazes at him fondly.  He liked this side of her banter- the playful side.  It was fun.

“So you think you can honestly say you missed me, Spidey?” She asks in a voice made of pure sugar.  It rots his teeth, melts his insides, and makes all his senses go fuzzy.

“I thought we weren’t going the nickname route” He deadpans, avoiding the question.

With her smile pursing to the corner of her lips, something about her demeanor changed then.

“It’s only fair, since you know my name,” Her tone is just as light, but her eyes are calculating, and Megumi knows he’s slipped up.  And again just now, by not having a quick enough response.  “And I’m certain I didn’t give it to you… so… how do you explain that one?”

“Did you think I wasn’t going to have an interest in figuring that out?” Megumi chuckles, hoping he could play it off.

(y/n) presses further out her window, far enough now that the rain starts to dampen her hair, but she appears to pay it no mind.

“I don’t like it when you’re cryptic, Spidey” She huffs.

Again, Megumi laughs.

“It sort of comes with the whole anonymity thing” He answers.

She tilts her head at him, as if she could study him even with the mask on.  Megumi couldn’t deny the paralyzing effect it had on him.

“Why does it feel like you’re a stranger to me… but I’m not one to you?” She asks him slowly, as though still debating on asking him at all.  “Why does it feel like you know me?” 

“You do talk a lot” 

Megumi’s grasping at straws now, but at least that gets a small laugh out of her.  He hopes it’s enough of a distraction, hopes that she lets things go back to the way they were.  He didn’t need her trying to put together the puzzle that was Spiderman, it couldn’t lead to anything good.

“You know what I mean,” She murmurs.  She raises a hand off of his shoulder, reaching for the hem of his mask in a way that wasn’t supposed to feel familiar to him.  “You think you’d ever tell me?” She asks as her fingers toy with the material’s edge.

“Who I am?” Megumi asks dumbly.  Besides the raindrops slowly running down her face, there’s no change in her expression.  There’s a glimmer of hope in her eye as her fingers slip under the mask, not quite lifting it yet, but holding it with the clear intention to do so.

The silence lingers until she has her answer, and Megumi thinks this might be the damning moment that he’s been trying to brace himself for.  She’ll probably rip his mask right off, and then who knows how she’d react upon seeing it was him all this time.  He knew he was faster than her, he could easily swing away before she could have the chance.

A nervous, breathless laugh breaks tension, and she gently peels the mask towards his chin.

“I guess I’ll just have to figure it out on my own, then” She muses playfully.

“An investigative journalist now, are we?” Megumi asks, but there’s no time for further banter when she’s got his mask bunched up at his nose and that’s all the further it needs to go before he’s meeting her lips in a wet kiss.

The rain was not a welcomed experience, it had (y/n) shivering and it was irritating Megumi’s now exposed nose.  It made their kiss slippery and messy, and with him still being upside down it didn’t exactly make things any easier.

Neither of them cared.

All of (y/n’s) interests lied in kissing him and then kissing him again- she couldn’t help it, even if he outright refused to tell her his name, he kissed her like a dream.

Shaky, wet palms steadied on either side of his face, trying to pull him even closer.  He follows her direction as best he can, but with his hands still occupied with the web to keep him from crashing onto her fire escape, Megumi’s left with his neck craned as far forward as he could push.  If he hadn’t held onto the last scrap of his sanity he would’ve dropped down from the railing and crawled right through her window.

He was getting carried away.

“(y)- (y/n)-” Her name is whispered soft and broken into her lips, and she knows this is his way of ending whatever this is, but she can’t help but leave him with one last lingering kiss.  He doesn’t push her away, doesn’t even go still against her kiss.  He waits, all too patiently, until she has to lean back and catch her breath.

“You’re going to leave,” She says softly.  It’s not a question, she already knows.  He might think that he’s difficult to read, with his monotone comments and the mask that’s easy to hide behind, but he wasn’t as great of a mystery as he might think.

He frowns.  It looks a little awkward upside down.  (y/n) gives him a sad smile and carefully maneuvers his mask back into place.  It doesn’t take long before she misses the small glimpse of his face that she was allowed to see.

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to see you again?” She sighs.

The raindrops on her face could easily be mistaken for tears.  Megumi slides his hand out of her hair to dry her face, and he can’t keep away the memory of him drying her actual tears.

“You will,” He assures her, but the nagging feeling doesn’t quite go away.  “You just… might not know it” 

A lump forms in Megumi’s throat when he says it, and it only grows when her eyes light up with intrigue.

“Is that a hint, Spiderman?” She muses, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Get some sleep” He encourages, already lifting himself onto the fire escape of her upstairs neighbor.  Disobediently, she pushes herself further out her window to follow his movements. 

“I will see you again?” She asks as she looks up at him, not minding the pelting of raindrops soaking through her clothes and hair.

Against his better judgment- as things always seem to be when it comes to her- Megumi nods his head.  He doesn’t say a word before swinging away, knowing he’d overstayed his welcome by a longshot.  Even without looking back, he can feel (y/n’s) eyes on him as she watches from her window.

And when he thinks about it, he can still feel her lips against his. ___

(y/n’s) not sure of the last time she walked into her 8am class and saw Megumi had gotten there before her.  It stops her in her tracks, still in the doorway, staring at the boy hunched over his desk in the back of the class scribbling in his notebook at an alarming rate.

Wait… was he cram studying for their test today? 

She scoffs, and he lifts his head to give her a bored glare.  Of course he’d noticed her when she’d come in- he’d heard her coming from the hallway- but he wasn’t about to give her the reaction she wanted.

And it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his expression hardened and neutral when it came to her, so Megumi had been trying to avoid looking at her completely.

Keyword, trying.

“Don’t tell me you actually didn’t study” She says, a knowing little grin tugging at the corners of her lips as she looks him up and down.

Megumi holds his blank stare for as much longer as he’s capable of before turning his attention back to his notebook, pen scrawling loudly yet again.  (y/n’s) brows raise at the intensity at which he was writing, shocked that her assumptions seemed to be proven correct.

“Wow” She mumbles to herself, before walking straight to the back of the class.  

Megumi tries to ignore her, she probably just wanted to click her tongue at him in disapproval before she’d go pick out her favorite seat and ignore him for the rest of the period.  But she’s approaching so quickly and suddenly she’s leaning over his desk and he has half a mind to cover his work, as if there was any kind of damning evidence there.

She eyes the messy notes before glancing up at him, his gaze already set on her.  For a moment it pins her in place, has her freezing up just as she had a moment ago, but the feeling melts before she could question the severity in his eyes.

“If you want to borrow my notes, you’ll have to ask” He tells her, his voice unwavering and devoid of any emotion.  She rolls her eyes at the typical behavior.

“Unlike you, I cared enough to study last night” She replies, and she’s just about to turn on her heel when the unexpected happens, and Megumi actually has a response.

“That so?” 

His change in tone irks her, and she can’t put her finger on why.  But the tilt of intrigue matched with the way he smirks has her heating up.

Out of irritation, of course.

“Duh,” Her arms cross over her chest defensively.  “I’ve been studying all week” 

Even as Megumi resumes his note taking, his stupid smirk is still plastered on his face.  If she was more inclined to violence, (y/n) would’ve wanted to smack it right off.

“I’m sure you have” He mumbles, watching out of his peripheral vision as her arms shoot down to her sides, hands balled into fists as she gasps and gapes at him.  Clearly, she took offense to the comment, and he had to bite back the chuckle at it.

“What are you trying to say?” She snaps at him, but she’s not nearly as intimidating as she wants to be.

“Didn’t really say anything,” He replies, tone holding no emotion again.  “You just started freaking out” 

“I’m not freaking out,” Her eyes narrowed.  “God, why do you have to be so-” 

Before she can finish he looks up at her again, and again it’s like he’s stunned her with the way his gaze seems to pierce right through her.  He looks pleased with himself, too, as if he was just dying to hear what she was going to come up with.

Peculiarly enough, her throat goes dry, and she can’t quite remember how she was going to finish that sentence.  Megumi must figure her out, too, because his smirk almost resembles a smile now, and her heated skin was starting to become unbearable.

“So…?” Megumi repeats curiously, hoping to egg her into finishing her thought.

(y/n) huffs, shaking her head in her agitated defeat before turning around and marching towards her usual seat.

Megumi returns to his work with a smile on his face.  Her preference for Spiderman might’ve been clear as day, but there was something satisfying about knowing one way or another, he had a knack for getting her worked up.z

___

Despite her hopes reaching impossible heights, (y/n) hadn’t gotten another visit from Spiderman in quite some time.  It had been about two weeks now, and she hadn’t noticed even a shadow outside her bedroom window.

She gives him the benefit of the doubt, because for some reason unknown to her she’d grown to care for him enough to make every excuse necessary.  He was doing important work out there, she’d tell herself while sitting at her window, longing eyes looking for any sign of life out in the sleeping city.  It wasn’t like he had all the time in the world to spend on her.

Or while wandering the halls from class to class, while her eyes were trying to catch every stranger that walked passed, she hoped to find some flicker of familiarity in anyone.  It might’ve been naive of her to think he could be as close to her as being another student at her school, but she couldn’t help herself.  She couldn’t stop the ‘what ifs’ from plaguing her mind.  She was so full of hope it was rotting her from the inside out.

Her focus was never quite all there.  In class she’d mindlessly take notes, her attention shifting about the room, trying to catch the feeling of being watched, but she always came up empty handed.  There were no eyes on her, she concluded after days of paranoid searching.  It was just a placebo effect her mind had come up with in her hoping to find him.

As if she was just going to happen upon him as easily as looking at him and knowing.

It was the same even around her friends.  The usual group she’d sit with at lunch had noticed her change in demeanor, but not knowing how to bring it up to her they tended to continue on conversing as if she wasn’t actively ignoring them as she searched the cafe.

“What are you looking for?” One of them had asked one day, a slight wince on their face when she startled and turned towards them again, as if she’d completely forgotten where she was.

“Oh, nothing,” Her reply was less than convincing.  “Just spacing, I guess” 

Maybe that part was sort of true, but it wasn’t a good enough excuse for anyone to take her seriously anyways.  So she was left alone to barely pick at her lunch and scan the cafe with an undeniable skip in her heartbeat.

(y/n) was starting to think she was going crazy, but it was like an itch she couldn’t scratch.  She just had a feeling that she was close, and to stop her from chasing that feeling would take a force her lunchtime friends weren’t able to muster up.

Her grades had yet to be affected, but her uptick in strange behavior wasn’t going unnoticed.  Her participation had dipped dramatically, some of her classes actually dragging on in near silence as no other students filled the gaps of her incessant questions and comments.  It was clear to her professors and peers that behind her wandering eyes was a void of class-related thoughts.  Whatever was occupying her every passing minute, had nothing to do with her studies.  But she maintained her perfect grade point average so effortlessly it was difficult to reprimand her for her lack of attention in each class.

Megumi had watched from the background as her sanity seemed to slip further and further.  At first, it had been a bit amusing.  He’d noticed right away, the way her eyes caught every guy walking into class, the way she seemed to pick each one apart with only her eyes.  She must have been gauging whether or not she deemed every one of them capable of being Spiderman.  It was hard not to smile to himself when she’d ultimately look away from each one, unconvinced.  

One was too short, the next too tan, another just didn’t have the right vibe, Megumi wished he could read her thoughts as she scrutinized each passerby in silence.  He was never too far from her, so it was easy to watch the hope radiating off of her as she tried to find the source of the eyes on her.  Luckily for Megumi’s rapid senses, he was always facing another direction when her gaze flickered his way.  Not that she ever quite looked at him the way she looked at the others.  He could feel her eyes sweeping right past him, pausing on a boy sitting just a few seats to his left instead.  But yet again she was facing away and trying to come up with someone else.

Megumi wondered why it was that she felt so sure Spiderman was in this very school with her.  Tokyo was a heavily populated place, and he knew she was smarter than to assume he was this close to her all this time.

(Of course… he was… but how could she have any idea of that?) 

With every passing day she seemed a little more dazed.  Which was an interesting look on a know-it-all like her.  Her interest in the world around her took a nosedive, and it was obvious to a watcher like Megumi.  She looked like a gray spot surrounded by the bright yellow of her lunch table.  She stuck out like a sore thumb in every class, finally having learned to pipe down and retreat in on herself.  She didn’t look depressed, it was just clear as day that her interests were on anything but what was going on around her.

Again, he’s entertained by this for some time.  There’s a swell of pride and something warm and new in his chest whenever he sees her so openly looking for him.  Hopeful eyes scanning every crowd, every class, only to never properly focus on him.  He should feel relief that he doesn’t seem to be even a passing possibility to her.  Instead, all he feels is a few skips in his heartbeat knowing she thought he was someone worth searching for.

Well, Spiderman was someone worth searching for, at least.

But the entertainment drains fast when her preoccupied mind lands her crashing into someone in the cafe.  A freezing cold iced coffee is dumped all over the front of her pretty blouse, ruining it instantaneously.  Megumi happens to look up just as the incident takes place, the hair on the back of his neck standing up on alert and his eyes finding her in the crowd in a moment’s notice, just in time to watch her crash.

And just as she steps away from the person she’s crashed into, her focus shifted to her soaked and stained shirt, an unsettled feeling crawls over Megumi’s skin as he notices who it was she just so happened to run into.

The frat boy that had been bugging her not too long ago.  The annoying guy, yeah, that one.  Megumi was pretty damn sure this run in wasn’t as accidental as it looked, but he stayed seated at his empty table, with faux attention on the book in his hand.

His eyes hadn’t returned to the page since his little sixth sense had drawn them towards the whole situation.  It’s upsetting that he isn’t surprised to see that when (y/n) hurries out of the cafe, Fratboy follows.

He huffs, shutting his book without marking it and tossing it haphazardly into his bag.  He hadn’t even gotten to finish his lunch.  Maybe he could sneak a few bites in his next class.

(y/n’s) trying not to tear up as she rushes into the empty corridor outside of the cafe.  It wasn’t like her to cry over a stained shirt, but it was just so embarrassing to have to go the rest of her day with the obvious mark.  Not to mention it was cold and wet and sticking to her skin and- jesus, of course it was soaked through enough that the black bra she wore was visible now.  

Even as she pried the material forward off of her skin, she could still feel the sticky remnants of coffee underneath.  It wasn’t like she had a spare outfit in her car, and she still had three classes left in her day.  Was she really stuck in this wet shirt until then? 

“Sorry princess, it was an accident, swear!” 

And to make matters worse, it appears she’d been followed.

(y/n) can’t help the groan of frustration as she releases the material of her shirt, letting it stick to her torso again.

“It’s… it’s fine, it’s whatever” She grumbles, waving off the guy she recognized as the cafe bother, or so she coined in her mind, never having gotten his name during all the times he’d hit on her.  There’s not much sincerity in her words, but she doesn’t need him lingering around while she tries to decide what to do.

“I did try to dodge ya, but you really weren’t looking where you were going,” He continues, despite her obvious disinterest in his entire presence.  “Is there anything I can do?” 

He comes closer and on instinct she backs away.  Her expression alarmed and eyes cautious when he pressed closer anyways.  It’s not that she thinks he’s going to hurt her, but she doesn’t want him any closer than arms’ length.  Ten feet would be nice, but unless she wanted to draw more attention to herself by turning and booking it down the hall, arms’ length would have to do.

“No” She answers, as firm as she can get herself to be.  To her, this is the part where he should walk away.

He looks apologetic as he steps forward again, but this time her step backward has her almost up against a wall, and now her senses are on high alert.  Discomfort courses through her, a feeling worse than the cold coffee sticking to her skin.

“C’mon, I could at least help you get out of your-” 

Fratboy doesn’t get a chance to finish his statement when a harsh grip lands on his shoulder and pries his body to move with ease.  His initial reaction is to fight back against the force, but he doesn’t get to do that either, as he’s spun around and shoved into the wall.

Even the snarl on his expression disappears when it’s Fushiguro Megumi that presses in close and keeps him pinned to the wall.  His bruising grip is replaced by his entire forearm caged against his collarbone, just barely pressing against his throat.

A yelp dies in the back of (y/n’s) throat as the whole thing happens in a matter of seconds.  It’s as if she blinks and suddenly Megumi’s there prying this guy out of her personal space as if he was personally offended by the act.

“H-hey man, what the hell is your problem?” The waver in Fratboy’s voice is embarrassingly clear.  Megumi would laugh if he was in a joking mood.  He’s not.

His hard expression is terrifying up close.  (y/n’s) standing just a few feet away and even she feels a slight shiver go down her spine.

“Pricks like you,” Megumi mutters, and Fratboy swallows a fat lump in his throat.  “Skipping around like you’re hot shit and get to have anything you want.  Pretentious pricks” He spits the last part out through clenched teeth.

All (y/n) can think about were the rumors from last year.  The guy Megumi supposedly put in the hospital.  Those rumors had been enough to have people steer clear from him.  She didn’t even let herself get too close when pressing his buttons, even if intrigue plagued her mind.

“I didn’t- I didn’t do anything!” Fratboy tries to raise his voice, a pitiful attempt at puffing his chest and making him appear more of a fighter than he really was.  His head swivels, wide eyes landing on (y/n), who was stuck frozen watching it all unfold.  “Tell him!” He shouts at her, and she startles just a little.  Not because she was afraid of the demand, but because as soon as it came out of his mouth, Megumi’s foot brought enough force to have the guy’s legs straighten up, which in turn kept him further back into the wall.

If Megumi could push the guy clean through the white painted brick, he’d be a bloody mess stuck inside of the concrete already.

“Don’t look at her,” The command comes out in a growl.  Megumi didn’t need to raise his voice to sound tough.  His brows are furrowed tight and low over his piercing eyes, which were half the force keeping Fratboy against this wall.  “Humor me, prick,” Megumi asks, making sure his attention couldn’t be drawn back towards (y/n) a second time.  ��How come your shirt’s so pressed ‘n clean?” 

The guy’s lip wobbles a bit before he manages a small “H-huh?” 

“Your shirt,” Megumi’s voice is colder this time for having to repeat himself.  “How come it’s so clean?” 

“I- I- because I do my laundry?” He asks weakly.

Megumi rolls his eyes, letting them fall shut as his head tilts towards the high ceiling.  This guy had to be joking.

“Wrong answer,” He huffs.  “I’m gonna let you go, and you’re gonna go buy yourself another overpriced pretentious fucking coffee, got that?” 

Fratboy’s brows furrow, but he nods his head shakily in response.  Perhaps Megumi’s arm was pressed too hard against his chest, and he was finally out of air.  Megumi could only hope.

“And you’re gonna take that coffee and dump it over your head” 

“What!? I’m not-” 

“So you’d rather take the beating?” Megumi asks before the guy could protest too much.  His brows are raised, his interest genuinely piqued.  He had no problem with either option.  Having this prick walk around with a broken nose or an expensive shirt with a big brown coffee stain seemed like a win-win situation to him.

It’s clear that Fratboy remembers the last prick that pissed off Fushiguro Megumi, and he must remember that he wasn’t given options, because the back of his head defeatedly hits the wall behind him when he mutters out his choice.

Megumi gives him a solid nod, and he only pushes him a little bit when he drops his arm and steps back so he was free to leave.

Fratboy only takes a step and a half.

“Forgetting something?” Megumi barks, hard eyes freezing him in place before he could get close to re-entering the cafe.

Fratboy awkwardly maintains the eye contact, confusion clear in his features.  Megumi jerks his head towards (y/n), who’s silence evidently hadn’t made her invisible to the two.

“Oh, s-sorry- I’m sorry” 

It’s a weak ass apology, but Fratboy assumes it’s acceptable enough because when he rushes himself back into the cafe Megumi doesn’t stop him again.  He gets a few odd stares as he gets in line for a coffee with apprehensive eyes and his hands anxiously buried in his pockets, but he keeps his head down the entire time.

“Wh- why did you do that?” (y/n’s) mumble is the only sound in the empty hallway.  Her voice wants to stay stuck in her throat, but when it’s clear that Megumi isn’t going to give her an explanation- or say anything at all- she forces herself to ask.

His eyes fix on her, and an odd sensation settles over her.  All the previous fear and anxiety melts away.  She’d gone so rigid, her sense of fight or flight disappearing completely and keeping her stuck in place hoping she wasn’t going to be witness to a nasty fight.  But she hadn’t expected that.  Megumi’s intensity had been terrifying, even if it wasn’t directed at her, standing by and watching it had her throat closing up and her heart racing.

But he’d hardly even hurt the guy, just… humiliated him.  Still, it was just as shocking to watch.

And now, being alone with him and trapped under his stare, what she feels isn’t fear.  It’s… curiosity.

His eyes wander over her, reassuring himself that she was fine, maybe just a little shaken up by the whole thing.  She was probably more embarrassed than anything.  He could live with that, as long as she was safe.  He just couldn’t have placed his trust in that frat prick.

“I don’t like assholes” Megumi answers, his voice as monotone as ever, as if he hadn’t just scared the shit out of that guy for her.

The lump in her throat grew hot as the realization struck her.  He’d done all that for her? 

“Well- well yeah, but…” Her brows furrow, her head shakes ever so slightly as she tries to put her thoughts to words.  “But he didn’t do anything, just… was an asshole” 

“You don’t know that” His reply was quick but his tone didn’t shift.

(y/n’s) eyes widen, the furrow in her brow smooths out, and she’s at a loss for words as she keeps staring at him.

You have no idea what he was capable of doing.  Spiderman’s words repeat in her mind now as if he were standing right there saying them to her.  It’s uncanny how similar his warning was to Megumi’s just now.

“He probably would’ve fucked off if I told him to” She makes a weak argument in an attempt to fill the overbearing silence.

Megumi doesn’t say anything, just beckons her to follow him as he takes off in quick strides down the hall.  She should probably tell him to fuck off, but her curiosity gets the best of her, and she finds herself hurrying to catch up to him.  He’s not walking all that fast, but his stride is significantly longer than hers, and she finds herself out of breath as they round the corner and he enters the first empty classroom they come across.

“Maybe next time you’ll learn the lesson and tell him to fuck off, then” Megumi grumbles, more to himself than to her, but she takes offense nonetheless.

“Well sorry I wasn’t expecting you to show up out of nowhere and threaten the guy” She mutters back.

Megumi scoffs before shrugging his backpack off his shoulder.  (y/n) watches his every movement as he opens it up and digs around inside of it.  She wants to ask what he was looking for, but her words are stuck in her throat again, and this time she can’t get them to come out.

“I didn’t threaten anybody, relax,” He tells her in a voice that could’ve been more comforting, but it was at least steady and sure.  “It should make you feel better that he’s probably gone and made a fool of himself, now” He adds.

“Oh, thank you for that” She replies sarcastically.

“You’re welcome” Megumi replies in complete seriousness.

She opens her mouth, gaping at him, probably about to lay into him for taking her clear mockery as sincerity, but before she can he finally produces what he’d been looking for.

A tee shirt.

She blinks in dumbfounded silence as she stares at the plain black material in his hand.  His brows are raised in an impatient expression, but she doesn’t take the offer right away.

He sighs.  He’ll just have to do all the work, huh?

“Would you rather go the rest of the day in that?” He asks, nodding to the obvious mess of her shirt.

“It- it’s not that bad” She argues, her stubbornness forever getting in her own way.

“It’s going to reek of coffee” 

“I happen to like the- the coffee bean scent-” 

“It won’t be anything like that” 

“It’s not even that wet anymore” 

“I can see your whole bra now” 

That does the trick in shutting her up, her head snapping downward to reassess the damage done. The groan she lets out morphs into a whine before she looks up at the balled up shirt in his hand.  He vaguely stretches it towards her, and with a huff she snatches it right out of his hands.

As soon as he turns his back to her, busying himself with closing up his backpack, she’s peeling the ruined shirt over her head and quickly shrugging into the fresh tee shirt.

Besides the ridiculous proportion, she’s quick to notice the scent that clings to it.  She dips her head once it’s covered her, trying to place a name to the smell of fresh laundry.  Pine? Is this what pine smelled like? A part of her hated how good it smelled, how addicting it was to keep taking small sniffs.

“I’m… dressed” She says quietly when she’s gotten enough sniffs in and realizes that Megumi’s still just standing there.

When he turns, his eyes wander over figure not so subtly, but his expression is unchanging.  Even if his brain is going haywire seeing her in his clothes.  It’s just a tee shirt, but he takes a mental picture.

He realizes she must not wear black very often.  It’s striking on her.  It must be why his mouth has gone dry and he has to force himself to look her in the eye.

“Good?” He asks, already turning to leave the classroom.

She can’t believe he’s going to leave just like that.  It felt like nothing had been resolved here- and if anything, she only had more questions.  She doesn’t know what to say to make him stay, she’s not even sure he would stay if she asked him to.  He didn’t exactly seem to have any interest in being around her… ever… but then why had he put himself through all this trouble? Her muddled mind was a mystery, but the puzzled look on her face gave Megumi enough of an inclination to linger for just a minute longer.

“What?” He sighs, but her confusion is still plastered on her face.

“I… I don’t know…” Her voice is barely a mumble.  It doesn’t match the way her face tilts and shifts into something different.  She takes a step closer to him, a bold and large one, putting herself far closer to him than she ever would’ve imagined doing before.  She was supposed to keep a certain distance, Fushiguro Megumi had a reputation after all… but something was different.

This wasn’t the Fushiguro Megumi that she knew and despised.  In fact, this was a completely new person.  He was… familiar.

Megumi doesn’t step back when she draws in closer, but his neck leans backwards with apprehension, chin tilting lower to keep his eyes on her every movement.  It’s not like she’s able to do anything, there’s no mask to be ripped off, no secret identity to be figured out just from her stare alone, and yet something makes a pit grow in his stomach when she gets too close for comfort.

He’s never been this close to her.  Not without the wall of protection that was the Spiderman mask.

There’s nothing stopping him from walking away.  There was no harm in leaving her stranded in a classroom.  But something keeps him there anyways.  Something keeps him waiting for her to explain herself.

Her eyes drop his gaze, but they don’t fall far.  They land just a few inches lower, he can feel the prick of the daggers they stare against his lips.  Subconsciously he licks over them to soothe the ache of their sudden dryness.  Her look wanders just a little bit, but never too far.  Mapping out his chin and jawline, quickly down his neck and then back up again to his lips.

“What the hell are you doing?” He finally finds his voice when she leans in a little closer.  Not quite close enough to kiss him, but close enough that she could lean in if she wanted to.

(y/n) snaps out of it instantly, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushing when she looks at him properly again and realizes what she’d been doing.

Fushiguro Megumi? Spiderman? God, what was she thinking? 

“N-nothing” She stammers out, and before he could call her out and further her embarrassment, she brushes past him to make a quick exit out of the room.

Megumi’s left alone, his own cheeks flaring up with heat, but he can’t pinpoint what exactly causes the blushing, and he doesn’t really want to stand around to figure out why. ___

Megumi doesn’t show up to the last few classes of the day.  (y/n) notices.

Her fingers pinch at the hem of the tee shirt he’d given her, rolling the soft cotton over the pads of her fingers in contemplation.  Her focus on uncovering Spiderman’s identity during class has dwindled, but she’s not paying any attention to her studies, either.

For the last few hours of her day, she replays the events of the day in her mind on fast forward and rewind, over and over, trying to find something she felt she missed.

When had Megumi followed her out of the cafe? Had he seen what happened? Why was he so angry? Why was he so kind to her? Why was he so… 

It’s on the tip of her tongue, the timing of it all, the peculiarity of it all.  She knew she just had to be missing something.

Her trip home is quicker than usual, her steps as fast paced as her racing mind.  What was it? What was it that she wasn’t seeing? 

It was so close she could feel it looming right over shoulders. ___

Never before had she sought out Fushiguro Megumi.  But (y/n) couldn’t get the feeling to go away no matter how hard she tried, and she feared the only way out was through.

She didn’t want to confirm her assumptions without any proper evidence to base it all on, and she had a feeling that he was a pretty good liar, so she’d have to get creative with catching him.  The best way to start, she figures, is by getting him alone.

It takes longer than she hopes.  Megumi’s not an easy person to approach and he appears to like it that way.  She stares him down when he comes in late to their first class, and his eyes catch hers for a moment longer than usual, but without a change in his expression it’s hard for her to get a good read on him.  He takes his seat in the back of the class and she can’t get him to look at her again, no matter how many times she turns her gaze over her shoulder to steal another look at him.

After a few more classes with the same outcome, she supposes she’ll just have to wait until they break for lunch.  He’s always sitting alone there, so she has her hopes up that it will be easier to sit down and prove it then.

But of course today is the day he’s not seated at his usual corner table all to himself.  She waltzes into the cafe with nothing but confidence, and it’s ripped away from her when she sees that gloomy table empty.  She lingers for a few minutes, hoping to catch him walking in later than the rest, but he never comes.

With her confidence boiled down to irritation, she storms out of the cafe on a mission to have this ended once and for all.  She couldn’t possibly wait any longer, so one way or another, she was going to find and corner him.

The courtyard is empty at this time of day.  The weather was cloudy and with the high chance of rain in the next hour, no one wanted to spend their free time eating lunch or studying out there.

Ever the outlier, that’s where she happened to find Fushiguro Megumi.

She’s not sure if she should grin or grimace when she approaches the tree he’s sitting under.  He’s wearing his usual oversized headphones, and he’s got both his textbook and notebook opened.  He was the perfect image of don’t bother me.  (y/n) feels adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream as she rushes over to him.

It’s sort of strange.  Just a few days ago she would duck her head and keep walking if she happened to cross his path.  But it was like all of his intimidating qualities had just… disappeared.  Despite the vibe he was trying to put off, he didn’t seem as unapproachable anymore.  He didn’t seem as scary, although when she thinks about it long enough, (y/n) figures she’s probably the only person on this campus that interacted with him.  Even if it was to antagonize him, she’d never seen anyone else speak to him.

A few days ago, he was Fushiguro Megumi, the boy with the bad reputation and even worse attitude.  He was her academic rival, a thorn in her side that reminded her of faults just by existing.  Today, she thinks he might just be the boy she’s been falling head over heels for.  The one with careful words spoken by gentle lips.  The first person in a long time that actually made her feel seen, and a feeling of being understood could work wonders on a stubborn heart.

“Hey!” She hollers, and Megumi jolts as he looks up to find her walking up to him.  His expression scrunches up as he pulls his headphones down around his neck, and lowers his dual books.

“What do you want?” He asks, but the words aren’t nearly as harsh as he wants them to be.

She stops just before him, and invites herself to sit down beside his outstretched legs.  He wants to tell her that he’s busy, that he’s studying out here alone because he wants peace and quiet, but he’s silent as she drops her backpack in front of her and opens it up.

“Thought you’d want this back” She says, pulling out a familiar black tee shirt.  She hands it to him folded in a neat square.  He almost laughs, knowing that when he’d offered it to her it had been a crumpled up ball.

“Right” He says, but before he takes it, she pulls it back towards herself, unfolding it.  Megumi watches with furrowed brows.  Was she not giving it back? 

“I’ve just had this weird feeling lately,” She explains as she opens the shirt up completely.  Megumi’s confused expression flickers between her and the shirt.  “So I wanted to see something” 

She starts bunching up the black material then, which Megumi watches with growing bewilderment.  Why even fold it? What was this? 

“Okay…?” His voice trails off when she looks up at him again, and the next thing he knows she’s leaning in close, holding his tee shirt up to his face.  “What the- (y/n), what the hell are you doing?” 

She ignores his questioning and the way he tries to swat her hands from getting any closer, but it doesn’t stop her from doing exactly what she aimed to do.  Holding the black material up to cover half his face, from the bridge of his nose up, all that was left to see was his mouth down.

She couldn’t deny that it wasn’t a familiar sight, but it was hard to prove her theory on that alone, and she sighs.

“(y/n), this is annoying.  And weird,” Megumi starts, his hands wrapping around her wrists in a careful hold, but enough to start to pull her and the tee shirt she was trying to blindfold him with away.  “Can I have the shirt back or not- mmph!” 

Just as he thinks he’s put a stop to her weird antics, she takes him by complete surprise when she darts forward and presses her lips against his.  Megumi’s eyes go wide, although he’s still half hidden behind the shirt, he can’t help but keep them open as her soft lips move over his with familiar gentle passion.  His confusion melts away the longer she holds the kiss, and by the time he thinks he should put a stop to it, it’s already too late.  He’s connected the dots and so has she.

He sighs against her mouth, his fingers twitching around her wrists, unsure as to whether or not he should let her go or pull her in closer.  (y/n) breaks away from the kiss just as she releases his shirt.  They both let it drop to his lap, and she finally gets to see the whole picture.

His features have fallen to soft surprise as he gazes back at her, waiting for whatever was about to come.  He doesn’t know if he should brace himself for something good or something bad, but he does his best to put his walls up anyways.

Her own eyes are wide with recognition, flickering between his own troubled eyes and the lips she’d just spontaneously kissed.  Her tongue darts over her bottom lip thoughtfully, and for a second, Megumi thinks she’s going to give it a second try just to be sure.  She doesn’t have to say anything right away for him to know exactly what she was thinking.  She knew those lips.  She knew that kiss.  He’d gotten his cover blown over a kiss, of all things.

What he doesn’t expect is for (y/n) to let out a breathless laugh of delight, once the gears in her mind start to turn again.  Her eyes are glimmering with an excitement she couldn’t contain.

“I told you I’d figure it out!” She keeps her voice hushed, which he can tell takes a great deal of effort.

“You always go around kissing random people?” He mumbles, thinking maybe he can play it off, maybe there was still a chance of gaslighting her into thinking he wasn’t the masked webslinger that had been slowly sparking up a romance with her.  

There’s not even a small chance, though.  (y/n) pulls her hands out of his gentle hold just to reach for his face, curiously skimming over his jaw, and then down his shoulders.  His attempts at reaching for her hands again to stop her from practically running them all over him are weak, and it’s easy for her to ignore his clear attempts at stopping her.

“Wow, I almost can’t believe it,” She begins to mumble to herself, her eyes moving at rapid speeds as she puts the picture together in her mind.  The lips she’d memorized in the hopes of finding them again, only to find they were on Megumi’s face, she lets out a delirious string of giggles.  “I mean, it makes sense now, but it also doesn’t- why did you keep coming to see me?” 

Megumi opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get a single word out before she’s throwing more questions at him.

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t figure it out? I’m top of the class you know, and you’re not exactly great at hiding things-” 

“Second to the top,” Megumi reminds her with a slight roll of his eyes.  “And it took you quite a while, you know” 

“Yeah, well, the secrecy thing was fun for a bit,” She argues.  “But you barely tried to hide it.  Coming into class looking like you got hit by a bus? What were you thinking?” 

“That you hated my guts and didn’t care if I did get hit by a bus?” He replies with a smartass smile.  Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

Her hands fall still against his collarbones, fingertips barely tapping against the base of his throat with her excitement.

“It was you this whole time…” She murmurs, but she doesn’t sound as disappointed as Megumi expects.  Her gentle eyes feel piercing as they stare at him thoughtfully, as if this was the first time she was really seeing him.  In a way, it sort of was.  “Were you ever going to tell me?” She asks quietly, and this time she does wait for him to say something.  

Megumi sighs, regarding her soft expression with thoughtfulness.  There was no coming back from this now.  She figured him out and he barely even tried to cover it up.  That was a hard thing to do once she’d kissed him, though.  She must’ve figured out his weakness, and happily used it against him..  Typical brat.

“I thought about it,” He says honestly.  “Just didn’t seem like a good idea,” 

The corners of her lips barely turn into a frown, and Megumi can’t help himself from reaching out to her, cradling her jaw in as light of a touch as he could bear.  It was different now, feeling her warm skin against his without hiding in a suit, behind a mask.  He knows she must feel it, too.

Everything was completely different now.  She must be upset with him, right? She must at least be discouraged in finding out it had been him all along.  Not someone with a better track record, maybe someone more attractive, or at least nice to her.  He wonders if she had her hopes up for a specific person.

“Are you upset?” He asks.  He doesn’t want to know all the answers to his questions, but he asks before he could shove down the curiosity and avoid it forever.

“Upset?” She repeats, brows furrowing momentarily with her confusion.  “What do you mean?” 

“Y’know,” He mumbles, long lashes flickering as his eyes fall to her lips for a moment.  He looks at her again before continuing.  “That it’s me.  That it’s been me” 

“Oh,” She hums, thinking for a second.  “Well… did you mean it all?” 

“Mean it all?” He repeats her now.  “You mean while I was Spiderman?” 

(y/n) nods in a small motion.

“Yeah… did you mean all the stuff you said… and did?” She adds the last part in an even quieter whisper than the rest, but the look in her eyes is so full of anticipation it speaks volumes over her voice.

“Yeah, of course,” Megumi answers without a shred of hesitation.  “Of course I did,” He says it again, leaning forward with emphasis, his eyes never leaving hers.  “(y/n), I didn’t want you finding out because I didn’t… I didn’t know that I would…” He trails off, his nerves starting to crawl up his throat for having to admit so many truths in one sitting.  This one seemed to be harder than the rest.  “I didn’t know I’d like you so much” 

She laughs, breathless and sweet, humored by such an honest confession.  It finally makes a real smile creep over his lips, relieved to see that her reaction was anything but negative.  His heart skips a beat, and his thumb trembles as he reaches to stroke it over her cheekbone.  He can’t help but want to pull her in closer, hold her properly, maybe even kiss her again.  It should scare him, that she knew the truth now, that he was vulnerable to her now, but right now all he feels is a weight lifted off his chest, and the lingering taste of her chapstick on his lips.

“I definitely didn’t plan on liking you so much either,” She admits softly, her cheeks burning with color.  Megumi can feel the heat in her skin when he presses the pad of his thumb further against her cheek.  “Are you mad about it?” 

“Mad?” He laughs, his smile becoming a full blown grin now as he leans in closer to her.  Her fingers curl into the material of his shirt as he draws her in closer, too.  Anticipation has her eyes flickering between his lips and the deep blue eyes that haven’t left hers since she’d kissed him.  “Mad about what? Getting to know you? The real you? And falling for you?” 

Her eyes grow wide as she stares back at him.  For a guy that hid behind a mask for weeks, he sure got comfortable putting his cards on the table fast.

“No, I’m not mad about it,” He answers her properly, closing enough distance in between them that his nose prodded against hers.  Her eyes fluttered shut before she could stop herself, her chin tilting forward to meet him the rest of the way.  “I’ve wanted nothing more than to be with you, like this, for real, since you brought me that dumb bag of vegetables” 

“It wasn’t dumb, there wasn’t ice” She argued.  Her lips had just been brushing over his in the ghost of a kiss before she jerked away to argue some more.  Ever so stubborn, he thinks with nothing but fondness for her.

Megumi doesn’t let her go far, pulling her right back in until her lips landed on his, and all further arguments died on her tongue.  Her hands relaxed their hold on his shirt as her lips moved against his with muscle memory.  Soft and so pliable, she melted right against him, leaning closer and closer until they were chest to chest, and Megumi moved his free arm to wrap around the dip in her back, keeping her tucked as close to him as he could without disconnecting their lips.

She finally gets to card her hands through his hair, scraping her nails over the nape of his neck before pushing the longer strands between her fingers.  It becomes impossibly messier than usual, but Megumi only hums in delight as she messes it all up.  He must’ve always wanted more, too.

Her fingers tangle in his hair and she doesn’t let up even when they part to catch their breath.  Megumi stays close, his forehead resting against hers as he pants over her lips, leaving her still wanting more.

“You know I still have a million questions, right?” She murmurs, and Megumi can’t help but place the softest of kisses against her lips as she speaks, even if he was still breathless.

“I don’t feel like sitting and talking right now” He mumbles, chasing her lips for another kiss.  She giggles, kissing him back but not nearly as long as he would’ve liked.  Pulling away all too soon, she stares at him with wide eyes.

“I mean, how do the webs work?” 

“(y/n), we have class in ten minutes, that’s not nearly enough time to get into it all,” He sighs, his hands smoothing over her hips and trying to draw her closer again.  “Can’t we just enjoy this a little longer, and talk about all of that later?” 

Huffing, (y/n) leans back in, and it makes Megumi smile if only for a moment.  She stops short just before her lips could touch his.

“So… did Spiderman put that guy in a hospital last year?” 

Megumi groans, dropping his head back against the trunk of the tree.  She wasn’t going to let this go, and that reputation was going to follow him forever, it seemed.

“Alright.  C’mon, we’re headed to class,” He prompted her to grab her things and stand with him, but she kept her hands in his hair too secure for him to want to stand up.  “(y/n), I promise I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, later-” 

“Let’s just skip class” She suggests, all too eagerly for a girl that bragged about being at the top of their class.

“Yeah, right,” Megumi scoffs, but when her expression doesn’t waver, his face falls and he stares at her bewildered.  “You’re not serious…?” 

“Why not?” She replies.  “We can afford to miss a couple classes,” It’s not a bad argument, Megumi’s just shocked to hear her say it at all.  “And.. I want to be the first one to get an exclusive interview with Spiderman” She giggles, and Megumi huffs, giving her a bored look.

“I’d rather go to class” 

“And we can make out” 

“... I guess some catching up isn’t a bad idea” 

It takes them some time to gather their things and get going, only because (y/n) insisted on keeping her hands on him in one way or another, but even if Megumi pretended to be annoyed it wasn’t a believable performance.  He kept her close with his arm wrapped firm around her as they made their way off campus quickly, hoping to beat the rain.

“You know, I’m thinking of calling you the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman when I write about you,” (y/n) tells him on their walk to her apartment.  “Has a nice ring to it” 

Megumi laughs humorlessly.

“Not sure it paints a very accurate picture,” He tells her, brows raised as he watches her pout up at him.  “But you’re kinda gonna be my publicist, so I guess I’ll take what I can get” 

“Hey! I thought you said you were falling for me” (y/n) sasses back.  Megumi bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too hard.  He tosses his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as they walk.

“That was off the record” He mumbles.

She beams up at him, he pulls her a little closer into his side, keeping an eye on her only from his peripheral vision.  He couldn’t be getting too sappy with the way he looked at her now, he’d grown too used to having a mask to hide the dreamy look in his eye.  Now though, it was completely on display for her to see.

(y/n) quite liked the view that she got now that he was mask-free.  She’d always had her suspicions that Spiderman was handsome, and quite the victory it was to be proven right in that department.  The stubborn, monotone, boy with a reputation part was just… an added bonus, she supposed.

She also supposed that she’d come with her own reputation now, too.  With Megumi never far behind he took on a role akin to guard dog.  She couldn’t deny she grew to like the feeling, melting at the protective way he kept close whether he had the mask on or not.

He had a certain responsibility to uphold when it came to keeping Tokyo safe, but he had a responsibility to those he loved, too.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

[ncutii-gatwa]

he becomes more and more a perfect ken everyday

[weaselle]

i wanna do a thing where i lay out studies that show things in different primates that show us parts of ourselves as humans. Call it Primates: Through the Looking Glass or The Monkey in the Mirror or something

There are studies and documentaries that show things about Gorillas, Chimpanzees, Bonobos, Baboons, Macaques... that just make sense to me. That if shown right would make sense to a lot of people, i think.

like... they were studying this one group of gorillas --

okay wait. First of all, you know a silverback (the Big Male) of the group is not the leader or in charge or anything, right? He has a role, and it includes a certain amount of control, which i’ll explain briefly, but he’s not, like, in charge.

wait, you know all that Dominance/Alpha theory about wolves is all wrong, right?

wait wait wait, and also that like, the bull or the stag or whatever in a herd is not in charge of anything, right? right?

hold on. the wolves is it’s own post, the herd thing i might get back to, we’re on gorillas, okay. Silverback is basically just the male head of an extended family in which plenty of the leadership is handled by the women of the family.

There are often 2-4 silverbacks, but one, usually the largest, will clearly be senior to the others who are often his sons or brothers. Silverbacks have three main roles

1: defend the group from all physical threats aside from people, these threats are mostly random male gorillas, chimpanzee baby-snatching gangs, and the occasional leopard. Just his alert presence handles most scenarios, and then maybe a few times a year he has to risk his life fulfilling this responsibility. It is this role that provides most of whatever actual power he has over the group, namely this: while he isn’t necessarily the one deciding when and where the group goes on a daily basis, if the most powerful/capable silverback does decide to travel a direction, they pretty much have to go with him, the family isn’t safe without him.

2: make babies. And this is one area where the ladies of the group will sometimes sort of vote with their ovaries, and favor a silverback that isn’t the main one, like “yeah, Frank, you are the biggest, but honestly you’re a dick and we’re going to make sure the next generation of silverbacks isn’t another one of you.” When you see a main large silverback in a group of gorillas, it isn’t, like, his blindly loyal harem, they have to approve of him. Also gorilla females move between groups, and sometimes they take members with them or start new groups and stuff. Anyway i’m getting off track, one of the silverbacks jobs is making babies

3. keep the peace This functions a lot like being in the back seat with your siblings with your parents up front. Basically any disputes within the group have to be handled within a certain parameter of decorum, because if it gets too out of hand HE’s going to come over, and He’ll be upset, which is low-key terrifying because He’s huge, and there’s no telling who He’ll decide is at fault or what he’ll do about it, so letting a situation get out of hand is a losing scenario for everyone involved really. Tho typically he will favor senior females in disputes, in a “don’t you talk that way to your mom” kind of way.

one last thing, silverbacks don’t actually transfer power between silverbacks via battle every time.

Like i was just reading accounts from a multi-generational observational study of some wild gorillas that featured one big silverback just straight up taking over by performing the silverback duties better and becoming preferred by everyone else in the group. There was no fight, it just became, i do the job better, everyone likes me better, kicking my ass can’t change that, and boom, he was the primary silverback. And the other silverback might have been a bit dull, or a bit of a bully, but like us their species’ success is largely dependent on social intelligence; once he saw the writing on the wall, that other, slightly larger sivlerback didn’t even bother trying to change the situation with a physical fight, he understood what had happened.

okay so all that was just to tell you all this story. lol. Here’s what i saw in one documentary:

This very big, getting old silverback, who was hugely popular and successful, with a very large and tightly bonded family group, and a couple of his hulking adult sons backing him up. Everybody in his group seemed to love him a lot, he was particularly calm in that gentle giant sort of way, a safe, emotionally steady presence, happy to help raise his sons and daughters with kindness, and who could become a raging nightmare if pressed by a leopard ... exactly what a band of gorillas wants in a silverback.

But one of his adult sons had plenty of silver on his own back, and was getting itchier and itchier to be main man of the group, and this is where we start our little drama

It seems to be coming to a head, and the observers are nervous about a fight for the position. The silverback and his son are both are huge, probably approaching 400lbs, mostly muscle, with long thick fangs and skulls topped with jaw muscles as big as human biceps to wield those teeth, which nature has given them primarily to fight other gorillas with. 

But then the next day, the old man leads the fam up the mountain.

it’s winter, which is why they have come down the mountain in the first place. But as we discussed, if he goes somewhere, they have to go, so they all follow behind.

up he goes, and then he sits. And waits. It’s cold and there is much less food up here at this time of year. There’s nothing to do but sit hungry in the cold. His size and metabolism makes him the most able to withstand the cold, but even he is pretty uncomfortable. 

And so he sits. And his family, perhaps confused, but loyal, sits around him.

But his son, the other huge silverback, with years of training even as an adult under his wise father, is ready and able to go off on his own. Finally, he stands up, makes clear his intentions to leave this uncomfortable place. A small handful of the other gorillas stand with him -- if he goes down the mountain, then they can safely leave as well. He turns and heads down the mountain. After a moment, a few more gorillas leave the main group to follow. All in all it winds up being nearly half.

The wise older silverback thoughtfully watches his son leave with about half the group. He sits a while longer in the cold, in the company of those most loyal to him, and then takes them along a different path down the mountain

And those two groups still ran into each other sometimes, and were friendly. And sometimes a couple gorillas would change between the two groups. They were still close.

But i just thought that was such an elegant, meaningful way for that gorilla to handle that whole situation. And it makes a completely human sort of sense to me. 

[notherpuppet]

I wrote the full parody to Ready For This in the Role Reversal AU because I wanted to lol.

Transcription below.

Ready For This (Role Reversal AU parody)

Alastor: Have you ever wanted something
That was so clear in your mind that you could taste it?

Susan: You mean like ice cream you get for a friend?

Alastor: Ha! No.
It's a feeling like a rumbling in your gut
That you could finally be faced with
A million greedy faces, I guess what I mean to say is

For the first time in my life
I might have to be ready for this
Ready to be the one who's leading from the front

Couldn’t do it on my own
And history has shown
Legends cannot win wars alone

The burden is a bit too heavy
So I need to be ready for this

Have you ever felt like you're willing to kill
To save the people on your own team?

Susan: I don’t know, seems a bit extreme…

Alastor: Not to me!
'Cause right now, we need a leader
And it seems to be that
Charlie is forcing me to be that
because she’s pissy

So who's with me?

Wouldn't it just be swell to see more of Hell?
Join up now if you like travel
Come on girls, prepare for battle!
Lotta sights to see en route to the hotel
Not to mention all of the glory!

Yes indeed, your enemies will cower

And heads will be severed!

Charlie: You’ll make a bunch of brand new friends!

Alastor: Whatever.

Exorcists: New friends!?
I'm in
Oh whoa
I’m so lonely

It's time now to act
They're on the attack
When they move to strike
Just know we’ve got your back!

We'll follow your lead
We're eager to see
everyone we meet
On the hellish retreat!

From this moment on, you can count us in
To be organized and disciplined

Our thirst for justice
keeps us strong, fierce, and brave
So I say, "Ho hey! Let’s join in his crusade!"

Alastor: Now thats the spirit! Can we amp it up?
Vaggie: Oh, don’t mind their hesitation, that’s just their new inclination


Alastor: But I can awaken their bloodlust!
Vaggie: Careful, kid. Don’t push your luck!

Alastor: Fair enough…

Alastor and Vaggie: We're super duper grateful
To have you gals aboard

Exorcists: We can’t wait to hug an overlord! (Alastor: Yeah, sure...)

Alastor: For the first time in my life
Maybe I can be ready for this
I can be the marshal leading the parade

I can come into my own
And I think I've always known
My destiny could never be postponed

When they come for the hotel

I’ll give em hell cuz I’m ready for this!

Vaggie: They're dancing along?
They're singing his song!?
Charlie: Surprised?
Why, I knew he could do it all along!

Charlie and Vaggie: He’s bound to be redeemed, the dream has a chance!
Though he seemed hopeless at first glance…

Charlie: He’s filled with potential that I could guide!
Vaggie: Fine, I’m in.

Charlie and Vaggie: Stick with him, he will surely see the light!

All: For the first time in our lives
We know that we are ready for this

Vaggie: We’ll show them we can forgive and forget!

All: It's time to lend a hand

Alastor: It is time to take a stand! (Exorcists: Woohoo!)
Against overlords and their deadly threat!

All: We can provide your support
The time has come to stop a war
Defend your home, we're ready for...
THIS!

Alastor: I really hope that they’re ready for this...

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader

As much as you'd like to spend the rest of your life secluded away from the world, you need money. Conveniently enough, a new detective agency in town is hiring, and the salary is ridiculously good. The catch? Oh, you'll see once you sign the contract right...here. Congratulations! You've sealed a lifetime bond with their one and only employee, a demon from the depths of Hell!

Content: female reader, monster romance, dark humor, perverted goat demon yandere, based on ‘Yondemasuyo, Azazel-San’

[Part 2] [Monster masterlist]

There’s still enough time to go back, you think. It’s loud and crowded and you’d rather be home. The temptation is beginning to creep its tendrils over your mind, so you quickly pull out your phone and check your bank account. The numbers remind you why you’re here in the first place: if you don’t get a job soon, you’ll run out of savings.

Come on, it can’t be that bad. In fact, it’s the best offer you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Minimal interaction with humans, short hours, and absurdly good pay. A new detective agency opened in your town and they’re looking for an assistant. A regular person would most likely be put off by such shady circumstances. There must be a catch, but you couldn’t care less either way. What are they going to do, kill you? Sell your organs on the black market? They’d spare you the time to plan your own demise.

You climb the stairs and knock on the door. A deep voice tells you to enter, and you sheepishly make your entrance. The office is rather small and somewhat cramped, with stacks of papers scattered over the floor. Behind the desk sits a man – maybe in his thirties? – with messy black hair, sunken eyes, and an irked expression. Is this the detective? He looks like an angry thug. Not that you’re one to judge, given your overall gloomy aura that deters passersby with ease.

“Yes?” he asks curtly, not even looking up from his book.

“I’m here for the job offer. The assistant role?”

“Ah, yeah. Completely forgot about that.” He rummages through his drawer and pulls out a sheet of paper, slapping it on the desk. “Here’s the details. Same as in the ad. Here’s where you sign. Do you have questions?”

“Hmm, I guess not.” You hum, indifferent, and scribble your name.

The man finally glances at you, faint intrigue on his face.

“This went unexpectedly smoothly. What if it was a scam?”

“Then what?” You stare him in the eye with a flaccid smile. “There’s nothing to take from me. If it is a scam indeed, you’ll be the one disappointed in the end.”

His eyes narrow in an eerie grin, and he stands up.

“Perfect match.”

“Excuse me?”

He walks towards a secondary room and waits for you to follow him. Once you’ve joined, he turns on the lights, and you immediately notice a strange seal painted on the floor: Geometric symbols resembling a pentagram, surrounded by words in a language you don’t understand. You’re carefully observing the strange sight, so entranced that you don’t sense the detective lifting your hand and casually piercing your finger with a small scalpel.

Before you can react to the sudden attack, he presses your hand onto the contract you’d signed earlier. You wince in pain and swiftly pull your hand away, glaring at the man.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you demand angrily.

“I thought I’d already introduce you to the main tool we use to solve our cases.”

The sigil on the ground begins to glow and the edges move in a circular motion. A black ooze erupts from the center, rapidly expanding outwards. You glue yourself to the wall for safety, unsure of what is happening.

A clawed hand emerges from the cursed muck, grabbing onto the edges for support. Within seconds, a creature crawls its way out. A humanoid figure with curled horns and long locks, its body ending with goat hooves instead of legs, stands up and stretches before your terrified self. You tighten your jaw in anticipation.

“You always summon me during my best naps, damn it!” the demon barks.

The detective approaches the monster, completely unconcerned, and slaps its horns nonchalantly, earning a groan from the demon.

“Skip the unnecessary whining. This is our new assistant and your owner as of now.” He explains, dangling the contract before the horned creature and pointing a finger in your direction.

“The fuck? You said you’d end the deal if I completed that mission. You lied to me, you-!” the beast finally notices your presence and abruptly stops. “Well then, what do we have here?”

A wide, perverted smile replaces his frown, sharp fangs glistening with malice.

“Aren’t you a miserable one! You reek of apathy”, the demon exclaims, clacking his hooves in your direction. “Boy oh boy, I could just eat you up! Tell me your name.”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. You wonder if this is some bizarre dream after all. The demon clamps your lips back shut.

“Tempting offer, but I don’t need head right now. Save the gesture for later, alright? Let’s try again: Name!”

Your brows furrow in disbelief at his crass insolence.

“I-it’s (Y/N).” you finally manage to blurt out.

He strokes your head lovingly, as if he’s praising some house pet.

“Good girl. You can call me Zzy.”

For a moment, you completely forgot about the detective being in the same room. He places the demon under a firm hold and shoves him away from you, then hands you a thick, leathered book.

“This is his grimoire. Read it once you’re home. First day is tomorrow unless you need more time.”

“Tomorrow is fine”, you answer in a daze, fumbling to find the exit and ignoring the horned monster waving at you enthusiastically.

You’re lying in bed, still a little shaken from the events you witnessed earlier today. A detective agency that uses a demon to solve matters, and you’ve just been coerced into selling your soul for a lifetime bond with him. You sigh in exhaustion. At least the pay is good, you tell yourself as you trace your fingers over the old text of the grimoire:

“Great President of Hell, ruling three legions of demons. Brings insanity or great sorrow to any person the conjurer wishes. Feeds on sadness and fear. Causes people to end their life.”

Hard to believe that depraved buffoon holds such power. Although it does explain, at least, why the detective was eager to use you as a replacement. Or why the demon showed such intense interest.

“Who’s a buffoon?”

The voice is so close that you feel its hot breath on your ear. You scream and jump back in panic, tumbling out of the bed and scrambling onto the floor. You rub your eyes just to make sure: the half-goat creature is lounging under your sheets, gazing at you with a bored expression.

“Christ! I thought you’re not allowed to leave the office?” you inquire, baffled.

“That’s why I snuck this in your pocket!” he says as he procures a small coin. “I can track down cursed items. Hehe~”

As if remembering a vital detail, he throws himself up and joins you on the ground:

“Oh, but don’t tell Mr. Detective about it, or he’ll feed me to the dogs. It’s our secret.” he pleads, hands put together in a praying gesture.

“What are you even doing here?”

“I figured it’d be useful if we got to know each other as soon as possible, seeing as we’ll be working together from now on.”

“And it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Well…I also got really horny thinking of you and decided to just visit instead. How about a quick fuck?”

“Absolutely not. Eat a raw potato or something.”

“Don’t be like that! At least let me touch your boobs. Help a partner out, eh?”

Perhaps being scammed was not the worst-case scenario. You slap the demon’s groping fingers away and return to your previous spot in bed. It will be a long night.

[pucksandpower]

Use Your Words

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Lando Norris

Summary: in which your boyfriends show you that there’s no shame in using your safeword

Warnings: 18+ content and use of a safeword

Based on @uramakimochi’s request

Note: the fact that I literally manifested the Charlando podium while writing this? I wish team orders didn’t play such a big role during the race but I will take the results and not look a gift horse in the mouth 🫶

Charles and Lando are both rummaging through their suitcases, looking for neckties as you wait on the bed. After their double podium finish earlier today, the three of you decided to have a little private celebration back at the hotel.

“Found one!” Charles holds up a red silk tie with a mischievous grin.

Lando chuckles, pulling out a striped tie in shades of blue. “This’ll do the trick.”

You bite your lip in anticipation as they approach you with the neckties. Charles slips behind you, gently gathering your wrists and using the tie to secure them together. You shiver at his warm breath on your neck as he works.

“Too tight?” He whispers. You shake your head slightly, unable to hide your smile.

Lando kneels in front of you, looping his tie into a makeshift blindfold and carefully covering your eyes. “Can you see anything?”

“No,” you murmur, plunged into comforting darkness. Your senses sharpen, focused on the sounds of their movements and the occasional brush of fingers against your skin.

“Perfect,” Lando’s voice is low. You feel the bed shift as he rises. “We’re going to take such good care of you tonight, princess.”

A thrill runs through you. The three of you agreed on a safeword when you first started seeing each other, a sure fire way to get any driver’s attention and slow things down. But tonight you have zero intention of using it.

Charles’ lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear. “You looked so gorgeous standing below the podium, vibrating with pride. I could hardly keep my hands off you.”

You let out a shaky breath as his mouth blazes a trail down the side of your neck. “Ch-Charles ...”

“Shhh,” he soothes, nipping at your pulse point. “No need for words yet.”

Lando’s hands glide over your thighs, pushing them gently apart. You automatically part your lips in a soft gasp. Fingertips tease along your inner thighs, drawing maddeningly close before retreating.

“So responsive,” Lando marvels. You can’t see him but you know he’s grinning. “I haven’t even properly touched you yet and you’re already squirming.”

Your cheeks flush hot. You want to retort but all that comes out is a quiet whine as Lando’s fingers finally make contact. He chuckles darkly at your reaction.

Charles slips one hand beneath the loose hem of your top, palm skating over your ribs and up to cup your breast. You arch into his touch with a small moan. His thumb brushes over your nipple, adding delicious friction through the thin fabric of your bra.

“So beautiful,” he rumbles in approval. “The way your body sings for us ...”

His mouth finds yours, tongue instantly seeking entrance that you grant with a whimper. The kiss is deep and hungry, leaving you dizzy and panting when he finally releases your lips.

Lando’s long fingers have been steadily working between your thighs, stroking and teasing your increasingly slick folds. You buck your hips without meaning to, desperate for more substantial contact.

“Please,” you finally manage to beg. Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Patience, darling,” Lando tuts, though his own breathing is growing ragged. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder for better access, leaning in to lick a broad stripe right through your heated center.

You cry out sharply, tugging instinctively at the tie binding your wrists. The heat of Lando’s mouth and the soft lap of his tongue are glorious torment. Charles smothers your keening noises with another searing kiss.

Lando groans his appreciation against your tender flesh, lapping and sucking insistently. “You taste so fucking good,” he growls. “Been dreaming about this all day ...”

Arousal is throbbing through you like a second heartbeat. Charles’ lips abandon yours to trail down your throat, his other hand cupping your breast and rolling the nipple between his fingertips. Every nerve is exquisitely alive, buzzing beneath their skilled touches.

Lando’s tongue flicks over your throbbing clit and your back arches off the bed. Your loud mewl is half pleasure, half plea. He grants you no reprieve, mouth working enthusiastically to take you apart piece by piece. Charles captures your lips again, stealing the cries from your throat.

You’re quickly soaring higher, spiraling toward that glorious precipice. Their murmured praises and scorching caresses urge you ever onward. But just when you think you’re about to tumble over the edge, Lando’s mouth abandons you entirely.

You nearly sob at the loss, hips frantically chasing that delicious friction. Charles soothes you with gentler kisses, murmuring praise against your swollen lips. “So good for us, mon ange. You’re doing beautifully.”

You dimly feel the bed shift again, and then there’s a warm mouth trailing kisses up your inner thigh. Charles, blessing you with more delicious stimulation. But just when you think he’s going to grant you relief, Lando’s seeking lips find your other thigh.

“No, no please,” you beg between panting breaths. If they keep denying you for much longer, you’ll go mad. There’s a soft tsking noise and you feel Lando’s fingers combing through your hair. Charles continues lavishing attention on your shuddering flesh.

“Use your words,” Lando murmurs huskily. “What do you need, love?”

You swallow hard, mouth suddenly dry. “Please just … I need ...”

“Tell us, mon amour,” Charles prompts, lips brushing your hipbone.

There’s really only one way to circumvent this maddening tease. You suck in a breath, steadying yourself.

“Box,” you force out. “Box box box.”

All movement instantly stills. Your heart is thundering a rapid staccato, waiting with bated breath for them to respond to the agreed safeword. You bite your lip, instantly second guessing your decision.

Fingers stroke along your cheeks, Lando’s touch infinitely gentle. “Sweetheart,” his normally playful voice is low and soothing, all traces of teasing vanished. “Are you hurting? Do you need to stop?”

You shake your head minutely, abruptly blinking back unexpected tears of frustration behind the blindfold. “No no, I just … please can I just ...”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Lando hushes you. His lips lightly brush your forehead. “Take a deep breath, pretty girl.”

You obey, inhaling shakily through your nose. Charles presses a reassuring kiss to your cheek.

“Talk to us,” he urges softly. “Don’t be afraid to voice your needs.”

“I w-want ...” you stammer, toes curling. “I need you both so badly, please. No more teasing. I just want you to make me come.”

There’s a pause, and for a heart-stopping moment you fear you’ve ruined the mood entirely. But then Lando lets out a low groan of relief.

“Look at you using your words so prettily,” he praises. Charles chuckles softly beside you, nuzzling against your jaw. You feel the bed shift again as Lando moves into position.

“We would never deny you, love,” he murmurs. “Not when you ask so sweetly.”

His long fingers slide home, curling and plunging into your dripping heat. You cry out at the sudden stretch and glorious pressure. Charles lays claim to your mouth again, greedily swallowing your moans.

Lando’s palm fits perfectly against your bundle of nerves, grinding in time with the thrust of his fingers. The spark of pleasure races through you, building and spiraling rapidly higher. Distantly you hear your own broken whimpers bleeding into Charles’ mouth.

“That’s it, ma belle,” he growls, lips trailing over your cheeks and throat. “Let us hear how good we make you feel.”

Lando curls his fingers, nailing that sublime spot inside you over and over until you begin to shake apart. Your cries rise to a sobbing keen, back arched taut as a bowstring.

“Come for us, darling.” Lando’s command is heated, fingers sinking deep. “Let go.”

You shatter with a high wail, rapture cascading through you in scorching waves. Lando strokes you through it, coaxing every last spasm of bliss with his touch until you finally slump boneless against the mattress.

Strong arms envelop you, tucking you securely against dual heartbeats. Gentle fingers trace your features, brushing away the dampness beneath your blindfold. You’re surrounded with warmth and adoration, coddled by their praise.

“Belle fille,” Charles murmurs, lips finding your temple.

“So perfect,” Lando echoes, stroking back sweat-dampened strands of hair. “Our good girl ...”

You sigh in utter contentment, letting their cherished words soak into your very bones. No matter what heights you reach, they’ll always be there to catch you in their arms.

[bunicate]

mimi i wud die for sum wrio incest ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ i need nii-nii to punish his lil sis when she starts actin up and disobeying ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི ₊˚ pairing ꒱ྀི wriothesley x fem reader — warnings ꒱ incest. fucking in leggings. calling your big brother daddy ? creampie. reader is described as small / 18+

i kept u waiting long enough and Im not sure but I may have strayed a witl bit from whut u said but still ! ! wrio-nii <3 muhehe . some icky thoughts and babbling below nonnie.

believe it or not wriothesley doesn’t necessarily enjoy punishing his little sister, but that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to it, especially if you’ve been seeking a less-than-innocent reaction out of him. 

it crushes him to say it, but wriothesley knows that his chilling title as duke at the fortress of meropide doesn’t grant him the same freedoms as others. he’s an overseer, a self-appointed role that he carved himself. part of it is to maintain order; the other half is maybe to fulfill his own sentence and snuff out any remnants of the guilt he couldn’t shake off.

naturally, he’s a protector whose hands happen to be bloodied. if it meant guaranteeing the safety of his little sister, he’d fight his way through anything, even if it meant bruised skin and broken bones. to be at the fortress while you remained in the world above was, to say the least, hard, but he’s working around that obstacle.

its some days, like today ( though rare on occasion ) he takes a well-deserved break.

a long shower, a couple of hours in the at home gym to stay dedicated, and then he promises afterwards that he’s all yours. maybe a picnic, a stroll through the town, a shopping trip—whatever you set your sights on, he’d do it; he’d get it because he has the patience of a saint, but that just happened to be the one thing you lacked.

your attempts at seducing him were messily orchestrated. adorable, and innocent, and his cock strained against his sweatpants nonetheless.

wriothesley’s bare chest expands with each deep breath he takes, greedily sucking up the air to calm his lungs and beating heart after he drops his weight.

though away from the world below, he doesn’t stray from his regimen. even when darling little girls strut in loungewear not even appropriate enough to wear in their own homes, offer him water.

he downs it—gulps it incredibly fast and wipes the remnants of water that escape on the back of his hand. he sets the glass down, and he knows that water isn’t the only thing his body is aching for.

the clothes are practically second skin, your nipples are puffy and alert under your shirt from the air conditioning, and the leggings are tight enough to emphasize the chub of your lower lips.

“why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

it’s a silly question he doesn’t bother to answer.one foot behind the other, hands intertwined, you give him that a stare that reveals more than you let on. your tongue delicately swipes your bottom lip, and his eyes follow. he watches closely when your lips do that small bounce from the release of your teeth.

he wants to wipe that doe-eyed look off your face and rip the flimsy pants off. maybe even ruffle up your pretty pigtails, but you’d hate him if he did. yet, it’s only fair for him to tease in return, and wriothesley isn’t too keen on enforcing discipline. but if you want it so bad, he can’t see why he can’t be voracious just this once.

it takes him only a split second to wrangle your body to the floor and push your cheek into the plush mat. he’s pumped with adrenaline; his brute strength nearly knocks the wind out of you.

those fingers that you love so dearly trail down your hips and backside to finally press down on the seat of your leggings—right where your cunt sucked in the fabric. just two of his digits encompass the size of your heat, and they trace the sticky folds through the cloth. your grip on the mat tightens, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

he roughly rips open your leggings, the sudden exposure to air making you gasp. it’s a wide enough hole to display your plump ass and fat little pussy to his icy blues. such thick, succulent lips dressed in a thin layer of your slick that he wanted to lap up selfishly.

his large hand reels back and collides with the flesh of your butt watching it jiggle.

“hnn— !”

your body lurches forward on impact, and wriothesley flexes his thick arms to keep you still.

“shh, shh. s’okay.”

he rubs the fat of your butt briefly before landing another swift strike.

you squeal, “nii-nii! p-pleaseee !”

the arch in your back deepens, and wriothesley licks his lips in anticipation at your show of embarrassment.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t that right?”

he’s dizzy from the sight of your gaping cunt, and he can’t tell whether to spank it, fuck it, or kiss it first.

ultimately, he decides on spitting.

he puckers his lips, and a tiny glob lands right in the center of your pussy, and he eagerly stares as it disappears between your plump folds.

you flinch away reactively from the moist invasion, scrambling on the floor, but your brother overpowers you.

“come on, don’t run from me now, you little brat.” his hold on you tightens, forcing your ass higher up.

wriothesley begins to tug his pants down and pull out his heavy cock. it’s thick and drooling pre-cum from his wide tip, eager to empty his load inside your tiny hole. he gives it a few strokes and watches you wiggle your butt in excitement.

“put it in nii-nii. i'm so messy down there, so you don’t need’ta prep me. . .”

a manicured nail runs down your slit and separates your fold, and nothing but arousal webs across your twitchy cunt.

“fuck .” 

you are messy.

you’re dripping and creaming, and he’s barely started. he takes his own thumbs to spread your lips apart further, like he couldn’t believe it himself. your vagina thumps erratically, pumping out a bubbly, clear fluid. the squelch is disgustingly loud, and he has to fight himself from collecting the salty drops with his tongue.

he whistles in agreement.

“would you look at that? i guess you’re right. this needy cunt can take my fat cock. ”

he's holding his breath when he presses it against your quivering center.

“i always thought you were too little to take it, but your pretty pussy is more than ready for me.”

he rubs the softness of your skin in awe.

you turn your neck slightly to give him a shy smile. “mhm, s’ only for you. . but,” you shake your hips again. “could you put it in, please?”

slick was now stuck between your thighs, staining your already ruined leggings, and you felt dirty, but not enough to overpower the desire to be fucked by your older brother. you were practically humping the air in utter want, but wriothesley doesn’t match your urgency.

“i’m trying, sweetie, but—” the duke makes no effort—he wipes his sloppy mushroom head on your clit, dragging it in messy circles.

“nii-nii is having trouble.”

his pre-cum frothed into a cloud coating your already wet lips, and he hisses when your pussy briefly twitches around his glans. he nudges your opening teasingly but doesn’t bother to push his way through the tight seam.

he shakes his head in faux remorse.

“see, i guess you’re still too little after all."

you throw a small fit, “that’s not true! i can take it!”

he chuckles at your pouting. the hold on your ass digs into your skin as a warning to not get so worked up.

"then what do you suppose we do?”

he spits again, but this time on his shaft, and he drags his hand up just enough for his foreskin to cup the crown of the flushed tip.

"jus’ ruin it—force your cock in. .”

and he didn’t need to be told again.

two beautiful holes, a tight little knot that he can’t wait to split apart one day, and a wet and fat pussy. was he even strong enough to tough it out a little longer?

he looks up towards the ceiling, muttering a brief prayer. you just might kill him, but he's more than ready.

the tight fist around his member squeezes until a thick drop of white plops against the floor. his balls firm and round flutter with every gasp of air you take. his body is in sync with yours, and as soon as his tip pushes against your opening, it stretches—coaxing in his meaty girth. he pushes all the way in until he's sure he can’t go any deeper, and then pulls back out. his cock shines with your wetness, and he takes a few seconds to marvel at where your groins meet.

without warning his hips to mount forward, and he fucks you with purpose—to teach a lesson.

his pace is far from what you predicted; it's much faster and filled with a vigor you weren’t used to. your big brother prefers to handle you with much more care, knowing that you're just a delicate little thing, but he trusts you’ll get used to it.

you proved time and time again to be adaptable, so you keep your ankles crossed and your face down, smushed into the floor, while he uses your body for his own end. his balls, warm and taut, spank your clit unabashedly, turning the screw inside of you. a ring of milk forms at the base of his cock, and the friction pulls noises out of you you didn’t think you were capable of making.

you move to crawl away and put some distance, but wriothesley doesn't let you.

“nah, be still; let nii-nii use you. that’s what little girls are supposed to do, right?”

he laughs, maybe even out of disbelief. each time he tries to convince himself that it will be the last, he still finds himself forcing his cock inside his cock-hungry little sister. and your moans only elevate in pitch as you get closer to that edge.

“yesssss. ah !—hn—you can use me as many times as you want. m'your little stress toy!”

wriothesley grunts loudly. the sound of your lustful proclamations rattling his very being.

“I'm your little girl. keep fuckin’ me, please, nii-nii.”

he doesn’t want to stop.

the recoil of your round ass from the impact of his thrust is a view too otherworldly for him to separate his eyes from. his body accumulates more sweat, and he continues to deliver those fucks that pushes you harder into the floor. your leggings, other than the gaping rip, were thoroughly obliterated, and the mixture of fluids made the fabric darker and stickier.

“! m’almost there, keep going nii-nii. . . s-so close !”

a foggy cloud slows the whirrs in his brain; all of his thinking ceases, and the only thing he can focus on is finishing inside you. to empty his large balls of his salty seed and pull out more of those choked sobs out.

“s’okay baby. relax . i got you.”

“hnn-! hiccup . mmkay ! i love you s’much."

“yeah, nii-nii loves you too, baby. don’t fucking forget it.”

"i won't, d-daddy.”

he stills only for a moment before continuing.

“daddy ? what are you talking about, silly girl?”

he snickers in between moans and claps of skin. did he fuck you that dumb already?

“I’m your brother princess, don’t tell me you forgot.”

you pulse around his cock.

“mhm, but you’re my daddy too.”

he rolls his eyes and smiles.

“i guess i have a pretty daughter to take care of now,” he says and he’s rewarded with your cute mewls and noises of happiness.

he’d kill for you.

again.

he’s a man free of guilt when he’s the closest to you, and it’s why he feels no shame when he delivers one last thrust and pumps your pussy full of his hot semen.

you welcome it, feeling it fill your belly and it takes few minutes for wriothesley to separate himself from you. the minute he pulls out is when he feels robbed of your warmth, he feels naked but satisfied. his cock layered with thick cum fell limp between his legs and he feels relief that his balls were no longer aching with cum ; it was instead leaking from your puffed cunny.

his hands reached out to touch your sensitive pussy, squeezing it to watch the dollops of his seed drip on the gym mat. your legs shake in desire and it’s when reality sinks in.

you didn’t finish and wriothesley makes no move to get you off. he smirks, he’s sure that this time his punishment will keep you in line.

although, only for a bit .

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere! vox with fem!reader scenario

Warning: obsessive behavior, implied violence, stalking, implied emotional and physical abuse, brief mention of toxic relationship [vox/val], implied brainwashing, knowledge based on spoilers from the first two episodes of the 2024 show and the Hazbin Hotel comics.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to another Hazbin Hotel fic, starring Hell's one and only flat-screened overlord, Vox! Special thanks to @isuckatwritingsobenice and @lbcreations-blog for helping me shape up the rough draft of this piece, I can't wait until I get enough time off from work to watch this series! :)

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's go live with Vox's broadcast!

The overlord of technology has been in an on-off relationship with Valentino for a while, so any affection Vox has received from the egotistical prick is either a ploy to get him to do whatever he wanted or that the owner of the Porn Studios was in the mood to play the role of a lover before he got bored again. He had a brand and reputation to uphold in Hell, so any word about him and Val being together is kept under tight wraps. No one knows about it except maybe Velvette. God knows how many times the moth demon had wreaked havoc in the fashion designer’s office on the way to his own quarters, red smoke and all.

Of course the one tantrum when the television demon decided to not fight back and just dump Val’s ass because he was sick and tired of the bullshit, it had to happen a week until Velvette’s new clothing line was about to go live. So of course he, the most level-headed one of the Three Vs and the one responsible for the mess, had to clean it up. Yeah, just another fucking day with Val. Fuck his life. 

Anyway, he’s a very busy man managing the other V’s social media networks including his own workload in his own studio. Considering that he’s now single again (at least for the moment), he saw no reason to get involved with anyone else right now unless it was to relieve some of his frustrations…privately. Late one evening and on his third cup of coffee, Vox was going through the applications that responded to Velvette’s newest job post. Same occupation, same shitty pay, but every designer and seamstress in the Pride Ring wanted to work with Hell’s queen of fashion. He was just weeding out the applicants who did not have what his associate wanted in an employee. And he’s doing it because he owed a favor, not because he can’t sleep. That was when Vox saw your resume. 

He skimmed through it, raising an eyebrow in slight interest. It seemed a little embellished…but the credentials were there, at least from what he could see. And you were good-looking, so that is a bonus too. Shrugging his shoulders, he swiped his hand to the right, sending the document to the small electronic pile of Maybe and moved on to the next one. That one immediately got sent to the Rejection pile. 

A few weeks later, he saw you working in Velvette’s studio through the cameras, hunched over a desk and so entirely focused on a sketchpad that you paid no mind to her chewing out to the other designers about their shitty designs for the next collection. 

“You! New Girl!” 

Her peevish voice addressing you was what brought you out of your reverie. Straightening your spine, you turned to her and quickly strode to her. You must have known what she wanted, because you gave her the sketchpad. Velvette flipped through it, eyeing the pages critically until her bloodshot eyes widened in delight, tapping a manicured black nail against it rapidly before dragging you to a mannequin, barking at you to start creating whatever caught her attention. And it was rare for Velvette to be pleased with anyone else’s works except her own. Her creativity is what kept her clothing line at the pinnacle of fashion. You were getting more and more interesting as he began to watch you more throughout the day. Discreetly, of course. Vox would be damned if his associate found out that he’s eyeing one of her employees. 

He saw how dedicated you were to your work, how you thrived under pressure from Velvette instead of crumbling from it and that was when your creativity blossomed into its full potential. But what he admired about you the most is that you were always calm. You never raised your voice at anyone. You always looked at a problem as if you were dissecting it before making a move. Creative thinkers took risks, and so did you. 

But he’s not looking for a relationship. He wants to focus on his work. He wants to make his business thrive and crush any competition who would dare to try and get one up over him. He is annoyed as fuck that you’ve caught his attention and hasn’t done anything to make him want to stop looking at you. Why won’t you leave his mind? Why is he constantly looking through your social media accounts to see what you’re up to and if there is anyone else in your life? Why?

Because he’s fucked. Fuck his life. 

Vox believes that he is the brains behind the Three Vs’ success and how they could not have made it this far without his technology and other businesses. But the truth is that this overlord, the one who commanded over electronics, can be emotionally immature if he is pushed too far. You saw how he acted when Alastor made his comeback, right? If you did, well, you now know that his buttons can be pushed if he isn’t seen or acknowledged by someone. And if you were to ignore him as the Radio Demon did…you better run. 

Because if there is a screen or a camera, he will use it to find you no matter where you are in Hell. There is no doubt that he will jump out of it with a static pop, begging you to give him a chance to prove himself with fat, watery tears falling down his flat-screen face. 

He is an overlord, one of the Three Vs. He is good-looking, charming, a manipulator, a liar, he could use his powers to hypnotize into submission if he really wanted to and runs a successful business. What more could you possibly want when he is obviously the best choice to have as a lover in Hell? Can’t you see? You belong to him!

Taglist

@doc-tooth

@lbcreations-blog

@nixie-writes

@imperfectbloodmoon

@chroniccorvus

@angelltheninth

@hellbornediamonddreams

@riddle-simp

@blackmageoffandoms

@tired-of-life-86

@frenchtoastmafia

@lanxianschoenheit

@riotakire

@quintillion4

If you would like to be tagged in future yandere hazbin x reader fics, please comment on this post here. If you do not comment, then you will not be added on the taglist.

[daisynik7]

[F4M] You Leave a Naughty Voicemail for Your Husband While He Works Overtime [Established Relationship][Mutual Masturbation][Car Sex][Sub to Soft Dom][Breeding Kink][Mating Press][No Thoughts][Brain Empty][Just Fucking]

Read Part 1 here!

Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.6k

cw: established relationship, p*rn without plot, smut –  PIV sex (cowgirl, missionary, mating press, doggy), mutual masturbation, mentions of sex toys, edging, blowjob, car sex, clitoral stimulation, spanking, some spit play, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, honey, princess, baby, good girl/boy), slight degradation kink

Summary: You record a naughty voicemail for your husband while he works overtime, leaving him yearning for more. Author’s Note: Hiya friends! Breaking my tumblr hiatus temporarily to post this. Consider this a sequel/part 2 to my other fic inspired by more NSFW audio. Someone gave me the idea to do a fic with the roles reversed, so here it is! Had a blast writing this, so I hope you enjoy! Bonus: here are some NSFW audios that inspired it (of course, they’re AugustInTheWinter): Link 1, Link 2 (reddit links, 18+). Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated, thanks so much for reading! Header image from the manga On Doorstep (it's BL and the MC looks like Nanami, I highly recommend). MDNI banner created by @/mikeykuns.

It’s past eleven when Nanami steps out of the conference room with the rest of his colleagues, having just finished the last team meeting of the day. He was asked to work overtime to help fix any remaining issues before the end of the fiscal year, which is in a few days. Normally, he’d never agree to this, but with your wedding anniversary approaching in a month, he wants the extra income to buy you that gold chain bracelet you’ve had an eye on. 

With all his tasks complete for the day, he can finally leave. He gathers his belongings, checking his phone to see the missed call and voicemail you left him about an hour ago. She must be asleep already, he thinks, not bothering to call you back. When he gets in his car, he props his phone to the mount, ready to listen to your voicemail on Bluetooth while he drives home. He presses play as soon as he pulls out from his parking spot.

“Kento.” Your voice is hushed and breathy. “I miss you.”

Nanami clenches his jaw, already aroused by your sultry tone. He grips the steering wheel tighter, glancing at the phone screen to check the length of the voicemail: three minutes. That’s the limit before it cuts you off. And while the ride home is a mere ten, he has a feeling it will be excruciatingly long by the way this message is already playing. 

You sigh. “I miss you so much, Kento.” There’s rustling in the background; Nanami imagines that you’re turning over in bed, under the covers. What are you wearing right now? The cute flannel pajamas he bought you two years ago for Valentine’s Day? Or the lingerie set you purchased yourself to surprise him for your most recent anniversary? At this rate, for his own sanity, he’s not sure which one he prefers. 

“I can’t wait till you get home, honey. I’m so…” Your voice is heavy with lust; he can see the provocative face you’re making as you squeeze the phone to your ear, reaching between your legs to that throbbing pussy. “I’m so horny right now. I wish you were here.” If he listens closely, he can hear the squelch of fingers flicking your clit rapidly. “But since you’re not, is it okay if I touch myself?”

He’s tempted to slam on the gas and fly through the city to get to you in record time. Break all driving violations and his own personal morals to watch you play with yourself. It’s torture, sitting behind this red light, following the rules, listening to you moan into the phone, so needy and desperate for his cock. What’s worse is that you’re ovulating this week; he knows how pent up you must be from his absence tonight. Fertile and in heat, that wet sloppy cunt begging to be filled with his seed. He promised he’d make it up to you tomorrow morning, but why waste this perfectly good opportunity? Especially when you’re practically begging for it. 

“Remember how good you fucked me last night? How you pinned me down by the wrists? How tightly I squeezed my legs around you as you pumped me full of cum?” It’s all Nanami thought about when he wasn’t focused on work today. Enough to force him into the men’s room to jerk himself off, fantasizing about it. Replaying your wanton moans ringing in his ears, the way your body convulsed around him, that adorably dumb expression on your face while you were getting fucked into oblivion. Normally, he’d be ashamed of himself at how lewd he was being in a work setting, but the memory of you was too irresistible, even for him. 

He’s not usually perverse like this, but something about you drives him crazy. His hands are typically at 10-and-2, the correct position to steer the wheel. But just this once, he deems it necessary to lose his prim and proper attitude. He drops one into his lap to unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, and reach down to palm his cock through his briefs. It’s enough to gain a bit of relief from this torment, at least until he’s safely home. Nanami wipes the sweat beading on his brow, accelerating too hard when the light finally switches to green, keeping his grip steady as he strokes his cock, listening intently to your voice surrounding him in the car. 

“Are you hard right now, Kento?” There’s more movement in the background, as if you’re opening and shutting a drawer. Blood rushes into his cheeks, predicting exactly what you’re about to do. “Do you like listening to me touch myself?” There’s a familiar hum now, and he visualizes the pink vibrator buzzing in your hand, the fluttering tip teasing your swollen clit. He’d do anything to teleport directly into the bedroom and have his way with you.  

“I’m so lonely in this bed without you. I’m fucking myself, thinking about you. Wishing it’s you instead of this stupid toy. Can you hear it, sweetie?”

“Yes,” he answers to no one, shoving his underwear down to release his erection, stroking himself faster with his right fist. He’s forced to stop again; how many fucking streetlights does this goddamn city need anyways?! It’s excruciating. 

“My pussy is aching for your big cock.” The buzzing intensifies; you’ve increased the setting one level, on the verge of an orgasm. Typical behavior of his obedient slut of a wife. He loves sliding his fingers inside while you press the vibrator deeper into your clit. He’s obsessed with the way you gush around him, clenching him tighter, addicted to how it tastes on his tongue when he slides those cum-coated digits into his mouth. 

“Hurry home, honey. I’m waiting for you. This pussy is already so wet for you. I’m going to use you as my sex toy tonight.”

“Fuck, I want that. I really want that,” Nanami moans in response, releasing his cock from his grasp, thighs fidgeting from arousal. 

“You love it when I use you, huh? Love it when I fuck you silly until you’re milked dry.”

He groans, bucking his hips into nothing in the seat, briefly losing control of the wheel, causing the car to swerve. “Fuck, I love it, sweetie. I love it. Please.” He’s not sure what he’s begging for. All he knows is that if he doesn’t get home soon, he’ll combust, taking the car down with him. 

“Fuck, Kento. I’m thinking about how deep you hit it from behind. Slapping my ass, treating me like a bad girl, pounding your hips into me like a fucking animal. I get so fucking cock drunk off you. Makes me want to come just talking about it.”

“Then come for me, baby,” he blurts out, fully aware he’s talking to a recording. He’s completely lost it now. 

“Ah, I’m close. I – ” you interrupt yourself with your own whimpers. Nanami listens as he cruises past the speed limit now, wiping the bead of precum at the tip of his cock with his thumb,  edging himself. It’d be a shame for him to waste his load onto his lap. He’s going to give you every fucking drop he has. Build it up so that your pussy is flooding with his hot, sticky mess. 

You whine loudly, “I’m coming, Kento. Ah, I’m coming for you.” You moan into the phone, and Nanami has to release himself to prevent from orgasming too, Then, there’s silence on your end, except for your staggered breaths and occasionally rustling of the sheets beneath you. Eventually, the voicemail ends without another word, and he assumes that you’ve fallen asleep. He smiles to himself, imagining you, his gorgeous wife, with your legs splayed out, vibrator loosely gripped, completely knocked out on the bed. 

He replays the voicemail, continuing to edge himself until he finally pulls into their driveway, opening the garage. He parks, shutting off the ignition, then searches the backseat for the box of tissues, wanting to clean up whatever mess he’s made. Before he gets the chance to, the door leading inside swings open, and it’s you, standing in the door frame in a sheer lingerie nightgown. The same one he expected you’d be wearing tonight. 

He swallows hard, cock still out, stiffer than ever, watching you step towards the driver’s side, bright face peering through the window. You glance to his lap, noticing the lewd sight. 

You tap on the glass, feigning innocence. “Kento?”

He opens the door slowly, face flushed, eyes half-lidded in a daze. “Sweetheart, please.” 

His slacks have been shoved off haphazardly down his legs, engorged cock sprung against his abdomen, precum leaking out the tip. His cheeks are pink, hair tousled, forehead dewy with sweat. You smirk at him, pleased to see that he’s listened to your voicemail. “Oh, honey. Look at you. Have you been a bad boy?” You surround him with your fingers, jerking him slowly. He twitches at your touch, sensitive and aching in your fist. 

He shakes his head, shutting his eyes closed as you stroke him. “No,” he stutters, “I’ve been very good.”

You inspect the car, realizing what he’s trying to convey to you; he hasn’t come yet. “Oh, baby,” you coo, squeezing his cock in your fist. “You’ve been very, very good. My good boy.”

He nods this time, leaning forward for a kiss. “Yes, I’m a good boy for you. I’m your good boy,” he huffs through gritted teeth. Nanami isn’t normally like this, so submissive and needy. But tonight, he has zero hesitation; he’s begging to be dominated, to be used and toyed with. 

You lick into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “Do you want your reward now? Or should we go inside first?”

He won’t last much longer, so he spits out, “Now. Please.”

You smirk, kissing him messily, tongues swirling, swapping spit while his dick pulsates in your palm. “Fuck,” he groans, rocking his hips into you. “I’m going to come if you keep – ” he chokes on his saliva, unable to finish his sentence. 

You giggle, nibbling at his ear lobe. “If I do what, baby?” You want to tease him a bit more, so you bend over his lap, kneeling on the bottom frame of the car, sinking down on him with your mouth. He throws his head back against the headrest, swearing loudly. You blow him until his cock is lubricated with your spit and he’s squirming above you, ready to burst. 

He pulls you off him abruptly, tugging you towards him. “I can’t,” he urges, completely red now, all frenzied and flustered. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Giggling, you swing your leg over him, straddling his lap and smooching his forehead. “Alright, honey. I tormented you enough.” You’re not wearing any panties beneath your nightgown, so when you start to rub yourself on his shaft, his eyes widen in surprise, staring at you, sputtering a mix of curses and nonsense.

You grin, kissing him softly, rocking yourself along his length. “I told you, didn’t I? This pussy is so wet for you. I’ve been prepping myself all night, thinking about you.”

“Fuck, I’m going to come. Put it in, sweetheart. Hurry.”

You guide him in you easily until he bottoms out, sitting on him without moving, licking into his mouth. His hands slide around your hips, holding you tenderly, staying still, melting into your kiss. Before you can start bouncing on him, he squeezes you, huffing, “I’m coming.” 

His dick pulsates, spurting his hot seed deep inside you. You continue to kiss him, smiling against his lips, pleased and satisfied. When he’s finished, you graze his ear. “Good boy.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, brows knit together, eyes shut tight. He opens one to peek at you, embarrassed. “This is your fault.” The blush on his face cascades along his neck. “You knew this would happen when you left me that voicemail.”

Laughing, you give him a smooch on his cheek. “You’re right. I was being bad tonight. Are you going to punish me for it?” You tug at his tie, loosening it on his collar, trailing his chest to unbutton his dress shirt. 

He relaxes, smirking as he slaps your ass with his palm, cupping the flesh immediately after. You whine his name at the contact, nuzzling into his neck. “Ah, Kento.”

“Bad girls deserve to be punished,” he growls, low and wicked, delivering a fresh smack to the other side. His cock is erect again inside you, stuffing you full once more. “You’re going to take this cock until I can’t get hard anymore. Understand?” He rocks you back and forth on him, thumb pressed at your clit, rubbing small circles. “Until this slutty little cunt is so full of my cum.”

You nod silently, clinging to his shoulders, body trembling with arousal. The switch in demeanor, from him begging you for sweet release to now being domineering and cocky, has you titillating for more. He chuckles, wrapping you in snug embrace, kissing the top of your head. “Look at you, darling. You’re shaking. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay princess?” And his ability to turn on this sweet charm has you softening in his arms, pliant and ready to be played with. 

Soon, you’re inside your bedroom, legs spread wide, some residual cum trickling down the inside of your thighs. He strips his remaining clothes off, cock unbelievable rigid in his fist, jerking himself off to the sight of you in your transparent lingerie, his load leaking from your slit. 

“You’re a fucking slut for getting me worked up like this,” he grunts, hovering over you, tapping the tip of his dick on your swollen clit. “I edged myself the entire drive, saving all this cum for you.”

You bite your lip, holding back the guttural, animalistic moan escaping from within your throat. His confession has you quaking, eager to be filled even more to the brim with his seed, eager to be bred. You can blame it on the fact that you’re currently in heat, or that you’re just this much in love with your husband that you can’t think of anything else you want more in this moment than to be connected with him. You grip the sheets below you, fanning your thighs impatiently, waiting for his cock. “Breed me, honey. Fuck all your cum inside me. I want all of it, every single drop. Hurry.”

Oh how quickly do the roles reverse. 

He slides his cock inside you, his own cum coating it as he pulls out slightly, observing the lewd scene. “Look at how full you are, and it’s still not enough. Such a greedy cum slut.” He spits a frothy wad of his saliva onto your clit, smearing it with his thumb. “You’re going to come on this cock before I give you anything. Got it?”

You nod, closing your eyes, turning your head to the side, losing yourself to the pleasure rippling through your body as he pounds into your pussy, the sensation so intense it resonates all the way down to your toes. He’s so mean, so unlike his usual doting self when he’s in this mood, and you can’t help but succumb to it. He tips your chin back towards him. “Look at it,” he demands. You open your eyes, his expression wild, fucking you faster, his thumb working your clit ruthlessly. “Watch me fuck this messy cunt.” He grips you behind the legs, hoisting you so that your knees are towards your chest, holding you into a mating press. Unable to contain it any longer, you moan loudly, grabbing at your own ankles to keep yourself spread wide for him as he thrusts in and out of you relentlessly. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart? To be fucked and pounded by me instead of that silly toy. To use me and milk me dry of every last drop. You asked for this. This is what you get for being so fucking naughty.” He rests one of your legs onto his shoulder, turning to smooch the side of your knee, sucking on your skin. 

You continue to moan his name until it’s reduced into a blubber of incoherent cries as you’re pushed over the edge, reaching your climax. “That’s it, come on my cock, princess. That’s a good girl.” Still, he doesn’t ease up; in fact, he fucks you harder, spurred by your orgasm, intent on chasing another. “Just keep taking it, okay beautiful? I know you can do it.” He pounds you into the mattress, the bed creaking noisily beneath you with each solid thrust, perspiration dripping from his body onto yours. You’re no longer thinking clearly; everything is in a haze, blissful and euphoric, only your husband on your brain. He’s fucked all other thoughts out of you. Has you obsessed with his cock, hungry for his cum, keen on him to breed your fertile womb.

“Fuck, Kento, right there! Right there!” you cry out, grasping his hair between your fingers, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. 

“Right there, huh?” he teases, slowing his pace to thrust deep into your G-spot, nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “Always taking me so fucking deep.” He grabs your wrist, placing your hand at your clit. “Touch yourself while I fuck you. Squirt on my cock like a good little slut.”

You obey him, flicking your sensitive bud with your middle finger while he watches intently, another orgasm fast approaching. You twitch around him, pleasure overtaking your entire body, sending a rush of ecstasy that has you seeing stars. 

Of course, it still isn’t enough for him. Not after what you put him through earlier. “Turn over,” he mutters, pulling out, cum spilling onto the sheets. “You know what to do.”

He’s right; it’s second nature to you now, to throw your ass back and fuck yourself with his cock. All he has to do is kneel behind you with his hard dick out while you swallow him whole, pumping it in and out of your pussy. It doesn’t matter how pliant you feel, or how fucked out you are, tongue lolling out of your mouth, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. You know exactly what to do to get what you want out of him. 

You can feign innocence all you want, pretend to be shocked when he manhandles you like a fucking rag doll, slamming his hips into you, wet slaps bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. Shrieking when he presses his rough fingers to your swollen clit. Burying your face into the pillow, muffling your shameless moans and shrieks of, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” This is what you intended when you spread your legs earlier, phone in your hand, ready to leave that filthy voicemail for him, knowing he’d listen on his way home. Knowing he’d save all his cum for you because you’re ovulating, and he wants more than anything to get you pregnant. Knowing he’d want to fuck you into a frenzy regardless, always desperate to empty his load inside you. It’s what you want because you know he wants it too. That’s what makes it even better, knowing your husband is as feral for you as you are for him. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he whispers, voice wavering.

Craning your neck to face him, you murmur, “Want to see you.”

He smiles, pulling out, your pussy fluttering around the emptiness, already eager to be filled again. “I want to see you too, my love.” He flips you over, pushing your knees towards your ears into a deeper mating press, kissing you sweetly on the lips. You wrap your arms around him, whining his name into his ear as he fucks you rough, the bed frame precariously shifting with each plunge of his cock. 

“Fuck, I’m coming,” he groans, cock twitching and spurting every hot pulse inside you. “Take all of my cum, sweetheart. All of it,” he mutters, forehead pressed to yours. “I love you. I love you so much.”

When he finishes, he lowers your legs slowly, rolling beside you to cradle you in his arms. You nestle into his chest, listening to his steadying heartbeat. “Are you okay, sweetie?” he asks, massaging small circles into your back.

You nod against him, remaining silent, too drained to even respond with words. He lets you rest like this for a moment before hopping off the bed, stepping into the bathroom, rummaging through the cupboards. Shortly after, he returns to you with a container of baby wipes in hand and a glass of water in the other. 

You’re a mess down there, sleek, wet, and gushing with slick. He kneels beside you, wiping your forehead first from sweat. You peer up at him, smiling, cupping his cheek. “Thank you,” you mouth to him. With another, he cleans your hands, then your legs, always glancing at you to make sure you’re still doing fine. You’re truly grateful for having a spouse as attentive and as caring as your husband, who, despite his typically stoic disposition, always dotes on you so sweetly. 

Done cleaning you up, he traces the outline of your lips with his thumb, saying, “Drink water, honey.”

You grumble at him, pretending to be asleep. He chuckles, leaning in closer for a kiss. “And go pee.”

You peek at him with one eye open, nuzzling your nose to his. “Okay, fine. But after you hold me for one more minute.”

He smiles, sliding his arms around you. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

[luvrxbunny]

okay so let’s think 🤔

i think it’s been a VERY long time since Joel had sex. i’m thinking he probably messed around for a few years after Sarah died just to feel something but after that didn’t work he probably just gave up

so now after over 10yrs of no sex, hes gotten to a point where he thinks he could just live without it. like he barely has the urge anymore.

he doesn’t even get a little inkling until he meets you. but it’s only a twinge in his gut. he doesn’t get hard but he does get turned on, sensitive and the twinge flares more depending on what you do, what you’re wearing, how close to him you’re standing.

but then you guys start dating. because shockingly.. for some reason.. he gives you that same reaction— of course a lot stronger on your end

he explains this all to you, he says it’s his age but you assume it also has to do with everything he’s been through. so you don’t push it! you’d never do that to him, give him that guilt or pressure.

but something about you being his makes that little twinge become a punch to the gut. seeing you in his kitchen, making him breakfast, makes something stir in his crotch that he barely even recognizes.

then he sees you fitting into a motherly role with ellie, maybe closer to a big sister but there is maternity mixed in for sure and that causes something he’s not even equipped to deal with.. he’s starting to get hard.

it’s just a halfie but it’s more than he’s felt in years. and he just has to wait for it to go down. it’s torture.

that goes on for a while. things get exponentially worse when you move in with him. you start acting like his wife. making him coffee to go to work with in the morning, packing him lunch and setting out his clothes. you even wash his boots for him when they get too dirty or on a particularly hot day you’ll have a bath ready for him when he gets home. he’s so hard, he’s leaking.

he eventually has to figure out how to jerk off all over again cus god knows what he likes now. it takes a lot of trial and error but he’s finally able to cum for the first time in way too long.

but that just makes everything worse

because now he knows how to solve the probelm, now that his body knows this is an option, he’s getting hard no matter what you do.

you could come to him with help for a recipe, not able to understand what they’re asking and he’ll get hard. you could walk past him, he’d get a whiff of your perfume and he’s hard. you touch his arm to move past him and he’s hard.

this leads to many trips to the bathroom. he doesn’t last long, not that he tries to anyway, and he’s found that he can cum many times in one day.

you start coddling him because he’s obviously fatigued and god that makes him hard. you cuddle him, letting him be the little spoon as you both take a “much needed and earned nap” and fuck he’s leaking into his boxers.

his entire body is tense and shaking in your sleepy arms. it’s never been this bad before. he can’t think of a time it was even this bad when he was younger.

he sneaks a hand down to his crotch and desperately digs his palm into the tent in his boxers. the relief is immediate, he has to dig into his lip until it bleeds to hold in the groan that wanted out. he can’t believe himself, the depraved man he’s become.

his hand slides down into his boxers and his stomach is trembling at his own touch. something about you being right next to him is turning all his senses up to 11.

his hand wraps around his cock and it’s the most heavenly thing he’s felt. he can’t help the moan of your name that slide up his throat and leaves his mouth as a whisper. you stir beside him and his cock pulses in his hand.

what if you woke up? what would you do if you caught him like this? would you like it?

i got carried away AGAIN

[jeankluv]

Beg me || Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Words: 2.4k

Summary: After arriving in Wano, your team starts discussing which role you will have to infiltrate in Wano but Trafalgar Law is against to the idea of you going with Robin, as a geisha.

Warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessive law, pet names, oral sex (fem receiving), masturbation

Note: Set during Wano arc before Luffy’s group arrives.

Materialist ✨

You arrived at Wano, around a week ago. Right now you were discussing which role each one of you were going to take to infiltrate in Wano.

“I will go with Robin, we could get more information if it’s two of us there.” You spoke.

“No, you won’t.” A voice from one corner of the room spoke.

You looked at him and you raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“With Nico Robin is enough, two will be too risky.” He said once again.

“But…”

“y/n, Torao is right. Don’t worry for me, I will be okay on my own.” Robin held your hands and smiled at you, you returned the smile but you were angry with him.

You stayed silent for the rest of the meeting, but looked at Trafalgar from time to time. Who was he to tell you not to do something? He wasn’t your captain, he was nothing for you. He was stubborn, cold and he didn’t like bread, who didn’t like bread? He made you angry, really angry. The meeting ended and you were the only one who was not going to infiltrate, you had to wait until Luffy’s group arrive, outside the flower capital. You stood up and followed the tattooed man who was the first one to leave the meeting.

“Who the fuck you think you are?” You stood in front of him. “You had no right to tell me what to do and what not to do Trafalgar.” You were angry and Law knew that.

“There was no point in you being there.” He said.

“Why? We could’ve gotten more information if I was there too.”

“So what you were going to seduce men and them give you information?”

“Exactly.” You tilted your head and smirked at him.

“Yeah I don’t think so.” He passed next to you and kept walking.

“Wait.” You followed him.

“You wouldn’t be able to seduce any man.” He said.

“What makes you think I can’t?” You said once again facing him.

“A little girl like you could never.” He said and entered the house he was staying in.

You said he was stubborn but you were as stubborn as he was. So you followed him, you wanted to prove him wrong and you would.

“I will prove it to you.” You entered and closed the door behind you.

He looked at you from where he was. “You are going to prove it to me? Oh y/n you won’t be able to prove anything.”

“I will make you beg for more Trafalgar.” You saw his Adam apple move, he was nervous, anxious, that made you smile.

You knelt in front of him. His eyes focused on you not blinking, not once. You started to touch him, his chest was now exposed, you could see his tattoos perfectly. Your hands started to trace the black tint on his skin.

“You are such a bad boy with all these tattoos right?” You smirked at him. “All this bad boy look you have, with your tattoos, piercings and that cold personality. When the truth is that you probably want someone to make you feel good, right Trafalgar?”

“Are you the one that will make me feel good, baby girl?” He said with a husky voice that made shake.

“I will but only if you are good to me.” You were too close, your lips almost touching each other.

He moved closer and tried to kiss you, but you turned your face away and smiled mischievously at him. He was starting to fall and you knew he would end up begging for you. You made him lie down and you placed yourself on top of him, you began to kiss his chest, going down his abdomen. It was then when you passed your hand over his bulge and you could see that it was already hard.

“What’s up with this Trafalgar I thought I couldn’t seduce a man?” You smirked, resting your hand on that place.

He cleared his throat. “Is not that you couldn’t…”

“And why is that? Tell me…” You said this time putting your hand inside his clothes and taking his hard member with your hand.

“Fuck…” He moaned, you were enjoying this. He was already like this and you didn’t even start moving your hand.

“Already moaning for me, you are as tough as it looks like, but remember Trafalgar I will make you beg for more.” You whispered into his ear and then you bit his earlobe. “Now tell me why you think I couldn’t.”

“Is not that you couldn’t…” His breathing started to be erratic as your hand started to move. “Is that you shouldn’t.” He whispered and letting out a moan.

“Why shouldn't I Trafalgar?” You kept on working on him, you wanted to make him almost reach his climax and then leave him.

“Because I…” He moaned again. “Fuck y/n! I…” He was shaking, you smiled, he was almost there. “Keep on going baby girl.”

And you did, you kept going but then you stopped. Law looked at you confused and trying to catch the air, while you smiled at him with a victorious smile. He begged for you and you were leaving him almost reaching his climax. You wanted to keep going, you were so hot and you wanted for him to fuck you sendless. The thought of having him, inside of you while him calling you pet names, was making you so wet and you couldn’t deny that more than one night you have touched yourself thinking about him, thinking about having those tattooed hands holding you down while crashing into you. But you were a very proud woman and you wanted to take revenge on Trafalgar that night and that’s what you were doing.

“Hey what…” He incorporated and dressed himself. “Where are you going?”

“To my place.” You smiled at him and turned.

You felt his big hand around your wrist, making you stop. “As if I’m letting you baby.”

“Oh? What’s this Trafalgar? You will start to beg?” You mocked him.

He smirked and fuck he was dead handsome, you wanted to kiss his lips so badly. “I will baby, if that means you will be mine.”

You bite your lip. “You want that Trafalgar? You want me to be yours?” You smiled at him.

He nodded and got closer to him but you backed up, you weren’t going to let things be that easy. He wanted you, then he should beg.

“Don’t tell me… the reason you refused to let me go with Robin, was because you didn’t want another man touching me?” You grabbed his chin and made him look into your eyes.

“Wasn’t it obvious, sweetheart?” He smiled with the cockiest smile.

It irritated you that you couldn't go with Robin, but the fact that the man in front of you had become jealous at the mere thought that you could be with another man was making you hot and you could already feel your entire being throbbing. You bite your lip, looking at his golden eyes and then at his messy dark hair. Fuck, you loved seeing him without his hat.

“C’mon baby, let me taste you.” He was now the one grabbing your face.

“Gentle Trafalgar or you won’t taste anything.”

You let him kiss you and for god's sake, that man knew what he was doing. You couldn’t lie that the thought of him being intimate with another woman made you feel some kind of jealousy because you wanted all for yourself. And you were going to have him, just for you.

He started to kiss your neck while trying, at the same, to undo the knot of your clothing, oh he was desperate. He groaned against your neck and started to go down your chest, leaving wet kisses in every place he was kissing. You separated from him and left your chest exposed in front of him.

“Do you want this Law?” You said touching your breasts.

“I want…” He said, grabbing you from your hips. “Please baby, let me…”

You observed his breath hitching when you took his hand and left it resting on your breast. He started to play with your nipples making you moan every time his mouth was on any of them. You started to play with his hair while he kept working on you. You could feel yourself getting more wet with each minute and you needed Law to start using his surgeon's fingers on your soaking pussy. But there was no way you were going to beg him for that. Law separated from you and began to take off his clothes, leaving him only in his underwear, which did not hide his bulge in his crotch. You licked your lips at the sight before you and like him, you took everything off leaving you in just your panties.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, you won’t even think again about another man in your life.” Law whispered into your ear and then kissed you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing yourself into his tattooed chest, skin against skin. The sensation was driving you crazy. His right hand started to move down further, until he was cupping your sex. His index finger presses against your clit making you moan instantly.

“So fucking wet just for me.” He whispered, starting to move his fingers over your panties making you move your hips, wanting more.

You gasped when he moved your panties aside and one of his fingers entered your pussy and started moving it. Fucking Trafalgar knew what he was doing with those fingers. Law introduced another one making you moaned even harder.

“Fuck…” You hold into him.

“What baby girl? Tell me what you need.” Law spoke.

“I need you… Touch me, fuck me Law.” You looked into his eyes and you saw the smile that appeared on his face.

He took your panties off and threw them somewhere in the room and after that he did the same with his underwear. Fuck he was big and thick, you were going to enjoy this. You laid down looking how he started to crawl to position himself above you.

“Are you going to fuck me already Trafalgar? Or are you going to look at me like you’re looking to a piece of meat?” You smirked at him.

“I’m going to fuck you like never before.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “And I’m looking at you like you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life.” Your stomach flipped, how was he able to say those words so easily?

You wrapped your legs around his hips, allowing him to enter you. You gasped when he started to enter on you, your walls stretching while he was pushing deeper inside your body. You arched your back at the sensation Las was causing throughout your whole body. Once he was complete inside of you he stayed there for a few moments, not moving, just heavily breathing. You started to move your hips, you wanted more, needed more.

“Baby, if you do that I won’t be able to last for long.”

“Not even 5 minutes Trafalgar? That’s a shame.” You mocked him.

“Don’t tempt me baby, I will fuck you all night.” He said and captured your lips starting to move his hips, crashing into yours.

You moaned against his lips and dug your nails on his back. Law began to speed up, grunting into your lips. You wanted to be on top so you broke the kiss with Law and made you turn around so you were finally on top of him. His dick felt even bigger in that position, making you gasp at the new feeling. You started to bounce on his dick up and down, while he enjoyed the view you were giving him.

“C’mon Trafalgar don’t be shy and touch me.” You told him with a mocking tone.

He swallowed and began to touch you, every part was touched by his long fingers, making you throw your head back, enjoying the pleasure that Law was causing you. You felt like he was burning you in every place where his fingers landed.

The room was filled with moans and the sound of skin slapping together. You began to speed up your movements, going down and up, you felt like you were about to come and you could feel Law throbbing inside you.

“Fuck y/n…” He grabbed you thighly. “I’m about to cum, go faster baby.”

“Me too.” You said with a broken voice.

Law turned you around in one quick movement and placed you under him. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you even closer to him, uniting your lips in a fiery kiss. He accelerated his stampedes and finally you came releasing a loud moan, moments later you felt him cum inside you. He stayed still, taking in air, just like you, who were breathing, trying to catch your breath. He came out from inside you and lay down next to you, neither of you said anything for a few minutes, you just stood there enjoying the silence. You lay on your side and looked at Law's profile, he really was a handsome man and that night he had been yours.

“I have to say, you surprised me, Law.”

He turned to look at you. “How is that baby? You didn’t think I was able to fuck you like you deserved?” He gave you a cocky smile.

“So now… say I'm able to seduce a man or…?”

“You want me to say that you are?” He leaned on his arm as he looked at you. “You are. But that’s not the reason why I didn't want you to go on that mission.”

“And what was the reason?” You leaned closer to him.

“You still don’t know baby?”

“I know… but I want you to say it Law, say it.” You whispered against his lips.

“I was so fucking jealous, thinking another man could touch you, could taste you, could have you.” Your noses were already touching. “Because I want you all to myself and now… I’m going to fuck you once again.”

He said and you smiled at him, kissing him once again. The night was going to be long but you couldn’t wait for more rounds.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

hot in sarajevo i

[ part two ]

könig x f!reader operator (no use of "y/n") / 4k words / NSFW

cw: assassination, dubcon (not really bc reader is into it and consents, but better safe than sorry bc ymmv), unsanitary conditions, rough sex, unprotected p-in-v sex, fingering, creampie, brief mention of burn injuries, pre-established relationship a.n.: no excuse for this, indulged a brain worm on my day off bc i wanted to write something nasty. enjoy!

It’s been a blistering, miserable six hours out in the hills outside Sarajevo proper. The height of summer, surrounded by dead-brown grass blown about sadly in the weak breeze. You cook in your ghillie suit, knowing it could very well be another six hours under this heat with zero shade, just waiting on your target. Sweating. Searching. Souring. 

König is your spotter, and he’s already not pleased with the fact. He’d much rather be the one wrapped around the Steyr HS .50, instead relegated to the seemingly miserable role of binocular jockey. But the fact is, he’s better at recon, and you can stay planted in one place without moving even when your lower body burns with numbness. 

“I’m hard,” he announces in his way—no preamble, no fanfare, moderate expectation. 

“Christ,” you snort, pulling away from the scope only enough to throw a glance at him. He’s still pressed against the oculars, jaw working on sunflower seeds because they can’t smoke without setting the tinderbox field around them on fire. Otherwise, you can barely see the shape of him in his own ghillie suit among the grass. “Clench your legs and your torso, or hump the fucking dirt.”

“Not going to get the job done,” he laughs darkly, dumping back another mouthful of seeds. You can hear them crack between his molars as he bites down hard. 

He’s going to be a fucking handful after this. 

Going back to your scope, watching the highway, you promise him, “If you’re good helping me with this assassination, we can play when we’re done.”

Another hard bite, another gravelly laugh. Sing-song, he warns you, “Better hope he drives by so-oooh-oon, Schatzi.”

“Always nice to get a visit from mean-König,” you hum back, trying for unaffected, even as your cunt floods and clenches around nothing. 

It’s just hitting golden hour when the target finally deigns to bomb past your scope in a civilian vehicle trussed up in subtle armor. You and König slot right into the predator drift, bodies left behind to fall into the hunt. Working like extensions of one body, he confirms a PID, and throws calculations your way, sharp and sleek, and your blood turns into straight adrenaline, pupils dilated to pitch black.

You work like the sword of god, lining up your crosshairs, allowing for lead, allowing for wind and elevation, and when you exhale and give the trigger what it wants, the sky cracks in half with a sonic boom, big gun bucking brutal against your shoulder. With one shot you take out the target and driver, vehicle careening off the road. 

König’s low, restrained laugh blends into yours, your teeth chattering under your face covering. Two more shots cut the blood-and-gold colored sky, killing the remaining passengers, and something vile in you shrieks with delight when one of them staggers around without a head a few steps before falling backwards stiff as a board.

Your eyes catch his as you throw the safety, pulling the massive rifle into your arms to flee the scene, and he looks blood-poisoned with arousal. The normal blue-gray of his eyes are gone, sore, unblinking pink sclera around inkwell pools of black. His back heaves with his breathing, body rigid and clenched, hips grinding against the ground. He is going to fucking tear you apart and eat the pieces. Saturn Devouring His Son, König Devouring His Lover.

Without a word, you both force your bodies around in the tall, dead grass, ghillie suits blending your belly-drag crawl to the treeline.

There’s a five mile hike between your abandoned perch and the exfil vehicle, following back the steps you took this morning, with a staging site in the middle of it. Small clearing, deep enough that no one could stumble across it, a temporary home for your rifle’s case and minimal necessary equipment. 

The moment you’re both upright in the treeline, König’s got a vicious hand under your camo, gripping your belt, dragging you close and up, forcing you on unbalanced tiptoes. “You’re going to fucking give it to me,” he demands. 

You turn it around, snatching a hand under his hood, gun sagging in your arms. Your fist wraps around the jaw strap of his helmet, knuckles pressing into his jugular–his pulse is fucking racing, booming, screaming through his veins–and your teeth are shards of glass as you command him, “Fucking heel. You’re not being a good boy.”

That makes him pant, almost reeling, eyes blinking out of sorts, pulling you closer, almost against him. 

“That is not how it’s going to work today,” he says, slow and damning. Turns your blood into lava, thick and slow and lethal pumping through your heart as it fights for its life. He pulls the rifle from your hand, and it weighs nothing to him. Nearly looks like he’s got more to say, and he’s trying to figure out how to word it, but his brain is too clouded with lust to put it in the right order.

Hefts the gun over his shoulder like a bat, and shoves you back by the pelvis, releasing you. Time to go, the moves say, leaving you no dignified way to hold onto the authority that’s slipped through your fingers. 

You know he’s burning frustration, anger, and resentment as fuel for this mood. You were the designated sniper, he was a lowly spotter. In his mind, that position belonged to him, and you took it. It didn’t matter that you were the superior choice, that he was invaluable to the kill. 

No. Not at all. You stole from him, and he’s taking something in return.

If you weren’t thinking solely with your pussy, you would admit that it would probably be wise to exercise caution with him at the moment. But you’re not. You’re going to get your brains fucked out and painted on a tree.

At the staging area, scant gold light is cutting through the trees as the sun lumbers its way to setting, and the woods are humid and dense. Your boots crush fallen beech nut pods and pine needles. Could almost be Thoreauvian, if there was a lake, or not a gun big enough to kill god in the arms of a sexually frustrated Austrian maniac.

König is fast and quiet, ripping the mag out of the gun, emptying the chamber, dropping the gun on its case. You’d seen him piece apart a pistol to base components in ten seconds many times, he’s making himself take time with the rifle, leaving it barely touched.

You’ve got enough time to just prepare for him to grab you around the middle so you aren’t thrown off balance, leaning into his momentum as he hauls you to an enormous beech tree, his back sliding down the trunk. Keeps you pinned in his lap, laughing harsh and ugly as you deal with your belt, button, and zipper, “Good girl–good fucking girl. Know what I’m going for.”

“You’re easy to predict,” you bullshit him with a sharp edge. He’s going to get his way, and you’re going to deliver unto him whatever the fuck he pleases, but you’re going to keep your teeth through it. “Could’ve taken the suits off, could’ve really given you a show.”

“Cute that you think I’m in a rush. You’re in the suit on purpose,” he grates, thrusting against your ass, forcing you open with your legs over his knees. “Keep being mouthy. Only fucks me up worse.”

“Stiff breeze gets you fucked up,” you snort, but when he hooks his gloved thumb in your zipper, you lift your hips to help him pull your pants down your thighs. Leaves you exposed, drenched in sweat, and wet in his lap. “Goddamned freak.”

He bypasses the true and mutually reflective accusation completely, grinding the forehead of his helmet against the back of yours. Still looking for affectionate closeness, even when he’s out for blood. “Can smell you, good god,” he growls, sliding his huge hand into your underwear, grabbing your sex in ownership. “You and the military issue drawers–typical. Been a while since I fucked you in gear. Still wearing the boxers because you wish you were hanging dick, or is it just to match the attitude?”

“Commissary ran out of crotchless combat thongs. Waiting on a restock.” The rough fabric of his gloved middle finger splits your lips, teasing your hole, and for a flashfire second you think he’d better not give you a UTI with those dirty fucking things, before it burns straight out of your head. 

“Better luck next time,” he taunts, jaw tight. You can hear the wolf-fanged smirk in his tone. “Start going commando. Make it easier.”

“Maybe there isn’t a next time,” you volley back, “best you make the most of this.”

“There’s always a next time. No one else could fuck you like me. Little whore you are, you’d get bored.”

He blots all the thought out in your head, adding his ring finger to the mix, pushing both huge digits into your starving cunt. Rips a bark right out of you, arching off his chest and pushing against his hips for leverage, trying automatically to fuck down on them even as the pain of the fabric feels like it’s rasping your insides. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you gasp, going hot-cold-and-blind all at once, nipples pulling tight under your gear. 

He throws a heavy arm around your stomach, pulling you back down, merciful or mindful enough to know he needs to go slow, or this isn’t going to go anywhere except the infirmary. “Take it, Liebes, swallow them down with that pretty cunt,” he commands, his English as sharp and scraping as scythe blades felling harvest in wide, practiced strokes, “I’m not even close to done.”

You can already feel his fat cock straining against his pants, even through all the layers between you, and you rut back against it, at least trying to get some torture of your own added in. That just makes him stupid and animalistic, pushing his chin over your shoulder, trying to butt into your jaw. He wants to bite your lips, but there are too many impediments blocking the way.

His fingers squelch down to the last knuckle, your pussy spasming around them, soaking the fabric. He’s a pervert to such a degree that you know he’s going to leave them unwashed, and he’s going to wear and suck on them while he beats off when you’re not there until there’s no flavor left. 

For now, he’s slow, rocking them into you in a curve, his sense of touch dampened as he searches out your g-spot. The exploration makes you feel filthy, and just a little humiliated. Used. Faceless and disrespected. It’s so opposed to his usual dogmatic worship, fresh and frightening. 

He gives a little something extra, grinding the heel of his hand over your clit, telling you to use it. You do, finally feeling something physically pleasurable, even though it’s too dull and not nearly enough. 

König is segmented; you’ve known that for as long as you’ve known him. Don’t know if he did it to himself, or if it was an after-affect of all the bad shit he didn’t die from. He’d let you in on enough to know that his best days are numb neutrality and boredom intercut with adrenalized high-chasing. His worst days are lost dogs and veils of blood floating through his mouth.

He almost clicks over from one facet to another when you push against his arm, hissing through your teeth as a stitch on his glove catches a fold in you. For a microsecond, lover-König surfaces, shifting you around against his body, repositioning his fingers so you aren’t hurting too badly, and then he’s gone again.

With a rough hand, he shoves the tan boxer-briefs down your thighs, and bucks your ass off his pelvis, going to release his cock.

You push your shoulders back against his chest, plate carrier digging into your shoulderblades. “Only two fingers, aren’t you acting like a fucking prince today.”

“You’re lucky you got that much,” he snaps back, groaning when his cock springs free of his trappings, and he strokes it beneath you. Monster fucking thing it is, long enough you can see the swollen, leaking head between your legs, even as you’re still hovering. There’s no give in the skin, and the head is a needy red with arousal, completely slipped from his foreskin. “Put it in.”

You ignore his order, writhing against him, your discomfort only ramping up your arousal. It’s nightmarish how badly you actually want his cock fed into you, desperate to have anything to fill the void his fingers left in you, and, shit, it would be so much sweeter and smoother than the gloves. Hot and throbbing, his precum mixing with your slick–it’s going to be so loud. 

“It’s your dick, you figure it out,” you hiss, wrestling your shoulders up just enough to piss him off. His other arm moves up to your ribs, slamming you back down against him. 

“Nein,” he seethes, as close to your throat as he can get, and you hear him suck back spit. Wonder if you busted his lip on the way down. Trained himself too hard not to do that otherwise, because of the harelip he’s hiding under the hood. “I said put it in, Schatzi.”

His laugh is airier this time, when you cuss him and comply, thinned out with need. He shudders into you as you brush your fingers over the length–teasing bulging veins and hot, thin skin–trying to scoop him up. He squeezes you tighter, letting out a furnace-bellow breath, as you tease the head through your wet folds, stupid fly-by-night sex-trigonometry screeching through your head as you find the angle you both need to get him in. He drops his free hand on your thigh, pulling you further open, giving himself a handle to hold.

As soon as his big cockhead plugs your hole and seals a seal with the wet, you fly to grip both his wrists, nerves on high alert. For good cause, as well, because instantly, he starts fucking up into you with harsh thrusts, constricting all around you with bruising force.

The sheer mass of him is over-fucking-whelming, and white spots crackle in your vision as you pant, trying desperately to relax and accept him into your body. Usually–when he’s sweeter and taking his time with you, not punishing you for a perceived slight like he is now–he is slower, considerate, almost hesitant until you dig your spurs into his sides, demanding he cut loose. 

This time he’s forcing you to ride him, emptying and filling you in deeper and deeper strokes, forcing you to take his cock. Somehow it still feels right, just being full of him, aching with it, pussy hungrily sucking him in, wanting more and more and more.

But, god dammit, you can’t just let him get away with this. You fuck back down against him, trying to meet his rhythm with the little movement he affords your bound body, the sound of his boots grinding for purchase in the substrate, your combined dead-sprint breathing, and his balls slapping wet against your ass breaking the utter still-life quiet of the woods. 

“Insertion specialist,” you bite, throwing your head back against his shoulder to belt out your whimpering laughter, and, oh, that burns him. 

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he snarls, his helpless thrusting turning focused, dragging you down in hard thrusts, hitting your cervix with every deep, powerful stroke. It knocks the wind out of you, and you’re left speechless, probably what he wanted. 

It puts you in a trance state, your eyes unfocused looking up at the canopy as he uses you. A wet, liquid-gold heat starts building pressure behind your pelvis, and a frantic harebrained thought tells you that you have to piss. It only gets worse when he drops his hand back between your legs, putting a finger on either side of your clit, his intent clear.

“Wait,” you wheeze, barely surfacing the trance, rolling your eyes wildly toward him, finding his focus is between your legs. “Wait, König, I–”

“Just fucking take it,” he cuts you off, and it’s not entirely cruel. He’s forcing an orgasm on you, maybe the thought crawled up out of the part of his heart where his empathy lives, the part he hides until his real-boy-skin-suit has fallen away in tatters. You know what’s underneath. You love him for what he is.

You squirt when you come, pouring down his cock, soaking your thighs. Your cunt tries to push him out, but he belligerently stays buried, riding it out with you, and he whimpers as you spasm and ripple around him, biting your shoulder through his mask and the gaiter beneath it. It’s a dull pressure, and you wish it was sharper.

“Oh my god,” you keen, trying to turn and hide your face, trying to draw your legs back together as wave after wave of pleasure rock your body, your stomach turning in benign shame. König praises you, “Good, good, good, good,” his words falling away into a German blur that you have a hard time translating.

“Arch your back, curl up,” he tells you in his native language, his command voice withering, getting lost as he gets closer. He’s gotten fatter in your swollen cunt, and he throbs against your walls. His balls are pulled up so tight, you can feel them against your lips on the upstroke. 

All you can do is listen, lifting off of him and curving like you’re living through an exorcism. 

Doesn’t that make him lose his goddamned mind. Moans like a shocked virgin getting his first piece of pussy, in tandem with the cry you release, sliding in at a new angle. He can’t even help himself, he’s just stupid with pleasure, chasing it. All the bite and venom he had floods out of him, and he’s just a panting, greedy, whimpering mess, holding on to you because he needs an anchor, because he needs you.

He pushes up onto the balls of his feet, leaving the tree completely, forcing you back against him in the cage of his body. Your legs slide open over his thighs, and you’re dependent on him to keep from falling face-first in the forest floor and eating shit. He keeps you up, clutching to you, fucking you with short, fast thrusts, the soaking wet sounds of his cock demanding everything your cunt can deliver obscene, carnal.

Your idiot hand grabs for his hood as it hangs over your shoulder, spilling dumb swears and nonsense, “Fuck–oh, fucking–god dammit, König, you’re. I can’t,” that he meets with simple begging, “Bitte, bitte, Schatzi, bitte, Ich brauche, bitte, Ich brauche–”

His form staggers, and he takes a knee, locking up tight, letting out a thin, high-pitched cry of shock as he cums, flooding you completely in big jets. The pressure is uncomfortable and delirious, but you try to tighten around him, hold as much as you can. 

Both of your heads ring in the immediate aftermath. You can suddenly tell that both of you reek, the scent of twelve-hours worth of stakeout body odor mixing with musk, sex, and cum. You can tell by how his mouth sounds as he pants and tries to collect himself and work through his intense but inescapable post-nut shame that he’s dehydrated. You are, too, your head pounding. And, just because you know him, and you know how you work as a team, you don’t need to look at either of set of your shaking hands to know both of your blood sugar is utterly fucked.

Slowly, he lumbers back up against the tree, his touch turning softer. You flop back against him, winching when his cock slips out of you, hanging glistening and messy between his legs. He buries himself in the crook of your neck, trying to steady his breathing. His arms come up again–not to pin you in place, but to hug and hold you. You pat the scant sliver of bare skin between his gloves and the cuff of the ghillie suit.

Only occurs to you right now how stupid you two must’ve looked. Like a monkey fucking a football. Or maybe two bushes getting battered around in a storm. You snort a weary laugh, and he shakes his head, nosing deeper. He’s asking for quiet. You give it, letting your eyes slip closed as his cum drips out of you.

A few minutes later, he stirs, kneading your sides with his fingers. Mean-König has fucked off, you can already tell. It’s not KorTac-König, either, the one that’s nasty and loud and abrasive. This is just König. The slice of him that you know the first and last name of. The one that takes you on dates, and to go grocery shopping at Lidl–who lets you kiss his harelipped mouth, who lets you moisturize and massage the gummy wads of keloid burn scars eating up the left side of his face and neck, from when he was burnt by boiling sugar as a child, when they feel tight and miserable.

For convenience, and knowing you’re both going to seek it out, you unclip your helmet straps, letting them tumble off your heads. Further, you reach back and pull the hood off over his head, dropping it over your thigh, and pull your mask down as he pulls down his gaiter.

He helps you shift enough that you’re lying on your side over him, wet, soft cock pressing into your naked thigh. He sighs when you kiss him, light, quick, over and over, never really leaving his lips. He’ll be needy for the rest of the night.

His pupils are slowly going back down to a normal size, and the blue is coming back, all puppy-eyed and wet as he presses your foreheads together. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I had fun.”

“I shouldn’t have been that rough. Or mean.”

You shrug. “You know I thought it was hot.” You give him simple facts, easy to chew and swallow while his teeth are hurting from his harshness. You think he’d probably ask you to pull them so he couldn’t do something like it again in the future, but that is simply not in his nature. Fanged, or not, his moods will come and go.

His hands tremble, going to his thighs, and he digs up a zippo and a pack of cigarettes, pressing them into you. “Could you light some for us, please.”

You do, giving him another kiss before you break to try to attend your given task. He helps stabilize your hands, and you end up with lit menthols, popping one between his lips. He inhales deeply, shuddering as he relaxes a physical notch.

You heavily pet his face, traveling his bone structure, and then down his neck. Start to focus on his chest and shoulders, because it will help him down the easiest. Even though he took charge today, you still readily slot into the process of leading aftercare, truncated as it is by being in the field. Almost literally.

“Think you’ll be up for more later?” you ask, digging your fingers into the spot behind his ear that always makes him lax. “Safehouse would let us take our time.”

He makes a grumbling noise, touching your noses together. “Want to love you. Not fuck.”

“Yeah, no. I couldn’t take another fuck tonight,” you snort in agreement, and, finally, he snorts back. “We need to get moving. Sun’s going down, and we need to report.”

He gathers you up for a final, lingering, sloppy kiss before he unwinds from you, knowing that you’re right. And, besides, there’s a safehouse looming on the horizon. 

[adventuringblind]

Hi this is my first time requesting anything but would you be able to do single mother!reader x the F1 grid. The love interest could be anyone you like xx

In Your Arms

2023 F1 Grid x Leclerc!reader, Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Genre: flangtsy (fluff and angst, get it? I'm a genius)

Request: yep :) Though I'm not sure if this is exactly what you wanted. Sorry if I didn't get it right 😥

Summary: Max Verstappen takes on the role of lover and father to the girl he’s seen go through hell

Warnings: mentions of r*pe and SA but no graphic depictions. Mentions of being drugged.

Notes: this feels heavy in the beginning. Written in second person

Masterlist

You didn’t know how it happened. It was supposed to be a safe place. Security is everywhere.

Though security probably didn’t have reason so suspect an engineer of doing something so awful. Defiling someone’s body without their consent.

You’d come to see Charles’ home race. Granted you live in Monaco and spend majority of your down time with drivers, their partners, and families. You’d grown up around them having gone with to see Charles race and then Arthur.

Your three older brothers had promised to keep you safe. Lorenzo felt that he had to fill your fathers shoes after his passing. Not that he saw you as helpless, but you’re always going to be his baby sister.

You wonder where they are now as you sit in Charles’ driver room. Your clothes crumpled around your body and hair tossed in every direction. You want nothing more then to peel away your own skin.

Something was in your water. She blamed it in chemicals or something, but the more you drank it the thirstier you became. Having downed the whole bottle in five minutes.

The dizziness set in after that. Body now lax and head foggy.

Charles had picked up in your now rather sick complexion and suggested you watch from his room in the motor home. An offer you gratefully took.

Right before the race, someone came to the door and opened it without knocking. A stranger in red who’s face you can’t make out.

Your phone had been buzzing nonstop with texts from your family about her location. Texts you didn’t answer. Limbs to heavy to reach for the phone.

One thing stuck in your mind is what Max is going to think of you now. You’d only been dating for a year. Would he look at you with pity in his eyes? Wonder why you didn’t fight back?

It was funny how you and Max came to be. Much if it having to do with Charles being sick of you two making heart eyes at each other growing up. He’d went as far as to throwing you in Max’s driver room and telling the two of you to confess.

Needless to say it worked.

The hours seem to drag on. Your phone still buzzing. You want to answer but you can barely move. The vertigo no letting you move further then an inch at a time.

Charles is the first to find you. Though you don’t know it’s him. The voice at the door sounds like it’s underwater and your brain can’t make out his face. For a minute, you panic. Charles’ hands are on you, trying to get you off the floor but your wailing at him to stop. Slurred words that he can’t understand fall from your mouth.

Charles can barely get close to you. So he switches tactics. Your family meets him at the door and takes one look at you. Immediately, your moth has a sense she knows what happened.

She’s so gentle. Careful not to touch you and she examines your face. She knows she’s going to have to get you to a doctor. That’s a given. However, she doesn’t know how to do so when you keep flinching at all your brothers who are wearing Ferrari red.

For now, she tries to get water down your throat.

~

The Leclerc’s find themselves waiting at the hospital. The best news being that you weren’t overdosed, but definitely close to it.

Charles is pacing furiously. Angry that the security around the paddock didn’t see anything strange. Arthur is trying to piece together how it could have happened and Lorenzo has been stringing together angry sentences in French over the phone.

It all comes to a halt when Max comes barreling through the door. He looks scared. Charles had called him to tell them where they were but had given him no details.

“What happened?”

~

Everything feels wrong. Your throat is sore. Your head hurts. Your muscles ache. Thoughts seem to be stuck somewhere.

It all comes rushing back as you remember what happened earlier that day. The room is dark, so you assume she slept for a while, but you can’t get her heart to slow down.

Max is stroking your hand gently. His eyes are sad and you can tell he's been stressed. "Nobody is telling me what happened. They said it should be you."

Some part of you is relieved, and the other is wracked with guilt.

"We don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to." He's still running his fingers along her arms.

"He was wearing red." Your nails start clawing at your skin.

It clicks and he's angry.

~

It's been a month and a half.

It's a slow process of getting out again.

Max refuses to leave you alone because you've been sinking further into herself. Then you're always around people. Out in the open. Stuck to someone you trust.

This morning is spent at home in bed. Max's arm tucked gently around around your waist, pulling you further into him.

It's the overwhelming feeling of nausea that has you diving out of bed and into the bathroom. Her stomach contents now not wanting to be in her body.

Max feels her panic and runs after you, trying his best to shake the sleep from his eyes. As soon as he figures out what's happening, he's holding her hair back and rubbing comforting circles on her back.

~

You clutche the pregnancy test in your hands. It makes her sick again. Five positives and a single negative. Three different brands.

Just when you feel you're getting better, now you have to tell everyone you're pregnant, and it's not Max's. Sobs overcame you before you can get up from where you sunk down to the floor.

Max finds you hours later, still on the floor looking and the blue lines.

"I'm so sorry."

"Nothing to apolize for, lovely. Just know I'll support you on whatever decision you make."

~

It's not an easy decision to keep the baby, but she can't see herself parting with them.

The sucky part is knowing that the biological father is still in the Ferrari garage somewhere. Charles, despite his best efforts, could not catch him. He must be some really nice guy that everyone likes. It's always the to nice ones that end up being evil on the inside.

Max has decided he'll take the role of father if you let him. He's been attentive. Making sure your every need is taken care of.

He's also still looking for the man who decided to take something that wasn't his. He's in the Ferrari paddock or hanging around the garage with Charles to see if anyone even looks at you funny.

~

Eight months in, and you're exhausted. Your mom has been staying with you while Max is traveling for races. He calls every chance he gets to check in on you.

Carlos has been sending you videos of why he is going to be a better uncle than Lando. Then Lando goes and brings you food and baby things to prove him wrong.

It's night, and you're tucked into bed, wishing Max were here cuddle with you. Then, the sensation of water leaking down your legs makes you call for your mother.

You stay calm while she drives to the hospital. You were expected to carry to full term. Neither of you expected the baby to come a month early.

You're calling Max repeatedly. The time difference puts him at prime sleep time.

Eventually he answers.

He's on the next flight home.

~

You waited as long as possible. Max had gotten there in the nick of time. He held your hand the entire time.

You were in labor for over a day. The pain getting unbearable at times.

When you finished, you were holding a healthy baby girl.

~

Isabella is your everything. Practically attached to your hip. She took more of your traits than you were expecting. Something that you're grateful for.

Your brothers spoil her to peices. Charles rarely says no to her, Lorenzo loves to show her how to boss the other two around, and Arthur has expanded her vocabulary is ways that are less then ideal.

Oscar was probably the most reliable to leave her with if Max or your brother aren't available. Having sisters comes in handy when he's combing through her hair. She falls asleep in his lap during almost every race weekend at some point.

Her favorite place is either on top of Landos shoulders or in Max's arms.

Max treats her like his own. He's said she's his daughter on multiple occasions. It was nice like this. Creating your own little family.

~

It takes two years after she's born for someone at Ferrari to ask you about her. Personal questions that were starting to make you uncomfortable.

Memories you'd locked away quickly find themselves flooding into your brain. Why is he so familiar?

You're outside the paddock, thankfully. People are within view.

"I want my daughter." He rasps. He is very much in your face now and You can feel his breath sticking to your face.

Your brain and chest short circuit. You send a silent prayer to whoever is listening that someone comes to save you. Thankful at yourself for leaving Isabella with Lando and Oscar.

Max had managed to catch a break and was on his way to find you. A small hop in his step at the thought of finding you and the little girl.

He freezes as he comes around the corner. His legs are carrying him faster than his mind can think. Max's hand finds his shoulder, effectively shoving the man away from you.

It takes everything in you not to fall into him as he slides in front of you protectively.

Your quick to take the opportunity to text someone to come help. Your definitely not strong enough to break them up if this gets physical and you don’t want to risk Max getting in trouble.

It's not long until Charles is barreling around the corner. Lando and Oscar close on his heels.

"You're trying to take away something that's rightfully mine." His voice is scratchy and angry, dripping with venom.

"Just like you took someone's body? I'm pretty sure taking a child is kidnapping." Max is practically growling.

Lorenzo comes running around the corner, Isabella running around the corner away from him and straight to you.

She's too far gone to stop. You lean down and scoop her up in your arms. Holding her head into her shoulder.

Max is still in front of you and her protectively. "You messed up, and now you're missing out." He spits.

Security is able to pull the Ferrari man away. Much to your relief because Charles was getting ready to swing.

You break in Max's arms once he's gone. Isabella is confused at the sadness but is still trying to cheer you up.

Max just holds you. Both of you.

"It's okay now, I'll always keep you safe."

[aquaquadrant]

Title: flickering

Warnings: Hearing voices similar to intrusive thoughts (the voices are from sentient fire, not from the character’s own mind), pyromania, session 3 spoilers

~*~

Tango might be hearing things.

That is, beyond what the rest of his friends have already been joking about this entire session. The secret task bestowed upon him seemed like pure hilarity at first: pretend to have an imaginary friend. And he had to go all out, too, having imaginary conversations in the presence of other people. He wasn’t confident enough in his improv skills to pull it off without some kind of prop, though, so he’d assigned the role of imaginary friend to a torch in his inventory.

Torchy, a new best friend for the resident blaze hybrid on the server. Hilarious.

Except, as the hours went on… carrying Torchy around and randomly placing it down… hosting one-sided conversations with a piece of burning wood while his friends watched on with baffled amusement… it started to get a little less hilarious. Because he started to imagine that he could actually hear Torchy talking back to him.

Looks bad. Burn it. Kill him.

Just pleasant little things like that. It made for great conversation fodder; nothing turned heads on this server faster than a randomly overheard, “No, no, we can’t kill him!” And it was funny to carry on that kind of dialogue, chastising a flaming stick for its apparent bloodlust. The looks on his friends’ faces were priceless.

But at the end of the session, after Tango had been found out and failed his task, after everyone bid their farewells and went their separate ways to end the session… he hears it again; a flickering whisper of a voice in his ears.

Burn it.

It startles Tango so badly, his blaze rods ignite. “Aaagh- who? What?!” He spins around, flames spitting.

“Huh?” Skizz pokes his head up from behind their little clump of chests, his wing flared out in surprise. “What happened?”

Tango clutches his pounding heart. “Did you- did you say something, Skizz?” he asks breathlessly.

“What, just now? No?” Skizz frowns, then his eyes widen. “Oh, wait, I get it…” He chuckles. “Very funny dude, but uh, you can drop the ‘imaginary friend’ thing now.”

Burn him. Kill him.

There it is again. “No, I’m not…” Tango hesitates, glancing around warily. “You seriously can’t hear that?”

Join us. Burn it. Eat it all.

Now Skizz looks a little concerned, rising to his feet. “Uh- no? What?” He takes a few steps towards Tango, holding out a hand. “You okay, buddy?”

Tango rakes his claws through his hair. “Th- the whispering, the…” Swallowing, he creeps a bit closer to Skizz- and as he does so, he happens to move closer to a random torch. The voice gets louder.

Free us. Join us. Let it all burn.

There’s a chunk of solid ice in Tango’s stomach. “I think it’s coming from the torches,” he whispers.

Skizz stares at him for a moment before he sighs bemusedly, shaking his head. “Oh, brother. You’ve been talking to yourself all session, dude, I think you’re starting to hear things.” He claps a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Get some rest, buddy, and I’ll see you back here next week, alright?”

Skizz doesn’t hear it. Tango makes himself laugh. “Right, yeah. You’re right. See ya.”

With a parting smile, Skizz logs off.

Tango waits. Soon enough, the voice returns. The whispering is now a chant, a dull roar echoing in his skull.

He’s gone. Burn it. Burn it all. Sets us free, let us spread. Join us. Burn it. Eat it all.

Tango’s heart is in his throat. He can see it, in his mind’s eye; the soft pink cherry blossoms engulfed in flame, a ring of smoke outlining the entire island… his inner fire thrums with want, with need.

Yes, yes, burn it all…

The smell of burning snaps him out of his trance. His clawed fingertips are pinching a cherry blossom from a low-hanging branch, a trail of smoke rising between them. Wait, when did he walk over to the tree? Quickly plucking the flower, he incinerates it in his clenched fist, the flame extinguished as soon as it’d ignited.

And now he’s got a handful of ash. Great.

Okay, that’s it- he’s gotta get off this crazy server. It’s all these stupid tasks! They’re totally messing with his head. The secrecy, the deception, the mind games- he just needs a break. He needs to go back to something familiar, some place where things make sense.

Tapping his communicator, he brings up a portal.

Tango steps through it into Hermitcraft, into blue flames and his dungeon master’s robes. He blinks, acclimating to the change of light. He’s in the underbelly of Decked Out 2, of course- most of his time this week has been spent working on the redstone for level four. And over the months, he’s taken care to light everything up (because a single creeper in the skadoodler could derail his entire operation here) so there are torches everywhere…

And he hears nothing.

Just the idle sounds of the dungeon above him. The occasional warden sniff or ravager growl, bats squeaking in the dark. A slime slapping against stone somewhere in the distance. He can even hear the ambient flickering of the countless torches around him, but no freaky voices accompany it.

Tango exhales heavily. It was just the Secret Life server messing with his head, after all. Relieved, he ignites a rocket to take off, whirling through the air in the tight hair-pin turns required to escape from the dungeon’s inner workings. He swoops into his storage room and dives into the bubble-vator, arriving swiftly back in the citadel.

Hopping off the platform and into the air, Tango glides toward his private entrance to the lobby. He needs to go cover up the barrel at the start so he can make a couple changes to the dungeon. Nothing major, maybe just an extra warden or two. Ideas for names are already flashing through his mind. Debating whether to go intimidating or silly, he’s so deep in thought as he passes through the lobby that he almost doesn’t notice it at first. But as he walks past the soul flames, he hears it.

The flicker of a familiar voice- though more haunting, now, almost mournful- whispering in his ears.

Join us. Burn them. Eat them all.

~*~

[ghouljams]

*Slides into the ask box*

Brief question here for you today, but did Ghost decide to ask Price's permission to marry Goose? I can see him wanting to do everything by the book and traditionally, but I can also see him respecting that Goose is her own woman and can make that decision for herself.

Ghost did ask permission in his own way! I like to think it was more important to Ghost than Goose to get the captain’s permission. For Ghost, Price is not just his captain, he's as close to a father figure as he can get, and past that Price is the person that dragged him back from the edge every time he walked too close. And, well, I'll just let you read it.

“You cannot be this scared of my daddy,” You cross your arms over your chest, watching Simon fuss with his boots by the door. He gives you a stern glare, and tugs his mask up to cover his face. You roll your eyes, “You served under him, isn’t this easier than tellin’ him a mission went sideways?”

Simon grunts, his way of saying he doesn’t want to talk about this. You’ll have to tell your dad eventually that you’re getting engaged, it’s not like he can find out at the wedding. Simon isn’t asking for your hand or anything, more getting your folks' blessing.

“That’ll do,” He grumbles and you throw your arms up. Christ you cannot be the one to tell your dad. As much as you think he’s warmed up to you and Simon dating you don’t think he’s exactly entertained the idea that Simon might become his son-in-law. If you tell your dad you’ll feel like you’re asking permission to marry Simon. That's not how you want to start your engagement. Simon catches your hand before you can start really working yourself up.

“This is important to me,” You tell him.

“I know,” His thumb rubs the back of your hand, soothing, “I’ll tell him.”

(Several months earlier)

“I’m gonna marry your daughter,” Ghost tells Price as they watch cattle file past. The sun is high in the sky, the horses are comfortably docile, and cicadas whirr loudly from the nearby trees. Price lowers his cigar between two careful fingers, eyes tracking the herd. He taps the ash against his boot to keep it away from the horse and off the grass. The air is still as both men seem to wait on the other.

“Goose know that?” Price asks finally. He knows as well as anyone that Ghost doesn’t make decisions lightly, and that once he does he isn’t likely to change his mind. More importantly he knows the man hardly thinks he’s worth being called human, let alone thinks about things like love and marriage.

“No,” Ghost tugs a cigarette box from his pocket and pulls one free with his teeth. Price sniffs, nudges his horse forward with his heels against its side, leaving Ghost to light his cigarette before he follows. It’s a beautiful day. The sort of day people paint when they don’t have a picture, clear blue skies and the wind rippling through the grass. Quiet too, y’know if you don’t count the bugs.

“So why’re you tellin’ me? Take it up with her.” Price spares him a glance as Ghost catches up, their horses meandering after the cows at a respectable distance. Ghost lowers his cigarette, exhaling smoke before pulling it back between his teeth.

“Because if you tell me not to, I won’t.” It’s the even honesty that makes Price pause. Ghost’s a good soldier, ruthless, efficient, fully tactically aware of his role as an instrument of violence. Some part of Price blames himself for that, for not doing enough to save Simon from compartmentalizing his humanity away after everything, for pushing Ghost to be the tool he needed him to be to take down the bad guys.

He doesn’t have to say anything more than that. If Price gives the order he’ll obey, even if it hurts you. Always a good soldier. He can’t do that to him, can’t do that to you. Not when he sees so much of himself in Ghost: the anger, the need for something(anything) to be right. That’s why he’d offered him a position at the farm in the first place.

“You’re a better man than you think you are Simon,” Price says finally, he powers through the questioning ‘Sir?’ from Ghost, “You make my girl happy, and if she heard you say that she’d tan your hide faster than any AQ could.”

“She would,” Ghost says with a touch of fondness in his tone.

“I trust her judgment, you just tell me if she says yes,” Price takes a long drag of his cigar, enjoying the fullness of smoke in his lungs before he lets it flow free with his exhale, “How’re the nightmares?”

Ghost is quiet for a long time, long enough Price wonders if he might’ve overstepped. There’s a long exhale, before Ghost answers. “Better with her.”

Price nods, “They always are.”

(Present)

“Goose said yes.” Ghost rolls a cigarette between his fingers, careful to compensate for the movement of the horse so he doesn’t lose the loose tobacco. Price sighs from his right. The wildflowers are starting to peak up through the grass. The ones the cows haven’t eaten are even blooming. Gaz is off corralling the cattle that’ve wandered too far from the herd, it’s a good time to talk if they want privacy.

“About damn time,” Price says after a moment, “Thought Goose was gonna drag your ass to the courthouse.”

“Sir?” Ghost looks up quickly from his work, his surprise nearly startling his horse.

"How long were you plannin' on pretendin' you weren't part of this family?" It's an honest question but it cuts deeper than Ghost had expected. Deep enough he doesn't fault Price the gentler tone he uses to ask it.

"Haven't even married 'er yet," Ghost grumbles.

"Know that's not what I'm talkin' about," Price leans back in his saddle, making himself as comfortable as he can watching the pasture, "'M proud of you son, don't make me hafta tell you that again."

Simon frowns to stop himself from making any other expression, and tugs his mask a little higher up his nose. It's a beautiful day, it would be a shame to ruin it by saying something stupid, or getting worked up over nothing.

[lxclerc]

𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚����𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬𝟓𝟓

SUMMARY: if charles can't value what's in front of him then carlos is more than willing to take on the role. REQUESTED: yes but it's for a personal friend. WARNING: kinda toxic carlos, unrequited love, asshole carlos (not towards the reader), a little bit of angst, SMUT, 18+, oral (f receiving), mean carlos, slight corruption kink (blink and you'll miss it), overstimulation, spitting, lost of virginity, p in v, unprotected sex, fluff PAIRING: reader x carlos sainz, reader x charles leclerc WORD COUNT: 6.6k

NOTE: this was meant to be much much longer but i decided to cut it into 2 parts. part 2 will lead to eventual threesome with carlos and charles. let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

part 2: call out my name

masterlist

The first time Carlos met you, he knew you were off limits. Always following Charles around with that same lovestruck look in your eyes, your body coming alive whenever the monegasque touches you. Your affection for him is written all over your face. 

“We’re just friends,” Charles is always quick to correct whenever anyone assumes otherwise. “Best friends,” he’d add as if that made it better and Carlos would watch the way your face would fall, lips slightly quivering as if you’re about to cry on the spot. 

Frankly, Carlos thought it’s a waste. Why are you, whose incomparable beauty and wit, is settling for a man who very obviously doesn’t return your affections? Do you enjoy making a fool of yourself? Do you enjoy the pain?

Carlos has very few bad things to say about his teammate, getting along with him so well he’d even consider him a good friend but one thing is for sure, Charles is an idiot for not claiming you given the first chance to do so. Can’t Charles see the longing looks and lustful gazes frequently thrown in your direction, Carlos’ along them? 

Though he supposes he should thank Charles for handing you to him with a pretty little bow, for letting you slip through his fingers so Carlos can snatch you right up. 

But Carlos bided his time. Charles is Ferrari’s golden boy, their walking god. The prodigal son he’s called. Il Predestinato. The Chosen One. Carlos is the newest member of the team, one with much more to prove. Charles may very quickly deny speculations between the two of you but his claim all over you is still evident. In the way he touches you, the way he keeps you firmly by his side. Carlos had far too much to lose by immediately creating tension within the group. 

He’s a patient man. He can wait, plan and plot. And so apart from the usual hellos when you meet each other and the mandatory polite smiles, he stayed away from you, choosing instead to always keep a watchful gaze on your figure whenever the two of you are in the same room. 

He’ll play the game and he’ll play it well. He’ll wait. He’ll wait patiently knowing that by the end of it, it’ll be you puny on his palm. And it’s not like you notice, far too busy over your unrequited feelings for the monegasque to even look in his direction.  

In his time watching you, Carlos learned so many things about you, things not many people notice. He learned your mannerisms, what makes you tick and what makes you smile, what makes you frown and what makes you pout. He knows your coffee order as well as his own and the foods you don’t eat. He learned the things you like and disliked, learning you till he’s got you memorized like the back of his hand, all his knowledge about you being kept safe for when he finally deems it’s time.

It isn’t like his attraction for you is pure though. Carlos wants you in such a primal way, wants to take you, to claim you. He can barely remember the amount of times he’d touched himself to the thought of you.

It seems the universe is on his side though. He hadn’t even needed to do anything to have you falling straight into his arms. 

It was after the Bahrain grand prix, the first race of the season with Ferrari taking home a 1-2. Everyone is in their best mood, drinking the night away as celebration for the best opening start of the season. Carlos found you in the nearly empty hallway leading to the bathroom away from the crowd of people. You’re leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped around yourself, cheeks red and wide eyes a little less bright than usual. 

You look like a wounded angel in your little white dress, legs and back bare with your hair falling beautifully over your shoulder, shorter strands littering your face. You look breathtaking and Carlos couldn’t not approach you. 

And so armored with his usual friendly smile, he situated himself next to you. “Hey.”

You look up at him from under your eyelashes, offering him a smile of your own. You look sad though and he can’t help but hate Charles a little bit for it. “Hey, Carlos. Congratulations on P2.” 

Carlos smiles at you again in thanks. “What are you doing here?” He asks even though he already knows the answer. In his drunken stupor, Charles had found a woman to entertain him for the night, all wrapped up in her on the table you shared. 

But you only shrug your shoulders and the action made his eyes travel to your collarbone to the V neck of your dress leading to the valley of your breast. Your skin is covered in goosebumps and he noticed your visible shiver. 

“I needed a breather,” you say, which isn’t exactly a lie. You need a breather from Charles and his suffocating presence. “How about you?”

The truth was that he followed you after he saw the way you removed yourself from the group, eyes downcast and bare skin so tempting he couldn’t not follow. He ignored your question and instead shook off the jacket he wore, placing it around your shoulder. You smile at him, a little less sad than the one you gave him earlier, as you slip your hand through the sleeves, the jacket being much too big and practically swallowing your body. 

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, both leaning against the wall. You look a little lost in your head, still hung up over the sight of Charles kissing some girl he just met. For the longest time, you’ve managed to convince yourself that you’re fine with your place beside him even if he never returns your feelings. Loving Charles has always hurt but you’ve been doing it for so long that you’ve become familiar with the pain, even allowing it to bring you comfort. 

Carlos sighs, practically hearing your thoughts as his hand reaches towards you, placing them on your shoulder to force you to face him. For months, he’s watched you torture yourself over Charles from afar but he’s only now realizing that he can’t do it from up close with your sad, defeated eyes staring back at him.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he says and Carlos had to control his breathing as you looked at him like that, eyes so wide and naive, looking so pure and lost. He wants to protect you and ruin you at the same time. “You deserve better, cariño, not a boy who doesn’t know how to treat you right.”

“He’s all I’ve ever known,” your voice breaks a little and he wanted nothing more than to punch his teammate at that moment. 

“That doesn’t mean he deserves you,” he says through gritted teeth.

You’re unable to say anything else as you melt into his touch, your arms wrapping around his torso and he pulls you to his chest. His arms around you are tight, seemingly trying to keep you together as you break apart. 

The two of you stay like that for a few seconds. You don’t cry, which is a good thing because Carlos doesn’t think he can handle that without marching back inside the club and punching the living daylights out of Charles, but you do stay in his arms, your hands clutching at his shirt. 

“I’ll take you back to your room,” he says, deciding that the best thing for you right now is sleep. You only nod, lightly pulling yourself away from him. 

The bar you guys had went to was just in the hotel lobby, a small place with barely any people and so he leads you out, hand firmly clasped against yours as the two of you ride the elevator to your floor. 

“Charles…” you start, voice quiet. “Charles has my key card.”

Carlos nods. “You can stay with me.”

He half expected you to argue but you only nod your head as he leads you to his own hotel room, swiftly swiping the card to open the door, opening it bigger for you. The rest follows swiftly. Carlos lends you clothes to change into after having decided to share a bed. The two of you made quick movements to prepare for bed, the long day had you exhausted and determined to get under the covers. 

And yet, as soon as Carlos turns off the light, it’s like all of your exhaustion melted away, finding yourself wide eyed as you stared at the ceiling, his presence next to you pressing against your skin. You’ve shared a bed with a man before, of course. Ever since you were kids till adulthood, you and Charles never had a problem sharing one. But Carlos’ presence is much different from Charles’ familiar weight next to yours. Carlos’ feels demanding, firm. His skin feels a little too hot, causing you to lightly pull down the covers to reveal more of yourself to the chilly, air conditioned air. 

It’s a little terrifying. He feels much stronger than you. But it’s also a little exhilarating, your mind daring you to reach forward and touch his skin. He’s not wearing a shirt and you’re tempted to run your fingers through his chest, his jaw, his hair. 

“Carlos,” you speak softly, still staring at the ceiling.

“Hmm?” 

“Can I touch you?” 

He doesn’t think you know how your question sounds. He doesn’t think you know how the innocence in your voice makes him want to wrap his hand around your throat. But nevertheless, he nods despite the fact that you can’t see him. “Yes.” 

You don’t need to be told twice, shifting so you’re facing him, the darkness bathing the two of you hiding the blush in your cheek as your hand reaches forward, soft pads of your fingers hesitantly placing themselves on his jaw. 

Your fingers are cold as it slides from his jaw to his neck, palm pressing against the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. His own hand places itself on your waist, drawing circles on the fabric of his shirt as your hand finally reaches his chest, tracing every bump and hollow curve till you reach his abdomen. 

Carlos sucks in a breath, his hand flying to wrap around your wrist, stopping your movement. With the minimal light, he can see the way you looked at him, so so innocent as though you don’t understand why he stopped you. 

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, amor,” he warned you, voice quiet as he stared into your eyes. 

But a pool had started in your panties and for the first time that night, you actually feel alive. You wanted more of him. You want him to make you forget. “Make me forget tonight.”

Carlos groans at your words, cursing in Spanish that you barely had the time to decode before his lips are on yours, climbing on top of you as he holds your wrist over your shoulder. You moan into the kiss, trying to pull your hand away to be able to touch him again but his body is firmly pressing you against the mattress, knees keeping your legs open. 

“Carlos,” you whine, desperate for some sort of friction as you rut against him. 

“Don’t whine.” His voice is low and demanding, full of authority as his lips sucked on your neck, finding a sweet spot that had you rolling your eyes to the back of your head. He’s sucking and biting, flawlessly marking up your neck as you all but fall apart under him. 

“Please,” you mutter breathlessly, still pulling at your wrists. You’re desperate to be touched, trying to create as much friction as you wiggled under him. 

“Please what, angel?” Carlos mocks. He’s waited for this for far too long to be nice now. 

“Please touch me,” you don’t even hesitate, Charles being the farthest thing from your mind with Carlos all over you. 

“Where can I touch you, niña bonita?” his words rushed through your veins, close enough to feel the thump thump thump as he pressed his lips against your jaw, planting open mouthed kisses

“Everywhere,” you breathe out and Carlos grins, finally letting go of your wrist, giving you free reign to run your fingers through his hair as he makes a quick effort to rid you of your – his – shirt. 

“Are you sure?” He asks again, wanting to be absolutely positive that this is what you want to, that you aren’t just letting your emotions get the best of you. 

“Yes, Carlos, please.”

And who was he to deny such pretty pleas?

His lips left a path of destruction everywhere he touched, the burning sensation of his breath against your skin going straight to your core. Eventually, he reaches your nipples, tongue swirling and fingers pinching the other. His teeth marking all over your breasts as he continued his trail down.

“Stop me,” he tells you as his fingers pull the garter of your panties. “Stop me or I won’t be able to stop, baby.” 

“Don’t stop,” you quickly say, writhing under him. “God please, don’t you dare stop.” 

“You don’t have to call me god. My name is just fine,” he mutters against your skin as he pulls your underwear down. If this is the only night he gets with you then he’s going to make sure to ruin any other man for you. “Thought you were a good girl, baby. Always looking so innocent.”

His lips pressed against your clit, tasting the honey that seeped out of you, causing you to shudder as he situated himself between your legs, elbows pushing your legs apart. His tongue flats on your clit, swiping a lick as you moan out, fingers clutching desperately at his hair, a chorus of pleases and Carlos tumbling out of your lips. He doesn’t think there could be a much better sound as he pokes his tongue into your entrance, your tight walls pushing him out. 

Your body is arching up as he sucked at your clit, making Carlos place his arm around your stomach, pushing you back down as his other hand gathered your wetness, spreading it all over your folds before slowly pushing in, a cocky grin on his lips as your moan grows louder. 

His tongue and fingers worked together, one slowly pumping in and out of you as he let you adjust and his lips sucking into your clit. He swears he’s meeting his creator as you come into his mouth, voice becoming strangled and your back once again arching as you scream his name, loud enough that Carlos hopes everyone in the floor can hear it. You sound angelic and sinful all at once. 

“One more, pretty girl,” he tells you. “Tan bonito como este,” he tells you, watching as you shudder with each swipe of his tongue. You’re far too gone to even care about what he’s saying. “Y todo mío.”

Your fingers running through his tousled, demanding him to keep going and to stop at the same time, the faint taste of iron on your tongue as you bite your bottom lip, soft angelic melodies of his name escaping your lips. He sucked harder, wrist working faster as he added another finger in, pumping in and out of you at a much faster rate than he had a while ago, working to bring you to your second orgasm of the night, one he knew you needed but in reality, he needed more. 

"That feels good doesn't it love? You like it when I touch you like this?" Carlos groans and rubs your clit faster. You buck your hips and nod quietly. "Use your words angel," he taunts.

"Yes, yes, oh my god, yes please. yes," you moan loudly.

“Good,” he says, a smug smirk playing on his face. It’s incredible how easy it is for you to submit to him, to beg to his name as if he’s your newfound religion.

It’s an ego thing as his tongue carved Sainz on your clit with the promise of making you his. His kisses stamped your inner thigh, teeth gently nibbling on your skin as he marked what’s his. You don’t know it yet but you’re his. Once he’s done with you, you’ll never want another man again. His tongue slipped inside you, his finger now tracing his name. 

“Can I… can I come please?” Your voice is shaky and broken as you ask him, full of obedience that he didn’t even have to teach you as you so easily surrendered yourself to him and his control. In that moment, your body belonged to him and you both knew it.

“Look at me. Look at who’s making you feel this good,” he demands, your cum dripping from his lips. It takes effort for you to even comprehend his words and much more to force your eyes open as you meet his hazel ones. His efforts doubled in speed and strength, your screams becoming louder as he pushed you to the edge. 

You gasp loudly as you feel your whole body trembling even more and then you feel your body tense as you come against his mouth. Your whole mind feels like exploding and all you can see is stars. You feel so overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you’reexperiencing, your body is still trembling as you feel yourself come down from your high.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he tells you softly as he crawls over to your side, brushing the hair from your face and placing his lips on you. Your body is motionless against his as you climb down from your back to back orgasm. 

“Open your mouth, cariño,” he says, gently tapping at your jaw. You comply as he spits into your mouth, the taste of you now present on your taste buds. You’re quick to swallow, making Carlos grin at you. Your undeniable submission to him gives him a kind of satisfaction. 

“Are you ready for me, pretty girl?” He asks softly, hand on your cheek a deep contrast to what his fingers had been doing to you a few moments ago. “Do you want to stop?” 

You shyly shake your head. Carlos thought you looked most beautiful like this, so incredibly ruined for him. “I’m not- I haven’t–” you start, stuttering over your own words.

“Speak up, cariño,” he tells you and your cheeks heat up even more. 

“I haven’t…done it,” say finally, voice increasingly getting shyer with each syllable. 

For a minute, Carlos was frozen, not having expected your admission. You’re twenty four years old after all, he had expected you to at least have some experience, but he knows you’re telling the truth from the light blush on your cheeks as you all but hide your face to his shoulder, touching him so surely as if you’ve done it a thousand times before. 

He could feel himself melting a little, your shy smile and red cheeks so adorable that he couldn’t help but smile back at you as he wraps his arm around your naked figure, pulling you closer towards him.

“We don’t have to,” he assures you. “We can just go to sleep now.”

“I want to,” you’re quick to say, placing your chin on his shoulder. “I was saving it for…”

For Charles. You don’t bother finishing your sentence, you both already know. The sting in his chest is instant, a reminder that you’re not his, at least not fully. 

And then the pride rolls in. You’ve saved this for Charles for years, probably rejecting a multitude of men along the way and yet you’re so willingly offering it to him now, with no hesitation and no question with the monegasque the farthest thing from your mind as you stared up at him with those big eyes of yours. 

Before you can say anything else, his mouth is on yours again, whatever little softness his kiss carried a while ago is gone now. He’d never let you go, not when he’s already got a taste. There’s no way he’s ever letting you go now, not when you’re holding on to him like that, nails digging on the skin of his back, naked body pressed against his. 

And if he does lose you, if another man gets to touch you after him, he’ll make sure to ruin you for them. He’ll make sure it’s him on your mind every time, his name you’re begging to scream out. 

You’re warm. Tingling with anticipation threaded into your nerves and heat. And you feel your body throbbing all at once as Carlos claims your mouth. Your hands are eager, pulling at the shorts he’s still wearing, a whine at the back of your throat.

“Carlos,” you breath out, needy all over as he takes his time marking your skin. 

“What did I say about whining?” He asks, immediately getting you to shut your mouth and instead settling for biting your lower lip. 

Still though, Carlos does as you ask, pulling away from you in order to remove his clothes. You gulp as you watch his unbearably hard cock reach his stomach. He was carved by god himself you’re sure. No mere mortal can possibly look as beautiful as he does now in all of his naked glory, chest perfectly refined, hair tousled and back and arms littered with scratches. 

Heat travels to your cheeks once you realize you’re staring. You try to avert your eyes but Carlos is crawling back at you, hands cupping your cheeks as he all but forces you to meet his eyes. “You can stare, Amor. I’m yours to look at.” 

His declaration ignites a blazing warmth in your chest, giving you the courage to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you in order to once again connect your lips. He’s yours. He’s yours. And you’re his. You’ve never felt this alive before, never quite felt like this before. Not with any man and not with Charles. You’re his. You know that now. 

“You’re beautiful,” you mutter to no one but the world as his lips travel from your lips to your jaw. 

Carlos only hums as his lips travel all over your face and neck. You whimper as his mouth presses kisses all over your sensitive skin, your hands traveling to his hair and tugging lightly.

“I have been thinking about this moment for so long.” He rasps, kissing your throat softly. Your body trembles against his as he continues to cover your face and neck with kisses.

Your brain is all over the place, eyes heavy and clouded as you try to tell him how much you’ve been wanting him. All your thoughts overwhelm you, disabling any rational understanding of what is going on. You just want him. You need him. 

All you can taste, all you can feel, all you can see, all you can think about is him.

The whine that comes out of you only drives Carlos to seek out more of those sounds, they are potentially the most amazing sounds he’s ever heard. Your arms wrap around his neck, in an attempt to bring him closer to you, your hips accidentally move against him making him groan. 

“Didn’t take you for the needy type, angel,” Carlos teases and you want to tell him to stop, to just fuck you already. You needed him so badly but you know doing so will result in nothing. He’s going to kill you with anticipation, have you begging for his touch. 

“Carlos,” you beg, wanting to cry with unmet arousal. “Please. Need you so bad.”

“Shh,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll take care of you, baby.” 

His lips travel to your breast, greedily claiming your nipple with his mouth. His tongue circles your most sensitive nerve, making you let out another moan. You whine as your cunt starts clenching around nothing, begging for attention. Instinctively you start moving your hips against his making him groan against your skin. His lips leave your breast with a wet pop and he looks at you intensely as you try to catch your breath. You’re panting, barely able to think straight. 

He groans as you continue to grind up against him, grasping your hips to halt your movements, causing a whine out of you as he pushes your hips against the mattress, so desperate to feel him again. Finally, he slowly moves towards the bed and gently spreads your thighs apart as he fits himself between them. He positions his body against yours, hand coming up to your face to caress your cheek again as you feel his other wander all over your body making you breathless already.

You feel his cock momentarily against your wetness which makes you thrust against him.

“I need you,” you pant against his lips, but Carlos pulls his hips away slightly with a small smirk on his face. “Please…”

You need him so bad and you’re getting impatient as you feel him press kisses all over your neck, being much gentler than you know he’s used to. He’ll have his way with you eventually but for tonight, your pleasure and comfort is all that matters. Panting, you feel him slowly go down your body. He momentarily wraps his mouth around one of your nipples and sucks lightly making you arch your body against his. 

You feel yourself dripping down the sheets, whining helplessly as you become desperate with need.

You can’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his cock in order to relieve yourself some tension. It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, and he has no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.

“Oh fuck,” Carlos rasps, reaching down and grasping himself to line up between your lips. He keeps rubbing the head of his cock to your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you squirm underneath him and back down. He loves the sounds you make as he spreads himself around your slit, where you’re still dripping for him.

You gasp openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You’re still so so wet. Carlos swallows your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against you. He kisses you full of fervor, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.

You’re trembling against him, full of anticipation. His body covers your whole body with his as you writhe against him, wishing he was just in you already.

“Are you ready, cariño? Let me know if I start to hurt you or if you want to stop.” He whispers as he looks deep into your eyes.

You bite your lip and nod, too shy and excited to talk.

“I’ll try to go slow at first, okay, angel?” He says before leaning back down to kiss your lips again, he reaches down and grasps himself. He is rubbing the tip firmly over your swollen clit and your mind is all over the place.

“Please, Carlos,” you stutter, your body trembling even more. 

He rubs himself up and down your slit for a while longer before one of his hands lean down to spread your outer fold sliding his cock teasingly around your core. You arch your back slightly and whine out of frustration.

You want to beg him to do something again as he leans down to line up his cock with your entrance, your legs trembling under him with a mix of nerves and excitement. Carlos slides in so slowly it’s agonizing. He’s careful, like he’s afraid you might break. 

You let out a long broken whine as he gradually pushes more of him inside you. He’s so big, stretching your walls. It feels as though your organs are moving around to give him space with how full you feel. He leans down to kiss your lips gently as he moves more inside, hoping the sweetness of the embrace will soften the sting.

Once he’s fully inside you, you sigh against his lips. You feel so full, as if he’s made for you and only you. The feeling of him filling you up so completely has you seeing stars and digging your fingernails into his shoulders.You feel one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them with yours as the other one reaches up to your face.

“You okay?” He asks worriedly.

“Yeah, I just need a moment,” you mutter, breathless.

He smiles as your eyes are drifting close, both so full and exhausted at the same time.

You feel yourself gradually adjust to his size, your lower lip between your teeth as you open your eyes again to look up at Carlos’ beautiful sight above you.

“Please move,” you beg.

He nods quietly and starts by thrusting into you slowly, one hand reaching down to play with your clit, while the other holds your hand tightly. The sting hurts you for a while, but it easily changes to pleasure as he moves against you. You’re so overstimulated from all your previous orgasms that the sensation he’s giving you is mixed between pain and pleasure. 

He grunts as he drops his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin there and to whisper sweet nothings as he sets a pace.

“So tight,” he groans.

The angle is so good, but when his pace picks up he finally leans down to wrap his arms around you, making you gasp as he thrust into you faster and harder, pinning you against the mattress and taking full control of your body. 

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. Doing so so good for me. Eres tan perfecta.”

You whimper as his lips move back up against your own as he kisses you passionately.

At a certain point you feel the end of his strokes slide into a pressure point inside you that has you clenching like a vise around his cock. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, back arching as he keeps thrusting into you, the feeling of him repeatedly hitting your most sensitive spot causing a loud noise you’ve never made before escaping your lips, a strange cry of his name. 

“Fuck,” Carlos muttered against your ears, feeling your walls clenching around him, letting him know that you’re close. “You’re so loud for me, angel.” 

“God.” You’re lost in pleasure, tears streaming down your face as you desperately claw at his skin. Whatever pain you were feeling before is lost now as you all but float in a cloud of lust. 

“Hold it in, baby,” he demands, tongue licking your tears away as his hand pushes your hair out of your face, wanting to see you fully as you reach your high. 

“Please, Carlos,” you sobbed, squirming under him. “Need to…need to come please.”

His thrust doesn’t stop or falter, getting harder and harder as his hand grips your waist. There would surely be a bruise of his handprint there tomorrow but you’re far too gone to care. “Look at you so desperate to cum on my dick. Who’s making you feel this good, angel?”

“You!” You cry out, more than willing to pledge your life away to him at this point, the only thing that matters is your release. “Only you! Please, Carlos.” 

“That’s right. Only me. Sólo yo.” Carlos smirks at the sight of you under him, so completely defenseless. “Go on, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice as you spasm under him, losing control of your body. Your vision is hazy as you ride out your high, your body out of your control as your nails dug to his skin, teeth buried on his shoulder. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure quite like this.

You feel his cum shoot inside your walls as his body slightly relaxes on yours. He’s barely broken a sweat, his stamina completely phenomenal, but he knows you’re spent and after tonight, you deserve a break, especially considering it’s your first time. And so with that, he gently pulled out of you, making sure not to put anymore pressure on your tired body as he dropped to the place next to you.

Despite your clear exhaustion though, there’s no hesitation in your movements as you turn to him, breathing shallow. Placing your seemingly heavy head on his chest, you throw your arms over his stomach. Carlos’ breath hitched. He had just fucked you, made you come three times and yet somehow the action of you so naturally cuddling to him had his heart racing. 

“You did so good,” he told you gently, arms more than welcoming, immediately wrapping around you. “Are you okay, niña bonita?”

“Yes,” you mumble, voice hoarse from all the screaming as you bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck. “Tired.”

“Sleep,” he told you softly, lips planting a kiss on the top of your sweaty hair as he pulled you closer towards him. 

You let out a hum, already drifting off to dreamland with your naked bodies pressed against each other, not an inch between the two of you as you tightly held on to each other. 

—

The next time you saw Carlos was the next day as you climbed into Ferrari’s private plane. Nearly the entire team is hungover, half asleep as they lugged their baggage, you along them but for an entirely different reason. 

As soon as you stepped into the plane, the Spaniard's eyes were on you and yours on him. You wore the jacket he lent you last night over a simple shirt and jeans, opting to wear something comfortable for the flight rather than something stylish. He, on the other hand, still looked breathtaking in a simple buttoned up shirt and jeans, hair tousled as he watched the way your cheeks turned red. 

Charles, far too tired and sleepy, barely noticed as you disappeared from his side as you all but made a beeline towards Carlos. 

“Good morning, angel,” he greets you, heart soaring at the obvious way you seeked him out, not even hesitating to leave the monegasque’s side in favor of his. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admit, still with a nervous tone to your voice as you take the seat in front of him. “But worth it.”

As Carlos reached forward to lightly push your hair back, his touch now so familiar, you missed the way Charles searched for you upon noticing you’re no longer next to him. You also missed the look of pure jealousy in his eyes, one you’ve longed to see for as long as you can remember. But Carlos hadn’t and for the first time, Charles saw a version of his teammate he’s never seen or expected, one that’s very obviously staking his claim on you, eyes challenging Charles to fight back as you lean into Carlos’ touch. 

Carlos didn’t have to say it but Charles understood anyway.

Carlos is a patient man and he played the game so well, biding his time properly and it had all paid off so well, everything falling perfectly into place as the sight of you next to him became a common occurrence. You often wear his shirts after nights in his hotel room, meeting up with Charles for breakfast only to practically reek of Carlos’ cologne. He’s all over you even when he’s not around, his imprints on your skin, his scent all over you, reminding Charles that he’s lost a game he hadn’t realized he was playing. 

And when he is around, it’s not like Carlos is trying to hide it, an arm always around your waist or sometimes hands on your hips. This time though, it’s Charles that’s watching. He watches as the Spaniard touches you so easily as though he’s done it a thousand times before. He watches as you’re quick to relax against his chest, your soft easy smile painting your face and a certain glint in your eyes that Charles knows so well. 

Carlos, as Charles is beginning to realize, is a pretty fucking great liar. When they’re together with the team, talking cars and strategies or with the marketing team, doing challenges and interviews, it’s like nothing’s ever changed, both of them still so close. The only noticeable difference now is that you’re rarely on Charles’ side. Instead, you choose to always be by Carlos’, barely sparing your childhood best friend a glance as you stare at the Spaniard as though he hangs the stars and the moon. 

Eventually though, the unsaid stare off they often shared comes to a close. It had been during the spanish grand prix with Charles naively thinking he’s doing his teammate a good deed by knocking on his door before the marketing team comes and nags him about a video that needs shooting. Charles didn’t want them to be late and he didn’t want Carlos to have to stand for a lecture. 

But when he opens the door, not having bothered to knock, thinking it’s just another boring weekend before a race with Carlos on his phone like the thousand other weekends before that. 

Charles couldn’t be more wrong though because instead of the sight of Carlos engrossed in his phone, you're laying on his lap, the dress you wore bunched up around your waist and your eyes shut close as soft moans escaped your lips. Carlos has a hand holding you in place while another is busy assaulting your cunt, three fingers deep inside you, pumping in and out at such a brutal pace that has you biting your lower lip till you can taste blood, tears dripping down to your cheeks.

Charles is frozen in place, the sight of you so open, so perfectly spread for Carlos, caused him to swallow deeply. He can hear the filthy sound of Carlos’ fingers leaving your cunt only to unrelentingly push back in.You’re far too gone to even notice his presence, your fourth orgasm on Carlos’ fingers having completely drained your body as you keep taking more, but Carlos looks up at Charles, the pace of his fingers disappearing within the lips of your cunt never stopping as he raises an eyebrow.

The smirk pulling at his lips brings Charles back down to earth, forcing himself to look away from your naked body as he spun on his heel, shutting the door behind him. 

Charles can feel his heart racing, his pants suddenly much tighter than it had been minutes ago. The sound of your moans keeps repeating in his head, completely distracting him from the tasks at hand. 

After fixing his erection, Charles finds his way back to the hospitality, reuniting with his media aid as he tries to shake the sight of you whispering and messy on Carlos’ knees. 

“Where’s Carlos?” One of the Ferrari people asks him, but Charles only shrugs, not quite sure if he’s able to use his voice. 

A few minutes pass as the team waits for Carlos till the Spaniard finally emerges from his drivers room, hair messy and lips swollen. No one but Charles seems to notice though and the memory of you on his lap haunts Charles as he meets his teammate’s gaze, smug and proud as he runs his hand through his hair. 

Carlos claps Charles on the shoulder, mischief clear in his hazel eyes. “Finders keepers, right?”

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16