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awxcoffeexno · 6 months ago

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ain't gon' ever deserve you

mutant!loganhowlett x human!reader one shot

fic masterlist | nsfw claw worship

summary: logan has a nightmare and hurts you by accident - or - the one where you worship his claws the way they deserve.

content: mostly family-friendly claw worship. logan believes in the animal accusations but reader fixes it. reader is human, logan and reader have an established and v loving relationship, lots of reassurance and comforting for logan.

warnings: logan has nightmares, mentions of blood, logan self-hate, family-friendly knife play??????.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: listen, claw worship has been on my mind for a looooooong time. I'm too chicken to put up any of my nsfw writing yet so here's an sfw version with affirmations for poor baby lo-lo. also this is super inspired by logan and kayla's relationship and even uses some quotes from them.

you're deep asleep, dreaming of everything and nothing when you feel the sudden sharp sting in your arm.

eyes flying open, you open your mouth to hiss in pain but logan's lips are at your ear, snarling and grunting in his sleep again.

you look down to find his claws out, the metal tips digging into your arm. you exhale sharply, watching the warm blood seep down your arm and onto the new white sheets.

"no! n– no!" he growls, and you're forced to bite your lip as you try to pull away from his vice grip. when that doesn't work, you sink your nails into his arm.

"logan–"

"victor, NO!" he screams and sits up, yanking his claws from your arm and stabbing at the air in front of him.

victor creed. logan's brother and the bane of his existence. victor who haunts his dreams every single night, victor whose name you can never forget, victor who is now the reason logan's hurt you.

you sit up with him, aching for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. the burning pain in your arm an afterthought, you hear him swallow and gently let out a breath. he's sticky with sweat and the dry radiator air in the room isn't helping, the moon glowing through your glass walls, creating a halo around his head.

"nightmare." you state, letting him catch his breath and take in his surroundings.

he nods even though what you said wasn't a question but a statement. he twists around and pulls you into his lap, hugging you like he does near every night – chin tucked into your shoulder, arms wrapped all the way around your torso. he smells of soap and cigar smoke and the faintest hint of your shampoo. you smile to yourself and press a kiss to his hair.

"you're so cute." you mutter and a small smile spreads across his lips.

"cute?" he repeats, amused. "that's new." he pulls you closer, further down his lap and you can feel his heartbeat start to steady again.

"you used my shampoo again, and don't you deny it this time."

he scowls at you but lets you kiss him anyway. "reminds me of you," he sighs when he realises you won't stop until he admits it.

"but i'm right here," you giggle, running your thumb over the shell of his ear.

he opens his mouth to explain further but that's when he smells it. the blood he's drawn from your arm in his nightmare-fuelled anger at victor. his jaw tightens as he looks for the source of blood, finding three uniform slices on the outside of your forearm.

"no," he gasps, a thousand emotions crossing his eyes.

you try to wiggle your arm out of his grip, the blood running down your arm now. "hey... i'm okay."

"like fuck you are," he snarls, angry at himself.

how could he have possibly hurt you?! was this a thing now?? was he a danger to you even in his sleep?! god, he'll have to put you to sleep and then figure out a way to declaw himself. maybe if he just slices the back of his palms open–

"james..." you break him out of his thoughts, hand on his cheek. "baby, i'm okay. really. it looks worse than it feels."

"i'm going to rip these out." he whispers, holding his fists up, the back of his palms facing you. his words are as much a promise to you as a command to himself.

you grab his fists and glare at him. he blinks at your expression, looking at you over his hands.

"don't you dare say anything of the sort. these are a gift."

"a gift," he scoffs, "you can return a gift."

"these are a gift," you repeat sternly. "and i will not let you do anything to them."

he opens his mouth to protest but you aren't done. how dare he even think of hurting himself, of declawing himself when you love his claws as much as you love every last part of him.

you run your fingers over the back of his palms and whisper, "take them out."

"sweetheart..."

"take them out, my love" you repeat, kissing his knuckles because you know it hurts every time he does.

he carefully and very very slowly bares them and you look at him from between the blades.

not breaking eye contact, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the base of the middle claw on his right hand. you catch him shuddering and your eyes widen in surprise.

"you felt that?"

you can see him redden even in the dark. "'course i did," he grunts.

"what does it feel like?" you ask, fascinated. everyday you learn something new about him and it never fails to delight you.

you kiss the base of another claw on the other hand and see him inhale sharply.

he groans deeply, humming to come up with the right words. "like... you're stroking every nerve in me to life."

that makes you sit up on your haunches and wrap your fingers around his wrists. he freezes, bracing himself to yank the claws back in the second he thinks you might hurt yourself on the sharp ends. you carefully lick along the length of the claw between his pinky and ring finger on his right hand, making him exhale shakily.

"tryna kill me, sugar?" he says through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tense.

"trying to show you how much i love your claws, lo. even if they hurt sometimes."

you loop your right hand between both of his, gently pressing the tip of your thumb against the sharp end of a claw. you run your finger up the blade, making him whine in protest as you draw blood.

his eyes implore you, pleading, but you simply take your hand up to his mouth, pressing your bleeding thumb against his lips. he relents, sucking it into his warm mouth and licking it clean.

"logan?" you whisper and he hums around your thumb.

despite the heat in your core, pooling between your legs, you need him to hear this. you'll have time to fulfil that need later.

"every part of you means everything to me. but your claws, especially your claws, have the most special place in my heart. they protect me. they make you feel good. and most of all, they're fucking cool."

and that finally makes him crack a smile again.

"y'think so?"

"mhmm."

"c'mere." he says finally, pulling his claws back in and tugging you back into his lap.

he makes you straddle him and kisses you warmly. he looks into your eyes with such fondness, it squeezes your heart. carefully he pulls his first claw out on his right hand and uses it to gently push your hair out of your eyes. your eyes flutter shut in response, leaning into his metal touch.

he brushes the back of the claw across your cheek and your lips part prettily for him. the air doesn't feel so thick anymore, the quiet humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen not overwhelming him the way it was when he snapped awake.

ever so carefully, pushing his own boundaries, he turns his wrist and pushes the flat of his claw onto your tongue. it's warm and tastes of him, salty and musky and like metal.

"that okay for you, pretty girl?" he mumbles and you can hear the strain in his voice. he's terrified but he so badly wants to be brave for you.

you wrap your lips around the claws and suck softly in response, drawing a groan of pleasure from him.

he shudders beneath you, every inch of him tense and trembling with restraint. you slide your tongue along the metal, tracing the edge of his claw with reverence, savoring the taste of him.

logan’s breath catches in his throat, and you feel the warmth of his exhale ghost across your face. his other hand, free of the adamantium blades, finds its way to your waist, gripping you tightly.

"god," he breathes out, voice rough and filled with a raw vulnerability you hear only at night. "you have no idea what you do to me."

you slowly release his claw from your mouth, letting it slide out with a deliberate slowness that has him biting back another groan. his eyes are locked on you, dark with need.

you reach up, cupping his face with your now clean thumb, and brush your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. "i think i do," you whisper against his mouth. "i want you to feel how much i love every part of you, logan. even the parts that scare you."

his claws retract with a soft snikt, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

"you're something else, darlin'," he murmurs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. you can feel the smile playing on his lips. "you make me feel... whole."

you nestle into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. "and you make me feel safe," you reply, closing your eyes and letting the furnace heart of his presence envelop you. "always."

you feel his grip tighten, his hand trembling slightly against your waist. he's always been the warrior, the weapon, the animal, but here in your arms, he's just logan, just a man who’s been through more pain than anyone should endure.

"people see the claws and think i’m nothing but a beast," he murmurs, his voice thick with self-doubt. "like i’m more metal than man. they look at me and all they see is the damage i can do."

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands framing his face. he tries to look away, but you won’t let him. you press a soft kiss to his brow, then his cheek, and finally, to the corner of his mouth.

"they don’t make you an animal," you whisper, your voice even and filled with conviction. "they make you strong. they’re not just weapons, they’re part of what makes you you."

his breath hitches at your words, and you feel him struggle against the years of conditioning, the years of being told that he’s nothing more than a killing machine. but you won’t let those words hold power over him anymore.

you reach down, gently taking his right hand in yours. with care, you press a kiss to each knuckle, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips. then, you look up at him and slowly, deliberately, coax his claws out again.

you run your fingers lightly over the metal, tracing the curves and edges with the same care you’d give to a delicate piece of art.

logan watches you, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, something like awe. "you don’t see me like everyone else does," he says, almost to himself.

"no," you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of one of his claws. "i see you, logan. the real you. and what i see is a man who’s fought for so long to protect the people he loves, even when it’s cost him everything. your claws, they’re not just about hurting or fighting. they’re about protecting. they’re about survival. and they’re about who you have been for so long."

his chest rises and falls with each breath, the tension slowly easing from his body as your words sink in. for once, he doesn’t feel like an animal. he feels like a man, just a man. and it's nice.

"besides," you say, tone lightening. "so you really think I'm such a baby i can't handle three little cuts?"

you both know you're underplaying it and though he would never admit it in the day, the moonlight across his face betrays his grateful expression. it's easier to believe that he hasn't hurt you too much when you're saying it yourself.

you lower his hand, resting it against your chest, over your heart.

he swallows hard, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go. "ain't gon' ever deserve you," he whispers, his voice thick.

"you deserve everything," you murmur back, holding him just as tightly. "and i’m going to keep reminding you of that, every day."

for a moment, he’s silent, just holding you close. then, in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper, he says, "you almost make me feel human, darlin’."

you pull back just enough to kiss him again, only because you know he'd much rather feel than hear. your kiss is slow and tender, letting him feel the truth in your touch.

he doesn’t say anything more, but the way he kisses you back, the way he holds you, tells you everything you need to know.

he'll be okay. you'll make him okay. you gently push him to lie down and rest your head on his chest.

you love him, you love how he wants so badly to believe you, and most of all, you fucking love his claws.

this stemmed from a very nsfw thought™ but here we are, all warm and fuzzy. a mostly non-angsty fic is new for me!!

hope you liked this x

love, d <3

edit: i wrote an nsfw claw worship fic too 🤠🤝🏽 >> unholy

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine angst #logan howlett angst #logan howlett xmen #xmen #xmen fanfiction

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twistmusings · 6 months ago

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OKAY NO BECAUSE @mothman-secondary POINTED SOMETHING OUT IN THE NOTES THAT I COMPLETELY FORGOT.

Again, spoilers under the cut.

They are absolutely correct. Azul never refers to Jade or Floyd as "部下" or "部下達" (subordinate/subordinates) in the Japanese version. In fact, Azul pretty much exclusively refers to Jade and Floyd by their first names, and exceedingly rarely says something akin to "My Vice Housewarden Jade".

He also doesn't use a -san suffix for either of them, which is pretty much exclusively a way of referring to people you're close with when we're talking about Japanese. It's really not all that common for -kun or -chan to be used from one person to another unless they're referring to someone younger than them, a child, or an animal. Another example would be Floyd, who gives everyone cutesy nicknames and always affixes chan or kun to them except for a couple of his seniors. (Or, in Vil's case, he gets both, being called both Betta-chan or Betta-senpai.)

Jade and Floyd also refer to Azul as just Azul. Even the few times they've translated it in English as Jade or Floyd saying "sir" or "yes sir", that has either been them referring to Azul by name or saying "はい", which is just the way of saying you're agreeing to something. They never give Azul a title.

The only person in this trio who ever refers to him a subordinate in any form is Jade.

That takes this

And makes it quite literally something that would only ever happen in Jade's imagination. Is that a reason he probably latches onto it and ultimately wakes up? Yeah, definitely, but it also means that Jade assigns himself the role of being subordinate to Azul, and this is something he doesn't show himself willing to do for literally anyone else. Then the Azul in his imagination proceeds to call him his "cute subordinate"???

Lads, I don't say this lightly, but Jade is actually down horrendous.

florid and (arguably) azujade are feasting this chapter update. congrats us

Honestly Anon, you're so right.

Chapter 7 is so interesting for Octavinelle - largely because we do get to see so much of how they think of each other and themselves, and we get to see so much of their relationship with each other. Honestly the shippers are thriving, but so are so many Jade and Floyd fans.

CW: Spoilers, Twisted Wonderland Character Shipping and mentions of Neurodivergence under the cut in case that isn't your cup of tea. It's very long and examines Floyd and Riddle's and Jade and Azul's dynamics throughout TWST and is sort of Character Analysis as well. Special note that there are Visual spoilers under the cut that will spoil some of the jokes from this chapter, so proceed with caution.

First, Floyd, who we see is outright distraught when everything goes right. Honestly at this point it makes me, as an ADHD person, struggle to not view Floyd as also having ADHD. I tend to not actually assign the characters neurodivergence or diagnose them, but honestly his characteristics really point to him being understimulated and just generally miserable because he's not doing anything and that's boring him. I have heard this from so many other folks with ADHD and have experienced it myself. I think, truth be told, that Floyd is a really good picture of a young person with ADHD. Especially as someone who was just properly diagnosed later in life - I would get these random, massive intense moods and would never be able to explain them until I began to suspect I had ADHD. If we consider Floyd's general characterization - he hates to be 'bored', he hates to force himself to do things that he doesn't want to do, he had random, intense moods, randomly struggling with some academics while really excelling in the things that interest him, comparing himself to other people and not understanding why he's different ... like, yeah, as a person with ADHD I relate to him so much. It's so interesting to me because Japan in general has a lot of medical bias against diagnosing and managing neurodiversity, so I think generally speaking, he's honestly a really well written example of someone who is struggling. I think his portrayal is probably so important for young people who play the game because it makes them feel normal and accepted, and I can't deny that.

And then Floyd and Riddle... these two are so funny. Like, if you had to ask me any character that shows having a crush on someone else canonically, I would probably point to Floyd and how he acts with Riddle. Considering that they're teenagers and we know neither he nor Riddle have any experience dating (none of the characters except Ace really do), I think it's really charming because like... are they annoying the fuck out of each other? Yeah, and I think that's pretty realistic for people who are 17 who have crushes on each other. Of course, I don't want to say I support people annoying or antagonizing their partners, but they are young people who are still learning how life works. I realize that teasing =/= having a crush on someone, but like...

In the recent stitch event they had this dialogue

Riddle gets so genuinely happy when Floyd praises him. Even Jack takes note of it. And then in Floyd's Labwear...

This interaction is so telling of the sort of relationship that they have with one another - first Floyd interprets their interactions as playing. Second, Riddle takes note that Floyd is in a bad mood which means that Riddle pays enough attention to him to notice when he's having a bad day. And then you have Jade over there just like 👀. It's so goofy but it's kind of wholesome also because it shows that in spite of everything, Riddle still shows concern for Floyd and Jade is a nosy sibling.

I don't know how many people have actually read the comic anthology, but there's a side story with Floyd and Riddle where Riddle is trying to study how to control himself better following his OB and Floyd, of course, comes to bother him and notices him reading advanced books and that ends in this interaction.

Like, is Floyd being a shit? Yes, of course, but he also doesn't take it back when he says that he thinks that it's admirable that Riddle works hard.

They really are the duality. Please enjoy this too-high effort shitpost I made.

And then add the fact that in the most recent story chapters the thing that gets Floyd to wake up is Silver and Jamil reminding him of the entrance ceremony where Riddle threw him through the air, and Floyd essentially being like "Yeah goldfishie is fun that was fun" and that being what snaps him out of it? Like these two are fated to irritate the hell out of each other by the story itself.

Also I think it's such a funny cute touch that the reason Floyd even started irritating Riddle is because Riddle couldn't control his temper and flung him. Floyd was just being curious, and while, yeah he probably should have asked before he touched Riddle's hair because he was curious if it would feel hot, Riddle immediately rose to meet his energy, and generally speaking we know that Floyd is a physically motivated person. He likes to fight, and he likes to test his strength. No one else caused a scene at the Sophomore orientation except Riddle. You know, the character that is almost entirely focused on not breaking rules? Riddle painted a massive target on his own back with his temper. And honestly, what I think does make it work is that even though Floyd teases Riddle literally all the time, he does respect Riddle. Riddle is interesting to him because he's strong and reacts when Floyd irritates him. As I said before, on Floyd's end at least, the antagonism is playful, and considering Floyd's relationship with Jade and Azul it's easy to see why. It's how he was raised to view affection from friends and peers.

Now, how about Riddle's side of things? Well, while we don't get a ton of canon crumbs from Riddle, there's at least a few things that we do get. We know that Riddle sort of resents that Floyd teases him, but he has been told multiple times by other people that Floyd is just trying to get a rise out of him. And yet, every time Floyd compliments Riddle and then immediately starts teasing him, Riddle falls for it. On some level, I'm sure it's because Riddle likes the attention just as much as Floyd, even if for a different reason. Riddle gets put down a lot - from his dorm and from his own mother. But even if Floyd teases him, Floyd also gasses him up because, like I said, Floyd genuinely thinks highly of Riddle. Riddle gets complimented and he gets smug about it because he thinks highly of himself, and it probably feels good to have that recognized.

Compare Riddle's interactions with Floyd to the ones he has with Jade, for example.

From the Spectral Soiree event.

There are a couple reasons why I feel like this is important to note. First, Riddle recognizes that Jade is making fun of him immediately. Riddle also misses Jade's sarcasm. Riddle isn't good at reading Jade - he finds Jade unpredictable and malicious, and interprets this as Jade making fun of him. In contrast, you don't see Riddle outright refuse a compliment from Floyd - he knows that Floyd is being upfront about how he feels when he says the things he does, but he doesn't know that about Jade. Riddle is also the butt of the joke here, whereas if we compare it to the similar situation that he went through with Floyd during the Tropical Turbulence event.

Floyd is teasing Riddle, yes, but in this situation he isn't making Riddle the butt of the joke, he's just causing a little bit of chaos. Floyd already has a plan in place, but Riddle the two aren't arguing with each other. It's also important to note that Floyd is one of the few characters outside of his dorm that Riddle really banters with comfortably.

The other thing is that though they compete with and annoy each other, Floyd and Riddle are actually genuinely pretty nice to each other otherwise. They both compliment each other pretty frequently even if they usually pepper in barbs as they do.

Floyd and Riddle are also pretty similar people, too:

At any rate, that's a lot of screenshots to basically say, yes they do make fun of each other and tease each other, but when they do get onto the same page, they work very well together and seem to have a mutual respect for each other even if they criticize each other. They can identify the aspects in each other that they can't identify in themselves and it makes their chemistry interesting because every time they share screentime it seems like they learn from each other.

Anyway, Florid fans eat well literally any time these two share screen time.

And then Jade and Azul... honestly those two cracked me up the entire time.

First you have Jade's dream with his god awful imagination. Jade literally gets the knockoff versions of Azul and Floyd as I said in the first post about it, but I think it's interesting to see how he perceives both of them. I'll be including images this time.

I'll start with Floyd because HOO buddy if I was Floyd and had to endure this shit.

This is an actual crime.

That being said, Floyd is noticeably more childish in Jade's dream than the actual Floyd is in reality, both in his rather immature visage as well as a more child-like way of speaking.

It's worth noting, in Floyd's dream, Floyd doesn't really pay much attention to where Jade is, and he doesn't really pay any attention to where Azul is either. He says "Eh, Jade's probably with Azul on land because the Mostro Lounge was succeeding." Floyd also makes a point of saying that it's a rule between the three of them - they don't have to stick together - if they don't want to do something, then they won't stick together and whoever wants to do it can do it on their own, or if they don't want to involve someone in something, they don't involve them in it. (Ironically, I would argue that this is one of the healthier dynamics for friendship in TWST that we see. All three of them have discussed and come to understand that if they need to separate ways, they will, they don't want to hold each other back from the things they enjoy.)

Jade on the other hand, and whether Floyd likes it or not, seems to view Floyd as a younger brother. We don't get confirmation as to whether or not Jade hatched first or if Floyd hatched first, but regardless of whichever it is, it seems like Jade views Floyd as his younger brother, and seems to have an instinct to coddle him, even if this portrayal of Floyd is deeply unflattering to Floyd and starts a whole fight.

It's also of note: Floyd didn't expect to be in Jade's dream at all. Floyd talks about how he figures that Jade has just dreamed about him in a similar way that Floyd had dreamed of Jade - off doing whatever he wanted to do. That's not true - Floyd is there, with Jade, and engaging in Jade's interests.

In Jade's official EN school uniform home tap he says:

Though some translations tend to interpret this line differently, and essentially instead say that Floyd is clingier than he seems.

The reason I'm pointing this out is because Jade is the only one of the three who's primary dream features all three of them together. This would seem to point toward Jade actually being the one who's clingier, and to being the one who's most attached to both of them. I can't really say for certain, but I almost wonder if Jade has a bit of a fear of abandonment with regard to Azul and Floyd and that's why his ideal dream world is one where they're both so reliant on him.

And then Azul...

Is Giorno Giovanna in the room with us?

Seriously though, I think it's kind of interesting to see how Azul is portrayed in Jade's imagination.

For reference, here's what Azul actually looks like in his mer form in the same pose.

The thing I immediately noticed is Azul's eyes. Sure, the image Jade has of Azul is a JJBA joke, but there's something else I want to point out about them in particular.

Azul's eyes are an entirely different, brighter color. In fact, it's also a different color from Azul's overblot eye color as well.

We know that Jade's limited imagination means he's working on his own impressions of Floyd and Azul and you're telling me that Jade's impression of Azul is that he looks like a character from a manga known for being about handsome, fabulous men and that he has ginormous, bright, shiny blue eyes that look like sapphires? Hello?????? Jade???

I think this is fascinating because had they just drawn Azul as like a normal old JJBA reference but kept his color palette the same, I could see it just being explained as "oh, neat, Jade thinks Azul is handsome when Azul doesn't" but follow me with this: Jade's imagination is painting them in broad strokes the way that Epel's imagination was doing in his dream. These are Jade's impressions of Floyd and Azul.

Floyd tracks - he sees Floyd as a younger brother and someone he inherently wants to take care of, even if it's not realistic. Floyd is a childish younger brother in a cartoonish way. Azul is motivated by money in a cartoonish way. These are the traits that stick out the most about the both of them to Jade.

So when Jade imagines Azul physically what he sees is Azul being handsome AND that he has these shiny bright blue eyes even if his memory gets the shade of blue wrong. Jade....... honey................ I need you to sit down when I tell you this..........

And then after he and Floyd fight, because Jade is too stubborn to wake up because he can't grasp that what he's seeing is wrong, the thing that finally triggers him to realize something is off is this version of dream Azul checking on him after the fight and being relieved he's okay and then saying that he's afraid he would have lost his "かわいい部下".

The thing that triggers Jade to start waking up is Azul calling Jade his cute subordinate (essentially his cute assistant). I am not exaggerating this. That is literally the phrase that triggers Jade. Jade even repeats it.

AND HE FUCKING PANICS

JADE. I AM BEGGING THE SECONDHAND CRINGE THIS MADE ME FEEL.

From there the dream Floyd of course says he's going to cry if Jade left him and like that just seals the deal. And everyone is super impressed because Jade realized it was wrong by himself and woke himself up.

I don't tend to insert my opinions much in my post but there is not a single person on this planet that is not going to make me believe that Jade did not just gay panic himself awake. I feel like most queer people have experienced something just like this. Jade literally wakes himself up because he's like "no, wait, hold on, Azul wouldn't say that, right?" and then Floyd saying he's going to cry sells it. Dream Azul essentially just fucking "baby girl"ed him and Jade was like "no, actually, that's too cringe for me to even dream about".

Then you have Azul's dream. Honestly there aren't a lot of crumbs there for Jade, but I think it's sort of sweet how even if they're sort of forced to, Jade and Floyd don't want to force Azul to do anything. They have a lot of respect for each other's personal boundaries, and they were fully prepared to let Azul stay asleep and allow him to work it out himself if he wanted to wake up. It doesn't end up working out that way, but it's not hard to tell that both the twins and Azul had respect for each other as individuals.

Another neat thing is that Azul is one of the few people who's dreams aren't inherently things he really wants. They're more of "what-if" scenarios. What if Azul was good at sports and ended up being a high school athlete? What if Azul actually got to follow through on burning that picture of his younger self and then opened a Mostro Lounge branch? I think it's interesting that Azul seems to be kept in these dreams because his imagination is vivid, and not because they're an ideal world perse. In a sense they are - but Azul himself admits that he doesn't really want either of them.

Azul gets so much growth shown in this chapter. He ends up wanting to wake up because he wants to live for himself, and not live for what other people think of him or having to rely on them. Azul still wants to succeed, but he wants to succeed for himself and not because he feels a need to one up the people that bullied him, and he wants to be fulfilled in himself. He's actually working on his mental health, I love that for him.

And, one more thing of note, I think it's so fucking cool that at the end of the book, Azul doesn't freak out about other people seeing him in his true form. In fact, he doesn't freak out about seeing himself in his true form when Idia makes a proxy version of him - he's just thinking about how cool it would be to have a second version of himself. I feel like most people have gotten the sense that Azul has a sense of self-loathing regarding his mer-form, but it seems like if he did at some point, he's made peace with it.

Anyway that's an unnecessarily long infodump about my feelings about the character relationships that we've got in the new update. Like obnoxiously long. So, uh... I'll just end the post with Azul's smiling sprite because I just think it's fucking adorable.

#answered;;#jeiazu #florid #twst #twisted wonderland #twst spoilers #spoilers #character analysis;;#Bro I dont know how I missed this but you're so right #Jade Leech is having his whole crisis right now im howling #everyone else be quiet he is having his canon event rn #every baby gay experiences this shit HELLO? YANA? PLEASE ANSWER THE PHONE I HAVE QUESTIONS #god i want to bully him SO BAD #kicking his feet and twirling his hair and dreaming about Azul calling him his cute subordinate and shit LIKE CAN YOU BLAME ME?#HEY WHY IS TWISTED WONDERLAND ONE OF THE BEST REPRESENTATIONS OF A GAY PANIC IVE EVER SEEN IN JAPANESE MEDIA?#Please don't mind me Mod Azul is experiencing cute aggression again #I feel like my followers are looking at me right now and wondering if they need to call someone because Im over here losing it #I can promise you I'm fine I just look at him and I see young me going through the same shit

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asterdeer · 1 year ago

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haven't watched the last two loki eps. haven't watched the last two ofmd eps. haven't finished the last season of mythic quest. haven't listened to dndaddies in months. haven't listened to dungeons and drimbus in over a year. haven't haven't haven't. hng argh blah and so forth

#i cant fucking finish anything #i just keep looping tawog and community over and over in an endless carousel of soothing familiarity #also ive had two dreams about izzy after i got the spoilers and i am just unsure of being able to stomach the last two eps anyway #hnngfghh. gack. shit. my soul tried to walk thru wet concrete and is comedically yet pathetically stuck in place #i keep thinking about richard but what else is new but also im worried i've juiced him dry #a week ago i was irritated that i couldn't unwind my brain from alastor #and now i can feel my brain going limp and uninvested in anything and it's the opposite hell #my mind is just a pair of slippery puppet paws and i cant hold on to anything #mythtakes #all the 2nd seasons this year have just been 'hey what if we made you Incredibly Emotionally Upset'#'what if we took Everything you were hoping for and made it Sad. Forever.'#and it's like well that sucks and i don't have the bandwidth for fix it fics so i guess the author is no longer dead and i'm Bummed abt it

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lilacgaby · 4 months ago

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title: family matters

pairing(s): husband!toji x reader, son!megumi x reader

summary: megumi wakes up with a nightmare, toji doesn't want to move, so he solves his own problem.

your face was smushed up against toji's chest as you slept deeply. your arm slung around his waist and your legs tangled in his as you breathed him in.

he was awake though, playing with your hair as he let the sounds of your muffled sighs against his chest and the white noise of the fan slowly drift him to sleep...

until the sound of the door creaking made him jump slightly, quickly moving to soothe you in case he startled you.

megumi shuffled in, rubbing his eyes as he walked to the corner of the bed. "dad?"

toji sighed as he layed his head over to look at him, you usually handled this kind of stuff since he felt awkward. "what is it kid?"

"i'm scared." megumi admitted, his voice sounding choked like he'd already been crying.

"y' all right. we're right here 'gumi, so there's nothing to worry about." toji comforted, having his full attention on megumi. he reached his hand out to hold his shoulder and shook it.

"nothing will happen to you or your mom as long as im here. got it?"

megumi sniffled and shook his head in a nod. "'kay.. but can you come tuck me in?" he asked, grabbing toji's arm in a pulling motion.

"no way kid. your mom is sleeping right on top of me, and 'm not moving 'til she wakes."

"dadd." he whined, tugging his arm with all his might to try and get him to move. "you have to, it's what mom does!"

he knew it well, how you'd immediately get out of bed any night he came to lay in his and soothe him to sleep, most nights he'd wake up alone and find you holding megumi as you slept in his bed.

"well i'm not your mother. you're a big kid already, you can do it yourself."

"but i want you to do ittt." he started to shake his arm, which was jostling you in return.

"hey stop it kid, ya wanna wake your mom up?"

"nooo. hurry up!" he said, finally letting go and stomping his feet.

"i'm not moving kid, so tough luck."

megumi pouted and decided to..

flip him over. as he started shoving toji over with all his might, you obviously fell under him first. with toji's weight completely on you, you woke up disoriented and confused.

megumi, now with a bunch of room for himself, jumped in and held your arm to his chest, smiling victoriously.

"what-- what's going on?"

"this brat is so stubborn, he's just like you. go back to sleep."

"huh..?" you were being lifted up by toji and so was megumi. he settled you in the middle with him and megumi at your sides.

"good night. don't say i don't love you brat."

you fell asleep confused but comfortable, and megumi only stuck his tongue out at toji before going back to sleep with you.

toji was now playing with your hair while watching over the two of you, the sight of your chests rising and falling with every breath you took comforting him.

he hung his arm around you, holding your hand. laying his head on yours, he placed a hand on megumi's hair, ruffling it slightly.

his heart felt warm as he fell asleep, dreaming of you. oh and his son was there too.

he woke up to the sounds of rustling as megumi woke up, early as possible. he started to tap on your shoulder until toji moved his hand away from you groggily.

"what?"

"i'm hungry."

"for crying out loud kid, no!"

...

he got up to make pancakes for you three, extra whipped cream for megumi as he handed them out.

megumi was sat in your lap happily munching away as you paired yours with a cup of coffee, still half asleep.

toji ruffled megumi's hair, making him let out a small "hey!" as he moved over to kiss you, making megumi scrunch up his face.

toji moved to sit beside you at the counter, his hand supporting his head as he looked over at you two.

"you're a headache y'know that?"

"don't be mean to mom." megumi said, his mouth full.

"i wasn't talking about her, kid!

#sighs deeply.. anyways #toji fushigro x reader #toji drabbles #toji x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk drabbles #toji oneshot

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inbabylontheywept · 2 months ago

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the fine and subtle art of arguing with old men

it was a good week for testing which meant it was a slow week for me. most of my job is fixing the machine when it goes down. if it doesn't go down, i don't have much to do.

fortunately neither did marc. in a site full of ornery old bastards, he's the oldest and the orneriest, so it goes without saying that i enjoy spending time with him. he reminds me of my grandpa. hell, he reminds me of a lot of people. i've befriended enough grumpy old men that i've got a sort of momentum to it now - you know how it is, when you meet someone that reminds you of someone else you really like. you get to start that friendship off half built, because you already have an idea of how to like that guy, and some of that old warmth can be brought to the new friendship. a little ember to start the stove up with.

(i think that's one of the really undersold beauties of getting older. you stop viewing people as strangers and more like remixes of friends.)

anyway, i was sitting next to marc and we were talking about the future. i've got my eye on having kids sometime soon (year or two? hopefully?), and he's very happy for me. i've tried asking him for advice, but all he says is that he didn't do a great job with his own kids and they still turned out okay, so i should stress less and trust myself more. i hope he's right. he believes it, at least, and it's a hell of a thing to have the faith of an old man. his faith is hard won.

as for his plans, he's retiring at some point in the next six months, and is hoping to sell his home and buy something in florida. he's republican, so he views the state as paradise, and i'm not inclined to even try talking him out of it. it's his dream, you know? i know for a fact my paradise would be a lot of people's hell. life's funny like that.

still, we kept going on, and it was a good time, and then he reminisced about the last time he got close to quitting - back around 2020. our job required getting vaxxed, and he refused, and there was a big kerfuffle about it before the job actually backed down. i know there's not a lot of sympathy for the unvaxxed out here, but the man's 62. you get the shot when you're under 30 to protect the people around you, but when you're over 60, you're just getting it to protect yourself and it's hard to be mad at someone for kicking their own ass.

still gave me pause though. i knew he wasn't going to take it well, but half the job of collecting curmudgeons is keeping them around, so i said

hey. i'm sorry they bent your arm over it, but.

but.

you should really get that shot.

and he looked over at me, and i looked at him, and he actually spat. not on me, just the concrete, but it was enough to show that he was mad. then he walked away, as abrupt as anything.

i felt bad about it. i wasn't sure what i'd expected, when he was willing to lose his job over it before, but i'd been so invested in his dream of retirement - the idea of him sipping margaritias on a beach next to his wife, the wife he calls every day during lunch, the wife he says is the one thing in life he ever got right on the first try. the wife that almost divorced him back when he was in the airforce because he just wasn't home enough.

(but he can be home now.)

and then he mentioned the vax thing, and it was like seeing a pin hit a balloon. he works out every day and takes all sorts of crazy vitamins and is generally committed to getting the most out of his pension and his life. i didn't want this dumb weak point to be his achilles heel.

---

i wasn't actually sure how long marc would be mad at me. i've seen him stay mad at some people for weeks. i wasn't sure if being friends would make that time go up or down.

it went down. i'm glad it went down.

he stopped being mad about two days later. we were doing front end maintenance one morning, and it was just that simple mechanical rhythm - hex key, replace the anode sheets, punch some off-gassing holes, oil it up, put it back in - that put things at ease. it always does. people working there are too busy to remember grudges, and it has this sort of mandatory practical communication that helps smooth things over. it was going great, and then out of the blue he said babs, you gotta be careful giving advice. those shots come with complications. what would you do if i got that shot, had a stroke, and died?

and i don't know what answer he was expecting, but i just told him the truth, which is that i would be devastated. i'd feel like i killed him. i thought that was a pretty normal response, but he looked taken aback. he asked why i said it then, and i said i'd have felt the same if he died of covid. that's just life. sometimes, there's no way forward that doesn't risk some kind of regret.

we finished the tube after that, in a silence that felt heavier than peace but lighter than anger. it felt like the ball was back in marc's court. like it would be rude to take that turn from him.

we parted ways with a nod and didn't speak until the next day.

---

i was doing spreadsheet work when he found me again. standard paper engineering - thinking of things we might need and ordering them in batches, months ahead of time. it always feels a little like plugging holes in a dam with my fingers.

but he popped up, and we didn't even exchange pleasantries. he just said i'm gonna die one day, and you can't blame yourself for that.

which is a hell of a thing to just tell someone right off the bat.

so i said what

and he said babs, i am in my 60s. something is gonna get me eventually, and whether it's covid or heart disease, or a stroke, there will be something you could have said or done before. and that's okay. it's not your job to make me live forever.

and you know, he actually made a lot of sense. so i said

okay.

i'll keep your business yours. i just

you were talking about your retirement before this. and i want that for you very much. you've worked hard for 45 years, and you deserve a break. we're getting to sick season, and it would be the saddest fucking thing in the world if you got this close to winning the race then tripped in the last ten feet.

and we sat there a few moments longer. i wasn't sure what to say, and i wasn't sure what he'd say, but eventually he just shrugged and said

yeah

then he left. i figured that would be the end of it.

---

i did front end maintenance yesterday, after being gone a week. it's one of my favorite things to do. i like working with my hands. i really like working with my hands. i'm glad i went to college, but in a different life, i think i could've made a better electrician than an electrical engineer.

and at one step, when we were both hoisting the plate back onto the machine, his sleeve rode up, and i saw two bandaids on his arm.

we finished the install, and i was ready to go back when marc actually stopped me.

i got the shot, he said, almost embarrassed. like he'd been caught. and i knew he was gonna say something dumb about it, so i just cut him off by giving him a hug.

i was relieved. hugging old men is kind of like picking up cats. if they like you a lot, they'll tolerate it, but that's about it. we sat there maybe three beats before his hands went up, and then he gave me one overly-hard thump on the back. in my experience, this is how old men tell you that they're done, so i let him go.

carla talked me into it, he said, almost defensive. his wife. his one good decision.

tell her i said thanks, i said back.

trump got the shot too, he said, less defensive, but oddly pleading. like he was consoling himself.

like he was nervous.

then it's gotta be safe, i said, and he looked up at me, strangely searching, strangely vulnerable. i don't know exactly what he was looking for, but i guess he found it because after a few moments his shoulders relaxed.

yeah, he said, one hand on the back of his head.

it's gotta be.

#babylon-lore #covid shots #work stories

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fanged-fanfics · 2 months ago

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☆ "You Can Have My Last Name" — Zaunites x GN Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: I'm pretty sure this idea is like. Everywhere by now. But people from Zaun/the Undercity don't really have surnames so plot is basically what if Reader offered up theirs. Simple and cute type stuff idk I wanted some fluff

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Viktor

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Mentioned the nature of his lack of a surname rather casually, while venting about how Piltover kept trying to say his paperwork was 'invalid' for lacking one. He explained to you that it was common for anyone in the Undercity, and that most from there didn't have one at all

ᯓᡣ𐭩 More confused than anything when you offer yours, or he at least pretends to be. The truth is the idea flustered him coming from you so casually, so to cope he acted like he didn't know what you were implying

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Thinks about it for several weeks afterwards, subconsciously mulls over how your name would sound paired with his in his mind. He writes it down a few times too, just to test it out. Finds out pretty quickly that he likes the sound of it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't miss the implications a bit, as a matter of fact she IMMEDIATELY flirts back by asking if you'd really give your precious name to any pretty face you come across

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Teases you about the idea relentlessly any time the subject of names is brought up, or in any way she can really. Often makes jokes that she's gonna make a fool out of the name

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Secretly actually very honored that you'd offer it up to her but she doesn't feel like admitting that yet, you're gonna have to deal with jokey teasing for a good while first

Jinx

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Snarkily says she wouldn't be a good fit for your name to hide the fact that she really doesn't think she deserves to be considered a part of your life

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Ohh, you might be crazy too if you're gonna give it to someone like me"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Feels kinda bad that she wouldn't have anything like that to offer you in return. She loves the idea of having a family to belong to again, but her own self doubt gets in the way of admitting that to herself

Ekko

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Oh- uh- what??"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Genuinely very caught off guard. Not at all in a bad way, he just doesn't know how to respond to such a sudden and blatant flirt. Quickly tries to think of something to say as you're chuckling and reassuring him it's okay

ᯓᡣ𐭩 He ends up telling you through his fluster that it's not really gonna bring you any good to proudly announce a Zaunite as part of your family name. But in the end, he gives you a soft smile and says it's a nice thought he isn't against

Sevika

ᯓᡣ𐭩 "Is that so?"

ᯓᡣ𐭩 More keen on the idea than you'd might think- tells you it wouldn't be such a bad idea, but you'd have to prove it's a name worth adopting first, teasingly daring you to make it a name you'd both be proud to wear

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Tells you to reconsider once or twice, but mostly because she loves seeing how determined you get when defending her right to bear your name

Silco

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Doesn't pick up on what you're implying at first at all, simply tells you that isn't how that works and you're talking nonsense

ᯓᡣ𐭩 You have to prod into the implications a little more to get him to finally register what you're actually trying to say. It takes him a moment, but when he catches on he falls silent for a while

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Ends up mildly tripping over his words while telling you he's not really someone to give such an important thing to, and that you should get a better head on your shoulders and keep focused (largely to hide the fact that the offer genuinely caught him off guard. He's never gonna stop thinking about it)

Vander

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Actually not against the idea. Seems to chuckle it off at first, but once he realizes you're being serious he fondly mulls over the idea with you while cleaning up for the night

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Recognizes the idea might not be very feasible, but hey, what's wrong with having hope? Everyone's allowed to have dreams to chase, right? No harm in chasing this one together, then

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Promises that once things are settled down enough that he'll try to make it happen with you. As long as the kids he takes in are all alright with you, of course

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simpforboys · 1 month ago

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surprise! (2)

drew starkey x fem!singer!reader

summary: reader and drew shoot the ‘perfume’ music video!

warnings: fluff, swearing, sexual themes but no real smut, kisses

‘perfume’ by del water gap

part one , part three, part four

It was bright and early on a Wednesday in December.

You had been up since six am to be on set, get costumes all organized, makeup done, hair done, and just make sure your vision was really coming along how you wanted it to.

After all, 'Perfume' was a big deal to you, now even more so due to the fact that your dream man was going to be your on-screen lover.

When Drew finally showed up at eight am, almost exactly on the dot, he was a little disorganized due to not getting as much sleep as he should have the night before.

You were talking to the director, clearly deep in the discussion as you explained your vision as best as your chaotic brain could.

"Drew is here," your manager came walking over.

Fuck.

You looked over, seeing Drew standing awkwardly by the trailers as he looked around at the film location.

It was pronounced you had chosen to do more of a countryside feel, the old farmhouse that had people constantly going in and out of it in order to set up for later scenes.

The location was beautiful, though. Grass, sand, hills, and for the actual land, it was quiet.

"Hey, good morning."

You walked over to Drew, trying to hide your pounding heart and the bags under your eyes (because, obviously, you hadn't been able to sleep the night before).

"Good morning." Drew looked at you, a small smile on his tired face.

"Are you hungry? We have breakfast and coffee over here," you guided Drew over to the food station, hands shaking with nervousness.

"Coffee sounds good, yeah." Drew murmurs, trying not to stare at you in your outfit.

You had chosen to wear blue overalls with a black long-sleeve shirt, and brown cowboy boots to fit into the countryside vibe you were going for.

"Sorry, I barely slept last night."

Drew shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"No, you're good. You just... look good."

Your eyes widened slightly at his compliment, your face feeling hot. God, why did he have to be fucking sweet?

"I don't normally wear this shit," you tried to deflect off of it and make a joke.

Drew smiled, shaking his head softly as he took a sip of the hot coffee.

"I'm assuming we're going to be cowboys?" He teased.

You shrug, a small smirk curling onto your lips.

"I couldn't pass up the opportunity to give everyone cowboy Drew." You joked back, instantly feeling a little embarrassed.

Being hyperaware and anxious was absolutely not helping anything about any and all interactions with him.

"Okay, so you're welcome to help yourself to anything. I have to film some solo shots, but probably in around thirty to forty-five minutes, the costume lady will come to get you."

You spoke, avoiding looking at him.

Drew hummed, watching you get all nervous and embarrassed. As much as he wanted to reassure you that you were fine, he couldn't deny how amusing it was to see you get all shy around him.

"Thank you," he murmured.

While you went off to shoot some solo stuff, Drew was in the trailer as the ladies gave him some makeup and fixed his short hair.

You wanted him to wear blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a plain white shirt that had some dirt on it to make the appearance that he had been working outside.

By the time Drew was dismissed, you were finishing up filming. Staring at the footage that was just shot, your song playing in the background as you stood around the property or lip sung.

Glancing over and seeing Drew in the damn outfit you picked made your heart physically flutter.

He looked good.

You would definitely be feeding his fans (and yourself) content.

“How do I look?” He walked over to you, a small smirk on his face.

“Good… yeah, uh, good. Exactly how I envisioned.”

Why the fuck were you so nervous? Why the fuck was he so handsome and intimidating?

He hummed, wanting to tease you a little more before the director cut in.

“Okay, so you two are going to be sitting in the truck. Drew will be driving with Y/n in the passenger seat. When I say ‘go’, I want Drew to slowly reach over and hold her hand. Look at each other with soft, warm, loving eyes.”

The director says. The two of you nod in agreement, getting into the truck.

Drew placed his hands on the wheel as you looked out the window. The filming location was genuinely so pretty, and you were very pleased with your decision.

The camera man slid into the backseat with the big camera, making sure the angles would all be right.

“Okay, three, two, one… action!”

You continue to stare out the window as Drew drives the truck along the grassy pathway, ‘Perfume’ playing in the background.

And I'm picturing you right now, I'm thinking of you right now

You tried not to have your breath hitch when you felt his large, warm hand grab yours and intertwine your fingers.

Glancing over at him, your eyes met his gorgeous blue ones, a genuine look of affection filling your gaze, mirroring his.

But his was probably fake, he’s an actor after all.

Drew gave you a soft smile, which caused a small grin to curl onto your lips.

“And cut!”

‘Perfume’ cut off, but you were hyperaware of the way Drew didn’t immediately pull his hand from your’s.

In fact, you were the first to pull away, nearly shitting your pants at the way your hand tingled.

Drew cut the engine of the car, the director coming to the passenger side window as he leaned against it.

“That was really good, you could feel the tension in the gaze. For the next shot, we want Drew to get out of the car with Y/n to follow. Outside the car, start walking up towards the house, when Drew is going to place his hand on your waist and pull you towards him. Share a passionate kiss, and press her against the door.” The director said.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

“Sounds good,” Drew hums, glancing briefly at you.

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your face felt warm as you nodded in agreement.

‘Perfume’ started playing in the background again, the next scene about to start.

“Okay… three, two, one… action!”

'Cause I wanna do all of the things, baby, I said I wanna do with you… 'Less this is a lie and I don't know myself like I thought…

Wait, this is a mess, I could be wrong, I could be so damn mistaken

Both you and Drew got out of the car, a sheepish smile on both of your faces as you start walking towards the house.

Your heart stammered in your chest when you both stepped onto the porch and his large hand snaked around your waist, tugging you firmly into him.

He dipped his head down, capturing your lips.

You were kissing Drew fucking Starkey.

Immediately, you both melted into the kiss. Your hands were on his jaw and the back of his neck, his other hand going to rest on your lower back, just on top of your ass.

Drew almost forgot where he was for a minute as he slipped his tongue into your warm mouth.

He pressed your back against the front door of the house, you pulling him down so his body is flush against yours.

Fuck.

You were both thinking it.

“And, cut!” The director called.

You were both so raptured into the kiss neither of you heard it immediately.

“Cut!” The director called again, trying to hide his snicker.

Drew slowly pulled his lips away from you, his hands sliding off your body, making you feel cold.

“Sorry,” he murmured. His blue eyes bore into yours.

“You two take five, we needa get the bedroom all ready for the next shot,” the director said.

You moved away from the door to sit on the front patio furniture of the house. Your lips were tingling, mind racing at the thought that you just made out with your celebrity crush.

Drew looked sheepish and a little embarrassed that he let himself get so into a kiss. It was definitely a first for him.

“You want a water or anything?” Drew asked you.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Thank you,” you swallowed. You were still feeling a little breathless from what just happened.

By the time Drew came back with your water, the director had also returned.

Both you and Drew followed the man into the back bedroom of the old farmhouse. It was bare, with the basic furniture of a wardrobe, bed, and nightstands.

You wanted it to be basic, you wanted it to add the detail into the story you were trying to convey.

"So, we're going to set the camera up right at this angle. Drew push Y/n back onto the bed and climb on top of her, still kissing. Only break the kiss so you can both pull your shirts off. Then we're going to cut it into a birds-eye view. Sound good for now?" The director hums.

Oh. Drew was going to see you in your bra.

You might have forgotten about that when you came up with ideas for the music video.

Drew nods, his eyes flickering over to yours, meeting your gaze before you both quickly look away. Why was he so nervous?

He had seen boobs, he had seen women in bras. Maybe it was the fact that he was going to see yours was driving him a little crazy, making him forget all about his professional side for a moment.

You unbuttoned your overalls at the top so it would be easier to pull your shirt off for the scene.

"Three, two, one... action!"

But I'm picturing you right now, I'm thinking of you right now, I'm picturing you right now

With nothing on, with nothing on but my perfume

The familiar beat of your song and lyrics came on, but you paid absolutely no attention to it when Drew kissed you again.

He flopped you back onto the bed, your body bouncing slightly. But neither of you dared to disconnect your lips, his tongue slipping in your mouth yet again.

A very small, faint whine left your throat when he pulled away to tug his shirt off. No fucking way you just did that.

Unbeknownst to you, the small whine made Drew's entire body go rigid. His mind was starting to drift into what you would sound like actually in bed.

You arched your back up, trying to remember that there was a giant camera on you both. You pulled your black long-sleeve up and over your head, eyes staring up at Drew.

The way his pupils dilated more, that gorgeous blue swirling into a deep sea color. Fuck. You were both ruined.

He immediately connected your lips back to his, both your minds a state of pure need. But before anything else could happen--

"Cut!"

The word "cut" was starting to become your least favorite thing in the entire world. Drew pulled back, still hovering over you.

You finally let your eyes drift down to his bare torso, seeing those abs for the first time in person. But he wasn't the only one.

He tried so hard not to look, to be a gentleman, to be professional. But he felt his gaze slip down to you lying there in your bra, his mouth growing a little wetter.

"Y/n, spread your legs and let Drew lay in between them. When we say action, Drew start thrusting your hips as if you two are having sex. We'll keep the birds-eye view so it gives off the appearance that you two actually are."

As the director gives his next instructions, a set designer fixes the sheet to rest around Drew's hips, covering up the fact that you are both still wearing pants.

All you and Drew could do was nod. It wasn't really safe to speak, not when the sexual tension and chemistry between you two was so high.

Drew had filmed sex scenes before, it was a part of his job. But fuck. You were driving him insane, and you were barely even speaking.

You spread your legs as Drew shifted closer to you, trying to look anywhere but at your chest and face.

"Three, two, one... action!"

Call me in the morning, beg me in the night, I'll be over safely if you need it anytime

I'm picturing you right now, with nothing on, with nothing on but my perfume

He had begun to softly move his hips, his mouth instinctively attaching to your jaw, kissing down to your neck. Your hands dug into his broad shoulders and back, trying desperately not to let out a real moan.

Your eyes were fluttered shut, legs tightening a little more around him. There was no real pleasure being shared, but both your bodies were on autopilot, as if you were actually having sex.

It was the hottest either of you had ever felt.

The day continued on, with both you and Drew filming more romantic scenes. It was very surreal that this was all pretend because, at some points, it felt real.

The last scene was finally shot and everyone cheered with applause, happy the hard work and long day is over.

You were changing out of your film clothes and back into the sweatpants and hoodie you wore to set at six am this morning.

Drew had also changed, putting on his jeans and jacket.

You were going around and sincerely thanking every single person for their contribution and hard work, the last person finally being Drew.

Your eyes locked onto each other, a small smile creeping onto both your faces.

"Thank you so much, Drew, seriously. I couldn't have done this without you," you told him.

Drew shrugged nonchalantly, but he seemed a little sheepish at your genuine words.

"No, thank you. I had a lot of fun today, you were a lot of fun to film with." Drew replies, a warm look in his gaze.

He pulled you into another hug, your face pressed into him, arms wrapped tightly around each other.

"I hope this isn't the last time you see me," Drew murmurs in your ear.

Goosebumps erupted all over your skin, the moment reeling in your mind as you thought about when he hugged you and murmured how much he loved your song on Jimmy Fallon.

"It won't be, I promise."

You finally pulled away, a little reluctantly. You didn't wanna scare him off by holding him for too long.

"I'll eventually send you photo stills and snippets to post for promotion, but I don't want you to feel like you have to post anything or a shit-ton of stuff. I know you're busy," you tell him.

Drew shook his head. "Nah, I'll post them. Promise."

You nodded softly, a little grin on your face.

"Alright, Y/n. I'll see you around," Drew hums.

You watched as he walked away, a warm feeling in your chest.

You had finally returned home after the long day. After showering, changing into pajamas, and feeding yourself, you slide into your warm bed.

Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, your heart jumped when you read one Instagram notification in particular.

@/drewstarkey has messaged you

You quickly opened the notification, a smile on your face.

Drew Starkey: Just wanted to thank you again for the opportunity today. Had more fun than I should have

Your User: Ofc!! Maybe when the music video drops we can celebrate together :3

Fuck. Your thumb pressed send before you could double-think that message.

Drew Starkey: I like the sound of that

Oh.

tags!!

@slut4you @sweetlike-sugarplum @snowtargaryen @fastlovela @christinechickiee @ahgrace6 @evermorx89 @loren8818181 @eddiemuns0nl0ver @sophiesmovingcastle5 @chimchimjiminie16 @amel1ee @reader1402 @tqd4455 @rxeae @caraxes-syrax @shrimpybbq @drewstarkeysbabe @rafeswhoooreee @meropeeonmee @rafeluvrr @marvelahsobx @raeven-marie43 @fallout-girl219 @brendazzlingg @10ava01 @secretsideofbree @drewstarrrkey @p0gue420 @gibson-g1rl @kiiyomei @spiderstyles04 @sexualparkour @vinaluvsu @domainexpandme @mariadu2 @toterry @taliawz @always-reading @angvl3tears @iloveoldermenn @aesthetic-lyss @lover-girl-estxx @cadhlabear

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hanniewho · 1 month ago

Text

⋆˚࿔ Vivid Dreams𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ Summary: You told your roommate about your vivid dreams, but now you don't think it's a dream anymore.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Notes: I'm sorry for not posting for a few days. I got caught up with my graphic design project, and I had to walk around the city to take pictures, and my feet are killing me. I'll answer some of you guys' request ASAP 🙏

𐙚˙✧˖° Words: 6.0k

༘ ⋆｡ ˚ Warnings: Noncon, Creampie, Overstimulating, Fingering, Degrading, Name calling (slut), P in V, Squirting, Slapping, Slight choking in you squint, Manipulation, Telling her that you love her as she fuck you w/o your consent, Porn mentioned, Spitting. (Lmk if I miss anything :3)

⋆✦ Pairings:Pitfighter g!p Vi x Afab reader and a bit of jinx(your roomie)

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

"You know, I've had the strangest dream again," you murmured, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Your roommate, Jinx, barely glanced up from her book, a non-committal "Mm-hmm" her only response as she flipped a page.

"It's always the same, you know? This...this woman with the most piercing eyes I've ever seen. She's powerful, dangerous even. And she keeps telling me things I don't understand." You paused, watching Jinx's reaction, hoping for something, anything that suggested she was actually listening. But her gaze remained glued to the book in front of her.

"Jinx, are you even listening to me?" you sighed, a hint of frustration tinting your voice.

Your roommate, Jinx, looked up from her book with a sheepish grin, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Huh? Oh, sorry, I zoned out for a sec. What were you saying?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but return the smile. "It's fine," you said, standing up from your bed. "It's probably just my mind playing tricks on me anyway." You walked over to the small kitchenette and began rummaging through the cabinets for a snack to curb the early morning hunger pangs. The apartment was silent except for the faint rustle of pages turning as Jinx went back to her book.

As you pulled out a box of crackers, she looked up, suddenly alert. "Oh, uh, hey, have you had someone over last night?" she asked, her tone casual but the curiosity in her eyes unmistakable.

You froze mid-reach, crackers in hand, and turned to face her. "What? No, why?"

Jinx's cheeks flushed a vibrant shade of red as she hastily closed her book. "Well, uh, it's going to be awkward, but last night when I was fixing my gun, I heard some... sounds coming from your room." She paused, searching for the right words, then blurted out, "It sounded like you were having sex, or I- ARE YOU WATCHING PORN?" The accusation hung in the air, awkwardness thickening like smoke in a closed room.

You stared at her, crackers forgotten in your hand. "What? No, I was just sleeping!" you protested, feeling your own cheeks grow hot. "What makes you think that?"

Jinx bit her lip, her eyes narrowing as she studied you. "Well, it's not every night I hear someone going 'plap, plap, plap' in there," she said, mimicking the sound with a teasing smirk. "It's like someone's slapping a fish around or something."

You furrowed your brows, utterly confused by her accusation. "Jinx, I was alone. I swear," you said, your voice firm. "It's probably just the pipes or something." But even as you said it, doubt began to creep in. The dream had felt so real, so vivid. Could it be more than just your subconscious playing tricks on you?

Jinx's smirk faltered, and she leaned back in her chair, eyeing you skeptically. "You sure?" she pressed, her curiosity not quite satisfied.

You nodded, setting the crackers on the counter. "Positive," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. "I was just sleeping." But the memory of the dream washed over you again, the feeling of fullness and the sound of your own voice crying out in pleasure echoing in your mind. It had been so intense, so real, that you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just a vivid fantasy.

Jinx leaned back in her chair, her curiosity piqued. She tapped her chin with a finger, her eyes drifting off into the distance as if piecing together a puzzle. "So, about your dreams," she began, pausing to gauge your reaction. "What really happened?"

You turned to face her, the memory of the dream still lingering in your mind. The woman from your dream, her eyes so intense and filled with passion, had felt so real. "It's nothing," you replied, trying to brush it off, but your voice betrayed you, shaky and uncertain.

Jinx's eyes searched yours, and she leaned forward, placing her book aside. "Look, if something's going on, you can tell me," she said gently. "You know I'm not going to judge."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the secret pressing down on you. "It's just...it's so weird. In the dream, she was...doing things to me," you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. "And it didn't feel wrong, or scary. It just felt...good."

Jinx's gaze softened, and she reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. Dreams are just that - dreams," she assured you, her voice soothing. "But if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you."

You took a deep breath, weighing your options. You hadn't told anyone about the dreams, not even your closest friends. But there was something about Jinx that made you feel like you could trust her with the darkest of your secrets. So, you decided to take a risk and opened up. You recounted the dream in detail, the way the mysterious woman had taken you in her arms, the sound of her breath against your neck, the feeling of her hips grinding against yours. Jinx's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't interrupt, just nodded along, listening intently.

When you finished, you felt both relieved and embarrassed. You avoided eye contact, focusing instead on the crackers you hadn't realized you were still holding. "It's just so... intense," you murmured, fidgeting with the box. "I don't even know who she is, and yet she's all I can think about."

Jinx was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then she leaned in, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Well, what does she look like?" she asked, a playful lilt to her voice.

You described the woman from your dream: her short, spiky hair, the muscular physique that spoke of strength and agility, and the piercing gaze that had you feeling both vulnerable and safe. As you talked, Jinx's expression grew thoughtful. "Hmm," she murmured, her eyes lighting up with an idea. "I might know someone who fits that description."

Her words sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you turned to face her fully. "What? Who?"

Jinx's grin grew wider as she leaned back in her chair. "My sister," she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Vi. She's got that same look in her eyes when she's... concentrating. And she's definitely got the moves."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Vi. The woman from your dreams had the same name as Jinx's sister? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? "Vi?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Your sister?"

Jinx nodded, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Yeah, you know, the one who's always breaking down doors and causing a ruckus?"

You felt your cheeks flush hotter. "I-I don't know what to say."

Jinx leaned forward, her grin morphing into a smug smirk. "Well, if you're that interested, I might be able to arrange a meeting."

You stared at her, your heart racing. "What? No, I didn't mean..." You trailed off, your thoughts tangling in a mess of excitement and anxiety. "It's just that the dreams are so intense," you protested weakly.

Jinx's smirk grew knowing. "Intense, huh?" she said, her tone teasing. "Well, if you're ever curious about the real deal, you know where to find her. But maybe you should tell her you're a fan first."

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "I don't know if I could handle that. Besides, it's just a dream," you said, trying to convince yourself more than anything. But the way Jinx's eyes gleamed with mischief had you wondering if there was more to the story.

Jinx shrugged, picking her book back up. "Suit yourself," she said, her tone light. "But if you ever change your mind, just let me know."

The rest of the day was a blur. You couldn't concentrate on your classes or your studies, your mind a tumult of thoughts and sensations from the dream. Was it possible that Vi, the woman from your dreams, was actually Jinx's sister? And if so, what did that mean? Was your subconscious playing a cruel trick on you, or was there some deeper connection at play?

That evening, as you lay in bed trying to fall asleep, the memory of Vi's powerful embrace consumed you. You felt the ache between your legs, the same ache that had been present every time you woke up from the dream. It was maddening, and yet you couldn't ignore it. The desire grew stronger, and before you knew it, your hand was moving under the covers, exploring the wetness that had gathered there.

You opened your eyes to the darkness of your room, the sound of your own breathing echoing in your ears. The dream had been so vivid, you could almost feel the weight of Vi's body on top of you, her strong thighs pressing into yours as she moved in a rhythm that was both fierce and tender. The sensation grew more intense with each passing moment, your hips bucking against the pressure of your hand.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with light, and you gasped as the figure from your dreams leaned down and kissed you hard. "Oh fuck, you're awake," she murmured against your lips, her voice a gruff whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. It was Vi, just as you had imagined, her short hair a wild mess around her face, her eyes glinting with a mix of surprise and desire.

You stared up at her, heart pounding in your chest. This couldn't be real, could it? You tried to speak, to ask what was happening, but all that came out was a strangled sound. Vi pulled back, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "You okay?" she asked, her voice softer now.

You nodded, still unable to form coherent words. She was really here, in your room, her body pressing down on yours, her cock still inside you. You felt a mix of fear and excitement, unsure how to react.

Vi studied you for a moment before a slow, knowing smile spread across her face. "I see," she murmured, her eyes darkening. "You liked it, didn't you?"

Your body seemed to respond of its own accord, your hips moving slightly, the friction of her cock still buried inside you sending waves of pleasure through your body. You couldn't deny it, not with the evidence of your own arousal so clear. "I-I don't know," you stuttered, but the words lacked conviction.

Vi leaned closer, her breath warm against your cheek. "Lie to me again, and I'll make sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow," she whispered, a hint of a threat in her voice that only served to excite you further. Her hand slid down your body, cupping your ass and squeezing gently. You gasped, your eyes widening with surprise.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks - this wasn't a dream. This was really happening. You felt the weight of her body pressing down on you, the solidity of her cock still embedded deep inside you. The smell of sweat and sex filled the air, and you could feel your own wetness mixing with hers.

Vi took your silence as consent, her smile growing more wicked. "Good," she murmured, and began to move again, her hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips as she filled you up, the sensation of being claimed by someone so strong and dominant overwhelming.

Her hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and crevice with a hunger that was palpable. Each touch sent sparks of electricity through your nerves, making you squirm and gasp beneath her. You felt vulnerable and exposed, but instead of fear, a heady mix of desire and excitement took over.

Vi's eyes bore into yours, the intensity of her gaze stealing your breath away. "You're so fucking beautiful," she murmured, her voice a gravelly growl that resonated deep within you. The way she said it, it didn't feel like a lie or a line; it felt like a truth she had discovered and couldn't help but voice.

Your body responded to her words, your muscles tightening around her cock. She groaned, her grip on your hips tightening as she pushed deeper, her movements becoming more urgent. You felt a thrill of power, knowing that you had this effect on her, this powerful, almost mythic figure from your dreams.

Her hand slid up your body to cup your breast, her thumb flicking over your nipple. You arched into the touch, the pleasure shooting straight to your core. Vi's eyes never left yours, watching your every reaction with a hunger that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

As she picked up the pace, you felt your orgasm building, the pressure growing with each thrust. You bit your bottom lip to keep from screaming, the intensity of the sensations threatening to overwhelm you. You could feel her own need, the tension in her body as she held back, drawing out the moment.

Your hands clutched at the bedsheets, your nails digging into the fabric as you tried to anchor yourself to reality. But it was no use; you were lost in the haze of pleasure that Vi was creating. Her movements grew more erratic, her breathing ragged as she approached her climax.

You felt your own orgasm building, the tension coiling tightly in your stomach. You didn't know if you could handle this, didn't know if you wanted to. But your body had a mind of its own, responding to her touch like it had been starved for it.

Her hand slid down to the juncture of your thighs, her fingers finding your clit and beginning to rub it in a rhythm that matched the pounding of her cock. You gasped, your eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure grew too intense to bear. You could feel your muscles clench around her, desperately trying to hold onto the sensation, to keep her inside you forever.

Vi's movements grew more frenzied, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck," she muttered, her voice strained. "You're so tight, so wet." The words only served to fuel your desire, and you found yourself bucking your hips up to meet her thrusts, your body begging for more.

The sound of your skin slapping against hers filled the room, a cacophony of pleasure that seemed to resonate in your very bones. You could feel your orgasm approaching, a storm of sensation building inside you, ready to break.

Vi's hand on your clit was like a masterful conductor, guiding you closer and closer to the edge. Each stroke was precise, each touch a masterpiece of pleasure that had your toes curling and your back arching. Her teeth grazed your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and you knew you were moments away from the most powerful climax of your life.

Your body tensed, muscles coiling like a spring ready to release. With one final, deep thrust, Vi sent you over the edge, and you screamed out her name, the sound muffled by the pillow you had shoved into your mouth to stifle the noise. The pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing around her, clenching her cock like a vice.

Vi's own orgasm followed closely behind, her hips bucking wildly as she filled you with her release. You could feel the heat of her seed inside you, a strange, primal sensation that only added to the intensity of the moment. Her breathing was harsh and ragged in your ear, and you realized with a start that she was whispering your name, her voice filled with a raw emotion that didn't quite match the cold, calculating demeanor she usually had.

As your body began to relax, she leaned back, her eyes never leaving yours. With a sudden movement, she pulled out of you, making you gasp with the sudden emptiness. Before you could react, she brought her hand down in a harsh slap across your pussy, the sound echoing in the silent room. Your eyes snapped open, and you jolted at the unexpected pain and pleasure that shot through you.

Vi smirked, watching the shock play out across your face. "You liked that, didn't you?" she taunted, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and arousal.

Her hand hovered over your sensitive flesh, and you held your breath, waiting for the next slap. "I said, did you like it?" she pressed, her voice low and demanding.

You nodded, unable to form the words. The sting of her hand had sent a jolt of pleasure through you that was almost unbearable. You felt your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and desire.

"So, you liked that, huh?" Vi's smirk grew wider as she watched you squirm beneath her. She slapped your pussy once more, this time a bit harder, and you gasped aloud. "You're going to get used to this," she murmured, her voice a dark promise. "Being used like a cumdump by a girl you never even knew existed."

Your eyes watered from the pain, but the ache between your legs grew stronger. You felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, knowing that she had taken you without your consent but finding yourself desperate for more. "Vi," you whimpered, not knowing what else to say.

"That's right," she said, her voice low and smoky. "Call me by name, let me know who owns you now." Her hand moved to grip your jaw, tilting your head up to look at her. "Open your mouth, pretty girl," she ordered, her eyes gleaming with a dark excitement.

You obeyed, your mouth opening slightly, unsure of what was to come. Vi leaned down, her spit glistening in the soft light of the moon filtering through the curtains. With a flick of her tongue, she sent a wad of saliva into your mouth, watching as you closed your lips around it. The taste was surprisingly warm, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Swallow," she demanded, her grip on your chin firm. You did as you were told, the act strangely intimate and degrading all at once. Her saliva slid down your throat, leaving a trail of wetness that seemed to echo the wetness between your legs. Vi's eyes never left yours, her gaze a mix of challenge and triumph.

The reality of what had just happened began to sink in. You had been taken by your roommate's sister, a woman you had only ever dreamt about, while you were unconscious. It was a violation, a betrayal, and yet your body sang with satisfaction. You were torn between anger and a desperate need for more.

Vi leaned down, her breath hot against your ear. "You want me to stop?" she whispered, her voice a dark caress. You hesitated, the words on the tip of your tongue, but the truth was that you didn't. You were scared, yes, but also unbearably turned on. You bit your lip and shook your head, and Vi's grip tightened. "Good," she murmured, her teeth grazing your earlobe. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

With that, she slammed back into you, her cock filling you completely. You couldn't help but moan, the feeling of being stretched to your limits sending shivers down your spine. Your nails dug into the bedsheets as she began to fuck you with a ferocity that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room.

Your thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and lust. You had never experienced anything like this before, and yet you found yourself craving it, your body moving in time with hers as if you had been doing this for years. You felt like a ragdoll in her powerful grip, utterly at her mercy.

Vi's hips ground into you, her movements unrelenting as she claimed your body over and over again. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your core, making your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to process the sensations, but all you could do was feel. Feel her, inside you, dominating you.

Her hand found your throat, her thumb pressing against your pulse. "Look at me," she whispered, her voice a hoarse demand. You opened your eyes, meeting her intense gaze as she continued to fuck you, her thumb moving in slow, deliberate circles against your skin. The intimacy of the gesture was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the roughness of her movements.

The pleasure grew, a crescendo of sensation that you couldn't fight. You felt the beginnings of another orgasm building, and you whimpered, your body desperately seeking release. Vi's eyes never left yours as she drove you closer to the edge, her own breathing growing heavier, her strokes more erratic.

Her thumb pressed harder against your throat, and the sudden rush of fear only heightened the pleasure. You could feel your heart racing, your body responding to the mix of pain and pleasure in a way that was almost primal. "Beg for it," she growled, her voice thick with need. "Tell me you want it."

Your voice was hoarse from the gag of pleasure, but you managed to force out the words. "Please," you whimpered, "I want it."

Vi's grin grew wider, the power in her gaze never wavering. "Good girl," she purred, her hand tightening around your neck, the pressure just shy of painful. "You're going to come for me now."

Her words were a command, and your body obeyed. You felt the orgasm crest over you like a wave, your muscles clenching around her cock as you were consumed by the most intense pleasure you had ever felt. Your eyes rolled back in your head, a keening cry escaping your lips as you shuddered beneath her, the sensation of her thumb on your throat only amplifying the intensity.

As the climax washed over you, you felt a sudden gush of wetness, your body squirting out a warm jet that soaked the bedsheets and made Vi gasp in surprise. She stilled for a moment, her eyes going wide before a grin of pure satisfaction spread across her face. "Fuck," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "You really are something else."

You lay there, panting and trembling, the aftershocks of pleasure still rolling through you. Vi leaned down, her breath warm against your neck, and whispered, "I'm not done with you yet." Her teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Her hand left your throat and slid down to your clit, her fingers beginning to rub it in a slow, teasing circle.

You moaned, your body already responding despite the fear and confusion clouding your mind. "No," you managed to gasp out, pushing feebly at her chest. "It's too much, I can't..."

Vi just chuckled, the sound low and dark. "You think I care?" she murmured, her eyes glinting with a sadistic excitement. She slapped your pussy again, harder this time. "I didn't ask if you could take it," she said, her voice a harsh whisper. "I'm going to use you until I'm satisfied, and you're going to take it all."

You whimpered, your body already beginning to respond to the mix of pain and pleasure. It was wrong, you knew it was wrong, but you couldn't help the way your hips lifted to meet her hand, the way your breath hitched in anticipation of the next blow.

Vi's grin grew, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "That's it," she murmured, her voice a dark purr. "You're going to be such a good little slut for me." She slapped you again, the pain making your vision swim before pleasure flooded your senses, your body arching off the bed.

Her fingers slid back inside you, pumping in and out with a rhythm that was relentless and punishing. You could feel her knuckles brushing against your clit with each thrust, sending sparks of sensation shooting through your body. You moaned, the sound muffled by the pillow still pressed to your face.

As the pleasure mounted, you felt something inside you snap. The words you had held back for so long, the words you never thought you'd say to someone like Vi, tumbled out of your mouth. "I love you," you whimpered, the confession weak and pathetic.

Vi's movements stuttered, her eyes widening with shock. For a brief moment, she seemed to freeze above you, the hand that had been so brutally claiming you going still. Then, she leaned down, her voice a low rumble. "What did you say?"

You repeated the words, your voice stronger now, though still a whisper. "I love you, Vi." It was the truth, and you didn't know why it was, but it was as clear to you as the moon outside your window. The woman who had just violated you in the most intimate way possible had somehow stolen your heart in the process.

Vi's expression softened, her eyes searching yours for a sign of deception. But all she found was raw, desperate need. Her hand stilled on your clit, her cock still buried inside you. "You don't know what you're saying," she murmured, though there was something in her tone that suggested she wasn't entirely convinced.

You shook your head, the tears of pleasure blurring your vision. "I do," you insisted, your voice a broken whisper. "I love you, Vi. I don't know why, but I do."

Vi stared at you for a moment longer, her eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt or fear. But all she saw was the truth of your words, reflected back at her in your glassy gaze. With a groan that was almost a growl, she leaned down and claimed your mouth with hers, her kiss brutal and possessive.

Her tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the sweetness of your submission as she began to fuck you once more. Each stroke was deep and hard, a declaration of ownership that resonated through your very soul. You moaned into the kiss, your body responding eagerly to her touch.

Vi's hand slid down to cup your ass, lifting you up to meet her thrusts. The angle was perfect, sending her cock deeper with each powerful push. You felt the head of her cock brush against your g-spot, the sensation making your eyes roll back in your head. "Mine," she growled against your lips, claiming you in every way possible.

Your legs wrapped around her waist, holding her tight as she ravaged you. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, punctuated by your moans and her grunts of effort. It was a symphony of lust and dominance that you never wanted to end.

You gripped the headboard tightly, the wood digging into your palms as you tried to hold on to something, anything, in the face of the overwhelming pleasure. Each time she drove into you, you felt like you were being split apart, only to be put back together with a new piece of her embedded deep within you.

Her hand left your ass to wrap around your throat again, the pressure increasing slightly as she pulled back, only to slam into you with even more force. You could feel her getting closer to her own release, her body tensing and her breathing growing ragged.

With a whine of desperation, you reached up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from your throat and instead guiding it to your chest. You needed more, something to anchor you to the world as your body was lost in the maelstrom of pleasure she was creating.

Vi's hand complied, cupping one of your breasts roughly. You moaned into her mouth, feeling her palm against your sensitive flesh, the calloused pads of her fingers grazing your nipple. The feeling was almost too much, your body already on the edge of another orgasm.

With a growl, she broke the kiss, moving her mouth down to your neck. She bit down, hard enough to leave a bruise, and you couldn't help the whine that escaped your throat. She soothed the sting with a flick of her tongue, her teeth scraping against your skin as she moved to your collarbone.

Her hand squeezed your breast, her thumb flicking your nipple in a way that sent jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You felt the pressure building again, your body responding to her every touch, her every move. It was like you were a marionette, and she held all the strings.

Vi's rhythm grew more erratic, her breathing harsher, and you knew she was close. You tightened your legs around her, pulling her deeper, silently begging for her to let go. You felt the head of her cock pulse inside you, and the pressure was too much to bear. With a scream that was muffled by the pillow, you came again, your body shaking with the force of it.

This time, the orgasm was accompanied by a gush of wetness that soaked the bed and spattered her face. Vi chuckled darkly, her hand coming down to pat your pussy gently as if she were praising a pet that had performed a trick. The sensation was strange, almost tender amidst the harshness of her fucking, and you squirted again, the warm liquid hitting her cheek and mixing with the sweat already there.

Vi's strokes grew harder, more demanding, as she neared her own climax. You could feel her cock swelling inside you, her hips slamming into yours with a force that was almost painful. Your eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure grew too intense to handle, your teeth digging into the pillow to keep from screaming.

Suddenly, she pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. You looked up to see her stroking her cock, her eyes never leaving yours. "You want me to cum inside you?" she asked, her voice a mix of challenge and temptation.

You nodded, unable to find the words to answer. Your body was on fire with need, and the idea of feeling her fill you up was almost too much to bear. Vi's eyes narrowed, and she leaned back in, lining herself up with your entrance. With one final, powerful thrust, she sank back into you, her cock pulsing as she reached her climax.

You felt the warmth of her release flood you, filling you completely. It was a strange feeling, one that was both humiliating and thrilling. Your body was no longer your own; it was hers to use and abuse as she saw fit. And as she emptied herself into you, you realized that you had never felt more alive.

Vi pulled out slowly, her cock leaving you with a wet pop. You felt the emptiness keenly, your body already missing the feeling of being filled by her. She sat back on her haunches, her chest heaving, and looked down at you with a smirk. "You're mine now," she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction.

Before you could react, she leaned down, her hand moving between your legs. You felt a finger slide into your pussy, and then she was scooping out the cum that had leaked out, her gaze never leaving yours. The act was strangely intimate, a claiming of your body's response to her. She brought her hand up to her mouth, her eyes never breaking contact as she licked the cum from her finger with a slow, deliberate motion.

"You taste so sweet," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "I can't wait to have more." The words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and anticipation. You had no idea what she had planned for you, but you knew it would be intense.

You looked up at her, trying to gather the strength to protest. "Vi, please," you gasped, your voice weak and trembling. "I can't take any more."

But Vi just smiled, a wicked glint in her eye. She leaned down, her face inches from yours, and began to pepper your cheeks with gentle kisses. Each one was like a butterfly's touch, light and feathery, a stark contrast to the brutal fucking she had just given you. She kissed your eyelids, your nose, the tip of your chin, her lips moving with a tenderness that was almost tender.

Her hand continued to play with your sensitive folds, her thumb circling your clit lazily. "You're so beautiful when you come," she whispered, her voice a soft caress. "I could watch you all night."

The gentle touch was too much, your body already overwhelmed with sensation. "Please," you begged, not sure what you were asking for. Whether you wanted her to stop or keep going, your words hung in the air, a silent plea for mercy.

Vi's eyes searched yours, the smirk slowly fading into something softer. She leaned closer, her thumb still circling your clit with a maddening gentleness. "Can I- can I kiss you?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.

For a moment, she seemed surprised, the tenderness in your voice reaching something deep within her. Her hand stilled, and she looked at you, really looked at you. Then, with a nod, she leaned in, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was gentle and searching. It was a stark contrast to the brutality of the past moments, a kiss that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken promises and dark secrets.

Your body responded instinctively, your arms wrapping around her neck, pulling her closer. You tasted the salt of her sweat, the tang of your own arousal on her mouth. It was a heady mix that only served to heighten your need for her. Vi's hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, her fingers threading through your hair as she deepened the kiss.

For a moment, you forgot about the pain, the fear, the confusion. There was only the two of you, lost in a passion that seemed to burn brighter than the sun. Your bodies melded together, moving in a silent dance that spoke of a connection that went deeper than just flesh and bone.

Vi's thumb began to move again, her gentle strokes sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You moaned into the kiss, your hips lifting to meet her hand. She broke away, her breath hot against your cheek as she whispered, "Do you want more?"

You shake your head, "I really can't." Your voice was barely audible, a soft protest against the onslaught of desire that was consuming you. But Vi was insistent, her hand moving faster, her eyes never leaving yours. "You can," she murmured, her voice a seductive purr. "You're stronger than you think."

Your breathing grew more ragged, your chest heaving as you struggled for air. The room felt like it was spinning, the pressure building inside you like a volcano ready to erupt. You could feel the blood rushing to your head, the world going dark around the edges. "Vi," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea. "I'm gonna pass out."

But she just chuckled, her eyes never leaving yours. "Not yet," she murmured, her thumb moving even faster. "I want to watch you come one more time."

Your body was on the edge, teetering between agony and ecstasy. You couldn't take it anymore, but somehow, you also couldn't get enough. Vi's thumb was a brand on your clit, her hand moving with a precision that seemed to know every secret of your body. You felt the pressure building again, a crescendo of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

"Come for me," she whispered, her voice a dark caress. "Come for me, my little slut." The words sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your core, and with a scream that you didn't recognize as your own, you did. Your body arched off the bed, your back bowing as the orgasm hit you like a freight train.

You felt yourself tightening around her hand, your pussy clenching and pulsing as you spasmed beneath her. Vi's eyes were alight with triumph and hunger, watching the show she had orchestrated with a greed that was almost palpable. She didn't stop, her thumb still working your clit as you rode the waves of pleasure.

The orgasm was unlike anything you had ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable. Your toes curled and your nails dug into the bed, the fabric tearing beneath your grip. The room was a blur of sensation, your thoughts scattered to the four winds as you lost yourself in the feeling of her hand on you.

Vi's thumb didn't relent, the steady rhythm keeping you on the edge of the cliff, unable to pull back from the precipice. Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending alight with sensation as she pushed you further than you had ever gone. "Vi," you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea. "Please, I can't."

But she just grinned, her eyes gleaming with a dark excitement. "You can," she whispered, her breath hot against your cheek. "You're going to come for me until I say stop."

Your eyes rolled back in your head, the world going fuzzy around the edges. You couldn't take much more of this, you were sure of it. Each stroke of her thumb was a brand, a mark of ownership that seared into your very soul. But as much as your body protested, it also craved more. The pleasure was an addiction, and Vi was your dealer.

Her hand was relentless, the strokes coming faster now, the pressure increasing until you thought you might shatter. You felt another orgasm building, a monster in the depths of your core that threatened to consume you. "No," you moaned, your voice weak and trembling. "Please, no more."

But Vi wasn't listening, her eyes locked onto yours, her expression one of pure, unbridled lust. She leaned down, her mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was almost gentle, a stark contrast to the roughness of her hand. You could feel her smile against your lips, the warmth of her breath mingling with your own.

The pressure built, your body a tight coil of pleasure and pain. You felt yourself slipping away, the edges of your vision going dark. "Vi," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I can't..."

But she was unrelenting, her hand moving faster, her thumb a blur against your clit. You felt yourself falling, the world around you fading into a sea of sensation. You tried to hold on, to keep your eyes open, but it was like trying to grasp at water. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, dragging you under and leaving you gasping for air.

As the pleasure consumed you, your vision went dark, the room spinning out of control. You felt yourself slipping away, the last of your strength leaving you. Your body went limp, the tension draining from your muscles as the world grew quiet. The only thing you could hear was the distant sound of your own ragged breathing.

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the uncomfortable weight of your clothes. You were fully dressed, your pajamas sticking to your sweat-soaked skin. The bedsheets beneath you were new and clean, the smell of fresh laundry filling your nose. For a moment, you wondered if it had all been a dream, a twisted nightmare that had felt all too real. But then you felt the ache between your legs, the sticky mess that was a testament to what had just transpired.

With a groan, you pushed yourself up, your muscles protesting the sudden movement. Your body was sore, a delicious reminder of the relentless pleasure Vi had wrung from you. The room was quiet, the only sound the distant echo of the city outside your window. You knew you had to face the music, had to tell Jinx what had happened. So, you took a deep breath and slowly slid off the bed.

Your legs wobbled, threatening to give out beneath you, but you managed to stay upright. Each step towards the door was a battle, your body still pulsing with the aftermath of your encounter. You didn't bother to smooth your hair or straighten your clothes; you knew that your disheveled state would be the first clue that something was amiss.

As you opened the door, the cool air of the corridor hit you like a slap in the face, jolting you fully awake. You stumbled into the hallway, leaning against the wall for support. Your heart was racing, your thoughts a chaotic jumble of lust, fear, and confusion. You had to tell someone, but who? Jinx was the only one you could trust, but how could you explain?

You could hear her laughter from the living room, the sound echoing down the hallway like a taunt. She seemed to be talking with someone, her voice a mix of amusement and something darker that you couldn't quite place. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. You had to tell her, had to make her understand what had happened.

As you stepped into the room, you saw Vi sitting on the couch, her legs sprawled out in front of her, looking as if she owned the place. Jinx sat next to her, a smug smile playing on her lips as she glanced up at you. "There you are, sleepyhead," she said, her tone mocking. "Soo, about yesterday when I told you about my sister, here she is!"

Jinx's elbow jabbed into your side, and she winked. "Well, have fun guys," she sing-songed, her voice dripping with mischief as she got up and left the room, shutting the door behind her with a snicker. You stared after her, your mind racing. What was she playing at? Did she know what Vi had done to you?

Vi looked up at you, her eyes glinting with a knowing look that sent a shiver down your spine. She had the audacity to smile, a smile that was both sweet and sinister. "Hi," she said, as if you were two strangers meeting for the first time. "Nice to finally meet you."

#ᯓᡣ𐭩han #vi arcane #vi x reader #arcane #arcane smut #arcane x you #vi x you #vi smut #dead dove do not eat

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parfaitblogs · 26 days ago

Text

hard times ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid doesn’t follow through one time, and you really hate that he has a psychology degree.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: daddy issues. shoutout to the girls with inconsistent fathers this ones for you. established relationship. readers mentioned wearing makeup, a dress and heels. rational bf!spencer reid fuck i would hate a profiler bf. word count: 1.8k a/n: not a trauma dump fic not a vent fic do not read into this fic at all don't even start to speculate on my life and where these emotions came from they're all fake made up not real make pretend. no photos no aesthetics just me, a tumblr account, and a dream for this baddie.

In all your months of dating Spencer Reid, he had never forgotten anything. Not a date, not a work event. Or, at least, he's never forgotten to call. Even when you had been so busy one week you could barely spare him more than a ten minute phone call a day, he remembered what was going on in your life enough to be there for you.

A false blanket of security draped over your relationship, is what it is now.

A blanket he seemingly had no trouble ripping off you a random Friday evening, throwing it in a fire and watching it — and your trust in him — burn into dust.

Perhaps a tad dramatic for what was happening, but you were always one for theatrics when it came to your emotions. Usually, he welcomed it. He was (abashedly) similar, after all.

Not that he was even here to welcome it.

You'd looked pretty. You'd felt pretty. Past tense, for your shoes were strewn somewhere across the floor after throwing them in frustration, and your makeup was ruined after unwelcome tears had streamed down your face an hour ago. You had been ready for a dinner date you and Spencer had scheduled in only three days ago — penciled in, for you never knew what his work schedule was going to end up being.

You're not sure how long you sat in that one spot on the couch, mind going through every single possible scenario that could've happened between the text he sent you that morning saying he was excited to go out tonight, and the lack of his appearance this evening.

The logical conclusion is that he got too busy, and he forgot. But Spencer Reid's whole thing is that he doesn't forget. Oftentimes he considers it a curse. You never really agreed with him. Until now, it seemed.

The less than logical, emotionally driven conclusion, is that he actively chose to stay at work to avoid coming home because he didn't want to see you. Or he didn't actually want to go to dinner, and he didn't know how to tell you. Or his team offered to go out and he'd rather hang out with them instead of you.

Really, the reasons are endless, and any rational conclusion was lost on you. Mind swallowing you whole as you continued to stare off into space, visibly shaking and head beginning to pound from the crying.

A glance at the clock told you it was near midnight by the time you heard the door handle rattle and twist open, tired, puffy eyes blinking to adjust to the light filtering in from the apartment hallway.

"Hey. Why're you out here? It's late. I thought you'd already be in bed," Spencer rambles absentmindedly, voice so disconnected from you it only made the ache in your chest worse. As he flicks the light on and assesses the state of the apartment, he asks, "What're your shoes doing on the floor?"

You blink a few times. Was he pretending to be dumb on purpose?

You stand on cramped legs, stretching them for the first time since you'd sat unknowingly on the couch nearly six hours ago, dress bunching around your waist. You didn't bother to fix it.

Like a switch, he clicks, his bag sliding off his shoulder and falling to the floor with a thud, realisation settling into his features.

"Our date. Oh, God, I'm so sorry, angel."

"Yeah. I'm sure," you croak, voice hoarse as you pick up your shoes pathetically in front of him, the heels clacking together as you walk towards your bedroom door.

He calls your name, and after you make no effort to return to him, you hear his feet against the wooden flooring, carrying himself to you.

You're in the ensuite, beginning to take makeup off you probably should've removed four hours ago. It was stupid hope you held on to, anyways.

"You're upset. I know. It was awful of me to forget our date," he stands in the doorway, staring at you through the mirror. Even indirectly, you can't make eye contact with him.

"You forgot," you repeat back to him, almost dumbfounded. "You forgot?"

"Forgot isn't... the best word," his fingers dig into his eyes for a split second, and you watch him think. "I got caught up at work. We had a case, then we didn't have a case, then we did, so we started looking into it, and time just... escaped. From all of us."

"Time just escaped."

Your parroting wasn't doing much to further the conversation, and you watch as Spencer averts his gaze to the floor to take a deep breath, before his eyes land back on you again.

"It isn't the best reason, I know. But it's the truth," he says.

"Uh-huh," you mumble, discarding your cotton pads stained with your makeup into the trash.

"Can you stop being evasive?" he catches your wrist before you can return to the sink. "Talk to me."

"What do you want me to say?" you ask, almost earnestly. "It's okay that you forgot, Spencer. I won't take it personally at all, and things between us are just dandy!"

"I want to know what you're actually feeling," he replies, voice flat with his irritation, before he forces himself to soften it. "I can't reassure you if all I know is that you're angry."

"Hurt. Forgotten. Disregarded. Disliked. Irritated we're doing this in our fucking bathroom."

At that, he leads you into the bedroom, turning the ensuite light off. "Forgotten and disregarded are synonyms, so I'm assuming that's what you feel the most."

"You're the psyche expert," you mumble, bitterly.

"I'm not trying to be your psyche expert," he quips, and your heart sinks. "Why're you feeling forgotten?"

You stare at him, dumbfounded, for a beat. "Because my boyfriend quite literally forgot about me?"

"I didn't forget about you—"

"—No, you're right. You just forgot about the date that you literally fucking texted me about this morning!" you snap, voice rising in a way that makes you cringe. Yet, you can't stop it. "You! Spencer Reid! Forgot!"

"Don't yell at me, please," he takes a step towards you; you take a step back.

"Why did you forget? Did you choose to? Are you pretending that you forgot about it all to save your ass?"

"No," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I didn't. I told you what happened. You're choosing not to believe me."

"How am I meant to believe that? It's a shit excuse—"

"—It's the truth—"

"—God, you can lie, Spencer! Men lie!"

He goes silent, as do you. You become trapped in an uncomfortably intense staring contest with him, as you watch his brain slowly tick over and decipher what you were saying, and come up with a response. Yours, however, splits open with your own self hatred. Disdain for what you had just said to him.

"Okay," he exhales, very slowly. "I'm going to tell you what I think, and you can tell me how right I am."

"You're going to profile me?"

He pauses. "I'm sure it'll come off that way. I'm not trying to," when you don't protest again, he continues. "I think you're less upset about the fact that I didn't come home for a date, and more about the fact that I didn't message you about it. I've not shown up for dates before. I've always contacted you prior to let you know. And I've promised I would always contact you if something came up that interfered with our plans. Ultimately, I said I would do something, and I didn't follow through. That is on me, and I'm sorry. What isn't on me, is how you're reacting. Which is childish, honey. You're acting like a petulant child, and I don't mean that as an insult, because I'm almost certain I know why."

Your silence is his cue to continue, but he pauses to collect his thoughts. Your lower lip is beginning to wobble, and he feels awful.

"You know how our childhoods affect us," he says, and the second what he's about to say to you clicks in your brain, your teeth clamp over your lip, and your eyes drop to the ground. "Reactions from parents to things we do, things others do, things they do, all builds up in our subconscious. Having a parent who didn't show up for you time and time again, built up in your subconscious. So yes, you're reacting to me not following through with something childishly. I will not take that back. But that reaction is not your fault. It's in response to a trigger, and the person in control of that emotional response is not adult you. It's the little girl who got let down by her father. I won't ever hold that against you."

Your sniffle breaks the deafening silence that follows his tangent. You allow him to envelop you into a hug, at which you break down into a fit of sobs akin to the ones from earlier.

"I hate you," you stutter out in between sobs, voice muffled by his chest.

"You can't say that while hugging me," he counters. It was true, as your hands had wrapped around his waist just seconds ago.

"I hate you," you repeat, punctuating your words with a poke to his back.

"I love you," he replies, instead. His fingers thread through your hair as he cradles your head with his other hand. "I'm sorry I didn't contact you about being busy."

You swallow the lodged sob in your throat with a hiccup. "I'm sorry I acted like a petulant child. And I'm sorry that my dad sucks."

"I'm sorry your dad sucks too," you feel him kiss the top of your head. "Have you eaten?"

"Mm-mm," you shake your head, and he pulls back, hands slipping down to your cheeks, catching the tears.

"Do you want to eat?"

"The restaurant we were going to is closed," you mumble.

"Maybe. But the Thai place isn't."

"I'm pretty sure it is," you counter, and his eyebrows furrow. "It's past midnight now."

His face falls, he waits a beat, before his hand drops to your own, and he's tugging you towards the door of the bedroom. "Okay. Fine. Well, the Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed."

"I asked for pasta last night and you said the kitchen was closed."

"You asked at three in the morning," he deadpans, as you make yourself comfortable on one of the stools.

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen is never closed," you mock his voice from earlier.

"The Spencer Reid Kitchen rules are made by Spencer Reid."

"The rules should be lenient of Spencer Reid's girlfriend."

"Do you want pasta or not?"

"Yes," you quickly say with a firm nod. "Sorry."

He spends the first hour of that Saturday making you pasta; and making up the missed date.

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