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xreader-writing · 1 month

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STILL HERE | "They're eating sushi!'

✦ Sumarry: Y/n comes to her ex-boyfriend Lando Norris' defense when he's being canceled, and Lando couldn't be happier about it.

✦ Pairing: Ex!Lando Norris X Actress!Reader. | Timothee Chalamet? 👀 | ✦ WC: 1.491

A/n: English is not my first language, forgive my spelling mistakes dear.

LAST | S.MASTERLIST | NEXT

Y/n sighed and put her phone in her pocket.

"What happened?" Her castmate Timothee asked, handing her a cup of coffee.

"As if you didn't know." She said laughing, and he smiled back, scratching the back of his neck.

"Well, but it could be another reason!" He said laughing, making her laugh even more.

Timothee looked at her and noticed her worried look.

"I read your text, it must have helped him a lot."

"Yes, but Lando is a little immature sometimes, and that makes things worse." Y/n sighs and runs her hand over her face.

"I wouldn't like being his lawyer." Timothee says making Y/n laugh.

"Thank God you act then, huh?" The two laugh and stay silent for a moment.

"Don't think too much about it, he has to deal with the consequences, I would say you've already done too much for him., none of my ex-girlfriends ever wrote me a cute text like that when I got canceled." Timothee says laughing and Y/n laughs more.

"Oh, poor him." She says, squeezing Timothee's cheek with her free hand.

"But seriously, I bet he's completely crazy about you right now." He says, raising his eyebrows and Y/n rolls her eyes.

"WHERE ARE MY TWO PROTAGONISTS?!" They hear the director yell, and Timothee whimpering covering his face with his hands.

"For the love of God, I just want a break!" he pretends to cry and Y/n rolls her eyes pulling his hand away.

And Timothee was completely right, Lando was checking his phone every 30 seconds to see if there were any messages from his ex-girlfriend.

"Stop checking your fucking phone Lando, her not going to call." Carlos said, patting Lando on the shoulder.

The pilots were all together on a "guys' night", but Lando couldn't keep his head there.

"Yeah, she was really nice to make that Instagram post for you." Charles says sitting next to Lando.

"Sorry, I'm lost." Max says trying to make sense of the matter.

"Didn't you see? They're canceling Lando." Charles says pushing Lando's shoulder.

"He seems pretty happy for someone who's being canceled."

"That's because Y/n made a post on Instagram defending him." Carlos says and Lando smiles as he remembers.

"Y/n? Your ex-girlfriend?" Max asks, still a little confused.

"That's her." "But you don't think she wants to get back with you just because of that, do you?" Pierre says, breaking Lando's smile.

"Why else would she do that?" Lando says a little louder now and Pierre scoffs.

"She might be completely over you, which is why she doesn't feel uncomfortable doing it." He shrugs, irritating Lando.

"That doesn't make sense..."

"Actually, it kind of does." George says thoughtfully.

"Why did you guys break up?" Oscar asks, and Carlos scoffs, taking another sip of his beer.

"I broke up with her." This gets Pierre's attention.

"Why would you do something crazy like that?" Pierre asks, laughing.

"Because... Iwantedtoenjoy." Lando says this so quietly and quickly that the pilots look at each other in doubt.

"You wanted to what?" Chales asks and Lando covers his face with his hands.

"I wanted to have fun, but I couldn't do that if I was dating."

When he finishes, there is silence in the middle of it, and wide eyes towards Lando.

"If you broke up with her, why the fuck do you want to get back together?" Pierre asks indignantly.

"Okay, let me get this straight, you broke up with your girlfriend of two years because you wanted to be with everyone until you caught a sexually transmitted disease?" George says and Carlos laughs.

"No, look, I don't know, I just wanted to have fun, okay?"

"Oh, I would have had a lot of fun if I was dating her." Pierre says laughing, making the others laugh along.

"Fuck you!" He says, getting up from the couch and heading to the kitchen to get some water.

"Wait Lando, it was a joke!" Pierre says laughing but Lando gives him the middle finger.

"Was it a joke Pierre?" Charles asks

"No" Pierre says laughing

Lando finds a bottle of water and leans against the counter, drinking it and checking Instagram.

He never unfollowed her, and she never unfollowed him, like she said, they remain friends. In fact, she has always been much more mature than him, and he remembers how she reacted to the breakup like it was yesterday.

—

"It's not you, okay? It's me." Y/n sighs and massages her temple.

"Lando, I know it's not me, and it's okay that you don't want to be with me, I just need to know why, that's all."

"I want to have fun, I want to go out with guys without having to worry about someone else holding me back." Y/n scoffs at that.

"I never stopped you from going out with your friends."

"I know, but you end up getting in my way."

"You end up getting in my way." That's what he said to the woman who put up with him day and night.

"That's right Lando, if I'm just a stone in your way, I better go." Y/n says this with an expression that leaves Lando upside down, Y/n has always been very reserved when it comes to feelings.

"I don't want to lose your friendship Y/n." Lando says as soon as she turns her back. She sighs and looks at him smiling.

"You're not going, you can count on me if you need anything."

And yes, he did and she was there, just like she said she would be.

—

Lando went on Y/n's Instagram for the tenth time that day, maybe to read her text again, or to see if there was a new post or story from her, he doesn't really know.

He just wanted some kind of update, that's all.

He feels his heart beat faster when he sees that there was a new story from her, but before he can press the photo icon, a hand squeezes his shoulder making Lando almost drop his phone.

"Damn Carlos, what a scare." Lando says, dropping the water bottle and putting his hand on his chest.

"You weren't upset, were you? You know how Pierre is." Carlos says, patting Lando on the back.

"I know, I'm just pissed at myself, that's all." Lando says, pressing Y/n's photo icon and immediately regrets it.

"What the FUCK is this?" Lando screams and Carlos snatches the phone out of Lando's hand to look at it too.

"Oh my God, Lando, they're eating sushi!" Carlos can't help but laugh and Lando takes the phone back, looking at those images.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

"I don't know why you're so nervous, she said herself that they were on a break from the movie, besides, you guys aren't even dating anymore." Lando looks at Carlos without answering.

Carlos knew he was a little drunk and stressed, and he knew Lando would have to deal with the consequences even in that state.

Carlos sighs as he hears Lando sniffle.

"I miss her..." He says softly, wiping his eyes on his sweatshirt sleeve.

"Oh Lando, come here." Carlos pulls Lando into a tight hug.

"I know you feel that way, but things can still work out, it's not like they're posting pictures on social media or anything." Carlos tries to joke, but Lando lifts his head and walks away from Carlos, fiddling with his phone.

"That's it, I need to go on his social media."

"I didn't say that-"

"Son of a bitch!" Lando yells and Carlos closes his eyes.

"Lando, please-"

"Look at this!" He practically rubs his phone in his friend's face showing a post from Timothee.

Liked by youruser, carlossainz55 and other people

Tchalamet 🫡

@Youruser

—

Youruser 🫡

Tchalamet 🫡

User1 I hope they get together Geez.

User2 I don't know if I want her or him

User3 I think she deserves someone good for her

User4 I hope this movie gets nominated for an Oscar

"Why the hell did you like, Carlos?" Lando yells in Carlos' face.

"I liked it? I didn't even notice."

"Yes, you liked it damn it, whose side are you on?" Carlos observes Lando's state, controlling himself not to laugh.

"I'm on her side, for sure."

"This isn't going to stay like this, not at all." Lando starts doing something on his phone and Carlos sighs for the thousandth time in that half hour.

"Don't do anything you might regret later."

"There, it's done!"

"You must be possessed or something."

—

Timothee was looking at his Instagram and raised his eyebrows, surprised by what he saw in his notifications.

landonorris started following you

—

Taglist

@emryb @sltwins @lottalove4evelyn @weekendlusting

#lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris #f1 grid x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #timothée hal chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #Lando x Actress!reader

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on-the-clear-blue · 30 days

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Dead Man's Diner pt 2

Danny had to admit, Lunch Lady was an excellent teacher.

Sure they were blitzing though a cook book thst was more tape and hope the paper, but Danny was for once actually understanding and enjoying being taught.

Cracking an egg into a bowl, Danny held it close while whisking quickly, not fully incorporating the flour in his pancake batter before dumping a good sized dollop on the flat top, smiling from the brief sizzle that he heard.

There was a sudden cacophony sounds from the front of house (which was the dining area? He never knew that before) putting the flat top on low, Danny looked over to where Lunch Lady was floating only to find nothing.

Blinking a bit, Danny wiped his hands off OK his apron as he poked his head out, frowning at the diner car, "What was that..." his words were cut off by one of the blinds slats bending as if pried open, and as he squinted, Danny saw two figures watching from a distance ontop another rail car.

Vigilantes

Danny felt his heart flutter with excitement, while not as cool as maybe Martian Manhunter or StarFire (since y'know...fucking aliens, Space) the Gotham caped community were interesting, if only since Batman and his Flock were Sam's low key obsession, she had even gone out as Robin for multiple Halloweens, and don't even get him started on the fan theories about them all.

Smirking he tapped the bar, allowing thr blinds to snap closed, "Sam is so going to flip that I saw the Birds before her." Letting out a little giggled, Danny quickly swore as he smelt a bit of burning and rushed to flip his pancakes.

---

Tim was, in Dicks opinion, the most concerning member of the family, sure most days he gives of "miserable wet cat" energy but even then Dick had seen his little brother easily take down guys that even Bruce had trouble with.

That wasnt even touching on his um...mental quirks

The less he speaks of the time period between Bruce's and Kons deaths till their eventual return, the better.

Putting down the binoculars, Dick stole a glance over at Red Robin, who was frowning deeply at his wrist computer, scooting a little closer Dick leaned over to see what was happening, "Whatcha do~oing?"

So entranced by what he was reading Tim jumped a little, an elbow flying out to where Dicks face had been a second ago as he turned and glared.

"Don't...! Do that Wing! Ugh..." shaking his head as he let out a huff Tim took his eyes off the small monitor and looked up at the diner car, pointing at it as he spoke scornfuly.

"That place does not exist."

"Like, legally? I am sure Batburger doesn't either-"

"No." Tim said, cutting the older vigilante off, "It doesn't exist physically."

"Timmy..." Dick said as he ran through the protocols for when RedRobin got a little too many insane things in his head.

"Get that look off your face Wing, it really doesn't exist, like..." letting out a sigh, the teen tried to put his words right "Don't look straight at it but a bit to the side so it's to the side of your eye." Pointing to a middle distance a bit away from the diner cart, Dick sent a small frown at his brother but did as he was asked.

"Holy leaping lizards..." Tim, somehow, was right, since when Dick just looked about a few feet away from the diner, it started to waver turning...transparent? And a little blue? But when he looked at it closer it was just a normal, abet run down looking diner.

"Exactly, no need to bench me till Agent A stuffs me full of anti-psychotics!"

"That was one time Tim, and you were having a mental break down."

"I am not lying when I say we killed Santa Claus Dick!"

"Sure Tim...sure"

---

Danny drummed his fingers on the breakfast bar, nursing a cup of coffee as he waited for something to happen.

He knew thst he was being watched, he had a vague idea who was doing the watching, but was starting to get a bit bored waiting for them to get closer.

Pausing mid sip, a grin spread across Danny's lips, "Hey cart? Can you do something that might draw those guys over here? Let's get some customers!"

Some how, Danny's grin only grew at the rumble of the cart, and he xould hav sworn he heard a sound that was a mix between a train horn and a chuckle.

---

Tim shot his brother a stinging glare, swatting at his arm as he blushed, he did every much indeed accidentally killed Santa Claus and took an impromptu trip to Apokolips to give DarkSeid coal.

His next rebuttal to Nightwing was cut off as the diner cart shuddered as if it was in an earthquake before it stilled, and the banner that was across it suddenly gained a new line.

[JUST NOW! VIGILANTES AND HEROS GET ONE FREE SIDE OF FRIES! COME ON IN BEFORE THE OFFER ENDS!]

Tim was silent for a moment, watching the cart to see if there was any more changes before turning to Dick, who had lost the joyful energy that he always seemed to have.

"RR, plans changed, we are going to investigate inside."

Tim gave a sharp nod, his bo staff elongating as he grappled down to the train tracks below, his boots crunching gravel underfoot as he slipped from shadow to shadow, getting closer to Big C's diner.

---

Danny was in the back, flipping through his cook book as he heard a bell ring, jolting up, Danny could see through the service window and see who came in.

He had never met a real hero before, not like the two that had just came in, feeling nervous, Danny fumbled with a small notebook as he came out from the kitchen, grinning at the two Birds.

"Heya! Thanks for coming to Big C's! Names Danny and I am kinda the only one in today, what can I get you both?"

His eyes flickered between the two vigilantes, noticing new things each time he looked at them, like how Red Robin's cape had buttons instead of being sown on, or how Nightwings suit wasn't slick but actually textured.

---

Dick looked at everything he could as he stood in the diners door, it looked like a typical 50s styled mom and pop kinda place, an old radio buzzed with songs of a bygone era while the seats were cracked pink leather vinyl.

He could hear someone moving in the back, resting a hand on his eskrima sticks, Dick stalked further in, it felt real enough...

He could feel Red Robin knock into his back as the person from the back came into view, it was a teen, and holy hell did he look like Bruce Wayne adoption bait, raven hair, blue eyes and a cheesy looking grin.

He couldn't be older than Damian, who had turned 16 a few months ago, the teen was just so...tiny.

Danny, that's the name given to them, and Dick can see it, he looked like a Danny.

Pausing to look to Tim, Dick smiled back at the teen, "Well...can we see a menu?"

#dpxdc #dc x dp #danny is a little shit #he is just a little guy #tim drake #tim drake has problems #red robin #night wing #Dead Man's Diner #batman #bruce: what do you mean “we had to go in it offered us fries”#does this count as a coffeeshop au?#part 2 #tim drake is a menace

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forlix · 1 year

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𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁・l.f.

— in which you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.1k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・roommate!felix x gn!streamer!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, flirting, kind of an smau, implied friends to lovers, humor if u count jeongin being a piece of shit

𝗮/𝗻・saw this tweet the other day and it was so painfully lix coded that i knew i had to write something asap. contains a tiny bit of gaming jargon but is hopefully comprehensible. ENJOY ♡

y/n ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @ y/nxx

if someone brings you fresh cut fruit to your table when you're gaming, they either like LIKE you or it's your mom

11:23 A.M.・Oct. 2023・220.2K Views

bokkie 🐣 liked your post.

“My tweet?”

You read aloud the newest text in your chatroom, and your face brightens when you remember the one in question.

“Oh, about the fruit—no, it’s so true though. And I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but I have an inkling she did it to guilt trip me." You change your posture and adopt your best motherly tone of voice. "‘This is your tenth consecutive hour wasting your young adulthood in front of that damn screen. I am now going to hand deliver apple slices straight to your mouth.’ That kind of vibe, y'know?"

A slew of messages follows your anecdote, but it is a comment from one of your moderators that catches your eye first:

je0ng1n: what about the other option tho 👀

You groan at the sight of his username. “Man, why are you always here? Don't you have a job?"

je0ng1n: i’m on break je0ng1n: taking a dump je0ng1n: ungrateful bitch

You brandish a middle finger to the camera. “Hope the dump sucks."

je0ng1n: HEY je0ng1n: don’t even joke about that :(

An involuntary cackle precedes your next words. “If you’re actually wondering, though, the only person who’s brought me fruit while I’m playing video games is indeed my mother. Heartbreaking, I know.”

At this, the steady flow of messages morphs into a gallery of depressed cat emoticons; your audience never fails to impress you with their way with words.

“But if someone other than your disappointed parent is bringing you fruit,” you go on, “they might as well get on one knee in the process, honestly. That's such an adorable, loving thing to do.”

Suddenly, the words MATCH FOUND splash across your monitor, and you move your cursor to accept the game invite—only to be met with a pop-up window and a familiar error sound that grates on your ears like screeching tires.

You know how this story ends: the lights in your mouse go dark, and you look on in dejected silence.

je0ng1n: LMFAOOOOO je0ng1n: bro’s mouse definitely just exploded again

“You guessed it," you sigh. “Hang tight for a sec, guys."

Half an hour ago, you could’ve sworn you heard sneakers being kicked off, a set of keys falling against plastic. Now, you pull one side of your headphones off and roll your chair a few feet backward, calling through your half-open door: “Lix, are you home?”

You pick up on a soft clunk that sounds like metal hitting wood—the cutting board, maybe?—and then your housemate's low, accented answer bounces off the walls of your shared hallway.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“The mouse,” you say helplessly.

“Ah.�� It’s not the first time you’ve summoned him for this. “Be right there.”

A few seconds later, you remember to tack on a hurried disclaimer: “I’m live, by the way!”

“I know.”

This brings a bashful smile to your face, though the expression quickly turns to one of pure dismay when you return to your desk and witness the disastrous state of your chat.

Felix has become a regular guest on your stream by now, always popping in to show you a TikTok or ask for your opinion on a new pair of jeans or simply give your camera an awkward wave—but he may as well own your channel with how completely and unequivocally he has captured the hearts of your viewers. They’re convinced he’s the sexiest person to ever grace the earth, with his chiseled features and coffee-colored eyes; with a grin that could set entire estates on fire and a voice that could scrape the nadir of the Grand Canyon.

Do you agree? Absolutely.

Do you have any intention of voicing this sentiment, so long as you’re splitting rent with him? Absolutely the hell not.

Another of Jeongin’s messages—GET ME HIS NUMBER OR I GET VIOLENT—inspires you to minimize the stream window before Felix gets here. It’s for the best.

A few moments later, the door opens, and the air shifts inside your room. A hand comes to rest on the top of your head; a familiar silhouette appears in your periphery. There is a fond grin plastered across your face and a bright greeting sitting readily on the tip of your tongue.

But then, Felix places a plate of freshly cut fruit in the empty space to the left of your keyboard—here, he hums, the sound falling against the shell of your ear like a drop of melted chocolate. And the gears of your brain grind to a complete stop.

There is no further acknowledgment; no supplementary explanation for what he's just done. He simply picks up your mouse and gets to work.

The words of your tweet swim dizzyingly before your eyes, not unlike those halos of stars and birds that revolve around disoriented cartoon characters. And you’re suddenly, achingly aware of your roommate's arm nudging against yours as he tinkers away; of the aromas of vanilla and laundry detergent that always come with his proximity; of the heat that’s risen to your face, and the plethora of questions that have surfaced to your mind.

A soft huff of laughter follows a gentle utterance of your name, and you snap out of your trance. Felix’s eyes are glinting with amusement when you meet them.

“It’s been recalibrated,” he says, handing back your mouse. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Your fingertips brush over his palm when you accept the object, and even this blink of contact has your heart performing an elaborate hopscotch routine across the plane of your chest.

It’s either your mom, or…

“Thank you,” you mumble, finally retrieving your larynx from the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Anytime,” Felix returns, and you know he means it. “You need a duo, by the way?"

“Yes, please.”

He gives you a warm smile at this, and there’s a hint of something else—something new—in the curve of his lips. “Give me two.” And he’s gone as quickly as he'd come.

You will never know how Felix slips his phone out of his pocket the second he emerges from your room, his pulse hounding his ears as he turns a nervous gaze upon his screen.

There is now a supersonic blur of messages saturating your chatroom, a colorful cacophony of moving emotes and capital letters, but he is focused wholly on the person in front of the camera and how you slowly lift a hand to your mouth, deathly silent despite your every viewer demanding your comment on the matter, your sanguine cheeks visible even through the gaps of your fingers.

That is all he needs to know.

Felix sinks into the leather of his gaming chair and bends to power on his computer. Only after a deep breath blows past his lips does his smile start to stretch into a grin, every bit as embarrassed as it is relieved.

je0ng1n: no way je0ng1n: no fucking way je0ng1n: my heart fluttered je0ng1n: wtf je0ng1n: how’d you pull HIM??

y/nxx has removed je0ng1n as a moderator of this channel.

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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marigoldenblooms · 6 months

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That's a Wrap - One Shot

Pairing: Director!Natasha x Fem!Actor!Reader x Actor!Wanda (MINORS DNI - 18+)

Summary: You and Wanda can’t seem to get this scene right. With your director’s help, you manage.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Is Y/N in the room with us right now (They aren’t), Dom!Natasha, Switch!Wanda, Bottom!Reader. Dub-con, power dynamic (Director/Actor), voyeurism, degradation, praise, semi-public sex, semi-orgasm denial, light edging, objectification, oral (W receiving), fingering (R receiving), strap-on use(R receiving), some pet names (baby, sweetheart, darling, ma’am, Tasha(For N), Wan/Wands(For W), Mommy(For W, used loosely)), Nat calls her strap her dick, semi-previous established relationship? Porn with plot, clothed sex, sextape, light aftercare, fluff at the end.

A/N: Welcome to the first issue of Smut Saturdays! Want to really create some good shit in this genre, so I'm posting at least one spicy fic every Saturday (if I can help it)! This came to me in a vision (called the five minutes before my math class)- After my last smut fic did well (An Important Lesson, Prof!Wanda x Reader, which you can read here), I thought I’d do some WandaNat practice! Not proofread, written in the span of an evening. This is a crime against intimacy coordinators, I’m so sorry. Asides over. Natasha wears a strap to her films and she can dick me down with it, please and thank you!

Word Count: 2.4k - Read Length: 8 minutes, 49 seconds.

~~~

It was never fun when the producers came by.

They’d always arrive in droves of two or three, never the top dog- as if Natasha’s ‘avant-garde chick flick’, as they called it, wasn’t worth their time. They certainly treated it as much. Today was the worst day for them to arrive, in pressed jackets and always on a phone call, because today you were filming the sex scene. It was more of a ‘romance’ scene, with alluring cinematography and enough passion to make your eyes fall out, yet you hadn’t even gotten to remove any clothes from your beautiful costar- Wanda. You knew she was incredible, her previous films as a fem fatale showing her dominant streak, however the spark couldn’t burn when interruptions from the suits kept happening. You weren’t on a porn set, and yet sometimes you wish you were. Might’ve been faster, or at least more fun.

“From the top,” A groveled voice muttered, Natasha’s steely gaze breaking into your skull- though a part of you wished she’d break your back. The redhead had always been an inspiration, one of the leading reasons for your participation in her project, besides her being so fine. But now, she looked pissed, worn down by hours of appeasing the producer’s half-baked suggestions and guarding you and Wanda from their prying eyes. “Yes Ma’am,” you replied, earning a slight chuckle from your director, the twinkle in her eye not lost on you- she was on her last legs, but it was yours and Wanda’s compliance that kept her going.

You’d return to your blocking, centered in the middle of your ‘apartment bedroom’, with Wanda’s hand placed gently on your waist. Your roles were lovers, reuniting after a long day of hardship, slowing down after it all. You’d stare up at her, the mild exasperation in your expression making her smile. She’d send a wink down to you, muttering something about being ‘bored too’, but ‘not hating kissing you again’, or the like. She’d invited you out to coffee tonight, and especially after a day like this, you’d take it. Perhaps you’d even forget the paparazzi and really kiss her as you’d been wanting to do this whole shoot. Throw a bone to the fanfiction writers and make their canon comply with reality. Maybe. It was Natasha’s words which startled you from your thoughts, a look of tenderness overcoming your face as you’d sink into your character, “Action!”

Within an instant, Wanda hiked her hands under the hem of your shirt, eyes darting down to your face. Her palms were warm against you, smooth against your soft skin, as your head rested gently on her shoulder. She’d tug at the fabric- and you’d send her a quick nod, smiling as you’d lean up to capture her lips in yours-

“Well that’s not very marketable!” A producer would crow, scoffing with both his hands outstretched towards the two of you. You’d freeze, feeling all of the passion drain out from the scene, no more than a shell of itself. His bald head wasn’t very marketable, looking like a morally dubious Mr. Clean- and yet you didn’t comment on it. He’d look at Natasha, the woman pinching the bridge of her nose with a stern sigh, and you gulped. Oh, shit. She was going to lose it. “Can’t you get their clothes off faster? Our focus groups won’t wait around for-”

“Fucking Christ, get- out!” Natasha shouted, a growl in her tone bringing heat to your face. She scowled, roaring to the surrounding suits, “Leave, get off my set- it’s my fucking turn to direct them.” Her hands would fan away their deer-in-headlights looks, ushering them out before locking the door. Her fiery gaze would bore into you then, jaw locked as her heels would click towards you and Wanda, many feet apart.

The two shared a knowing nod- And before you could speak, your director grabbed Wanda by her shirt collar and pulled her into a bruising kiss. Your jaw would drop as the brunette’s eyes widened, fluttering shut as Wanda moaned into the embrace- Natasha’s hands planted firmly on her tits. She’d squeeze them, earning a gasp from Wanda, your costar’s head swung back as Natasha swiped her thumbs across her nipples. Your director’s gaze would strike yours, and you understood why Wanda’s submission was so quick. You shuddered at the redhead’s gleaming smirk, her voice a husked whisper, “Get those clothes off and get on the bed for me, baby. Now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Your reply was instant, Natasha’s grin only widening as you’d shed your layers, kneeling on the mattress’s soft sheets. They were cold, goosebumps settling up your spine yet you wouldn’t move, eyes trained obediently on Natasha. You were so perfect for her.

Natasha’s mouth would return to Wanda’s, pressing her into the faux wall that had outlined the bedroom. Her hand would splay against Wanda’s stomach, and you saw how she hiked up the shirt there, continuing to palm her tits while unclasping Wanda’s bra with the other. She’d pepper kisses across the brunette’s neck, sucking hickeys the lower she’d go.

They’d part only so Wanda’s top could come completely off, your director keeping a claiming touch on Wanda’s hip as she’d look back at you over her shoulder. Her hair was wild, mused from Wanda’s hands slung loosely around her shoulders while her expression remained flushed, dark eyes darting down to the slick that pooled between your legs. Wanda’s voice would ring to you, almost reverent as her hips would stutter against Natasha’s, “She’s fucking drooling for us, Tasha..”

The redhead would bite back a smirk as she’d watch you twitch. You ached to touch them, yourself, anything- your hands already balled into fists on your thighs, legs rubbing together, desperate for friction. But neither had given the command, and you had an inkling from their hungry looks that they wanted you needy, right where they had you. Natasha’s rasp came second, “Then show her what I taught you.”

Wanda would reach you first, discarding the rest of her clothes in the process. Her hands trailed warm touches up your legs and to your chest, digging into your soft flesh as her lips would meet yours. It was explosive, sweet and tender yet with a ferocity that claimed you quickly, heating up your skin as her knee would slot between your thighs. You’d feel Natasha’s calloused fingers on the small of your back, the sinking of her weight in the mattress behind you, and her tone husked in your ear, “Stretch her out for me, Wan- like we practiced.” Your director’s words sent a buzz to your core, cunt grinding mercilessly into the sheets below as Wanda’s hand would trail there, dragging two fingers along your folds before arcing dazzling circles around your clit.

You’d eagerly press your hips into her touch, moaning lowly as she’d chuckle, “So wet for me, sweetheart…bet I can just slip right in.” She’d coax her fingers inside, your pussy walls taking her gladly as Wanda curled her digits against that spongy spot. Your back would arch, head growing fuzzy as you’d feel your slick drip down her hand. Her thumb would press into your clit as you’d buck your hips against her, cursing a quick “Fuck-” which was quickly swallowed up by Wanda’s mouth. She’d bite your lip, dragging it with her teeth as she’d settle into her rhythm, spare hand palming your tits with a rougher grasp, “Been waiting for this, haven’t you sweetheart- pretty whore, just for us.”

“Mhm, good girl just wants to be fucked, don’t you?” Natasha would grit, and you could see her stroking something behind your back. She’d unzipped her slacks- her strap heavy in her hand, glistening with the spit she’d gathered in her palm. Natasha bucked her hips against her hold, cursing as the cock’s base would rub against her clit. She looked incredible, sweat across her brow as her hand would clench around the toy, like she could feel it. “Keep going, Wands- want her perfect for my dick.”

Natasha would pant, breathing ragged as her hand moved in time with Wanda’s fingers- curling into you almost torturously, feeling your cunt clench around her. The brunette’s kiss would claim you again, moaning into her warmth as her thumb would circle your clit. She’d sigh almost lovingly, fondness overtaking her expression as your head found the crook of her neck, “She’s already perfect, Tasha-” She’d coo, although her hand wouldn’t stop, gasping at the squelching sound of her fingers up your cunt, “This pussy was made for us, darling.”

Their words and touch brought you so close, yet Wanda’s hands slowed down when she felt your legs quiver or your breathing seize up, never giving you what you needed. You’d squirm against Wanda, begging for more, a lingering touch, anything- “Please, Wan- I‘m so close,” You whined, earning a tut from your costar. She’d devour your pleas, lost to time as her mouth would reach yours, softer than before. You felt her sympathetic smile against you as she’d shake her head, locking eyes with Natasha’s heavy stare, “Not yet, sweetheart..It’s not my turn anymore.”

The redhead groaned when Wanda slid her fingers out of you, her fingers shimmering with your arousal. Your walls fluttered around nothing, aching for anyone’s touch as you felt Natasha’s rugged grasp on your hips, pulling you up and back so your pelvis was against hers. The strap had warmed in her hand, dragging between your legs. You were dripping for her, soft sparks of pleasure seizing you as her tip would brush against your clit. Her voice would thunder through you, almost delirious with her own need, “Fucking finally..want this pussy all to myself…”

Wanda would chuckle at that, your director kneading at your hips as Wanda’s thighs settled in front of your mouth, your arms propping yourself just above her soaked cunt. “We promised to share, Tasha..” She’d croon, face flushed and touch softer than Natasha’s as she’d cradle your face in her palms, “Such a pretty girl..are you ready for your reward, darling?” You nodded, a flurry of sensation hitting you all at once- Natasha’s strap sinking into you as the redhead would push your shoulder blades down, pressing your face between Wanda’s legs.

The stretch was incredible, the woman behind you vicious as she’d drive her dick into you, bottoming out as your mouth would be smothered against Wanda’s cunt. Each thrust would drive Wanda crazy, your gasps and whimpers vibrating right into her core, especially as you’d flat your tongue against her clit, suckling on the sensitive nub. Her thighs would threaten to shut on you, her stretched words lost in your pussydrunk haze, “Yes, like that sweetheart- such a good girl..-” Natasha would rock her hips into yours, pace bruising as she’d pull your thighs flush to hers. You’d hear her muffled curses as she’d bottom out again, sighing as if she could feel you clench around her. “Baby..fuck, so perfect for us…” Wanda’s hands would thread into your hair, anchoring her hold on you as she’d press your face further into her cunt.

The sight would echo a curse from Natasha’s mouth, her hips growing a little more erratic, “Fucking christ, she’s our perfect little whore, aren’t you baby-” You’d try to nod, moaning as Natasha’s hand would press further into your back, keeping you from moving an inch, “Don’t even think, baby- just fucking take it, fuck-”

Time would seem to slow, your brain fuzzing into blissful static as you’d feel Wanda’s thighs tremor around your head, her grip tightening as she’d see your body tremble in Natasha’s touch. “Come with me, sweetheart- be a good girl and come for Mommy.” Her saccharine words spurred you into a blinding release, your tongue working Wanda through her orgasm as your body quaked with your own. You’d feel Natasha follow shortly thereafter, cursing aloud as she’d pull herself out of you, watching as you’d clench around nothing. Her hands would immediately find your waist, bringing you gently up to kneel with your back against her clothed front.

Panting, your arms would shake as you’d catch your breath, leaning up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You could feel both women’s eyes on you as you’d suckle on your fingers, cleaning up with an exaggerated moan, looking towards Wanda as you’d pop your hand out of your mouth, your words almost dreamy, “Mmm, so good, Wan..” You’d giggle as Wanda’s face would alight in blush, although the clink of metal and fabric drove you away from your teasing.

Natasha’s hands would be rushed as she’d pull her pants and harness down, eyes heavy with a lust that made you shudder, “Switch with me, Wands-” She’d grit, thrusting the strap in her general direction before settling calloused palms on your still quivering thighs, her gaze boring into yours, “It’s my turn for her mouth.”

Wanda’s smirk was immediate, sending you another sly wink, “Gladly.”

------------------------------------------

Unbeknownst to the three of you, the cameras had never stopped rolling. That film would never be seen by the public, kept hidden once you left the building. Not to say it couldn't be enjoyed by you three, though.

Natasha and Wanda took you out to coffee afterwards as the brunette had promised. They explained their prior agreement to ‘test the waters’ with you, Wanda working with Natasha on a plan to woo you both in and out of character. The date went well, although with much less lingering glances and more almost-fucking in the back of Wanda’s car afterwards. It was there that the public and paparazzi learned of your relationship, although their camera flash thankfully stopped any romance before it got good. You weren’t on a porn set, after all- and Wanda kept your half-nude form hidden while Natasha cursed out the press. All in a day’s work.

Unfortunately, the day’s work began anew the next day. Filming the romance scene was no difficult measure now, but Natasha’s grin and Wanda’s wandering hands blurred the lines of professionalism. The film crew couldn’t care less, a few of them- such as Kate, a script supervisor- mentioned how they knew it would happen eventually (and won a bet with Peter, who said it’d take until the award show for you three to get together).

However, once you three escaped into Natasha’s office for some ‘paperwork’ as she’d called it, it didn’t matter. They were yours, and that was enough. ~~~

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demonvibez · 1 year

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Hello, I came here to ask you a request: Mc is wearing a pajama (nightgown, little shorts, whatever you want) that shows a little bit too much. So one day, Mc comes down to the kitchen in the middle of the night, taking advantage about the brothers sleeping in their rooms so no one would see her like this, and suddenly, she bump into one of the brothers. How would they react?

A/N: Thank you so much for this request, and sorry for the delay! I started working on it, got writer's blocked, solved the block, then got...inspired, lol. This ended up being like 8 lil narrative one shots. Anyways - This is only part one of two; hope you like! ♡

Characters: [Lucifer / Mammon / Leviathan / Satan] x F! Reader

Word Count: 4.6k+

Rating: Teen [Suggestive Themes]

Tags: suggestive/sexual themes, making out, light petting/groping, reader = she/her pronouns, each demon has a lil backstory

[Part One of Two - Read Part Two Here]

It was late at night in the House of Lamentation, and you had just finished preparing yourself for bed. You had finished your homework for the day, as well as your nighttime routine, and it was time for you to settle down. Just as you sit down on the edge of your bed, you start thinking about how it would be nice to have a quick little snack before you turn in to sleep for the night. Picking up your DDD from the nightstand, you check the time to see just how late it was. You decide that it was probably late enough for everyone to be asleep, and it was safe to venture out into the house alone with what you are wearing - a skimpy spaghetti strap tank top and tiny shorts that leave little to the imagination. You push yourself up off the bed and cross the room, making your way towards the door. Leaving your bedroom door open, you make your way towards the kitchen next door . . .

For the Avatar of Pride, staying up late and overworking himself was a normal part of his daily routine. Usually after dinner, he hides himself away in his study so that he can start working his way through the mountains of paperwork sent to him from his superiors. Usually every night, he has the same routine - he finishes his RAD related paperwork, takes a break to patrol the House, stops by the kitchen for a cup of Hell Coffee and then back up to his study to deal with the paperwork associated with his political duties.

Lucifer starts making his way down the hall for his nightly rounds through the House, as he normally does at this hour. He usually does this in order to make sure his brothers’ mischief was kept at a minimum, but it’s in order to keep you safe as well. He couldn't help but to notice that the chaos in their House had increased quite a bit since you had arrived - some of it from his brothers dragging you into their antics, some of it chaos created all on your own, and some of it external chaos that seeks to consume your beautifully shiny soul. When you first arrived here, you used to be a major source of his headaches. He used to struggle with how to punish you, seeing as you were the fragile little human sent here for Lord Diavolo's exchange mission. But now, the more Lucifer thinks about you, he cannot deny to himself the fondness that has grown for you within his heart. A smile twitches at his lips for a brief moment before he refocuses himself on his task.

Just as he is making his way down the stairs to check the first floor, he hears a noise coming from the kitchen area, a faint glow emitting from its frame and spilling into the hallway. He lets out an exasperated sigh to himself, believing it to be Beelzebub on one of his frivolous late night snack missions. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he strides towards the kitchen door, scripting the lecture he wants to give in his mind as he walks. How many times must he punish the Sixth Born?

When he reaches the doorway, he halts at the unexpected sight before him, and he can’t help but to stand back and observe. He sees you in the kitchen, illuminated by the light of the refrigerator, looking through what’s left of its contents for a snack. You look so innocent while doing so, completely unaware of your surroundings. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this - hell, he wasn’t even used to seeing you dressed like this. Usually dressed in your RAD uniform, the attire you were currently wearing is much more revealing than what he is used to seeing you in. The way the thin cotton fabric clings to your curves, he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming your entire body. You grab something from the fridge, closing it before making your way over to the kitchen island with the leftover Acidic Hell Fries you found. Sitting down with your back turned to the door, you open up the tray and lean in to take a bite, all the while Lucifer can’t help but notice the way your shirt rides up the arch of your back, the way the waistband of your shorts sit right at your hip, the way your skin just looks so soft. He wasn’t sure how a human could stir up such emotions in him, but he was in fact curious to see where it would take him.

In a rare moment of impulsivity, Lucifer swiftly makes his way towards you. Before you even have time to register the Avatar of Pride's presence, he sets both of his hands on the table on each side of you, effectively trapping you between him and the counter. He leans down closer to your ear, the scent of his cologne filling your senses, as he whispers your name into your ear with a very seductive tone. "What do you think you're doing here," he asks, his tone husky as you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning against your skin. Your pulse accelerates as he presses his lips to your earlobe, his gloved hands now slowly finding their way around your waist as Lucifer trails light kisses down the soft flesh of your neck. You would usually have some sort of snarky comeback for Lucifer, stating how it was obvious why you were in the kitchen shoveling fries into your face at half past midnight. But in this moment you couldn't muster up a retort, your brain beginning to fog up with the haze of pleasure that Lucifer's touch can bring. As he continued to tease your neck, occasionally nipping at it with his fangs, his hands began to drift lower on your body, lightly teasing at your waistband. One of his hands pulls your chin up to him, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips collide with yours in a way that sets your soul ablaze with passion.

He slowly pulls away from the kiss, your eyes slowly opening to see his crimson orbs gazing back at you with lust, love and admiration. He slightly loosens his hold on you, before turning you around on the barstool you sat upon to face him. He brushes the hair out of your eyes, tucking it back behind your ear before leaning down to press one more kiss on your lips. When he pulled away this time, you chased his lips with his own, filling him with a sense of pride at the idea that you're craving more of him - much like he craves more of you. He lets out a small chuckle before suddenly sweeping you up in his arms, your legs dangling over one side while your arms instinctively wrap around his neck for safety. "We're heading straight to my room," he said along with your name in a confident tone, "and I hope you have plenty of energy, because we won't be getting much sleep tonight." He carried you out of the kitchen and up the stairs, taking no time getting you to his room and into his silk sheets.

Mammon had just recently arrived home about an hour ago from one of his many side hustles he did to help earn some extra Grimm and pay back a few of his debts. The witches have been hassling him even more than normal recently, threatening a variety of curses if he doesn't comply with their demands, so he's had to take up multiple side hustles in order to make enough money. He could have sworn he paid them off a while ago - math is one of Mammon's strong suits and he always keeps his debt ledger up to date. He's pretty damn sure the witches are just jealous of you, and take it out on him one of the few ways they know will work. They would never mess with you directly - and risk earning the wrath of all seven Avatars of Sin? And perhaps even the Future King of the Devildom himself? Hell nah. They'll just keep toying with Mammon the way they know best.

Normally, Mammon would be pretty exhausted after a grueling shift of serving tables at Hell’s Kitchen, but tonight for some reason, he was feeling restless and couldn’t seem to settle down. He had completed his nightly routine and settled into bed, but he found himself feeling restless, scrolling Devilgram instead and finding himself growing bored rather quickly. After tossing and turning in his bed for what felt to him like an eternity, he let out an annoyed groan and pushed himself out of bed. If he couldn’t lull himself to sleep, he might as well go find his favorite human. He crossed the room to pick up his designer underwear and sweatpants off the couch, slipping them both on before making his way to the door. Once his door is closed, he starts briskly but silently making his way across the hall and down the stairs, doing his best to avoid running into any of his brothers - namely, Lucifer.

Making a beeline straight for your room, Mammon notices the door is open and just walks inside as if he owns the place. “Oi, human! I’m bored, why don't ya-” he says, before looking around to see that the room is actually empty. “Where the hell even are ya,” he mumbles to himself with an exasperated huff, turning about-face and exiting your room. As he steps out into the hallway, he finally notices the kitchen light is on. He starts stomping his way over to the kitchen, mumbling something about how much work it is to watch after one stupid little human, when he crosses the threshold of the door and almost bumps into you as he is turning the corner. "Aye, what gives," he says in an almost shouting tone, "ya gotta watch it, human! Ya gotta be more careful! Ya ain't always gonna have the Great Mammon to..." he trailed off as he finally looks down at you, taking in fully just how you look and what you are wearing. His eyes widen and his jaw drops, standing there completely frozen in shock as his eyes scan you up and down repetitively.

Despite the many times the two of you have shared a bed, he has never seen you wear something so small and form fitting as pajamas before. Usually when he was over, you'd just wear an oversized tee shirt and some baggy sweatpants, which was usually cute and endearing in its own way. But tonight, since you assumed you would be spending the night alone, you wore something you thought no one would see you in. And now here you are in the kitchen, the Avatar of Greed stood in front of you, a blushing and stammering mess. The more of his golden eyes took in of you, the more he could feel the greed rise up within him. Every little inch of skin, every little curve of your body has Mammon craving more and more, his avarice knowing no bounds when it comes to you. Typically, in moments like these, the tsundere side of Mammon's brain would kick in, and a flurry of denials would leave his lips before you could even playfully accuse him of anything. Seeing you like this has Mammon forgetting all about those silly habits, his mind focused on wanting only one thing - you.

In this moment, Mammon can't help but succumb to his greed. His hands reach out to pull you into his bare chest, his demon form now on full display and eyes glowing as gold as Grimm. His arms tighten around you in a possessive hold as he buries his face in your hair, your scent as intoxicating to him as the most expensive Demonus on record. You feel his hands roam your body, feeling both his soft skin and his rings' hard metal gliding up and down your back. You melt into his touch, your arms instinctively wrapping around his torso. "I've been lookin' for ya," he mumbles into your hair. Before you can even fathom a response, Mammon's hands find their way under your ass, hoisting you up and setting you on the counter. He leans in and presses his lips to yours with a sense urgency you hadn't seen from the Avatar of Greed previously, his yearning and need for you growing with each kiss. As his tongue brushes your lips, they part and allow him entrance, and the way your two tongues dance with each other sends Mammon over the edge, feeling that same greed start to build within you. Mammon's kisses became hungrier and sloppier the more he could feel his sin in the air, a hint of lust mixing with it as his hands squeeze your ass, your own hands roaming his beautifully brown torso. "Mine," he states simply, as he breaks the kiss momentarily.

He picks you up once again, your legs squeezing his waist as you fling your arms around his neck. He runs off with you to his room to have his way with you - and to hoard you to himself like the Devildom's finest treasure.

It wasn’t at all unusual for Leviathan to stay up all hours of the night. On this night in particular he was counting down the hours until the newest merch drop from his favorite idol group, Sucre Frenzy. He picks up his Bufo Egg Milk Tea to take a sip, only to hear the slurping sound of his cup being empty. Looking at the clock at the bottom right of his monitor, he mentally notes that he still has an hour and a half before the drop, which should be more than enough time to run downstairs and raid the fridge. He presses pause on the song he was listening to on Devilfy, pulling off his headset and making his way out of his bedroom door. He pulls his DDD out of the pocket of his hoodie, swiping it open and pressing on the 'Mononoke Land' app. Checking to see if there were currently any in-game spirits lurking in the House, Levi games as he presses forward towards the kitchen, his own IRL mission falling to the back of his mind as he continued to focus on the side quest on his phone. One hand in his pocket while the other clutches his device, his tail slides along the handrail of the staircase, making sure he doesn't stumble as he tunes out the rest of the world.

He really hopes you can make it to hang out for the drop tonight! When he invited you at dinner you seemed interested, but you told him you weren't sure if you'd be able to stay awake that late or not. He would really love it if you are able to - everything is more enjoyable for the Lord of Shadows when he has his Henry by his side! It makes him excited even thinking about it! Maybe he'll swing by your room on the way back from the kitchen and see if you're awake! Or...that maybe awkward? What if you're asleep and he wakes you up? What if he annoys you? Maybe he'll just send you a text instead. Either way, he loves you more than all of his anime combined, and it would be the highlight of his entire month to spend tonight's event with you.

Refocusing on his game, he turns the corner to cut back towards the kitchen. He doesn't even notice the kitchen light on ahead, nor does he hear the clattering and clanking coming from inside. All he can seem to focus on is Mononoke Land. As he walks past your room, he does a double take, expecting to see you in your bed. On second glance, he notices you missing from your room, and Leviathan couldn't help but be confused as he pauses in your doorway. It's almost one in the morning and you aren't in your room?! Where in the Devildom could you possibly be?! You're probably hanging out with one of his brothers, aren't you?! You're probably in one of their rooms, in one of their beds, doing Dia knows what while he's down here getting some stupid snacks for his stupid merch drop. 'Stupid stupid stupid I'm so stupid! Of COURSE she wouldn't want to waste time her time with a disgusting otaku like me! IT'S NOT FAIR IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR!!' A wave of envy washes over him so powerful that he fights everything within himself not to summon Lotan and flood the House. His fists clench his DDD, stressing it from the pressure as his knuckles turn white. His eyes blaze a bright orange as jealousy rages within him like a hurricane brewing over the sea.

Wanting nothing more than to barricade himself in his room and never come out, Leviathan angrily marched onward towards the kitchen, determined to get his snacks and get the hell back to his room so he can wallow in his feelings. Hastily making his way through the kitchen's threshold, he doesn't see you as he barrels straight into you, knocking you backwards. Before his mind can fully process what's going on, his tail grabs ahold of you, wrapping around your waist and preventing you from hitting the floor. His eyes finally connect with yours, and he realizes that it's you he has run into. A quick scan of the room tells him you had been in here alone, and suddenly he feels foolish for the jealous tantrum he was throwing in his mind.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry...I didn't see y-you th-" he stammers, now looking down at you to see exactly what you were dressed in. Is this what you normally wear to bed? Levi hadn't ever seen anything like it in real life. The way the fabric highlights all of your best features, putting just the right amount of emphasis on how perfect your curves were...he could have sworn you were drawn by his favorite manga artist. His eyes roamed your body up and down, his face heating up as rapidly as his heart rate is rising. 'OH FUCK, I'm staring aren't I?! She probably hates me, I'm so gross, such a worthless perv, I need to stop staring WHATTHEFUCKDOIDO?!?' he panics internally, his hands starting to tremble. He tilts his head down to focus on the floor, when he finally processes that his tail has been autonomously wrapped around your waist the entire time. "I'M SO SORRY," he half shouts at you, as he starts to unravel his tail.

Suddenly, Levi takes pause, as he hears you gently call out his name, one of your hands resting on his tail while the other reaches out to stroke his cheek. "Levi...whatever you're thinking right now...stop," you reassured him. Before he could hide his face from you, you leaned in to press your lips to his in a soft but loving kiss. At first, Levi just stands there frozen in shock but after a moment he kisses you back. He's still unsure of what to do with himself - he doesn't want to ruin this moment - but he doesn't want it to end either, so he stands with his hands awkwardly at his sides and pours every ounce of love of passion he can into the kiss. While he may not know what to do with his hands, his tail seemed to enjoy exploring your body, causing you to let out a tiny soft moan when it makes its way around the top of your thigh. You wrap your arms around his neck, continuing the kiss as you press your body against his.

After a few more moments, the two of you pull away from each other, both trying to catch your breaths. Before Leviathan could even muster a response, you grab his hand, the sweetest of smiles plastered across your face. "Come on, let's go to your room, Levia-chan. I can think of a few ways for us to kill time until your merch drop launches," you said as you start pulling him towards the door. Suddenly you weren't tired, and Levi didn't care about the snacks - with you, he may even end up forgetting about the merch drop.

Before you had even thought of grabbing a snack from the kitchen, Satan had already made his way down there and was rifling his way through the fridge looking for something suitable to feed his secret kitten friend out in the garden. Earlier in the night, Satan came outside to the garden in order to calm down and let his inner rage subside. He had wanted to spend the remainder of his evening with you curled up in his lap as he reads to you, a warm fire crackling in the fireplace nearby, as the two of you ignore the world for each other and a great plotline - there was no other way he'd rather spend his evening. But of course, his insufferable eldest brother had to stick his prideful nose in where it didn't belong and drag you away, just as he was asking you to join him after dinner. It was almost as if the Avatar of Pride has an extra sense for when Satan wanted alone time with you, always interfering and coming up with some smug excuse as to why you need to be stolen away right when Satan needs you. That pompous ass was always going out of his way to stoke the flames of Satan's wrath on purpose! 'One day he'll get back at that bastard, he'll put him right in his place!'

Satan continued pacing in circles in the garden, his demon form on full display as rage flows through him like an ice river through one of the lower pits of hell. He wasn't doing the best job at calming himself down at first, you not being there to help ground him, so it was taking a bit longer than normal. It was always so much easier to calm himself with you there - just a few simple words or a quick hug usually doing the trick. But for now he was alone, and he was drawing a blank on what he else should do. He completed one more pace around the garden before, before letting out an annoyed huff and sat himself down on the nearest bench. As he was about to pull out his DDD to text you to see where you were, he hears a rustling in the bushes. His emerald eyes scan the area, no signs of life immediately apparently, before he sees a pair of glowing eyes peer out at him from underneath one of the bushes. A small smile tugs at his lips as it dawns on him who the eyes belong to - one of his stray feline friends that likes to wander through every now and then. He pushes himself up off the bench and slowly crosses over towards the cat, holding out his hand as he tries to coax it out of the bush. The cat immediately starts to back into the bush, shaking it's head at Satan, causing him to take pause. He chuckles to himself as he comes to the realization of what she is asking for - the cat wants a treat.

Satan straightens himself up, making his way back into the House to find some cat friendly snacks in the kitchen. When he arrives there, he is alone, and makes a beeline straight for the fridge. It was usually wishful thinking for anyone in the House of Lamentation to try to hide food in the kitchen, but sometimes Satan was able to get away with it for the sake of his kitten buddies. Crouching down to open the bottom drawer, Satan reaches in to pull out some of the Devildom cat treats he had stashed back behind the drawer. Setting the pouch of treats on the counter, he opens up one of the cupboards and pours what is left of the treats onto a saucer, before tossing the empty wrapper in the trash and making his way towards the kitchen door. Little did he expect in all of this, you came walking through the door at the same time, neither of you really paying attention. Before either of you can stop yourselves, you quite literally run into each other, the saucer of meaty cat treats smooshing against Satan's chest and then dropping to the floor. Satan can feel his wrath rising inside him once again, drenching him like an ice cold shower, his aura turning dark as his demon form makes an appearance once again. He hasn't even looked up to see who caused the collision, assuming one of his brothers is to blame yet again, his jaw clenching as his mind races to formulate it's retaliation.

His glowing green eyes finally lift to see exactly who the guilty party is, only for his eyes to meet yours instead. You begin to stammer out a stream of apologies, but seeing you immediately calms the inner turmoil of his mind, the storm suddenly calm within him.

His gazes roams over you for a moment, Satan suddenly finding himself speechless as he takes in exactly how breathtaking you look in such casual attire. The way straps of your tank top accentuate your collar bones, giving way to how the fabric hugs your perfect chest...Satan suddenly couldn't remember what he was mad about in any point in the day. He couldn't even bother to care why he was in the kitchen in the first place. He gently takes one of your hands with both of his, raising it to his lips to press a kiss into your knuckles. A warm smile spreads across his face as his hands find your hips, pulling you closer into him. One of his hands moves to rub the small of your back as the other tilts your chin upwards to him. He holds your gaze for a moment, adoration apparent in his eyes, before he leans in to share a passionate kiss with you.

The moment his lips caress your own, your heartbeat goes through the roof, and you can't help but to lean into him and melt into his touch. His hand on your chin moves to hold the back of your neck, his tongue brushing your bottom lip, asking for more. Your hands find themselves on his chest as your lips back, your tongues clashing together in a desperate bid to feel more of each other. Your hands slide down his chest and abs, lightly tugging at his belt when you get to his waist. He chuckles into the kiss before nipping at your bottom lip with one of his fangs, grabbing your hips with both hands as he slows the pace of the kiss.

Eventually he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours. "You always know how to make me feel better, kitten," he said as you slide your hands up his front and lace them behind his neck. "What do you say we retreat to my room to continue this encounter?" he leans in to steal one more kiss from you lips before taking you by the hand and pulling you up to his room.

· demonvibez ♡ 2023 · do not copy, repost or modify ·

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flowersforbucky · 8 days

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diet pepsi

logan howlett x reader - 2.8k words

summary: old!logan x reader limousine sex. inspired by the song diet pepsi by addison rae

author's note: i recently rewatched logan and haven't been able to stop thinking about what it would be like to have him in the backseat of that limousine. then i heard this song a few days ago and knew exactly what i had to write.

warnings/tags: smut, porn with plot, unprotected p in v, oral (m&f receiving), pet names (princess, honey), reader has kinda longish hair (nothing too specific), a little angsty but mostly fluffy? happy ending, reader is afab, no use of of y/n, 18+ only mdni

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when we drive in your car, i'm your baby

losing all my innocence in the backseat

say you love, say you love, say you love me

losing all my innocence in the backseat

The cab of the limousine reeks of leather and smoke - both stale and fresh, from the cigars he has chain smoked over the last few days and two thousand miles - give or take a few.

It's a scent you've grown surprisingly fond of. You know that no matter how long this thing between the two of you lasts, you'll forever associate the smoky sweet aroma of tobacco with him.

You've been laying down across the backseat for the last few hours, trying and failing to get some sleep at Logan's request, as he drives from Reno back to New Mexico. The two of you had left the familiar comfort of the abandoned smelting plant three days ago in search of a bulk supply of Charles’ medications - a search that led you to Nevada and yielded a six month supply of injections and pills.

You sit up in the middle of the seat, meeting Logan's gaze in the rearview mirror.

He's exhausted. He’d never admit it to you, but you know him better than he likely realizes. He's hanging on by a thread.

The digital clock on the dashboard reads it's just past noon. Another four hours and some change to go.

Asking him to pull over and rest for his own sake would be a fruitless waste of time, this much you know from the drive to Reno. What was supposed to be at least a seventeen hour drive turned into a fifteen hour drive as he sped the whole way and only stopped for the absolutely necessary food, bathroom, and gas breaks. Only after obtaining the crates of medicine did he allow himself the simple luxury of a few hours sleep.

“What's that look for, princess?” he asks as he breaks his stare, his eyes snapping back to the endless expanse of the blazing asphalt in front of you.

“I'm hungry,” you shrug with a sly grin. “And I need some coffee. And I miss you.”

He lets out a low laugh, a smirk forming across his features in the reflection of the glass. You don't miss the way his fingers grip the cracked leather of the steering wheel tighter at the words I miss you.

“We'll stop for something to eat soon, I promise.”

You hum in response, moving from your position on the further bench seat to the one that rests against the driver’s and front passenger’s seat, directly behind him. You lean your chest against the backrest, dangling one arm across the seat so that you can bring your hand to stroke the prominent stubble across his jaw.

“And what about the last thing?” you murmur, running your thumb along his bottom lip as you stare at him. He tenses beneath your touch but doesn't take his eyes off of the road before him.

“I'm right here, princess. Don't gotta miss me.”

“You know what I mean.”

He's barely touched you since you had first left New Mexico three days ago - and you understand why, truly. He's been focused on getting to Reno, getting the medication, and getting the fuck back home before the last few days worth of Charles’ injections and pills are gone. Even when you stopped at a random motel for a few hours of shut eye, you were both too exhausted to do anything other than sleep.

In fact, it was the first time that you've slept in a bed together without him being between your legs. You didn't mind it all - the simplicity and the intimacy of just sleeping curled into each other was something you'd always cherish from this trip.

But you’d be lying if you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t aching to have him in all of the ways that you’re so used to having him.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” he sighs, kissing the side of your thumb that still rests along his bottom lip. It's pathetic how the small act has you ready to crawl over the seat and straddle him. “We're almost home, though. Don't you want me to shower first?” he teases.

You know that both of you have to smell something foul - the motel you'd stayed in didn't even have a functioning shower, and the western United States heat is no joke this time of year. You both did the best you could with the bathroom sink and some baby wipes that you snagged from the gas station across the road, but whore's baths and deodorant just don't quite cut it in ninety-five degree weather.

“No, I don't,” you admit - you can't even bring yourself to care if it's pathetic. You bring your face closer to his, your nose nuzzling just under his ear. “I want you to pull over, get in the back of this car, and let me ride you until we both come.”

He hisses when your lips lock around the tender flesh of his earlobe, causing him to swerve and quickly correct back into the right lane.

“Fuckin hell,” he grunts, knuckles gripping the wheel so tight that they start to turn white. “Can't be saying that shit when I'm driving. Gonna make me wreck this thing.”

You laugh into the side of his neck, trailing wet kisses along his skin. “I'd suggest pulling over, then.”

He sighs again, all but melting into your touch now. You know you're getting your way when he flips on the turn signal and looks over his shoulder before merging right and then pulling off on the side of the desolate highway.

“You know that you've got me wrapped around your little finger, don't you?” He asks as he unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the limousine, slamming the driver's door behind him before you can respond. You move back to your original position on the back bench seat as he crawls in with you, pulling a spare key from his pocket to lock the still-running vehicle.

“Wrapped around my little finger is exactly where I intend to keep you.” He smiles - the first real smile you've seen from him in days and you melt a little inside. He kneels on the felt carpet before you, splaying his hands on your inner thighs and pushing them apart.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he murmurs into the flesh of your thighs, his facial hair tickling the bare skin. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of both your shorts and panties and you raise off the seat a few inches, giving him the clearance to tug them down past your ankles. You're left in nothing but a thin cotton tank top, your nipples pebbling from the way he's looking up at you.

“Cause that's exactly where I like to be.”

It's a rare occurrence that the two of you exchange such sweet sentiments - he usually only goes as far as whispering my girl in your ear as he sheaths himself inside you after late nights at work, when he comes home with lips that taste like single malt whiskey.

He loops his arms around the backs of your legs and tugs you forward on the seat, bringing your cunt directly to his mouth. Any sense of hesitation he initially had about hooking up on the side of the highway goes out the window as soon as his tongue licks a thick strip from your hole and up to your clit. You hiss, digging the fingernails of one hand into the old, weathered leather of the seat and bringing your other to lace your fingers through the salt and pepper colored locks of his hair.

As tired as he is from days of driving and very little sleep, you would never be able to tell with the fervency of his tongue lapping your folds. He always eats you like it’s the last time he ever will - and knowing Logan as well as you do, there’s always that chance that it very well could be.

So, you grab his hair and pull him as close to you as he can possibly be and revel in every lick, every kiss, every tug of his lips around your clit as he makes you believe that the two of you could have a lifetime of these moments together.

You can already feel that tell-tale warmth blooming in the pit of your abdomen when he brings a singular finger to your hole and plunges it inside you. Your walls constrict around the digit and he groans against your clit, the vibration spurring you closer to the edge of your climax. You grind yourself into his mouth as he sinks his tongue inside you, your back arching off of the seat and your eyes rolling into your head.

He pulls his tongue from inside you and moves his mouth up to your clit once more, locking his lips around the nub and pulling away with a wet pop that sends you over the edge. You ride out your orgasm on his face, writhing until he pulls his finger out of you. You’re still seeing rainbows of colors and stars when he brings the wet finger to your mouth and shoves it past your lips, swirling the sweet tang of your juices around in your mouth.

“You taste that?” he murmurs, pulling his finger out of your mouth and inserting it in his own. He takes his time, cleaning the last remnants of your slick from the digit. “That’s how you’ve got me so wrapped around your finger.” His words make your head spin, like you’ve had one too many shots of his favorite bourbon that he always keeps a steady supply of.

“Your turn.” Your words even sound slurred as you bring your fists to his chest, urging him backwards onto the seat opposite of you. You take his place on the floor of the limousine, crawling towards where he’s now lounging with his large thighs already spread wide for you.

You’re about to reach for the button of his jeans when he leans forward, grabbing the tail-end of your tank top and quickly tugging it over your head. You’re left bare before him and you’re hit with a wave of relief that these windows are tinted beyond what’s legal in the state of New Mexico.

His eyes travel from your thighs and up your stomach as he sweeps your hair over your shoulders, giving him an unhindered view of your breasts.

“My girl,” he hums, not taking his eyes off of you as he pops the button at the top of his pants and tugs down the zipper. “My pretty girl.”

“Yours,” you agree, butterflies mixing with arousal in your gut as you help him pull the restrictive fabric of his jeans and boxers down until they bunch around his ankles. His cock springs free, hard and leaking pre-cum down around the head.

You feel saliva pool in your mouth at the sight. As many times as you've had his impressive length inside you, you don't think it'll ever not make your mouth water.

You take the base of him in one hand, languidly pumping him as you lean forward, gathering all of the spit in your mouth and releasing it over the tip of his cock. You continue to stroke him, smearing the wetness down his length.

He groans, deep and guttural as he throws his head back against the seat. You can't see, but you know that his eyes have snapped shut at the pleasure.

When you've got him fully lubricated, you ease the tip of him into your mouth and swirl your tongue around his head. He brings a hand to the back of your head and pulls you forward, cramming more of himself into your mouth. You open wider to accommodate his length as it juts against the back of your throat.

“Fuck, honey,” he grunts when you pause to adjust to the stretch that you're feeling in your jaws. “You always take me so well. Never had anyone make me feel as good as you do.”

You moan around his dick at the praise, feeling your own arousal budding again in your lower belly. You pull back until only half of him is left inside your mouth, and then slowly begin to bob up and down, the tip of him repeatedly jabbing against the back of your throat. What little of his length that you can't take at one time, you continue to stroke in your hand. Your free hand comes to cup his balls, massaging them in rhythm with the thrusts of your mouth on his cock. You can feel tears begin to leak out of the corners of your eyes and down your cheeks from the lack of oxygen.

Right when you feel him begin to twitch against your tongue, he threads his fingers through your hair and yanks you off of him.

“You said you wanted to ride me until we both came, yeah?” He wraps his hands around the tops of your arms, pulling you upwards and onto his lap. You're too light headed to speak so you just nod quickly, adjusting your position across his lap. His cock is pressed against his lower stomach, lodged between the wet lips of your cunt and his happy trail.

“I want you to do just that.” He grabs you by the hips, pulling you forward along his shaft. You raise up on the balls of your feet as he takes himself in his fist, running his tip through your folds to lubricate himself with your juices before stopping at your hole. He juts his hips upwards at the same time that you sink down, causing the entirety of his length to be sheathed inside you at once.

“Oh my god,” you groan as you adjust to the sheer size of him. He always stretches you so painfully sweet. You steady yourself with your hands on his broad shoulders, realizing that he’s still in a two day old t-shirt. He reads your mind and yanks the fabric over his head. You take in the sight before you - all of the defined planes of his chest, his body hair that you love to run your fingers through when you’re riding him, that one vein that bulges on his bicep that you just want to trace with your tongue -

You raise up again, until he’s almost all the way out of you and only the head of his cock remains inside you before you sink back down all at once, earning an animalistic growl from him. You repeat the ministrations until you have acclimated to his size. You begin to increase your speed, the sound of your ass bouncing off of his thighs echoing around the limited space of the limosuine’s cab.

“So goddamn tight,” he spits through gritted teeth, one hand coming to plant a firm grasp on your asscheek. He digs his fingers into the meat with enough force to leave bruises but it only spurs on your movements. You liked it - the idea of being marked by him, even if it wasn’t something that anyone else would ever be able to see. “Always feel like you were made for me.”

You let out a pathetic whimper at his words, not knowing what to say or do to convey your emotions in that moment other than to lower your lips to his. He immediately opens his mouth to you, letting your tongue inside to merge with his. His taste was so comforting and familiar to you - tobacco and peppermint and something uniquely Logan. You didn’t think you’d find a flavor quite like it in anyone else, and you never wanted to test that theory.

“I was,” you whine breathlessly when you finally pull away. “Was made for you.”

He begins to meet your bounces with thrusts of his own, hitting the sweet spot of your cervix just right with each movement.

“Say it,” he grunts - you can tell he’s close by his movements growing erratic beneath you. “Wanna hear you say that you’re mine.”

You can feel your second orgasm building with every word that he says. He brings his free hand in between your bodies, finding your clit right away. He massages you with his thumb and you come around his cock with a cry of his name.

“I am,” you pant through your orgasm as he continues to thrust up into you. “I am yours, I’ve been yours, just yours.” Your admission sends him over the edge and he spills into you from below, both of his arms wrapping around your lower back and pulling your bare chest against his.

“You mean that?” he murmurs against the sweat-coated skin of your collarbone. You lean back enough to look down at him, cradling his jawline in the palm of your hand.

“I do,” you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper. “But only if you’re mine, too,” you add with a small, nervous laugh.

“I've been yours since the day we met, princess. Just had a hard time believing you could want me in the same way.”

You snort a laugh at the confession that sounds so ridiculous to you, and then bring your lips to his once more to show him just how badly you absolutely do want to be his.

thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are always very appreciated 💕

other logan works by me: straight to my head • claw kink drabble • dog tag drabble

#logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #logan x you #old!logan x reader #old!logan #logan howlett smut #logan smut #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett one-shot #logan howlett one shot #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine imagine

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space-cowgirllll · 16 days

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Tolerate It

pls enjoy this kinda angsty little thing I wrote a couple of months ago when I was really going through it in a relationship and have been too shy to post anywhere until today. I miiiiight have the second part to this halfway done. If this sucks I'm so sorry lmao it’s very lightly proofread and I have not written anything that hasn't had to be turned in for a grade in years.

Part Two

You sit alone at the table wondering how you ended up here. The dinner you'd spent the better part of the evening preparing grows cold as you sip on what has to be your third glass of wine. From your spot you can see Abby standing at the counter, speaking softly into the phone while she reads through the mail that had piled up over the last week. You pick at your food, hoping she'll join you eventually, but when fifteen minutes turns into twenty and then thirty five, you realize you're wasting your time. The laughter from the other room tells you the work part of the call ended long ago. Pushing your chair back, not caring when the loud noise earns you a glare from Abby, you gather your plate and blow out the candles at the center of the table.

Abby moves to sit on the loveseat in the living room after her call. It doesn't take long for her to get lost in the new book she had just brought home. Your eyes shift to the untouched plate of food still waiting for her in the dining room and then to the apple in her hand. The sound of your throat clearing catches her attention.

"Your plate is still at the table if you want it, babe." You gesture to the lone plate at her usual spot.

There's a pang in your chest at the sight of the floral arrangement you'd chosen for the week. Behind that, strong wind pelts rain at the window. The gloomy weather a perfect representation of the storm brewing inside you.

"I thought I told you I had an early dinner with a couple of colleagues."

"Oh."

It comes out as a whisper. Not bothering to tell her she hadn't called you back after her lunch break. Again. You make a mental note to put the plate away before bed, knowing she'll pack it for tomorrow.

Your arms are elbow deep in soapy water, trying to rush through the last couple of dishes before she retreats to her study. The clanking of pots and pans fills the quiet space. You scrub at a particularly stubborn spot, trying to think of a way to bring it up without sounding too obvious.

"How was work today?"

"Fine." Your wife replies, not elaborating further.

"It's the twenty first, right?" There's some hesitation in the question.

"Yup."

Okay.

She doesn't look up from her book when you shuffle past her a little while later, placing a steaming mug on the coffee table. Her hand caresses the soft skin of your thigh and you perk up when she mumbles a soft thanks, placing a quick kiss on her temple. The sleeping cat on her lap stirs when you give him a gentle scratch behind the ear.

You settle into the sofa across from her and watch her read. She's in the cotton pajamas and fuzzy socks you'd laid out in the closet for her. It makes you feel ridiculously overdressed. Your hands fist the skirt of your dress, feeling foolish. There's a dark spot on the satin material from leaning over the wet counter.

The record player in the far corner of the room catches your attention. You miss the nights where she'd play you one of her favorites and dance with you around the living room before letting you sit on her lap as she read out loud to you. You never thought you would miss those boring medical journals. These days you're lucky if you get more than an hour with her before she locks herself in her study.

It hadn't always been like this. The two of you have been together longer than you've been apart. Visions of eleven year old Abby teaching you how to braid her hair for soccer practice flash in your head. Crawling into her bed in the middle of the night after another nasty fight between your parents. Summer vacations to her family's lake house. Her and her parents at every dance recital and play you'd ever been part of in high school. Realizing at sixteen that your feelings for the girl weren't so platonic. Then moving into the spare bedroom down the hall from her a year later after coming out to your family. Prom dress shopping with her and her mother, sneaking kisses in the tiny fitting rooms. The Anderson's were the family you never had.

Navigating young adulthood with Abby had been fun. You'd rented a tiny apartment in Seattle and paid way too much for it while attending university. It wasn't much, but it was home. You remember the dance parties in the tiny living room. The time the blonde begged you to let her keep the tiny cat she'd found in an alley on the way home one random afternoon. Going on dates and exploring the city. Staying up late and fantasizing about what life would look like in ten years. The look on her face as her thumb rubbed small circles on the exposed skin of your belly after you'd shown her your list of baby names. Getting married just after graduation.

Abby had never been too busy to show you how much she loved you, no matter how busy she got with school. Packing your meals for work, making sure your car had enough gas in it, organizing stay at home date nights whenever your schedules aligned. And you doing the same for her when she was up to her eyebrows in work for school.

The notes were your favorite. They had started appearing randomly after you'd been unexpectedly laid off. You'd been moping around the house for weeks, losing hope after not hearing back from any of the companies you'd applied to. Always in your favorite color, the purple post it notes could be found stuck to the wherever you'd see them first thing in the morning. The silly declarations of love and the affirmations always made you smile.

Those days were long gone. You were slowly going from high school sweethearts to two people who simply co-existed. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, it was getting harder to deny the lack of warmth in her eyes when she looked at you sometimes. Today proved what you had been too afraid to admit to yourself. The only person who had ever felt like home has slowly started becoming a stranger that slipped into your bed later and later each night.

Your eyes start stinging and you bite down on your lower lip. There's no way you're breaking down in front of her, not tonight. The warmth radiating from the fireplace does little to keep away the chill running through your body. Shaky hands bring the mug to your lips, hoping some tea would calm the nausea swirling in your stomach. You're not surprised to find yourself unable to keep drinking after a few tiny sips. Abby's favorite mug grows cold on the coffee table and you're positive she doesn't even remember it's there.

The sound of her phone ringing startles you both. Abby snatches the phone off the counter, a tired sigh leaves her parted lips when she sees who's calling. She jogs up the steps, intently listening to whoever is on the other end of the phone. You pick at the chipping nail polish on your left hand, watching the way your engagement ring glints in the dim light of the fire. Your stomach dips as you slip the stack off your finger, placing them in the small bowl on the coffee table.

"Are you going somewhere?" Your head shoots up to where she's standing in the threshold. The sight of her in a fresh pair of navy blue scrubs doesn't surprise you. Her loose bun traded for a tight braid that hangs over her shoulder.

"No. Why would I be?"

She gestures at your dress. Eyes roaming over your face, finally noticing the makeup you'd carefully applied hours before. You see her lock in on your empty hand, her sculpted brows furrow in confusion. Please say something. You beg, just wanting to understand why this is happening. Was she so busy she couldn't even bother to ask what's wrong? Did she even care anymore?

The constant buzzing of the phone in her tote bag answers your question for you. She shakes her head and turns to the door, stopping to slip her feet into her sneakers. You follow silently behind her, wondering if you should say something.

"Abigail?"

She hums in acknowledgment, not bothering to look up from her phone. Her fingers move at lightning speed across the touchscreen. Your nails dig into the palm of your hand, fighting the urge to snatch her phone and chuck it against the wall.

"What?" She asks again when you don't speak up. The look of annoyance on her face has you taking a step back.

"Nevermind," you turn towards the coat closet, pulling out her winter jacket. "It doesn't matter." You don't have to look back to know she's rolling her eyes.

"I should be back before you leave for work." You busy yourself with the already organized closet, pretending to move things around while she gathers the rest of her things.

"Be careful." You mumble, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from flowing. Not trusting yourself to say much more without your throat closing.

"Always am." She plants a kiss on the back of your head and heads out the door. It's only when you hear the sound of her car pulling away that you let yourself cry. No longer caring about the mascara that is certainly smearing.

Unsteady legs carry to the foot of the stairs where you collapse into a pathetic heap. Tears freely flowing down your cheeks, further staining the material of your dress. Your hands harshly pull at the fabric, wanting nothing more than to rip it off. The pins in your hair clatter loudly on the floor as you harshly pull them out.

Your sobs echo throughout the empty house. Pain radiates through your body, from somewhere in your chest to the tips of your fingers. The nausea has increased tenfold. You inhale sharply, resting your head on your knees. Watery eyes fixed on the front door your wife had just walked out of, this gut wrenching feeling of loneliness overwhelms you.

"Happy anniversary Abby."

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby x you #abby anderson angst #abby anderson x female reader

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ghostlyangels1204 · 3 months

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Needy 141 has my heart... CW: tooth-rotting fluff (I'm feeling self-indulgent.) Romance, mostly SFW, but Johnny is a menace...

☽ Price His face nestles into the crook of your neck, feather-light kisses peppered on your skin as he gently sways you both. A mock dance in the morning sun. His morning coffee left to go cold, opting to lay all his attention on you instead. Hands gripping- close to clawing- at your hips, deep chuckles reverberating on your skin as he feels you wiggle in his hold. He tugs gently at your clothes, hands roaming all over your exposed skin. "Someone's friendly this mornin'...", you muse. His lips settled on the top of your head; rough, calloused fingers weaving through your hair as he breathes in your scent. "Dunno what you're on about, love...",

☽ Simon The sun rose particularly bright this morning, the light breaking through the blinds of your shared bedroom. Your little haven. As you attempt to move from the almost-blinding light, you're fixed in place. A pathetic second attempt makes your head turn over, only to spot Simon. The man is deep in sleep, an odd calm washed over his face... and two huge thighs wrapped around you- effectively fusing you in place. Like the beast he is, no wriggling or poking does anything to stir him enough into releasing his iron-like grip on you. "Siiiiii...", "Mhm?", "Can you move, I need the bathroom..." His eyes parted ever so slightly, before quickly closing them again. "Go later... 'mm comfy'..."

☽ Kyle He had been listening to your day debrief for the last 20 minutes. From the woman who tried to take the last block of cheese in the shops today, to the fluffy stray cat you saw whilst on your morning walk. Every little detail of your day was laid out for him. The pair of you do this every night, talk. Sometimes about absolutely nothing. Trivial things that make him feel more like a civilian than he normally does. In the middle of your complaining about your broken umbrella, he tugs you into his arms. The limbs coming to circle around your midsection, holding you under his chin. A soft kiss planted on the crown of your head, as he tucks you in closer to his bare chest. The warmth radiating off him, like an extra blanket. "Was my umbrella boring you,?", "Not at all love... tell me more..."

☽ Johnny He's a menace. There's no doubt in your mind. The man couldn't go more than a few minutes without invading your space. You could be sitting on the sofa, peacefully reading or watching something before he comes up to you- occasionally, and quite literally, sitting himself down on your lap. "I'm gonna hop in the shower really quick, we need to leave in 45 minutes, okay!" But, of course, instead of getting ready like you had told him to so the pair of you could leave on time, Johnny had resorted to, quite literally, scratching at the door so he could shower with you. Ignoring his "ach' Bonnie pleaseeeeee!" and, "CMON' WOMAN!", you attempt to shower in peace. Only to hear him prying at the lock, before swinging the door open. The shower curtain flies open, with him now in front of you proclaiming, "HERE'S JOHNNY!" A normal shower could never be had with Johnny, because he forgot to take his clothes off before pushing you against the shower wall...

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won4kiss · 2 months

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𖠵 . ׅ ࣪ ⌇𝐼𝑇’𝑆 𝐴 𝐷𝐴𝑇𝐸 !

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 𝑆urgeon rival! 𝓁ee 𝒽eeseung x 𝑓! reader 𝒢enre. angst 𝓢ynopsis. in which your rival takes an argument too far ! 𝑤𝑐 𐙚ㅤㅤ 1402 ⸝⸝ not proof read argument surgery mentioned cursing kissing ୭ৎ — 𝓁ibrar𝓎 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

PLEASE LIKE & REBLOG ! ໒꒰ྀི ≧ ᗜ ≦ ꒱ྀིა

THE STERILE SCENT OF THE ANTISEPTIC FILLED THE AIR AS YOU SCRUBBED IN FOR ANOTHER GRUELING AND TIRESOME SURGERY.

as a cardiothoracic surgeon at one of the top hospitals in the country, you were used to the high-pressure environment.

however, one thing you could never get used to was working alongside lee heeseung.

heeseung, with his sharp intellect and even sharper tongue, and his annoyingly angelic face— contrasting to his devilish personality was your professional rival.

as much as you hated to admit— he was as brilliant as he was infuriating, and every time your paths crossed, sparks flew—mostly in the form of heated arguments.

today was no different. you glanced at heeseung through the glass of the scrub room, noticing the way his jaw tightened as he prepared for the surgery. — more under cut !

he caught your eye and held your gaze for a moment longer than necessary with a small grin before it faded into a cocky smirk looking away, a silent challenge lingering in the air.

as you walked into the room, you felt yourself immediately grow agitated already at heeseung’s words.

“are you sure you should be near this patient, it would be a shame to put him at risk because of some dumbass with no surgical skills whatsoever..” he finished as the nurses around you sighed at the bickering to come.

“come on lee, you’re annoying everyone in the damn room. shut your pretty mouth and put those hands to use.”

“oh i know how to put these hands to use alright—“

“oh my fucking god, lee heeseun—“

before you could rebuttal, the nurse interrupted.

“um— the patient is under now.. could you do your job and talk about ‘putting those hands to use’ later?”

you winced at how informally you were talking in front of the nurses— lee heeseung sure does bring out the worst in you, alright.

“right… I’m sorry everyone!”

as the surgery began, you fell into the familiar rhythm, focusing on the delicate sutures and balance required to save a life.

the patient, a middle-aged man with severe coronary artery disease, was in an extreme critical condition.

every move had to be precise, every decision planned and flawless.

despite the tension between you and heeseung, both you and heeseung were professionals, completely focused on the task at hand.

the surgery proceeded smoothly until a complication arose—an unexpected tear in the arterial wall.

"we need to act fast," you said, your voice steady despite the panic and urgency.

"i know," heeseung replied tensely. "suction, now!"

you worked in quiet, the room silent except for the beeping of monitors and the soft clink of instruments.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, the crisis was under control, and the patient's condition stabilized.

as you stepped back, heeseung's eyes met yours again.

"good work," he said, but there was no warmth in his tone, only a grudging edge.

he was usually in a positive mood after a surgery had finished, but today something different— cold, almost angry sparked in his bambi eyes, leaving you in a sour mood.

the surgery had taken its toll, and you were completely exhausted.

you headed to the break room, hoping for even a small moment of peace with your growing headache, but heeseung followed you.

you could feel his eyes boring into your back as you poured yourself a cup of coffee.

"do you ever think before you act?" he snapped, breaking the silence.

you turned to face him, frowning at his accusatory tone.

"what are you on about now, lee?"

"if you hadn't hesitated, maybe we wouldn't have had that complication," he said, his words like a slap to the face.

you felt your blood boil. "are you seriously blaming me for that? we both know it was an unpredictable complication."

heeseung's eyes flashed with anger. "maybe if you paid more attention to the patient's history, you would have anticipated it."

“are you kidding me, heeseung? please, i can’t do this today—“

unfortunately, heeseung failed to notice the trembling in your voice and continued the growing argument.

“you can’t do this today? be so serious y/n, that man almost died today— you almost killed that man!”

the argument escalated quickly, voices rising as accusations flew back and forth.

finally, heeseung said something that cut deeper than any scalpel.

"maybe if you were more competent, our patient wouldn't have been at such risk of death because of you and you only!."

the room fell silent. his words hung in the air, heavy and unforgivable.

you felt your throat tighten, tears threatening to spill. without another word, you turned and walked out, leaving heeseung standing there, a look of shock and regret on his face.

days passed, and you avoided heeseung like the plague.

you switched shifts, took your breaks at odd times, and even walked the long way around the hospital to avoid running into him.

you knew it was petty— but you couldn't help it.

his words had hurt more than you wanted to admit.

heeseung, for his part, seemed increasingly frustrated. you could see him out of the corner of your eye, his gaze following you whenever you were in the same room.

he tried to approach you several times, but you always found a way to slip away before he could say anything.

your colleagues noticed the growing tension and ultimately decided on avoiding the two of you in the same room altogether.

it wasn't until you found yourself alone in the on-call room that heeseung had finally managed to corner you.

you were resting on the stiff bunk bed, trying to catch a few minutes of sleep when the door swung open.

to your surprise— heeseung stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of determination and desperation.

“oh, you’ve got to be kidding me—“

"we need to talk, y/n.." he said, closing the door behind him.

you sat up, crossing your arms defensively.

"there's nothing to talk about."

"yes, there is," he insisted, stepping closer.

"look— i didn't mean what i said the other day. i was angry and tired, and i took it out on you. it wasn't fair, and i'm sorry."

you looked away, the hurt still fresh. "you can't just say something like that and expect everything to be okay."

heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"i know. and i don't expect you to forgive me right away. but it hurts when you ignore me. we work together, and i... i can't stand the thought of you hating me."

you felt a pang of sympathy despite yourself.

"heeseung, it's not that easy. you really hurt me this time."

"i know," he said softly.

"and i'd do anything to make it right. even if it means losing all my dignity saying this."

you couldn't help it—a small giggle escaped your lips.

the idea of the usually stoic heeseung talking about losing his dignity was too much.

heeseung's eyes lit up at the sound, and a soft smile spread across his face.

"there it is," he said gently.

"that's the smile i've missed."

you shook your head, still smiling.

"you're impossible, lee heeseung."

heeseung took a step closer, his expression earnest.

"i mean it. i'm really sorry. can we.. start over?"

you hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"okay lee. but you owe me."

heeseung grinned. "anything you want. just name it."

"how about a date?" you suggested, your eyes widened, surprising yourself with your boldness.

heeseung's eyes widened in surprise, then softened. "a date? i'd like that."

he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. the touch was warm, comforting.

slowly, he leaned in, his lips nearly touching yours as he looked into your eyes with a gentleness.

“can i…”

“get on with it already, heeseung—“

suddenly his lips crashed against yours, meeting yours in a soft, delicate kiss.

it was gentle, feeling all the unspoken words and feelings from all these years of working together, bickering and the childish arguments.

when you finally pulled away, heeseung was smiling.

"so, about that date... when are you free?"

you giggled, the tension between you finally broken.

"how about tonight after our shift ends?"

"it's a date," he said, his eyes sparkling with genuine happiness and adoration.

as you left the on-call room together, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things would be different from now on.

taglist open ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @greentulip @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @pockyyasii @iluvnikism

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thevoidstaredback · 4 months

Text

Every man has his breaking point. Danny's is just a bit higher than everyone else's because he's a king and has a high tolerance for absolute bull shit. No matter how strong that bar is, though, one can only bend so far before snapping.

Unfortunately for everyone around him, Danny has reached his breaking point.

"I wish I could get drunk," he stared into his drink longingly, "Or high. But mostly drunk."

"Why do ya say that?" Billy asked, tilting his head curiously to the left.

Danny sighed, "It's a long story."

"I've got time." he shrugged.

"Are ya sure?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "You don't think any emergencies are gonna crop up? Nothing you'll need to go take care of?"

Billy backed off a little, folding into his seat. "What're you talking about? I'm just some kid on the street. I ain't going anywhere."

Danny rolled his head from side to side. "Mostly, I'm talking about the JL meeting the both of us are gonna skip out on tonight."

"What-?"

"C'mon, Captain, it won't do to talk here," he stood, picking up his coffee and waiting for Billy to do the same.

Billy's eyes narrowed as he looked Danny up and down. "I don't recognise you," he whispered, "Who are you."

Danny produced another calling card from his sleeve as he sipped his drink, holding it in front of himself but not handing it over. When Billy was looking at it, he flipped it over. The white background turned matte black, all the runes in the Ouroboros turning so white that they glowed. The DP in the very middle tinted blue, pulsing with toxic green energy, slightly cold to the touch. The edges started to frost over.

Quickly, Billy pulled the card Danny had given him before from the inner pocket of his jacket. It, too, had changed to match the one Danny held, though there was no longer a DP in the middle. Instead, it said 'Phantom' in fancy calligraphy.

"No way," the kid muttered, his expression awestruck, "Phantom? That's you? No shit?"

Danny chuckled, tucking the card away again, "No shit, kid. Don't tell anyone, though. You're the only one who knows."

"Really?" he squeaked.

"Really."

***

Having someone know his whole story was refreshing, just as he's sure Billy felt good to have someone know his, too. That didn't stop him from feeling bad about dumping it all on the poor kid.

"I still wish I could get drunk," Phantom lamented."

Constantine looked up from the book he was reading. "You can't get drunk?"

"Nope."

"How'd ya figure that one out, kid?"

"Please don't call me a kid."

That's not good. The blond marked the page before setting the book to the side. Phantom had never actually asked him to stop calling him a kid. "What's wrong?" He didn't normally do the whole 'feelings' things, but the was an exception.

Phantom sighed long and sad. He didn't look up from the carpet. "I told you they were going to ask invasive questions."

"Who was it?" It was more of a demand then a question.

"Red Robin,"

"Red- I thought you would've skipped town when we were done there? I sure as hell did."

"I know you did, but I decided to stick around for a bit. Wander, y'know? Red Robin caught up to me and would leave me alone."

Oh, oh no. Those were tears. Were they? Yeah, shit, they are! John is not equipped to handle this!

Phantom sniffled. "He asked me how I died."

Fuck.

John Constantine is not easy to anger. Sure, he gets tired, and irritated, and a whole slew of emotions, but he is very slow to anger.

Phantom, he knows, is not a child. The ghost can very much take care of himself in basically every way one could think of. He saved the world on his own, several times, when he was fourteen. He became a King and Protector when he was fourteen. He died when he was fourteen.

Right now, all he could see was the child who hadn't ever been properly laid to rest. It was hard not to call Phantom a child when he seemed so small, seeking comfort from anyone. Phantom was crying. He'd retreated to the House and locked himself in Constantine's room, only talking when he was ready to, but he'd waited to cry.

Phantom didn't like crying. Every person in the JLD knew this.

No. John Constantine is not quick to anger, but he is scary when he reaches that point. Batman might be the night and vengeance and all that shit, but John Constantine was wrathful.

He sat beside Phantom and let the ghost lean into him and cry. He didn't like dealing with feelings, but this was a child in need of comfort and he was the only one around to offer it. "Do you really want me to stop calling you 'kid'?"

A sniffle and a small head shake. "No."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"...sure."

"How old are you really? As a ghost, not as a human or a halfa. How old are you?"

"Fourteen." he mumbled, "I'll never be any older than fourteen, John," he was getting a bit hysterical now, "I'll never be any older than fourteen! I-I died and-and now I have to rule and-and people keep asking and no one believes me and-!" A sob cut him off, heavy with grief and wet with tears. He cried for hours, giving up on trying to form words. Constantine let him, ignoring the wet patches on his shirt. Eventually, Phantom's sobs died down into hiccups. "I didn't...I'm- I'm sorry."

"It's alright, mate," he meant it, really and truly.

Phantom rubbed his eyes, "I'm gonna go hide somewhere."

"Not gonna share where?"

"No, I want to be alone for a while." He paused at the door, "Whatever you're gonna do, will you leave Captain Marvel out of it?"

Odd request, but, "Alright," he nodded, "I'll talk to the others." And by 'talk', he means lecture. There are boundaries that one shouldn't cross, and not asking the dead how they died should've been obvious! With his League issued communicator, John called an emergency meeting in one hour, required attendance, barring Captain Marvel. First things first, though, he needed to talk to Deadman.

Part 7 Storyboard

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cupcakeinat0r · 3 months

Text

Your loser, Middle-aged Genetics professor with a dadbod <3

pt. 7

A/n: Hey y’all! Just a quick apology for such a long wait for an update, just came back from a relaxing vacay!! But as soon as I got off the plane back home, I started writing cuz the creative juices were juicinggg <3 Anyways, enjoy <333 Hopefully this serves as a good apology ;)

4 exams down, 3 more to go. The finish line of the semester was so close yet so far. Not gonna lie, your sanity was hanging on by a rope, your strongest and only support system being one person. He was the most sweetest, smartest, and respectful person you have ever had the blessing of meeting. It may not have been in the most conventional (or convenient) of ways, but still, it couldn’t have felt more like the storybook that you wanted and dreamed your life would be. Amidst your academic tribulations, he made you feel like royalty.

Even now, as you wait in the library and your phone goes off with a notification from Miguel, whom you had referred to as ‘Professor O’Hara’ only just a few months ago, you are still in dreamland with the fact that you were—

Well, at this point, you two haven’t quite fleshed out the label of y’all’s relationship just yet, but for now, you tell yourself that you two are talking. So yes, even now, you truly can’t believe that you are talking with your adorable professor.

You mentally take note that this will be a conversation that you two will have to have in the near future.

Your attention is now on your phone, reading a message under the contact name ‘Mig 🤓’.

“We ended earlier than planned. Headed over there now❤️”

You smile at the message, already typing a response up.

The night he told you about his late daughter was almost a week ago, and since then, y’all have set aside a day to go to the public library. You both agreed that it was nice, quality time, and wanted to do something like that again; just talking, being with each other, and forget about school for a while. Plus, exams have sort of kept yall apart for the past week, so it was very much needed.

Now you wait at the library where you and Miguel agreed to meet at after he finishes a recitation he had to substitute for.

‘ “Ended earlier than planned” ??? You’re not slick, DID YOU END CLASS EARLIER TO COME HERE???’

‘No, of course not, I would never do that.’

…

‘But maybe.’

‘Uhuh... See you soon <3’

‘See you soon, mamita ❤️😘.’

With a content hum, you put down your phone and turn your face toward the quiet buzz of people reading, chatting over coffee, and studying. Even though it's been months since knowing Miguel, you still feel jitters when about to see him. You can't help it. Everything about him makes you nervous in the best possible way. From how his smile lines crease, how that one little curl falls on his face, how he always speaks to you with a slight pout, the way his sweater vests hug around his full chest and soft tummy, all the way to how he looks at you like you’re his muse. You couldn't stop smiling just thinking about him. And to think, everyone in class just thought he was a total killjoy; backs straighten and all conversations cease when he enters the room. If only they knew the real him, but a part of you is glad you're the only one to see it.

Just a couple of blocks down, Miguel is gathering his things, excited to meet up with you. As he sharply nods to the last few students leaving the room, wishing them a good Summer break and luck on their finals, his expression becomes soft as he thinks of you. Quickly, once he has the room to himself, he takes a minute to put on one or two sprays of his best cologne, fix his hair, and remove his tie. He knew how much you liked it when he wore his button-ups like this; a few left unopened at the top. He felt ridiculous, but you always commented on it, and it would make Miguel feel good.

That was another thing; since seeing you, Miguel's confidence has so much improved. He did, however, take a glance over at his cardigan that hung on the back of his swivel chair and contemplated wearing it. It used to be his safety net; an effort to try and hide his soft figure, but that was old Miguel. New Miguel wanted to impress you and, even though he’d never admit it, would try to get the most compliments out of you. Despite feeling like he let himself go, you made him feel like he was a total knock-out, which never failed to make his cheeks grow darker, and he plans to return the favor for however long you’ll have him.

Miguel arrives, scanning the enormous room for you, a bright, colorful speck among the sea of dark-colored apparel. You wore an outfit he had bought you during the semester. He’s indifferent when looking for you, but when he spots you, his lips curled just slightly, the crows feet of his face creasing. He glides across the room, but any faster, he’d be running. He tries to act collected, but you both know he’s ecstatic to see you.

"Hey mama," He stands before you, holding out your hands as if to exhibit an art piece, "You look beautiful today, as always”. His eyes graze over every single inch of you, up and down. There’s something sexy about seeing you in something he bought you, even if it wasn’t all that exposing. You go in for a hug, acting as if you haven’t seen him in weeks (You both see each other in the hallways like every day, y'all just haven't been able to be with each other in a minute).

You smile against his broad chest, "Thanks, cutie, and you look handsome, as per usual.” You give his thick torso a soft run down with your hands. Miguel looks around bashfully, even though no one is paying attention. Physical touch came easy for him when you two were alone, but in public? That’s another story.

You look up to see his wandering eyes fall back on you. “I’ve missed you,” you shift all your weight onto him, holding onto his waist like a koala bear on a tree. You get on your tip toes to reach his cheek, pressing a kiss there, “mwah! so much.” The simple gesture was enough to turn Miguel into a mess. It takes everything in him not to completely smother you out in the open, but would rather save that for when there’s privacy.

Miguel holds you as if you were a porcelain doll. Something rose in his chest, call it pride; Proud to show off the gorgeous woman in his arms. "I missed you more." He says softly.

"So? How was the class?" you hold onto his hand while looking for a place to live in for the afternoon.

Miguel looks as well and spots a vacant, quiet little corner of the library, one that sits almost separate from the rest of the crowd. He gives your hand a small tug, motioning for it. "It was actually quite nice. The students were pretty engaged for it being an 8AM... I dunno, I might pick it up next semester." He sets his bag down before grabbing you a chair for you to sit on, as well as a cushion for you to lay your back on. He grabs a stool for himself once he sees you're comfortable and sat.

You give his forearm a caress, a small act of encouragement, "Well, I think you should. You're so good at what you do. Trust me, I should know." you give him a smirk, making him crack a smile.

"Which reminds me, you feel good for tomorrow? 'cuz if you're needing review for anything, we could go over it right now-" You place a hand on his arm, "Mig! I'm fine! I feel completely fine. Besides, I've tutored over a dozen people, I pretty much know the material like the back of my hand. Please, relax, you need it."

Miguel sits back now, "But if you change your mind, you'll let me know, right?" You nod, and Miguel relaxes at last. He sees the book you pull out and reads the spine of it. Wuthering Heights. It’s one of Miguel’s personal faves. He looks forward to seeing your small reactions once you get toward the end. It was endearing the way you reacted to what you read, let it be a faint widening of your eyes or a small gasp. He also loved watching your concentrated face. He thinks back to all those lectures he spent watching you take your color-coordinated notes in his class, your glossed lips pursed and your eyebrows faintly knitted. It never went unnoticed by him. Adorable.

You do a double-take at Miguel's choice of book, not believing what you read the first time. "Jane Austen?" "…Yes?" "You like Jane Austen?" "Yes. " Miguel says this so matter-of-factly, it leaves you kind of in shock. It was a cute surprise. Smiling, you let a puff of air out your nose, shaking your head as you open your book. “What’s so funny?” Miguel smiles, wanting know what you’re thinking now.

“Ugh, I-“, You almost let a certain 3-word phrase slip from your lips, but you stop yourself. “ I… just wasn’t expecting that, is all. Have you read ‘pride and prejudice’?”

“Yeah, loved it. It’s why I’m reading this one.” He looks down at the cover, which, in intricate letters, reads sense and sensibility. Your smile is even wider now that you know the man of your dreams is a fellow Jane Austen fan. “Me, too. Let me know what you think, then.” You softly say, starting on your book. “Of course. By the way, anyone ever taught you not to judge a book by its cover?” You roll your eyes and nudge him, making him chuckle in his throat. Although Miguel’s humor wasn’t exactly the most original, his sass takes the cake, and you love it. Feeling romantic, Miguel leans over and kisses your cheek once, twice, then gently brings your lips to his by your chin to plant a third kiss.

After finally quenching his need for your kisses, he settles in his spot and reaches for your hand, which you grab instinctively. Like always, his thumb caresses across your knuckles, and you both fall into a peaceful silence, transporting to your individual worlds within your books.

The time in the library is nothing short of peaceful and fun. The first while of reading, Miguel would get up to use the restroom, but on his way back, he would’ve gotten you a cup of coffee for you and himself. A little later, you’d get up as well, but not for the restroom, but to grab him a treat, as well as for yourself. His eyes widen in pleasant surprise when he sees you walk back with them in your hands. He always did have a sweet tooth.

For the rest of the time, you’ll reach over occasionally to push his glasses back up his nose, or sometimes, without looking up from his book, he’ll simply pull your hand up to his lips, and press a butterfly kiss there, the faint smack of the peck making your heart skip a beat. And he doesn’t just do it once, he has to do this every so often because he just can’t resist; the man needs to feel you like as if you’ll disappear out of nowhere.

And you don’t notice, but every now and then, Miguel looks over at you, just admiring. He watches how your eyes inch deeper into the pages as you soak in the language. He can stay like this forever. Reading books with you while you hold hands. For a second, he feels the bottom of his stomach drop because he knows the day will have to end, and he’ll have to go back to class tomorrow, as do you. Sure, you’ll both be in the classroom, but you’ll have to pretend. Miguel was growing tired of the game. He then thinks about how near Summer is, and if he’ll see you then. Not as your professor, but as someone who deeply cares about you.

He’s already making plans on the possible trips you two could make. Maybe spend two weeks in Italy, or maybe just simple weekend roadtrips to nearby, quaint towns. He’s thinking about taking you to only the nicest, fanciest places in Nueva York.

Guiltily, his mind wanders into trips to the bedroom. How he’d love to take care of you and make sure you felt loved. Above all, your pleasure would be his. Oh, how he’d worship you like the goddess you were because dammit, you are one, and to this day, he’s still unsure how he scored you. How he, the intimidating, quiet giant, won an ethereal princess like you. He sort of smiled to himself as he realized:

Gabriella’s favorite bedtime story was becoming his life right before his eyes.

And like many times before, Miguel’s mind wanders even more. He’s thinking of the wedding, the honeymoon and the endless amount of rounds, the baby shower… having a kid with you. He’s fully aware of how crazy it is to think about it so soon, but at the same time, it feels so right. With you, it does.

Your caring, attentive nature, sweetness, cleverness, patience, and drive, they were all qualities of someone he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with. Your desire to better yourself and hunger for knowledge is evident in your work for your masters. Your softness that had so remarkably torn down his walls. And of course, there was your unmistakable beauty, but that’s just a bonus!

As he continues to watch you read, your hand lovingly locked with his, he realizes his feelings are no longer casual, no. Miguel’s breath hitches when a realization dawns on him. Rather than a ton of bricks, it feels like a weight lifted off his stiffened shoulders.

He looks at you, and he feels what could only be described as true, total, and complete love.

“‘Scuse me, sir.” Miguel snaps toward the low voice, “Library’s closing in 10 minutes.”

These hushed words sweep your attention from the book in your hands, your face falling in small dismay. You both look at each other, Miguel giving you a shrug that conveys ‘it is what it is’.

“Aw man, I got so caught up in reading, I feel like we didn’t get to talk as much as I wanted to.” Miguel is gathering both of yalls things, leaving your hand for last. You grab his, and you both begin to head out, the swarm of people that was here before gone. “We can still talk if you’d like. We can go to my office?” You nod gingerly.

“Then c’mon, let’s go.” Without asking, he grabs your bag from you and slings his and yours onto his shoulder, and you both leave hand in hand.

After braving the storm that seemed to come out of nowhere outside, Miguel lets you into his office first, closing the door behind you two. The campus was dimly lit, only housing a few students who were doing some late-night studying. Hopefully, no one saw you two shuffling toward his classroom.

You look around his office, and for the first time, if feels new. It’s somewhat dark, the storm outside supplying the only light in the room. You’ve been in here countless of times, helping Miguel out with class work or tutoring, so it shouldn’t feel any different, yet, it does. Maybe it’s because every time you’re in here, you’ve never got the chance to really look at it. You’re always in and out. And if y’all weren’t in here, you were sitting in the lecture hall just outside the office door. Now that the fluorescent lights are off, you realize just how clinical they made it feel in here.

Miguel observes how you look along his walls where a multitude of diplomas hang. He thinks about saying something, but doesn’t want to interrupt; instead, he allows you to examine his space, finding it charming. It’s like he’s letting you in on his life. He pretends to busy himself with something else, leaving you to explore. Which is fine, really. You two have fallen into many comfortable silences before.

Then you move onto his shelf, filled with nothing but books and maybe one picture frame, but you’re not sure. It’s laid flat on the shelf. You go away from it for a second, going back to the spines, reading them off in your head. Some DNA encyclopedias, anatomy studies, Genetic Theory… ah, here we go. Leroux, Fitzgerald, Verne… is that Shelley? Atwood? Woolf? Plath?! Then, of course, there’s Beauty and The Beast. You pause there for a second, remembering Miguel’s most cherished memories that are tied to this story. Some more Jane Austen… oh, and look, Wuthering Heights!

“You’re more than welcome to take any of those. What’s mine is yours.” He sits on the couch that sits along the wall of his office, laying back with his arm laid across the frame of it. You pull out Wuthering Heights and walk towards him, “What’d you think of this one?” You go to take a seat next to him, nuzzling against his side, your head at its assigned spot on his shoulder. “Nice try, sweetie, but don’t wanna spoil it. Though I will say, it’s really good.” his face brightens along with yours, “I think you’ll like it. Brace yourself for the ending, though.” His arm wraps around you now, his thumb making small circles on your shoulder like he usually does.

“How about Miss Austen?” You put the book on a small table beside the couch. Miguel thinks about it for a second. “She’s got this sort of sarcastic wit that I can really get behind. But in all seriousness, her social commentary is brilliant. Still applies to this day, in some ways. And her style, wow…” You can see Miguel get lost in his thoughts, his emotions having their rare time in the limelight as he proceeds to list off Jane Austen’s wonderful writing attributes. It felt so good to see him like this. To be able to get him talking like this was a big win in your book.

“…Just overall, I’m a total fan now.” He nods, looking over at your dazzling eyes. “No, no, keep going.” You urge him, overcome with adoration. Miguel smiles at the floor, shaking his head. “I can listen to you talk allll day, honestly.” He looks off into the office still smiling bashfully, away from your revering gaze. “D’aw, don’t be so shy, I love listening to your voice. It’s so soothing, Mig.”

“You’re… stealing my lines.” A chuckle rumbles in his chest while you taunt him with a giggle of your own. In an effort to quiet you and from flustering him further, he envelopes you with his arms, you reaching for his neck simultaneously, and you both meet in the middle with a kiss so sweet, it could develop diabetes. With your lips locked, he grabs your thigh and swings it over his hips, his soft stomach taut against yours. You both smile against each other’s lips, soft laughs in tune with the rain that hits against walls outside.

Sooner than later, Miguel’s small chuckles turn into soft groans, his breath becoming labored. His hands venture up under your top, fingers ghosting the skin above the waistband of your skirt. You taste of… cherry lip gloss. His favorite taste, and in the past couple of weeks, he’s grown addicted to it. As a matter of fact, he’s become so addicted that he tends to bite and pull at your bottom lip, a gesture that never failed to leave you weak in the knees.

The hungry tug of your lip evoked a small whine from your throat, unleashing something in Miguel. Carefully, he laid you on the couch, your bodies entangling in languid unison with your tongues. The feeling of all of Miguel’s weight on you set a flame off within you, his length pressing along your dampened heat each time he dug his hips. You wanted it, and bad. Needed it like your life depended on it, but your conscious was screaming at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t ignore it.

“M-mig, w-wait.” You manage to breathe out, the heart between your legs unable to agree with the brain in your head. You hated stopping where things were headed, but you had reason.

Miguel’s head shot up from your neck where it was planting hickies on. “Are you okay? You wanna stop?” He’s already sitting up, removing himself from your legs, “Mama, I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked, want me to take you home? If you want to, I can take you-“ Miguel was so worried, he’d rather die than you feel taken advantage of. “Miguel! It’s okay, I’m fine!” You reassure him softly, sitting up as well to keep him seated. “Trust me, I wanted this, too. It’s not you at all. I just…” you grab his hand, thinking of your next words. Your shoulders droop from what you’re about to say. Miguel looks at you with a soft expression, ready to be here for you in any way.

“Look, we both know we shouldn’t even be here, and not just in this office, I mean being together period. And what worries me the most is not even the fact that we could get caught, but the possibility that maybe you’ll…” Miguel motions for eye contact when he sees you retreating to the floor. “Mamita, tell me, please. Dime que quieres. Nothing you say can upset me or change the way I think of you. Nothing.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m only in this for the wrong reasons.” Miguel’s brows furrow in confusion. How could he possibly think you’re using him? “Sweetie, why would I…” And it clicked just as fast as he began speaking. Miguel seemed to be going deep into thought. You were scared that maybe you had said something wrong.

“Miguel, please understand that I care about you so so so much, and because I do, I don’t want us to be intimate with each other until the school year is completely over.” You’d thought things through since becoming romantic with Miguel, and the thought that If y’all had sex, there would’ve been the risks of people finding out, you losing your eligibility for a degree that you were three exams away from obtaining, or worse, Miguel losing his job as professor and probably being blacklisted for the rest of his life. A very small part of it was also that you didn’t want your score on his exam to be affected in any which way. If you happen to not do well on the exam, you wanted the grade you deserved. There was simply too many downsides.

He looks back up at you, not a trace of judgment nor anger on his face. “Mama, you don’t have to explain yourself. The ball is in your field. Whatever you want or need, I’m right there with you. Don’t ever feel bad for what you want, okay?” Your lips curl in relief, and you nod slowly. He brings his hand to your face, allowing you to lean into his touch. “And to be honest, I couldn’t agree more. But even after classes end, even then our speed is still up to you. I’m not ready to take things further until you are.”

How lucky am I to have someone like him? I’m not entirely sure who’s up there or who to thank exactly, but oh my goodness, thank you for giving me this perfect man sitting before me.

“You mean it? I mean, you’re not disappointed or anything?” Miguel shakes his head. “Not even for a second.” Filled with joy, and almost knocking him over, you embrace him.

“We could just stay in here and chat. Would you like that?” He speaks softly against your hair. “I would love that.”

Miguel and you lay on the couch (which fits you just fine, but Miguel’s feet were borderline hanging off the end), Miguel the big spoon, and you the little one. Your head lays against the decorative pillow while he props his on his hand.

You nestled against his frame, feeling the steady rise and fall of his tummy against your back. His arm encircled your waist, holding you securely against him as you melted into each other's warmth. "Are you comfortable?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern. "Mhm, more than comfortable," you replied with a contented sigh."You make a pretty good body heater," you teased. He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "Glad I could be of service, Princesa.” He plants a sustained kiss to your temple.

Your gaze falls softly on the wall across from you, your eyes traveling along the diplomas, “Did you always wanted to be a teacher?”

“Well, when I was little, I did. I loved science and there was this one teacher I had… she was the best. Wanted to be just like her. But…” Miguel breathes out. You can feel his stomach tense up against your back, prompting you to turn your head towards him. “Y’know… um… I didn’t always teach.”

Miguel would go on to tell you how the past five years has looked for him. He began with a rather heavy start; a freak accident in his work as a geneticist, a job much more lucrative than a professor. He’d then recount his days as a hero, proceeding to show you his long-retired claws. You listened intently, with an open mind, following along to his story of how he got involved with the multiverse, and what that term entails. He explained how the world was connected to other worlds; a prodigious tree of universes. It was how he lost his daughter. He revealed the tragic story to you finally, after withholding it that first night he told you about her in the school library. He recollected a few more memories that would eventually lead to his decision to hang up his hat as Spider-Man, finding refuge in becoming a science professor; an old dream he had abandoned so many years ago.

“And since then, I’ve been… okay. Better than before, for sure. I’m satisfied here, truly.” You sat there, processing everything he had shared with you. “I know that was a lot, you don’t have to say anything. I’m just glad that I could share this with you.” You nod, trying to think of what to say because silence just wouldn’t suffice, not for you. “I…” you began, your voice low and soft, “But are you happy?”

Miguel is taken aback by the question. Even after everything he’s said…the man just got done telling you he has fangs and red irises and that he traveled across dimensions for a living, and this is your first question? If he’s happy? He told you a story that could possibly have the fbi sent to his door with just one call, but you’re more interested in his wellbeing? He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe you.

Miguel lets out a sharp breath; a chuckle, as his eyes narrow at you. “You’re unreal, you know that?” Your lips reflect his small smile, “What?! I wanna know, after everything… are you happy?” You repeat the question with utmost genuineness in your tone.

With the answer as obvious to him as the formulas he taught in his class, Miguel simply leans in, hand on the back of your head, and kisses you, then pulling back by just an inch, he speaks softly,

“Now that you’re here, I am.”

A/n: I hope y’all enjoyed it <3 Shoutout to @pomakori for sending this photo in, I absolutely loved it and had to include it in this chapter cuz it’s so them coded !!!

(Like ❓❓ this is so them‼️ n u can’t change my mind‼️)

Thank you so much for reading <3 I’m a lil worried about how long it might be, so sorry if I yapped too much on this one 🫶 I just love n care abt him sm, ur honor🥹

Want some more Dadbod!Miguel? Here’s my master list, bae!

Tags<3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi i @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow @safixiovi

@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu

@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #atsv #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction #dadbod!miguel #professor!miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel spiderman #spider man 2099 #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara smut

462 notes · View notes

popcat69 · 1 year

Text

Incorrect Tmnt quotes

Mikey: What does 'take out' mean? Donnie: Food. Leo: Dating Raph: Murder Y/n: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

Donnie: Favourite horror movie?

Mikey: It

Raph: Saw

Leo: Annabelle

Y/n: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

Leo: Croissants: dropped

Raph: Road: works ahead

Y/n: BBQ sauce: on my titties

April: Shavacado: fre

Mikey: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Donnie:

Donnie: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

Y/n: Change is inedible.

Donnie: Don't you mean inevitable?

Y/n, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

Mikey: Hey Donnie,

Donnie: Yes?

Mikey: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Donnie:

Donnie: Where’s Y/n?

Donnie: April isn’t answering their phone

Y/n: I’ll call

Donnie: Casey and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

April: Hello?

Y/n: Top 30 reasons why y/n is sorry... Number 5 will surprise you!

Raph: Top 30 anime deaths. Number One: YOUR FUCKING ASS RIGHT NOW!!!

Mikey: I'm incredibly fast at maths.

Y/n: Alright, what's 30x17?

Mikey: 47

Y/n: That's not even close.

Mikey: But it was fast.

Donnie: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?

Raph: Nope, absolutely not.

Leo: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through.

Mikey: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.

Casey: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you.

Y/n: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Splinter: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Leo: ...I did. I broke it.

Splinter: No. No you didn't. Mikey?

Mikey: Don't look at me. Look at Y/n.

Y/n: What?! I didn't break it.

Mikey: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Y/n: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Mikey: Suspicious.

Y/n: No, it's not!

Raph: If it matters, probably not, but April was the last one to use it.

April: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Raph: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

April: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Raph!

Leo: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, person A.

Splinter: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

Raph: Splinter... Donnie’s been awfully quiet.

Donnie: rEALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Splinter, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.

Splinter: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Splinter:

Splinter: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

'Can I copy the homework?'

Donnie: I can help you with it!

April: Yeah, sure.

Y/n: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Raph: lol nope.

Mikey: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Leo: *Read 5:55pm*

Leo: bitches b like “im baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches

Leo, driving y/n and April: So how was your day?

Y/n: We almost got surprise adopted!

Leo: What?

April: We almost got kidnapped.

Leo: Oh, okay.

Leo: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

3K notes · View notes

vanteguccir · 5 months

Text

── ୨୧ !　𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗠𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Matt love each other, but don't seem to have the courage to declare themselves; OR, where Matt belongs to Y/N but can't seem to understand it.

WARNING: Crying, unrequited love, angst (with a happy ending).

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @freshsturns

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It was a typical fall morning in Boston, with golden leaves dancing in the wind and the fresh scent of coffee wafting through the air. Y/N walked down the familiar street, her steps synchronized with the rapid beat of her heart, her mind full of possibilities of how to break the news; she would spend three months at her father's house, as her mother needed to travel for work continuously during that short period.

Her eyes fell on the Sturniolo's house, where the triplets, Matt, Nick, and Chris, had lived since they were teenagers.

A mixture of feelings invaded her whenever she passed by.

She and the triplets have been inseparable since childhood. They grew up together, shared secrets, laughs, and unforgettable moments. But there was something deeper between Y/N and Matt, something she held deep in her heart and feared revealing.

Matt was the middle brother out of the three, with his dark hair and piercing dead blue eyes that seemed to read her soul. He was Y/N's confidant, the one with whom she shared her most intimate dreams and her deepest fears. But there was a secret she never dared to confess: her love for him.

As Y/N walked towards the Sturniolo's house, she felt her heart beating wildly. She knew she would see Matt soon, and that thought made her nervous and excited at the same time. They saw each other every day, but each meeting was like a new chapter in an endless book.

Upon entering the cozy home, Y/N was greeted with warm smiles and affectionate hugs from Jimmy and Mary Lou. Matt, with his captivating gaze and worn-out jeans, stared at her eyes for a brief moment. A shiver ran down Y/N's spine, but she quickly looked away, fearing he might read her feelings in her gaze.

Throughout that day, Y/N and Matt shared conversations like they always did while spending time together, lost in their own bubble of happiness. The sound of their laughter echoed through the cold streets, filling the air with a contagious energy, enjoying the last minutes together before the girl had to go far away.

Matt's hair was messed up by the wind, attracting her attention, who glanced at him, lost in her thoughts. She wondered if he could hear her frantic heartbeat every time he smiled when his hair got in his mouth.

But there was a palpable tension between the two, an invisible elephant in the room that neither dared to address.

At night, when Y/N finally returned home, she sat on her bed and let the tears fall silently while preparing herself to pack her bags. She wondered if she would ever have the courage to confess her feelings to Matt or if she would continue hiding them forever.

Meanwhile, across the street, Matt was lying in his own bed, lost in thoughts about Y/N. He wondered if she could ever feel the same way about him. If she could look at him with the same love-filled eyes that he always cast her way. But the fear of ruining their friendship prevented him from taking any action.

Thus, the two friends remained trapped in a painful impasse, their hearts connected by invisible strings that neither of them dared to break.

Y/N hoped that the next three months would do something good for her.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Time had passed too fast, and soon, Y/N was back in Boston. The sun shone high in the summer sky as the girl left her house that morning, leaving her unopened suitcase to organize later, the birds chirped happily along with the frantic beats of her heart, yearning to see her best friends again.

For some reason, she knew something was different, that something had changed, but she wasn't prepared for what she would find when she met with him that afternoon.

Upon arriving at the brothers' house, Y/N was greeted by a strange silence, even with the cheerful voice of Mary Lou - who greeted her happily at the front door.

Y/N quickly found Matt sitting on the couch, next to a blonde girl, with long straight hair and an artificial smile on her lips. She was the complete opposite of Y/N in every possible way.

She felt a pang of discomfort when she saw Matt so close to that girl, her heart clenching when she noticed the brunette's arm around her shoulders, knowing the inevitable; Matt had met his perfect - or not - match.

She tried to push those feelings away and tried to convince herself that she was happy for him, but the truth was that a wave of sadness washed over her and found home in her heart.

Matt's new girlfriend, who introduced herself as Tiffany, looked at Y/N with a look of superiority, as if she was sizing her up and down. She emanated an aura of arrogance and pretension that made Y/N feel out of place and inadequate almost instantly.

Her slender and tall body was shaped by a mini skirt and a tank top that hugged her tiny waist perfectly, her feet covered in sparkling high heels - too much for a normal day in Boston -, Y/N feeling suddenly uncomfortable about the large t-shirt that covered her entire upper body.

As she watched Matt and Tiffany together, Y/N felt a tumultuous mix of emotions. The sounds of the video game coming from the television and Nick and Chris' excited screams echoing muffledly into her ears as she noticed how Matt hadn't looked directly at her eyes, not even once.

She wondered if he had really forgotten her so easily, if their friendship no longer meant anything to him. She felt betrayed and abandoned, as if a piece of her heart had been ripped out without warning.

As the day progressed, Y/N tried to keep herself occupied with the other two brothers, trying to push away the painful thoughts that threatened to consume her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the vision of Matt and Tiffany together, acting like they were the perfect couple.

She was so different from what Y/N imagined Matt's type to be.

When it was finally time to go home, Y/N said goodbye to Matt with a forced smile on her lips. She tried to hide the pain in her eyes, trying to appear indifferent to the fact that he had found someone new. But deep down, she knew that it had changed everything between them both, and nothing would ever be the same as it was.

As she walked home, Y/N felt tears streaming down her face. She felt lost and confused, not knowing how to deal with the new reality that was opening up before her.

She wondered if Matt would ever see that she was the right girl for him, that he belonged with her.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The restaurant was buzzing with the sound of excited voices and cutlery clattering against plates. Matt, Y/N, Nick, and Chris were sitting at a table in the corner, enjoying a quiet lunch together after weeks of not hanging out as a group.

"Matt, can we talk?" Y/N began as she noticed Chris and Nick immersed in a random topic. Her voice was soft but filled with concern, her eyes trying to decipher the storm of emotions that seemed to cross the brunette's face.

"Of course, Y/N. What do you want to talk about?" Matt nodded, his gaze meeting hers momentarily, before lowering it back to his plate, a fake smile resting on his face.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express what she was feeling.

"I couldn't help but notice how things have changed between us lately. Ever since you started... dating Tiffany, it seems like we're more distant."

"I know, Y/N. I'm sorry that I've been distant. It's just... Tiffany is complicated. She's very different from... Well, it doesn't matter." Matt spoke in a low tone, looking embarrassed as his hands nervously played with the metal cutlery.

Before Y/N could respond, Matt's phone started ringing, interrupting the conversation, and catching the attention of Nick and Chris, who stopped what they were saying and looked at them with interest. Matt huffed out an apology before looking at his cell screen, frowning as he read Tiffany's flashing name.

"Sorry, Y/N. I really need to take this." Matt said, quickly getting up from the table and taking a few steps away to answer the call, ignoring the worried looks his brothers were sending him.

Y/N watched as Matt spoke on the phone, his face tense and worried. She could hear Tiffany's muffled screams on the other end of the line, and a knot formed in her stomach as she realized the argument was about her, her name escaping the boy's lips more times than expected.

She could feel Nick and Chris's gazes burning into the side of her head, and she knew they wanted to say something, but her attention was too focused on Matt to try and get information out of the pair.

As the argument continued, Y/N observed in detail Matt's reactions, the lines of tension on his t the clenched fists at his side. She could feel the anguish he was experiencing.

When Matt finally hung up the phone, he returned to the table with a tired look in his eyes, his teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip, as if he was in an internal struggle between what to do and what not to do. He looked at Y/N, as if he was about to say something, but then looked away, unable to find the words.

Y/N quickly reached out to touch his hand, a small show of silent support, a frown full of worry taking her expression.

"Matt, hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just..." Matt nodded, a weak smile playing on his lips, the same one that Y/N saw every day since he started dating Tiffany, but so different from the one that was directed to her three months before. "I just need to sort some things out with Tiffany." He cleared his throat quickly, tearing his eyes away from her and focusing them on his brothers. "Can you guys keep going without me? I really need to go."

"If I say no, it won't change what you think, so do whatever you want, Matt." Chris shrugged, his gaze rigid like never seen before by Y/N.

She tried to meet Nick's eyes, searching for some kind of explanation, but all she saw was sadness and worry.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Night was falling over Boston when Matt left Tiffany's house, his heart heavy and his mind turbulent. The rain, like a perfect background actor, fell in torrents, mixing with the tears that ran down his face as he walked aimlessly through the wet streets, having left his car in the hands of Chris - the one who knew most about driving after himself.

The boy allowed his feet to take him where they wanted to go, his vision blurred, and his mind too confused to decide anything at that moment, his heart screaming for refuge.

And that's how he found himself standing in front of Y/N's house, his safe haven in the midst of the storm that had been his life since he could remember.

With a heavy heart, the brunette walked to the side wall outside of the two-story house, his blue eyes only seeing the window that he already knew very well. Agilely, Matt quickly climbed the expanse of concrete, the lighting from the girl's room helping and guiding him.

The sound of light knocks against the closed glass echoed through the room, and it was and understandment to say that Y/N was surprised to see Matt outside her room, hanging from her window, drenched from the rain and with eyes red from crying.

The girl quickly shot up from her seat on her pretty made-up bed, running towards him and opening the window in seconds, her hands working on pulling him inside the cozy and warm room, wrapping him in a comforting hug, ignoring the feeling of his wet clothes against her dry and warm pajamas.

"Matt, what happened? Why are you here like this? What...?" Y/N asked frantically, worried. She pulled back a few inches, rubbing her left hand over Matt's cold arm, while her right worked on brushing away the soggy strands of hair that stuck to his forehead and cheeks.

"I broke up with Tiffany." His voice sounded choked and hoarse from crying, his lips trembling without a pause. "I finally realized how toxic she was being, and I couldn't go on like this anymore. I didn't-" A sob broke through his throat, his eyes closing tightly as his hands gripped Y/N's bent elbow, seeking some stability.

Y/N watched him with compassion, stroking the cold skin of his face gently with the tip of her right fingers. She felt like screaming from seeing him in such a state, her heart hurting as if someone was squeezing it with their bare hands.

She wondered how he couldn't see that she was the right one for him, not Tiffany. She knew all his favorite songs, the movies he loved, the places he dreamed of visiting. She was the only one who truly understood him, who knew his deepest dreams, fears, and hopes.

Over the years, Y/N has been by Matt's side through every important moment in his life. She watched him grow, face challenges, and overcome obstacles. She was the person he went to in the middle of the night when he needed someone to talk to, the voice that made him laugh when he was about to cry.

And yet, even with all this intimacy and deep connection, Matt didn't seem to realize what was right in front of him. He continued to seek love and validation elsewhere, ignoring the fact that Y/N was always there, waiting for him with an open heart.

And because of that, he got hurt. Again.

"Oh darling, I'm so sorry. Come here, sweet boy." Y/N asked in a gentle whisper, guiding him to her bed in slow steps.

"N-no, I'm going to wet your whole bed." Matt muttered between sniffles, his right hand gripping her arm gently while his left one rubbed his eyes angrily, trying to stop the tears from continuing to flow.

"It's okay, I don't mind, honey." The girl insisted, helping him sit on the edge of the mattress next to her pillow while moving his hand away from his face, preventing him from hurting himself. "Stay here, I'll go get a towel. I think I still have some of your clothes too."

While Matt vented between sobs about his problematic relationship with Tiffany, Y/N listened attentively, moving around the room behind her hairdryer, clean towels and pieces of clothing that the brunette had left there when he visited her house.

She could feel the pain and anguish he was feeling, and she was determined to be there for him, no matter how much her heart burned to see him suffer for another girl.

The girl quickly found everything she needed, beginning the task of wiping Matt's wet, dark hair with the fluffy towel and wiping away the raindrops from his skin, her body standing stiffly between the boy's legs, being careful not to cross any barrier he had placed between the two of them.

As Matt spoke and Y/N advised him, she could feel his blue eyes fixed on her face, his hands too close to her legs as she finished drying him, feeling her cheeks burn like fire, knowing for sure that they were as red as the color itself.

"Y/N, there's something I need to tell you." Matt whispered, his tone low - as if he didn't want to burst the bubble that seemed to surround them - but still echoing throughout the room with force. "I only started dating Tiffany because... because I was trying to get you out of my mind."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her hands stopping their movements abruptly, the wet towel feeling heavy on her skin. The girl stared at the wall behind Matt for a few seconds, processing what he had said before finally looking at him, all the words caught in her throat as tears glistened in her eyes.

What?

"I know it was wrong, and I'm so sorry." Matt continued, his voice strained as his eyes seemed to search hers desperately. “But I realized that no matter how hard I tried, I could never forget you. Because... because I love you, Y/N. Since the first day I met you, I have loved you. Every time I close my eyes, it's your face that I see. You're always in my thoughts, in my dreams, everywhere, and nothing I tried could make you disappear."

Y/N's heart raced in her chest a mile a minute as Matt's words echoed in her mind. An overwhelming mix of happiness and relief filling her veins at finally hearing the words she had waited for so many years.

"Matt, this is..." Y/N shook her head as an easy smile spread across her face automatically. "I love you too." She confessed, her voice almost a whisper, lowering her face, her eyes finally meeting his electrifying ones, feeling as if they were piercing her soul, which now, exposed, no longer had a barrier to hide her true feelings. "I love you more than I ever thought possible to love anyone."

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