#I just wanna see what he’d come up with | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gifsbysimplysonia · 1 day ago

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Hola. Long rambling feedback behind the cut as well as

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

I think this is so beautiful. Anyone who is a creative knows how difficult it can be to find a muse. So for this person to inspire a twitch in Logan after YEARS? That's just a very beautiful thing.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him. Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring.

And this is for BOTH 1) thinking it's not ok to be into art??? OK BUT CAVEMEN CARVED INTO WALLS, SIR and 2) "you're nothing if not inspiring" *screamingggggggggggggggggggg*

The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises. Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing.

I love that this fits with the Logan I know, the demand on self for perfectionism and the refusal to accept anything but. But it's especially important cuz he wants to do right by YOU/HER. *swoon*

And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more.

Sigh. Oh Logan. Always thinking he's not worthy while he holds everyone he cares about up on pedestals. I both adore him and wanna shake him for these habits.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He gets Rogue to show him Instagram for reference photos. HOW CUTE!

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite.

This is soooooooooooooooo beautiful. It is just a loud beacon of what Logan's heart really is. It's also really precious that he finally produces a drawing of her that he's satisfied with which then produces ANGST in him. Cuz he can't leave it out cuz what if people see? But he doesn't want to hide it cuz what if it smudges? Watching him go back and forth about it and the STRESS shows how much it means to him not to mess it up but ALSO, I think, how much it means to him to be back drawing. As a creative who goes through the longest dry patches, when a period of productivity comes up? OH DO I WANT TO HANG ONTO IT. And probably try so hard that I make it slip through my fingers.

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again. He could give it to you.

DO IT LOGANNNNNNNN!

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing?

YOU care, sir! And people who love you will SEE that and care too!!! Don't we all wish he valued himself and his opinions more.

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him.

It's so precious to me, how relatable this is. Anyone who is a creative can relate, I'm sure. How nervous creatives are before they publish or they post or they even just share with someone they are close to. I wanna hug him.

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it. Sappy motherfucker.

Some day, someone needs to tell him he can give himself permission to BE sappy. Corny is part of life and it's a blessing.

He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door. So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart. It’s soo stupid.

It's annoying to read Logan's antiquated views on masculinity here. Completely understand that it fits with his character and how he has aged and evolved but omggggggggggg, it's just frustrating lol

You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

The way we can convince ourselves of the worst possible outcome, eh? *smh*

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing. You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.”

SHE IMMEDIATELY TREATED IT AS SOMETHING PRECIOUS!!! SHE WANTED TO PROTECT IT JUST LIKE LOGAN WANTED TO PROTECT IT!!! BUT SHE LOVES IT TO THE POINT SHE MADE HERSELF A COPY TO CARRY IT AROUND WITH HER AT ALL TIMES!!!!!

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that. But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?” You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

To see the similarities in how they DON'T see themselves fully is kind of sweet and makes me root for them.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.” The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created.

He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing.

This is HILARIOUS and KILLING ME because I also make rules for MYSELF that are different from the rules I have for EVERYONE ELSE lmao

He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy.

Logan being an Acts of Service person makes ALL the sense in the world to me.

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end.

The curse of the sequel! I think a lot of creatives can relate to this type of self induced pressure which means nothing you produce is good enough.

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.” He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

She already has a frame for the new drawing cuz the frames came in packs of 2 and she will NOT STAND for someone not absolutely FAWNING over it and I love that from her. It's doing Logan's heart SO good to see how much she adores what he's created.

If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you. Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

Our man is S-M-I-T-T-E-N and I love that for him. Cuz look what it's brought back into his life?

“I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it. “No one else knows.” You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

This is so intimate. And he's finally comfortable all the way with her. She knows it's him and he's fine with her knowing it's him.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

I appreciate that Logan is just the tiniest bit "selfish" here because this has been such an emotionally taxing ordeal for him. And she really really admires his talent and is THRILLED that it's him and that he sees her the way that he does.

From here the story slips into the Rated R portion of the story which is both hot and very sweet. The buildup means that I feel a genuine connection and intimacy between the 2 that feels "earned," if that's the right word. Cuz it doesn't feel forced or rushed or like we skipped a whole bunch of stuff to get here.

I also love that there's open dialogue. Often, the only talk between lovers is dirty - which I am a big fan of and absolutely fine with - but that here we have sweet confessions, constant check ins, and reassurances; these all fit with the journey we've been on with these two and I just really enjoy that aspect.

There's also good dirty talk, balanced give and take and praaaaaaaaaaaaise which I enjoy thoroughly. Logan also tends to take the possessive "my girl" over and over which just melts my butter!

@selfcarecap thank you so much for creating and sharing this! Thank you for following YOUR muse through to the end of this tale and then being brave enough to slip it under all our doors *bad dum tss* I really loved this look at Logan, his vulnerabilities, his abilities and desires beyond his powers / "job" and what allowing himself to create ultimately gifted him with. Well done smut that I also very much enjoyed too.

And thank you to K for putting it on my dash!

MUSE [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them.

warnings: smut 18+ but with an actual plot for once (brief m masturbation, oral f and m rec, unprotected piv sex, kind of accidental (but consensual obv) facial; pet names: bub, baby, good girl, princess), soft!Logan but he won’t admit it, also soft!reader, fluff (although the summary makes it sounds a bit more dramatic than it is tbh), implication that reader has curly hair, implied mutant/X-men!reader, (obviously the pic doesn’t represent the envelopes Logan uses lol he’s not doing all that)

word count: 7.3k

also i feel the need to say something about the fact that it’s Hugh Jackman’s birthday today lol so uh thanks for being huge jacked man and for giving us our Logan yay <3 | gorgeous divider by @plutism

It’s everything Logan is the opposite of – he would never tell a soul – but over the course of his long life, Logan has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. It’s not really him, but he did have a phase or two.

Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring.

He gives in to the urge to get out pencil and paper again, waiting until everyone else has gone to sleep. The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises.

Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing.

He picks out a few other things to draw then, to ease the pressure that comes with drawing the woman he… is friends with. Yeah, you’re a friend. And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more.

But after a few nights he feels more confident in his drawing skills again, but still, as much as he can picture you in his mind – he can do that absolutely perfectly – he’s not too sure he could really draw you accurately.

So he gets Rogue to show him how goddamn fucking Instagram works so that he can look at some of your pictures and use them as a model.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He can’t believe it, but the first time he seriously attempts to draw you, it’s perfect. It’s a small drawing, not even as big as his palm, capturing your gorgeous face. He thinks of adding another few lines to your eyebrows, or to your hair or another small one to the outline of your lips, but he doesn’t want to mess with it.

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite.

He hides the drawing in between the pages of a book, and hides the book under a pile of random clutter on his desk that not even he would normally spare a glance at. But when he lies down to go to sleep, he gets all the stuff out again and gets out the drawing. He wants to see it again. And he can’t leave it there anyway, what if the pressure from all the items on top of it smudges it?

But he doesn’t know what else to do with it. He can’t really have a drawing of you sitting in his room. What if someone sees? Then what is he gonna do with it instead?

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again.

He could give it to you.

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him. To see the side that has him staying up until 3AM to finely trace the lines of someone’s eyelashes and cheekbones and lips, the side that makes him feel calm inside.

Sappy motherfucker.

He puts the small drawing back into the book and carefully pushes it between his mattress and the bedframe to protect it during the night. God, who even is he – protecting a tiny piece of paper? He groans at himself as he turns around to go to sleep.

He dreams of making a thousand drawings of you, with you as his live model. His muse.

You’re his girlfriend in his dream, he thinks.

He’s sitting in a chair in your room, drawing you as you tell him about your day. You’re lying on your bed on your tummy, elbows propped up to support your head. You’re gently kicking your feet in the air behind you, wearing nothing but a t-shirt of Logan’s, some silly graphic socks, panties with little cherries on them, and a bright, bashful smile as Logan attempts to capture your glowing features in a sketch block he’s dedicated to drawings of you.

He wakes up with morning wood.

Logan is no stranger to jerking off with you on his mind, so he spits in his hand and slips it beneath his boxers, stroking himself as he thinks of you. He imagines you on top of him as he jerks his cock, imagines you under him, or with your legs around his head, or you between his knees on the floor. He cums quickly and hard, leaving his boxers wet and sticky.

He goes for a run after he’s dealt with it and picks up an envelope on his way. He’s doubting himself but he knows he has to just do it. He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door.

So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart.

It’s soo stupid.

He makes sure no one is anywhere near your bedroom, walks up to your door, and slides the envelope underneath. Except he didn’t check if you were in your room. As soon as the envelope disappears beneath your door, he hears a short creak from your bed and your soft footsteps.

He hears the small and adorable noise of curiosity you let out – a confused hm? – and then he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hallway. He hears your voice about ten seconds later, an intrigued hello? as you open the door, but you don’t investigate further, closing the door behind you.

Logan’s heart is beating so fast. He’s never doing this shit again.

He’s antsy all day, waiting for some type of reaction from you. Except you don’t know that the drawing is from him so he’s probably not even getting one, and he can’t conspicuously come to your room the same day you receive an anonymous drawing of yourself.

It’s also when the insecurity settles in. Maybe he should have added a few more lines or started the entire drawing anew. Who does he think he is pretending to be an artist?

He shakes those thoughts off as he starts training with the punching bag in the gym. It’s not something that he necessarily needs to train, but it gets rid of some of that pointless energy. This isn’t him, worried about some lines he drew on a piece of paper – a scrap of a paper, really. Who cares about something like that? Certainly not him.

He sleeps dreamlessly and wakes up the next day disappointed that he didn’t get to dream about being your boyfriend again. God, what are you doing to him? Making him think about being boyfriend and girlfriend. He’s pathetic. You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

He’s not even thinking of the drawing anymore, truly, when he walks into the kitchen the next morning. It only comes to mind when he sees you, alone in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to scroll on your phone, your weird green coffee (“it’s Matcha, Logan”) next to you as you stir it mindlessly with a metal straw.

“Hi,” you look up with one of those sweet smiles of yours, but redirect your attention to your phone.

At least you don’t immediately say something like hey, you know that drawing you slid under my door? It was so ugly I threw it away. Since when do you even draw?

Not that he was worried you would or anything. He hasn’t been thinking about it. Obviously. Why would he? And he knows you would never expect that it’s him; that’s the only reason he did it. He never would have given you the drawing if he thought you could have even the slightest inkling that Logan would be someone who draws. But he still wants to know what you think of it.

“You want some toast too?” You ask, putting your phone down and turning to get some bread. He sits down at the other side of the kitchen counter and as his eyes flicker to your green drink (he still doesn’t get it), he sees it.��

“Is that–” my drawing, he almost said, “What is that?” He pretends to be confused, drawing his eyebrows together, trying his best to look inquisitive, “No toast by the way, thanks.”

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing.

“Did you draw it?” He asks.

You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.”

“Secret admirer?”

Smiling, you say, “I don’t know. I won’t get my hopes up. But the person must definitely be fond of me to draw me like that.”

“Like what?” He asks, unsure if he’s about to be offended.

But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?”

You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

Logan stays silent. He can’t seem too pushy and draw attention to himself, but his silence makes you confess.

Logan makes a noise of satisfaction and smiles, asking you to pass your phone so he can look at it more – pretending it’s his first time seeing it. If you think that way about it, maybe the three more lines he was going to add aren’t that important after all.

The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created.

After a week, he figures he has to give in. Drawing another picture of you is on his mind twenty-four seven.

It doesn’t help that he still catches you staring at the copy of it in your phone case lovingly more than once a day and you’ve put the original drawing in a special little frame on your nightstand. He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing.

This is for you. It’s not about him. He’s not an artist or anything like that, he’s just doing something kind for someone he cares about (which is honestly sappy enough but he tries to ignore that). He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy.

He’ll just make this second drawing and silently put it in your room, and he’s the last person you’ll suspect.

It takes him an entire month for the next drawing, and it feels more like him that it’s been making him so angry that he couldn’t get it right at first. Maybe he had the wrong picture of artists. They’re always talking about pain, aren’t they, and that’s what he experiences too (over a drawing. Who is he?).

He takes another few days to keep track of your routine, to monitor when you’ll be in your room. He can’t have it be as close as last time.

He ends up doing it in the evening. There’s a time after dinner when most of the team stays together to watch tv, just talk, or play some games. It’s normal for some of you to wander off, come back or stick around a bit longer. It won’t be suspicious if he leaves for a few minutes and comes back.

Logan wants nothing more than to follow you when you say that you’re going to your room for the night; he wants to see your reaction. But he can’t. All he can do is go up to his own bedroom fifteen minutes later, lingering in the hallway longer than he needs to.

Just as he’s about to give up and go to sleep, you walk down the hallway, coming back from the bathroom.

“Logan!” you call all excitedly when you see him, and his heart skips a beat. Do you know the drawing is from him?

“Look,” you take his arm and pull him to your room, “I got another drawing!”

He breathes out in relief; you don’t know it’s from him. He smiles when you hold up the drawing, already framed.

“Were you expecting to get another drawing?” he teases.

“Noo, but the frames came in a pack of two. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Logan looks at how your eyes sparkle, how proudly you’re showing him this drawing. All the work he put into it was definitely worth it. It’s another picture of your face, this time from a new angle, and with your hair styled differently, curls coiled another way from last time.

Logan clears his throat, remembering to keep up his act. “It looks good.”

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

“It is. And you don’t have to know much about art or drawing to see how pretty this is. I still can’t believe someone would take the time to make these for me.”

Logan remains silent instead of saying what he wants to tell you. Of course he would take that time for you – and you don’t even know how much time it really took him. If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you.

Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

He’s on a roll for some time. He’s better at drawing again now that he’s getting in practice, and he makes five drawings of you within the next weeks. Logan watches the collection of them on your nightstand grow fuller, along with your smile that somehow gets bigger every time you tell him about a new drawing.

It’s a wonder you haven’t caught on yet, but you don’t seem particularly interested in snooping around to find out who it is. You respect the person’s privacy, but you’ve confessed to him that you’d still love to know.

“I won’t try to find out who it is. I won’t push it if they don’t want me to know… but, I mean, anyone would want to know, wouldn’t they?”

You’ve adopted the nickname of ‘secret admirer’ for this mysterious ‘they’, after Logan used the term about ten times. You were reluctant at first, because the person isn’t calling themself a secret admirer – you’d just be putting words in their mouth. But after seeing how much more beautiful the drawings get each time, you’ve accepted and admitted that, okay, yes, the person must be an admirer.

Your secret admirer Logan is particularly proud of his latest drawing, excited to bring it up to your room tonight.

But this time he’s sloppy. He’s stayed for a few post-dinner card games with the team, and it’s risky, because you’ve been saying that it’s your last game for the last two rounds. But he also knows that you always say that, and never mean it.

Logan gets up to leave, and he hears Scott convincing you to play just one more round.

It’s stupid, really, risking it like that. Even if he’s gone from your room in time before you come upstairs, you could easily guess that it’s Logan. He’s the first one leaving the round tonight, so your first assumption could be that it was him.

Maybe subconsciously he wants to get caught. He’s seen how you light up at every drawing, and no matter how much you respect your admirer’s anonymity, of course you want to know who’s dedicating so much time and work to drawings of you. Of course it’s crossed your mind that the person isn’t just doing this because they’re a good friend. They’re drawing your face because they think it’s beyond beautiful.

Logan doesn’t really know why he hasn’t told you yet that he likes you. He’s good at flirting, and he’s attractive – he’s not blind. But with you it’s different, there’s a bigger risk, for the both of you. The older he gets, the harder it is to open up to yet another person. You’re friends, and you talk about personal things, but confessing that he’s in love with you is different.

Not to mention this stupid recurring dream he keeps having, in which you find out it’s Logan who’s been drawing you, and suddenly your opinion of the drawings changes. You don’t like him back like that, and suddenly the drawings feel creepy if you think about him staying up late drawing your face.

He rolls his eyes at himself and gets the thought out of his head, taking the small envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans, smoothing his hand over it. He looks around, making sure no one sees him.

Logan bends down to slide the envelope under your door as usual, but one of the corners of the paper catches against the wall, and he quickly opens it to check the drawing isn’t damaged. His heart is beating so fast, he feels stupid.

He can hear footsteps, still far away, but he can hear them. Logan messily licks the edges of the envelope to close it back up, but it’s not sticking. He can’t decide between shoving it under the door like this or leaving now and bringing it back the next day. He can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage now.

Then he hears it. He miscalculated how far the footsteps were.

“Logan?”

He turns around slowly, and it feels like the world has frozen.

You come closer, looking at him and then at the letter that he must’ve dropped. It hasn’t made it under your door yet.

He says something before you can, “I’m delivering for someone else.”

“Who?” you ask, bending down to pick up the envelope. If he wasn’t petrified, he’d enjoy the view of you bent over in front of him.

He breathes. He can’t have anyone taking credit for his work, for his art (you called it that recently, he would never). But his heart is beating so fast he doesn’t know what the fuck to do or say.

This is exactly why he never wanted to do any of this. He’s making a fool out of himself and that doesn’t usually happen, especially not over a piece of paper. Logan is confident, cocky even, he can admit that, and has no idea how to deal with things like being nervous; he never has to. This really isn’t him.

You don’t wait for an answer and look at the envelope. You open it so carefully, gently taking the drawing out with your fingertips. You’re treating it with so much care he immediately feels better. Again, this isn’t for him, it’s for you. (Well, it’s for him too but it’ll take him a while to admit that).

He’s drawn your smile this time. You were happy in most of the drawings before, but he focussed more on the eyes, and your lips only ever tugged up in a slight smile.

This one is a full-toothed grin, mid-laugh.

You two were drinking last weekend. He barely felt it but your tipsy, giggly mood was contagious. He couldn’t imagine himself feeling any other way but blissful when you’re happy around him.

It started when Logan made a casual comment about something silly Scott was wearing that night, and he had you giggling. He wanted to immediately hear that angelic sound again, of course, and so he gave you every joke about your shared friends he could think of – all light-hearted, but he was still glad you two were alone.

You look up at him now, eyes filled with tears.

“You drew this?” you ask.

He nods softly. He can’t say it but he hopes the drawings convey how in love with you he is.

Suddenly, Logan feels like his heart has stopped beating.

You’re kissing him.

You’ve leaped up, wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, and now your lips are on his.

He feels your mouth falter, probably because he’s being a fucking idiot and not kissing you back. Logan places his hands on your waist to pull you further towards him. Then his brain finally catches up and he can do what he’s wanted to for so long.

He takes your chin with two fingers and angles you so you can kiss him easier. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of your soft, warm lips against him. You’re soft and warm all over. Your top has slipped up over his fingertips at your sides, and he slides his hands further around your back to support you against him even better.

Logan’s tongue pushes at your lower lip, and you let out the sexiest, tiny moan of surprise as you part your lips for him, granting him access.

His tongue touches the tip of yours and from then on your cravings intensify. You feel your way over his muscular shoulders, his big biceps and over the hard planes of his chest. When you’ve had a good feel there, your hands grip his shirt in desperation and Logan gets even hungrier for you. He gently bites at your lower lip, but then you shriek into his mouth and squirm out of his grasp. He opens his eyes wide.

You grip Logan’s forearm for support when you bend down in a panic, picking up the drawing you just dropped. You let out a big breath of relief when you see it hasn’t been damaged.

“You made me drop it!” You slap a hand to his chest; it doesn’t actually hurt and it’s not meant to, but it leaves a pleasant tingle behind instead.

“I didn’t do anything”, Logan laughs, and you shake your head at him with a smile.

You take him into your room where you make him sit on the bed while you stare at the new drawing in awe. “I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it.

“No one else knows.”

You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

“I’ll only draw for you anyway, so there’s no point in telling anyone else.”

“You’re really good. I love the drawings.”

Logan gives a satisfied hum at your words, “You inspired me. Can’t have you walking around all pretty and not expect me to try and recreate it.”

You straddle Logan and hover over his lap to hug him, “They’re the best thing anyone's ever given to me. Do I really look like that?” You say the last question more quietly, and Logan wraps his arms around your sides, careful not to bump your hand that’s still holding the drawing.

“You’re more gorgeous than anything I could ever capture, but I think it comes close. I didn’t change anything about you to make you more beautiful. I couldn’t if I tried. I just tried to draw you as accurately as possible, that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

“I really love it,” you say again, happily staring at the details of the drawing. Hearing you say the word love so much tempts Logan, but he doesn’t want to move too fast. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He does, however, want to kiss you again.

Logan carefully takes the framed drawing and puts it on your nightstand. You push your mouth against his before he can initiate the kiss, and he grins against your lips.

Your chest is pressed against Logan’s, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. You may or may not be pressing your boobs against his body on purpose.

“God, baby, I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, already breathless, as his hands trail down your back, leaving goosebumps behind.

“You’ve waited long?” you raise your eyebrows, grinning, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you.”

You see the look in Logan’s eyes changing as he bites his lip, “Who says I didn’t want the same?”

You giggle, “Why did it take us so long?”

Logan chuckles, readjusting you so that you’re even closer to him, “I was too busy to actually talk to you, just been starin’ at you so I could draw you.” His cheeks have the faintest red tint, and you kiss them, hugging him.

You whisper into his ear, “Then it was worth the wait. And anyway, it’s not talking that I’m interested in right now.”

He pulls you back to look into your eyes, then at your lips. “Where do you want me?” he asks. You giggle slightly helplessly; you weren’t entirely prepared to have a man like Logan at your mercy like this tonight.

“You can do whatever you want,” you say softly, kissing him.

Logan’s lips are hungry against yours, strings of spit falling between you two, but he pauses the kiss to lie you on your back. “Wanna eat you out,” he husks, “Been dying to know what you taste like forever, bub. Can I?” He reaches for the hem of your top, and you nod so that he can pull it off you, admiring what’s underneath.

“Sometimes I make myself cum imagining that I’m going down on you,” you confess somewhat shyly, but you figure he’s been so vulnerable for you that you can share a secret too.

Logan smirks, and pulls off his shirt, “Maybe we can make your dream come true then.”

You move to sit up, but he insists on eating you out first. You both take off all your clothes, staring at each other with huge smiles on your faces for a few moments. You’ve never seen Logan this happy.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty,” he leans down to kiss your lips, then down your neck, all the way to your legs. He spreads them, lying down between them as he all but drools at the sight of your wet pussy.

You get nervous all of a sudden. “It’s been a while,” you tell him. He looks up, taking your hand, enveloping it completely in his much bigger one.

“You sure about this? We can wait,” he gently kisses your knuckles, and a warmth spreads in your chest, slowing your heartbeat down a little.

“I’m sure,” you nod, and Logan comes up again to kiss you. The head of his hard cock catches against the space above your clit, and you both look down between your bodies. When Logan looks back up at you, his eyes are desperately begging you. You place your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair as he moves down your body.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your thigh, kissing you there. You giggle, getting comfortable, your hand never leaving his hair.

Logan starts eating you out, his tongue gentle but determined against your clit.

“Taste so good, baby. Even better than I imagined.” You hum at Logan’s words, already feeling yourself come undone with his mouth on your wet pussy.

You sink further into the mattress when he starts sucking on your clit, licking into your pussy like a man starved every few moments, and your thighs squeeze around Logan’s head, and it’s even better than in his fantasies.

“Feels really good,” you tell him, pulling on his hair to stop yourself from moving too much, and Logan moans against your skin. Hearing your words motivates him even more, and he pushes two fingers into your wet pussy. He curls his fingers, rubbing up against that spot that makes you see stars.

Your back arches as you cum, Logan’s lips wrapped around your clit as your legs push harder against his head, and all he does is moan, revelling in the feeling.

Logan doesn’t stop licking your pussy until you’re tugging his head away by his hair, and he comes up for air with a grin on his face. You smile back, pulling him up to kiss him. You give yourself only a few seconds of recovery time before you make him sit down. You know you’d never have enough strength to actually make him get into a different position, but he lets you.

You push him onto his back, getting between his legs. You’re blinking up at him all prettily when you ask, “Can I suck your dick? Please?”

Logan huffs to himself because he can’t believe how hot you are, can’t believe that this is really finally happening. He tells you yes – he has no more words to describe how badly he wants this – and he watches you wrap your pretty lips around his cock.

It’s hard to grasp that it’s really you doing this right now – the woman he’s been into for so long. His cock is in your mouth and you look so gorgeous with spit running down from your lips, and all he can think of is all the dirty drawings he can now make of you, if you’ll let him.

He closes his eyes when you take him deeper, enveloping him with your warm, wet mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers absent-mindedly, too gone to say much more.

You’re not using your hands as you suck his cock, your spit trailing down on him, and you’re so eager. But it’s also late, and he sees you getting tired, eyes blinking slower as you pause to catch your breath every few moments. He also sees the determination in your eyes, and the absolute want, but he doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself.

You look so sexy all fucked out, strings of spit connecting your mouth to his cock as you pull away another time, giggling up at him shyly when you realise that he’s noticing you getting tired.

“Just need a second,” you wipe your mouth, out of breath, and it’s not that you’re not incredibly hot like this, but he still wants to fuck you tonight and he’s not sure that will happen if you keep going.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, reaching out his hand.

“Huh?” you ask, taking his hand nevertheless.

“Get back here, baby. I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? Don’t want you tiring yourself out.”

You let him lift you and put you on your back, but you pout, “Wanna taste you.”

Logan grins, “I’ll cum in your mouth, princess. Promise.”

You smile at his answer, satisfied, so you lie back down, pulling your legs up to your chest. His cock looks huge as he jerks himself off between your legs, rubbing the tip against your clit, making you squirm.

“Don’t know if I can take you,” you bite your lip. You’re not entirely sure if you mean it or not. You definitely want to try.

“We’ll make it fit, baby, we’ll make it fit,” Logan assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth, a mix of your wetness and his precum between your mouths. You feel his cock at your pussy, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” you nod desperately, letting him push his cock into your pussy. He pauses after a few inches, but you wrap your legs around his waist more tightly, and he goes deeper.

“Y’okay, baby? You can take it, right?”

You nod, unable to form words with your pussy stretched like this, a combination of pleasure and pain between your legs – but it’s infinitely more pleasure.

“That’s right. You’re my good girl, hm?” He kisses along your neck as he bottoms out, and you both moan when he’s got his cock fully stuffed inside you for the first time. He pulls out slightly when you whine at the stretch, but you scratch down his back to get his attention.

“I can take it,” you tell him, and you watch the look in his eyes darken.

He begins to fuck you, the pain subsiding more with every thrust into your wet pussy. You can barely take him, but it feels good. With your slight tiredness, you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine.

You can’t believe that Logan – your super hot friend Logan who you’ve been fantasising about for so long – is fucking you. He not only feels the same way about you, but he’s been your secret admirer this entire time, taking hours and hours out of his day to make you smile. You’re the only one he wants.

And now he’s fucking you, fucking you well, and you feel so warm inside, not just from the sex but you feel warm in your heart, because of Logan’s care.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking a hand down your face when he notices you’re not entirely present. You nod happily, smiling up at him, and you can’t talk because you feel so good.

“Good, that’s good, bub, but let me know if it gets too much,” he says as he starts rubbing your clit, watches you nod while he’s fucking you so well, and he’s so big and so deep inside of you, “Squeezing me so tight, baby, feel so fucking good.”

You cum suddenly, letting the warm pleasure flow through your body as Logan keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit in just the right rhythm.

“That’s my girl, taking it so well,” he moans, breaths stuttering. You slump against the pillow after a few moments, with a soft smile on your face, and Logan pulls out.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he jerks his cock, and you sit up on your elbows immediately, looking him in the eyes with a smile as you stick out your tongue for him. He promised.

Logan moans when he cums, painting your face in his release, jerking himself off. He holds your head in place with his other hand, aiming for your mouth but you’re making no effort to catch his cum there.

“Such a pretty fucking face, princess, ’m cumming all over it,” he rasps, shooting more ropes of his cum all over your cheeks, jacking off onto your face.

You open your eyes when he’s done and breathing heavily, and you smile up at him. You open your mouth, taking the head of his cock between your lips to suck off the last drops of cum.

“Look at you, baby. Look so fucking pretty with my cum all over your gorgeous face.”

You hum, pulling your mouth off him and licking your lips, tasting his salty release. You brush a finger over your cheek, sucking it into your mouth to taste him more. Logan kisses you then, the flavour of himself mixing between your mouths.

He cleans you up gently, carefully wiping your face with a baby wipe and kissing every inch of your cheeks afterwards. You take his face to kiss him properly, and if you didn’t seem so tired Logan would be ready for round two immediately.

“Next time you could try to actually cum in my mouth,” you tease, making Logan grin.

“Sorry, baby. Got too excited. Couldn’t focus on asking you again if it was okay.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I liked it.”

Logan grins, “Oh I could tell you liked it, baby.” You lightly slap his chest as you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

You cuddle for a while, not saying much because you don’t have to. You’ve both waited for this for so long that you’re just enjoying the moment, enjoying that it finally happened.

You slip out of his arms to sit on top of him. You’re in nothing but panties, the blanket bunching around your hips. You lean your hands against his chest as you tell him more about how much the drawings delighted you. And Logan cares, of course he cares to hear that, but he’s also just a man seeing the woman he’s into naked for the first time still.

You become quiet when you realise that he’s not listening, and you giggle, “Distracted?”

Logan grins, “Just a little fucking bit, baby.” His eyes don’t leave your body, and you laugh as you bend down to kiss him. He grabs your ass, kneading the flesh. When you slightly sit up again, your tits are near his face, and he can’t help himself. He cups your breasts, playing with your nipples, making you hum.

“I should draw these,” he looks up at you, “Should draw every perfect fucking inch of you.”

“You wanna?” You adjust how you’re seated in his lap, and you feel that he’s already half hard under you again.

“Maybe after I’ve fucked you again.”

You smile, feeling yourself growing wetter on top of him.

“Tomorrow,” he continues, and your smile drops.

“But you’ve got to get more familiar with the inspiration, right? If you’re going to draw me.”

“That’s true, baby. But I think you’re too tired.”

You smile bashfully, ignoring how your eyelids were drooping shut just a few seconds ago, “Okay, but then I’ll have more energy for tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, pulling you off him to cuddle you again. He tucks you in and kisses your head.

You turn to your side, taking one of the framed drawings and looking at it for a while.

Logan watches you looking at it, and the sparkle in your eyes never fails to make him feel all warm inside. “Now that you actually know about it, I don’t have to draw you from memory anymore. I can study my muse in peace.”

“Aww, I’m your muse?” you beam.

“Of course you are, princess. You’re the only reason I’m drawing again.”

“I love your drawings so much.”

Logan clears his throat, and looks at you. “Well, I love you. So, I think that went into them.”

You look at him, pouting and then kissing him. “I love you too,” you say into his mouth. He grins against your lips, pulling you closer to kiss you some more. He can barely grasp that you just said that, but he’ll have enough time soon to comprehend how lucky he is.

For now, he takes your hand, and asks, “The question might be redundant now, but do you wanna be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

“I’m already yours.”

Logan grins, takes you in his arms, and you’re still cuddling when you’re both drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

P.S. reblog with a comment and let me know your favourite moment/what you liked to get a drawing from Logan under your door tonight and a facial <33

gorgeous divider by @pommecita

#feedback #marvel #logan howlett #wolverine

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yourfatherlucifer · 2 days ago

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Die With A Smile | In-Ho (Drabble)

“Y/N, please stay here, I know you want to go with but it’s not safe.” Young-il was going to do his damndest to keep you safe, knowing he couldn’t give orders to give you protection from this riot that Gi-Hun was leading.

“Young-Il, I’m fine, I wanna be next to you. What if something happens and I’m not there with you? Hm? What then? I can’t lose you. I just got you.” He could see the desperation in your eyes, the longing, the sincere feelings.

It’s all he’s ever wanted since that day.

The others were getting ready to leave, causing you to panic, “Please don’t leave me here!” You quickly grabbed the turning man’s arm.

In-Ho tsked in frustration, “Fine, but you stay near me.” He shoved a gun into your arms, this wasn’t a good idea. You both knew it.

Everyone marched their way upstairs, Hyun-Ju shooting every camera that came into view, but not before In-Ho could eye them down. Almost as if he was signaling something but he knew his officer wouldn’t understand what he wanted.

Sure, this was against his rules, picking favorites - he wanted you for his self.

Gunfire was almost instantaneous, guards quickly finding the players. This caused In-Ho to shield you as Gi-Hun took the mask from the now dead guard.

“Dammit, okay, we need to find the control room, Jung-Bae, you’re coming with me.” Gi-Hun called out over the gunfire. This made In-Ho nearly snarl in anger. He couldn’t give up his position however, not if he wanted to keep you safe.

Things were getting harsh, everyone was running low on ammo and no one knew what to do.

You took In-Ho’s hand and shouted for two more people to follow, running towards the same door that Gi-Hun went through.

Each of you traversed the maze-like halls. It was really pissing you off that everything was childlike.

“I can’t wait to get out of this place.” You growled in annoyance, keeping your gun barrel raised.

In-Ho knew at his point, he’d really have to watch you. Everyone was getting too close to the control room.

Before he could make his way to the firing man down the hall, a bullet resounded through the hall.

Your eyes widened in shock as you looked down, blood soaked your white shirt as blood began flowing out of your throat, immediately starting to choke.

“Y/N!” In-Ho screamed in disbelief, he couldn’t give the order in time. He’s screwed up.

He shot the pink guard down and grabbed your body before it fell, “No, no, no, this wasn’t supposed to happen.” This wasn’t the plan.

“Youn-“

In-Ho quickly hushed you and shook his head, “Quiet, do not speak, it’s okay. I- I- can fix this.” His hands were pressing against your bullet wound but it was of no use, blood was flowing past his fingers and staining the sleeves of his jacket.

You raised your own bloody hand and cupped his cheeks, smearing your red fluid across his face, “It’s okay, I’m so happy to have met you. I would’ve loved better circumstances however.” A smile appeared on your fading cheeks but that didn’t stop you from pulling down In-Ho and giving him a bloody kiss.

“Y/N please, don’t do this. I told you to stay back. I knew this would happen. Why didn’t you listen?” Sobs racked his body as he lost his stone-like composure.

He can’t do this without you. He needs you by his side.

“I’ll see you in time, okay? I love you Young-Il.”

Just like that, you were gone.

In-Ho threw his head back in a scream.

Everyone was going to pay for this.

Especially Gi-Hun.

________

I hope you enjoyed this Drabble, if you did, please leave some feedback. It’s appreciated and will help me make more content for you.

Requests are open.

#squid game x reader #hwang inho #in ho x reader

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artificialbreezy · 2 days ago

Note

Hi!!!

I’m here with another thought but it’s Jacky boy this time 😌😌

Best friend! Jack who is extremely possessive and doesn’t like you hanging out with other guys cause he’s actually in love with you and thinks you don’t haha the same feelings for him.

(P.S I’m gonna give myself a lil emoji so that you know it’s me 😂😂)

😈

oh my god, let’s FUCKING GO

CW: friends to lovers, Jacks pov! this is fully unedited.

it was never a thought that crossed your mind that your bestest friend in the whole world would ever look at you the way you look at him.

so you did what any person would, you push the heart eyes as far down as possible and try to move on.

one thing that Jack was big on was location sharing. the world is scary and he wants you safe, and the same peace of mind for you. especially with how often he isn’t home.

so when he’s in Toronto, he checks your location and sees you at a bar? you don’t go to bars, especially alone. it’s like pulling teeth to get you out.

“hey Flower! facetime in 15?” the text read.

when 30 minutes past and he saw no text back, he sent another.

“you okay? you’re at the bar. are you by yourself?”

“no Jack. why would i be by myself at a dive bar?”

he felt himself getting irritated. where did this attitude come from? you’re never snippy with him.

he sighs as he presses the little button, listening to the line ring.

“yes Jack?”

“go home. i’m calling you an uber. whoever you’re with will be fine. you’re going home.” he spoke, stern. leaving no room for arguing. immediately hanging up.

the only communication from him until he got home was the text your uber arrived and a “glad you’re home safe.”

the pounding on his front door pulled him away from his call with Quinn. listening to his brother ramble on his ear how he should just tell you how he feels instead of being a fucking weirdo.

“Quinn, gotta go. she’s here and she looks mad.” he spoke as he’s hanging up.

your hand was flat against his chest, pushing him into his apartment. you may be mad, but you’re not causing a scene in the hall. “you have some fucking nerves Hughes. you not only crash my date but then you full fucking ghost me? the fuck is your problem? game go sour so you take it out on me?”

he smiled at her, the red of her cheeks spreading up her neck a little. she’s hot when she’s mad.

“oh! okay! you stay silent then! i’m leaving. fuck this and fuck you.” she’s turning around, all but stomping back to my door.

“sit the fuck down, Flower. you’re not going to come into my home with all this attitude and not give me a god damn second to tell you why. so sit down, and shut up. 5 minutes is all i need.”

there she goes, huffing and puffing. at least she’s sitting down.

“i texted you. i asked to call. you never ignore me, you never say no to a facetime. i checked your location and asked if you were okay. you took a second so i texted your friend and she said you were on a date with her coworker. it was late, i know you hate bars and i wanted you home and safe. i’m sorry i went ghost. i was stuck in my head. i didn’t know how to tell you. Quinn said i was stupid. he’s right. i am. you’re my best friend and i shouldn’t feel bad about this. i just, i don’t wanna be your friend anymore.” he took a breath, seeing tears swell up in your eyes. “i want to be more.”

it felt like his world stopped. there was a silence he didn’t like. he didn’t know what you were gonna do or even say. you felt unreadable for the first time in 13 years.

“Jack,” she whispered. “what do you mean by more?”

“ideally i’m your husband but ill settle for boyfriend for a while.” he found himself playing with the back of his hair, that nervous movement he’s done forever.

“you’re not just saying this? please tell me you’re not joking.” her tears kept falling and his heart ached. why would he joke about this? why would she think he was fucking with her?

he didn’t trust his voice, knowing he’d just cry with her. he knelt down in front of her, his hands resting comfortably on her cheeks. leaning forward just enough that his lips were hovering hers. “i’m so serious, flower.”

“kiss me then.”

didn’t need to tell Jack twice.

#ask breezy #😈 anon #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes headcanon #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes headcannon

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pinkaditty · 16 hours ago

Text

Starstruck Coral (Romeo Lucci x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

okay so uh. i don’t really know how to explain this one. like truly i don’t. i feel like it came 2 me in a vision from a higher power or something bc this doesn’t feel like it was my own idea, much less self-indulgent, but regardless??? i actually like it!!!!

a/n: what i can say is that this was directly inspired by me buying this lip plumper tint called "Starstruck Coral" and how literally everyone around me once i put it on was like "ITS SO PRETTY!!" so yea. that's what this is. also. yea. been writing a lot of porn-free fics lately. don’t worry, im not uninspired. rather, i just wanna focus on budding feelings 4 a little while. then it’ll be back 2 porn i promise. im too insane 2 be kept from porn 4 very long i fear.

maybe part 2? maybe? idk yet i dunno. i might. i might not. we’ll see what my brain says…

summary: romeo cannot stand your visage so he styles it to his liking. why are you suddenly the belle of the ball? (leo, rui, haru, ed, and lyca make guest appearances here lol)

cw: some sexual comments. minors dni as per usual. no smut i fear!

“...Why are we doing this, again?”

“Shut up.” Romeo’s voice is practically seething with barely restrained anger as you interrupt his focus for the umpteenth time. He holds up one finger in the air towards you, not even turning to look at you. He slowly puts his finger down, and his hands twitch, clearly resisting the urge to ball into fists. “Just shut up. Let me handle this.”

Romeo continues perusing the available colors. Pearlescent White, Modest Matte Mauve, Cherry Pop Red, Hot Tease Pink, Starstruck Coral, and Raven’s Wing Black. He narrows his eyes and whips his head around to your face, studying your features intensely. His eyes pause on your lips, and he frowns as you roll them between your teeth nervously.

“Would you stop-! Urgh, nevermind.” He starts before abruptly stopping, turning fully towards you and grabbing your face, directing it in different angles in the light. He pays strong attention to your lips, noting the thickness, color, and shape of them. He grumbles to himself, looking back at the colors on the shelf. Only one seems to be a perfect match.

Starstruck Coral. That’s the one.

He plucks it off the shelf and places it in the basket before stalking off to the cash register. He knows you know to follow him, and you do, meekly following his steps, still unsure of the purpose of this outing. You shift idly from one foot to the other as he pays at the cash register, listening to the general ambiance of the store. People chattering, items being scanned, wheels of carts rolling along the tile floor. You’re idly reading the label of a pop culture magazine when Romeo appears at your side, sour expression etched into his face. It makes you jump, and he looks at you with an even sourer expression. “Let’s go,” is all he says, his voice loud and demanding, leaving little room for argument. He walks off again, casting a look over his shoulder to ensure you’re following him, which you are, confused expression still stuck on your face.

The two of you return to the Darkwick train station through a door labeled “Employees Only”, careful not to get caught. Once you board the train, Romeo unceremoniously tosses the bag of products towards you and sits across from you. His expression is enough to broadcast that he’s more than over this, despite having spent hours meticulously scanning the available products to find the ones that best matched your skin. He studies you again as you take your seat and the train begins to move. His eyes rove over your face again, as though picking apart your appearance in search of flaws. He hardly flinches when you look up and catch his gaze, though when you nervously turn away, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Go on. Ask what you want to ask.” His voice comes out exactly as exasperated as he’d meant it to be. He would hope this would discourage you from asking any questions, but he knew better than that.

He watches you shift nervously before speaking up, looking down at your fingers fidgeting with the bag instead of making eye contact with him. “...What is all of this for?”

He exhales, already sick of answering your questions even though he hadn’t answered any. “That anomalous cloak does not do your makeup for you.” Part of him assumes this would be enough explanation, but at your still confused expression, he rolls his eyes and continues explaining. “I am tired of going on missions with someone as basic and unappealing as you. If you are going to be a constant, I insist you at least know how to do your makeup to fit in when we go on high-class missions.” He doesn’t bother sugarcoating anything. Instead, he leans back in his seat again, deciding this was a job well done. He hears the crinkling of the bag and pops one eye open, watching you as you study the products in the bag. You pull out the Starstruck Coral lip tint and suddenly you have his full attention. He opens both eyes and tries to discreetly lean forward, watching as you turn the box around in your hands. He was awful proud of that choice. It was the perfect ombre blend of coral and pink, not too warm and not too cool. It would match your undertone perfectly and it even had a shimmering quality to it. So long as you wore it right, he was sure it’d refine your appearance an exceptional amount.

After finishing praising himself for his genius internally, he leans his head back onto his seat, content to just get this over with. As long as you didn’t look as constantly unappealing as you usually did on missions, it would be fine. He couldn’t get why, but it irritated him. Granted, your skin was okay at best. There were some acne scars here and there, blackheads all over your nose, and slightly puffy undereye, which he suspected was from not getting enough sleep on this accursed campus. Other than those faults, your skin was okay. No visible outbreaks or dryness. He had to applaud you for at least taking his advice to heart and moisturizing a little bit. It had done noticeable wonders, at least to him.

He hears the unmistakable sound of plastic wrap being torn, and he perks up again, noticing you unwrapping the Starstruck Coral lip tint. He leans forward again, curiosity suddenly bubbling within him. “Put it on.” He says before he can think about it, his eyes focused on the small unwrapped box in your hands.

“...Huh?” You give him a puzzled look, tilting your head. His eyes flick towards you in annoyance and he gestures towards the box, his eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

“Don’t be dense, put it on!”

You nod hurriedly, and he can tell from the way your eyes glimmer that you’d wanted to try it. He has to resist the urge to smile, your subtle but affirming reaction filling him with pride. He watches as you open the box and pull out the lip tint, turning it over in your hands before unscrewing it open. Romeo can already feel himself growing impatient, idly tapping his foot as he waits for you to start. “It may be a little messy because I don’t have a mirror, but I’ll do my best.” You warn him, finally unscrewing the tint, admiring the pretty ombre color. He sits up when you speak, and unbeknownst to you, a scowl crosses his face momentarily. You hear his footsteps before you see him, crossing the short distance across the train in record speed and snatching the tint away from you before you could apply it with shaky hands.

When you look up at him questioningly, he shakes his head, holding the tint and applicator brush in his hand. “Just hold still.”

With that, he leans over you, placing the thin tube of tint in your hands and firmly holding your chin, his eyes seemingly glued to your lips. “Open.” When you do as he says, he gently applies the tint to your bottom lip, pursing his own lightly glossed lips as he focuses. He exhales, and fails to notice the way you shiver, his breath fanning over your neck. His knuckles gently press into the soft skin of your cheek and chin as he carefully follows the border of your lips, watching as the plush skin yields to the pressure before plumping up again. Somewhat caught between a haze of his intense focus applying the tint and unexpected fascination with the buoyancy of your lips, Romeo accidentally smudges some of the tint. Despite his bubbling annoyance at his own blunder, for a moment, it’s an almost charming imperfection. The lip tint glitters against your skin, smudged just off the corner of your parted lips. If he were any more brazen, he would have given in to the odd temptation unfurling in his stomach to simply kiss it away. Fortunately for him and his own reputation, he’s far more proper than that. With a pointed glare at the corner of your lips, he wipes away the smudge with his gloved thumb. He glances at the sparkling residue left on his glove before wiping it away onto your top lip. When you flinch in response, he has to suppress a shiver down his spine. This action was inexplicably intimate, yet he didn’t understand where his flusteredness was coming from. There was no reason to act nor feel like this.

He applies the tint to your top lip in a more rushed fashion, suddenly wanting to replace the earlier distance between you two. He frowns when he finishes, nitpicking any slight smudges or missed spots, before stepping away, admiring his work. “There.” He plucks the tint from your grasp, screwing the applicator back on and tossing it into the bag. “...This might be good enough,” he says, feigning confidence, but he can hear the way his voice wavers with uncertainty, a part of him itching to do more. His gaze flickers upwards to meet yours and an idea pops into his head. He could do your lashes. They were long by itself, but some of the mascara he’d bought couldn’t hurt. Despite himself, he finds himself sitting back down in front of you, reaching for and holding your chin firmly again. He turns your head every which way, determining what else he could do to refine your appearance some. Unfortunately, he’s aware this train ride ends soon, and he feels himself getting nauseous at the idea of spending more time with you than he has to, despite the anticipation crawling up his spine. He reaches for the bag again, pulling out the mascara he’d bought earlier. When you reach out your hand to apply it yourself, he gently swats your hand away. “No. Hold still.”

He doesn’t give you much choice, still holding your chin and pulling your face closer to his. He purses his lips again, telling you not to blink as he applies your mascara. He finds himself staring at your eye color, noting the color of the mascara in comparison. Perhaps next time he ought to choose something that made your eyes stand out more, or maybe that’d be easier done with some eyeshadow in the correct shade. He decides to halt his thoughts there, scowling. He had to focus, and he was damn well sure there wouldn’t be a ‘next time’. He internally recoils at the thought of having to peruse the shelves with you over his shoulder again, constantly shifting your expressions, making it harder for him to focus. The slight furrow in your brow even now was distracting, and all he could think about was how he wanted to remind you that frowning causes wrinkles, and you would be especially susceptible to them if you didn’t keep up your skincare regime. Instead, he lets go of your chin and flicks you between your brows, frowning at you himself. When you get the message and relax your expression, he nods appreciatively and continues his task, moving to your other eye.

Finally, the task was complete. His eyes flick back and forth between your eyes, watching as you blink at him dubiously. When satisfied, he pulls away, screwing the applicator back into the mascara and observing your face. Your eyes seemed wider and brighter, and the added mascara helped your lashes appear longer. Your lips were bright and shimmering, still covered in that Starstruck Coral color. Romeo smiles to himself, proud with how he managed to turn around your appearance with so little. He reaches for your face again, holding your cheeks with considerable tenderness, as though scared one wrong move would smudge and ruin the perfect portrait of you. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath as he gazes at you, checking your entire face for imperfections, glazing over the negligible or unnoticeable imperfections that couldn’t be immediately cleared. He exhales, feeling himself gleam with pride as a reluctant smile digs into his cheeks yet again. He sits down beside you, still holding your face. “Non c'è male…” He mutters to himself, finding his gaze lingering again on the pretty ombre mesh of pink and orange and red on your lips. Truly, Starstruck Coral had been the right choice.

He’s basking in his pride more when he hears the shutter click of a camera, and a whistle in a familiar voice. “Now this will do numbers on WickHive.” The same familiar voice cackles and Romeo already knows he hadn’t moved away quickly enough to avoid the picture. One glance up and there he is, Leo, staring down smugly at his phone, where the incriminating image is probably being held. Surprisingly, hunched over Leo’s shoulder is Rui, inspecting the picture with a crease in his brow. Romeo cannot believe his lack of luck.

Romeo catches it when Rui makes eye contact with you, and it doesn’t escape him how Rui’s eyes flicker with an emboldened interest. Stepping past Leo, Rui heads to you with an extra skip in his step, wide smile already spreading across his face. His voice is higher than usual, and Romeo wonders if mere makeup was enough to trip up the ladykiller himself. “Woooow, MC!” He stops a short distance away from you, his eyes flickering across your face as he takes in your makeup. “You look cuter than usual today. What’s brought this on, huh?” Rui’s tone is filled with mirth as he pokes your nose playfully. Romeo stiffens and has to bite back the urge to swat his hand away from your face.

Romeo carefully watches your reaction, and is almost relieved when you don’t smile immediately. “You like it? I haven’t seen how it looks yet.” You reply to Rui, a little hesitant but clearly glad for the praise.

Rui sticks his bottom lip out in a mock pout. “Awww, you should! You look so cute!” His face breaks out into a wide smile again, and it’s almost crushingly obvious that Rui’s a flirtier version of Kaito at this point. “I’m assuming we have you to thank for this, hm?” Romeo looks up to notice Rui’s gaze on him as Rui vaguely gestures in your direction.

Romeo doesn’t resist the urge to puff his chest out a bit, folding his arms indignantly. “Indeed.” His terse answer doesn’t hide his swelling pride, he’s aware, but brevity is the soul of wit, which he likes to claim to possess.

“He picked out some makeup items for me.” You chime in, holding up the bag with a relaxed smile. It seems you’ve finally taken to Rui’s compliments.

Rui shakes his head with a complicated look in his eyes, clearly picking up on the message behind the gift, but happy for you nonetheless. “Well, leave it to Romeo to pick out such a pretty color. It suits you.” Rui winks at you before finally finding a seat on the train, just across from you, taking Romeo’s former seat.

Leo, who’s clearly been either editing the picture or waiting his turn to soak up all the attention, saunters up to you, smug smile still on his face. Romeo doesn’t miss how your earlier smile seems to fade all at once. He would laugh, but it’s not that funny.

“Gotta say, I agree with Rui. Who knew…” Leo trails off, his fingers reaching for your chin and holding it with uncharacteristic tenderness, tilting your face upwards towards him. Romeo notices how you stiffen at the contact. “...That the honor student could be—” Leo suddenly snaps his lips shut, and Romeo can tell from the way his lips purse despite being in a smug smirk that he had to bite back a compliment. Leo only falters slightly, brow creasing minutely before quickly straightening again, lips quirking back up into a teasing smile, more words as demeaning as they were saccharine sweet on the tip of his tongue. “Well, it suits you. You might even be unrecognizable enough to pass as a beauty in this picture.” Leo smirks, waving his phone in his hand.

Romeo finds himself intervening before he can really think about it. He swats Leo’s hand away from your chin. “Stop that. You’ll smudge her foundation.” A blatant lie, but it would be sound enough to get him to back off, Romeo hopes. Something about this was fraying at his nerves.

Leo raises a crooked brow at Romeo, a slow, shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “I don’t know, Romeo. The blackheads on her nose account for a lack of any foundation at all. Nice try, though.” Romeo should be thankful Leo lets it go, but all he can do is turn away indignantly, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. He hears a chuckle before light footsteps padding away, and gently exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. By god, of all people to board the train at that moment…

Rui walks at a much faster pace than you and Romeo, strained expression on his face. He’d left Lyca and Ed in charge of the bar while he was off on a short mission, as he explained earlier, and could only hope that they hadn’t mistakenly set the bar on fire.

Romeo was headed to the bar for drinks, and as far as he was concerned, you were coming with him. The earlier incident with Leo convinced him he cannot let you out of his sight for today. Leo had cited some excuse for not coming to the bar, but Romeo could tell from the grin Leo flashed his way that he can expect that picture to be all over WickHive by evening. A drink to forget it, even temporarily, would be enough for Romeo.

Rui heaves a sigh of relief as he steps into the bar, glad to find nothing on fire nor destroyed, but Lyca doing the work while Ed sits perched at the bar. A red shock of hair buried in a white sleeve also denotes another guest. Romeo has to grit his teeth, remembering how Haru went on and on about you after first meeting you. He can only imagine the endless waterfall of praise he’ll surely come up with on the spot seeing you even remotely dolled up. He makes a mental note to bring painkillers for the inevitable headaches he gets when he comes here and Haru happens to arrive.

Clearly, Romeo needs to be more forthright about how he’s trying to protect his ears, because when you plop yourself down in the seat right next to Haru, all he feels is dread. He quickly slips into the seat on your other side, despite there being no remaining danger.

Rui, finally behind the bar, gently nudges Haru. He immediately raises his head, and Romeo can’t tell if he woke up that quickly or was already awake and out of it so soon. The faint blush on his face indicates the latter. As Haru reorients himself, Romeo notices Lyca peering at you oddly. He’d never so much as heard this boy speak, but something tells him he’s going to be as much as, if not more of, a headache than Haru.

“Oh, hi MC-! …Wait. Something’s different about you.” Haru’s voice had its classic drawl it always had when he’s getting close to being hammered. Romeo’s sure it’s loud enough to be heard from Obscuary’s entrance. He watches, jaw clenched tight as Haru inspects you. Boldly, and probably not realizing how drunk he is, Haru reaches out, his gloved fingers lightly tracing the skin above your eyebrows. Romeo notices you don’t recoil at this touch, but he doesn’t know if it’s because you know he’s drunk or if you happen to not dislike Haru. Both options are less than ideal.

Puzzled expression still stuck on his face, Haru traces his fingers downwards, caressing your cheek. “Yea…” He mutters to himself, his eyes tracing the path of his fingers. “Something’s…” his fingers reach the corner of your lips, “...Different…Oh!” His eyes widen like it’s finally occurred to him, and his gaze remains transfixed on your lips, shimmering coral color still bright and undisturbed on them. “You’re wearing makeup!”

“Is that what that is?” Lyca cuts in, suddenly appearing behind you, craning his neck to get a good look at your face. He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing your appearance before leaning away, satisfied. He crosses his arms, a light blush dusting his face as he tries to ignore the staring he just did. “Hmph. It’s pretty.” His compliment is short and terse, but Romeo can tell from your relieved sigh that you’re happy to receive it nonetheless. However, said compliment is quickly followed up by: “...You reek of the damn blond gigolo, though.”

Rui stiffens behind the bar, cleaning a glass. “Come on, my cologne isn’t that potent.” He looks up from his task to find all five of you avoiding his gaze.

Ignoring Rui’s distressed cry of shock, Haru turns to you again. “Lyca’s right. It is pretty. Though…” Haru leans towards you, his chin propped up in his hands, “I always thought you were quite the looker, you know.” His smile is disarmingly handsome, even to Romeo. His flushed cheeks and lovestruck gaze probably only add to it. Romeo suppresses a gag, turning away.

Rui, having partially recovered from the prior shock, also leans towards you, resting his cheek in his palm, partially hiding a cheeky smile. He hums in agreement with Haru, nodding. “Can’t disagree with that. You’re an attractive gal.”

Romeo shivers, ready to pull you away from Haru and Rui’s gazes. When Lyca cranes his neck to gaze at you again, Romeo snaps.

“Will you horny dogs keep your dicks in your pants and your lascivious gazes off of her?!” He knows he’s one to talk considering the way your lips simply shimmering was enough to disarm him on the train, but still. This was ridiculous.

“Really, now…” A soft, low, velvety voice echoes through the silence following Romeo’s outburst. Ed appears behind you, gently placing his hands over your ears. He mockingly frowns disapprovingly at Romeo. “Using such vulgar language in front of a lady…” He shakes his head and tuts a few times, a smile crawling onto his face. “Surely you know your manners?”

Rui chimes in, teasing grin all over his face. “He may need a refresher on them.”

With that, Haru, Rui, and Ed dissolve into snickers, just as Romeo bursts into a blush. Lyca, off to the side, looks a little confused.

“I don’t get it. Why not use words like that in front of her?”

Romeo’s walking you home. He insisted on it. He wasn’t about to let a repeat of him being humiliated yet again by your side, nor was he going to let some other ghoul or normal human lay his eyes on you, at that. Maybe this makeup was a bad idea. But then, he turns to sneak a quick glance at you. Your expression appears quite pleased, and your shimmering lips are curled into a small smile.

Well. Maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea.

“Thank you.” Romeo’s surprised to hear you pipe up, and turns towards you questioningly.

“For what?”

“For the makeup.” You gaze at him kindly, giving him a small smile. He’s taken aback by it. “Can’t say you were kind about it, but I appreciate it regardless.”

Romeo hardly stiffens at the comment. He knows he wasn’t particularly kind about it, but that’s the point. How else is someone who can hardly remove their blackheads going to take proper care of their skin? He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, letting his thoughts run around his head. Part of him wondered if he had another reason for buying you makeup in the first place, and why this entire gift felt like it was only going to bite him in the ass later. Maybe it already was, what with how you’d managed to catch the attention of every single ghoul they’d encountered today. But that didn’t make sense. Why would you gaining attention bite him in the ass? He shakes his head, a blush forming on his face as though he already knows the answer.

“Shut up. Just use it on missions.” Romeo’s response is as terse as ever, quick and to the point. He watches as you roll your eyes, and something in him twinges, partially wishing he could’ve given a nicer comment.

When you arrive at the chapel, he watches you bound up the steps, sticking around despite himself. He musters up an obligatory “Good Night,” right before you close the door on him, and he watches as your shimmering Starstruck Coral lips pull into a grin.

“Goodnight, Romeo.”

He turns away as you close the door, ready to fill the rest of his walk back to Sinostra with more pondering. His phone buzzing in his pocket interrupts his peace, however, and he turns it on only to find an innumerable amount of notifications from WickHive.

“Kurosagi…” He curses his name under his breath. “When I get you…”

a/n: yippee!!!!!!! im surprised i managed to finish this. i honestly like it a lot, i think it's really cute and i like the way i wrote it. i genuinely hope you guys like it too!!!!!

shameless note that, as usual, i love likes, comments, tagged reblogs, and asks!! please feel free to let me know in any way you like just how much you loved my writing! it's what keeps me going!

until next time!!!

EDIT BC I SOMEHOW FORGOT?: a few hc's im adding 4 relevance's sake:

rui wears strong cologne and douses himself in it

haru has grey eyes

that's all yippee!!

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planetpedri · 2 days ago

Note

hiii

could u write an academic enemies to lovers for kenan yildiz pleaseeee

Do I wanna know? 𖦹 Kenan Yildiz !

summary. You’d known Kenan since you were kids, you’d despised him since you were kids, and even know in college, you—oh. Maybe you didn’t?

word count. 545+

disclaimers. banter / slight enemies to lovers due to rivlary

bea speaks! didn’t even realize i’ve had this in my drafts since september i am so so sorry??? and this is kind of open ending but wtv i need it out of my drafts asap

You’d thought leaving your hometown for university would mean freedom—freedom from him. Kenan Yizdiz. But, as if the universe found pleasure in your misery, Kenan had shown up at orientation day with the same annoyingly perfect smile, acting as though he wasn’t the bane of your very existence.

You’d known Kenan for as long as you could remember, but not in the way that was heartwarming. No, he’d been your rival since grade school. Always somehow always beating you in everything. The spelling bee’s and honor rolls. Everything.

So, seeing him on orientation day was… well, infuriating.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he had drawled, leaning casually against the registration table as you signed in. “Still chasing my shadow?”

“More like trying to escape it,” you’d snapped, not even sparing him another glance. “Guess I failed that too.”

Now, three years later, Kenan is still somehow everywhere. In your classes. In the library. Everywhere. He’s still the same old Kenan—competitive, cocky, and stupidly good at everything he does.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. It was the way his smug grin grows wider every time he beats you (which is annoyingly often.)

The final straw comes when you were both nominated for the same prestigious academic award for your class. Today, you’d caught him the library with dozens of books spread around his study table.

“You’re really trying to win this, huh?” You ask, slamming your book into the table across from him.

Kenan’s gaze flickers up to you, unimpressed. “What gave it away, genius? The mountain of research around me or the fact that I’m not out partying like a dog like you act like I do?”

Okay, attitude.

“Hard work doesn’t make you special, Yildiz,” you shoot back. “It simply makes you tolerable.”

“Funny.” He counters quickly, leaning back into his chair. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

The two of you lock eyes, and for a moment something shifts. You were so used to the banter, the constant push and pull, that it takes you by surprise when his smug smirk.. softens?

“Why do you even hate me so much?” He asks, voice dropping into a quieter tone, breaking the silent tension. “You’ve been acting like this since we were kids. Like I stole your puppy or something.”

Your posture straightens and you shift on your feet uncomfortably. “Well, Frank did run to you before me that once.” You scoff at the memory of your childhood dog and Kenan, “and, I don’t hate you, Kenan. I just don’t like losing to you. That’s all.”

The brunettes lips twitch into a grin, “Is that so? Because I don’t mind losing to you.”

That.. well, it shut you up. Your eyes lock on his, stunned, while he gathers his books. As he walks past, he leans down just enough to whisper in your ear, his hot breath painting your cheeks a crimson red.

“Maybe if you stopped trying so hard to beat me—to dislike me, you’d realize we could make a really good team.”

Then he leaves.

Leaving you standing there, pulse racing, wondering what the hell just happened. And when did your agitating rival become someone who made your heart stutter.

Better yet, did you want to know?

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @sakashq @ar4ujos @be11ingham @spidybaby @st4rgirl-ellie @piastri-fvx

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youkeepmehigh · 3 days ago

Text

Kevin’s Heart

Ekko x fem!reader 18+ This is for future use in my new Wattpad series The Butterfly Effect sooo you should definitely check it out ;) Also I listened to the song Kevin’s Heart by J. Cole while writing this hence the title so if you want you should listen to it while you read this or just listen it whenever it’s a good song lol

Ekko is a hard worker guy, leading the Firelights and working on all his little projects in his workshop and like everyone else he gets stressed out from time to time. Especially when he locks himself up in his workshop for hours and maybe even days on end. Everyone’s too scared to check on him, afraid they’ll get cussed out for disturbing him but not you.

You sat on the bed in his workshop just watching him with a slight frown. He’d write something down, try and go with, realize it wouldn’t work, erase. He repeated that cycle many times before getting frustrated. “Fuck!” He cursed throwing his pencil down on his desk before leaning back in his chair, pinching his nose bridge and sighing heavily as he tried to keep himself composed.

You got up from the bed quietly making your way towards him. You stood behind him massaging his tense shoulders. “You’re gonna burn yourself out at this rate…” You practically whispered in his ear, you felt him slowly start to relax, melting at your touch. “I know…” He said softly as he took his hand away from his face resting it in his lap, you let out a soft hum a small smile forming on your face as an idea formed in your head.

“You wanna take a little break?” You asked as you ran your hands down his chest, making your voice so soft and sweet he couldn’t immediately dismiss you. “What’s going on up in that little head?” He asked tilting his head up at you, earning a small giggle from you. You gently ran your hands back up his chest stopping at his neck, you gave him a small yet somewhat passionate kiss getting a small groan out of him.

“You just relax while I take care of you, yeah?” You responded turning his chair away from his desk, you walked in front of him before getting on your knees making him visibly flustered. “Take…care of me?” He repeated feeling his stomach do flips just from seeing you like this, was what he thinking really about to happen? He’d never had a blowjob before…but he wasn’t going to admit it, no way.

“Mhmmm.” You hummed as you ran your hands along his thighs slowly making your way up to the belt of his pants, so very…antagonizing. He let out a small sigh as he leaned back slightly spreading his legs a bit wider. “That’s it, forget about everything else.” You said softly as your hands finally made it to his belt slowly unfastening it. He couldn’t resist just staring at you and your hands watching your every move, his dick activity growing in his pants.

Once you unfastened his belt you slightly pulled his pants down, met with his boxers and the bulge coming from underneath. “Someone’s excited to see me.” You teased as you put a hand on his lower abdomen slowly running it down his abs and his happy trail taking a moment to admire the short white hairs leading all the way under his boxers, you continued before stopping at his waistband for a moment before grabbing it and pulling it down, his cock practically burst out.

He was incredibly hard and big like more than you intentionally thought he was, you weren’t going to back down though you came so far already might as well finish the job. You were stuck in thought for a moment looking at it before being broken out of it by him saying something. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.” He teased waiting for you to make your next move, he was secretly trying to mask his nervousness with cockiness. “I don’t get cold feet.” You replied before taking a hand and grabbing his dick giving it slow strokes, if anything you were just being really bold right now. He let out a small huff at the sudden contact keeping his eyes locked on yours. You let out a giggle seeing his reaction starting to speed the strokes up.

After a few moments he was slowly becoming a mess. He was letting more desperate sounding moans and starting to squirm, he was trying his best not to though he wanted this moment to last for a good while. One thing he couldn’t stop was his hips instinctively thrusting into your hand every once in a while, letting out a small whimper as he did it. “Stay still.” You ordered as you sped up the pace even more making him let out a long groan.

He tried his best to stay as still as possible, his hands gripping the armrest of his chair. He never realized how rough his hands were compared to yours until now, yours were so soft almost as if you hadn’t lifted a finger your whole life at least compared to his. “Don’t be shy, use your words.” You teased as you slowly licked the leaking pre-cum off of his tip earning a moan out of him, making him toss his head back. “That feels so- so…fucking good…” He said softly, you were making it so hard to focus.

You couldn’t help but smile a bit seeing how much he liked this, you decided to take it a step further by wrapping your lips around his tip slowly bobbing your head on just his tip. “Oh my god…” he mumbled resting the back of his hand on his forehead, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. This already felt better than he ever had imagined, the high he was getting from this was different than any other high he’s felt. This high felt dangerous.

He felt almost as if he didn’t deserve any of this, to be treated like this, to be loved like this. But he felt too good to care right now.

You slowly started going down further and further, still stroking and twisting at him with one hand your other hand resting on his thigh. He glanced down at you watching you intensely, he felt like he might of just found the love of his life but it still felt so wrong having to a Plitie all over him like this. His hand went over to you tangling his fingers in your hair before grabbing you by it, he set the pace just the way he wanted it. Slow.

You let him do as he wanted, when you felt his hand gripping your hair you started to notice how wet this was actually making you. You slipped your free hand down your pants, starting to play with yourself as you sucked him off, rubbing your clit in circles. He let out more and more noises getting louder by the minute as he felt his release coming, he was worked up before but now you replaced it with a different type of worked up, the good kind.

“I’m so close…” he groaned, he started making the pace faster and pushed your head farther down. You let out a small whine as your circles became more faster and sloppy. He let out a small lighthearted laugh hearing you whine making your stomach do a flip.

His hands grip on you got a bit tighter as he came very close to cumming, despite his grip on you, you took the rest of his length in your mouth forcing him down your throat making tears build up in your eyes. Almost on command he came down your throat letting out a few moans and gasps as he did. “Fuck…” he said in almost a whisper as he looked down at you, you lifted your head up letting out a few coughs.

“Feel better?” You asked looking up at him earning a smile out of him, which you hadn’t seen in a while. “Much better.” He said as he leaned forward towards you giving you a long passionate kiss. “My turn to take care of you now huh?” He said after breaking the kiss.

Part 2?? ;)

Wattpad:

#ekko arcane #ekko #ekko league of legends #ekko lol #ekko x reader #ekko x you #firelight ekko #league of legends #lol #arcane #fanfic

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ph6ntomm · 2 days ago

Text

HARRY’S HOUSE MASTERLIST

── .✦ IN WHICH … the desire for a relationship cannot be denied any longer.

── .✦ DISCLAIMER … this is purely fictional. this does not depict the reality of anyone or anything. with that being said, please do not use my work against anyone, nor should you apply it to any real life situations.

── .✦ DO NOT … copy, translate, repost, or put my work into ai.

── .✦ WARNINGS … unedited work bc i’m nothing if not lazy when it comes to writing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, very little and awkward dialogue (sorry😭), a kiss, and fluff lol

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

MUSIC FOR A SUSHI RESTAURANT

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

the upbeat music bumped loudly in the backyard of the house. the air was humid, filled with the smell of alcohol and the sounds of people chatting amongst themselves.

quinn stared at you from across the lawn, in a way that others would see as possibly a little weird, but he paid no mind to it. he was nursing the same beer he’d had for the past hour or so. he was only slowly taking sips of it, opting to observe the view across from him.

you were laughing at something jack said, your arm clutching your stomach to keep from completely doubling over. he thought you looked absolutely breathtaking, so he downed the rest of his beer and made his way over to you.

jack took notice to his brothers actions and smiled at you and mumbled something along the lines of leaving you two alone and then decided to walk away and go chat with luke, who was with some of his old friends.

quinn walked with a little pep in his step, excited to be in your presence, and the alcohol giving him some unforeseen courage. he didn’t know if it was the buzz from the alcohol he had previously consumed or what, but he felt a surge of confidence overcome him.

you looked his way with cheerful eyes as he approached you, anticipation building in your chest. a smile quickly overtook your face. it was hard not to smile when he looked like that. a black t-shirt that hugged his biceps perfectly, a casual pair of blue jeans that slid just slightly over the top of his white sneakers, tousled hair that had made it obvious he had been running his hand through it, and a light smirk that could uplift the worst of days.

yeah, if anyone were to ask you, he was perfect.

you leaned back on your elbows against the bar, awaiting the eldest of the brothers arrival. everything seemed to move in slow motion, the way he walked to you, the bustling crowd, even the music seemed to slow down when you looked at him. when he finally got to you, he turned around like he was inspecting the crowd, but in all reality you knew he wasn’t. you knew he didn’t care about the crowd or the people who were standing in it.

“big crowd, huh?” he questioned teasingly. you hummed a sound of agreement as you nodded and turned to take a sip of your drink that made your nose scrunch, some nasty concoction of alcoholic drinks that didn’t really pique your interest, but to have any courage to at least attempt to flirt with the man you’d been crushing on for what feels like forever, you’d need something strong in your system to do so.

“i didn’t think parties were really your thing,” you said to him after a beat of silence. quinn shrugged slightly, leaning in to hear you better over the music. the slight gesture made your heart stop and then speed up. “they aren’t,” he started. “but i really had nothing better to do tonight anyways.” you nodded stiffly in reply, not really being sure what to say to that.

“wanna leave with me? i’m kinda bored of this place anyways.” quinn offered, to which you agreed with quickly. you downed the rest of your drink and left the cup for someone else to pick up. quinn grabbed your hand to lead you through the crowd. you suddenly took notice of how clammy your hands felt, hoping he would just brush it off on the hot, seemingly rising temperature of the crowded yard. he led you to the gate and opened it with his unoccupied hand, still holding yours tightly in his other.

once you were out, he led you to his car, and opened the door for you, and only then did he drop your hand from his own. the gesture made you blush, and you hoped that the dark hid it. based on quinn’s lack of reaction to it, you assumed that luck was on your side. he closed the car door and jogged over to the driver side. you took the few seconds alone to take a deep breath and collect your thoughts.

he got into the car and started it. the radio blared out some random song he had been listening to before. he quickly moved to turn it down, his cheeks becoming a dusty pink under the silvery moonlight. you let out a laugh, quickly covering your mouth with the back of your hand as he closed his mouth and tried not to laugh, but ultimately failing as a light chuckle came out. “sorry about that..” he said after brief moment. “it’s alright, its happens.” you replied to him.

he pulled out of the driveway and started down the road, seemingly to back to the house, but instead took a last minute turn towards the park that wasn’t too far away.

you turned to him, confusion etched across your face. he only glanced over at you briefly, a smirk adorning his face as he turned and continued to look forward at the road ahead.

he pulled into the gravelly parking lot and turns the car off before turning to you. “let’s go for a walk?” he said softly with a look of innocence, like he totally didn’t just trick you into thinking the night was over. you didn’t reply, but instead smiled lightly and opened your door and climbed out and slammed the door harder than intended. you flinched at the sound, but quinn didn’t mind.

the air is calm now, only a gentle breeze stirring about. the night is quiet and peaceful, with the exception of an occasional rustle of leaves and crickets chirping away without a care in the world. the moonlight casts a gentle glow over the top of the lifeless trees.

quinn rounded the car after he’s gotten out and walked over to you, jerking his head towards the path. he starts walking slightly ahead of you, and you have to walk a little faster than you normally would to keep up with him.

when you reach him, he slows his pace a little in acknowledgment. a smile still rests on his face, only his demeanor seems a little more nervous than usual. quinn is usually a relaxed guy, with the exception of a haunted look that resides in his eyes that has never seemed to fade away, which is why the sudden shift felt weird to you.

after a few more seconds of walking, your hands brushed the accidentally. you took notice of the way that quinn slightly tensed out the corner of your eye, but you couldn’t say much either, cause you know that you had too.

quinn broke the silence first. “you know, there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you,” he started as he stopped slowly on the path and turned toward you. you mirrored his stance automatically as your heart-rate began to rise. quinn’s eyes looked anywhere but at yours, to the trees behind you, from the gravel that had been crunched beneath your feet previously, and down to his shoes. quiet literally anywhere but in your direction.

“are you like..okay?” you chuckled lightly in an attempt to diffuse some of the tension. he huffed out a laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh than a laugh. “i’m fine, yeah, but i’m just trying to find the right words.”

your eyebrows rose in understanding as your posture improved slightly. you waited unpatiently for a moment before he began to speak again.

“i think.. no, i know i like you. and not just in a friend way, but i care for you in more of a friend way,” he grabbed your hand and clutched it in his own, and you let him. “you don’t have to say anything, but i just wanted to let you know before i lost the nerve. i’m not sure when i would’ve ever done this..” he trailed off.

for just a second, everything stilled. the crickets seemed to stop chirping and the wind even seemed to stop in time. you stared at him with big, mooney eyes before a smile overtook your face and before he knew it, you were jumping up to hug him. he quickly reciprocated the hug and squeezed lightly. “of course i like you back, silly.” you mumbled as you pulled back just enough to see his face, yours still covered in a smile that looks like it could fall off of your face at any moment.

relief washed over him, and you could feel the tension leave his body as he relaxed more in your grasp. “good,” was all he said before he broke the silence again. “can i.. can i kiss you then?” you didn’t verbally answer, but instead you leaned in and he met you half way.

your lips met softly, a light peck at first, but the both of you couldn’t get enough. you could faintly taste the beer on his lips from earlier. it was a slow, tender kiss that lacked nothing but built up tension. your hands threaded into his hair as his winded around your waist.

you both pulled away breathless, your breathing uneven as you stared into each others eyes and giggled lightly. the silence was heavy, yet knowing as you pulled back slowly and threaded your hand with his. words didn’t need to be exchanged as you walked back to the car together hand in hand.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fluff

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 2 days ago

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Sugar & Spicy Books Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N is an accomplished writer who is newly divorced, and out of fear of the unknown, moves back to her small hometown she swore she’d never come back to. She comes across her best friend that never left, who helps her out of a tough spot. Will old feelings arise? Or is she just too big for such a small place now?

Warnings: language, smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

Later that day Bucky drove Y/N towards his family home. He opened the front door and led her inside. “Ma?” he called out. “Autumn?”

“We’re in the kitchen!” his mother called back.

Y/N felt nervous. She hadn’t seen Winnie in years. They had kept in contact at first, but eventually the letters stopped coming, which she now realized was probably around the time Autumn was born. She still had them buried in a shoebox in her small pile of things she kept. Y/N followed Bucky to the kitchen, looking around and seeing how little the house had changed since she last saw it.

“Hey Ma,” Bucky greeted her, kissing her cheek before turning to a girl standing at the sink. “Hey lovey dove,” he said, hugging her and kissing the top of her head.

“Hey Daddy!” Autumn greeted him, hugging him back. “We’re making cookies!”

“And eating them faster than they come out of the oven, I’m sure,” he joked.

Winnie smiled at him then turned to see Y/N, gasping and dropping the spatula in her hand. “Oh! Oh it can’t be!” she squealed, running around the kitchen island she was standing at. Y/N smiled widely at her as she approached.

“Hey Ma,” she greeted her quietly.

“Sweet girl,” Winnie said, cupping her face in her hands. “Y/N? Oh!” Winnie hugged her tight, rubbing her back and petting her hair as she held her. Y/N fought back a rush of emotions that almost made her cry. Winnie looked so much older than the last time she saw her, but her eyes were still vibrant, her smile still easy, just like Bucky’s. “You’ve been away too long!” she cried.

“I know,” Y/N agreed. “I’m sorry.”

“Daddy, who’s that?” Autumn whispered loudly to him.

Bucky chuckled and brought her closer to Y/N. Winnie let go of her so Autumn could see her better. “Autumn, this is my best friend, Y/N,” Bucky introduced them. “Y/N, my baby Autumn.”

Y/N smiled widely at her. She was beautiful, inheriting her father’s eyes and dimpled chin. Autumn smiled shyly at her. “Hello, Autumn. It’s so nice to meet you. I love your name,” Y/N greeted her.

“Thank you,” Autumn said. “Oh! You’re the lady on Daddy’s book!”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Right, yeah, she wrote it,” he explained.

Autumn looked at Y/N excitedly. “That’s cool! Are you rich?”

“Autumn!” Winnie chastised her.

Y/N laughed. “It’s okay,” she said. “Uh, yeah, kinda rich,” Y/N shrugged.

“Cool,” Autumn sighed.

Winnie had them stay for dinner, talking to Y/N about everything that she had been up to, and giving her updates about everyone in town. “So what’s your plan now?” she asked.

“Well, honestly I don’t know,” Y/N said. “Bucky is being very gracious in helping fix my car in exchange for me taking care of Autumn for a while…if that’s okay with you, Autumn?”

“Yeah!” Autumn cheered. “You can come watch my softball game!”

“I’d love to,” Y/N said.

After dinner and goodbyes Bucky drove Y/N and Autumn back to his home. Y/N smiled at the small house. “You bought Mrs. Richards’ house?” she asked.

“Yeah, fixed it up real good, lots of renovations over the last few years,” he said, grabbing her bags he’d taken from the Beetle.

Y/N followed him and Autumn inside. The house was well decorated and well lived-in, with little messes strewn about. She looked around, taking in the house and smiling. “Alright, lovey dove, time for bed,” Bucky said, gesturing to the stairs while looking at Autumn.

“Aw, Daddy,” Autumn whined. “I wanna hang out with Y/N.”

“Well, you can hang out with her tomorrow after school,” Bucky said. “Now say goodnight and git.”

Autumn stuck her tongue out at him, and he did it back to her. Y/N chuckled as Autumn approached her and hugged her. “Goodnight, Y/N,” she said, then looked up at her. “Will you read me one of your stories?”

“Oh, well, uh,” Y/N bit back a smile, Bucky covering his mouth with his hand, stifling a laugh. “Mine are a little too grown up for you. But I can read you something else.”

“Okay!” Autumn nodded, then turned and hugged Bucky before running upstairs. “I’ll call you when I’m ready!” she shouted.

“Alright!” Y/N replied.

Bucky sidled up to her, nudging her arm. “Aw, you don’t wanna read her one of your great stories?” he teased.

Y/N glared at him. “Shut up,” she whispered.

Bucky snorted. “I’m glad she likes you. I mean, she’s pretty friendly anyways, but she seems to be excited about you watching her for a while.”

“She’s great, Buck,” Y/N smiled at him, nudging his arm back. “You’re a good dad.”

Bucky looked away. “Well, I don’t know about that,” he said quietly. “But thank you.” They stood silently for a moment before he stooped down and grabbed her bags again. “Let me show you to your room.”

She followed him up the stairs to the first door on the right. “This is the guest bedroom,” he said, holding the door open for her. “Next door is Autumn, and I’m across from her. Bathroom is at the end of the hall. It’s a full bath, so you can shower there, and if she’s in there you can always use mine,” he rattled off, setting her bags on the bed. “I usually take her to school on my way to the shop in the mornings, but school gets out at 3:00 and I’m not off until 5:00, so you can use my car to get her and either come back to the shop or take her around town, my mom’s house, or come back here, whatever you want, but then you’ll need to come pick me up. Sound good?”

“Yep,” Y/N nodded. “It’s the least I could do. You’re being very kind to me, Bucky, thank you.”

“Anything for you, honey,” Bucky smirked.

“Y/N! I’M READY!” Autumn screamed from her room.

Bucky rubbed his face harshly in embarrassment as Y/N laughed. “Coming!” she called back. “Duty calls,” she saluted Bucky and walked to Autumn’s room.

“Alright, what’s the bedtime routine?” Y/N asked once she was standing next to Autumn’s bed.

“A short story, a song, and a kiss goodnight,” Autumn said, counting on her fingers.

“Yes ma’am,” Y/N said, turning to the bookshelf. She read Autumn a short story then kneeled by the side of the bed. “What’s your favorite bedtime song?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Daddy sings all kinds of songs,” she shrugged.

“Okay, well let me think…do you like Princess songs?”

“Yeah!” Autumn smiled.

“Who’s your favorite?” Y/N smiled.

“Rapunzel,” she replied, snuggling into her comforter. “From Tangled.”

“Of course,” Y/N nodded. “How about, ‘I See the Light’?”

Autumn nodded fervently. Y/N started to sing the song softly, leaning on her elbows on the bed. She reached up and ran her fingers through Autumn’s hair as she sang. Autumn’s eyelids fluttered closed, and by the end of the song she was snoring. Y/N stood slowly so as not to jostle the bed, then leaned down and kissed the top of her head. She turned to see Bucky watching her from the doorway.

He smiled and walked in, passed Y/N and leaned down to kiss Autumn’s cheek before turning back and taking Y/N’s hand and leading her out of the room, closing the door quietly. He faced her in the hallway. “For somebody who doesn’t have kids, you’re good with mine,” Bucky smirked.

Y/N scoffed. “I never said I didn’t want kids. I just didn’t want them yet. Though I guess I’m running out of time, aren’t I?”

“Oh yes, ‘cause you’re so old,” Bucky teased.

“So old,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

He looked her over for a moment before opening his arms and hugging her. This hug was different from the first one earlier that day. He held her tenderly, squeezing a little as her head nestled into the crook of his neck and her arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing him back. She had missed her friend. And if she were being honest with herself, the childhood crush she had buried was broiling in the pit of her stomach. Bucky kissed the side of her head and pulled away to look at her. “I missed you,” he said quietly.

“I missed you, too,” Y/N replied.

Bucky smiled again then pulled away. “Well, let me know if you need anything. I’m just, right here,” he pointed at the door beside them.

“Got it,” Y/N said. “Goodnight, Buck.”

“Goodnight,” he said.

They stepped around each other and walked into the rooms. Y/N quickly got ready for bed, then sank into the bed with a heavy sigh. She was happy to be in a good place, with good people, and as small as Woodstock was, it was familiar and comfortable. She settled into the blankets as she let sleep overtake her. She was home.

#marvel #bucky barnes #smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #series fanfic #chapter 2 #spicy books

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monowritestoomuch · 3 days ago

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How The Gator Boys Would Calm You Down From A Panic Attack:

Notes: Wassup Bug Army! I promised that I would write for Gator Boys and I’ve delivered! I also have more cooking so stay tuned! Now enjoy what I’ve been cooking!

Bodie:

He is such a good guy it’s unreal (Can you tell he’s my favorite? I wanna hug him so bad)

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he would stay calm, so as to not make you panic more, and would think of a way, slowly, to help you calm down.

If you were to have a panic attack he would undoubtedly be there to calm you down.

It would’ve probably happened around the time you revealed that you were a hunter, starting to hyperventilate as your brain continued to come up with varying scenarios of Bodie’s reaction and how much he would hate you. (He wouldn’t, but you didn’t think that)

He would be there to reassure you that he would never hate you and to help your breathing slow back to a normal rate.

But lets slow our roll back to how he would calm you down,

He would first try and ask if he could touch you and if you nod, he’d wrap his big, strong arms around you and whisper comforting affirmations to you, rubbing your back in an effort to relax you.

If you shook your head to him touching you, he’d just talk. He’d talk slowly and quietly, but he’d sit with you and either tell you stories from when he was a young gator or whisper affirmations to you.

All I know is, that gator has GOT to give the best hugs.

And after he’d make you some gumbo and you’d sit with a nice warm bowl as the two of you chatted.

And then you two would snuggle up under a blanket together and stargaze.

Timmy:

I think Timmy’s reaction would be less calm if you were having a panic attack, but he would try to help nonetheless.

It would probably happen while you two were walking to meet Lora for the first time.

After all the stress you’d been through, with how Timmy reacted to seeing you and practically calling you a good-for-nothing traitor, your brain had been conjuring thoughts about how much Timmy hated you.

When you got too quiet walking down the hall instead of conversing with TImmy, he grew concerned. You, on the other hand, weren’t doing so well. Your breathing had quickened due to your internal panic and your rapidly panicking thoughts started to take over.

Timmy’s concern for you increased as he went, “Hey Bug? You alright?” and got no response.

You, on the other hand, were having jelly legs and felt as if you couldn’t breathe.

It took Timmy a hot minute, but he realized what was going on, basically going, “oh, oh shit!” and internally panicking at you having a panic attack.

He would turn you towards him and take your hands in his, telling you to breathe with him and asking what’s wrong.

You are probably crying softly at this point and through your tears you tell him how you think he must hate you.

Timmy, who up until this point had been having a pretty shitty time, and had sort-of realized that you weren’t trying to have him captured and taken here, realized that you had been here too, trying to get him and Bodie, because Bodie was here, out safely. And because there were now more people to get out and the plan had to change, you were understandably freaking out.

It was honestly a miracle to not have freaked out sooner. Maybe that was the adrenaline speaking.

He would stutter but would sink to the floor, telling you how he did resent you at first, but later learned that you didn’t mean to get him caught up in here and that it was just a terrible situation overall.

He would tell you that he doesn’t hate you and that it’s okay.

Poor bby would comfort you until you felt well enough to get back up and go to meet his mom with him.

It would be awkward but the two of you would make up.

Ngl, this is my theory for why he said that he got caught and not saying that you got him caught.

Marco:

Undoubtedly would happen when you two are speaking in the sewers.

While you two were chatting, you went quiet and he asked if you were okay, or if your leg was bothering you.

You didn’t answer, but felt the weight of the day’s events weigh you down heavier and heavier, everything finally dawning on you.

Your head filled with thoughts, practically drowning you as your breathing quickened.

Marco immediately knew what was up, due to his decent observation skills and Maria being his emotional support bird™

He would gently place a hand on your shoulder, and due to your exhaustion and subsequent panic attack, you would basically crumble into his arms, crying into him.

He would be surprised at first, but would wrap his arms around you and bring your head to his chest.

Similar to Bodie, because Bodie definitely taught him how to do this, he would rub your back in a comforting manner and tell you that you were going to get through this, that all of the group, including him and you were going to get through this.

Once your breathing slowed, he’d ask you if you were alright once more, and then he would ask if your leg was alright.

If nothing else was wrong, you’d wipe your tears on your cloak and you two would continue back through the sewers.

And he’d probably check on you throughout the rest of the arena time, just because he knows you probably need some comforting.

Taglist(lemme know if you wanna be added!):

@rozeliyawashereyall @willowve01 @asmrbrainrot @kaiamtt @iistxrmyskyii @insignificant-anarchy@stxph-artist @aspenm00n @keyaartz @fangsshadow @piffany666 @dreamyshape @idontevenknow7878 @lunaritychuwolf @not-5-rats @littlesiren79 @castbracelet240 @rustycopper4use @strayharmony943 @proxdragon @tiefling-chaos @threeweekinsomnia @recated @wilderrorcard @diamondzoey @fennaboysenberry @lunnats @lightdragon789 @pinkcocopuff-aqualoid @astralbulldragon13 @ccstiles @puffin-smoke @fruity0salad @takashishihoin @headstrashdump @reefhastoomanyaccs @giasparadise @iloveflowers-3 @celestartz @alrischadoeshit @weltthejellyfish @itsargyle

#gator boys #obsidian lantern #obsidian lantern gator boys #the bug army #bug army #told you guys I had a surprise for you!#ehehehehhehehe #panic attack #your honor i love them #bodie’s my favorite #Love yall #this took me an hour

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impala-dreamer · 8 hours ago

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The Devil On Stage

A Short Story

~Lonely during his solo panel, Jensen calls Y/N out to join him on stage. Having nothing much to say, she lets her mind wander a little too far while watching him regaled the audience with stories from the old days on set.~

Jensen Ackles x Fem!Reader

1,432 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Oral. A little Dom!Jensen. Lovely. Just lovely... | Originally published to Patreon December 2022

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

The devil was on stage, sitting just a few feet away.

God, he looked delicious. Truly better than any man had the right to, especially clad in double denim. Y/N narrowed her eyes on him, her mouth watering as he gestured to the audience, animatedly recalling some stunt he’d pulled on set.

The crowd ate it up and he looked back at Y/N over his shoulder, giving her a wink.

She had no clue what he was saying, no idea what the question had been. There was only one thing on her mind, only one thing she could focus on.

Jensen.

Jensen, Jensen, Jensen… The devil in her mind, the monster in her sheets, the rocket between her thighs.

A flood of warmth washed down her body and Y/N shut her legs, squeezing them together tightly. She bit her lip as Jensen laughed, his voice booming through the speakers and her head.

“That’s a great question,” he said, licking his lips slowly and turning to look at Y/N. He smiled, all perfect teeth beneath a clipped, sexy beard. “You wanna take this one?”

She startled, nearly dropping the microphone in her hand. “Uh…” Sitting up quickly, she struggled to remember the question, but nothing was coming to her. She laughed lightly and shrugged. “Nah, you’re better at this than I am. Go on.”

He grinned at the crowd. “She’s right. I am.”

Y/N rolled her eyes in mock annoyance and the audience laughed.

Jensen turned away and all Y/N could see was his plump little ass, stretching the denim tight. She had warned him not to wear those jeans, nearly pulling him back into bed that morning as he got dressed.

He never listened to her.

And now she was in trouble.

The crowd clapped at some answer Jensen had given and he spun on his heel, turning towards the next fan in line.

“How are ya? What’s your name? What do you want from me?”

Y/N laughed. “How do you know she’s not here for me?” she asked, perking up so the world couldn’t see just how lost in lust she truly was.

Jensen shook his head and puffed out his chest. The thin black tee struggled beneath his jacket and her eyes shot right to his pert nipples, standing up and begging to be licked.

“No way,” he countered, nodding at the fan. “She’s all mine.”

The young woman nearly fainted and Y/N hid her face in her hands, pretending to be embarrassed for everyone in the room.

“Come on now… I’m waiting.”

Jensen cocked a brow and a hush fell over the crowd as many an erotically minded fan began tweeting the dominant exposition.

Y/N was right there with them, melting into herself as arousal spread. She felt her pulse quicken, her nipples harden. Her clit throbbed as Jensen cleared his throat and it took everything inside of her not to moan right there on stage.

Absently, she rubbed the microphone, her thumb and index finger circled tight around the black plastic.

Jensen leaned in, listening with a stern expression as the flustered fan asked her question.

Y/N heard none of it, staring at the thick rope of muscle on the side of his freckled throat and remembering what it felt like to feel his heartbeat throb against her lips. She shivered and bit down hard on her bottom lip, hopelessly distracted.

“Interesting…” Jensen straightened up and ran a hand through his hair, thinking up a safe answer. “Well…”

Y/N could feel the wetness pooling in her panties and she locked her knees together, sure that everyone could see the dampness seeping through her jeans.

Green eyes flickered over her face and plump lips lifted in a half grin.

He was the devil.

He knew exactly what was on her mind.

The lights warmed her cheeks but Jensen was warming everything else. With his eyes slyly on her, he fisted the hem of his tee and lifted it high, flashing his stomach to a needy world and a desperate Y/N. It was a tiny bit of skin, just a quick flap of dark fabric against smooth, creamy skin, but it was the last straw.

The microphone fell from her hand with a deafening thud.

Mindlessly aroused, Y/N slid off of her stool and moved towards him. Like a zombie, she dropped to her knees at his feet and looked up with wide, hazy eyes.

Stunned, Jensen’s jaw dropped an inch and his brow lifted again as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, cheeks reddening as her hands lifted to frame his hips.

“I think you know,” she answered softly, running her fingers along the edge of his jeans, caressing the soft patch of skin.

His breath quickened and she could see the outline of his cock as it lengthened in his shorts. She smirked and chewed her lip, moving her fingers down to the buckle of his belt.

With a gasp, he grabbed her wrists. His eyes flickered from hers to the crowd, unsure of what to do.

“We… Y/N… what the hell?”

She chanced a peek at the audience and then shrugged. Not a soul was moving, every fan shocked into silence and staring.

Y/N licked her lips slowly and tugged leather from metal. “Just relax,” she whispered.

His grip loosened. “But…”

The zipper fell slowly, the cool metal tight between her fingers. Y/N held his gaze, teasing with her ruby painted lips and pink tongue. “Let them watch…”

She tugged the denim from his hips, shoved his shorts down to his knees, and kissed her way up his inner thigh. Jensen hissed as her lips grazed the tip of his cock and the audience buzzed in a low voice, stunned.

Y/N dug her nails into his thighs and used her tongue to massage his cock, humming as it grew against her mouth. The taste of him drove her insane and she wiggled on her knees, stuck her ass out, moaned desperate and loud.

Jensen dropped his microphone and the thud echoed through the sound system. Y/N couldn’t hear a thing but his groans, her mind too clouded with lust and purpose.

“Fuck, baby…” He rocked against her face, nudging his cock against her lips. “Please…”

She obliged, fitting the soft circle of her mouth around him and sucking him deep inside. He stumbled on his feet, unsteady as he hit the back of her throat.

“Jesus!”

His hand found the back of her head and he pushed down, forcing her to take him deeper. Drool spilled from the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin and onto the stage floor.

Giving in, Jensen thrust his hips, fucking her face with abandon. She swallowed what she could, caressed his shaft with her tongue, dug her fingers into his skin. Her eyes rolled back, lids fluttering as he used her mouth like a fuck toy. His thick fingers tugged through her hair, moving her, sliding her back and forth over himself. He moaned loudly, his edging growl filling the auditorium.

“This what you wanted?” Jensen grunted. “Wanted me to use you while everyone watched?”

Y/N whimpered in reply as tears sprang to her pretty eyes.

Camera flashes lit her face and Jensen stared down at her, locking his gaze into hers.

“That’s it,” he sneered, “let me see it in your eyes…”

She struggled to keep her eyes wide even as her vision blurred with tears.

“Good girl.”

He exhaled heavily and quickened his pace. His upper lip twitched with effort and his shoulders curled inwards.

The rumble of the crowd grew louder as he pulled his cock from her mouth and wrapped his fist around it, jerking quickly.

“Open up.”

He grit his command and Y/N’s jaw dropped. Her tongue fell out and she tipped her head back, waiting for her reward.

Jensen growled deeply as he came, spurting his seed onto her tongue and across her flushed cheeks. He sprayed her face and she trembled with happiness, her cunt pulsing and dripping.

The fans erupted into thunderous applause and Y/N startled, gasping as the daydream faded away. She shook herself and shifted on her chair, still seated and clean.

Jensen waved a hand in front of her face, looking quite concerned. “You OK over there?”

Y/N swallowed hard and nodded. Her voice was high and tight with lust when she answered.

“Yeah… just a little… distracted…”

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#jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen/you #spn fanfic #rpf

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wwestrang-fan · 2 days ago

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Wanting the enemy

Drew McIntyre x oc reader

warning : a bit of age gap, reader feeling insecure, feeling of loneliness.

Summary: After a few months in NXT, August finally made her debut on Raw alongside her dad's return to WWE. Things were going pretty well for her until Drew McIntyre started causing trouble for both her and her dad.

In the locker room, August tugged on the last strap of her ring gear, letting out a relieved sigh as the tight fabric finally came off. She was still riding the adrenaline high from her match. Just as she was grabbing her clothes, Rhea strutted in, confidence radiating from her. "Hey, August!" she called, casually leaning against the wall. "You wanna hang out with me and Damian for a bit?"

Augustpaused, the offer hanging in the air. "Yeah, thanks, but I think I'm just gonna chill here for a while," she replied, her heart not quite in it.

Rhea shrugged with a playful smirk. "Suit yourself. Don’t be a stranger!” With that, she walked back out.

As August stepped into the hallway, she caught sight of Drew leaning against the wall. He had that signature brooding look on his face, arms crossed, staring straight at her. A knot formed in her stomach. Ever since her debut and her dad’s big comeback, the buzz surrounding them had become deafening. Most of the fans were hyped about the father-daughter duo, but Drew? He wasn’t part of that fan club. Not even close.

He’d been relentless in tossing insults and attacks her dad’s way, even interrupting her promos and her match to get his digs in, which usually only left August feeling more frustrated. And now, here he was, looking like he was about to say something just as sarcastic and annoying.

August rolled her eyes, as she stepped through the backstage area. She pulled out her phone, fingers quickly tapping to summon an Uber. Just as she was about to hit “request,” she felt a presence beside her.

Drew walked up, a smirk dancing on his lips. “What are you doing,” he said, his Scottish accent drawing out the words playfully.

She shot him a glare. “Not your business, Drew,” she replied curtly, returning her attention to her phone. The app was glitching, and her irritation rose with every second of waiting.

He leaned in closer, eyes narrowing as he noticed her struggle. “You’re really having trouble getting an Uber, aren’t you? Why don’t you just ride with me? It’ll save you the hassle.”

August scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. “Yeah, right. I trust you about as much as I trust a sandwich left out for days.”

Drew chuckled, unfazed by her sarcasm. “Come on, I’m not that bad. Besides, you can’t stand there all day, can you?

She hesitated, weighing her options. The thought of enduring more tech issues didn’t sound appealing, and the idea of a few moments of silence in his car seemed oddly tempting.

“Fine,” she finally relented, rolling her eyes. “But if this goes south, I’m kicking your ass.”

"Drew grinned, motioning for her to follow him.

As they walked side by side, August couldn’t help but feel the awkward tension shifting. She may not like him much, but maybe a ride wouldn’t be the worst compromise.

As the cab pulled up to the hotel, Drew turned to August with a triumphant grin. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

August rolled her eyes, pushing the door open to step out onto the curb. “You say that like a car ride with you was a picnic in the park.” She stepped out onto the pavement, smoothing down her outfit as she took in the bustling scene around them.

Drew chuckled, stepping out behind her and adjusting his jacket. “Hey, at least I didn’t start any fights or make snarky comments. Progress, right?”

She shot him a sideways glance, the corners of her mouth pulling into a reluctant smile. “I guess. Just don’t let it go to your head,” she replied, leading the way toward the hotel entrance.

They walked through the revolving door, entering the bright lobby.

Drew casually, cross his arms. “You know, you could lighten up a bit. I’m just trying to be nice here.”

August glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow. “You being nice is like a lion not Huntington—totally out of character.”

Drew laughed, following her toward the elevator. “Touché. But you know, life’s too short to be that serious all the time.”

She pressed the button for their floor, the elevator doors sliding shut behind them. “And you think I should take life advice from you?” she shot back, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Why not? I’m practically a philosopher when I want to be.” He leaned against the wall, that infuriating charm of his shining through.

August rolled her eyes again but couldn’t suppress a smile. Maybe being around him wouldn't’t be utterly miserable after all.

As August stepped into the hallway, the lights overhead cast a warm glow on the polished floors. She glanced down the corridor, noting the room numbers as they approached hers. “Well, this is my stop,” she said, stopping in front of her door, a hint of hesitation in her tone.

Drew lingered a few steps behind, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then? We’ve got that media session early, right?” He leaned casually against the wall, an easy smile lingering on his lips.

“Yeah, bright and early,” she replied, her voice teasing. “Don’t be late, or I might just let the cat out of the bag about your ‘philosopher’ skills.”

Drew chuckled, flashing her a playful wink. “I look forward to it. And hey, if I can survive this ride with you, I can handle anything.”

August sighed, shaking her head but unable to hide the smile that tugged at her lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible is my middle name,” he shot back, straightening up suddenly. “But we should do this more often.”

She turned to face him fully, crossing her arms. “Don’t push your luck, Drew.

“Night, August.” He grinned, turning to leave.

“Goodnight,” she replied, opening her door. As she stepped inside her room, she glanced back one last time, catching him turn down the hall.

He turned to wave, and she waved back, the moment surprisingly light and enjoyable. Closing the door, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

#wwe #wwe raw #wwe smackdown #wwe x reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #wwe x y/n #wwe x you #wwe x oc #drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintyre x oc #drew mcintyre imagine #drew mcintyre fanfiction

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eringobragh420 · 47 minutes ago

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🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian’s fiancée receives a head injury during a match resulting in amnesia. (Part 5/5) 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 🛑 Warnings: Oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v, dirty talk, cum 18+ 🖤 Notes: Spanish translations at the end of the story. 🖤 Taglist: In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 MASTERLIST

DAY FIVE — CHRISTMAS DAY

You stretched—the kind of stretch one takes after a satisfying evening followed by much needed restful sleep—smile slowly creeping across your lips. Still half-asleep, you rolled over, attracted to warmth and comfort, and you felt a rather large hand slide from where it had been resting on your belly to your side as you moved into the new position. Your head rested on a firm bicep, and you smelled deodorant and the aroma of Damian, and you remembered what he’d done for you the night before, triggering your need to again be as close as possible to him.

“You gonna sleep all day, sweetheart?” Damian softly asked. You nodded, eyes closed, and Damian’s smile widened. His thumb caressed near the bottom of your ribs. “But it’s Christmas.”

He meant well, you knew that, but as you’d fallen asleep on Christmas Eve, after Damian had made you cum with his fingers, you’d considered the holiday. It didn’t mean much to you, if anything. You weren’t looking forward to spending time with family and friends because you couldn’t remember any of them, you felt no excitement to open presents or watch Damian open his because you didn’t know if any of them would bear any meaning for you.

“Bah-humbug,” you rasped, pressing your face into Damian’s warm chest. His chuckle rumbled against you as his hand slowly slid from your side to your back. Now you most certainly did not want to get out of bed. Maybe you could convince him to use his fingers ag—

“Grumble, grumble, complain,” he growled, teasing you, and you smiled, nuzzling your forehead into a faded tattoo. “Come on.” He tenderly patted your back. “I think Santa came last night.”

“That makes two of us,” you mumbled.

One of your eyes popped open as Damian guffawed, untangling himself from you, rolling over, and he sat up, tossing his legs over the side of the bed. He’d donned a pair of red boxer briefs sprinkled with tiny Christmas trees on them before he’d fallen asleep last night, and you snickered as you watched him stand. The giggle died on your lips, though, when he stretched, every toned muscle rippling throughout his perfect body, tattoos dancing, and you thought again about asking, or at least implying, that the two of you stay in bed and make out, and oh, by the way, would you wanna—

“You were a very good girl this year, mi vida,” Damian said, pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts he’d hung over the back of a decorative chair the night before. He turned back to you and placed his fists on the bed beside you, the mattress sinking as he leaned closer to you. “I think you really wanna see what Santa brought you.”

Sighing, you tossed the covers aside and sat up yourself, realizing Damian wasn’t going to let you stay in bed any longer. Standing, you waited—watching closely—as Damian pulled his unruly hair into a high bun before he turned to you and extended his hand. You looked at his hand, imagining that middle finger pumping inside you and the thumb on your clit, and you had an inclination to just jump on his hand and see if his fingers landed inside you, but reason prevailed, and you were able to stop yourself just short of liftoff. Instead, you placed your tiny hand within his, his fingers wrapping around yours, and his smile was so sweet and happy and utterly contagious.

Damian led you downstairs to the living room, kissing the back of your hand before instructing you to take a seat on the plush couch. So many colorful and glittering gifts were under the tree, and you were relieved when Damian only grabbed a few—the rest of the gifts were for various family and friends. As nervous as you were to open the presents from Damian—what if the old you would have liked what he got you, but the new you didn’t?—you were even more nervous you might have to be present to distribute those gifts to people you didn’t know. Setting three boxes at your feet, he set the same amount at his, and you assumed the number had been agreed upon by the both of you before you’d gone shopping. Maybe you’d done it every year.

“Is there a certain order …?” you asked. He handed you the biggest box first, and instructed you to open yours, then he would open one of his.

Taking a deep breath, you gently ripped at the impressively wrapped gift, glancing anxiously at Damian, and he tilted his head, smiling. He laid a long arm across the back of the couch, his hand heavy, yet gentle, on your shoulder, and his touch was both comforting and … knowing? You suddenly felt confused, but alert, like you were so close to remembering something important, but you couldn’t find it in your scattered brain. Choosing to ignore it, you removed the paper, and opened the box to find a Louis Vuitton tote. Eyes widening, you pulled the bag from the box, inspected it a moment front and back, and then looked back at Damian.

“I love it,” you whispered, incredulous.

Damian exhaled, eyes closing for the briefest moment, but he quickly recovered, shining that winning smile. “Good,” he replied, squeezing your shoulder. “You told me which one you wanted, but not which color …”

“It’s perfect.”

Holding the bag to your chest like someone might steal it from you, you watched as Damian picked up one of his boxes, thankfully not asking you which one he should open first. He tore into the snowman wrapping paper like an ape, tossed the trash behind him, and the Nike logo on the box pretty much gave away what was inside. He pulled one shoe out, marveling at it, and gushed about how much he loved them and couldn’t believe you’d been able to locate them. You shrugged, having no answer, but his excitement was just as contagious as his smile, and you giggled as he fist pumped while putting the shoe back in the box.

Damian handed you the next gift—a pair of black heels from Jimmy Choo—which you also loved. Damian opened a rather fancy watch that he seemed overly excited about—like Randy from A Christmas Story when he got a Zeppelin—but you giggled at his childlike wonder. The last present he gave to you was much smaller than the rest, so you treated it more delicately than you had the others. This time, Damian opened his final gift as you opened yours, but he was paying far more attention to you and your reaction to what he’d gotten for you. The removal of the wrapping paper revealed a deep blue velvet box, and you suspected jewelry would be hidden within, and that gave you pause. You’d loved the other gifts, so you weren’t worried about loving this one just as much, but would you react the way Damian was hoping for? You lifted the lid, gasping at the gorgeous bracelet nestled amongst satin the same color as the box. You touched the single, tiny charm, smiling, and you weren’t sure what possessed you to do it, but you brought the golden bow and arrow—the tip of the arrow a sparkling diamond—to your lips.

“Can I put it on you?” Damian asked, disrupting your love affair with your new piece of jewelry. You sniffed, eyes becoming misty as you nodded and handed the box to him. He set aside some sort of combat weapon you’d gotten for him and clasped the beautiful bracelet around your wrist before kissing your pulse point.

“It’s … it’s really beautiful,” you stammered. You fingered the charm, watching the diamond sparkle.

You turned your hand this way and that, grinning as the light caught the bracelet at different angles. Your brows came together, wrist rotation slowing as you stared at the back of your left hand. Something was missing. Something important. “Aren’t we engaged?” you asked, looking at Damian.

His eyes lifted, wide with sudden worry. “Of course,” he said. Why would she suddenly be doubting they were engaged, he wondered, heart pounding. “You’ve got your dress, we have a venue and about three hundred people coming …”

“Where’s my engagement ring?” you interrupted. Damian’s mouth clamped shut, pillowy lips rubbing together. “I can’t remember you or our relationship, but I’ve learned enough to know you’d never propose without a ring, and even if you did, I’d have one by now … right?”

Damian smiled, nodding. “You’re right,” he said. “You have a ring. I’ll be right back.” He hopped over the back of the couch, and you giggled. You turned the bracelet over again to watch the little bow and arrow dangle and the tiny diamond catch the sun as it peeked through the curtains. When Damian returned, he was carrying a small, teal box, and anyone who had ever shopped for engagement rings knew the Tiffany’s teal. You gulped. “I didn’t want to bring it up so you wouldn’t feel obligated to wear it if you weren’t comfortable with it.”

He looked at you a moment, approaching you still seated on the couch, and your breath hitched as he descended to one knee. He opened the box, having never guessed in a million years he would get to present you with the engagement ring you’d adored so much a second time, and your eyes rounded at, not only the size of the diamond, but it was your favorite cut, your favorite metal, and your favorite person was offering it to you. Favorite person? Suddenly you couldn’t catch your breath. Something was there, right there in your fucking brain, and you almost had it.

“Put it on me,” you whispered, words laced with desperation.

Damian’s brows furrowed, but he did as he was told—removing the ring from its velvety home, taking your hand in his, and he slid the diamond effortlessly into place where it hugged your finger, almost as if it had missed you. You smiled, touching it, remembering Damian stuttering through a proposal on the beach in Puerto Rico.

Wait.

The fight you’d had on the way back to the hotel about how fast he’d been driving.

Your eyes closed.

The fight only led to him pulling over and fucking the complaining out of you on the side of the road.

You sucked in a breath.

“Your tattoo is stupid.”

“Your tattoo is stupider.”

“Mine’s actually the best.”

“Yeah, well, mine’s the prettiest.”

The wedding dress you’d chosen clung to your curves perfectly, the train sparkled, the veil tucked into your hair. Damian’s gonna love this … especially when he finds out I’m not wearing any panties.

Damian.

Your eyes shot open, and Damian was there, watching you curiously. Your fiancé. Damian Priest. You remembered when and where you met, you remembered your first date and your first fuck and your first fight and your first Christmas, and fuck, you remembered everything! All of it!

“Damian,” you whispered, grabbing at his hands, his arms, shoulders, until you came to the floor on your knees. Damian tried catching you, unsure of what was happening or how to react. You cupped his face. “Papi.”

Damian’s body twitched as he eyed you closely. His hands came up to your face next, your noses grazing. “Oh, my God,” he whispered, every bit on the verge of tears as you were. “Querida.” You nodded, because you knew what it meant, and you knew what it meant when he said it. His arms suddenly came tightly around your waist, nearly squeezing the life out of you, and you did the same to his neck. “Fuck, you know I can’t ever let you go now, right?” he asked, only half teasing.

You sniffed, a single tear streaking down your cheek, nodding. Memories were still playing one after another, your brain taking each one and filing it in its appropriate cabinet, which were mostly labeled never fucking forgot any of this ever again. “Sounds good to me,” you said, and then you felt him tuck his face into your neck, his hot breath ghosting along your skin, and your nipples were suddenly small pebbles, and your heart skipped a beat or two and—

Damian pushed you away with both hands on your face so his lips could claim yours. The kissing from the night before had been hot, but this kiss was a goddamn atomic bomb, because you remembered the love you had for this man, felt it to your core, and you were suddenly dizzy and just a little lightheaded. It was like falling in love with Damian Priest all over again, like being on a rollercoaster that was only corkscrews, like debuting to a thunderous pop on the main roster of the WWE.

Damian whispered your name, pausing the kiss only to declare, “I need you.” His hands slid teasingly from your cheeks to your neck, shoulders, arms, landing heavily on your hips. “If it’s not the right time—”

“It is,” you interrupted, lifting your shirt over your head, dropping it dramatically beside the two of you—Damian’s eyes followed the garment with an arched eyebrow before he slid his gaze to your bare breasts, tilting his head, inhaling deeply. He removed his own shirt, your eyes examining him much the same way he’d done you, and you gasped when he suddenly stood, towering over you a hell of a lot more than he normally did. You grinned, reaching for the waistband of his shorts, but he had other plans.

He grabbed one of your arms, hooking it around his neck, and he hoisted you gracefully off the floor and over his shoulder. He smacked your ass, the bottoms of your cheeks hanging out of the shorts you’d slept in, and you squealed, kicking your legs. “We are not having reunion sex on the floor in the living room,” he said, carrying you effortlessly up the stairs, even taking two at a time, as he made his way to the bedroom you shared. You hadn’t actually planned on fucking him on the floor—there was a comfortable couch nearby with cushions the width of a twin bed—but you let him manhandle you because it had been, what, five days since you’d been manhandled? The manual stimulation the night before hadn’t counted, not with how caring and slow and intentional Damian had been.

You were tossed on the bed, bouncing, snickering, and Damian stole several moments to watch you smile, to watch your tits jiggle, massaging a growing lump in his shorts. Your eyes became slits, focused on Damian’s big hand passing over his even bigger cock, witnessing it grow and strain, almost able to feel it stretching you and filling you and satisfying you like no man had ever done before. Dying to join in, you removed your shorts and panties, though you kept your legs mostly together even as you slipped a few fingers within your dampening folds, Damian only able to get a peek of the action. The fingers of Damian’s free hand grazed your knee, his thumb on the inside applying gentle pressure, and you spread your legs for him, biting your lip, cheeks heating up as he watched you touch yourself—one of his very favorite pastimes.

“Can I taste you?” he rumbled, thumb caressing your skin, hand slipping within his shorts and briefs, eyes briefly closing when he wrapped his fingers around his cock, giving it a few satisfying strokes. He wasn’t sure why he asked, especially since you’d always told him it didn’t matter what you were doing—if he wanted a snack, you would always be more than happy to oblige. But what if now wasn’t the time for the … normal sex? What if you weren’t ready, and the awkwardness from the night prior happened again? He didn’t want you to think he’d simply been waiting for you to remember who you were and who he was simply so he could fuck you stupid. Would you ever think that? And why the hell was he overthinking so much?

Your brows furrowed. “Of course,” you softly replied, sliding back on the mattress as Damian crawled forward. “And if I ever say no, take me back to the hospital because my brain is broken again.”

Damian chuckled, continuing to crawl up your body, pressing his full, perfect lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, but something felt different, off. Any other time, not only would he not have asked permission, his face would have been buried in your pussy before you even knew what was happening, not making a beeline for a makeout session.

Disconnecting your lips, you placed a hand on his cheek, and your eyes met. “Are you okay?” you whispered.

“Yeah, I just …” he trailed off, positive that any explanation he gave about his sudden apprehension would make no sense at all, or worse … give you the impression that he didn’t want to have sex at all.

You tilted his chin up, an action he’d done to you many times, and when his eyes met yours, you were punched in the gut by the turmoil—he was confused, hesitant, turned on, and utterly at the mercy of his own negative thoughts. Placing a hand on his warm, bare chest, over his heart, you found the organ beating so fast it was vibrating. Smiling softly, you pressed a tender kiss to Damian’s lips, but it did nothing to slow his heart rate, though you weren’t sure it would have under any other circumstances—you made his heart pound on the regular, he’d told you, and you remembered him telling you. Like you suddenly remembered everything your fiancé had done for you (and because of you—he still had a meeting with WWE about pushing the guy at the airport) up until this point. He’d cared for you, he’d been so patient and understanding, all the while no doubt worrying about whether or not you’d ever remember him. You couldn’t imagine the stress he must have been under. How much had he actually slept in the past five days?

Your smile grew as you kissed his cheeks, his eyes, forehead, nose, and you felt him relax. “I know what you need,” you whispered. You pressed on his chest, and after a moment, he understood and rolled onto his back. “You can taste me this way,” you said, hushed, sliding along the sheets and blankets until your head was facing his feet. “Because I think it’s only fair I get a taste of my own.” He wouldn’t have allowed you to do what you really wanted to do, which was to have him lay back and enjoy a long, slow, wet blowjob, and then you would swallow what would have to be a huge load—unless he’d found the time and desire to jerk off in the last five days. Maybe he did last night, after he made me cum and after I fell asleep?—which would be followed by a Christmas morning nap. Well, you supposed he might have agreed to you swallowing, as well as the nap, but certainly not the part where he was the only one receiving pleasure. Jesus, why were you overthinking this?

“You gonna sit on my face or not?” Damian wanted to know, instantly snapping you from your reverie. Giggling and blushing—blushing because, even though you’d been in this position hundreds of times, you still felt just a twinge of embarrassment, of insecurity, every time—you straddled your fiancé’s face, eyes fluttering as he kissed your thighs, the stubble from his beard causing your entire body to quake. And then his tongue was exactly where it belonged: licking along your bare folds before slipping between them, flattening, and you threw your head back as he did things to your pussy no one else had ever been able to do. He smacked your ass, not nearly as hard as he was known to, but you smirked and squeaked just the same, using one hand to untie his shorts, tug them loose and down, and you pulled his thick cock free from the Christmas tree briefs. You spit on the head, and Damian grunted, sucking and nibbling on your clit like it was his final meal as you spread your saliva along his shaft with a few quick strokes before engulfing the head in your hot mouth.

Damian kept one hand on the back of your head, merely encouraging, until you intentionally gagged yourself, forcing his dick as far down your throat as you could, coughing, spluttering, barely able to come up for air before he pushed your face back down again. As you fought for sweet oxygen, Damian’s other hand squeezed your ass, shoving his tongue into your gushing, pulsing hole. Your face hot, tears streaking your cheeks, your fiancé’s cock lodged in your neck, your hips still rolled, pressing down, riding Damian’s face much the same way he was doing yours.

Suddenly he lifted your hips with one hand, the other grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking you off his dick. Strings of spit and precum and drool bridged your lips to Damian’s rigid cock, and you worked on disconnecting the mess and wiping at your face as he maneuvered you off him. “Ain’t no way I’m not cummin’ in that pussy,” he growled.

Before he could manhandle you once again into whatever position he desired, you spun around and straddled his hips, flattening your palms on his chest. He was a bit shocked, and rightly so, as up until this point, he’d been the dominant one in the relationship. And this wasn’t you being necessarily dominant—you were simply being proactive in making sure Damian did as little work as possible. He held onto your wrists as you raised your hips, rocking your clit along his head before slowly descending, allowing yourself only seconds to adjust to his size. Maybe a perk from all this would be your pussy having had an opportunity to tighten up without its daily pounding from a very proportionate six foot five Puerto Rican man.

“Fuck,” Damian shouted, and you grinned, though you’d never know if your hypothesis had been correct or if he’d just really missed being inside you.

”Little gatita missed her Papi,” you purred, enunciating the Spanish words, biting your lip, eyes fluttering as you swiveled your hips to get every last bit of him inside you.

Damian pressed his head into the pillow, hips thrusting, lifting you as if you weighed nothing, somehow going deeper, kissing your cervix, and your nails dug into his pecs. “Come on, querida,” he said, and you knew he would never agree or admit to it, but it sure sounded a hell of a lot like begging. “Ride Papi.”

Transferring most of your weight to your hands on his chest, your hips bounced, jaw dropped, and you did exactly as you’d been instructed. Sweat was beading around your hairline at the back of your neck, your lungs were tight from your labored breathing, but you could feel that familiar, delicious ache deep in your cunt. You watched Damian with a small grin, biting your lip, as his blown pupils were laser focused on your pussy and the glistening trail it left behind every time you lifted your hips. His brows were knitted together, lips pursed, and you actually had to fight the laughter bubbling in your throat at how utterly determined he was not to cum. He wanted to impress you with his stamina and willpower, you knew that much, and you suspected he was probably savoring the moment, making it last as long as possible. Maybe next time, you thought. You’ve waited long enough.

“You gonna gimme me that nut, Papi?” you panted.

His eyes rose to yours, and you were no longer in control of the fucking, your entire body jolting with each pump of Damian’s cock. “That what you want?” he grunted.

“Fuck yeah,” you breathed, eyes closing, that ache getting stronger, spreading further. “It’s been too long. I need your cum inside me.”

“Been too long,” he mocked breathlessly. “You’re gonna be so fuckin’ full …”

“Give it to me, Papi,” you begged, cunt squeezing Damian’s pulsing cock as you gushed all over it. “I want all of it.”

Your fiancé made good on his promise—unloading so much inside your pussy that it started leaking out before he’d even pulled out. Hand on the back of your head, he pulled you down for a kiss, massaging his lips along yours in that delightful Damian way. “I love you so much,” he mumbled against your mouth.

“I love you more,” you grinned, pulling away enough so you could look at each other comfortably. “It should take, what, five minutes for you to be ready for round two?”

“Five minutes,” Damian chuckled, shaking his head, rolling his eyes.

“Well, if it helps at all, I’m gonna go try on my heels.” You carefully raised yourself off Damian, his half-hard cock smacking his abdomen lewdly once your pussy released it, and you crawled out of bed.

“Just naked? You’re just gonna try the heels on naked?” Damian asked after you.

“Kind of,” you replied, glancing at him over your bare shoulder. “I’ll be wearing your cum.”

Damian’s eyes darkened. “It’s like that?”

You winked, continuing out of the bedroom, a millisecond passing before you heard Damian’s heavy footsteps following quickly behind.

** mi vida - my life ** Papi - daddy ** querida - beloved/term of endearment ** gatita - kitten

#wwe #damian priest #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #damian priest x reader #smut #damian priest smut #damian priest imagine #damian priest fanfic

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bullet-prooflove · 4 hours ago

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A Good Day: Sean Archer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @emilyjr @toasted-stiletto @icefrye19 @to-grow-in-and-to-love

Companion piece to:

Make A Wish - Sean is triggered on his birthday when he sees a familiar face in the paper.

When Sean woke up this morning he didn’t anticipate spending the night in the cells of the 21st precinct or that he’d be facing another stint in prison for punching the guy who’d fucked up his life.

It had been a good day he had thought, one of the best because he was waking up alongside you underneath the fleece blanket you’d brought him because the Chicago winters still kill him even after all these years. He’s been doing better since the relapse on his birthday, seeing a counsellor, talking to his sponsor. He getting well again, coming to terms with his shit.

It’s when he gets to work that everything changes. He’s introduced to the new youth coordinator Reg Richards and his whole world just falls apart because that man whose hand he’s shaking, he fucked Sean when he was just fourteen years old, he took his virginity, his dignity, he made him the screw up he is today.

He loses it after that. He doesn’t remember hitting Reg, only the hideous crunch erupting through the room as he breaks the bastard’s nose, the sound of his own voice bellowing as he calls him damn curse word under the sun.

He loses track of time after that because he dissociates. He withdraws back into himself, tucking himself into the furthest corner of his cell, his head resting on his knees because he keeps going back there to that night, the one where everything changed.

When Sergeant Platt asks if there’s anyone he wants to call he shakes his head vehemently because he already knows how disappointed his dad’s going to be and honestly this whole thing has proven you are much better off without him.

It's a couple of hours later that the door to his cell opens and he’s escorted upstairs to an empty interview room and left to sweat for a couple of minutes. He doesn’t expect Antonio Dawson to walk in, for him to sit down across the table from him. He knows the detective in passing through your fire station family. They’ve talked boxing a couple of times during the cookouts that Hermann occasionally hosts.

“I know what he did to you.” Antonio says finally into the silence between the two of them. “Platt knows your girl, she came in, told me what this was all about.”

Sean doesn’t speak, he can’t, it’s like the words lodge in his throat like lego bricks as his gaze flicker up to meet Antonio’s.

“Do you think he’s still doing it?” Antonio asks him and Sean flicks back to that split second during his arrest, Reg’s eyes lingering on another child as he sat on the steps of the rehab centre, clutching a bloody tissue to his nose.

“Yea.” He says, his voice coming out in a rasp.

“Alright.” Antonio says as he takes a piece of paper out of the back pocket out of his jeans and sets it down in front of Sean. It’s a CI agreement, one that explains the terms and the conditions of becoming a confidential informant. “If you wanna stay out of jail, I need you to sign this.”

“Why?” Sean asks his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and Antonio leans forward, his hands clasped together as he meets Sean’s gaze.

“Because you Sean, you’re going to help me catch him.”

Love Sean? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#sean archer #sean archer x reader #one chicago #chicago med

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immobulusmalfoy · 3 days ago

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Until We Drink // Fred Weasley x F!Reader

Summary: Friends with benefits with Fred turn into some feelings. Based on "Until We Drink" by Savannah Sgro. Warnings: Drunk sex and FWB, but no description of the act. A/N: Apparently I'm on a Fred kick, so enjoy this little song fic.

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In the kitchen doing shots around the sink // sloppy dancing turns to kissing in your sheets

“Freddie!” you shouted, nearly bowling over the tall, gangly ginger. “Congratulations, lovey!”

“Why thank you, darling.” Fred grinned, having caught you in his arms from your dangerous assault. “Been drinking already, have we? Hope you saved some firewhiskey for me.”

“You’ll have to just go and see, Freddie.” You smiled lazily up at the boy and he kept you wrapped tightly in his arms. Gryffindor had won the match against Ravenclaw earlier, meriting a celebration. But when you drank firewhiskey, you became a tipsy, clumsy mess and Fred didn’t fancy watching you fall over on his watch.

You and the twins had been friends for years. Ever since Fred knocked you down with his cart in King’s Cross your second year, you’d been best friends (once he offered to buy you a cauldron cake, of course). Fred wasn’t about to keep being responsible for your falls, unless you were falling for him.

“Hey sweetheart, you wanna sit for a bit?” Fred asked. “You’re gonna topple over in those heels. I’m gonna set you down and go grab us some drinks.”

Fred gently settled you down on a couch and left to grab a drink. But by the time he came back, he could tell you were getting properly sloshed from the glassiness of your eyes and the way your face looked. Fred wasn’t too far behind, having had at least three cups of butterbeer throughout the night and nursing the fourth. Or fifth? He’d lost count.

Fred flopped down beside you and handed you a cup of butterbeer (though he was sure it had to be at least a little bit spiked) while he downed the rest of his own cup of firewhiskey. You’d already found your way into Fred’s side and now lay sort of sprawled on the side of his body and over his chest. He couldn’t say he minded, though.

“You’re so comfortable.” You mumbled into Fred’s chest. Fred was thankful you were both wasted enough not to notice how red his cheeks grew.

Fred lost count of how much alcohol the both of you had drank and before he knew it, you were kissing in the halls of the boys dormitory and his hands were all over you. Fred couldn’t recall how you’d gotten into this situation, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Fuck me, Freddie.” you murmured into his mouth, and he went with it, alcohol still coursing in his system. If he were sober, he wouldn’t have gone so willingly, but you were sighing into his mouth and kissing his neck and running your fingertips in places you normally didn’t. Fred’s self control was gone.

“Yeah alright,” he found himself saying as he pulled you into his dorm room and the two of you became tangled in the sheets.

‘Cause we’re friends, we’re just friends // until we drink

You woke up in Fred’s bed, not an unusual occurrence. You snuggled deeper into his side before making the horrifying discovery that neither of you were wearing pants or tops or anything—well, Fred had a sock that you could feel against your bare feet.

“Oh Godric, what have we done?!” you gasped, and promptly fell on the floor after your abrupt scooting away. Fred groaned and finally opened his eyes.

“Y/N?” He asked sleepily. “Where’d you go?”

“Fred, where are your clothes? Where are my clothes while we’re at it?” You scrambled to grab a blanket to cover up. Fred blinked down at you from the bed and then realized what had happened.

“Oh. Um.” He fumbled and lifted the sheets to look down at his unclothed lower half. “I think we had sex?”

“No shit, Weasley. But why?” You deadpanned.

“Come back to bed so we can talk about this.” Fred coaxed you, holding up his own blanket to beckon you closer. He involuntarily gave you a look at his lower half and you averted your eyes while you considered his offer.

You knew it was a bad idea, but you couldn’t resist him. There was no harm in talking it over. After all, the damage had already been done. So you slid into the bed next to him, clutching the sheets to cover yourself.

“Not like I haven’t seen it all already.” Fred snorted. You smacked him in the arm and he cried out an “ow,” rubbing the reddened area. “Alright, so we did a thing.”

“We did more than a thing,” you hissed. “We had sex. You and me.” You gestured between the two of you, “Big problem. Did we even use protection?”

“Considering I woke up with a condom stuck to me and my wand in the bed, stabbing me in the leg, I think so. But what’s the big deal? We’re friends, we had sex one time, and we’re totally comfortable with each other normally. We can just go back to normal, unless you can’t.” Fred shrugged.

“You’re not weirded out by this?” You asked warily, watching his face for his tells. He wasn’t giving anything away.

“No. As far as I’m concerned, we had a really good night. If you want to forget it, we can. Orrrr—” Fred wiggled his eyebrows, “we can make it a more than one time kinda deal and get each other off now and again.”

You looked at him, baffled. Caught you off guard so quickly that you almost dropped the sheet. Almost.

“And you don’t think that would result in one or another of us catching feelings?”

“Nope. Just two mates.” Fred answered in that casual way of his that frustrated you. “We’ve been friends forever, so I feel like this was bound to happen at some point. Why not add some benefits to our friendship and have some fun?”

And so you did.

Nobody would know // you’ve seen me without clothes

Nobody knew what happened between us and you still weren’t sure how. You could’ve sworn George knew, but Fred seemed to be keeping everything quiet and it made you want to scream.

You didn’t sleep together often. But it did happen. You got too drunk one night after the Quidditch cup finals where you won and woke up in his bed again, cuddled into his side wearing his Quidditch jersey. You got a good test score and shagged in a broom cupboard somewhere on the third floor. Over and over again, you’d just casually end up having sex with your best friend and it was wearing down on you.

And it wasn’t that you didn’t like the sex. Godric, it was the best you’d ever had, not that you had much to compare it to. He always took care of you and never pressured you to do anything you didn’t want to, but you found it hard to ever say no to him, saying yes again and again as you got each other off.

The longer it went on, the more you started looking at Fred in a way that wasn’t friendship and it scared you.

We’re just friends until it’s late and all your roommates are asleep // All of a sudden got your hands all over me

You started reading into all of Fred’s actions. He was already super touchy and had been forever, or at least as long as you could remember. But now you watched everything. He would sling his arm around you in class, watch you during meals and other times when you’d catch him looking, and he made every excuse to brush your hands together. Had he always done that?

The thing is, he also flirted with other girls. He flirted with Angelina and Katie and a few other girls from your year who weren’t taken. He met them before or after class and joked with them at parties and meals. And while you were always at his side, you just weren’t sure if he was acting differently since you’d started this friends with benefits thing or if you were just imagining things. Could he be catching feelings? Were you catching feelings?

The questions plagued your mind each and every time you ended up in his bed, whether you both were drunk or not.

We never talk about what’s going on // we’re casual, we’re nothing // we’re the furthest thing from loving

It wouldn’t be so bad if you could talk about it, but you didn’t really know how to bring it up without bringing attention to the fact that you were confusing yourself. It was growing increasingly clear the longer this went on that your feelings for Fred were absolutely nowhere near platonic anymore. They were bordering on love and that scared you. It scared you so much.

And Fred? He was still so nonchalant about it all. How could you talk about it? He was still your best friend, but this wasn’t something you could just ask him about. So you buried it.

We always act like it’s nothing // like we’re just having fun

As the trysts went on, your feelings started hurting. Because while you may have Fred at night, the Yule Ball was approaching in a week and Fred hadn’t asked you. He’d asked Angelina right in front of you. Threw a paper in her face and mimed dancing with you sitting right next to him. And of course she’d said yes. Why wouldn’t she? Fred was amazing and everyone knew it. Especially you.

That was the last straw. You’d stood up and exited the hall as soon as you felt it wouldn’t tie you back to Fred’s very public display and promptly ran as far away as you could to have a good cry.

How could you sit here and be upset when you and Fred had never decided if you were going to be exclusive or how long this would last? You didn’t feel you had any right to be upset with him because it wasn’t his fault you’d fallen in love with him.

And there it was, the truth about your feelings. You were in love with your best friend and he didn’t know. At this point, he couldn’t know.

George was very confused when Fred asked Angelina, knowing that you and Fred were fooling around. How could he not know? He knew you and Fred thought you were

sneaky and that no one knew, but it was so obvious. It was even more obvious to George that you and his brother were in love with each other, but you both were clearly too stupid to realize it or tell the other one. So George asked you to the ball.

I don’t care // I do though // I want more // Maybe I don’t

“So, when are you going to tell him?” George asked as you waltzed on the Yule Ball’s dance floor. The question froze you in place and you looked up at him in shock. “You think I didn’t know what you and Fred have been up to? We share the same dorm, sweetheart.”

“I thought no one knew.” you answered slowly, daring a glance over at Fred and Angelina as they twirled around the other side of the hall. You swore you were imagining it, but you felt like Fred looked angry. You always used to know how he was feeling; you could read it in his eyes. But now things were different.

“I don’t think anyone else knows, but I know you and Fred better than anyone. I can tell this is killing both of you, you more than him.” George said, nodding over towards Fred who had finally stepped off the floor and was getting a glass of lemonade. “You should tell him before you both get hurt.”

“I’ll think about it.” Your voice was a whisper as you answered, your thoughts spiraling.

So, you took your leave. You knew where the twins had a stash of firewhisky and you took the opportunity to liberate a bottle from under their bed to have while you contemplated what George had said.

You told yourself you’d only drink one glass, but one turned to two and two turned to three. And then Fred was waltzing into the room, one thing led to another, and you both ended up tangled in the sheets once again. It was sloppy and disorganized and left you feeling even worse when you’d finished, so you left once he fell asleep, tiptoeing back to your dorm where Angelina was asleep in her own bed.

Then the tears started and they didn’t stop until you’d cried yourself to sleep.

It doesn’t make sense // ‘cause we’re just friends // until we drink

For two weeks, you’d managed to avoid Fred’s wandering hands and kisses. You’d avoided ending up in his bed. And you were worse off for it.

Fred didn’t understand what was going on. He knew what he had been feeling the whole time. All he knew except for that was you’d both been having a good time, and the night of the Yule Ball changed everything. No longer were you sitting next to him at meals or while studying. You’d requested a seat change in the classes you shared together, and Fred was distraught. So he turned to the one person who knew him best.

George groaned once Fred finally ‘fessed up about what you and him had been doing for the past few months.

“You’re a bloody idiot, Fred.” he snapped. “She’s in love with you and you keep mucking it all up with your flirting with other girls, especially Angelina, and not treating her as a person. I mean, honestly, when did you become so thick? You both were friends, best friends, before you slept together and now you’re both stupid. She’s in love with you.”

Fred blinked at his brother as thought about what had just been said. And it all made sense. But you weren’t just in love with him. He was also in love with you and he had to do something about it.

We’re not together, but we’re not not together // I kinda like it, but I can’t do this forever

Fred searched for you everywhere. You weren’t in any of your usual spots and it was starting to worry him, so he searched for Harry next.

“Harry, mate, I need to look at the map for a second.” Fred begged, hoping the younger Gryffindor wouldn’t refuse him, and he didn’t. He quickly unfolded it, unlocked it, and found your name in the kitchens of all places. “Thanks, mate!” he shouted as he threw the paper back at Harry.

It didn’t take long to get to the kitchens and even less time to tickle the pear to get inside where he found you clad in a batter-splattered apron, baking something with a few of the house elves. Dobby sat at the counter next to you, babbling about something or another, but he was the one who saw Fred first and tugged on your sleeve to get your attention.

You turned around, eyes wide as you took in Fred’s disheveled appearance.

“Fred? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Fred bit out finally after a moment of awkward silence while he searched for what to say.

“We’ll finish this, miss.” one of the other house elves squeaked as they took your bowl and mixing spoon from you. It only took a snap of their fingers for the batter to fly into the muffin tins you’d been greasing just a few minutes before, and you sighed watching it. Your apron was removed quickly before you stepped out into the hall with Fred.

“What do we need to talk about?” you asked, voice quiet as you looked down towards your feet and twisted the end of your skirt between your fingers.

“Would you look at me first?” Fred asked, frustrated that you couldn’t even seem to look at him and he was trying to bare his heart to you.

And then you looked up, your eyes glossy, and you looked so beautiful that Fred forgot what he meant to say. He ended up grabbing you by the waist and kissing you, pressing you up against the wall of the hall. You squeaked in surprise, but melted into the kiss anyway. Until you thought about it and pushed him away.

“Stop that!”

“I’m sorry,” Fred started, “I actually had something to say.”

“Then spit it out.” you snapped, fingers brushing over your tingling lips.

“I—I,” he trailed off, running his hands through his hair and pacing right in front of you. It was stressing you out.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

You stared at him, blinking rapidly, trying to figure out if Fred had just said what you thought he did.

“And not just because we’ve slept together. I’ve loved you for years, really, and thought this was the only way I’d get to have even a part of you. It’s been killing me these last few weeks when we haven’t spent any time together, whether in bed or even just studying. I miss you and I love you and I don’t want to lose you because of my mistakes. George reckons you feel the same and I hope you do. I’m a right tosser and—”

You cut him off with a kiss, effectively shutting Fred up. He never stopped talking anyway, and it was one of the many reasons you loved him.

“I love you too,” you whispered once you’d let him go. Fred chased your lips with his own, kissing you again and again.

“Can I ask you to be my girlfriend then?” he asked between kisses. You giggled, giddy with the fact that you weren’t losing your best friend. Not even close. He was becoming yours in more than one way.

“Sure, but you’re taking me to Hogsmeade on an actual date first.”

“Done. I’ll even buy you anything you want from Honeydukes for putting up with my stupidity for this long. I love you.”

You laughed, letting him kiss you over and over again, happily trading kisses of your own with your own sentiments.

And when you walked back into the common room, George whispered “Thank Godric,” because finally you’d both figured out your issues and things could go back to normal. Except now, George figured he might be getting even less sleep.

We’re casual // we’re nothing // we’re the furthest thing from loving ‘til we drink

#fred weasley x reader #Fred Weasley x f!reader #fred weasley #immobulusmalfoy

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chaotic-orphan · 1 day ago

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Whumpuary No.7

Unfair fight // Insomnia // “no one is coming”

This was a long one, hoi boi🫡 but she’s done…

“Hero…” Second in command said softly. Hero didn’t reply. She just kept walking after their team across the rocky terrain to the shelter that Navigator spotted a few kilometres back. “Hero.”

“What?” Hero asked. There was nothing sharp about the question. She didn’t snap. She didn’t sigh or demand an answer. It was empty. A sound that carried no meaning behind it. She was tired. She was beyond tired. She just wanted… she just…

“We’ll get them back.” Second told her. Hero didn’t reply. She just kept going. That’s all she could do. Keep walking. Keep breathing. Keep going until they somehow managed to rescue Vigilante from Supervillain.

Nobody that Supervillain took had ever been seen again, nevermind… nevermind— she buried that thought under a hatch in her mind and padlocked it down. Getting emotional wouldn’t get Vigilante back after all… no… she just put one foot in front of the other. It was easy. It was quiet. It was…

She was…

Leader, Navigator and Medic had dropped their packs and started setting up a camp, rolling out their bedding on the smooth rock. Rogue and Youngest were already gone, to fetch some wood for a fire no doubt when Hero and Second arrived.

Hero disengaged from the group and went to the cliff edge outside the shelter and settled her back against the rock of the cave. She heard the usual routine happening behind her, without her.

Then he appeared like an apparition in front of her. Translucent but full formed, a shadow of Villain with his self-satisfied smirk and gleaming eyes. Hero didn’t say anything as he approached her.

“Hello darling. You’re looking worn, drained.” Hero looked through him, literally, as he crouched down and pressed a phantom hand to Hero’s cheek. She wished she couldn’t feel it. She knew he was able to not let her feel it, but he was a sadistic fucker. “My my, have you been sleeping, pet? Your bags have bags,” he noted, pulling down her eyelid.

Hero batted his hand away, but her hand went straight through his projection and she huffed out a breath and looked away as Villain laughed.

“You know damn well why I’m not sleeping.”

Villain released her and sat in front of her instead. He tilted his handsome head to the side. “Is it Vigilante, hmm? The guilt of knowing you could have saved them but didn’t.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh shush. You know how much I enjoy our little chats, Hero,” he said, waving her insult away. “Besides,” his eyes sharpened. “We both know what else I could spend my time doing if you don’t feel like talk—“”

Hero lurched forward a hand out that went through Villain’s visage. “No! No! I— I wanna talk.”

Villain grabbed Hero’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. His eyes danced with a gleeful satisfaction. “So desperate, Hero. So needy. But don’t worry. I’ll stay with you. We can talk all night long.”

Hero wanted to punch him. She wanted to cry and scream and wrap her hands around his throat because she didn’t know how much longer she could take this. The taunting, the teasing, every night, once the sun set, Villain would appear to her and force her to chat with him through the night so she couldn’t sleep. The first few days it was fine. She could catch an hour before and after Villain appeared, and she was fine. But they were travelling for two weeks now, and Hero had had to start sleeping by day to the annoyance of their teammates.

The worst part was she couldn’t even tell them about Villain, or Villain promised he’d make Vigilante pay and let Hero see all of the torture for herself.

How many times had she debated telling her team? How many times has she wanted to scream about it to somebody, anybody, but Villain somehow sensed that too after the fourth day.

He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back after she challenged him. “Maybe Vigilante’s life isn’t enough of a threat, hmm? You know… Youngest in your team seems quite—”

“No!” Hero screamed, struggling against a ghost.

Villain leaned down, craning Hero’s neck all the way back but she didn’t drop eye contact with him as he hissed: “then behave.”

Dinner came and went. Hero denied any food. She felt too sick to eat. Almost woozy from the insomnia, and when she did eat it was like she was pumped of adrenaline that only led her to crashing later.

“Hero… you should really eat. You’ll turn into skin and bones if you don’t,” Villain chided with a smile.

When it came time to sleep, Hero said she’d take first watch. Leader came out and stood above her. “Hero, no.”

“Oooh,” Villain cooed from behind Hero, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. “Your boss is so forceful Hero. But tell him you insist.”

Hero shivered as the phantom hand settled on the nape of her neck. “I- I insist,” she said quietly.

Medic came out after Leader.

“Hero, get inside. We need to cover a lot of ground tomorrow and we can’t have you dozing off when the sun comes up again! We’re losing time to save Vigilante.”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Hero cried, hands flying to her hair and pulling. “I— I want to save Vigilante more than anything.”

“She’s right you know,” Villain purred, standing behind Medic. He started whispering in Medic’s ear, loud enough for Hero to hear. “She wants to save poor Vigilante more than her circadian rhythms demand.”

“Please!” Hero cried. “I— I- I need to stay awake.”

Villain’s violet eyes flashed at Hero over Medic’s shoulder. “That’s right. Good girl. You tell them.”

Hero swallowed hard. Leader frowned and looked over his shoulder to where Hero stared, almost as if in a trance. Medic found his gaze, erudite eyes coloured with concern.

Leader looked back at Hero.

“Alright.” Leader said. Hero relaxed, breathing out a sigh of relief that seemed to be the only thing holding her up. She swayed as the world spun around her and would have fallen if not for Leader catching her halfway to the ground.

“Please,” Hero said with a breath, not entirely sure she didn’t blackout for a second. “Please, trust me,” she pleaded.

Leader nodded and sat her back against the rock. “I trust you, Hero. I know losing Vigilante has been hard on you, but there’s some leftover food and you will eat some of it if you won’t sleep, do you understand?”

“I—” Hero protested. Leader spoke over her.

“Or I’ll have Rogue take watch and ask Medic to force—”

“Okay! Okay!” Hero rushed out, panic seizing her heart. Leader smiled and tucked her hair out of her face.

“Good. I’ll grab you a plate. And you will eat it all, Hero.”

Hero nodded stiffly. “Okay.”

The two disappeared back into the cave. Hero could hear Medic berating Leader as they retreated but she didn’t really care about what they said anyways. Villain walked back in front of her and plopped himself down in front of her. His eyes alight with a dangerous amusement.

“You’re so good at taking orders, Hero.” Villain purred. “So pliant and malleable like this,” he said. He propped his elbow on his knee and his head in his hand. “Oh, if only I thought of taking Vigilante sooner. Maybe the heroes wouldn’t have given us as much trouble when you’re distraught and sleep deprived.”

Hero didn’t answer. A hot tear dripped from her eye onto her cheek. Maybe that was answer enough. She was going mad, she knew. Villain was driving her mad, making her seem crazy, torturing her for his own cruel enjoyment.

“Oh Darling,” Villain cooed as Hero started to cry silently, her shoulders shaking up and down and letting out silent sobs that sounded only like gasps of breath. He moved towards her and pulled Hero into his arms, his legs on the outside of hers as he pushed her head into his shoulder. She didn’t move. “Darling, shush. Crying will waste so much of your energy.”

Hero continued to cry. “Oh you poor sweet angel. There, there. I know it’s hard,” he said, patting Hero’s back. “I know, pet. But you’re just so stubborn, hmm? This can all be over if you like.”

Hero stiffened in Villain’s arms. “W-what?” She asked wetly, mucus clogging her words.

Villain pulled Hero back and smiled down a kind smile at her, but his horrible eyes betrayed him. “Darling, have you had enough?”

Hero nodded. Villain softened. “Words, doll.”

“Y-yes,” Hero sniffed. Then she jumped a little and shook her head. “But— but I don’t! I don’t want you to hurt Vigilante, please!”

Villain crushed her into his chest again. “Oh I know you don’t. I know you’d do anything for them, wouldn’t you?”

Hero nodded against Villain’s chest. “Words,” he said.

“Yes.”

“I know, darling. So how about we make a deal?”

Hero pulled back a little and stared into the monsters violet eyes. “A- a deal?”

It was a bad idea. Even in her state she knew it was a bad idea, but what else could she do?

“Yes,” Villain said, phantom fingers wiping away Hero’s tears. “A deal. A trade. You for Vigilante.”

All warmth drained from Hero’s body. She didn’t recoil or so much as flinch, she just stared at Villain who sat drinking in every minuscule muscle twitch across her face.

“What?”

“I asked Supervillain already. He said he was fine with the trade, and would put you under my care just like Vigilante is. But I wouldn’t torture you, sweet thing. We would chat, and be like this,” he said, as he tucked a piece of Hero’s hair behind her ear. “Together. In person. You won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll release Vigilante and you won’t have that guilt plaguing your mind either.”

Hero’s mouth went incredibly dry, like she was inhaling glass. “Will— will you l-let me… will—” Hero fretted, “I- I need to sleep.”

“As soon as you’re in my arms, darling, my real arms I’ll let you sleep, hmm? Would you like that?”

Hero nodded. Her cries turned into a sudden sob she couldn’t catch. “Pl-please… please. I- I would. Ple—”

“Shush, shush, shush. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll do the rest.”

This time, Hero recoiled. “N.. no. You can’t— my team is… my team is here and—”

“Okay,” Villain mused. “Then pick a spot you know, where you can slip away and I’ll come pick you up.”

“And let Vigilante go?” Hero asked, hope colouring every word. Villain shook his head. Hero deflated.

“Once I have you we can talk about Vigilante’s release. I don’t want any nasty surprises in case you try to ambush me with your team.”

God, Hero didn’t even think of that… she was drained. Wholly and completely, her body on autopilot and her mind switched off.

“Okay…” Hero murmured. “Okay… I can meet you by the ruins to the old church in the black valley.”

Villain nodded. “I think I know that area. Okay. I’ll be waiting.”

Hero stiffened. “I- I won’t be able to go until they’re asleep.”

Villain chuckled. A warm, hearty sound. “I know, sweet thing. It will just take me some time to get there so I’ll trust you and leave you to find your way.”

Hero sat out of Villain’s embrace, pulling her sleeve over her hand and wiping her cheeks. “O-okay.”

When Hero arrived at the old church a car was waiting for her. A silhouette of a figure she knew too well was waiting, perched against the passenger side door. Hero froze in place.

Oh god.

What was she doing?

This man had… he had tortured her psychologically over the last two weeks, playing dirty, fighting unfairly, depriving her of sleep just so he could pull something as horrid as this… something she would never have agreed to if she was of sound mind.

And… oh god. She hadn’t gotten used to the cold feel of his fingers and hands on her, everytime he touched her it was like a zap of electricity, or an icy shock to her system that made her gasp but seeing Villain in person now…

He looked very much real.

Strong too. Stronger than he appeared when he projected himself to her mind and even then he could overpower her.

“You know,” his velvet voice called over the short distance between them. It sounded smoother in person, like melted chocolate in her ears. Warm and soothing. Not the voice of a villain. “In your state, I could always catch you if you tried to run.”

Hero couldn’t move. Her body wouldn’t let her step closer. A cold hand settled on the small of her back and pushed her forward. “There you go, that’s a good girl. Do you still have your bow?”

Hero swallowed. Nodded. “Words, darling,” he purred. Hero trembled.

“Y-yes.”

She was so close now. She could make out some of the features on his face, his long hooked nose, his deep set eyes and his dark hair that fell a little over his eyes she could feel more than see were focused only on her.

“Good. I will need to take that off you for now, but if you behave I will give it back so you can train. Keep your skills up. Would you like that?”

Hero didn’t answer.

Five steps.

Four steps.

Three steps.

Two.

Her heart screamed at her to run, to flee, pumping adrenaline through her body to get her to escape.

But it was too late. Villain put his hand on her cheek. It was warm. Hero couldn’t suppress the flinch.

“Oh you are just an angel, aren’t you?” He whispered. Hero didn’t answer. His eyes went to the road Hero came from. She had the good sense to go around the church so he wouldn’t know which direction her team was. That wasn’t part of the deal. “And any teammates follow you?”

Hero began to shake her head, but stopped, looked at him. Words. “N-no… it’s just me… no— no one else is coming.”

Villain’s smile cut into his face, exposing his white teeth. “Excellent, Hero.”

He took her quiver and bow from her shoulders and opened the door for her to the passenger seat. Hero climbed in. Villain shut the door and walked to the boot, throwing her weapons into the trunk before he climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door.

He pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Hero bristled. “I… I won’t be any trouble, I swear,” she pleaded. “Please, I just… I just want to sleep.”

Villain smiled sympathetically at her. “I know, Hero. I just need to make sure you don’t get any ideas of escape while we drive back to base. Surely you understand?”

Hero’s bottom lip trembled. She bit it to stop from crying and nodded. Her eyelids threatened to drown her if she didn’t close her eyes soon. “Good girl. I’ll just cuff one hand, okay?”

Hero nodded again. Once she was secured and he was sure she couldn’t go anywhere, he nodded and started the engine. When they pulled off, out of the ruins and onto the main road he said: “okay, little Hero. You’ve been so good for me. And good behaviour gets rewarded.”

Hero’s eyes widened. “I can sleep now?”

“Yes darling,” Villain said with a smile in his voice. Hero settled back into her seat, resting her head against the soft, leather headrest.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Villain smiled into the darkness. “My pleasure.”

Hero was asleep before she heard the words, for the first time in two weeks, her mind, blissfully, switched off.

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