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babygorewhore · 5 months ago

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I wanna make you mine

Spencer Reid x fem!Hotchner Reader

You move back home with your Dad, Aaron Hotchner after turbulent situations as a dancer at a local club. Before you can give a private dance, you see that the client is Spencer Reid. Who not only works for your dad, he also happens to be your college teacher.

W.C 3.1k

Warnings! Exotic dancer! Aesthetic and reader is Hotch’s daughter but skin color is never described in fic. Reader is diagnosed with BPD! Slight angst with her past! Age gap! Reader is 25 and Spencer is 35! Light fingering! Unprotected sex! Daddy kink! Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx proofread once because I was sick as hell

The last thing you expected was to be unpacking your last suitcase in your childhood bedroom in your father’s house at nearly twenty six years old. You didn’t have much to bring, having to live on the run for several months years ago when you were a teenager.

You sigh and plop down on your small mattress, bare legs covered in glitter. Aaron Hotchner was your father. The head profiler of the BAU in the FBI and acclaimed in his successes but to you he was just…Dad. Jack was your little brother, someone you hadn’t seen for a few years. When you told him you were going to stay in the house with them, the little boy was ecstatic and crushed your torso in a hug with his kid arms.

“Settling in?” Your dad’s voice snapped you out of your trance and you gave him a tight smile. Hotch stood with his predisposed blank expression with his arms crossed.

“Yeah. I’m good. I’m about to leave for the night.” He didn’t respond to that and you bristled. You knew your father wasn’t happy about the way you were able to pay for school but you were well over the age of being an adult. Your mother’s murder when you just turned eighteen left you with very little choices so you turned to dancing.

“You don’t need to do that. I can find you another job. Something part time. You could still pay for school.” Hotch offered but you shook your head, finally standing as you adjusted your jacket.

“Thanks but I’d rather handle it on my own. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You stepped around him, letting the silence hang in the air as you carried your purse. A change of clothes, heels and mace were secured.

You drove to the club and practiced the mask you’d built for years of your new lifestyle. The separation of your parents, Mom’s death and a series of abusive relationships that followed afterward left you broken. Angry and right now, you felt cold. You didn’t have any friends. How could? Who would understand you? Who would want to? You were full of hate and despair. You kept your job a secret when you went to school during the day. No one spoke to you and you didn’t speak to them.

You felt like a burn victim. Every touch hurt. You didn’t want to let anyone in. You couldn’t handle the hurt that would come along with it. It felt easier to be cold. To put on your favorite pair of heels, roll your body on the metal and turn off your brain. In the club, you could just…be you. Your job didn’t require a lot of words. Your playlist ramped through the speakers as you danced, a practiced seductive smile and a dark look in your eyes illuminating in the glow. Bills were thrown on the ground as you worked the floor, amping up the growing crowd and your regulars.

A pang flashed in your chest as you thought of Hotch's face when you left home but you pushed past it and continued. You had a private dance to give after your time on stage so you mentally prepared for that.

After a while, you sauntered off the stage and touched up your makeup. Time to make yourself as desirable as possible for this lap dance. You took a breath, plastered on a smile and opened the curtain for the hidden room before your eyes widened.

Spencer Reid was sitting on the velvet couch, legs spread and his pants obviously tightening. His lips parted in shock when he saw your nearly naked body and you stood there still as a statue. You saw this man every single day for hours. He worked with your father at the BAU and worst of all?

He was the instructor at college.

“Uh-” You began.

Spencer shot up and gave you the decency of averting his eyes from your breasts. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t know you were a dancer here. This is extremely inappropriate. Here,” Spencer dug out a wad of cash out of his pocket, shoving it into your palm.

“Wait, I didn’t actually-” But he was storming out before you could finish the sentence.

After the awkward as fuck encounter with your teacher, the rest of the night went smoothly. You crashed into bed after counting your cash to sleep for an hour. Hotch was already gone but he did make another pot of coffee in his departure with a note. You push back your wet hair as you pour the liquid into a cup and read the paper.

“Have a good day- Love, Dad.”

You grit your teeth and try to bite back the anger percolating in your chest as you leave the house.

The university was large so you usually went unnoticed as you settled into your usual seat in the middle of the room. Another thought you didn’t allow yourself to entertain was…you thought about Spencer.

Alot.

Ever since you saw him the first day, you were almost obsessed. His long waves that hung by his ears, tall lean body with a hint of muscle and his converse he always wore. He was ten years older than you but younger than the other professors. He was awkward. Tended to ramble and sometimes he showed a sense of self doubt. But he was so fucking adorable. You almost felt like a girl again, doodling little hearts around his name in your notebook yet you never approached him. You never raised your hand.

Spencer came in with seconds to spare, checking his watch and he settled his bag behind the desk. Your pulse quickened when his eyes found you briefly and then he began to speak, “Class, we’re going to pick up from yesterday. I’m going to give a lecture-“ He went on with his lesson plan but you focused on his hands gripping the wood of the table as your lips found the tip of your pen.

You were a good student, smarter than people gave you credit for so you got away with only half paying attention as he talked. He was avoiding your stare and you felt a little sense of power.

When class was over, you took your time standing from your seat but you didn’t expect him to say, “Ms. Hotchner, do you mind staying for a few minutes? Unless you need to catch the next,”

“Of course, Mr. Reid. No problem.” You smiled and waltzed over. You popped your hip, tilting your head as he swallowed and waited for the rest of the students to leave.

When the classroom was empty, Spencer cleared his throat and his brown eyes flicked over your body. You wore form fitting clothes with an oversized jacket, your hair was dry now and you pursed your gloss lips.

“I want to apologize for last night. That was inappropriate. I hope I don’t make you feel uncomfortable but if you want to transfer out of this class, I will sign the papers.”

“Transfer? Why would I do that?” You raise a brow. “It’s not a big deal. I have to pay for school somehow.” Spencer flexed his jaw and nodded.

“There’s a professional courtesy here and I don’t want to break that.” You smirk at him.

“So it’s not because you work with my scary dad? You just don’t want to feel awkward since you saw me half naked.”

“Let’s just agree to not bring it up.” He interrupts and adjusts his shirt. “I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

You shrug. “That you went to strip club last night for a private dance? Your secrets are safe with me.” You wink.

“Stop doing that.” He says sharply and you laugh breathlessly as he narrows his eyes at you. Leaning down, Spencer speaks quieter. “Don’t flirt with me. It’s not right.”

“Who said I was flirting with you?” You contradicted the statement by casually exposing the length of your neck as you peered at him with darkened eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Spencer turned to leave but halted when he felt your fingers brush his shoulder.

“Running away again?”

Spencer’s Adam's apple bobs as he looks at your hand. You allow it to fall away as he speeds out of the room with a growing fire in your veins. You only wanted him more now.

When you got home, you completed homework and set a timer for a thirty minute nap. You stretched your arms over your head and peeked out of the window. It was getting dark out. You’d be leaving to go to work in a little bit but you narrowed your eyes when you saw two cars in your driveway. One was your father’s and the other was Spencer’s.

A deranged giggle escaped you as you changed clothes. Putting on a tank top, shorts and you pulled your g strip higher over your hips.

You heard both your father and Spencer talking when you came downstairs. You see open folders on the dining table, the coffee pot and both men looking up at you.

“Hey,” You greet casually and Hotch simply nods at you.

“Are you going in tonight?”

Spencer shifts uncomfortably in his seat. His suit shirt is unbuttoned partially, hair messy from running his fingers through it and his lips part.

“Yeah I am. I just wanted to come down and say hi to my favorite teacher.” You refrain from biting your lip as you see Spencer breathe heavier and Hotch returns to scanning the paperwork.

“Jack is at a sleepover for the night since it’s the weekend. Reid and I are just going over Case details. I’m not going to try and convince you to stay home-“

“Then don’t.” You snap at him.

“But there is a killer out there and I’d rather you stay home.”

You scoff and lean against the wall. Arms crossed as Spencer focuses on the floor. Your dad’s expression is made of stone. “Dad, just say it. You’re embarrassed your daughter is a fucking dancer. You don’t need to beat around the bush.”

“I’m not embarrassed. You fit the victim profile and I don’t want you to get hurt.” Hotch responds with a hint of frustration.

“Oh? Like my step mom?” The words leave before you have a chance to think and you shake your head. “Dad. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yes. Just like your mother. You’re a vulnerable young woman. You’re coming from a stressful situation and you work late at night. That’s exactly what the unsub looks for.” Hotch flashes a glance at Spencer. “And if you are going to work, then Reid will follow you there.”

The younger man doesn’t argue with your father. You don’t either and you nod. “Sure thing. You can be my stand in daddy.” You could have sworn you saw fire flash in Spencer’s eyes but he gave your father a tight lipped smile.

“Guess I’m on a bodyguard shift.”

Hotch swept over the table and returned to looking at the paper. “Bodyguard isn’t the right word. Keep her in your sights.”

Spencer tried his best to remain invisible but you kept your eyes on him the whole time you danced on stage. You hustled harder than usual. Wearing the crowd's favorite set and you made sure to give him the best angle of your ass while you humped the floor.

You didn’t have any private rooms yet so you were going to focus on customer service as much as possible as the brown haired agent stood awkwardly in the corner when you had an idea.

You step off the stage and make your way towards him. Spencer tries to press himself into the wall as you get on your hands and knees. You crawl towards him as he looks down at you with flushed cheeks. People start whistling as you turn around, slowly standing and sitting down on his lap. You’re lost in the rock music as you grind down on his pelvis, feeling him grow hard.

“I know you want to touch me,” You tell him as you lean your head back against his shoulder. Spencer groans as you feel his arm shaking. “Go ahead. I won’t tell my dad.”

“You’re playing a game with me,” He says against your ear. “And you’re going to lose.”

Spencer lifts you up off his lap and you use the momentum to spin around. Setting your heeled shoe in between his legs. His gaze is filled with desire but he won’t break by this. Yet. You could tell.

“I never lose, Spencer.” You bite out his name as you remove your leg. You allow your hands to fall on your tits as you continue slowly dancing.

“And I don’t fuck around with desperate little girls trying to act out a fantasy.” His statement ignites your fire. You’re the desperate one?

You remove yourself from him and storm off. You hear him call your name as you go into the dressing room, slamming the door shut as you throw your clothes over your body. You weren’t sure if it was what he said or just the build up of everything but you wanted to rage out.

“Hey girl, are you okay?” One of your friends asked you as she got ready.

“I’m going home. They can deal with me being gone early one night.” You growl as you march out and you rip open the entrance.

You storm to your car, climb in and try to start it. But it won’t turn on. You turn the keys to no avail and you let out a scream. Pressing your forehead to the steering wheel, you huff when you feel a knock on the window.

Spencer opened the door and you glared at him.

“Car won’t start?”

“Um yeah no shit.” You bark and Spencer sighs.

“Come on.”

“What do you MEAN come on?” You ask him and he holds out his hands.

“I’m going to drive you home.”

You want to refuse and be petty but you were honestly too tired to fight about it. You slide into his passenger seat and turn away from him. Spencer gripped the driving wheel firmly as he drove you home. The ride was silent. As he shut off the engine, you quickly exited and entered your home.

He was on your heel, “Will you stop for one second?” You spin around but start to stumble in your heels and before you hit the ground, he catches you by the arms.

“Whoa; whoa it’s okay, I got you.” His voice was gentle and he steadied you to sit on the couch. “Let’s take these off,” Spencer crouched down and started undoing the straps around your ankles, his long fingers grazing your skin and you stared down at his brown curls. Without thinking you tousled them and he glanced up at you with a hazed expression.

“Your hair is soft.” You whisper and he gives you a tiny smile.

“Everyone says that,” He chuckles and pulls off your heels. Spencer’s brown irises trail over your legs and then flicker around the room. He puts his hands in his pockets.

“You know bottling everything up isn’t going to help you.” You bristle and start to scowl.

“Who says I’m doing that?” Spencer raises his eyebrows.

“It’s also my job to study human behavior.”

“Oh? So you’ve been psychoanalyzing me?” You challenge and he shrugs.

“You make it easy.”

You make a growling noise at the back of your throat and roll your eyes. “You sound like the shrink I saw after Mom died. That’s when she told me I have borderline personality disorder.”

Spencer nods in understanding. “That’s a hard one to live with. It makes sense after what you’ve been through. But you…don’t need to push away your dad. He’s just trying to be there for you.”

“I don’t need anyone.” You ground out.

“Everyone does. It doesn’t make you less because you have needs.” Spencer offers simply and you stand up.

“Spencer, you can’t just say things like that and then pretend I don’t exist.”

“You’re ten years younger than me. I work with your father. I’m your teacher. This wouldn’t be possible-“

“I’m a grown ass woman, Spencer. Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean I am. But if you don’t want me,”

“You think that’s it? You think it’s because I don’t want you? You’re all I fucking think about. It takes everything I have not to excuse everyone out of the classroom and take you right over my desk.” He says with a husky voice and you run your tongue over your lips.

“Maybe you should stop being a pussy. And actually do it. Come on, Spencer. I know you probably have some pent up anger you need to take out…why don’t you show me exactly what you’re made of?”

That was all he needed. He crashed his mouth to yours in a kiss, you sucked his lower lip and gripped his collar as he backed you back onto the couch. Spencer mounted you, hauling your knees apart as he ripped away and stared at your soaked pair of panties.

“Creaming yourself over a little kiss? God damn princess,” He breathed and peeled them off. He tossed them over his shoulder, rubbing his digits over your swollen clit. “Such a pretty pussy.” He praised and worked you over.

He dipped his fingers inside you, curling them as you tightened around him and clawed his shoulders. “Spencer, don’t tease me. Fuck, I need your cock. I need you to fuck me.” You whine.

“Desperate for my dick already? Aww, that’s so cute. But I can’t say no to that pout of yours. Fuckin gorgeous.” He shoves down his pants and boxers, pumping his precum leaking dick a few times before slamming into you.

You throw your head back as he thrusts into you aggressively, his thumb working your clit as he moves and buries his face into your neck. “You’re just a good girl, huh? Needed me to take care of you? You want me to fill you with my cum and make you daddy’s doll?”

You harmonize with his moans as you grow close, “Daddy I want you to breed me, don’t let anything spill out. Just stuff me,”

You feel his ropes of cum spill into your cunt and quickly follow suit. You wrap your legs around his hips, keeping him in place as he rocks into you. Fucking you through as his balls slap against your ass.

“Don’t worry, princess. Gonna fuck you all night long. Since you wanted to toy with me during class. Now it’s my turn to toy with you.”

Spencer heaved you up, carrying you to your bedroom and shut the door. Thank god you fucking moved here, right?

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @littlexdeaths @oceanblvd111 @lilacheavenn @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess @redhead1180

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #Spencer Reid smut #dr. spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you

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sweetiecutie · 1 year ago

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🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

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babyfoxflower · 15 days ago

Note

I had an idea, Alastor having strange feelings around Angel Doe! reader, the reader would be an angel, sent from heaven later to help at the hotel, perhaps reader because she is an angel she is very innocent and does not see or understand why alastor acts strange around her

My Angel

Alastor x Fem! Angel Reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Mentions of Murder, Jealousy, Possessiveness, No Smut (just cuz the requester didn’t ask for it)

It had been three months since Heaven sent you to help at the Hazbin Hotel, and Alastor for one could not stand it. It wasn’t that he hated or even remotely disliked you. You were a perfectly pleasant girl. A sweet little doe.

You never bothered him with stupid questions. You respected his boundaries, laughed at his old timey puns, and always greeted him with one of the prettiest smiles he’s ever seen. In fact you smiled a lot, something he appreciated probably more than anyone.

You also had the prettiest eyes, the loviest hair, the sweetest face, big adorable fluffy ears, and whenever he saw your fluffy little tail—he wanted to gently tug on it just to hear you bleat.

You radiated beauty and grace, and were beacon of warmth and comfort. Everything about you was perfect. You were a creature of God, never touched by evil or impurity. There wasn’t a single mean bone in your body.

What he couldn’t stand was this strange feeling he felt around you. It was as if he had butterflies in his stomach and his dead heart would beat faster, even occasionally skipping a beat.

What was more annoying was that you seemed completely oblivious to the what you were doing to him. At first, he thought that this was some kind of effect that angels had on others. However when he asked the others about it, none of them felt the same way he did around you.

“Sounds like you’re in love,” Vaggie said.

“Ahahaha! That’s a good one, my dear!” He laughed.

“Hey, I wouldn’t believe it either. But what you’re describing is what it feels like to be in love.”

In love? Was he really in love with you?

Sure, he felt extremely jealous whenever anyone else was taking up your time. Sure, he felt that you should only be by his side. Sure, he murdered a few sinners who were staring at you when the two of you went out for walks together. Sure, there was a time when an especially lowly wretch had the gall to ask you, the most gorgeous lady to ever live, on a date and Alastor ripped the man in half with his bare hands when you were distracted. And sure, he had frequent dreams about you where he would press you up against a wall and…

“Hmm, perhaps what that angry little woman said was true…I’m in love.”

———————————————————————

“Y/n, my dear, may I speak with you?”

“Of course!” You flashed him that gorgeous smile.

Alastor led you away to a corner where you two could have privacy.

“What is it, Al? You look nervous.”

“Y/n, I…You’re making this more difficult by batting your lovely doe eyes at me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you frowned.

“No, you don’t have to be sorry. Damn it! Why is this so hard to tell you!?” He exclaimed.

“I find it easier to just blurt out whatever you need to say,” you replied.

“You’re right. I’ll just say it! I love you.”

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, “Pardon?”

“I love you, Y/n. You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I think of before I go to sleep. You’re constantly on my mind, even in my dreams. I love you so much that I can’t breathe when you’re not by my side. When you walk away, I miss you even before you are out of sight. I love you.”

“You mean more than a friend, right?”

Alastor sighed, “Way more than a friend, my darling doe.”

Suddenly that smile that he loved so much returned to your face, “I love you too, my sweet stag! Everything you just said, I feel the exact same way,” you licked his cheek affectionately.

He blushed.

“Oh sorry! I forgot that you used to be human and that humans don’t tend to lick each other.”

“It’s quite alright, my love,” he licked your cheek in the same fashion, “I’m not a human anymore, my doe. I’m your stag.”

Taglist 🏷️: @2dmenforme @xghostnuggsx @alastorthirsty

#alastor fluff #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff

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heartpascal · 2 years ago

Text

lock it when you leave

▹ — joel miller x platonic!f!reader + tommy miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: part three of if the door wasn’t shut — tensions rise in jackson, leaving you scrambling to find your place.

▹ — a/n: guys i’m not all that happy with this part!!! it feels kinda … filler-y. but we are getting somewhere!!! i have ideas for part 4 :’) let me know what you guys think!! (if you guys wanna be tagged in future parts let me know)

▹ — warnings: angst, guns, fire, murder, there’s a baby in this one, blood, arguments, infected + raiders, father figure miller bros

▹ — tags: @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @pedropascalsrealgf @faceache111 @livvy256 @dizzyforyou @hiphopdancer101universe @aphrcdites @axionn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @coolchick333 @hufflepuffriver @kobenio @dorothleah @moonygremlin @tomorrowseverything @martinsmomo @teenagetragediesforeveryone @dksjskx @inkiqayo @fariylixie0915 @jbcalway @ipadkidsworld @coldwcter @rhyanna6012 @gimalo135 @kimpineeeeeeee @jerseygirllll @dreamerglassesgirl @g0bble @firsttimewriter92 @coldheartedmar @cheneyq @dilfsaremyfavourite @sakurarukas @brilliantopposite187 @ilovemydinoboi @chiogarza @lockleywife @famoussuitcasepiebagel-blog @doctorliamsr @dustyroper28 @daffodil0darling @marchstrilogy @cappucinolia @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr @slut4timotheechalamet

masterlist | PART ONE | PART TWO

howl’s song association!

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Four months ago, when the wound was still fresh, you never would’ve thought that you’d be here. Stood comfortably in the Miller’s home, stirring food over the stove as Tommy and Maria fussed over the newborn of the household in their living room.

In fact, you would’ve bet against this exact scenario, certain that you’d never let yourself get close to another Miller ever again. It was the only logical thing for you to do — after all, that wound had been angry and sore, the blood still wet.

You wouldn’t say it had healed, not even close, really. It still throbbed, white hot to the touch, especially when you thought of Joel and Ellie, but you were managing. Coping. It helped, having Tommy and Maria around, far more than you had ever expected. They were kind, softened from years of sanctuary, and you hated to admit it, but you cared about them.

The feeling had snuck up on you, which was ridiculous, considering that was exactly how it had happened before. Though, perhaps you had been less apprehensive the first time around, considering the way you flinched away from their care in the beginning. You should’ve expected it, should’ve fought against it with everything in you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

This was the reminder of just how human you were. Despite all the pain, the suffering and anger and scars against your skin, you craved connection. You wanted people to care about you, wanted your life to have meaning, even though it seemed to only end in your own heartbreak.

You just hoped this would be different.

A childish thing, to hope, in a world like this one, but that’s what you were, right? You were allowed to be childish, to let that hope build back up until it was inevitably knocked down, reduced to rubble. People seemed to appear from the strangest of places, coming to help you scavenge through the debris for something to rebuild the foundations with.

That’s what Tommy and Maria had been to you — fitting, really, considering what Tommy had done in the time before cordyceps. They had spent time with you, helping you build up that hope for something better, something kinder.

You hated to do it, hated to lean back into relationships, but you trusted the two of them more than you were willing to admit to anyone — even to yourself. With their own child now in the world, you just hoped that you wouldn’t get in the way.

Maria’s drawn out sigh shook you from such thoughts, and you raised an eyebrow at her where she stood beside you, her back resting against the kitchen counter. “What’s up with you?” You ask her, turning your gaze from her slight smirk back to the food, where you started to fish on to plates. It was a good job she’d caught your attention — much longer and the three of you would’ve been eating charred scraps.

“Oh, nothing.” She responded, and looked sharply to you when you scoffed a slight laugh. “What?” She asked, grinning.

“That was the biggest sigh I’ve ever heard, and I’ve known Joel for about as long as I can remember.” You told her, almost absentmindedly, not thinking too much on the joking comment until after you’d already spoken it.

Maria’s smile got small, and she took over the garnishing part of dishing out dinner, the part that you still didn’t understand. Why put it on there if it didn’t need to be? And when Tommy was definitely going to pick it off?

“Don’t judge me,” Maria told you, saying your name in what was almost a scolding voice, “Tommy’s just putting the baby to bed, he’ll be in in one sec.” She said, after you had moved to pick up his plate, too. You raised a hand, grabbing her plate and leaving her to bring the cutlery, rolling your eyes when she scolded you.

“Calm down, Maria, it’s only been a week. Let me help.” You said to her, when she continued to lecture you on just how capable she was, despite the way she held onto the walls and doorframes with one hand as she walked, the other holding onto her now slightly flatter stomach.

“She giving you a tough time?” Tommy asked, having settled the baby, and hearing Maria’s rants.

“Isn’t she always?” The two of you shared an amused look when Maria immediately jumped on the defence, only relenting with a roll of her eyes when Tommy leant down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Hey, don’t forget who just got you all your new clay, kid!” Maria told you, as Tommy left to grab his own plate from the kitchen, and grinned when your shoulders sagged in defeat. “How’re the mugs coming?”

You shrugged idly, scraping food onto your fork.

“You talked my ear off about those damn mugs, and now you’re quiet?” Tommy questioned as he dropped down with a huff on the couch, stretching back slightly.

“That was just to annoy you.” You told him, fighting a grin when he sat up with something close to an incredulous expression on his face. You wouldn’t lie, though, it warmed your chest slightly that Maria was asking about such things when you knew how exhausted she was. Painfully, you realised that she reminded you more and more of Tess. “They’re… good. Kinda. Improving.” You said to Maria after a brief pause, before shoving your food into your mouth.

“Well, we could do with some more. Only got the two, and you’ll need one. Plus some for guests.” Maria said between bites of food, ignoring the look Tommy shot at her for the guests comment. You weren’t stupid — you knew that she was talking about Joel and Ellie. They didn’t really have other guests, after all. Any other socialising was done in town, even town-related meetings, usually going down early in the morning in the hall.

“I’ll see what I can do.” You responded, feeling something shiver down your spine bitterly as you thought of Joel and Ellie coming here.

Usually, you pretended they didn’t. You liked to think that Tommy and Maria’s house was untouchable, impervious to anyone who wasn’t you, them, or their new baby. You saw the remnants of their other guests, of course, like when you’d come in the morning, and there would be four plates in the sink. Or when Ellie’s coat still rested on the coat hooks. But the couple’s presence felt comforting, and you weren’t willing to give it up. Not right now, at least.

You refused to let Joel take anything else away from you. He didn’t have the right — he never did. It wasn’t like he was your father! Joel had made that much clear from the start, back when it had just been you, him and Tess.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

“She doesn’t have anyone, Joel, what else was I meant to do?” Tess asked, her words biting as she yelled them toward her partner.

“The last thing we need is a kid to take care of. Send her to FEDRA.” Joel responded, his voice loud, but not quite a shout. He was trying to be the voice of reason here, not the asshole. Looking after some child they didn’t ask for, it could only end badly.

What if somebody came looking for you? Somebody with a vengeance? What if you turned out to be some asshole kid who killed them both? What if they couldn’t get the rations to feed you? What if—

“What? So she can get shot in the street in a few years? Joel, she should get a choice.” Tess bargained, unsure herself as to why she felt the need to defend you so much.

She knew Joel was right — knew that it wasn’t practical or realistic to keep you in their shitty apartment, but some part of her just knew. You needed the two of them, and in the middle of the apocalypse, was it really too difficult to do one good thing? Tess wasn’t saying it to be a hero — but god knows that too many kids had died already. She wasn’t trying to give Joel somebody else to look after, she was just trying to help.

Tess wanted to be able to look you in the face, and tell you that this was your chance. They didn’t turn up often in the apocalypse, and she wanted to urge you to take it. Was that too much to offer? Just an opportunity to live a bit longer, to survive in a world that strived for your death?

“Tess…” Joel sighed heavily, turning his head to look where you were sat back against their couch cushions, knees drawn to your chest as you ducked your head, clearly pretending that you hadn’t been listening the whole time. “Okay, fine. Let the kid stay.”

Tess nodded at him, the two of them moving apart as she headed towards where you were sat, something heavy and daunting resting on her shoulders as she looked at you, foolishly hoping she wouldn’t live to regret this.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Things were getting tense in Jackson.

You knew that things had been growing restless for a while, but it had gotten worse, somehow beginning to feel tangible in the very air you breathed.

Two separate raiding attacks had come in the past three weeks, which was definitely cause for concern. The first hadn’t gotten far enough to reach you where you had slept in your shop, and it was only the morning after as the dead were buried that you found out it happened.

The second was not so easy — waking you up in the middle of the night, which was an easy task, considering how light your sleep had become at the reminder that the walls around Jackson weren’t impenetrable. You woke up to the sounds of yelling, the roaring of flames, which sounded far too close to comfort. It was only when you rushed outside of your shop, clay carving tool clutched in your hand, that you knew for certain it was raiders.

They’d gotten deep into the town, which was a shock to the system, making it feel like cold water was running down your back. People were running on the street, gunfire sounding from further out, by the wall. The raiders seemed to be multiplying, but you knew they couldn’t be more than a party of twenty. No way would any of the guards miss a group bigger than that, right?

“Get back inside!” One of them yelled towards you, a rifle sitting stiffly in his hand, and a helmet resting on his head. He didn’t have a very commanding voice. You stayed where you were, frozen.

He approached, fingers tightening on his gun, and you could’ve sworn that your heart was beating so fast in might explode. The blood was rushing in your ears, and you felt sick for a moment, before the cold wash of reality came over you, in the form of the raider yelling so harshly in your face that you could smell his breath.

You blinked harshly at him, and swallowed down the bile in your throat as he moved to raise his gun toward your head. It felt like something had snapped in you, and you were launching yourself at him in less than a second, reminiscent of a barely-there memory back before Ellie was around.

Your clay tool hadn’t been very sharp, so it had taken force to push it into his neck when he fell down under your sudden weight. You tried not to think about the pressure you’d forced on it as you shoved his head down into the pavement when he tried to lift it in some form of defence, likely trying to smack his helmet into your face. His hands reached up, pushing you away with a burst of strength — what you hoped was the final burst of adrenaline.

Loose stones on the ground scraped up against your arm, drawing the tiniest bits of blood as you skidded across the floor where he had shoved you. When he turned his gaze to you, you bared your teeth, snatching his gun and holding it firmly away from you when he reached for it, pulling the trigger.

Glass shattered behind you, and you tugged the gun until it came away from his grasp, and he reached up, pulling the tool from where it stuck out of his neck.

The gun was firmly in your hands, aimed at him, before he could even raise the tool towards you, the sudden rush of blood from his body only rendering him weaker.

Your name had been called a second later, and you scrambled away from the raider as gunshots slowly faded out, leaving behind scared shouts and the blaze of the still-burning fire. You looked up to see Tommy, rushing towards you and tugging you up from the ground the moment he reached you.

“Shit,” He muttered, holding your arms tightly as he let his gun hang limply at his side. “Are you okay? You hurt?”

You shook your head, still grasping onto the stolen gun, and watched him sigh in something close to relief, before he turned his gaze to the shattered front of your shop.

“Come on.” Tommy urged then, nodding his head and only releasing you when you made to follow him, and he grasped onto his own gun as you began the trek to his and Maria’s home.

When you got there, Tommy shoved you inside and quickly shut the door behind him, taking the gun from your hands and resting it against the wall by the coatrack. He did the same with his own gun, a moment later.

“Maria!” You called, your voice scratchy as it left your throat. The baby was crying, you could hear it the moment you stepped inside, and you moved straight into the kitchen, finding Maria stood there, holding onto the baby and shushing, as she paced back and forth.

“Oh, thank god, you’re both okay.” She sighed out, approaching her husband and pressing a hard kiss to his lips. The worry lines on her forehead were visible, showing how stressed and anxious she truly was. “You hurt?” She asked the two of you, raising her voice to be heard over the crying baby she rocked in her arms.

“No, we’re alright.” Tommy answered, his words sounding close to relief despite the way his muscles remained tight, tense.

“Shit, Tommy,” Maria swore, looking at a gash that was trickling blood down his arm. “We gotta get you patched up. Would you mind?” She directed the last question to you, lifting her arms slightly to show off the crying baby held in them.

“Uh— sure.” You agreed, anxiously, because despite the fact it had been a few weeks since the baby was born, you had continued to keep your distance. You followed Maria into the living room, where she sat you down on the couch and placed him in your arms, as you tried to mirror the shape of her own.

He was loud, and heavier than you had expected, but you let him rest heavily in your left arm, with your right just resting gently against his side, finger running over the pyjamas he was dressed in.

“You two gonna be alright?” Tommy asked, nodding when you did, and following Maria to the upstairs bathroom, where their personal first aid kit was kept.

You rocked your arms the slightest bit, trying not to release the sigh of relief when the baby finally began to settle down, the loud sounds fading and leaving behind a tense silence over Jackson. When all the loud noises faded, you were left with a slight ring to your ears, likely from where that raider had fired his gun right beside them, aimed at your shop.

You couldn’t imagine how Maria had felt — she was a protector, and it must’ve killed her to stay behind with the baby whilst her husband left to help out the town. She was still recovering from giving birth, the event taking its toll, especially in the apocalypse, where the painkillers she’d had during her first birth weren’t available. Medical professionals were hard to come by, with only two residing in Jackson, neither specialising in things such as pregnancy or labour.

Luckily, they knew more than enough about it to give Maria the best chance at survival she could get. You don’t know how Tommy might’ve reacted if she hadn’t gotten through the birth. You didn’t want to think about it.

“Tommy? Maria?” A voice yelled, the front door banging open and causing the baby to begin his wailing once again. “Shit, sorry—” Ellie cut herself off as she entered the room, shock evident on her face when she saw you sat in there.

“They’re upstairs.” You answered stiffly, referring to her earlier yells, and you began rocking the baby boy once again, trying to settle his cries. You ran a gentle finger down his forehead, to the tip of his nose, shooting Ellie a nasty look when she just continued to stare at you.

“Joel went to find you.” She said, after a few moments, lowering her voice as you finally got the baby to begin settling, your arms tense as you tried to keep him as still as possible. You looked up at that, eyebrows creasing as you regarded her, saw the way her fingers fiddled together, pulling at the zip of her jacket.

“Why?” You questioned, confused for a moment. After all, Joel hadn’t cared much about leaving you behind when the two do them left Jackson, so why would he care about your whereabouts while you were here? “I can take care of myself.” You said, when she didn’t respond to your question, and you felt your jaw tighten when Ellie just rolled her eyes.

“Joel did what he did to take care of you. Why can’t you see that?” Ellie asked, voice hardening as she looked at you, lounged against the couch, holding Joel’s nephew in your arms, whilst he was on there searching for you.

You sat up slightly, a deep crease forming between your brows at the fire in Ellie’s words. It made somerhing uncomfortable stir in your chest, tightening and getting hotter as you looked at her expression.

“I didn’t ask him to do that. I wanted to come with you both. He took that from me, Ellie, he left me behind.” You said, feeling like you were turning in circles, beginning to feel dizzy and not getting anywhere. You strained to keep your arms somewhat relaxed, to keep your hands still where they wanted to clench into fists.

Her next words were quieter, and you struggled to hear them over the ringing still in your ears, drowning out the blazing world around you. She spoke again, her eyebrows furrowing to match your own, “You’re being unfair, you said you didn’t want to carry on!”

“I said I wanted to go home!” You said, voice raising for a moment, before you quietened your tone, only for the sake of the baby you held, who had already been disturbed enough tonight. “And in case you didn’t notice, Ellie, that was impossible. I lost everyone, don’t you get that?”

She shook her head, her cheeks going red as she grit her teeth, “Of course I fucking get that! You’re not the only one who lost people.”

“That’s not what I said!” You responded, feeling increasingly heated the longer the conversation went on, “But that trip cost me everything. So yeah, maybe I didn’t want to carry on. But I would’ve. I would’ve followed you two anywhere.”

“You got to stay here, in this actual fucking town, with actual fucking people and food and— and water!”

“People who are strangers! I was stuck here, in a town with things I don’t understand, people I don’t recognise, and the only ones I trusted left me here.” You spat back at her, wishing she could just understand what it had been like — didn’t she know how it felt to have your choice taken away from you? Why should they get to decide things for you? What happened to that control that Joel and Tess knew you valued so much?

Ellie opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and you swallowed down the anger that felt lodged in your throat, focusing on the baby who was fussing in your arms, saving his hands in the air until he caught onto one of your fingers, and held it tightly.

“Sh— There you are.” Joel’s voice came from the doorway, a heavy sigh forcing itself from his chest, and he entered the living room, his face crumpled in something like fear and relief. He opened and closed his mouth more than once, like he wanted to say something, before he finally settled on, “Tommy okay?”

“Maria’s patching him up.” You said flatly, turning your head away from where he stood beside Ellie, and keeping your gaze on the baby and where he was slowly beginning to dig his blunt nails into the skin of your finger.

Joel stared at you, his chest feeling close to hollow, and he could just remember the fear that had swallowed him whole when he saw the raider lay dead outside of the shop, the shop windows shattered against the ground. He had shoved the door open faster than he could think, his boots crunching against shattered glass loudly as he rushed to the door in the back, his heart pounding so hard he thought he might have a heart attack as his eyes scanned the ground.

When he had finally gotten the door open, a breath had left him as he realised you weren’t here, and he felt the pressure that had been pushing against his spine loosen the slightest bit, and he hurried to make his way back to Rancher Street, hoping with everything he had that you were at Tommy’s.

And now, here you were, as safe as you could possibly be, but Joel still didn’t feel relieved.

He felt dread, all consuming, and it reminded him painfully of that time, all those many months ago. Had it been a year?

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Joel’s hand had been frozen, finger hovering over the trigger of his pistol, and he felt the air in his lungs struggling to get out. It was suffocating, making his body ache as he stared at you, where you held your breath, pressed as tightly to the wall as you could get.

Your eyes had closed, and he could see the muscles in your face twitch as you tried not to flinch away. One wrong move, wrong breath, wrong sound, and you’d be dead in a second — or worse, and Joel didn’t want to think about worse.

Tess was on the floor below, the three of you slowly making your way up, clearing the building as you went, aiming to get to the fifth floor, where the supplies were meant to be. Joel knew she wouldn’t be coming up any time soon, with the way the clicking echoed all throughout the room, likely travelling down the staircase.

It was right by your face — you could feel the breath against your cheek as it gargled and clicked, looking for you, getting so close that the shards of fungus that cracked its skull into pieces were almost brushing against your hair.

He didn’t know what to do — if he aimed wrong, he could hit you, or miss entirely, and just alert it to both yours and his own presence. He could try to kill it with the axe that rested against the nearby cabinet, one that he recognised from glass boxes labelled in case of fire, in the time before.

There was a glass bottle beside his foot, and with the slowest movements he could muster, Joel crouched low to the floor, gripping it in tense fingers, and threw it as far away from you as he could get it. He held his breath as it shattered, and the clicker let out a screech in your face, whirling away just as you had to exhale the breath you’d been holding. It hobbled away, unsteady on its feet, and you picked up the axe as you moved away from the wall.

Joel ushered you out of the room, back into the stairway, and grit his teeth as the clicker turned back at the sound of your hurried footsteps. He just about had time to slam the metal door shut, putting the deadbolt at the top back up into the concrete ceiling.

You breathed a sigh of relief, cradling your shaking hand to your chest, while the other gripped onto the axe tightly, ready to swing at a moments notice.

“Skip that floor?” You asked him, in a slightly joking way, and he nodded, face set in a dangerous expression as he glared at the door that shook slightly with the Infected clawing at it from the other side. With shaky legs, you climbed up to the next floor, waiting by the door as Tess poked her head up, hurrying up the steps to the floor you had just been on.

“Everything okay?” She asked, hands out towards Joel as if he was a feral animal, and he hadn’t quite realised just how thunderous his expression had become.

He nodded to the door, hearing the muffled bangs and scraped coming from the other side, the screech of fungal outrage. Tess placed a hand on his shoulder, nodding understandingly at him.

As they ascended the stairs to meet you where you waited for them, Joel could only grit his teeth as dread built tightly into his chest, squeezing his lungs and heart as he looked at your trembling fingers. You were fine, he knew, that Infected hadn’t even managed to touch you, but Joel couldn’t help the way that dread and fear began piling upon him, weighing his chest down so much that it became hard to inhale another breath.

You held the axe up, the thing slightly too heavy for you to carry it comfortably, but you managed, gripping tightly as you waited for Tess to open the door.

Joel exhaled through his nose, swallowing down the heavy feeling that was trying to crawl up his throat, and he swore you wouldn’t get that close to danger again. He didn’t want to lose you.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

The council meeting hadn’t gone well — you could see it on Maria’s face, the moment she stepped through the door to your shop. The tense air in Jackson had only gotten worse, feeling thicker every time you walked past the old jewellery shop down the street, now reduced to charred remains.

“What happened?” You asked, slightly reluctantly. Clearly, this wasn’t going to be a fun conversation. Part of you was worried about what she was going to answer with, too. Could they disband the town?

“Well, nobody’s got answers for how twenty-four guys got past our lookouts. And conveniently, whoever was on lookout when they got past, seems to have been rubbed off of the rota.” Maria grumbled, looking just as miserable as she felt. You felt bad for her — she should’ve been at home, feeling happy about the new member of her family, not having to deal with a town crisis.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, letting Maria press her hands against the wooden table in your shop, and watching as she leant her chin against her chest, a deep sigh leaving her.

“They agreed on fixing up the wall yet?” You asked, feeling bad about doing so when Maria’s shoulders immediately dropped some more.

“No,” She muttered, frustration inking at the corners of her words, “Said somethin’ about conserving resources.”

“But… Jackson’s exposed with that massive hole in the wall.” You replied, eyebrows furrowed in your confusion.

“I know,” Maria replied, your name falling from her lips in a slightly disheartened tone. “That’s the trouble with politics. People lose their common sense. We got another meeting tomorrow, I’m gonna convince them, don’t worry. Got a patrol in two hours, though. You alright with Tommy cooking?”

You nodded at her, frowning when she sighed again, exhausted down to her very bones. With slight hesitation, you followed along behind her as she made her way back to her house to see her son and husband before patrol.

When you arrived, Tommy was holding the baby to his chest, shaking his head as he spoke to the kid in a baby voice. You suppressed a snicker.

Maria cooed, reaching out for the baby, and grinning tiredly when he was finally placed in her arms. With a sympathetic expression, Tommy pressed a kiss to the top of her head, before you caught his eye, nodding your head toward the kitchen.

“Everythin’ alright, kiddo?” Tommy questioned, eyebrows furrowed in concern as you paced the length of his kitchen, before stopping and turning to him, looking nervous.

“I’ve been thinkin’,” You started, your expression just about stopping Tommy from making a stupid joke, “I wanna start going on patrols.”

He stopped suddenly, his whole body going still, and you looked at him with nervous eyes. It wasn’t that you were nervous about going — though you were, a little bit — it was that you were nervous he would say no.

Despite everything that had happened with Joel and Ellie, the slight meltdown back at that cabin before Jackson, it wasn’t about being out there. It wasn’t the Infected that lingered behind corners that scared you, and it wasn’t raiders that made fear settle in your bones, it was Joel and Ellie.

They had been all that you had — everybody else had been lost to the world, and you had longed for a time before all that loss, for the home you had with Joel and Tess, where danger lingered, sure, but not in the same way. They could avoid danger back at Boston QZ, could hide out in their apartment and settle with doing shitty FEDRA-issued jobs for a while if things got too hot.

Out in the world, there was no sense of control, no sense of safety, no matter where you went. You didn’t want to watch Joel and Ellie die like you had with Tess. Didn’t want to close your eyes and still see it, see flames climbing up the building that held one of the only people you cared for. You weren’t sure you could’ve handled losing anybody else, but Joel had forced that upon you, in the end.

By removing you from the outside world, placing you behind walls once again, he had just made your very worst fears come true. You had lost them.

So when you asked to go on patrols, you didn’t feel very scared. After all, you knew the world as well as anybody else, maybe even better than some of the people in Jackson. You knew how to shoot, how to stay quiet, how to spot things that often went unnoticed.

Before losing Tess, you had been good. Despite a few slip-ups here and there, you had been allowed on their rare smuggling trips for a reason. You’d known how to shoot a gun before you had known how to read, and it came naturally to you.

“Absolutely not.” Tommy answered, after a moment, his expression hardening and turning to stone, and you frowned at him.

“‘M only asking you because I was hoping to take on some of Maria’s patrols. She’s exhausted, she needs sleep, and she’s got a meeting tomorrow. She doesn’t need to be goin’ on some patrol right now.” You responded, feeling the usual fondness that came with speaking to him fall away, leaving your voice cold, as your expression went flat at his refusal.

He stayed silent for a few moments, gritting his teeth in a way that was far too reminiscent of his older brother, and he sighed. “No, we’ll find somebody else. You’re just a kid.”

“I’m better than half of the guys you usually take out.” You argued, still trying to keep your voice down, to prevent Maria from coming in and halting any conversation on the topic. “I can handle myself, Tommy.”

“Can you?”

“Yes! Who do you think handled that raider?” You countered immediately, feeling the heat of your anger push against your chest.

“That was different.” Tommy tried, holding his hands out toward you, getting increasingly frustrated as you stepped away from him.

“How was it different?” You snapped, “It wasn’t different. Stop trying to protect me, I’m not some dumb kid, Tommy. You are just as bad as Joel.”

Your words struck hard, and Tommy’s face hardened immediately after you spoke, his frustration growing into something closer to anger.

“Why, because I’m trying to keep you safe? Just like Joel did? It’s not a crime to want you to be okay! You gotta stop treatin’ us like we’re doin’ something wrong for protecting you!” Tommy argued back, and your expression fell when he grouped himself in with Joel.

“That— That was different.” You said, repeating his words back to him, and feeling something nervous press against your neck, your hands wringing together as you stood in front of the Miller, who suddenly resembled his older brother too much.

Maria entered the kitchen then, holding the baby tightly to her chest, and frowning as she looked at where you and Tommy stood at opposite sides of the room.

“What’s going on?” She asked, almost hesitantly.

“Nothin’,” Tommy answered, still looking at you with hard eyes, nothing changing on his expression. You grit your teeth together, feeling frustration cling to the back of your throat. “Right?”

You scoffed, and made your way past him, going straight to the front door and pulling it open roughly. Your eyebrows were furrowed as you stepped out, ignoring Tommy calling your name as you slammed the door shut behind you.

When you hurried away, shoes scuffing against the pathways of Jackson, you ignored how you saw Joel sat on his porch, and just hoped he’d mind his own business.

Two hours later, when there was a knock at your shop door, your eyebrows had furrowed immediately.

You weren’t sure who could be visiting you — Maria should’ve been on patrol already, and Tommy should’ve been back at home, looking after his son. You didn’t get any other visitors, at least, ones that were welcome.

When you opened the door, you saw Joel standing there, looking nervous. Your expression immediately flattened, eyebrows creasing further, and he stopped you before you could even open your mouth. “Wait,” Joel almost pleaded, and seemed close to relieved when you grit your teeth, staying quiet. “Maria asked me to bring this over, said somethin’ about Tommy covering a patrol.”

He held out a box, looking far too nervous for such a simple request, though you could understand. With your eyebrows relaxing slightly, you reached forward and plucked the box from his waiting hands, tilting it to the side to look through the transparent sides of the box at its contents.

When you noticed Joel still stood, unmoving, your eyebrows began to crease once again. “Well, thanks for bringing this over.” You said stiffly, hating how part of you wanted to let go of all of your anger, to pretend nothing ever happened, to just hug him.

You reminded yourself that he did this, that you were allowed to be angry. You had every right to be. You were allowed to scream and cry and shout, to hold on to that anger, to that feeling of being left behind.

It felt like a betrayal to yourself, to still want to be around him, and it hurt even more that he still made you feel safe.

“No problem.” He said, hesitantly, like he wanted to say something else, to continue, to broach the subject of the elephant in the room, but he held himself back. You weren’t sure what was worse, what you preferred more. Him acting like a stranger, or him acting too familiar.

You were so conflicted, over everything. You felt fractured into hundreds of tiny pieces, each individually feeling something different, shouting for their own way. Parts of you wanted to cry and let him comfort you, whilst others screamed for you to yell at him some more, for you to beg and plead for him to feel that hollowness that you had felt when he’d left you. Part of you wanted answers, wanted an explanation that would be enough, that would justify it, but you knew Joel didn’t have one.

For him, he knew it had been the right decision. He felt some peace of mind, knowing you would be safe within the walls, at his brother’s side. But it still pained him, the way you had fractured away from him, and he had let you slip through his fingers. It left a kind of emptiness in him, knowing that you believed he had abandoned you. You believed he had failed you. Joel was scared that you might be right.

“Well,” He cleared his throat, shoving his now empty hands deep into his pockets, and he nodded at you, the action paining him. “I’ll, uh, head off, then.”

You nodded, watching him step back and turn to go before you closed the shop door, missing the way he turned back to say something, only to be faced with a closed door. He heard the lock turn.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It had taken three days for Tommy to crack.

He didn’t like the silence between the two of you, it made his neck feel itchy, his heart race uncomfortably. He worried about you, more than he had even realised himself.

So when you looked at him, eyebrows raised expectantly, he couldn’t help but relent. You were stubborn, even now, and you really did remind him of Joel with that expression on your face. Tommy wondered if you knew just how many mannerisms you’d picked up from his older brother, but thought better than to mention it.

“Okay, fine.” He gritted, his gaze steely even as he watched your face light up in victory, “But—”

“But?” You echoed, incredulously.

“But you’re only going on a patrol if one of us is on it, too.” Tommy continued, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes at your interruption. When he saw your annoyance, he fixed his statement slightly, “At least to start with. We’ll get you some trainin’, on the horses and guns, then we’ll see where we are.”

You smiled, and as much as Tommy hated to let you get your way in this, he was just glad to see you smiling at him again. “Thanks, Tommy.” You said, letting him reach over and pay your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He grumbled.

“Hey, I made you something.” You told him suddenly, face seemingly lighting up further as you thought of whatever it was. Tommy raised his eyebrows suspiciously, tapping his fingers against the wooden table in the middle of your shop. “I know how much you loved hearing about them, so.”

You held up a box, filled with five mugs, some slightly misshapen, but holding the vague shape of a regular old mug. The handles were difficult, he recalled you telling him, and he could see it reflected in your work, the handles wonky, or curved into a strange shape. He smiled nonetheless, unable to help the laugh that escaped him.

“Well, I never.” He said, amused, and picked up one of the mugs, with a sloppily painted bear on the front. “You figured out the glaze, then?”

“Kinda. Thought it was gonna be blue.” You replied, pointing at the mug with an orangey brown owl painted on. “But I like it.”

“Me too, kiddo, me too. Say, Maria’s gonna be thrilled.” Tommy grinned, putting the mug he was holding back into the box before taking it off of your hands, rolling his eyes when you cautioned him.

“Well, let me know, yeah?” You asked, despite knowing that she was going to love them no matter what they looked like, simply because you made them. You had noticed that about her. You could probably hand her a chunk of clay, which barely resembled anything other than what it was, and she’d thank you for it.

“I will do. You’re comin’ for dinner later, right?” He questioned, gripping onto the box tighter with one hand, so he could free up his other one to place his hand on the door.

“Think I’ll just eat at the hall, tonight. You guys should come, too. Maria does far too much cooking.” You suggested, shrugging his shoulders when he looked offended, as if he should cook more. “Please, do not even go in the kitchen. The baby’s too young to be subjected to the smell of your cooking.” You joked, laughing when he huffed, exiting the house while yelling about not letting you come around anymore.

You shook your head, grabbing a chunk of clay you had cut off from the slab earlier, and dumping it on the wheel.

These people would be the death of you, you were sure, as your chest warmed from the interaction.

PART FOUR

#joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x you #tlou one shot #pedro pascal angst #tlou imagines #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #joel miller father figure #joel miller fic #joel miller imagines #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal imagines #tlou imagine #tommy miller angst #tommy miller fluff #heartpascal writes

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ashrayus · 3 months ago

Note

PLSSSS MORE FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS OF JASON TODDDD!

DUDEE!!!! really happy u asked but also omg this got long agaiN who would have thought (!) i added summaries this time tho :)

here is part one of my fic recs XD

andd heres the new ones!! pls give them some love if u read them :D

Dick and Jason:

how lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill by sunlitlemonade

There were blood drops dripping down his fingers to the ground. The puddle was big enough for it to have spread around more than half the tub. His breaths shuddered, they were shallow and waning. But he was breathing and Dick’s world centered around that.

starting strong with Angst go read all of sun’s fics i always die and get revived <333 pls mind the tags on this one

cast on/cast off by hellsreluctantheir

“This is surprisingly non-destructive for Jason,” Dick comments, lightly. In the parking lot, Jason pulls a grenade out of one of his pockets, yanks the pin, and tosses it through the roller door and out of sight, before tearing out of the parking lot in chase of the truck. “Well, for a minute there,” Dick amends. He takes a step back towards the alley the batmobile is parked in, giving Bruce a quick glance. “We following? “No,” Bruce says, as the grenade goes off. “He’s cleared the warehouse. We can get into the office.” Dick sighs again. But Jason knows he can call in if he needs help.

time loop!!! read most of this writer's fics and fell in love with them all,, go read fr

bloodstained by hellsreluctantheir

“I know where the clinic is, asshole,” Jason said. The wad of gauze he was using to keep pressure kept slipping against his shoulder. The knife had caught the space between two panels, split to allow movement. Lucky shot. “Ok, let me make sure you get there without passing out from blood loss,” Dick said, a deliberate evenness to his tone, like he was doing his best to accomodate someone who was being completely unreasonable. Shithead. “I’m not going to pass out,” Jason said, ignoring the fact that he was actually feeling pretty unsteady on his feet. He caught himself with his good shoulder on the entry to the bathroom, took a deep breath. “What would Daddy Bats think if he knew you were here, trying to help me?” “I assume something like, ‘Wow, Dick, you’re such a good brother, trying so hard to make sure Jason is ok even when he’s being a complete idiot about it,’” Dick sniped.

heres another one from them. jasons scars and dick. andd another one next

brothers in arms by hellsreluctantheir

It wasn’t like none of them went undercover. Jason practically lived there. And he’d punch anyone who tried to make it a sob story for him, to cluck over the times he’d been alone in a pit of vipers, act like it was some tragedy. But given half a minute to think about it, Dick somewhere completely cut off from everyone but Bruce, no allies on hand, surrounded by enemies. Angry as he was at the lie, there was something about that he just fucking hated. or Thinking your brother is dead and then finding out he's been alive the whole time really has a way of making you rethink the relationship.

Shelter by Ptelea

Two safe houses, two nights dealing with the aftermath of fear toxin, multiple conversations, several meals. Written for Sholio's September 2020 Comfort Fest for a prompt from Musesfool. Warning-wise, there's nothing graphic here but there are definitely references to past canon trauma for both the characters.

the way they are written here <33

Rotten Fruits by couldyoublameme

“I’m fine,” Dick assured gently, sitting up slightly. “Just a bad night, is all.” It’s a familiar phrase he has used so often. Whenever the addiction crawls back into his mind, a parasite he can never truly get rid of. The family knows what it means. Knows what the ‘bad’ is. Knows what to do. “Oh,” Jason says. “Why?”

absolutely murdered me. pls do mind the tags

You Can Do Better Than That by AlexaAffect

All Jason could hear was his own ragged breathing. He desperately gasped for air, each breath more exhausting than the last and his lungs and throat burned with the effort. In. And, he needed a second longer with every breath he took, out. His arms had been suspended for the last… 15? minutes? Jason had quit keeping track of the time, he’d been too preoccupied trying to hold himself upright, trying to ease his position, switch it up, anything to prolong the guaranteed death. “Red Hood?” That was Dick’s voice. Huh. So they had found him fast enough. Or alternatively; Dick finds a kidnapped Jason shortly before he asphyxiates.

this fic is just oddly comforting to me idk. very precious

Equivalent Exchange by Lysical

Apparently favors don't expire on death. --"What do you want, Dick?" "For you to be happy, Jay." Dick leaned over and pinched his cheek. Jason reached up and swiped at him, scowling. "And world peace."

ADORABLE and fun

Just for Now by Lysical

Jason was back in Gotham and the timing couldn't be worse for him to need assistance on a case. He didn't want to see any of the Bats and he was sure the feeling was mutual. Nightwing was the worst option for Oracle to pick to help him out.

To Reconcile by CasualDanger

“Babs slapped me at your funeral.” Jason goes to laugh, but it’s just a cough and his mouth barely even twitches up. “She hated me in that moment. I mean, really, really hated me, like I did Talia after I found out Damian had died. And I wondered,” his voice cracks, eyes glassy now, “did you hate anyone when I was gone? Because I was gone?”

he ain't heavy, he's my brother by someplacewarm

Dick's been putting off meeting with Jason for a while now, but when a distress call comes through, he has no choice but to answer. Or the one where Dick and Jason talk, fight, get high and cuddle. In that order.

making gold out of it by vmkhoney

Dick talks himself back down on the bathroom floor, clinical and detached. (For someone whose primary skill is manipulating his body, it’s not very often that he feels connected to it.) - Or, five years after Blockbuster, Dick begins teetering on the ledge of processing what Catalina did to him.

a wonderful dick grayson fic, and jason is there being a good brother. mind the tags

What Hurts You by blueyeti

Dick comes to Jason's aid when he's injured in a fight, or at least he thinks he has.

jason has no scars!! and thats also sad

at me, too, someone is looking by bacondoughnut

Dick Grayson knows he's got problems when the Red Hood's busted leg somehow becomes his concern. aka; How Dick Grayson finds out Jason Todd is alive. A story about healing.

a rather long one for my standards XD (very short attention span) but this made me sit down and read. very fun jason

Bruce and Jason:

Saltwater and Desperation by bacondoughnut

Jason's not sure how he even manages to get himself out of the harbor. He's just glad Bruce is there when he does. Not that he'll ever, ever admit as much out loud.

same writer, love this jason (and bruce) so much

Insomnolence by navree

It's not like he slept much as a kid anyway; this is just a return to the status quo. He's not overly tired, and even if he's been sleeping less than his already limited amount throughout April, that's still not any of her business. Bad memories are already bad enough even before they spend the next few years in the aftermath becoming nightmares.

navree being The bruce and jason writer for me all of their fics are so o(- (

Ash Into The Wind by navree

This is his dad in there, the first man he ever called Dad, at any rate, and even after everything, booze and jail and Bruce and death and then death again, there's never going to be a part of Jason that isn't gutted that he's dead. One night, a wraith in a red helmet slips onto the grounds of Blackgate Penitentiary to steal one specific thing.

another one from them

Trapped by lurkinglurkerwholurks

BatFam Week 2018, Day Two. Prompt: Trapped Yes, the prompt is "trapped" and it's a Jason fic. I'm so, so sorry. (Not really, though.) Please see tags for potential triggers.

binge read this writers fics recently they write them so nice

Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies

Bruce swallows, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he takes another, steadying breath and presses both hands to his face. He just needs a moment. Needs to remember where he is, what year it is, that Jason is not actually fifteen, he only looks like he is. This is temporary. This is just a temporary problem that needs to be contained until they can change Jason back. This is not a repeat of events already passed. This is not a second chance.

Jason and Batfam:

Names and Neapolitan by Muddell

“Goddamnnit Robin,” Hood is there, pulling him into his arms. Robin sees that helmet, he sees the green eyes, the dark hair, he sees open, gray, Gotham sky, and hears tires squealing, and then he sees stone. He sees the cave. Bruce is there. Alfred is there. Dick is there. And Hood is there. Robin rolls in and out of consciousness. He reaches out, snatches the smell of copper and the touch of leather, and he holds Hood’s hand and he does not let go. He’s allowed to say it now. “Jason,” he says. “Don’t leave.” Or, following Dick telling Tim about his older brother, to Tim actually knowing him.

read a couple fics from this writer all so good!!!

Six Ways to Sunday by Muddell

Jason catches Duke hiding a headache and says, is anyone going to deal with that?

same writer!! really love their jason

Settle Down and Sleep by OberonBronze

A series of vignettes about seeking comfort. Damian tries his hand at being a comfort animal; Tim shows up at Jason’s place for an impromptu sleepover; Jason bonds with his older brother after a damaging fear toxin trip; Dick and Bruce have a long-overdue conversation.

really liked jason and dick in this :)

Tuck Me In by OberonBronze

Bruce Wayne and his long-standing habit of tucking his kids into bed.

think how great it is to fall asleep (and how terrible it is to wake up) by mikkal

Jason was fifteen, barely five foot, and underweight for his age when he died. When he came back to his body, suddenly he was too tall, too scarred, too much, too different. And he just... never got used to it. (Or: 5 times a Bat noticed/discovered his body dysphoria post resurrection)

Stranger Danger by alchemistsarego, whumpinaheartbeat (alchemistsarego)

There was never one particular moment that Damian registered that he was losing consciousness. Everything simply flashed from one thing to the next, even though some part of him understood that time had been passing in between. He had been sitting upright, rolling his eyes at something someone had said, then he was on the ground being pinned by some unknowable weight. All at once the weight was gone again, replaced instead by something not only lighter, but much warmer too. A blanket? No, a jacket.

jason and others:

Past Experience by Rookblonkorules

He thinks he might be dying. Again.

clark and jason :)

Bats in the Belfry by endlessnepenthe

Hal idly wonders how long he has before he's found. Probably not very. The Bat's freaky like that. (Or, Hal goes to Gotham and discovers that Batman's brand of freaky isn't exactly one of a kind.)

jason and hal jordan??! and slade? and magic.

#jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #dc #jason todd fic #fic rec

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artiststarme · 1 year ago

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Dead or Alive

After Spring Break, no one could find Eddie Munson dead or alive. His Uncle Wayne, the angry mob, even the police couldn’t locate him so everyone assumed he was dead. Some grieved his loss but most celebrated his apparent demise believing it to be what he deserved after killing Chrissy, Fred, Patrick, and Jason and hurting poor Max Mayfield.

Once the town recovered enough, Wayne bought a headstone for an empty grave and dutifully washed off the new graffiti that appeared each day. The kids of the Party mourned the loss of their idealistic Dungeon Master and disbanded Hellfire Club out of respect to him. And Robin and Steve disappeared to Steve’s empty house to grieve the loss of a friend (or so it seemed).

Because while everyone thought they were grieving and finding support in each other, they were actually caring for Eddie’s wounds and watching gay movies on Steve’s couch. They are junk food, cuddled in front of the TV, and appreciated being alive.

Steve couldn’t be around the party because he was supposed to be broken-hearted but it was the opposite. While he left the Upside Down the most recent time with more scars, both mental and physical, it also gave him everything he’d ever wanted. It took him away from the job he hated, gave him more time to spend with Robin, and it gave him a prospective boyfriend.

He felt bad keeping Eddie a secret away from the kids and his uncle but he had no other choice. Until he and Robin could brainstorm a logical explanation for his innocence and return from the dead, it’d be the three of them in hiding. Which to him, wasn’t a bad thing. Between the love of Robin and Eddie, his house felt less like a crypt and more like a home.

After a few weeks, they’d all gotten used to their solitary. Imagine their surprise when someone walks in on the three of them watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show right on the scene of Rocky showing off his fishnet clad calves. Imagine Officer Phil Callahan’s horror when his eyes landed on an injured homicidal maniac sitting half on his brother’s lap while drooling over Tim Curry. And imagine Steve’s mortification when his brother stood unmoving in the doorway of the living room with one hand on his hip and the other held over his open mouth in shock.

“WHAT IN THE FUCK IS EDWARD MUNSON DOING IN OUR PARENT’S LIVING ROOM?!” Phil shrieked, his face going red in barely concealed rage.

Steve, Eddie, and Robin all spoke at once.

“Is he? Oh my goodness, I didn’t notice. Steve, Eddie is in your house!”

“It’s just Eddie, you piece of shit.”

“Ok technically, I can explain.”

Phil just looked at them like all three of them were insane. “HE’S A KILLER!”

“No he’s not. He’s just a metalhead, Phil.”

“What is that supposed to do with anything, Steve?! I don’t care that he’s a metalhead, I care that he murdered at least three people in a week!”

Steve shot up from his seat so he was nearly eye-level with Phil. “Woah, he did not! I was with him the entire week and neither of us killed anyone.”

Phil just shook his head in confused exhaustion. “Is he dangerous?”

Steve looked him directly in the eye, “no! He didn’t do anything and he’s one of my best friends now.”

“Fine. I’m not dealing with this shit tonight. You,” he pointed at Eddie, “don’t kill anyone. And Steve, do not wake me up before ten AM unless someone is getting killed. Jesus Christ.”

He stomped up the stairs, grumbling under his breath the entire way. Meanwhile, Steve sat back down next to Eddie and gave him a small smile. “Well, that went better than expected.”

Eddie looked at him in disbelief, “did it Steve? Did it?”

(It, in fact, did not. The next morning, Steve had to tackle Phil away from the phone when he tried to call the chief and then had to hold him down while Robin rambled the entire story in an impressive four minutes. He only gave up once Steve threatened to disappear himself and Eddie (and Robin) forever without ever contacting Phil again.)

Should I make this into a longer fic? Let me know in the comments please!

#everyone else finds out that Eddie is still alive after Callahan helps to clear his name #him and Steve and Robin still move away but Phil acts as a protective big brother and goes with them #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #officer callahan is steve’s brother

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sophswritingthings · 1 year ago

Note

Jealous mizu, or possessive mizu please. 🥺😭🫶.

pairing: possessive/protective!mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): mizu tries to do murder again but this time is reprimanded for her attempt, swearing

a/n: oh gladly, anon- don’t have to ask me twice

word count: 445 words / 2,376 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you and mizu walk down the streets, looking for a certain brothel along these roads. madam kaji’s for the peculiar.

mizu’s hand is tight around your waist, as it always is. ready to spring on anyone who dare try to touch you. and you knew she would, sometimes she’d come home soaked in blood that wasn’t her own. a lot of the time, actually, now that you thought about it.

and at this point; you didn’t dare try and fight it off. plus, her touch kept you warm in the cold winter.

sliding into the brothel where your lover demanded to see the madam, you began getting..

.. looks.

the other men in the brothel, even if being tended to by other women, had their eyes on you. the sight made you uncomfortable, squeezing just a bit closer to mizu’s side.

she noticed this, while walking into the back of the brothel.

and when she noticed it.. you could see her expression devolve into pure anger.

never did she wear that expression around you; her face would always be something of soft when around you. it was the first time you’d seen such an angry expression in a while.

“.. excuse me,” her raspy voice rang throughout the brothel. “eyes up. she’s taken.”

a gentle blush devolves on your cheeks, adverting you’re gaze with the tiniest of smiles.

It’s silent. very quiet.

“I’m sure a samurai such as yourself wouldn’t mind sharing,” one voice calls out.

“sharing what? you talk about her like she’s a meal,” she scoffs, letting go of your body and strolling toward the man. you watched as she went, a bit concerned as to what she was going to do.

you see her hand go to her sword.

“mizu!” you call out, eyes narrowed, “no.”

her eyes narrow, as if your words were not going to stop her. but she sighs, giving into your wishes and walking back over to you. her arm wraps around your waist again, dragging you away from the main room.

you sit, nestled in the corner.

you laugh a little, “you can’t kill every guy that as much as looks at me, mizu.”

she raised an eyebrow, “I can’t?”

you actually couldn’t tell if she was asking genuinely or not.

“no—you can’t,” you shook your head. “that’s a lot of people.”

she scoffs playfully, “oh, it is?” she placed a little kiss on your head, “you’re too pretty not to look at, then?”

you giggle, “exactly,” you smile up at her.

she sighs, “you’re not entirely wrong.”

you rest your head on her shoulder, her arm still around your waist as you waited for the madam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu #blue eyed samurai #x reader #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #ask #asked and answered #request #fic request

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coryosbaby · 2 years ago

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Sweet Serial Killer *ੈ✩‧ Young! Gf! Nick Goode x reader (1)

“𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓵 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓻

𝓓𝓸 𝓲𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓱,

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱! “

Summary: Murders are happening around Camp Nightwing, and you’ll do anything for your best friend Nick.

Warning: mentions of murder & violence, dubious consent, yandere! Nick, possessiveness, obsessive behavior, mentions of pedophilia (NOT by nick), pictures without consent, toxic relationship asf, god complex, male masturbation, oral (m & f recieving), p n v, breeding kink, dumbification, size kink, daddy kink, missionary, riding, the reader is very dependable on Nick, loss of virginity, creampie, marking, squirting, dom! Nick, sub! Reader

Nick isn’t an inherently violent person.

But when he meets you in the summer of ‘76, all of that is thrown out the window.

You’re a camper. And no, you aren’t a child; you’re eighteen years old. Nick is twenty, beginning as his first year as a counselor. At Camp Nightwing, it’s taboo for a counselor and camper to become romantically involved. But Jesus, Nick just can’t help but be so in love when he looks at you. Your cabin is right next to his, and he sees your sweet ass everyday, watches you strut around with him on his off days and have fun. You’ve both grown incredibly close. And if anyone messes with you, they have to deal with him.

And waves of intense rage aren’t new to him. But right now, he has still never been so incredibly angry.

He watches as a camper, some guy named Alex and around your age, torments you; pulls your hair, calls you names, makes fun of your makeup. And it makes his blood boil. You’re so precious, so much of an angel. No one needs to treat you this way. He approaches, quickly breaking it up. On the outside, his demeanor is calm, is safe.

To you, Nick will always be safe.

Alex scurries away quickly when Nick starts murmuring threats through clenched teeth. Tears are running down your face, and Nick brings his arm around your shoulder and guides you to his empty cabin. You bury his face in his neck when you’re both finally alone on his bed. He pulls you away and begins to stroke your tearful face soothingly.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “I know. It’s okay, honey. That fuckin’ asshole..” he looks at you with slight concern for a moment. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You sniffle, and shake your head. “He p-pulled my hair, a little bit. But I’m fine.”

If Nick had any previous guilt about his plans for tonight, they’re all gone now.

“Okay..” he smiles, a small laugh leaving his lips as he runs his hands over the outer corners of your eyes.

“You ruined your makeup.”

You frown, worried. “Do I look bad?”

“What? No, not at all.” How could you ever think you look bad? “You look.. you look really pretty, y/n.”

“Oh.” your face flushes, and you smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He replies. And then,after that, you lay down on his bed and he reads you your favorite book while you curl up on his left side. It’s one of the things he does to help you feel better, to make you feel even more protected and safe with him.

And then later that night, the first murder at Camp Nightwing takes place.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The next day the talk is all around camp. Alex, the boy that had harassed you the day before, is dead.

You’re in shock. No one has ever died at the camp before; it’s full of teenagers and kids doing arts and crafts, after all. In a situation like this, they should close down the camp. But the death itself was confirmed to be an accident; he had somehow slipped off of a cliff beside the lake that campers weren’t allowed to approach, and had hit his head on the rocky floor below. A counselor had found him that day, and there were rumors that it was incredibly brutal; his head was completely smashed to pieces.

Some people, however, believe it wasn’t an accident. There were rumors that a few campers saw someone in a black robe and a weird mask that resembled that of a ghost. But those were just rumors, for now.

You shove the thought that Alex deserved what he got down into your gut, and decide to feel bad for him.

“I just don’t get it,” you explain to Nick the next day, in the empty art room. “Why would you even go over there? It’s like, the most dangerous spot.”

Nick shrugs as you refer to Alex, as he knots a new bracelet for the third time that day.

“Dunno,” he replies. “Like I said, he was an idiot.”

His tone and the use of the word ‘was’ makes bile rise in your throat, but you change the topic to the task at hand.

If anyone knows you, you’re just a little… dumb. So, Nick helps you with your crafts in your art activities everyday, always teaches you new things because you’re interested and don’t know how. It’s not just in this field, where you depend on him; he helps you with practically everything, even feeds you from time to time. He knows how to take care of you, how to keep you satisfied and happy.

He watches as you struggle to tie a knot in the bracelet that you’re creating, watches as you slam it down onto the table and make a sound of frustration. He chuckles, amused.

“Having fun?”

“Fuck off, Nick.” You snap . You immediately begin to apologize, not meaning to have sounded so rude.

“Im so sorry!”

“Don’t apologize, y/n. It’s okay, I promise.”

He hates when you feel as if you’ve said something wrong around him. You could never anger him.

“It’s just…” you rub your eyes, careful not to destroy your glittery makeup. “I can’t.. I can’t make the bracelet. It’s not working.”

“That’s okay,” Nick assures. “I can teach you. It’s okay, here-“

His fingers move to grab the strings from you, maneuvering the plastic stand it’s attached to so he can gain better access. He looks down at the instructions.

“Yeah, this knot is complicated,” it’s not, but you don’t need to know that. “All you’re doing wrong is not looping it around. If you just..”

He smiles as he grabs your cherry red nails into his larger set of hands. He brings them down and shows you the proper way to tie the bracelet, and you squeal in victory when you’re finally done. It’s a little jagged along a section, but it isn’t too bad.

“See! I knew you could do it. You’re such a quick learner.” Nick praises. You flush.

“Thank you.”

He watches as you tie the ends. And then, you’re nervously looking towards him.

“I want you to have it.. i-if that’s okay!”

Nick beams, happily snatching the bracelet from your hands and slipping it onto his wrist.

“Thank you, angel. I love it.”

He picks up one of the bracelets he made and insists that you wear it too. He ties the ends for you, and slips it around your wrist. You smile. And then, with ease, he brings his lips down to your wrist and places a kiss to it. The nervous lip bite you give him makes his cock harden in his pants, but he chooses to ignore it for now. You smell so sweet, the perfume on your wrists making his eyes practically roll back. It’s so you, and he can’t get enough of it.

“Do you want to go back to my cabin?”

The words make you stutter, knowing that the cabin is empty and that everyone is away at another camping activity at the lake. But alas, you utter a quick ‘yes’. When you get inside he guides you to sit down at the head of his bed so he can read to you again. But once he gets through a couple paragraphs of The Great Gatsby, you’re already leaning onto his shoulder sleepily.

“Tired?” He asks.

“Mhm.”

“C’mere.”

He grabs one of your arms and slings it over his chest. You sigh happily, shoving your face into his shirt as he moves down to lay flat on the bed.

“Go to sleep. I’ll wake you up when it’s time for dinner.”

“Okay, Nicky. Thank you.”

Oh, how precious.

Your soft snores fill the room as you sleep. Time ticks by, but Nick can’t seem to keep still as much as he wants to. So, gently, he removes himself from underneath you and pulls his blanket over your shoulders as you turn over in your sleep. He watches as your tits seem to practically spill out of your tank top. His breath catches in his throat. It’s not that noticeable because it’s on your lower side, but your nipple has seemed to slip out of the fabric.

The thing he does next is probably incredibly wrong. But who can blame him, with you looking like that?

His hands go down to palm the bulge in his pants. He breathes heavily, lip getting caught in his teeth as he watches your slow moving breath and beautiful face. He brings his hands into his pants and begins to stroke himself with vigor.

He knows it’s incredibly risky. You’re his best friend, and if he gets caught doing this you might not be anymore. But precum spills over his fist and he thrusts into his own palm mercilessly. He starts to imagine scenarios with you in them: taking your tits into his mouth, sucking on those pert little nipples that he loves to see peeking through your shirt. Fucking that tight little pussy he knows you have, while you’re on all fours and your ass is bouncing back against his abs. And then, lastly, watching your little cunt get stretched beyond its boundaries as he impales you, your virgin blood coating his cock and leaving your creamy spend on him. This makes him keen, and then he’s stuffing his fist into his mouth as he cums all over the inside of his briefs. You begin to stir, not quite waking up, but it makes Nick’s mouth water even more at the thought of you catching him. You don’t wake up, however. You’re always such a deep sleeper.

Nick sighs, moving into the bathroom to wash off his hands and then change into a new pair of underwear.

And then, when he’s next to his dress, he catches sight of his camera.

It’s a Polaroid camera, a dark brown that he keeps with him whenever he wants to take picture of the camp’s scenery.

But maybe it can be used for other sights.

He remembers to turn the flash off, and then he snaps a picture of your sleeping form. And then, another. And another. And another. All at different angles, some far away, some so close that it’s a surprise that you don’t hear the click of the device and wake up. When he’s done he gathers up all of the pictures that have been printed and shoves them into his drawer full of shirts, next to another set of pictures. Ones that consist of a boy in water, with his head missing.

He checks on the clock on the wall. It’s dinner time, now.

He goes over and lightly shakes you. It takes a few minutes of this before your eyes finally crack open.

“C’mon, sweets, you gotta wake up,” he murmurs. “It’s time for dinner.”

You blink, wiping the sleep away from your eyes and smearing your makeup in the process again. But when you get up and look in the mirror, you choose not to acknowledge it.

You don’t even notice the anxious look Nick gives you when you ask for some of his clothes and reach into his t-shirt drawer. He’s so thankful that he hid the photos in the very back, because you don’t find them.

He makes a mental note to move them to a place where no one would think to look.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The next day Tommy Slater teaches you archery.

You’ve see the boy around, not really ever talking, but he’s sweet, with nice hair and a pretty smile. He holds your arms in the right position as he helps you pull back the strings of the bow. When you pull it back, it’s the first time ever that you hit the target. You pull him into a hug, and his hands go down to your waist as he asks if he can buy you a cherry coke from the vending machines.

Nick watches the whole thing with displeasure when you say yes.

No one really notices, but Nick just always seems to be around you, even though there’s a whole other side of camp to be taught. It’s a surprise, really, that the boy can keep his job. If it wasn’t for the extra class he teaches everyday and his father being the sheriff, he’d probably be fired.

Nick really hasn’t had that much of a problem with Tommy before. He’s a nice guy, and they get along well whenever they work together. Hell, Tommy was even his bunkmate for a while before he decided to switch and room with his brother, Will.

But he’s talking to you. And he’s being a little too nice, too touchy to see you as a regular camper or friend.

And Nick can’t have that, can he?

So a week later, after you had started to grow close with the boy, Tommy Slater is found with a noose around his neck. A suicide, of course. It’s incredibly unfortunate for you; you cry about it, not leaving your cabin all day over the death of your new friend when you find out the news.

Of course, Nick is there to comfort you. He doesn’t leave your side, and stays with you for the entirety of the day while you sleep on top of his shirtless, warm body.

He’s such a good friend.

You sigh as you roll yourself out of your bed. You’re exhausted, mentally. Nick had begged you to come to dinner with him, but to no avail after many minutes of struggling. You figure right about now that the best thing to do is your makeup. Something that sounds incredibly stupid, but it helps you relieve a lot of stress. You bring yourself back over to your bed with your makeup bag and begin to apply a full face.

You jump, almost smearing your eyeliner, when Nick opens the door. Although you shouldn’t get excited at a time like this, you smile when you see an ice cream cone in one of his hands.

“Finally getting up?” He teases. You nod.

“I guess so. No use getting hung up, right? We..” you’re trying to seem positive, but the image of Tommy’s body hanging from the ceiling brings bile to your throat. You swallow it down as you apply a layer of blush and grab the ice cream cone from Nick. “Me and Tommy weren’t even that close.”

Nick shrugs, sitting down beside you and resting his head on your shoulder to watch you apply your mascara.

“He’s in a better place now, y/n.” The boy assures.

You nod in agreement, but you’re still a bit upset. You shake the thoughts out of your head and lick at the ice cream cone. Nick watches some it drip down your chin, and he imagines what it would be like to stuff your mouth full.

“So,” He starts. His eyes never leave your mouth. “Are you going on the camping trip tonight?”

Every Saturday, campers go deeper into the woods and camp out. You know Nick enjoys it, but the thought of sleeping in a tent with no air conditioner tonight does not sound like fun.

“Probably not.” You reply.

“That’s okay.” Nick assures. He can tell by the look on your face that you feel bad for ditching him. “On second thought, how about I stay here with you tonight? I know you don’t like to be in the dark alone.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not scared of the dark, I’m scared of what’s in the dark! But also, won’t you get in trouble?”

“Whatever you say, sweetness.” Nick replies. “But I’m staying. I’ll just say I’m sick. ”

“That’s…good. I want you here.” And it’s true, as you utter the words. Nick smiles, and watches as you get up to throw away the ice cream cone (one of your weird quirks that Nick has picked up is that you only like the ice cream itself, and not the cone). When you bend down to drop it into the trash can, your shorts ride up and the soft globes of your ass are exposed. Nick exhales sharply.

You hear him, and turn around to look at him in concern. “Are you okay?”

Nick coughs, eyes averting from you as his cheeks glaze over into a dusty pink. “Yeah! It’s just a little stuffy in here, that’s all.”

“Oh.” You frown. “Do you want to go to your cabin instead? You have a better air conditioner, anyway.” And then your eyes light up. “And you have a radio! We can listen to music tonight!”

Nick chuckles at your excitement. He knows you enjoy music. “Yeah, honey.”

“Yay!”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

It’s not long before almost everyone in camp is away, and you and Nick are alone. Although the trip is optional, very few people decide to stay behind. Will had left, his eyes lingering on you a bit too long as he tells Nick to ‘have fun’. Nick’s eyes had narrowed at his tone, and he had put a possessive grip on you as he guided you to his radio so he could teach you how to use it.

And that night, Nick introduces you to weed.

It’s not something you’re opposed to, you’ve just never got around to it. And when Nick pulls out a small bag of the skunk smelling drug, you’re happy to get high with him.

You giggle as Nick runs his fingers over your legs in a teasing manner. He knows your ticklish behind your knees, and of course he isn’t going to ignore the chance of getting to touch you. His radio plays ‘Fear The Reaper’ in a blaring tone, and the both of your eyes are red rimmed and watery. You move away from his hands and off to bed to explore the things in his room, dazed.

And then you catch sight of his camera.

You pick it up, and feel the plastic device with your fingertips.

“I’ve never seen you with this,” you say. “Is it new?”

Nick lifts his body up off of the bed to look at you.

“No, I’ve had it for a while.” He replies.

“Oh.” and then, your hands begin to flimsily play with the buttons.

Nick grins. “Do you want me to take pictures of you?”

The question catches you off guard, but the look on his face, begging, can’t make you say no.

“If you want.”

“That’s great,” Nick pauses, hesitant. “Can you get on the bed for me?”

“Yes sir.”

You don’t mean to say it, really, but you just want to follow his directions. You think he’s going to be freaked out, but all he does is give you a sweet smile.

“Good girl.”

Your face flushes, and your twiddle your fingers as you begin to climb onto the bed. You move your hair so it rests behind your shoulders, and smile. Nick snaps it, the perfect view of you on your knees for him. You move to another position, sideways, and tilt your head back.

So cute, Nick thinks. And all mine.

By the third or fourth, you’re comfortable enough to not be shy.

“Is this good?” You ask. You’re leaning forward now, on your knees once again. Nick can see your cleavage at this angle, and he thinks you’re the most sexiest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

“Perfect.” And then, another pause before he speaks. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blanch, as if that’s the first time he’s ever said it. You look up at him with a look he can’t quite place.

“Do you really think so?”

“I think you’re perfect.”

Dazed and Confused by Led Zepplin is playing on the radio now. The tension in the room grows intensely, in this moment, as Nick utters the words. It’s as if it’s never been experienced before. It has, many times, but usually there was someone or something to interrupt that tension.

So now, all that Nick can think to do is throw the camera onto the bed, move over to you, lean down, and press his lips to yours.

It’s probably a dumb idea, but if it goes the opposite of the way Nick wants then he can just blame it on the mary jane in his system.

But you kiss back. The boy suspects you’ve never been kissed before, because your lips move awkwardly against his. It’s endearing to him, and he moves to press himself closer to you. You moan against him when he begins to climb on top of you. He pulls away, his thighs caging your hips down. He grabs your hands and moves them above your head.

“You’ve never done this before , have you?”

You look away shyly, shaking your head as you do so to signal the word ‘no’. He grabs your face with his strong hands and guides you too gaze at him again.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, y/n. Yes.. or no?”

Your lip gets caught in between your teeth as he looks down at you hungrily.

“No.” You utter softly.

He tuts, bring his hand down to your hip and rubbing the soft skin there.

“So no one’s ever touched you here? Hm?”

You shake your head.

“Poor baby.” His hand moves down further. He’s ghosting his fingers over the crotch of your shorts. You squirm, a small squeak leaving your mouth when he presses on your clit through the fabric. “What about here, baby? Anyone ever played with this little clit before?”

“N-Nick, c’mon-“

“Who? Are you lying to me? Has someone touched you here?” His tone is demanding, now, angry. You look up at him with wide eyes. He’s always been so gentle with you, and his attitude now shock you.

“No..” and then, softly, “no sir. I promise.”

He calms, a small smirk beginning to play on his lips. He rubs, gentle and slow, on your clit. You mewl, hands going up to his hair for leverage as he teases you.

“Such good manners. Being such a good girl.”

His fingers leave you. You whine in protest, beginning to grab his hand and put it back where it was, but he pushes your grip away. He chuckles.

“No, no. You’re going to do something for me first.”

Your face goes red, when he grabs your hand and presses it against his girth.

“You feel that, baby?” He’s taunting, watching as your mouth opens on instinct and your soft wet tongue lolls out. “Feel what you did?”

“Yes. Yes, daddy, I-“

The word that leaves your mouth isn’t intentional, but when it does it has Nick groaning, thrusting his hips up into your hand.

“God, that’s it. You want me to be your daddy, baby? Wanna be my little girl?”

You nod, eagerly, and you begin to move to unbuckle his jeans. He makes a noise of disapproval, though.

“No. Stay right here.”

And then he’s moving off the bed and to the foot of it, beginning to unbuckle his belt. He beckons you over, but stops you when you begin to get off the bed.

“No,” His hand goes down into his pants, and he breathes shakily.

“Crawl.”

Your pussy is practically drenched at this point. A small moan sounds in the back of your throat, and you get on your hands and knees. The look Nick gives you as you move towards him is so dark that you aren’t sure it’s even him anymore. But fuck, he looks so handsome, so beautiful. You can’t help but do what he says.

You’ll do anything for him.

He grabs you by your shoulders and pulls you up on your knees at the edge of the bed. His shirt has ridden up, exposing a sliver of his tanned and toned skin.

“What do you want me to do now, daddy?” The words you’re saying sound so unlike yourself, but it’s like something different has taken over you. All you can think or feel is NickNickNickNickNick. Over and over, your pussy throbbing and spilling wet juices all over the inside of your panties.

“Take your shirt off, sweetheart.”

The demand is one you follow instantly, and when you slip the shirt over your head your nipples are puffy and swollen. He grins, moving down to flick one of your nipples.

“These are so pretty. We should get them pierced, don’t you think?”

The thought of needles going through your tits make you wince. Nick laughs.

“I was just joking, angel.”

“We have to have those nice and ready for our baby, don’t we?”

Your eyes widen, and he laughs again, as if pregnancy is some kind of game.

“Joking, again. God, you’re so gullible, you know that?”

You really don’t think you’d mind carrying his baby, but you don’t mention that right now. Instead, you bring your hands to the bulge in his pants. He groans in surprise, and looks down at you.

“You little minx. Get to work, then. Since you want to be so impatient.”

You hesitate, not really knowing what to do.

“Can you teach me, sir?”

He presses your mouth to his clothed cock, and you gasp at the sudden movement. You drool all over the fabric of his jeans, the confines of the zipper making his incredibly large cock press against the denim.

“Gotta taste it first, don’t you?” He teases. He yanks you away from his dick and pulls your head back so you’ll look up at him.

“Give me a kiss.”

You do, reaching up desperately to kiss him on his soft, sweet lips. He strokes your face, gentle unlike the past few minutes.

“Do you feel safe with me?”

You nod, and he nods his head in understanding at the confirmation.

He begins to unzip his fly. And then, you watch as he pulls out his thick length. You gawk at how pretty and large he is, his tip shining with precum and his balls drawn up tight.

“Do you trust me?”

His voice is rougher now. He strokes his cock, and you ache for it to feel the deep canal of your throat.

“Yes, daddy. You’re the only person in the world I’ll ever trust.”

“Good. You only need me.”

And then he’s rubbing the tip over your lips, and you’re eagerly suckling the soft skin and licking the precum off. He tastes so good, so salty and bitter but so perfectly divine. He growls low in his throat, holding back as much as he can so he doesn’t destroy your perfect little mouth.

“Yeah, just like that. Didn’t even have to tell you where to put that slutty mouth. You think about this a lot, don’t you?”

You nod, as much as you can with your mouth full.

“Run your tongue along the vein.” He directs, watching as you pull off and ask him what to do next. “You see, right there?”

You follow his directions perfectly, following the trail and then moving to kitten lick underneath his head. His eyes roll back, and he shallowly thrusts into your throat. You become desperate, then, and before he realizes what’s happening your downing his whole aching prick in one singular stroke.

“Oh, fuck, you bitch!” He’s loud, and his resolve breaks. He grabs your head with both of his hands and begins to fuck your throat with vigor. You choke, your eyes watering, but you don’t want him to let up. Looking up at him through watery lashes, you see that his had is tilted back and his mouth is open in shock and pleasure.

“I can feel the back of your goddamn throat, Jesus fuck..”

He slows, just a bit, when he sees you struggling to breathe.

“Remember to breathe through your nose, sweetness.”

His advice helps you, and soon you’re relaxed as he uses your throat. Your hands grip his thighs, and on a particularly deep thrust your nose hits the curly black hair at his base. It’s amazing, how much you can take.

Not that Nick has been with many girls, but he’s been with a few. And all of them could hardly take his cock inside their cunt, much less their throat. Nick giggles at the irony, then, sadistically. Of course you can take it. You’re made for him. And he’s your god, a life force that you’re devoted to, that you can’t ever escape.

“Yeah, you’re a pro at this,” Nick says roughly. “ My good little cocksucker.”

That sets you off, and your fingers begin to go down and rub your clit. It doesn’t take long before Nick is pulling you off and pushing you back down on the bed. He grabs you by your thighs and begins to unbuttons your shorts aggressively. When he gets down to your underwear he’s pulling them off with a quickness and shoving them into his back pocket.

You really should be shy right now, but you aren’t. It’s just that way with Nick. You can do anything, show him anything, and you’ll still feel like the most free person to ever exist. He spreads your legs wide, and he doesn’t hesitate to go down and get a taste of you.

He licks a stripe up the expanse of your drenched pussy, makes sure to add a little bit of tongue when he gets to your clit. He thumbs the swollen button, plays with it like it’s a toy. Your back arches, his touch setting flames off on your skin and inside of you.

“Nicky, please..”

Your voice is raw from getting so harshly throat fucked, your eyes droopy and already fucked out from all the foreplay. He says nothing, instead choosing to gather up some of the precum from his cock and use two now lubed fingers to shove inside of you. Your hips soar off the mattress, the sudden stretch burning intensely, but not as much as you would’ve originally thought. You’re so wet that you’re really up for anything, at this point. You flush with embarrassment when you hear your wetness gushing around Nick’s fingers. But he looks pleased, intensely so, and bends down to press a little kiss to your clit.

“Aww, look at that,” he coos. “You’re so wet, aren’t you? Did daddy make you this wet?”

“Yesyesyesyes-“ you practically scream when he rubs your inner walls a certain way, and it makes your legs shake and makes tears stream down your cheeks. “please keep doing that, daddy. Oh my God!

You can feel your orgasm approaching, and it’s embarrassing that you’re cumming this soon. But you’re a virgin, after all. You can’t help it. And so, with a sharp intake of breath and a moan, you cum all over Nick’s fingers. He watches as your juices coat his entire hand and shirt as your legs start to convulse in pleasure. He smiles, satisfied. You just squirted all over him.

“There you go.. just like that. Good girl. Give me all of that, baby.”

When you come down it’s like you’re wiped of energy. Nick notices. His hand goes up to stroke your face.

“You have to give me one more, okay? Just one.”

You shake your head, eyes going closed, but he slaps your cheek lightly to keep you awake.

“Still need fuck you, honey. I want you to be awake when I do it. Want you to remember.”

You bite your lip, hesitant, but then you nod. He smiles, and your heart flutters as you look down at him in between your legs.

“That’s my girl.”

He adjusts your thighs, pulling your spent body towards him. His cock nudges against your entrance. It’s different from what you’ve just experienced, much more intimate and warm. So he guides himself into you, gently. It hurts, and you let out a noise of displeasure. You start to cry again, but out of pain.

“Daddy- c-can’t, ‘s too much..”

“I know you can take it, sweet girl. Don’t you want to make daddy proud?”

You hiccup, tears flowing freely down your cheeks, and you whisper a small, “yes sir.”

He pushes into you for what seems like forever, and when you finally feel his pelvis pressing against your clit you jump from the stimulation. It causes you to clench down on him, and you cry out at the feeling of him losing control and thrusting into your open canal. He groans, lifting himself up with his hands to keep himself still.

“Don’t do that baby, ‘s gonna hurt you. Fuck, you’re so tiny. My cock is splitting you in two.”

Yeah, you wanted to say, like I warned you it would.

But you don’t say that, and soon his cock just feels like a lot of pressure. So when you tell Nick to move, he tries his hardest to be slow. He’s shaking, the fact of being in control of himself a new phenomenon. But when he drags himself out, slow, and then pushes himself back in, you begin to feel different. He hits that special spot again, just right, and your hips move back on him at their own accord.

“Daddy.. please. Fuck me! want it hard…”

The words spill out of your mouth quickly, your brain going haywire. Nick’s hands become bruising in their grip, and he shoves your hands over your head again and begins to pound you vigorously. Your wetness leaves a creamy ring around the base of his cock, and you look absolutely gorgeous, letting him use you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful little girl.. love having this pussy fucked, don’t you? Making daddy so proud..”

You moan loudly, his praises making more wetness drip out of you.

“Love you, daddy, love you so much!”

Nick’s hips stutter at that, and although it should be a very large milestone to cross, it feels perfectly natural, perfectly true to say, and it makes his head spin. His perfect little girl, worshipping him and his cock. You’re a dream come true.

“Holy fuck.. I love you too, sweetheart.” Your heart aches, so deeply. He loves you. Nick, the boy you’ve been completely devoted to and have worshipped the entire summer, loves you.

You can feel his thrusts speeding up, his hands bruising on your skin. ‘M gonna cum, shit-“

He twitches, flooding your sticky walls with his cum. Your hips shake, your pussy milking him dry.

“Love your cum, sir, feels s’good.” You slur. The fact that you’ve gotten riled up and haven’t came again is in the very back of your mind. Nick’s cock, his body, his devoted time and attention to you, is enough to satiate your needs. When he pulls out of you he makes sure to watch his cum drip out of your needy hole, and then rubs your clit in gentle strokes.

“just give me one more, baby. Cum for daddy one more time.”

And who are you to resist? Shaking, your brain turns to mush. Your tummy tightens and then you’re spilling again, watching as Nick looks down at you with adoration.

When you slow, his hands move up to swipe some hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. You smile bashfully, watching as he lays down beside you and beckons you over to him once more. It’s peaceful, resting now in the darkness of his room. The radio is still playing, soft just as before. And when you sleep, you dream of sweet nothings.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

And then two days later, you’re being harassed by the camp’s janitor.

His name is Lloyd, and he’s older, much more so. He’s noticed you around, he says. He wants to get to know you more.

You’re uncomfortable by his offer. He’s a grown man, for christ’s sakes! And not an attractive one, at that, so why would you even attempt such a thing with him?

Of course, Nick isn’t too far behind when Lloyd starts spewing harsh words when you reject him. He pulls you behind him protectively, and begins suggesting that he call his father and tell on him. Lloyd instantly backs off, but his narrowed eyes never leave yours as he walks away.

Later that night, there’s a camp bonfire. You smile as you conversate with Nick while a bag of marshmallows between the two of you. You shove one into your mouth as you discuss Carry by Stephen King, and he agrees that it’s one of the best. Your head rests on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you. Although campers and counselors technically can’t be together, no one around really cares at the moment; they’re all too busy with their own friends to notice. You grab Nick’s hand and suggest that he take you to get more snacks from the cafeteria. He trails behind you, watching your ass bounce in the tiny skirt you’re wearing. It isn’t long before you’re buying a coke and Nick is using every excuse in the book to guide you behind the deserted building and up against the wall.

His lips press gently into your neck in a sloppy, wet kiss. Your coke is forgotten, the soft drink’s bottle sitting on the concrete beside the both of you. You fall into Nick more when he bites down softly on the spot below your ear; he’s only fucked you once, but he knows your body like the back of his hand.

You sigh, your hand grabbing his and discreetly guiding it to that warm spot in between your legs. He huffs out a laugh, watches your face contort into carnal pleasure when he rubs your clit softly.

“Needy, baby?”

“Want you..” you whine, hands gripping his shirt. “Fuck me here. Wan’ everyone to see…”

“Jesus,” he moans, your hand going down to palm his aching shaft. “Only fucked you once and I’ve already turned you into a little cockslut, huh?”

You nod as his thumb brushes over your lips in a playful manner. You bring the digit into your mouth, making sure that it hits the very back of your throat. Nick groans at that, bringing his thumb out and crashing his lips into yours. You taste like cherry coke, and from the past few days of the constant making out you guys have been doing, Nick can infer that this is just how you taste. It’s so perfect, so incredibly sweet and precious. He grabs your arms and turns you around so he can press your body against the wall behind you. His hands undo his belt, and then he’s lifting up your skirt to see your pretty cunt.

“No panties, sweetheart?”

“Just wanted to be ready for you, daddy.”

The way you say it, so giving and dedicated, makes Nick’s cock jump. When he pulls it out he presses it flush against your bare mound and slaps your lips playfully with his tip. You squirm, little pussy red and swollen.

“Love this little pussy so much, baby,” Nick coos. He rubs your clit with his length, and it makes you tremble. “Need you to beg for daddy. C’mon, be a good girl.”

You don’t even hesitate, your voice shaky and desperate. “Please! Need you so bad, daddy. Please fuck me!”

He doesn’t hesitate to shove himself inside you, then. And although the stretch still hurts, it feels better than last time and it makes you mewl as he begins to harshly pound into you. He yanks you back by your hair, your body pressed flush against him, and he uses his other hand to yank your top down and expose your tits to the night air. They scrape against the brick wall, and it the sting makes you clench around him.

“Good little bitch.. such a tight little pussy…”

And then his tone becomes darker, and he begins to put a bruising grip on your hip.

“Tommy could’ve never fucked you like this, y’know.”

The sentence catches you off guard, your body slowing its movements. But only slightly; because as fucked up as it is, Nick still turns you on. You stutter, your eyes rolling back when Nick’s cock grazes your insides perfectly.

“W-What?”

And although it seems like Nick should be ashamed or feel caught saying the thing he just said, he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers reach down to rub you clit, as he chuckles darkly.

“You heard me. That little fucker. You were going to leave me for him, weren’t you?”

Your eyes furrow in confusion, tears beginning to form at the stress of his interrogation and his harsh thrusts. Nick slaps your ass harshly, watching it jiggle and move against him more.

“Answer me!”

“No! No, I only ever wanted you! I- I didn’t-“

“Good.”

His fingers slap your pussy, and then he’s rubbing your clit in harsh circles again. You practically scream, your wetness gushing down his dick.

“Now fucking cum for me.”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You ignore Nick as he walks you back to his cabin.

You don’t know what else to do. How else are you supposed to react when your best friend slash lover decides to talk about a dead friend in bed?

It should upset you more than it does.

You’re freaked out, a little bit, of course. But the guilt, that pit in your stomach, isn’t as prominent as you thought it would be. And when Nick pulls you into a hug and softly asks, “stay, please?”, you can’t resist him. Will is out, you assume. Probably with a random girl or still at the bonfire.

None of that matters, right now. You turn your head when Nick tries to kiss you. He frowns, hands coming up to your hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why’d you say that stuff earlier, Nick?” You ask quietly. Your nervously bounce on the balls of your feet. “That was really mean.”

He sighs, looking regretful as he takes your face into his hands.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know I shouldn’t of said that. I got carried away..“

His lips land on yours, gentle. You’re extremely tired, your limbs weak and your pussy aching from Nick’s harsh fucking. You don’t know how to feel, but the softness of Nick’s lips makes your eyes flutter shut.

“I won’t do it again,” he murmurs, as he pulls away. His thumb goes to wipe away stray mascara that had smeared on your face. “I promise. Just stay with me?”

You know it isn’t right. You know that what he said was messed up, was something you should leave him for. But you don’t. You just nod your head obediently, and join him on his bed. And when you’re trying to sleep and his length rubs up against your thigh, he asks if you want him. You say yes, and It’s true.

And when he brings himself up to your lips, you lick his cock clean, and show him your devotion.

@itsthatonegirl

#nick goode #Nick goode x reader #Nick goode x fem! reader #nick goode smut #Ghostface! Nick goode #fear streat scream au #scream #fear street #fear street 1994 #fear street 1978 #fear street 1666 #fear street trilogy #fear street fanfiction #young! Nick goode #dom! Nick goode #sub! reader

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fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow · 7 months ago

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i love the idea of damien being the most protective batkid.

like you’d think it was dick but nope it’s damien who was mostly raised by dick and has learnt to show his love and affection by worrying about and protecting his family in his own way. if u mess with any of his siblings be prepared to know why they call him demon brat.

when an old guy starts coughing up a lung at a gala while standing in front of an immunocompromised tim, damien immediately starts lecturing the guy about wearing a mask while simultaneously yoinking antibiotics out of tim’s pockets and handing him a glass of water.

one time a villain makes dick cry (maybe it’s scarecrow) and yes while damian knows dick cries often when he’s happy or proud or sad or sometimes when he’s angry but he has never cried in fear before. and damien is pissed because how dare you make his big brother cry? he beats the shit out of the villain.

(i’m doing two for dick because while i love the above one i realised the rest of them are civilian ones so i decided to add this one)

someone making weird comments about dicks body, stuff like, “what i would give to have him for a night”. damien is borderline murderous. “you know he has a name and Richard is not an object for you to use for your pleasure, he’s a person.”

someone says something ignorant about the people living in and around crime alley and before jason can even open his mouth damien is already going into how you should assume peoples living situations and how not everyone has the privilege the rich gothemites have.

someone says something weird and misogynistic about Steph? you already know damien is there defending all women and even bringing in points about why steph especially is incredible.

and you know if anyone said anything about any of his POC siblings ( dick, cass, duke) or himself he’s already on his “wait until i tell father that you have such racist ideals” and recording prepared to ruin this guys life.

someone is fetishising or infantilising cass? he comes out of nowhere with “she can speak for herself.” or “she’s not a work of art for you to stare and make comments about she’s a human being.”

someone making comments about how duke doesn’t below among high society because he wasn’t born into it. damien is there defending him and saying how he has better manners than they do.

this is very ooc but the idea of damien using his vocabulary to just absolutely eat people up is so pleasant to me.

also u can tell i don’t know much about the less “mainstream” batfam members but im doing my research and writing what i find down in my hyperfixation book.

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epiphainie · 5 months ago

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I see and love all your tearjerker proposal ideas, but we don’t talk enough about the absolute hilarity that would ensue with an Evan Buckley Proposal™️. Like I’m imagining him being soooo excited about it in the most Buck way possible. He has this ten page speech about how much he loves Tommy and how they’re soulmates and the universe pulled a sick one by putting them on each other’s paths and he’s planning to tell Tommy all that before he pops the question and he’s preparing this big romantic night for it with the most romantic flowers and the most romantic music and the most romantic ring at the most romantic place in all of Los Angeles and he’s roped in everyone at the station to help him, threatened Chim with cold-blooded murder if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut, made Eddie reassure him about every step of his plans not twice but thrice, talked to Bobby with blushing cheeks and fidgeting hands till Bobby gave him his absolute blessing. Hen, Maddie, Athena, they’re all in on it. He’s Ready to do it The Right Way.

Then at like 2pm on a lazy Tuesday afternoon his poor brain that has been overworking on this for weeks gets overloaded and crashes. And suddenly he Needs To Ask Tommy Right Now. Like, just like that the entire plan is overridden, and he doesn’t even process what he’s doing before he sends Eddie a text that just says, “I think I will do it now” and ditches his phone and marches to the garage where Tommy has been working on his truck all day.

The next thing we know Eddie is opening his door to a Buck who has his arms wrapped around himself and his big blue eyes are filled with tears. He looks like a puppy kicked a thousand ways and before Eddie can even open his mouth he cries out, “He said no,” and drops face first on Eddie’s couch. Eddie is like ???? but also “Well, I can’t deal with this shit on my own,” so he calls Hen and Chimney and ten minutes later Buck is sitting on the couch being interrogated by his best friends.

They’re all obviously confused.

Hen, disbelieving, asks, “He said no?”

Buck makes the most pathetic pitiful sound known to the human kind and nods.

Chimney, not really helpful, murmurs, “Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” to himself because he knows how much Tommy loves Buck and would say yes to marrying him months, hell, years ago.

Hen, trying to make sense of it all asks, “What did he exactly say?” because Chim is right, it doesn’t make a lick of sense.

Buck, still looking like a wet cat, goes, “He said it wasn’t the right thing for us.” His voice hitches and he moans, “He said it wasn’t s-smart.”

Hen and Chim shoot a look at each other. Eddie at this point is getting angry because what the fuck? Which is exactly what he says and Hen, the only one trying to be actually somewhat helpful, shakes her head like, “No, Eddie,” and then to Buck with what she hopes is a reassuring voice says, “Maybe he just doesn’t believe in the institution of marriage?”

Buck looks even more miserable at that and buries his face in his hands as he bemoans “Noooo,” and shakes his head like he’s grieving. “We t-talked about it before. At the beginning of our relationship, we both agreed we’d do that if it felt like the right time.” He slumps back on the couch like his life has just ended. “I t-thought it was the right time.”

Eddie, totally pissed off now because how are you gonna be with a guy for years, move in together, buy a house together, be committed to each other fully, and then say no to his marriage proposal, goes, “Oh fuck him. Do you want me to beat some sense into him?” Because damn, this is his best friend who looks absolutely crushed and Eddie will kick Tommy’s ass, fuck the fact that he’s really good at Muay Thai, he hasn’t seen Eddie’s wrath before.

Hen, still the sound of logic and seeing how Buck gets sadder each passing moment, stops him again. “We’re not beating anyone up.” Then says, “Buck, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. Tommy loves you.” Because yeah he does in the most sickening teen boy with a puppy crush way, so none of this makes sense and Hen’s brain is whirring but she’s not sure what’s happening yet. “And you love Tommy.”

Buck, hands covering his face again moans into his palms, “I do.” Then his hands drop, and his face shot with panic and fear he goes, “Wait?! Does this mean we broke up?”

A pissed-off, disbelieving noise leaves Eddie; Chim shoots another look towards Hen’s way; Hen just gives an awkward unsure smile. “No. No.” She tries to reassure him. “Of course not.”

“I mean,” Chim says with a shrug. “I don’t see how a relationship comes back from that, you know?”

This gets Buck start crying again.

“You’re. Not. Being. Helpful. Chim.” Hen mutters.

Eddie jumps up, “Oh, I’m beating him up for you.”

Buck’s wails get louder.

It all devolves from there with Buck going between hollering and sniffling and Eddie dead-set on confronting Tommy and Hen trying to do damage control with “We’re just gonna talk to him,” and Chim continuing to be absolutely unhelpful with his comments about how Tommy is great, and so cool, and perfect, and he’d make a great brother-in-law, and this doesn’t make any sense.

So, the four of them somehow find themselves marching towards the Buckley-Kinard house with Eddie at the helm and Buck looking like a pathetic mess between them. They’ve barely entered the front yard when Tommy bursts out the front door with his phone in his hand and he goes, “Where have you been?! I’ve been calling you for hou—”

“I trusted you, man!” Eddie shouts, voice echoing through the street.

Tommy stops in his tracks. He takes in the sight of his friends who are all shooting him deadly (and confused) glares. Then he looks at his boyfriend and finds him avoiding his eyes, keeping his gaze at his feet like all the happiness has been sucked out of his entire universe. Brows furrowing in confusion, Tommy takes a step towards him. “Evan.” He tilts his chin up and sucks in a breath when he sees the tear tracks on Buck’s face. His own face crumbles, now in concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Eddie lets out a mirthless laugh. “Pretending you don’t know, huh?”

Tommy looks at him, at Chim, at Hen. “Don’t know what?”

“Oh, you’re a bigger asshole than I thought, Kinard.” Eddie spits in his face, his head shaking. “Acting like nothing’s wrong after saying no to a guy’s proposal so cruelly.”

Tommy freezes. His gaze snaps to Buck with a confused, “What?” but Buck is avoiding his eyes again. “What proposal?” Tommy asks. “Evan didn’t propose to me.”

At this point all tired and beaten Buck sighs, “It’s okay, Tommy.”

“No. No—” Tommy shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”

Buck shrugs. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Evan.”

Sighing again, Buck finally looks up. “Look, I get it. We can talk about it later.” He chews at his lip. “Right?” Because he’s still not sure if they’re broken up or not and god he really wishes they’re not because marriage is a dumb institution rooted in patriarchy to maintain and reinforce traditional gender roles and they didn’t even let two men marry till a decade ago, so it’s not like they need anyone’s acknowledgement and all he needs is Tommy, but also he had the absolute perfect ring picked out and he doesn’t know if he can get a refund on it, and calling Tommy his husband would be so fucking nice, and maybe he has been dreaming about that for the past however many years.

At this point, he’s tearing up again, so Tommy cups his face and brushes away some of the tears, before saying with the biggest gentlest eyes, “We can talk about anything you want. But… Baby, what proposal?”

Buck sniffles. “Earlier. W-when I asked you in the garage.”

Tommy frowns harder because that doesn’t make any sense. “You didn’t ask me to marry you, Evan.”

“Yes, I did, Tommy,” Buck huffs.

“No, you asked me if I wanted to take a vacation.”

“I think I know what I asked.”

“You said you wanted to go on a trip!”

“That’s not what I said!”

“Okay, you didn’t say trip! You said, you said something like if I wanted to take a new journey with you! Embark on adventure or something. You said you wanted a travel companion for a voyage!”

“Lifelong voyage.” Buck murmurs, lips pursing and arms crossing together. “For our grand adventure together.”

No one says anything for a minute as Buck avoids their eyes and scuffs his feet in the dirt.

At last, as the person with any semblance of intelligence Hen says, “Buck. Did you use any word related to marriage? Like “husband” or “marry” or even “matrimony”?” Her eyebrows rises. “Anything that’s not a metaphor?”

Buck, face red up to the hairline now, just shrugs. “I had a-a speech, okay? I was n-nervous and it was long so I had to paraphrase.”

Finally, Hen sighs, not unkindly.

Chim chuckles, kinda unkindly.

Eddie looks almost as embarrassed as Buck and murmurs, “Sorry, man,” to Tommy as the realization hits it was just his best friend being a huge dumbass and Tommy actually didn’t do anything to deserve a beating.

Tommy, his entire focus on his boyfriend and not paying them any attention, pulls Buck’s arms down and lifts his face up again. He gives him a smile. “I said no because I thought you were asking to go on a trip, Evan,” he says softly. “And that we’ve just got a mortgage together and can’t afford one.” He shakes his head. “I was covered in grease, Pearl Jam was playing in the background, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Still looking abashed but at least not snotty anymore, Buck says, “N-no. No. It’s my fault. I’m sorry, Tommy,” he says with a shrug.

Tommy smiles again. “It’s okay, baby.” For a moment, he rubs his boyfriend’s arms up and down, then says, “Sooo…”

Buck, realizing the faint pink on his boyfriend’s face, looks at him with the roundest eyes. “You mean…?”

“Well…” Tommy shrugs. “Are you gonna ask me for real or what?”

The sun dawns on Buck’s face. His eyes go bright with fresh but happier tears. “Yea-yeah.” He nods frantically. “Tommy. W-will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Tommy says. Buck pounces on him with a kiss that gets a surprised moan from him as Hen, Chimney, and Eddie start clapping and Buck cries again and so does Tommy and later that night, Buck gives him the perfect ring he had picked out and come Saturday they actually go to the greatest restaurant in LA and Tommy listens as Buck explains every step of his original proposal and all the metaphors he’s curated carefully for his speech.

The end.

#i was like i dont wanna write this fic but then my silly tumblr post about it become 2k lol #also p sure this was the premise of a fic ive read like a decade ago but i dont remember what it was #if anyone knows let me know #bucktommy #tevan #911 #911 fanfic #bucktommy fic #kinley #911 fic #mimi.txt

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babygorewhore · 3 months ago

Text

10 things I hate about you part three.

Logan Howlett x fem reader

The tension between you and Logan finally comes to a head in this final part.

Part one.

Part two

I found out my dog has cancer today. It’s been a horrible day but I still wanted to write and finish this series. I apologize if it’s shitty but I’m just tired. Can’t wait to write more of him. And if I didn’t tag you when you’ve asked, I simply didn’t remember.

Warnings! Angst! Talks of troubled past! Talk of death! Violence! Arguing! Oral! Fem receiving! Degrading! Praise! Unprotected sex! Hair pulling! Age gap! Reader is late 20s and Logan is late 40s!

“Keep glaring at me and your face is gonna get stuck like that.” You say without looking at Logan who was grumbling to himself.

You both were sitting at a diner the next morning from the all night ride on the bus. Your clothes were messy and your entire body worn out. Logan did allow you to rest on his shoulder until he nudged you awake and told you that you were getting off at this stop.

The waitress set down a pot of coffee, sugar and creams prepared. You were shocked to see Logan give her something close to a smile.

“I take it you want the usual order, James?” The older woman asked and he nodded. She turned to you and grinned.

“Ah, who’s this lovely lady?” You told her your name and she glanced between you both. “I’m glad to see him with someone.” His soft expression hardened and you cleared your throat.

“May I please have blueberry muffins?”

“Of course, sugar. Coming right up.” She chirped and walked away.

“I’ve never heard anyone call you by your first name.” You spoke and Logan rolled his broad shoulders.

“Yeah well that’s how I introduced myself to her.” He replied tiredly and leaned back. “Why didn’t you tell me what your power was?”

Logan’s question was one you wanted to keep avoiding at all costs. Your answer was complicated and you anticipated a poor reaction from you. You didn’t answer and his jaw flexed.

“Alright, bub. You wanna play this game with me? Fine. But I hope for your sake you have one hell of a reason for what you did.”

“Can we just not argue for five minutes?” You sighed and widened your eyes. “It fucking sucked. I get it. You don’t need to keep repeating it.”

To your surprise, he mumbled “Fine.” And watched you take a drink of the hot coffee. “Where are your parents?”

His personal inquiry took you by surprise and you paused. Logan’s dark eyebrow raised in expectation and you purposely took a long sip of coffee.

“They’re gone.” You answered in response and he tilted his head to the side. You exhaled and cleared your throat, setting your mug down. “My father is in prison. And my mother is dead. I killed her.”

Logan snorted and rolled his eyes but then focused when he saw your gaze hardened. He realized you weren’t joking. He opened his mouth but the waitress came with a tray, she set down his meal and two blueberry muffins for you.

“Can I get you a refill?” She asked and you nodded with a wide smile in thanks.

“Yes, please.”

You could tell Logan was itching to ask you more but waited for her to come back. “Leave the pot if you don’t mind.” He quietly asked and she took the hint.

You weren’t getting out of this conversation and you pushed around the food on your plate. “You heard me correctly. I murdered my mother.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Nice try but I’m not a dumbass. I know well enough. You’re not a killer. Something happened and she ended up dead.”

You flicked a hair out of your face and crossed your arms. “You don’t know anything about me. That’s something you’re missing. You just make assumptions about people because you’re bitter and angry at the world.”

This bravery was coming from exhaustion and discomfort but Logan wasn’t falling for your attempt. “She tried to kill me. And I had to stop her.”

“So you cover up all this shit with false charm and wit to distract people from the past? Interesting.”

You smirk. “It’s not false.”

“And you make some bet with the iceman, who wants to fuck you, that you can make me like you because of some dumb crush on me?”

Your heart plummets and you begin to shake.

“You also think I’m stupid. You think I’m so fuckin dumb that I don’t these games you play with people. All of this? All this pretending you do? It’s just an act to keep everyone from seeing what’s really inside. A sad little girl who was abandoned. And you’re hoping someone will help pick up the pieces. Well, it’s not me. Get it through your head.”

You sat in silence after he finished grounding out his lecture with a wave of different emotions. Shame that he knew about the bet. Sadness from him using that against you even though it was true and finally anger coursed through you.

Your first instinct was to get up. Run out of the building and hide away. Maybe even just leave him there and escape back to the school on your own. But that’s not what you did.

Your focus sharpened and Logan blinked a few times as he realized that he couldn’t talk or move. He was extremely strong, stronger than you could have ever imagined as he resisted but your growing temper was keeping him still as you leaned in close.

“I’m sorry about the bet. I shouldn’t have done something so stupid and I know that. But don’t you ever act like you have some kind of idea about me or my life. That would require you to think of anyone else but yourself. Don’t ever bring up that my parents abandoned me. I wish they did. I wish they would have left me instead of what happened.”

At the last word, you finally released him and Logan jerked. He huffed a breath as he watched you stand with red rimmed eyes.

“Xavier found me underneath a pile of a broken house. If it wasn’t for the table above me, I would have been dead that night. And now, I’m just trying to help other people. I’m just trying to be a good person. I didn’t mean to like you and sometimes I don’t even know why. You’re not nice to me. You’ve treated me like shit the entire time. And I don’t deserve that.”

You exited the diner as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your footsteps carried you back to the bus stop for this never ending trip. You’d have to get a new phone, otherwise you’d call someone to come and get you.

You sat on the bench for almost an hour when you heard his heavy footsteps approaching but your eyes remained on the road. Logan sat down next to you, his thigh almost touching yours.

“You’re right. You didn’t deserve that.”

You didn’t give him a response and through the corner of your eye, he faced you. “Susan, the waitress let me use her phone. Couple of people are headed our way to get us.”

You still remained quiet and Logan sighed.

“There’s also a trailer she owns behind the diner. She offered for us to stay there until they arrive.”

“No thanks.” You aimed your body to the side.

“I’m trying to make things right.” He started and you whipped to face him.

“And you’re doing a really shitty job, Wolverine.” You hissed his xmen name like venom and he actually recoiled. The big strong warrior flinched from you. “So please. Spare me the poor attempt and shut the fuck up.”

You’d never spoken to him like that and you got up. You began to storm off, searching for the trailer he spoke of when you felt a hand graze your elbow. In a rage, you twirled on your heel and put your hand on his firm chest.

“Stop chasing after me. You made your point. I was so fucking stupid for making the bet. The only thing you will ever care about is a woman who never chose you. She never chose you! I hid my powers from you because I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want you to think of her when you’d see me use them. I just wanted to spend time with you.” You whispered the last part and Logan’s eyes squeezed shut.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist but to your surprise he gently stroked the skin. Logan’s hold firmed and he tugged you closer to him. Your shoes touched his and he leaned his head down.

“Staying away from me is the best thing anyone can do. Everyone who gets close to me ends up dead. And I won’t have more blood on my hands.” Logan was rejecting you again but his gaze darted to your lips.

But you were the one to pull away.

Logan allowed you to move towards the trailer without another word and you both scanned the small space. There was only one bed but there was a couch as well. You automatically leaned towards the sofa and he stopped you.

“I’ll take the couch. You sleep on the mattress.” He grunted.

You didn’t argue.

You woke to Logan shouting in his sleep. His claws shot out of his knuckles and you kept a safe distance as he woke himself up. Your lower lip was pulled between your teeth as sweat came from his skin and he wildly looked around.

He heaved and sunk his claws back into the bone.

“I get them too.” You offered and he looked up at you.

“I would give anything to have one peaceful night of fucking sleep.” He whispered and you nodded. You took a risk and shifted around. Your legs hung off the bed and you climbed off. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I can help you sleep.”

Logan’s lips tightened. “Pills don’t work for me.”

“I mean using my mutation.” When he didn’t reply you deflated. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive. I know you probably don’t like anyone in your head-“

“Yes.”

His agreement surprised you and you stopped short. You didn’t want him to change his mind about it so you quickly extended a hand. You rested your hand on his dark hair, absentmindedly stroking the soft strands and your heart fluttered.

“Just breathe.”

Logan shut his eyes and allowed you to search his mind for a happy memory. You half expected to see Jean but you instead saw him overseeing a class you instructed. You were smiling in his mind, unaware of him watching and you drew a diagram on a board. It was a calm class that was just an ordinary day.

You continued moving around his thoughts and saw even more images of yourself. Moments of you in the kitchen, play fighting with friends. You saw a time where you played with a service dog outside.

You then proceeded to dig deeper and saw young him. Quietly reading in a large bedroom, decorated in items that were older.

You dropped your hand and came back to the present. Logan’s breathing slowed and he didn’t look tense.

“You’re always so kind to people. Even when they don’t deserve it.” He chuckled. “You’re funny. Especially at night when you try to make the kids go to bed.” Logan looked into your eyes. “You don’t care what people think of you.”

“I didn’t know you even saw those things.” You whispered.

“Why would I want to ruin someone’s sunshine?” He countered and you leaned down.

“You don’t ruin anything, Wolverine.”

“I like that you use my name.” He admitted in a low voice and you swallowed thickly.

“Logan, I wouldn’t hurt you. Not on purpose. I didn’t mean to be so annoying-“

“I like that you push my buttons. You don’t let me be an asshole. You’re like a…puppy.” Logan smiled. It was a genuine one then it dropped. “I shouldn’t have said what I did earlier. Whatever happened between you and your family-it must have been a nightmare.”

“My mother was convinced I was a demon. She did things that were crazy but one night she snapped. And she tried to kill me. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just wanted her to stop.” You shuddered at the memory. “I have nightmares about her. That’s why I always stay up late.”

“Can’t say it gets better. Wish I could. After hundreds of years, I still remember every life I’ve taken. But you-“ He struggled to find the words. “Eventually, you can find meaning in this shitty world. You’re doing it with all those kids.”

“Well, well, Logan, you’ve given me a compliment.” Your teasing made him look at your proximity.

“Yeah. Think you’ve heard enough of me being a dick. Might as well tell ya something nice.” He huffed and you didn’t know what came over you. You bent down and pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

You yanked back, startled by your own action. “I’m so sorry, you just-“

“Fuck it.”

Logan stood up and wrapped his massive hand around the back of your head. Your parted lips allowed him to easily crush his mouth to yours and you felt the back of your knees hit the mattress.

His kiss was bruising at first, hungry the way he moved on top of you between your legs. Logan’s hair fell forward and grazed your forehead as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You yelped as he tore away from your lips and peppered needy kisses along your jaw. “Logan-I don’t want you to feel like you need to-“

“Wanted to fuck you when you were on that goddamn stage.” He growled, tearing apart the top of your clothing. Exposing your chest and bra, Logan ran his tongue across your skin and nipped it with his teeth.

“I’m gonna fuckin ruin you.” He promises and you whimper.

Logan trails his fingers along your curves, his warmth searing against your bare flesh and his facial hair tickling your neck. “Such a pretty body. I’m gonna taste that pretty pussy and you’re gonna take it like a good girl, huh?” He huskily announces.

Even in your wildest dreams, you still couldn’t have imagined the moment of Logan Howlett tearing away your panties and groaning deeply. Your nipples hardened as he rolled two girthy fingers around your clit and gave it a spank.

“What’s the matter? Can’t handle being smacked around a little?” Logan darkly whispered and smeared your wetness around your folds. You threw your head back and whined as he dragged his lips down your stomach, pelvis and finally hovered above your cunt.

He eagerly dragged his tongue and licked you like melting ice cream. You buried your hands in his hair and pulled, moaning a slew of swear words as Logan drooled against your pussy. He slipped inside your entrance, filling you partially and you cried out.

Logan roughly turned you around, separating your ass and continued to eat your pussy. This angle was somehow deeper as your chest pressed against the mattress and you let out pornographic sounds. He held your calves down as he sucked and licked your cunt.

It was overwhelming and you were just about to hit your peak when he yanked away. But you didn’t have time to miss the contact when you heard Logan unbuckle his belt. You turned your head and looked over your shoulder.

You needed to enjoy every second of this so you maneuvered around and sat on your heels. You were breathless as Logan pulled down his pants and boxers. His dick was big, as you expected but it was so thick and leaked with precum.

“Don’t look so scared now, princess.” He hoarsely laughed and you stopped him from taking his shirt off.

“Let me.” He allowed you to peel it off and you admired his muscular torso. Your hands traced every avenue and his stomach tightened as your fingers moved above his v-line.

“Like what you see?”

“Mhm. You’re perfect.” You said sincerely and he pressed his lips to yours again. You tasted yourself on his tongue as he laid you on your back.

Logan wasn’t a gentle man by any means but he was tender in the way he held back his superhuman strength. He didn’t want to hurt you. He ran the tip of his cock along your slit and breathed through gritted teeth.

He pushed inside you, his dick stretching your cunt and you let out a throaty groan. You felt it pulse as he thrusted, filling you to the brim and his balls slapped against your ass.

“Cmon. You can take it, now you’re not so mouthy.” Logan snarled as your eyes rolled back and he lifted your legs up. Adding to the intensity as he fucked you. “Such a good girl, pussy squeezing me.”

You were nearly wailing and your nails dug into his back. He ran his tongue along your pulse point. “I’m-I can’t-fuck!” You squealed as Logan wrapped his hand around your neck.

“You gonna let me fill you up? Cum in you over and over again?”

You nodded rapidly.

“I’m not some little bitch. I don’t just bust a load in two seconds. You’re gonna cum and suck my cock with that pretty pussy till you can’t see anymore.” He promised and your vision whitened.

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave and you were sobbing. Logan fucked you through it, using your leaking arousal to add further slip as he pounded you. Your head lulled to the side but he shook his head.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna hold you up.”

You were back on your knees and looking at the wall as he slammed back into you.

“That’s it, milk my cock like the slut you are. You gonna be a good girl and take it all for me?” He mocked and you gasped for air between crying.

“Cum in me, god please, cum in me, please! Please!” You begged and Logan slapped your ass so hard you squeaked.

He tangled his big fingers in your hair and controlled your rhythm as he made you bounce on it.

Logan shouted and rested his head on your back as he creamed in you. You felt warm ropes of cum spill and leak out. Another orgasm hit you hard and you bit the top of your hand.

His stamina was endless, you knew that but he did finally pull you into his chest after five rounds.

You laid there in silent bliss for several seconds and felt him press a sweet kiss to your temper.

“You free Friday night?” He asked and you perked up with a grin spreading across your face.

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m trying to-“

You giggle and cup his face, kissing him hard. Logan rests his hand on your lower back.

“Yes. I’m free.” He gives you another rare soft smile and hums.

“Gives me time to find a decent car. Gotta do at least one thing right.” You gently touch his cheek and nuzzle against him.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m feeling deep urges to bite you.”

“Oh, here we go.”

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @marchsfreakshow @taintandviolent @starkeysprincess @nemesyaaa

#logan howlett #Logan Howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett xmen #logan howlett x fem!reader #Wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine xmen #Wolverine smut #wolverine x y/n #wolverine x female reader #Wolverine x smut #wolverine x f!reader #Hugh Jackman

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