#It's like I'm watching from your window while you watch the movie lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rhaenyratargcryen · 3 months ago

Text

i want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight | logan howlett/wolverine

masterlist ❈

summary: drifting from town to town and never lingering in one place for too long has served you well since you began to realize something might be...different, about you. you've never been able to put a finger on what exactly that difference is, until you end up at the same bar as a mysterious, albeit deeply captivating, stranger. author's note: this literally came from an idea of a reader that could share their own feelings through touch, which then snowballed into an arguably too long one shot (if i'm not careful, that's what i'm going to become known for hahaha) i recently rewatched x-men (2000) after seeing dp&w (twice) and haven't had time to rewatch the others. i know at the end of the first movie, logan leaves the school - so i feel like this would take place, hypothetically, either after he returns/before x2, or between x2 and x-men 3. idk it's not that deep seriously just imagine early 30-something year old hugh jackman's wolverine while you read this <3 kind of still a shithead, not yet entirely traumatized lol!!!

pairing: logan howlett/wolverine x f!reader word count: 10,353 (uhhhh hahaha next question) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), sloooow burn, user rhaenyratargcryen had to google everyone's powers multiple times just. be warned

18+/mdni i am sooooo serious and please don't repost with or without asking for permission. i'm not into that kind of thing, if you want to share pls reblog!!!!

title is from she wants revenge's "tear you apart"

It’s a Sunday, when Logan finds you. Or, you’d soon come to find, perhaps it was you who had been the one to find him.

You’ve grown accustomed to becoming a familiar face at every shitty bar in every small town your drifter lifestyle drags you to, and this hole-in-the-wall in the Hudson Valley that smells slightly of piss and even more of cigarettes is no different.

The motel down the street that you’d unpacked your menial possessions into is the perfect distance from the dive — you could walk home at the end of the night, and not worry you’d find yourself in trouble with a stranger. Well, the wrong kind of stranger.

Sitting at the end of the bar, you’re nursing your third drink in the fading light of the afternoon as it comes through the row of windows to your right when the light blinks out, abruptly, and you look up to find yourself face to face with a very ruggedly-handsome man with…mutton chops, you think? You snort. They haven’t been in style for centuries.

Your gaze drags across his face, down to his torso, then rests for a beat too long to be appropriate on the way his jeans sit low on his hips, a bit too tight on his thighs if he was to ask you. He stiffens under your wandering eye, watching you carefully as your attention returns to his — begrudgingly, considering he’s disturbing your peace — beautiful face.

He’s hot, you’ll give him that, but you try your best to glare and look unapproachable; it’s a Sunday and you’re drunk on bottom-shelf whiskey, trying desperately to communicate that you’re not quite in the mood for conversation with a stranger at the moment.

This man will not take a fucking hint.

He gestures to the seat directly to your right. “Mind if I sit here?”

You glance pointedly at the rest of the seats at the bar, which are all notably empty, but you say nothing and grunt your indifference. This guy doesn’t look the talkative type, but you really hope he isn’t looking for a chat. Luckily, he sits down silently and gestures to the bartender, who seems to recognize him and pours him a finger of whatever you’ve also been drinking.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s picked up the glass and swirled the liquor around in it, but before he can take a swig, he opens his mouth with the glass practically pressed to it and mutters, “You know what you are?”

“That’s an odd fucking thing to say,” you remark, pulling your glass closer to you and closing both fists around it, turning to look directly at him. Your heart stutters as you watch the left side of his mouth curl slightly into a smirk. “Wanna explain to me what the fuck you mean by that, dude?”

The man grunts and throws back his whiskey, swallowing it in one go. Before you can get another word in, he lifts his left hand up, flexing his forearm, and you watch as three shiny, silver pieces of metal pierce through the skin between his knuckles with a sharp snikt sound.

“What the fuck,” you rasp, pressing a hand flat down on the bartop to push yourself up and away from him in the seat next to you, knocking your own drink over in the process. No one else in the bar seems fazed, like he comes in here and does this — whatever this is — often. He doesn’t move, doesn’t make an attempt to come closer to you than he is, and eventually your heartbeat calms down, and your flight response becomes a fight response. You bristle, a bit pissed off at what you read as an attempt to scare the shit out of you for fun.

“What’s your problem?”

“Ain’t got a problem, bub,” the man murmurs, leaning against the bar and grinning, the claws retracting. He wipes the backs on his knuckles off onto the thighs of his jeans, blood staining the denim red. “Was just trying to get you to do whatever it is you can do.”

You thank the bartender, who has dropped a rag in front of you to clean your spilled liquor and replaced your empty glass with a full one.

“Sweetheart, I could smell you the second I stepped foot through that door. I haven’t seen you around here before, you new in town?”

Smell you? You’re about one more strange statement from him away from losing your goddamn mind. “I’m gonna need you to elaborate on what you mean by smell. Please.”

He leans closer to you, that smirk on his mouth a provocation, so close that you can practically taste the whiskey on his breath. “You ever heard of mutants, dollface?”

—————

Now, seeing as that wasn’t the kind of conversation you wanted to have in public, you had tried to push him — Logan, his name is, you learn — back by his chest, but the man was an immovable object. Probably a good thing you’d ultimately decided it wasn’t worth trying to hit him.

“Excuse me,” you’d uttered, slapping a twenty dollar bill down on the bar top and slipping out of your seat carefully, quickly realizing how drunk you really are. When you right yourself, you turn to him and angle your head to the door behind you.

“We can have this talk somewhere else, yeah?”

Logan had looked up at the bartender, muttered, “Add hers to my tab?” and palmed your money to give back to you, following you across the room. When you’d tried to object, Logan had held his hand up and told you your money wasn’t good here anymore.

Now, you lead him through the door to your room, stripping yourself of your jacket and kicking at the dirty laundry on the floor at the end of the bed at the same time.

“Want to tell me what the fuck that was all about? Do I know you or something?”

“No, sweetheart,” Logan says, unzipping his moto jacket and slipping his arms from the sleeves, revealing a crisp white t-shirt and biceps thicker than your neck. You subtly try to shake your head, snap your attention away from them, but he smirks, catching your eye. “You don’t know me. But I think you’re like me. We’re drawn to each other, you know. It’s like some sort of…beacon, a homing device. I was coming to the bar anyway. I knew what you were, second I saw you.”

“And you think I’m…also a, what, a mutant?”

“Not think. Know. You seriously can’t think of a single thing recently that might have felt a little, I don’t know, off? Can you see things you couldn’t before? Have you been hungrier? Felt more on edge?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying and failing to think of any big change, but you come up short. Shaking your head, you glance back up at him. “No. No, everything’s been the same. I’ve been on the road a bit, moving from place to place, but that isn’t unusual for me.”

“Any particular reason you chose Westchester County to land on?”

“I don’t know…I just,” you blanch, realizing he’s right, except it hasn’t been one big change – it’s been little by little. “I felt drawn east.”

Logan considers this for a moment; you can see the ditch between his eyebrows deepen with thought, before he seems to come to some sort of conclusion.

“I think you been in fight or flight for a long time, trying to survive on scraps and strangers’ generosity. Let me guess. No family left? Nowhere to call home? Somethin’ big and bad happen to you?”

You say nothing and he watches a scowl slip across your face, humming when he realizes he’s cut deep, to the bone.

“C’mere,” Logan murmurs, and you take steps backward as he comes toward you, the backs of your calves meeting the bed. He holds his hands up, palms facing you. “Hey, okay. I won’t hurt you, I promise. I’m not in the business of scaring little girls.”

“I’m not a little girl,” you scoff, staring at him out of the corner of your eye as he advances, albeit a little more slowly, on you.

Logan shakes his head. “You’re still much younger than me, sweetheart.”

“What? You don’t look older than 31, maybe 32.”

“Yeah, well. Looks aren’t everything, okay? I’m just — I’m not in the business of scaring girls. I wouldn’t’a let you bring me back here if I was going to hurt you; that’s not who I am.”

You suppose you don’t have much choice but to trust him.

“I wanted you to come here,” Logan breathes, hands returning to his sides. He gives you a look, asking permission to move closer to you, to touch you, and you tip your head forward in a slight nod. “So I can do this.”

He grasps your forearm in his hand, places your palm on his bicep, and immediately winces. White flashes in front of your eyes, and a sharp pain nearly splits your head in half. You gasp his name, beg him to stop. When he pulls your hand from him, it almost looks like the print of it has been burned into his skin.

“I have a friend who’s an empath,” Logan murmurs, pupils blown, once his heartbeat has recovered to its resting rate. “She has to touch someone, to affect the way they feel. It’s good for, you know, calming people down in situations where they might be worked up. You, on the other hand…”

Logan trails off and you shake your head, bringing your arms up to fold across your torso, shivering gently. “What? I’m what?”

“I think, when you touched me, you made me feel what you were feeling. You were scared of me, huh? I could feel it, immediately. I could taste copper in my mouth, I started sweating.” Logan laughs softly, running his fingers across the skin of his right hand. “My palms are still sweaty.”

He’s still staring down at his hands, at the stretch of skin on his arm that still stings with the feeling of you. Your eyes rove over his handsome profile, at his strong nose. His jaw ticks when he looks back over to you, one eyebrow curled.

”Sorry,” he adds. “I didn’t know it would hurt you.”

Already walking past you, Logan gestures toward the bed. “Sit,” he orders, and you blanch and do as he says. He digs a cellular phone out of the front pocket of his jeans and ducks his head, disappearing wordlessly into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Groaning, you fall back onto the bedspread. Fuck, this whole ordeal has sobered you up, and quick. Why is there a strange man in your bathroom? You could make people feel what you’re feeling? What was going to happen now?

You run through every possibility — you could leave before he comes back, abandon your stuff, take your car and run — but by the time you come to any sort of conclusion, Logan emerges from the bathroom.

“C’mon,” he says, sliding his jacket back over his arms, zipping it up and gesturing toward the door with his head. “Got somebody who wants to meet you.”

You sit up straight and look around at your belongings. Logan seems to take this hint and starts gathering the articles of clothing strewn across the room, along with those still somehow neatly folded in the motel dresser, ignoring your protests and stuffing them in the suitcase open on the floor against the wall. After a few moments of watching Logan pull together your worldly belongings, you fumble with the drawer on the bedside table, open the bible, and pull out your passport and an indeterminate, but large, amount of cash. Logan eyes it but says nothing, and when you zip your suitcase closed, he picks it up for you without a word.

“You won’t need to come back here,” Logan mutters as you slam the tailgate on your truck closed. He points to the room you’d just left, then rounds to the driver’s side of your truck and starts walking across the parking lot, looking over his shoulder to shout, “You can leave your key in the room. There’s plenty of empty beds where we’re headed.”

“And if I don’t want to go?”

Logan stops and turns back to face you, his jaw set. “Pretty soon, people’ll figure out what you are, sweetheart. And they won’t take to you as nicely as I have.”

You snort. Nicely. But you know he’s right. It seems like things are a little different around here, for people like you. But you know that now you know what you are, that will change. As you’re trying to figure out what to say to him, Logan starts backing up.

You’re still unsure of how to talk to this man you’d only recently met, who’d already had a hand in changing your life fundamentally, but you hold a hand up, asking him to stop. He does. He watches you carefully, probably trying to decide whether or not you’re going to run away. You’re still not sure yourself.

“How did you know that you needed me to touch you?”

“Call it gut instinct.”

“It didn’t hurt, by the way,” you murmur, turning to look at him. A few paces away from you, one of Logan’s eyebrows arches, and you wring your hands together.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It felt good.”

—————

The place you’re headed — plenty of empty beds, he’d said — is less than a ten minute drive from the motel you’d been staying at, it turns out. Logan had told you to wait by your truck while he went back to the bar to pick up his bike, then drove ahead of you all the way there, your headlights illuminating the back of his body. Wrought iron gates await you, and they ease open as you pull up the long gravel drive.

Logan drops his kickstand and leaves his motorcycle directly in front of a large set of wooden doors, and you slow nearly to a stop, trying to decide where’s best for your truck. Logan’s one step ahead of you and dismounts the bike, pointing you toward a line of cars on the other side of the little lot, following you on foot as you shift into park and turn the vehicle off.

“What is this place?”

Logan is popping your tailgate open when you open your door and he pulls your suitcase from the bed — the act takes him little effort, you notice. You thank him and try to take the case from him, but he shakes you off and leads you to the building.

“It’s a school,” Logan says, pushing through the front door. Immediately you’re greeted with the sound of children’s laughter, of feet running on wooden floors, of voices echoing off walls in the distance. You catch the door as it closes behind Logan, trying your best not to be distracted by the subtle opulence of just the foyer.

Logan drops your suitcase by the front window, then unzips his coat, removes it, and hangs it on the coatrack to his right. “We’ll figure out your room situation soon, but I wanna take you down to meet Charles first.”

“Charles?”

“He owns the place,” Logan mutters, crooking a finger to indicate for you to follow him. “He’ll want to see what you can do.”

Pursing your lips, you decide to press your luck with Logan. “What about what you can do? Is it just the claws?”

Logan smirks, coming to an abrupt stop in the dark hallway. He turns to face you, and you can see his teeth shine as he smiles. “What? You hoping for somethin’ else, a bigger show than I gave you earlier?”

You stand your ground with him, but your heart is racing, and he cocks an eyebrow like he can tell. He relents, shrugging.

“I heal pretty fast, too.”

Charles’ office is behind the last door on the left, at the end of the hall, and you’re shocked when Logan knocks, rather than entering the room like he belongs there.

“Come in,” you hear, then realize you hadn’t actually heard it. It’s more like you’d felt it knocking around the inside of your skull. Your heartbeat picks up again.

“It’s okay,” Logan says out of the corner of his mouth. “He does that sometimes.”

The door opens, and you’re met with an almost-empty office — only a bald man sat behind a large wooden desk.

“So,” the man says, folding his hands upon the tabletop. No hello. No, it’s lovely to meet you. “You’re an empath, are you?”

“I — I guess?”

“Hm,” he murmurs, glancing at Logan, who stands behind you and to the left, slightly.

“She is, Chuck,” Logan assures Charles. “I felt it myself. She can show others her emotions, make them feel what she feels. She was scared when she met me — had my heart racin’. I could see myself through her eyes.”

He hadn’t told you that part, and you worry he’d noticed that your heart hadn’t only been racing because you were afraid. Charles clicks his tongue, and surveys you, your dirty shoes, the wild look in your eye, and clears his throat.

“If you wouldn’t mind, young lady, I’d quite like to feel for myself, as well.”

A blush heats up your face and you step forward, throwing a tentative look at Logan over your shoulder. He nods, dispelling any fears, and you step forward until you’re standing at the edge of Charles’s desk. You reach across, shaking, and take the man’s hand in yours.

“Oh,” Charles murmurs, his pupils dilated. “That’s certainly new. You’ve no need to be afraid, dear, we only want to help you. As I’m sure Logan told you, it’s a dangerous world out there, for our kind.”

“And we’re safe here?”

“Yes.”

Logan brushes past you and rounds Charles’s desk, leaning down to murmur something in the man’s ear. You can hear their hushed, hurried voices, but can’t make out what they’re saying, and the longer you stand there as an onlooker, the more out of place you feel. You shift your weight from your left foot to your right foot and look out the window as they talk.

The sun is setting outside — the late summer glow illuminating the office, warming your face — and you decide to clear your throat, drawing the men’s attention back to you.

“If it’s alright, I’d like to be alone for the night. I think.”

“That’s alright, yes,” Charles smiles, raising a hand and curling his fingers inward. The door opens behind you, and you jump. “This is a lot for one day, I understand. Logan, if you would show our guest to a spare room? One in your wing, perhaps, in case she is in need of anything.”

You glance at Logan and watch him nod, then turn and wink at you. You roll your eyes at him. He doesn’t know you, and the familiarity with which he interacts with you is unnerving, but at the same time, you find him intriguing.

It’s almost like the man you met at the bar and the man guiding you out of this room are two entirely separate people. The man from the dive was overeager, compensating for being the one thing there that was out of place. This man is relaxed. This is his home.

You wonder as you watch him if this is who he really is.

“Charles is telepathic,” Logan murmurs, almost as if he can also hear your thoughts racing. He glances over at you, holding your eye a beat too long. “He’s also telekinetic.”

“Hence the door opening on its own.” You pause. “And the creepy voice inside my head.”

Logan chuckles, shrugging and bending down to retrieve your suitcase from where it now sits at the bottom of the staircase. You watch the muscles in his biceps flex, your mouth suddenly going very dry. “You get used to it. People say he can read every mind within a two-hundred-and-fifty-mile radius of wherever he sits. Can’t imagine all that noise all the time.”

Humming your consensus, you follow him, gaze trapped between his broad shoulders. Even the back of his neck is enticing. “If he could read my mind, why wouldn’t that have been enough for him to know?”

“There’s something different about what you do,” he says, guiding you up the stairs to the second floor and down a long, carpeted hall. “It requires touch. Charles can read your mind, sure, but there’s more to your influence than just your thoughts. It’s baser, more animalistic.”

Finally, the two of you come to a dead end, and Logan opens the nondescript wooden door to your left. He walks inside without waiting to see if you’ll follow and places your suitcase down on the end of the twin-sized bed against the farthest wall.

“You need anything, I’m two doors down across the hall, okay? Seriously. Anything.”

You haven’t moved from where you stopped in the doorway to watch him, one fist pressed against the frame you’re leant up against. He brushes past you, so close you can smell his cheap aftershave, the whiskey on his breath still lingering, though he hasn’t once seemed drunk. The hint of something more pungent. You open your mouth — before he gets too far, you want to ask him the question you haven’t yet had the courage to voice.

“Logan?”

The man pauses, his face inches from yours. Your gaze flicks between his eyes, then down across mouth, to where his throat moves as he swallows. “Hm?”

“Why are you helping me?”

What you mean is, You don’t seem like a generous man. What you mean is, I’m not afraid of you, but I haven’t yet decided if I can trust you. What you mean is, Why me?

He pauses, considering your question, then places one hand on your bicep and squeezes. His eyes are wet, like someone who remembers too much and not enough. Before you can catch your breath, he’s moved on, that same hand now wrapped around the doorknob of his own room. A small smile graces the lower half of his face. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I got a habit a’ pickin’ up strays.”

—————

The days pass by quickly, and they’re exhausting. There’s a war brewing, they all say. A war none of you had ever asked to be a part of, but have no choice in joining. You wake daily before the sun rises, called downstairs to do endless exercises to strengthen your control over your ability, you’ve come to think of it as. The problem is that you’re not sure you’re capable of the things they need you to be capable of.

“Can we stop, for today?”

You’re bent at the waist, arms dangling, both hands clutching the opposite elbow. It helps you decompress. This isn’t physically tiring work, necessarily, but the mental strain is undeniable. You’re avoiding Charles’s gaze, which you know will have a disappointed glean to them.

“What, can’t handle it already?”

You perk up at the sound of Logan’s voice, and when you turn your head towards it, you see him walking towards you across the yard, light wash jeans slung low on his hips once again. The sleeves of his white tee are rolled up, straining against the corded muscle of his biceps, the collar cut into a V at the front.

Since you first met him, you’ve learned a few things about Logan: one, he’s Canadian. Two, he can drink you under the table, and he will absolutely let you drink yourself to sleep, but he always makes sure you end up in your own bed at the end of every night. And three, his powers are more than just the claws: he has a regenerative healing power, alongside superhuman strength, and superhuman stamina. The thought of that last one makes you blush.

You spend most evenings with him on the floor of your room, drinking cheap whiskey while he chain smokes and deals you in after every round of cards he kicks your ass at.

“Need to work on your poker face, darlin’,” he always says, smirking and shuffling the cards again with his lithe, thick fingers.

And on the nights when you can’t find sleep, he sits up with you in your room, reading Hemingway and Steinbeck and Fitzgerald, even some Stephen King, while you curl up on your side and let the even sound of his breathing lull you unconscious.

You get used to each other’s presence. You don’t talk much while you sit together – is there really anything more to say? He’d clocked you that very first day. You were alone in the world, before, but not anymore.

He doesn’t do this with anyone else, you notice. Allow them into his small circle of trust, or whatever this is. You’re friends, you think. He hasn’t let himself have many of those.

You’ve also learned a few things about yourself, the most important being that with some practice you no longer get a splitting headache using your ability; that you can control when and how you use it; and that you’ve been meditating on some other, perhaps more enjoyable and creative ways, to make use of it.

Although you’d tried to deny it from the start, unfortunately — mostly for yourself — the attraction you feel toward Logan is unshakable. He’s rough, and sharp, and impermeable, but he seems to have a soft spot for you. You can’t tell if it’s the circumstances under which the two of you met that have him feeling that way, but you’ve developed a fun back and forth over the last few weeks.

“What, sweet cheeks,” Logan pokes at you, left hand on his cocked hip. “Is it that hard for you, still?”

Shaking your head, you grin at him, one hand cupped over your eyes to block the sun behind him. You turn to glance at the back of Charles’s chair, already heading away from the two of you. Your attention falls back on Logan.

“C’mere, then,” you murmur, standing up straight and mirroring his body language. One of his eyebrows arches and his canine teeth appear as his smile widens. “I’ll show you how easy I can get it goin’.”

As he crosses the remaining bit of yard between you, that smug look on his face, you channel fury. You push every ounce of attraction and good will you feel toward Logan out of your mind, and you think: anger. I’m angry. At my circumstances. At what the world does to people like me. At how much I’m underestimated — at how much I underestimate myself.

By the time Logan has made it to your side, hand already outstretched, you’ve made up your mind. And you place one hand on the side of his face.

Immediately, you feel heat, but the cracking headache from that first day you’d met never comes. Instead, you feel an ache deep in your gut, a wave of want, of assurance that you’re where you need to be, with exactly the right person. You hold your palm against him for another minute and his face falls forward, towards your chin, before he wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls it away, gasping with relief when you let him go.

Logan’s cheeks are flushed, and when he looks back up at you, chest heaving, you realize he hadn’t felt your anger. You didn’t have much to be angry about — sad, sure; scared, yes — so anger must have been the wrong emotion to pull from. You’d wanted to get him worked up, but not like this.

Instead, you worry you’ve just ruined any ounce of trust the two of you had built between you. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leans away from you, his eyes running from the top of your head, down to where your own hands now sit at your sides.

“I’ll talk to you later, kid, okay?”

Logan doesn’t let you respond, instead turning to leave you standing, heart falling, lost in your head in the middle of the yard, while all around you birds chirp and children play.

—————

“Well, well.”

You jump, the back of your head snapping against the top of the inside of the fridge, and you groan, pressing the heel of your hand to the now-tender spot, pulling it away to see if you’ve made yourself bleed.

“Burning the midnight oil?” Logan laughs, padding across the kitchen and rubbing a hand against the top of your head where you knocked it. “Sorry, bub. You okay?”

“I don’t know. Ask me in a few minutes when my eyes uncross.”

You’re too focused on the feeling of his fingers against your scalp to think about anything else. You glance down at Logan’s flannel pajama pants and his bare feet. He grabs you by the shoulders and steers you against the kitchen island behind you.

“Lemme get you some ice.”

You watch, back pressed to the edge of the counter, as Logan pulls a tea towel from one of the kitchen drawers and a tray of ice from the freezer, popping them out onto the towel and folding it into itself, wrapping the tail to give you something to hold onto. You prop it against your skull — instant relief. You eye him warily, accusatory.

“What are you down here for anyway?”

“Same thing as you, I think.”

Logan refills the tray with water and places it back into the freezer, and this thoughtfulness surprises you, you’re embarrassed to admit. You wouldn’t have thought him to be so considerate. Then again, he had just handmade an ice pack for you. Your eyes glaze over and your mouth goes dry just watching his fingers work.

You haven’t seen him for days, not since you’d accidentally let him feel…whatever it is you feel for him. Every day when you’d gotten out of bed, even when that was before the sun rose, he would always already be gone from his room, the door open and his duvet cover tucked neatly underneath his mattress. He hadn’t taken any of his meals in the dining room with the rest of your peers, hadn’t joined in on any sparring sessions like he usually loved to do. His bike had stayed parked outside — you’d kept an eye out for it every day. You’d begun to worry that something had happened to him.

The silence starts to dig into you. You can’t help it; you have to break it.

“Thought you died, I didn’t see you for so long.”

“Yeah, well. I had some shit to take care of.”

You scoff at that. “I saw your bike outside, Logan, you never left the school. What kind of shit did you have to take care of?”

Another beat of awkward silence, and you can’t stand whatever wall has come up between you. You want to knock it down.

“You remember what you said to me in that bar?”

“What’s that?” Logan looks up at you, a sharp look in his eye. A warning, almost, but unfortunately, you’re feeling a little bolder than usual. Perhaps you’re concussed.

“You said that we were drawn to each other because of our abilities. I think maybe that wasn’t the only reason we found each other.”

He leans back against the freezer and stands quiet for a moment, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath. His dark eyes regard you in the dim light of the kitchen.

You step forward into his space, one hand coming up to press against his chest, through his shirt. The other, the one holding his makeshift ice pack, lands at your side.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat at your touch and he swallows around it, his heart stuttering under your palm. He’s waiting for the feeling to rush into and overwhelm him. It never comes.

Logan exhales, then reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Your cheeks flush a furious red and he chuckles at the feeling of it against his fingers. You’re tempted to shift your hand over to touch his skin, to fill him with this rush of unexpected desire you feel, but you can’t quell your thoughts that that would be a bad idea. Even though the position you’re in right now might be regarded as a bad idea, too.

Since you met, he’s made it abundantly clear he doesn’t see you as anything more than a friend — if that. But you’ve been replaying the other day in the training yard in your mind, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe he’s got the same desire you do.

“You know, you’re right,” Logan murmurs, and you cock your head, looking to his face for an explanation. He takes the towel full of ice from your hand by your side and holds it against your head for you. “What you think about me, it’s all true. I’m not a nice man.”

“I don’t know. You say that, but you seem pretty nice to me. You took me in. You’re helping me understand what I am, what I can do. Logan, fuck’s sake, you tuck me into bed when I drink too much.”

Logan laughs softly, tilting his chin to take you in from a different angle. Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“I just can’t figure you out. You act all mean and tough and scary, but I see the way you look at me, and I’ve only known you, what, a handful of weeks? I see how you are with some of the students. I see how you are with Charles. You got some deep, dark past you don’t want anyone knowin’ about, sure, but you’re a nice man, Logan. You’re soft on me. I can tell.”

Considering you for a moment, Logan’s lips parts to respond, then he thinks better of it. His eyes fall from yours to the way your chest expands with every breath. You’ve wondered about you and him, and that one look gives you all the courage you need to say it.

“Since I got here I’ve had this feeling, that with you and me, there’s something bigger. Tell me you feel it too, that I’m not goin’ crazy. And if you don’t, Logan, tell me that, then. Anything to stop this awful, sick feeling I get whenever you walk into the room.”

You wait to see if he’ll tell you to fuck off, that he doesn’t see you that way. That he’s soft on you, sure, but this is as far as it can go. Instead of saying anything at all, he surges forward to claim your mouth with his.

The kiss is hesitant, at first, before Logan can figure out whether you’re going to push him away or not, but when you open your mouth to deepen it, it turns furious. It’s all teeth, tongue, Logan’s hips caging you in and driving you back against the counter behind you. He’s got one hand wrapped around your waist, the other gripping the countertop, and when you carelessly bring a hand up to rest a hand against his cheek, Logan gasps against your mouth. The towel full of ice finds its way into the sink.

Shocked, he peels himself from you, panting. You hadn’t thought about whether you’d project or not when you’d touched him — and if his blown-out pupils are any indication, he’d felt it. All of it. The ache deep in your gut and the clench of your thighs. The flare of your nostrils as his scent hits you, heavy and earthy and masculine. The undeniable way you fit against him, your chest pressed to his, the shock of his hips aligned with yours, like you were made for one another. You want him to have you, have all of you, and with your palm still pressed to his skin, he knows.

“Is that really what you want?”

It’s practically a growl, and you pull your hand from him, allowing him to recover, but only slightly. He’s got himself worked up all on his own.

You can see in his face that he wants you, too. You nod, bring one hand down to clutch the waistband of his pants and tug him forward against you again. He groans, gathering some of your hair in one hand and gripping it tight.

“Sweetheart, I’m not exactly a — a gentle guy.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

Logan laughs, breathy, and tilts his head back to take you in. He throws a glance down at your hand tucked into his pants, the backs of your knuckles pressed against the swell of his stomach. “I didn’t have you pegged for the fuck-me-in-the-kitchen type.”

“I’ll let you take me back to your bedroom, if you want.”

Whistling lowly, Logan leans his face in close to yours, the tip of his nose nudging against your cheekbone. “And if I told you I wanted to take you right here?”

“I’d tell you that’s fine, too,” you swallow, angling your face up to try to press your lips to his, but his grip on your hair stops you. He grunts, tugging a little harder, so you have to look into his eyes. They’re soft, wary. For all the talk he talks, he’s a man of few words when it matters, and you can tell he can’t believe you’d want a guy like him. You’re not exactly a gentle girl, either, but he sees how much more the world has gotten to him than it has to you. You’ve still got the potential to be someone who wouldn’t want him.

“You really want me?” You hear the unspoken emphasis. You could have anyone else, and I can’t see why you’d pick me.

“Since the day we met,” you mutter, his breath against your mouth driving you insane. “Logan, please kiss me.”

He brings his other hand, the one that’s been holding your hips in place this whole time, up to press against your cheek, and he closes the distance between you once again. The hand still gripping his pants tugs them forward, and you can feel his insistent cock where it’s now pressing against you. You moan into Logan’s mouth and this seems to drive him mad, holding your head in his hands like you’ll float away and driving his tongue against yours, languid and fluid but at the same time persistent.

“C’mon, doll,” he says when you break away to gulp down a breath, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I got a queen bed in my room.”

As Logan drags you out of the kitchen and to the wing of the mansion where the two of you live, practically a world of your own, you trace your fingers down his back over the top of his shirt. His body shivers under your touch and he laughs, turning to look at you as he pushes through into his bedroom.

“Hey, yeah,” you murmur, watching him drag his shirt up and over his head, exposing his bare chest and the patches of short, wiry hair growing there, the vein on his lower stomach that leads your gaze down to wonder at the bulge in his pajama pants. You tear your eyes away and meet his smug stare. “How come I gotta sleep in a twin?”

He laughs at you, reaching out to curl his fingers around the bottom of your sweater and lead you closer to him. He hums, muttering, “Don’t worry about it.”

Then he’s kissing you again, your eyes closing at the sensation of his mouth against yours. His hands are underneath your shirt, skirting across your bare back and now you’re the one shivering under his touch. His fingernails scratch gently against your skin and you moan again, sighing into his open mouth. He smiles before pulling away, only slightly.

“Feels good?”

You nod, flexing your fingers at your sides. You can’t remember the last time someone touched you so sweetly. He catches sight of your hands and runs the tips of his own fingers down your arms.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says, mouth close to the shell of your ear. He tucks his teeth around it, too, gently, but you cry out at the surprising sensation. “You can touch me.”

You nod and place an open palm against his sternum, his bare skin heating beneath your hand. You want him to feel the way your mouth has dried at the thought of being beneath him in his bed. You want him to know just how far you’ll let him go. When you open your eyes to look at him, a different beast entirely has crossed his face. His mouth curls into a self-satisfied smile.

“Hm,” Logan grunts, nostrils flaring, teeth baring further. “I can smell how bad you want me, baby. Could down in the kitchen, too. I can feel how tense I make you. Do I still scare you? Huh?”

You shake your head, whisper, “No,” your voice hoarse. “You don’t scare me, Logan.”

“No, I didn’t think so. I don’t even think it scares you, how much you want this. I think it excites you. Think you been wonderin’ what it’d be like for a while, huh?”

Logan’s arm tightens around your waist and pulls you flush against him, your hand trapped between your chests. You gasp, the warmth of his body flooding yours, filling you with heat, with want, which then rushes into Logan, his eyes rolling back at the sensation.

“I wasn’t sure about you when I first met you,” he bites out, tilting his head to meet your eye again. “But fuck if I wouldn’t move heaven and earth for you now.”

Your heart stutters at the admission, the reassurance that you’re not alone in the way you feel about him. You peel your palm from his skin and sigh in relief when his gaze softens. Logan pushes his face into your neck, lips pressing tenderly to your pulse point, forcing a soft groan from your mouth. You feel him smile against you and when his teeth graze that same spot, your knees buckle beneath you.

Tucking your hands back between your chests, you push Logan gently away from you and he goes willingly, a sharp contrast to the man who was rooted to his barstool the first time you’d tried to touch him. The look on his face would frighten you if he hadn’t spent so much time convincing you he wouldn’t hurt you. His expression is dark, contemplative.

Logan’s eyes watch, hooded with desire, as you back away from him, your knees buckling when the backs of them hit the edge of his bed. As soon as you sit, he begins stalking toward you, your heart racing against your sternum, and you meet his eye just as he reaches you. Taking your cheek in his hand, he angles your face up and watches as your eyelids flutter closed. His hand travels down, fingers running over the side of your neck and cupping the warm flesh where it meets your shoulder.

“I can feel your pulse,” he murmurs into the warm air between you. “It’s racing.”

You gasp when you feel his hand search out your heartbeat through your chest. Opening your eyes to meet his again, you see that the desire in his face has been replaced with something that looks frighteningly close to affection.

He grasps your wrist, thumb rubbing against the soft, sensitive skin above your pulse there, and guides your hand to press against his own heartbeat, a mirror to yours, thundering in his chest, too.

“You do this to me. Not because you want me to know what you’re feeling, sweetheart, because this is how I feel.” He swallows, voice thick in his throat. “I want you so bad.”

The confession comes out rasping, like the words had been ripped from his chest. Your hand trails down his bare stomach, the backs of your knuckles dancing along the planed ridges there. The skin beneath your fingers jumps when you skirt across it. Pushing your fingers into the waistband of the flannel pants, you groan at the sensation of the heat coming off of his skin. “This okay?”

“Fuck, baby, you’re askin’ me if this is okay?” Logan’s hand comes up to cup your cheek once again, and you glance up at the grin on his face. It lights up his eyes. It’s like Logan’s fighting two different parts of himself: the very human desire to be gentle, to be careful, and the beast inside of him that wants to tear you apart.

Laughing, you tug down on the elastic, cheeks heating when you don’t feel another waistband. He’s bare beneath, and as you’re eye-level with his hips, you come face-to-face with his flushed, heavy cock as you strip the fabric from him. The tip of it weeps as you palm him, stroking him gently so his foreskin pulls back and reveals the crimson tint of it. You can’t say you’re shocked by the size of him, considering how large a man he actually is.

“Fuck, Logan,” you breathe, mouth watering, and you know the way you’re looking at him would be a bit embarrassing if he wasn’t looking at you the exact same way, his lashes fluttering as you push the adrenaline coursing through your veins into him. He wraps one big hand around yours and squeezes, groaning at the sensation.

“Here, baby,” he says, pulling your hand from his cock and placing it into your lap. He laughs when you whine in protest, stepping out of his pajama pants entirely and leaving himself naked. You’re still fully clothed and it almost pains you. “Plenty a’ time for me to stuff myself down your throat later.”

The way he says it has a low, fuzzy warmth rushing into your gut, but you quit your protesting when Logan kneels on the floor at your feet. “Lean back.”

You do as he says and inch yourself further up the bed, knees still hanging over the side of the mattress, anchoring yourself to his bedspread with your elbows. Logan crooks his fingers into your own pants, kissing the skin he exposes as he pulls them down, down, leaving you in only your tee shirt and soaked-through panties. He eyes them as you unconsciously angle your knees outward, but ignores your desire completely, instead leaning up to bite the hem of your shirt and drag it up and over your stomach.

Gasping, you rush to pull the fabric from the grip of his teeth and pull it over your head, tossing it to the floor beside the bed and cupping the back of his head in one hand, fingers tangling themselves in the hair at the base of his neck. You ease him upward, his palms pressed into the bed next to your waist, and pull him into a searing kiss, hoping to communicate how you feel without saying a word. Logan pants into your mouth and squirms out of your grip, pupils once again blown wide. He leans down to press his lips to the base of your throat, your elbow falling back to the bed to hold yourself up.

Your gaze follows his descent down your torso, watching as Logan drops a kiss to your breastbone, to the areola of your right breast, then to the one of your left. His lips engulf your nipple and you moan softly, biting your bottom lip when he flicks his tongue across it. He drags his lips down your stomach, settling against the knot of one soft peak of your hip bone. He bites gently and your stomach clenches at the feeling. When you place a hand against his cheek, his eyes flutter shut, his nostrils flaring at the feeling flooding his body. The pleased, humming warmth he’s making you feel.

“Logan,” you whisper, watching him continue down, mouthing at the skin on the inside of your thighs, kneading the soft flesh there. “Please.”

“Please what, honey?” You can feel him smirk against you. “Gotta use your words.”

“Please put your mouth on me.”

“Am putting my mouth on you,” he says, smug, and you gasp, tossing your head back when he bites you again, this time enough to make your delicate skin bruise. “Whaddaya want?”

“Want you to fuck me.”

“With my mouth?” Logan tuts, bringing one hand up to pull your panties to the side and expose your warm, wet flesh to the cool air of his bedroom. Your hips twitch. “You sure?”

You angle yourself up, trying desperately to find his mouth and claim it yourself. He laughs at the desperate want plastered across your face. “Oh, fuck off, you god damn tease, just fuck me.”

Logan shakes his head, leaning in to lick along your wet cunt and a sharp, bright cry rips itself from your chest. Your thighs try to close around his head as he presses his thumb into your pubic bone and holds you open, laps at your clit, but he growls and grips one in his hand, wrenching it away from him. His eyes shine up at you from between your legs.

“Why’d’ya wanna do that, huh, baby? You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t make it hard on me,” he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your clit and suckling gently while you cry out. He carries on like that for quite a bit – just his mouth against the most sensitive part of you, fingers pressing into your thighs. Your legs shake and you cover your mouth with your hand; you worry about coming too quickly until he eases up, pushing one finger inside of you to fuck you with.

Your hand grips the hair at the top of his head, and Logan groans at the pressure. Hissing, he presses his palms flat against the insides of your thighs to wrench them further open, encouraging you wordlessly to hook your feet across his back. When he’s satisfied, he crooks a finger around your panties and pulls until they tear, the shreds of fabric no longer an obstacle in the way of seeking out your pleasure.

“Want me to make you come?” The question is asked with his mouth pressed against your cunt, and you gasp, back arching, at the feeling of his words. “You wanna come on my tongue?”

You nod furiously, writhing as a second finger works itself inside of you, curling upward to meet head-on that spot inside of you that sends sparks behind your eyes. Your heels dig into the skin of his back and you reach down, blindly fumbling for Logan’s hand. He smiles wide and takes it, tangling his fingers with yours as your hips rut against his face.

He talks you through it between strokes of his tongue against your clit, his fingers pumping in and out as he tells you how good you are for him, how good you feel for him, how he can’t wait to feel you around his cock. You throw an arm across your eyes and whimper, hips twitching as you come down, pulling his hair and crying out for him to let up. He places one last kiss above your cunt, smiling as you gasp, and leans back to admire you.

Logan places your feet on the floor and plants his hands beside you, using the mattress as leverage to hoist himself up above you. He grins down at you and for however fucked out he already looks, you know you must look a thousand times worse.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss, giving you a taste of yourself by easing his tongue into your mouth. You can feel his cock, weeping and solid and insistent against your hip. Fuck.

You groan against him, your lips stretching into a smile as he kisses you languidly and reaches out to help you wrap your arms around his neck. “Here.”

Standing, Logan holds your body close to him. Your head notches into his neck and suckles there while he pulls you up the bed, settling you against the pillows underneath him. He props himself up on one hand as his knees push against the insides of your thighs, opening you up for him.

One hand on your flushed cheek, Logan fists his cock, smiling down at you. “Y’alright there, sweet cheeks?”

“Head’s fuzzy,” you murmur, reaching out to grip his hips with your hands. “Want you.”

Logan smirks, leaning back on his heels and running a hand through his hair, scalp sweaty. Your own fans out behind your head. He gawps down at you. “Look like a goddess like this, you know.”

Your blush deepens and you push a hand against his stomach. “Stop.”

“You do,” he smirks, leaning down to plant kisses across your face, down your jaw, to your neck. “Mm, so fucking pretty when I’ve just made you come. Smell so good.”

You gasp when he presses his mouth right behind your ear, gripping your hips. His cock drags across your stomach, a heavy reminder of his own neglected desire. You reach down to fist a hand around him and tug, pulling a groan from him.

“My girl want me to fuck her proper? Hm?”

Open-mouthed and with a heavy gaze, you watch as Logan sits back and fucks himself up into your fist, hips stuttering when you tighten your grip. His chest glistens with sweat, heaving as you push the burning feeling in your veins through to him. He gasps, stretching a hand down and holding your wrist still.

“Hey,” he growls, head thrown back. “Play fair.”

“Why should I?” He’s glaring down at you now, which only eggs you on. You shrug. “S’fun to watch you come apart like this, big strong man.”

Logan groans, pulling his hips back, and his cock falls from your grasp. “I’ll show you comin’ apart, baby.”

Sitting back on his heels, Logan wraps his hands around your hips and jerks them forward until your cunt is close enough to him that he would barely have to move his own hips to fuck his cock into you.

“You got a condom?”

“It’s okay,” you whimper, shaking your head. “Don’t need one. On the pill. I’m clean.”

Logan looks down at you, trying to gauge what headspace you’re in, if he should grab one anyway – and you shake your head. “Don’t need it, please.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” you repeat. He smiles, squeezes your hips tight. He nods, bringing one hand down to grip himself and ease toward you. Runs the head of his cock down your cunt, getting himself nice and slick, up and down and up again until you’re a panting mess, wiggling your hips. It’s torture. “Please, Logan.”

“Oh, now you’re askin’ nice?”

You groan, wild-eyed, and he wants to laugh at the look on your face but he chokes it back. You need him – bad – and he can’t say no to you.

“Alright, baby,” he says, hushed, gripping your thigh with the hand not currently around his cock. Guiding himself to your entrance, Logan pushes his hips forward, groaning as the head of his cock disappears inside of you. Despite how wet you are, the stretch burns, your body unattuned to his size. He presses forward, bit by bit, licking the tip of his thumb and pushing it against your clit to ease your discomfort, and you gasp at the feeling, eyes rolling back. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.”

Once he’s fully seated inside of you, he pulls your hips flush to his, leaning down to press himself to you completely. Hand still pressed to your clit between you, Logan circles his hips, watching your face, how you react. He watches your eyelids flutter, watches you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. He gives a shallow thrust to gauge your readiness, and you moan, low, in the back of your throat.

“S’okay,” you grunt out, hands braced against the outsides of his thighs, eyes trained on his lips. “Fuck, please. I’m so wet, Logan, please, please fuck me.”

Logan groans, your words going straight to his cock, twitching inside of you. He grips your waist in his hands and gives another exploratory rut, this time short, puncturing. Your breath is pushed out of your lungs. He rocks his hips back once again, pressing forward slow before punctuating the thrust with a sharp jolt, shocking the air from you once again.

Your nails dig into his thighs and he nods, his forehead rubbing against yours. “Okay baby, okay. I’ll fuck you, yeah. This what you want?”

His hips ease back, pulling his cock from your warmth almost all the way, before thrusting back in, deep, to the point. Then again, and again, and again. Your head has fallen back, Logan having to hook an arm around the back of your neck as you’re forced up the bed.

“You’re so warm, pulling me back in, sweetheart, so fucking wet for me. I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’re so tight, god, like you were made for me.”

“Fuck,” you whisper, mouth pressed to the side of his face. Your cunt tightens around him and you whine. “Already fuckin’ me so good.”

“You gonna come for me, baby? Yeah?”

“Yeah.” And you are. Again. You’re gonna come for him again. His cock is driving into you so fast you can’t escape the warm sensation in your gut – and you don’t want to. It feels so good, it’s like your whole body has turned to goo beneath him. You press a kiss to the underside of his chin, his beard scratching at your lips, but you don’t care.

“Yeah, baby? Can feel your cunt tight around me, can feel you ‘bout to come.”

“Gonna come, Logan,” you gasp, reaching one hand up and gripping the headboard as tight as you can, but your elbow still folds, your arm putty with the pleasure. He brings his other hand up from your hips to hold you by the top of your head, to keep you from slipping further up the bed, and your hands instinctively come around to clutch his shoulders.

Immediately the pleasure coursing through you lights every nerve ending in his body fucking alive. You feel him tense beneath your fingers, pulse quickening.

His hips snap down onto yours, his cock dragging up against that rough spot inside your cunt, as your orgasm floods through you. You hardly register the deep rumbling coming from his chest as you cling to him. Logan’s breath comes gasping as the feeling of your orgasm floods through him, too, hands gripping the flesh of your ass to hold you in place while he fucks down into you.

His eyes are closed tight, stomach clenching, and when you drag one hand down to rub circles on your clit, he buries his cock deep inside of you and holds himself there.

You scratch your nails gently down Logan’s back as he basically whimpers into the air between you, leaning up to catch his lips with yours as he rocks his hips, stuffing himself deeper, until you feel him come. He groans and spills himself into you, hips glued to yours, occasionally quavering with the aftershocks of his own orgasm.

“Fuck,” he huffs once he’s back in his body, one hand against your cheek, brushing your hair away from your mouth so he can press a kiss to them. His eyes search for yours, bright and enlivened. “You okay? Huh?”

You nod, your head loose on your neck, and he laughs. “Fuck,” he repeats. “That was fucking crazy. Is that how it feels every time?”

At that you sheepishly shake your head, eyes coming up to meet his. No, that’s not at all how it feels every time. You can tell by the look on his face he’s trying not to seem smug about that.

“That was good, though,” he murmurs, his face softening, “fuck, that was so good.”

He seems more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. You cry out when he pulls his cock from you, still holding your face and whispering sorry, baby, sorry. He presses a kiss to your mouth between apologies.

He unfolds himself from you and stands, running a hand through his hair. Pulling his pajamas back up over his legs and his shirt over his bare torso, he tells you he’ll be right back, and you must fall asleep after that because the next thing you know you’re curled up on your side while Logan runs a warm, wet washcloth across the inside of your thighs. You hiss at the sensation and he nudges a hand against your hip until you roll over onto your back.

“You sure you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you or nothin’?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, reaching for him and he obliges, dropping the cloth to the floor and crawling up the bed to wrap himself around you, slinging your leg over top of his. “You just wiped me out, s’all. And who thought you’d be so fuckin’ talkative in bed.”

He laughs and presses his lips to the end of your nose, his nose grazing your forehead.

You pull at his shirt and kiss him square on the mouth, a thank you for making you feel so good. So safe with him. Your bare chest is pressed to his, and you know he can probably feel how fast your pulse is racing, arms wrapped around your back. You still in his grip when you feel something pressing against your bare stomach.

He’s hard again. A fire reignites somewhere low in your belly, your mouth watering, and when you catch his eye, he grins, like he can read your thoughts.

“You wanna put that mouth to use now, sweetheart?”

396 notes · View notes

carajilloplz · 6 months ago

Note

smoke sesh w joost

sorry but yours truly is a lowkey pothead and i haven't smoked in forever because it's illegal in my state so i will be indulging

joost smoking headcanons

i am personally the type to go nonverbal but joost? he'll be the giggliest bitch in the circle. EVERYTHING will make him burst into the most contagious laughter, especially when you start coughing after taking too big of a hit from your bong. you never know why but it always makes him laugh and you just laughed along.

he's also the one who taught you how to roll a joint. once, when you confessed you didn't know how to, he sat you down and taught you how to roll one.

"yes, so keep tightening a little as you roll up... yes, just like that! and ok before you go all the way just give the edge a little lick. good! that's actually great for your first holy shit."

"now I never have to buy prerolls." you said, proudly holding up your lighter to your creation.

oh and the sex? amazing. we know that from bad habit ofc. he just loses himself and, once again, is an absolute munch especially while high.

you'll watch the weirdest things when high. you had finished the midnight gospel a million times, your heart always tender for joost on the last episode, and would have spongebob on loop when you couldn't pick. you'd gone through the entire harry potter series, all of the lego movies and your favorite so far that was new to joost was dazed and confused.

you guys also come up with the best munchies, especially when it's an idea that both of you come up with, like the cookie-oreo-brownie amalgamation that you made once.

"shut up joost! i saw it on tiktok and it sounds really good right now."

he shrugs, "ok fine, i trust you schatje. i'll get on with making the cookie dough"

and there's nothing better to him than just laying in bed on a lazy sunday and sharing a joint with you. no sunday scaries for the week because you'd gotten everything sone, so it was just you in his arms, the smoke curling around you two as the soft sun leaks through the windows.

"joost we are becoming sluggish, lazy, and unconcerned."

"stop quoting frank ocean's mom to me, oh my god."

A/N: um n e wayz i'm literally just pumping out content lol enjoy it before i start my internship...

#joost klein x reader #joost klein #joost klein headcanons

342 notes · View notes

m0nsterqzzz · 9 months ago

Text

Happy Wife Happy Life

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

pairing: Clarisse La Rue x fem!reader

summary: being Clarisse's "wife" will always have it's perks

a/n: honestly don't know how to feel about this but I'm tired. anyway, kinda hate the ending. and my writing lol.

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

Love is the greatest thing.

At least, in your eyes it is.

It can bring the strongest people to their knees, risking their lives or others lives just so that they can keep their person happy. It's always been amazing to you.

Not so much in your best friend Clarisse's. She'd much rather have the glory of being the strongest kid in school, or be feared by your classmates. "Love is stupid." She always tells you while she watches you study under the willow tree she likes climbing.

"No, it's not. It's powerful. You like powerful things don't you?" You'd say back with an airy laugh, then forcing her to come back down from the branches so you can help her with her math homework.

She's heard lots about the emotion called jealousy, but she'd never truly felt it until she saw Holly Bracken kiss your cheek during recess one day. The tightening of the chest, the way her throat went dry and she clenched her fist by her side from the other end of the black top and tried to stop herself from throwing the basketball in her hands towards the blonde girl's head. It wasn't a feeling Clarisse liked, and the feeling only went away when you were laying in her arms under the tree after school that day.

That warm afternoon, she'd asked you to marry her with a paper ring, one that you cherished for a whole week until it got caught in something and broke. You'd obviously said yes, the fact that you had a huge crush on her not exactly helping as you forced yourself to remember she was obviously kidding. Sealing the marriage with I do and then placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand like she'd seen done in the romantic movies her mother likes watching, you were officially hers. As long as you were her wife, Holly Bracken could no longer kiss your cheek with that ugly smug smile.

She went on to make sure of that, introducing you as her wife to anyone and everyone that was willingly to listen. You two were young, and nobody took it quite seriously until she saved up almost a full year's allowance money to buy you a nice looking- but still cheap- promise ring from the jewelry store downtown. It was a silent promise, one that she eventually voiced as you were sleeping over at her house.

"I'll be with you forever." She'd whispered in your ear, and you foolishly believed her.

She was gone three weeks later.

You didn't get a phone call, an email, or even a letter. She just....disappeared.

Her family stopped answering the door for you, seemingly purposefully avoiding you in town. It was months before you finally gave up, and it was obvious to anyone that looked hard enough you were slowly becoming a shell of yourself without her. Without your girl.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The only thing in your life that is weirder than Clarisse's mysterious disappearance, was the fact that a boy just told you you're a child of one of the Greek gods. You couldn't believe him. You'd learned about the gods in school, but there was no fudging way they were real. You'd only finally agreed to go to some place called Camp Half Blood when he rolled up one of his pant legs to reveal furry goat legs. Nothing will ever be weirder than that.

Just in time too, because right after you left the school building and started sprinting towards the forest across from the place, some giant winged creature that no one else seemed to see crashed through a window and started flying towards you.

Your protector, someone you learned is a satyr named Joey, lead you to camp with minimal death, which you learned is very rare when it comes to leading a demi-god to camp. It didn't help with the newly installed fear inside you, but you just simply nodded along with what he was saying as your eyes scanned the crowds of campers that are doing their own thing below the hill you stand on.

The moment you step past what Joey calls Thalia's tree, all eyes are on you. A new camper means special events so they feel welcome which means more fun for the campers and the drama of figuring out who their godly parent is.

You don’t have any belongings other than the clothes on your skin and the school pencil that’s brought you a strange sense of comfort on your long trip. A female camper with blonde hair and gray eyes comes up and introduces herself as Annabeth, helping you to the “Hermes” cabin to give you a camp t-shirt and new pants. She explains all the new campers go there, at least until they get claimed, which means the kids in there are either children of Hermes, unclaimed, or new just like you.

Since everyone is gone doing daily activities, you decide to just change in the cabin. It’s peaceful, the sound of campers laughter, birds in the trees.

Your blissful silence is broken when someone tightly wraps their arms around you from behind you and lifts you up in the air with a squeal, your hands flying to cover your bra-covered chest. “What the hell?!” You scream, but the profanities you were going to yell out die down in your throat when the person sets you down and you turn around to see Clarisse.

She doesn’t look much different, her hair a little bit grown out and her band t-shirts and jeans have been replaced by camouflage pants and an orange camp half blood shirt similar to the one you’re trying to put on. You’re so starstruck that you just stare, her arms still loosely wrapped around your waist as you stand there in only a bra and jeans. “Clar?” She nods, grinning brightly as she pulls you into yet another hug.

You’re much more aware this time, pushing her away harshly as you hurry to put on the shirt and then leave the cabin with a quick roll of your eyes. The curly haired girl is hot on your tail, attempting to grab your wrist to stop you before you pull it away as if she’s burned you. Her face is full of hurt, but your voice shows the same amount as you ask, “Why didn’t….why didn’t you call? Or email? Or-or send me a fucking letter? Just to let me know you were okay? That you came here.”

She sighs, eyes full of regret as they fall to look at her doc martens so she doesn’t have to see your sadness. “I couldn’t call you because a phone call is like sending a message out to any monsters that could be listening and find out where we are. Email, I don’t have any electronics cuz of the whole call thing.”

“And letter? I bet monsters don’t know how to read Clar.” The girl is silent for a minute, and as the silence continues is when you realize she doesn’t have an answer for you. You scoff, beginning to walk to who knows where again before she runs to catch up with you.

“I’m sorry, okay? I was scared. Gods, I was scared.” The worlds tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, and the campers around you fall silent as they stare with mouths agape in shock.

“Scared? What’s there to be scared of? It’s just me.” She nods, wordlessly reaching out to hold your hand. You let her this time and she feels relief flood through her. “Scared. I was scared….scared that you would hate me for leaving. I mean, what kind of woman leaves her wife?” She attempts a small laugh, and she takes it as a win that the corners of your mouth twitch upwards in the start of a smile. “I promised you forever and then left without another word. You had been looking at me through rose colored glasses our entire lives, I was scared those glasses were shattered. It’s not an excuse though. I should’ve sent you a letter, told you I was okay and told you how much I missed you.”

A small smile works its way onto your face, but she can still see the sadness in your eyes and she hates it. She hates it when you're sad. “Come here angel.” The girl hesitantly pulls you into her arms, almost crying when you relax into her hold and hug her back before she remembers where you guys are and how many campers are staring in shock at how sweet she’s acting.

“You have to understand that I’m still mad Clar. Even if you were scared, I spent years living in fear you were dead.” You mumble against her shoulder as you grip onto her like she’s going to disappear again if you let go.

The girl nods in agreement, cradling your head to her chest as she glares at the campers in an attempt to get them to leave you two alone. They do it.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Clarisse brings you to her cabin, cuddling with you in her bed as she tells you anything and everything that has happened over the past. She’s a child of Ares, and you spend several minutes that it makes sense after the amount of times she threatened other kids by saying she should hang them from the top of the flagpole.

By dinner time, it’s like no time has passed, and everyone’s eyes are on you as you two walk in with her arm casually placed on your around the back of your waist as she leads you to her table where her siblings are trying not to make fun of her. After a lot of begging and threats, Chiron agreed to let you sit at the Ares table for your first week at camp. “Hey guys.” Her happy tone is a rare one around her by the look on their faces, the smile even rarer as she sits you down next to her spot on the bench. “This is my wife.”

The whole room goes silent, all eyes trained on you as your eyes dart up to stare at her. “What are you-” She cuts you off with amusement dancing in her brown eyes.

“What do you want to eat, honey?” Clarisse asks you, and a son of Ares you know as Mark scoffs before he says, “The last time I asked you to get me food, you poured your drink in my lap and told me it wasn’t your job.”

The smile falls from your friend's face as she glares at him. “That’s because it isn’t my job.”

“Then why are you getting her food?”

“Because a happy wife equals a happy life alright? Now shut the fuck up.”

The smile is back as she turns to face you again, taking your order before she leaves to get that and her own food.

The rest of the campers go back to their meals, though they’re clearly gossiping about Clarisse’s supposed wife as they eat. It doesn’t make you feel very happy, but all the doubt is gone as your girl comes back and sits down next to you, setting the food down before her hand falls to hold your hand under the table the way she used to during lunch at school.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

A little bit later, you finish eating and join in the group of campers leaving the dining hall towards the campfire with Clarisse walking beside you. “My legs hurt.” You mumble while leaning closer to her. She doesn’t miss a beat as she picks you up bridal style, casually carrying you to the bonfire like you weigh absolutely nothing. Smiling at the sound of your laughter, she sets you down on one of the logs surrounding the fire. “What was that for? I could’ve walked.” You say as she sits down next to you before pulling you into her lap.

“What kind of wife would I be if I let you walk around while in pain?” She grins before leaning her head on your shoulder. She seems happy, and you recently learned she hasn’t felt that way in a very long time so you simply smile before leaving a kiss on her forehead. Her fingers lace with yours, her thumb caressing the back of your hand as she talks to her brother. It’s like no time has passed. Although you’re still upset, it’s nice to have her again.

Clarisse makes you guys some smores, a few people coming up every once and a while to introduce themselves and your friend introduces you the same way every time; “This is my wife.” By the time you’re making your way to the Hermes cabin with her walking by your side like a bodyguard, everyone in camp is aware of the “marriage”.

“I wish you could come stay in the Ares cabin.” She mumbles into the crook of your neck on the porch of Hermes cabin, and you chuckle while rubbing circles on her back. “I think you annoyed Chiron enough for one day.”

The daughter of Ares sighs, reluctantly nodding as she gives you a gentle squeeze before walking away. You watch her walk to her cabin for a few seconds, a permanent smile on your face before you walk inside your crowded cabin.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The next morning, it’s time for you to join in the routine of chores and training. It seems tiring, but Clarisse is by your side to help you with anything and everything so it’s okay.

“You’re getting better, hon.” She repeats for the 100th time in an hour, and your trust in her words is slowly fading as you sling the sword in your hands awkwardly towards the dummy covered in greek armor in front of you. The girl seems to notice your mood dropping, so she sighs and then stands up and walks towards you. You think she’s going to tell you to take the armor off just stop trying, but you shouldn't have. Clarisse was never one to tell you to give up on something. Instead, she places her hands on your hips, brown eyes straying from your face as she gently moves your body until you're standing in the correct way. You feel like clay under her grip, simply allowing her to position you as your face scans her features.

It’s like something pulling you to lean in, and it’s only when you're inches away from her face do you realize she is leaning in too. As if realizing where you are and what you guys are doing, she clears her throat and backs away, her hands following to rest at her sides. “There. Try again.” She begins to awkwardly walk away, her confidence gone as she almost trips over some armor left on the floor by another camper.

You nervously laugh, taking a deep breath before you slash the sword forward again. The sword feels much more natural in your hand, and it’s almost like an instinct as you angle it so it hits the unprotected parts so it cuts open the material.

Your friend cheers, rushing over to you and easily lifting you off the ground like you just won the olympics. Clarisse has always been that way, proud of every thing you could ever do. With a small laugh, you thank her and finally get her to set you down. “Well done wifey.” The words flow out of Clarisse’s mouth like they’re the most natural thing, and you fake an annoyed sigh.

“You know I’m not your wife right?” You say with a laugh, but she clearly doesn’t find it very funny.

“Then what's this?” Her hand moves to grab your hand, holding it up in front of your face and you try to ignore the way butterflies explode in your stomach from the touch as her eyes lock on yours. With rose colored cheeks- you decide to blame it on the heat and not the feeling of her hand in yours- you finally take notice of what she’s talking about; the ring she bought you when you were kids, snuggly placed on your left hand ring finger. It was a bit too big when you guys were younger, but it fits basically perfectly now.

“It’s a promise ring.” You mumble, walking away to take off the armor and put away the sword. “It’s the closest thing to a wedding ring I could get. And besides, red is my favorite color, the jem is red. It’s basically me, in a ring.” “I didn’t understand a single thing you just said.”

Clarisse sighs, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind the same way she did your first day at camp- though this time she doesn’t lift you up. “Sorry. Let me summarize. You’re my wife, and that is your ring.” You chuckle, turning around in her arms and trying not to think about the way you’re so close you can feel her warm breath on your face. “Fine. I’m your wife.” She takes the win, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek before she makes her way out of the training grounds to go wash up for lunch.

This girl is gonna be the death of you.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, Clarisse sneaks into the Hermes cabin. She’s used to sneaking out, but she’s never had a reason to sneak into this specific cabin and she almost bursts out laughing when she gets through the window and almost steps on a kid laying on a sleeping bag on the floor.

She easily manages her way through the sleeping kids to get to your bunk in the corner, cringing every once and a while when floor boards creek. You’re awake, staring at the wall and you reach under your pillow to grab a dagger Annabeth gave you when someone puts a hand on your shoulder and tries to shake you away so you can hold it up against their neck.

“Why the hell do you have a knife to my throat?” Clarisse quietly squeaks out, and you sigh in relief before putting the weapon back under your pillow for safe keeping. “I just…I’m sorry.” You think about telling her about the nightmare you were having not even ten minutes ago, but it looks like she’s already aware of it as she sends you knowing eyes.

“You can make it up to me by following me.” One look into her pleading eyes is all you need to reluctantly agree, and she helps you out of the window and then onto her back so she can carry you to the surprise she set up in the forest.

The sight makes you want to grin and cry at the same time; it’s a picnic set on the cliff overlooking the waterfall you told her was your favorite part of camp, all your favorite foods from the outside world placed accordingly on the blanket. There are little lanterns placed all over, lighting up this specific part of the woods. You can clearly see the stars, one of your favorite things, and the cozy feeling of the date-like setting goes against the summer breeze of the night.

“So? What do you think?” Clarisse nervously asks as you look around in awe. “I….I love it Clar.” You reply, pulling her into a tight hug. “How’d you get all these foods?” You quest with a grin. She innocently shrugs, but she’s got a mischievous look in her eyes that only appears when she does something bad. She won’t tell you that she snuck out of camp the same way she snuck out of her cabin to go to the mortal world, sneaking back in a throwing herself into a bush when Mr. D almost caught her.

She sits down on the blanket, patting the spot next to her and then pulling you into her lap when you sit down. “This is so nice….but why?” “Why?” “Why’d you do it?”

Clarisse chuckles; “Because my wife deserves best.” There it is again, the phrase that brings a blush to your face no matter how many times you hear it. “Well, thank you.” She nods, grabbing a chocolate covered strawberry and taking a hesitant bite before humming in satisfaction. “That’s really good.”

You two spend the rest of the night talking and giggling as you cuddle up to her and eat the delicious foods, and by the end of the night you’re lying with your head in her lap as she runs her fingers through your hair. “One day,” She starts, leaning down to kiss your forehead before she continues speaking; “I’m gonna marry you for real.”

With a small laugh, you nod, staring into her brown eyes as you sigh. “I’m okay with that.” You whisper, and for a second it seems like she’s leaning down again. It’s proven she is when her lips connect with yours. Her lips are slightly chapped since she always forgets to put on chapstick before she leaves the cabin, but that doesn’t matter as she’s kissing you like she’s been starved for years. Technically, she has been.

She pulls away, watching with a nervous smile as you attempt to catch your breath and stare up at her in awe. “Was that-was that okay?” You slowly nod, sitting up and then turning to face her before you grab her face in your hands and kiss her once again. She seems surprised, but she quickly adapts as her hands move to your hips and firmly grip them.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the day you agreed to be my wife.” She whispers as she pulls away and leans her forehead on your own. You giggle, giving her a quick kiss in between love sick giggles. “Me too.”

She begins to talk again, but the sound of hooves galloping near and a loud voice calling out, “Who's there?!” makes her panic. Chiron. You panic as well, and you both messily pick up the empty plates and blanket, shoving it all in the basket and taking your hand in the one that isn't holding the basket.

The galloping is getting closer, and you both begin to run back into the forest- on the way back to camp but still in the opposite direction of Chiron.

You both begin to laugh as you almost trip over a branch, and you have to bite your lip and hold a hand over Clarrise's mouth so Chiron won't hear.

You eventually make it back to the cabins, and you both slow down to a light jog as you near the Hermes cabin. She brings you back to the still open window, and helps lift you up into the slightly cold room. You take off your shoes, and are about to wish her a goodnight and go to bed when you turn around to see her lips playfully puckered.

You chuckle, walking back to the window and giving her a small peck on the lips. “Goodnight Clar. and thank you for a wonderful night.” She smiles. “It was only wonderful because you were there. Goodnight angel.” With that, she leaves towards her own cabin, and you're left staring at her leave with a love sick smile and look in your eyes.

At the edge of the forest, Chiron watches the sweet goodnight with a small smile. “Well I'll be damned….Clarisse La Rue is a softy.” He begins walking to his own cabin with a content sigh. “But they better not sneak out again.”

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

#clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #pjo x reader

922 notes · View notes

circeyoru · 9 months ago

Note

Hello you beautiful and amazeing writer!! I'm here to make a request that is more on the funny side (btw, I love ur stories. Unwanted soul being one of my favorites, lol)

That cursed cat Alastor is EVERYWERE!! And u know what? I give in... Could you write something funny where yan!Alastor is jelous of the cat? Like, he would be like:

"Me or the cat!?" And reader, with no hesetation, "The cat *takes cursed cat Alastor and leaves*". Then someome comes in "Damm, they didn't even think about it" (please tell me someome gets the reference😭)

That cat can have my fricking soul, I love it so much and it makes me laugh so bad udgdihdudhe. ANYWAYS!! Hope u have a good day/night!!! Heudhsudhjdgdhs

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

Hi hi! Thanks for your love!! I agree that cursed cat Alastor is everywhere. More request and ask on him in my inbox!!

Okay, here is short part on Cursed Cat Alastor VS Yandere!Alastor. For easy distinction, I'm calling the cat Bambi.

Alastor's eyes twitched as he glared at the lookalike in your arms; that was his place when he came to you after working so hard for the little interest project you sent him to. The creature, Bambi as you named it, narrowed its eyes as it felt Alastor's death glare towards it, its smile widened as it felt the jealous aura radiating off of the demon.

"Darling, can't we have a meal without that inferno creature in your arms?" Alastor tried to ignore the thing and his ever-growing jealousy. Meal time was a time when you weren't absorbed into your artistic worlds, now your attention was on that damn cat! That looked like him! Smiles and all!

"Then where do I put it?" You continued to eat, ignoring how Bambi clawed some of the smaller pieces of meat to eat from your plate.

"Out the window." Alastor passed more meat onto your plate when he saw Bambi taking yours and you didn't react to it. "And on the streets of Hell where it belongs."

You chuckled, eating up the slice that Alastor passed to you first, "That's too mean, Alastor. I won't have the heart to do it because it looks and acts so much like you!"

Alastor's radio glitched and scratched, his eye twitching, "Me or the cat!?"

"The cat." You spoke and picked it up, ignoring Alastor's shock look and left the dining room.

Vaggie shifted to the side, as did Charlie, to let you passby. They looked over to Alastor, who was still sitting there, shocked and frozen. Angel poked his head in, taunting, "Woah, harsh. Your 'darling' didn't even hesitate."

Angel was immediately thrown somewhere by Alastor's tendril, making Vaggie rush to check up on him. Charlie came over and comforted him, "You know, we're having a fun movie night later, maybe you can—"

"Ha ha ha! Never will I watch those noise picture box!" Alastor declined quickly slapping off the hand she was going to put on his shoulder. "If you'll excuse me."

"Where you going?" You questioned as you re-entered the dining room.

Alastor double-checked to see if he was mistaken. His lips moved before his mind fully processed it, "Where's the cat?"

You took your plate and utensils, then went over to Alastor's side, nudging him to sit back down with your elbow before placing it down next to his. He pulled out the chair and pushed it in while you sat, then he too sat down. His eyes staring at the empty spot that would always have that creature and his ears listening to your honey words. "I left Bambi with Husk to take care while we have our meal. What? Now you want Bambi back?"

Alastor's mood brightened, "Of course not, My Love!" He took your hand and kissed it, "Let me cherish you without any distractions."

You giggled, using your free hand to pick up a piece of meat and feed it to Alastor, who ate it happily. "Right..."

"Oh, now it's even more delicious!" Alastor's eyes drooped as he smiled at you, "You should do this more often, Love."

BONUS:

Husk stares at the cat on his bar table; it growled at him with its fur all bristled like a porcupine. Husk inched away slowly to create distance from the creature that you gave him to take care in your absence. Angel came in, laughing out, "Oh! So you were the one! Ha! AHHHHH!!!!!"

Bambi pounced at Angel, biting at him with every opportunity given. Husk yelped and immediately came to help, "Uh, good cursed kitten?"

Angel screamed, "GET THIS THING OFF ME!"

Back in the dining room, you hummed as you cut another piece of meat and feed it to Alastor. He grinned darkly at the screams he heard, "My Dear, you're quite cruel."

You smirked back, "Well, Angel was being a loudmouth."

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul #cursed cat alastor

527 notes · View notes

cannibalizedlove · 5 months ago

Note

jus stumbled on ur acc and IM IN LOVE I jus read the stalker!donnie fic and was wondering if there's a scenario where reader actually knew the entire time and is equally obsessed (basically self inserting LOL). but anyway idk if u write smut so maybe reader teases him abt it when they're having a lil makeout sesh in the couch and readers all like "its kinda hot" and says some crazy shit that makes donnie. whos as deep in the pool of obsession as you gets hellaaaa flustered EEEK I'm going crazy I fucking love donnie

Thank you for the request!! I think this is such a good idea, mutual obsession is just.. chef kiss. I hope you enjoy <3

The feelings mutual.

Information and warnings — smut!*, part twoish of “watching you”, male reader, donnie and reader being horny messes, donnie’s first time so you ruin him :((, reader being a kinky freak which is perfect for him, heavy corruption kink, donnie being a loser bottom bitch (affectionate). this is so long, i apologize ahh, i just love him so much.

You had been going with Donnie for about three months now, and you were infatuated with everything about him.

You loved hearing him talk about whatever new conspiracy theory he bought into, and you were always there to help him during his hallucinations.

Donnie was completely and utterly obsessed with you, he did everything for you. Even though you were perfectly capable of doing your homework, Donnie would always snatch it from your backpack and do it for you, he never let you lift a finger. It was crystal clear that you had him whipped.

Before the two of you got together, Donnie was just as obsessed with you. The huge perv was constantly watching you through your windows, following you home, and of course, stealing your underwear. What Donnie didn’t know is that you were completely aware of his stalking, and how you were completely turned on by it.

The two of you were sitting on his couch in the living room, his parents and siblings were out to dinner while Donnie was supposed to be at his therapy session with Dr. Thurman, but skipping it one time wouldn’t hurt, right? Seeing how you were like his medication, except you actually worked and didn’t just make him drowsy.

The two of you were watching a corny horror movie, you had already connected the dots and figured out who the killer was, though, it didn’t matter anyways because neither of you were paying attention. You were leaned against his warm body while Donnie was squeezing and touching every inch of you that he could grab.

You let out quiet moans as he began to kiss behind your ears and onto your collar bone, reaching up and softly running your hands through his short hair. The two of you had never gone farther than this before, and it was slowly killing Donnie.

He needed you more than he needed air, you were the most angelic thing he had ever seen, he wanted nothing more than to ruin your pure image.

“Donnie, I know a lot about you.” You softly spoke, your words interrupted by little moans and laughs when his lips would tickle your neck.

“Yeah? Like what, angel?” Donnie smiled against your skin, drawing invisible circles on your exposed skin.

“I know that you have extensive knowledge on time travel.. and that your favorite cartoon is The Smurfs..” You chuckled at the last part, earning a playful eye roll from the boy and a gentle push; “..and I also know that you like to steal my underwear.” You finished your sentence by grabbing his jaw.

Donnie instantly froze and his heart sank into his stomach. His eyes were wide and he swallowed thickly before coming up with a lie on the spot.

“I don’t know what you mean, I wouldn’t do that.. That’s a total invasion of your privacy!” He began to breathe heavily, he felt like an animal caught in a cage with no way out.

“Oh, and you would never invade my privacy, right? You would never follow me home.. or sit by my window and watch me?” You had moved positions from laying on him to now straddling him sitting on his lap. You drew out your words softly into his ear, feeling him shake from anxiety.

Donnie knew he couldn’t lie his way out of this, he knew he was caught, and he was terrified. Was this the end? Were you completely disgusted with him and you were just stringing him along to hurt him? He couldn’t believe that, you were too sweet, too perfect, he didn’t want to lose you over his uncontrolled attraction to you.

“Do you.. hate me.. for it?” Donnie looked up at you with glossy eyes, trying to swallow his fear but failing miserably.

You couldn’t keep playing with him like this, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but you couldn’t help but find him attractive with his quivering voice and worried eyes.

“Oh, Donnie.. I could never hate you.” You lifted his chin to hold eye contact with him, and ran your free hand through his hair. “If anything,” You paused, letting his jaw go, and leaning forward, leaving your lips just an inch away from his.

“It’s kinda hot.” You finished your sentence, pushing your lips into his with a hard kiss, leaving Donnie completely surprised.

He couldn’t believe it, he was afraid of you being horrified of him, yet here you were making out with him because of it. Donnie knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the tent that was growing in his pants.

The kisses were only broken by the loud moans that left both of your mouths, the two of you couldn’t get enough of each other. You began to grind down on his crotch, pulling on his hair. Donnie bit down on your lip, resulting in a sharp moan from you. He latched onto your neck, attacking it with bites and wet kisses. You were in complete bliss, the only things you could think about were Donnie’s teeth pulling on your skin and his hand creeping up to your throat.

Donnie pulled away, placing his hand on your throat harshly. Both of your lips were swollen, and Donnie’s face was completely flushed, he smiled as he watched you pant like a dog, and he began to palm you through your jeans that had become 2 sizes to small, enjoying every moan that you cried out.

You looked incredible like this, he thought, your eyelashes wet from the tears that welled up from Donnie’s painful bites, your hair completely unruly, falling perfectly infront of your face, every bit of your sight was driving him crazy. It honestly amazed him how he was able to keep himself from ripping every bit of fabric off of you and making you cry, but Donnie didn’t wanna scare you off; so he kept his composure, at least this time he would.

You began to roll your hips into his hand that had a tight grip on your painfully hard bulge, moaning loudly into his open mouth, holding onto his wrist of the hand that was on your throat, causing him to squeeze ever so slightly harder. You felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough, you needed to feel him.

“Please.. Donnie.” You said breathlessly with your eyes screwed shut. Donnie didn’t know if this was real or a hallucination, he had thought about this moment every time he masturbated with your stolen underwear, but now that it was actually happening, he felt wildly intimidated.

“I’ve never.. I’ve never done this before.” Donnie halted his movements, hanging his head low in embarrassment, worrying that the fact he was still a virgin would turn you off; only to find out that it made you want him ten times more, if that was even possible.

“That’s okay.. I can teach you, I promise.” You grabbed his chin, lifting it back up to your gaze, watching his already red face turn brighter.

Donnie nodded wildly, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you stand up in front of him, taking your jeans off. He swore that if you looked hard enough, you could see a pool of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. When you had finally gotten your jeans off, which felt like years to the poor horny mess, you sat back down on his lap, kissing his forehead gently.

You gestured to Donnie to lift his arms up, and he instantly followed the command, lifting his arms up and swallowing thickly as you took his shirt off. Your lips ghosted over his as you ran your hands down his chest, taking note of how he bucked his hips subconsciously when you ran a finger over his nipple.

“We can start off simple, is that okay?” You smiled sweetly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, watching his every movement to make sure you didn’t cause him any discomfort. “Yeah.. yeah that’s okay.” Donnie said, completely out of breath, his hard on becoming increasingly more painful.

You brought his hand down to your bulge once again, giving him a soft kiss as he circled your tip through your boxers. “You can take them off — please, take them off.” That simple command was all it took for him to completely rip off your plaid boxers, exposing your dripping cock to the cold air of the boys house. Donnie gripped you instantly, running his thumb over your slit with a half swallowed moan escaping his mouth.

“Fuck, Donnie..” Your face was buried in the nape of his neck, kissing it every once in a while to try and stifle your increasingly louder groans. Donnie had his free hand on the back of your head, holding you close to the sweet spot behind his ear you kept attacking. “You’re so fucking pretty..” He cried while continuing to work your length, he could feel his own pre completely soaking through his underwear. You began to roll your hips once again, feeling like you were on cloud nine, but just before you could come undone in his hand, he pulled away, holding your waist tightly.

“Can I.. you know…” Donnie whined, despite the fact that he had the nerve to stalk you, and break into your home, he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words ‘fuck you’, it was pathetically adorable.

You chuckled and nodded your head, kissing his cheek before sitting on your knees and helping Donnie remove his jeans. Something about you doing everything for him, and teaching him how to fuck you was deliciously exciting to him. He loved the idea of him being completely tainted by you, even if he had originally dreamed of the roles being reversed. With his jeans now removed, you kissed him one final time before curling a finger in his waistband, pulling his boxers down to his ankles.

Donnie looked away bashfully, his length twitching quickly, leaking pre like a hose. You bit your lip, taking a mental photo for use later. You hovered over him, holding his hard cock tightly as you lined it up with your hole.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, kissing the top of his head, making sure that he was ready to be taken like this. Donnie whined out in frustration, he was never good with patience and it was on full display here. You laughed at his needy response, and slowly began to sink down onto his dripping length. Donnie instantly threw his head back, grabbing your waist and digging his short nails into your skin. Your mouth hung open, sinful noises filled the room from the both of you as you bottomed out onto him.

Donnie’s eyes began to water from the sheer pleasure, and he held you like his life depended on it. It took you a second to adjust to his size, but you started slowly moving up and down, making Donnie completely loose it. His quiet demeanor was totally lost at this point, nothing but whines, cried out moans, and loud “fucks”, and “please’s” left his mouth. Nothing filled his mind except the feeling of you wrapped around him, and your pretty facial expressions. The poor boy was totally overwhelmed, fat tears began to fall from his eyes as he got closer to his climax.

The sight was enough to push you over the edge, he looked completely wrecked, and it was a gorgeous sight. You pushed yourself forward, latching onto his lips and grabbing his face tightly, his tears transferring onto your cheeks as you kissed. You became undone onto both of your chests, thick ropes covering Donnie’s frail body. Donnie broke the kiss with a loud cry, hitting his climax and losing himself inside of you. He held you tightly to his body as he pumped you full.

After a few moments of silence, that let both of you gain your composure, you let out a breathy laugh, kissing your fucked out boyfriend all over his face. You watched as his chest heaved up and down as he blinked tightly, trying to regain all of his senses. Donnie kissed your lips softly, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle hug.

“Hey.. how did you know all that stuff? Have you like.. done this before?” Donnie said, a thick sense of jealousy flowing through every word.

“No, I just watch a lot of porn.” You chuckled, a devilish smile running across your face.

Donnie let out a breathless moan as he flipped you onto your back, just the idea making him ready for a round two.

#donnie darko x reader #donnie darko fanfic #donnie darko #donnie darko x male reader #fanfic #male reader #donnie darko smut #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal smut

371 notes · View notes

simpxxstan · 4 months ago

Note

hi i would like to req cheol x fem!reader with the song you are in love by taylor swift. thank you!

congrats on 500 followers btw 🫶🏼

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event (closed now)!

thank you for this request, really hoping you like it! i'm not a swiftie so i was unsure of how to interpret the song prompt. hope i did it justice! posting very very late, thank you for being patient for so long <3 happy bday month to cheollie!!! i love him so much and this couple too. i think i might write a few more drabbles for them later lol

genre: coworkers to lovers, friends to lovers, fluff

word count: 3.3k words

warnings: reader is fwb with an oc (not seungcheol).

"you are in love!" your best friend says. "yeah, i know." you sigh, "that's why i've been ranting for so-" "no, silly! not with jay. you're in love with seungcheol!" you had laughed off her words, wondering if she'd become tipsy way too fast into your girls' night.

but when you're lying in your bed later that night, the thought lingers in your mind- the alcohol clearing up and making you progressively more sober as the cold air from the open window hits you, while your friend snores soundly next to you.

"think about it." "i am thinking ab-" "no, you've never really thought about this before. think about it clearly." you'd laughed heartily at her faux-wisdom, which always appeared after finishing two cans of beer.

but she's right. you have actually never thought about this. you've been so obsessed with getting jay to like you that you've never really given a second thought about seungcheol... and what he really means to you now.

"i'd expect more from a stats major and a data analyst, honestly. aren't you supposed to be logical and rigorous-" you slap her arm while doubling over with laughter, knowing full well that she's imitating the words of an infamous professor in your college. "i am being logical. we're just coworkers."

were you?

now that you think about it, certainly not. you're more than coworkers. more like friends. more like best friends. in fact, he's the closest friend you've made since your days in college. just coworkers don't buy each other their favourite drinks when the other has a bad day. just coworkers don't hang out for hours after work nearly every other day. just coworkers don't invite each other to parties with their separate friend groups. just coworkers don't have inside jokes that prevent you from forming friends with anyone else in the office.

your mind travels back to last thursday, when seungcheol had saved your ass for the nineteenth time this year when you'd arrived late by preventing the boss from noticing.

and the thursday before that, when seungcheol had dropped you home after he'd found out that jay had made you cry during an argument in the break room just before work got over.

and the thursday before that, when you'd gone with seungcheol to taste the menu at three different banquets because he was busy planning the wedding of his best friend, joshua, and needed an unbiased taster.

did just coworkers know everything about each other? including his dentist appointment's dates, the last time you went grocery shopping, the last time he went to watch a movie, the vitamin supplements you eat after breakfast, and so much more.

you smile in the darkness. no, you and seungcheol could never be just coworkers. you're best friends, nothing less of that.

but love?

ah, no. you'll bet your life on this one. you've been in love before. and what you feel for seungcheol is nothing like it.

your heart hammers in your chest as you ring the doorbell again, the weight of the melting cake heavy in your hand. you distinctly remember jay telling you that he'd be home tonight, then why wasn't he responding to his calls nor opening his door?

you're answered about twenty minutes later. you're sitting on the stairs in front of his flat when you hear him walking up the stairs... and there's someone else's voice too. a female voice.

"y/n?"

words get caught in your throat when you see mina, the new intern fresh out of a college, walking right beside him, arm looped in his, a hickey prominent on her neck, freshly bruised.

"why are you here?" she asks you, and you wince.

"i wanted to surprise you... for your birthday! sorry, i- i didn't know you had plans."

jay smiles as he looks at mina next to him, and pulls her closer. "no, mina actually surprised me too. and we went out dancing. sorry, have you been waiting for long? you should've call-"

"i did."

jay pulls out his phone and checks it. "oh shucks. you've been calling for the last twenty minutes," he takes a step forward and leans in to kiss your cheek, lightly. "you can join us for dinner? i'm sure mina won't mind." mina definitely minds, because she looks like she's going to shoot you down in a matter of seconds.

"nah, i'll just leave. happy birthday though. i can see you had a good one." would you be petty if you didn't give him the cake?

"sorry for making you wait for so long, y/n-ah."

one year and four months.

"no worries, man. enjoy your night. bye mina!" and you smile, like the stupid people-pleaser you are. at least you brought the cake with you.

"what's up?" seungcheol opens the door and you smell the heavenly aroma of fried noodles from his kitchen greet you.

"thank you for opening the door."

seungcheol raises an eyebrow at you. "why would i not open the door? you're literally-"

"yeah no, that's cause jay didn't. he went out with mina, it turns out." you stuff the cake into his fridge and stand next to him where he's cooking in a wok.

"mina? intern mina?"

"yeah. they made out too... so i'm guessing it wasn't friendly."

seungcheol scoffs. "mina joined, like, last week."

"two weeks."

"he switched you up for her although he's been with you for a year and a half."

"she's twenty-two, cheol. i'm pushing thirty. i'm not sexy anymore." you bite your lip as you look at the word puzzle in the newspaper on the coffee table. seungcheol doesn't reply immediately, so your heart sinks a little further. even if he doesn't subjectively find you sexy, he could just say it to console you. well, but it's a stretch to even expect that from-

"you're the sexiest woman i've ever met." seungcheol says, his voice softer, as he plops down next to you, holding two bowls filled with the fried noodles. he begins to eat wordlessly, legs propped up on the coffee table, almost inhaling the food. if you move your leg a little, your bodies would touch.

you don't reply. you can't reply. you start eating the food too, relishing the flavours in silence.

"want some more? there's more egg bits towards the bottom, i know you-"

"it doesn't matter if you think i'm the sexiest woman. clearly he doesn't."

"is jay the only person whose opinion matters?"

"are you really asking me that?"

"what i am asking you is that you've wasted one year and a half pining over a man who doesn't care for anything more than sex, and you still hope he's worth your time?"

your breath stutters. seungcheol's staring at you, and you feel shameful and self-conscious suddenly. all the fire and rage from your earlier comments dissipate and you sigh.

"you think i don't have a chance at all?"

"jay is an asshole, y/n. i think that you shouldn't care about him at all. but that's just what i think. my opinion doesn't ma-"

"shut the fuck up," you extend a hand to grab his wrist and make him look at you again.

seungcheol does look at you again but doesn't say anything.

"my best friend says i like you."

seungcheol's fork clatters in his bowl and you both turn to look at each other.

you have no idea why you say that. sure, it's been on your mind all day, all evening, and suddenly you feel like you're on your toes around him through the day. even when you two sat together at work, you'd become oddly conscious of his presence in your periphery, which has never occurred to you before.

"do you?"

and you have no idea why he says it either. in all the million possible options of things he could've said right now, you'd never imagined him asking this to you right on your face.

so you have nothing to say, except a very shaky, a very feeble, "i don't know."

the next day, two things happen.

first, seungcheol isn't talking to you. well, he is talking. but not properly. talking like could you press the elevator button or do you want some grapes or did you read the mail.

second, jay's talking to you a lot. he follows you into the break room and apologises again for standing you up on his birthday night.

"it's okay really. i hope you had a wonderful time with mina." you don't make eye contact, not really interested in listening to his whining, instead more focused on making the espresso you know that seungcheol craves during the afternoon.

"i... just wanted to clarify. there's nothing between us, you know. nothing going on." "you don't have to clarify that to me-" "i know. but still. wanted to know if it's all good between us." you push your tongue into your cheek to stop a curse from coming out. finally you pick up the two mugs of coffee and face him. "yes jay, all's good." jay smiles widely. "so are we on for the annual company dinner for this weekend?"

shit. you'd forgotten about that.

"umm-"

"but we go every year!" and jay throws you those puppy eyes that bring out the wrinkles next to his eyes that were the first reason you'd fallen for him.

it, surprisingly, doesn't make you feel weak in the knees.

"i'll confirm by tonight, okay? gotta go."

you head straight to seungcheol's desk and put down the cup of coffee on his desk, making him look up from his desktop.

"do you have a plus one for the company dinner?"

his eyes widen, and he responds after a moment's pause. "no. but-"

"will you come with me?"

"what?"

"will you be my plus one?"

"but you're going with jay?"

"who told you that?"

"you did, genius. that's all you could talk about on monday."

you cringe internally. you don't even know why you do that- talking so much about jay, thinking so much about jay, just... caring so much for him. is it a parasocial thing? like people crush on their celebrities and make imaginary daydreams about taking care of their crushes? because jay certainly hasn't recicprocated even a tenth of your affection.

or maybe it's because of the sex. it is natural for friends with benefits to end up liking each other. well, in your case, liking the other without the other liking you. perhaps it's the physical intimacy. perhaps it's the consolation that you may be pushing thirty but you're still attractive enough to be on the market. perhaps it's the attention he gives you during your hookups. and perhaps it's the lack of attention from anyon-

wait.

you don't have a lack of attention. you have friends.

so it's not the attention bit.

is it specifically male attention?

but seungcheol is male. and he gives you a lot of attention, but only as a friend. you may be the sexiest woman he's ever met but he would never hook up with you. he's way out of your league.

"i don't want to go with jay." you finally respond back, clicking your tongue.

"huh? isn't that like your dream?"

"seungcheol. don't push it."

"i'm the one pushing it? i tell you not to like him, and you're mad at me. i tell you to like him, and you're still mad at me. what am i supposed to say, y/n?" and he pouts. fucking pouts at you like a little boy who's not allowed to eat sweets, and your heart breaks into a million pieces. you know he's not even trying to fake his cuteness (like jay does sometimes) and yet there's something so adorable about him right now that makes you want to-

fuck.

"just answer me, cheol. please. yes or no?"

"when have i ever said no to you?"

your mouth twists as you nod. he hasn't. ever said no to you.

"i'll tell jay i'll be going with you then."

you turn around to walk away, but seungcheol pulls you back, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up close to his chest so that you have to tilt your head up to talk to him. "what?"

"is this some let's make jay jealous mission?"

"what?!" your eyes go wide and you scoff.

"of course NOT. what do you think i am? i'm not that desperate."

seungcheol sighs.

"whatever you say, darling."

seungcheol looks as good as ever when he comes around to pick you up and drive you to the company dinner that weekend.

"red suits you," he says, taking in the dress you've brought out from your mother's closet specially for this event. this dress is made to impress. it's the dress your mom wore at the party where she met your dad for the first time, and you've heard from dad countless times how enchanting she looked in the dress. you're hoping you'll do the dress half the justice, but clearly you haven't inherited your mother's body proportions, so it doesn't look as good as it did on her. and yet, the plunging sweetheart neckline allows you to wear pretty accessories that you hardly get to wear to work. it is really a dress to impress. somehow, something inside you wants to impress.... someone. and for some reason, you don't think it's jay.

the car ride is silent. it's extremely uncomfortable because you don't remember the last time you spent ten minutes in the same space as seungcheol without talking to him. you knew you shouldn't have raised the my friend thinks i like you shit. but you've raised it and now you can't go back. his question still lingers in your mind, and it feels like a challenge.

do you like him?

when you look at him in the moonlight, his jawline is shaved clean and his hair is slicked off his forehead. it's not like you've never realised before this how handsome seungcheol is. in fact, it was the one of the first things you'd noticed about him. he's got an aura about him that's so attractive from the outside. but as you grew closer to him, the attraction somewhat wore off into a casual comfort... where you can exist in the same space with him without double taking at his beautiful smile or wondering why his dimples are so cute.

but that's not to say that his appeal is lost on you.

under the moonlight, he looks godly.

''i heard jay's going with mina." he finally tells you when he parks into the parking lot.

"good for them." he looks at you and cocks an eyebrow, and you shrug.

you're about to open the door and step out, but he quickly grabs your hand across the car, and pulls you inside.

"umm. y/n, i don't know what you're doing. but i- whatever i said that day- look, i don't like jay because i think he's rude to you? but apart from that i'm sure he's a great guy and you should like him if you want to. and i have no right to say anything about it-"

"what?" you're so confused by his little monologue.

"sorry i'm saying this poorly. what i mean is, please don't let what i said that night make you avoid jay or anything."

"this isn't about that."

"it's not?" he tilts his head in query.

"no. this isn't about how i feel about jay."

"it's not?" he asks you again, his face more confused. you're tempted to smile at the cute confusion on his features, but you know it'll make him mad for spoiling this serious moment.

"this is about how i feel about you."

seungcheol does not utter any more words to you after that. there's still a very prominent confusion on his face, but he masks it well with his natural charm.

but you're not confused at all for once. everything seems to become clear to you with 100% HD clarity. for some reason, it all makes sense now. why your best friend thinks you're in love with seungcheol.

because you've never been in love before.

you've always fallen for the toxic type of person, like jay. relationships that are more about hookups and drunken fights than emotional bonds and care. and your past experience has made you feel that love is nothing smooth. it's always been a rocky path for you. push and pull, where you're both pushed around and pulled to meet to other's conveniences.

but being with seungcheol is so... different.

there's no loneliness. no push and pull, no compromise. only laughter and memories. he makes you smile you more than any of your love interests have made you smile. he makes you laugh ever so often. he takes care of you when you're sick. he cooks for you whenever he comes over because you can't cook to save your life. he wrote you a birthday card. he bought matching t-shirts from a thrift store because you both happened to like the design. right now, when you see the way he's talking to another colleague, his pretty lips articulating every word clearly, your heart warms with fondness. a stray hair sticks out, and you fix it back. he doesn't notice. or he pretends not to. when jay comes around within your periphery, he pulls you closer, and you can't help but smile again. something about everything he does is so endearing.

it's not a eureka moment.

and yet, it feels good to feel love for real for the first time of your life. you can die tonight happily, knowing you're capable of real love. because you know you do love seungcheol. for all his pouty tantrums and all his whining complaints, you love him the most in the world right now, and you simply cannot imagine choosing a life without him.

"do you want to dance?"

seungcheol's been deliberately avoiding eye contact, but now he looks at you like a deer caught in the headlights.

"no."

you giggle at the sudden reply. "why?" his frown deepens, and you tug at his lips with your fingers. "you don't look good when you frown." "it doesn't matter." "it does." "no one's looking at me." "no one's looking at me either." "shut up. jay's boring holes into your dress with the way he's ogling you." seungcheol's face flares up, and you're mildly amused. "and what about the boy i want to ogle?" "huh?" "you. you're so handsome, cheol." his eyes unfocus from jay and back at you, his eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

"what are you doing, y/n? why are you playing with my heart?"

"i'm not, though? i'm just telling you how i feel."

"and how's that?"

"i feel like dancing with you under the moonlight. i feel like going on a long drive with you. i feel like hugging you on the warmth of your couch until we fall asleep. i've never done these things, seungcheol, will you come with me?"

"never danced? fuck, you're not being treated right."

and he shows you. he takes you to the centre of the hall area, where the roof's glass so that it's slightly isolated from the result of the expanse, and the moonlight's shining in like a spotlight. there are only a few people dancing there, mostly couples. but seungcheol and you dance at the very centre, lost in each other's eyes, forgetting that this is a public place. it doesn't matter. nothing does. except him.

you are in love, your best friend's voice floats into your mind. and you smile as you look into seungcheol's eyes, realising she was right all along.

so you tell him.

"i love you, cheol."

seungcheol stutters in his step for a second. but it doesn't matter. your pace was anyway too slow. he pulls you closer against his chest, and cups your cheek with one hand. "what's that?"

"i told you this night's about you. and i've realised it now. i am in love."

and when seungcheol kisses you later that night, you're downright thankful you've finally realised your feelings. because how did you ever think you'd survive without his cherry kisses?

#simpxxstan #simpxxstan's 550 followers celebration event #request answered!#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #svt #svt x reader #seventeen x you #svt fluff #seungcheol imaqines #scoups fluff #svt imagines #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #scoups

161 notes · View notes

hazbinshusk · 6 months ago

Note

Hi- I don’t know if you take requests so if you don’t please just ignore this lol- but todays my birthday and I was just wondering if I could request a blitz x reader where he spends times with them or something for their birthday? Maybe they’re not having a great day so far or like their other friends forgot about their bday so he comes over and cheers them up or something?

hi, I'm so sorry I didn't get this done on the day, but I hope you had a good birthday :) and I hope you'll still enjoy a bit of birthday comfort from our boy blitzø ❤️

You start as you suddenly hear a crash come from your bedroom, jerking up from where you were laying curled up on the couch as the sound is followed by a string of curses. You grab the remote and hit pause as you stand, making your way cautiously to the bedroom door. You jump as it swings open just as you reach for the knob.

“What kind of asshole keeps their CDs under their window?” Blitzø demands as he shakes splintered plastic from the sleeve of his jacket.

“Blitzø?!” you say in surprise. “The fuck are you—I have a door!”

He shrugs, and you try not to cringe at the broken rack and the CD cases now littering your floor. You wonder just how many of them are now broken. “Window was closer.”

“And locked.”

He just winks at you by way of response. You suppose you should just be happy he didn’t break that too.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was bored,” he tells you like it’s obvious, stepping around you and heading over to the couch. You watch him throw himself back onto it, slouching against the backrest in a comfortable position. He leans forward long enough to swipe the can of soda you’d left on the coffee table, gulping down what was left of it. Blitzø claps his hands, rubbing then together. “So, what are we watching?”

“I…” you stand there for a moment, blinking as your mind catches up with what just happened. Turning around, you run a hand through your hair before gesturing to the TV. “I, uh… I was just starting The Evil Dead.”

“Hah! That movie’s hilarious!” he turns his head to look at you as you come to a stop at the side of the couch. Raising a brow, he pats the cushion beside him. “So? We watching this thing or not?”

* * *

You’re halfway through Army of Darkness before you realize you’re not really paying attention to the television anymore. Blitzø has been boisterously enjoying every gory moment of the films, commenting on whether or not its at all realistic. He got up about an hour in to raid your fridge, and when he’d returned to sit splay-legged on the couch, he’d surprised you by taking hold of you arm and tugging you against him.

“What’re you doing?”

“It’s a fuckin’ horror movie, sweets.” he replies, again like its obvious. “How am I supposed to protect you from the zombies if you’re all the fuck way over there?”

You’d curled up obediently beside him despite your shock at the sudden change, resting your head against his chest hesitantly. “If you’re scared, B, you can just say that.”

He snickers, and now he has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his tail twitching back and forth against your thigh. You can feel his chin resting against the crown of your head, his breath tickling your hair as you feel his chest rise and fall, slow and steady.

Your knees are tucked over his thigh, and Blitzø hums an exhale as you tentatively bring your hand up to slide over his stomach. You can swear it sounds like he’s smiling as your fingers curl around to rest against his hip. And after a while, barely audible over the sound of the film still playing on your TV, you can hear Blitzø start to purr.

* * *

You’re still wrapped up under his arm when you wake up hours later, the only light in the room given by the menu screen of Army of Darkness. Your hand had slipped from his waist to rest on his thigh, and you felt his hand covering yours.

He is still purring steadily, the low rumble sending a warmth into your chest. You shift slightly against him, and Blitzø lets out a soft whine as you move against him.

“Don’t…” he murmurs, and you raise your eyes to see that his are still closed, a light furrow between his brows. “Don’t move. ‘m sleepin’.”

A small smile touches your lips, and you squeeze his thigh gently. “Blitzø?”

He groans, turning his head from where it rests against the back of the couch to smoosh his cheek against your hair. “What?”

“…Why are you here?”

His eyes open, and he blinks unevenly down at you. He stiffens slightly, and you realize too late that he’s taken the wrong meaning from your question. You can already feel him sitting up, pushing you away. “You want me to go?”

“No!” you say quickly, straightening to meet his eye. “No, I don’t. I just… you broke into my house to watch a movie because you’re bored?”

He shrugs a shoulder, avoiding your eye.

“Blitzø…”

He sighs, almost irritated at being questioned. “Satan’s balls, alright already. I didn’t think you should be alone, okay? I mean, shit, you try to do a nice thing for someone’s birthday and they go and—”

“You remembered my birthday?” you interrupt, shocked.

Blitzø stops mid-rant, raising an eyebrow at you. “The fuck is that so surprising for?”

You breathe a laugh, still floored. “I really never know what to expect from you, B.”

His expression into a smile that mirrors you own, and you swear you can see color staining his scarred cheek. “Damn fuckin’ right you don’t.” he slumps back against the couch cushions again, holding out his arm to you and pointing to his chest. “So, you gonna get back over here or what?”

Your smile widens and your face warms, and Blitzø truly grins as you settle back into his arms.

“Thank you. For coming, I mean.”

Blitzø hums, and you could almost believe that you feel him press his lips against your hair. “Happy birthday, baby.”

#blitz x reader #blitzø x reader #blitz posting #blitzo x reader #blitz fic #helluva boss #blitzø #blitzo #helluva boss fanfiction #helluva boss x reader #my fic

164 notes · View notes

fungal-rot · 6 months ago

Text

Just Ask

this is short, sweet, to the point. was gonna be longer, but i’ve had massive brain fart and writers block for like the past couple weeks lol. i wasn’t gonna post this bc of it, but then i was like, ‘well at least i wrote something !!’ so anyway-

pairing: Javi G x Reader

summary: Javi loves to spoil you. He'd give you the entire world if he could. All you have to do is ask. (this is also smut practice just fyi)

warnings: smut (no plot), fingering, oral (f receiving), fluffy kinda?? f!reader, no description of reader

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

"Just ask me, hermosa." Javi would always tell you; whether it was for a date night, a specific movie to watch, or even that new brand-name pair of shoes you eyed in a shop window. He only wanted to give you what you deserved.

"Ask, and it's yours."

"J-Javi, sweetheart-" You whined out, hands clutching and pawing at his wavy, sun-bleached hair while his face was buried deep into your slick cunt.

His tongue lapped and savored the musky, salty-sweet taste of your folds, all the while the bridge of his nose bumped and rubbed up against your clit, creating that tantalizing friction you were desperately chasing.

"Ask me," Javi uttered against your skin before sliding a long, thick finger inside your heat.

Your hips bucked into his mouth, eager to reach that high you could feel stirring up in your tummy. Of course, you adored that Javi wanted to lavish you with anything you asked for, but you hated actually having to ask. Not in an 'I-shouldn’t-have-to-ask' way; more of an 'I-don't-want-you-to-think-I'm-expecting-it' way.

He was determined to break you of that.

Javi hummed lowly before pulling his mouth away, eliciting a cry of loss from you. He inserts another finger, curling the two digits up against the sponge-like flesh of your cunt with careful precision. "Tell me what you want, mí corazón," he cooed and laid his head on your thigh's soft, pillowy flesh. "Need to hear you ask for it."

He placed a sweet kiss on your hip bone while that gentle, tender puppy-like gaze bored into yours. His neatly trimmed facial hair- wet from you- lightly scratched at your skin, erupting a wave of goosebumps and leaving behind a bit of your slick on the surface.

Another whine pushed from your chest. You wanted just to tell him to fuck you already, teeth gritting with a twitch of your lip. Javi was being so sweet, though. So tender and loving as he looked up at you from your thighs, thick fingers still curling and pumping into you at a slow, steady pace.

"You- I- fuck, Javi!" You cried out a stammered mess. The hand, still fisting at his hair, tugged a little harder, eliciting a groan from him with a shut of his eyes.

"Iwannacum!" Spoken all too quickly, and words slurred together, Javi shook his head with a click of his tongue.

"That is more of a statement," He lightly chided with a chuckle and breathy noise of your name, but moved his mouth back over your swollen bud, hovering and leaving you mewling beneath him.

Your hips lift from the mattress in an attempt to chase his mouth, and with a strong arm, he keeps you pinned. Your body was glistening with a thin layer of sweat, all nerve endings sweltering with a heat that only he could extinguish. As your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, trying to find the words to correct yourself, but not quite getting there, that’s when Javi spoke once more in an almost desperate tone,

"Ask me."

Fuck, okay. You had to do this. With what little bit of resolve you had left, the words finally came falling from your tongue in hasty desire, "Javi, will yo- will you make me cum? Please, baby, I need to cum."

Pleased with your request, he smiled fondly with a faint hum of approval.

"Anything you ask for, it’s yours,” he murmured and latched his mouth back on your bundle of nerves, eagerly lapping and sucking away.

Oh, yes, Javi was going to give you any and everything you asked for.

⁺˚°｡⋆♱✮˖☽𓋼𓍊◯𓍊𓋼☾˖✮♱⋆｡°˚⁺

uh, anyway yeah- i love my pookie sunshine bear. if you liked this please reblog/like/comment !! <3 i love feedback and hearing ur thoughts

#javi gutierrez #javi g x reader #the unbearable weight of massive talent #tuwomt #pedro pascal #javi g x you #javi g smut #javi g fluff #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javier gutierrez #drabble #javi g drabble #pedro boys

89 notes · View notes

gracies-baby · 4 months ago

Note

i love ur gracie oneshots sooo much 💞💞 if i can request id love one where gracie and reader are messing around doing cute stuff and it gets a bit steamy but they get walked in on LOL i find these kinds of stories really cute n funny and id love to see you give it a go!!

Caught

(Gracie Abrams x Reader)

——————————————————————————

"Gracie! Stop! I'm trying to cook!" Y/n giggles as her girlfriend tickles her sides while she makes dinner.

"You don't need to cook. I've already decided what I'm having for dinner" Gracie smirks as she presses rough kisses against her girlfriend's neck, leaving marks.

"Oh yeah? And what would that be?" Y/n asks with a knowing grin. Gracie doesn't answer, she just keeps sucking on the shorter girl's neck before Y/n pushes her away.

"Okay, I actually do need to make dinner and I'm not having sex with you in the kitchen. Audrey lives here too, remember?" Gracie whines but goes to sit at the table a few steps away.

"It's not like we haven't done it before. Audrey doesn't even need to know. C'mon babe, give me five minutes. That's all I need"

"Really? You think you can finish me off in five minutes?" Y/n asks with a raised eyebrow.

"I know I can" Y/n smirks before agreeing. Gracie jumps over to her before getting on her knees, pulling her girlfriends pants down. She kisses her thighs for a bit before moving her hands to her underwear but before she can pull them down, the door opens.

"What the fuck?! Guys, we share this kitchen! Can't you go to your room and do this shit?!" Audrey groans, covering her eyes.

"You're home early! We didn't expect you back for another half hour" Gracie replies with a blush as Y/n pulls her pants back up.

"You don't expect me back, so you guys fuck in the kitchen? How many times have you done this?" Audrey groans, uncovering her eyes to look at the other two girls.

"I don't think you wanna know" Audrey groans before going to her room, leaving them alone in the kitchen.

"I'm never having sex with you anywhere other than our room. That was so embarrassing!" Y/n whines as she sits on the floor while Gracie tries not to laugh.

A few days later, Gracie and Y/n are at the Abrams family house for dinner. They sit on the couch, cuddling while watching a movie before Katie comes into the room.

"So, I have to make a quick trip to the store. I forgot to grab the chicken for dinner. Any of you wanna come?" She asks while holding her car keys.

"No, it's okay mom. You stay here, we'll get it" Gracie replies as she grabs Y/n's hand, pulling her up from the couch.

"Really? Thank you so much girls. Try not to take too long, it's nearly time to add the chicken" Katie replies before the girls leave the house and get into Gracie's car.

"So, since when do you like grocery shopping? Every time I ask you to come with me, you make up some dumb excuse not to" Y/n asks with a confused smile while Gracie drives.

"Well, we haven't had much alone time since Audrey caught us the other day. What better time to make out than in a car"

"Seriously? You couldn't wait until we got home? We're having dinner with your family tonight" Y/n smiles as she puts her hand on the one that Gracie has on her thigh.

"Don't you wanna spice it up a little? When was the last time we did it in the car?"

"A few weeks ago, after the Grammys after party" Y/n replies teasingly.

"Yeah, and it was amazing" Gracie replies, pulling into the carpark of the supermarket before quickly buying what they need, driving back to the house.

"Okay, are we doing this or not?" Gracie asks with a pleasing smile causing Y/n to sigh.

"Alright, come here" She grins, pulling her girlfriend in for a kiss before Gracie moves them both to the backseat, laying her girlfriend across it. Y/n moans into the kiss while Gracie quickly takes of her girlfriends shirt, leaving her in her bra. She's about to take it further when they hear a knock on the window. They both quickly sit up, accidentally bumping their heads together while Y/n scrambles to get her shirt back on.

"Dude! What the fuck!" Gracie yells at her brother as she gets out of the car.

"What did I do?! You're the one that's fucking in your car! I just came to get the chicken" Henry replies with a smirk.

"Well, next time wait until we come inside! We were busy!"

"Yeah, I saw that. I hope the chicken wasn't in the backseat or you would've ruined dinner for everyone" Gracie groans before taking her girlfriends hand, leading her inside the house.

"You guys took a while. What was the hold up?" Katie asks as she takes the chicken from her sons hands.

"Gracie couldn't keep her hands off the merchandise" Henry tells her with a smirk before sitting on the couch leaving Y/n and Gracie with bright red faces.

"You look amazing! If you keep this on until we get home, maybe you'll get a show of your own" Y/n smirks as she wraps her arms around her girlfriends neck while they stand in Gracie's dressing room, waiting for her eras tour set to begin.

"Why do we have to wait until we get home? We've got plenty of time" Gracie replies as she pulls her girlfriend closer by her waist.

"Gracie, you need to be on stage in ten minutes. We don't have time and I'm not risking getting caught again" Y/n scolds, pushing her girlfriend away before stepping back.

"Ten minutes is a lot. Besides, we've gotten caught way too many times now, there's no way it'll happen again"

"What kind of logic is that? That's not how things work. Getting caught a few times doesn't mean it won't happen again" Y/n replies, rolling her eyes with a smile.

"C'mon, don't you want to give me a good luck gift? I'm literally about to open for Taylor Swift" Gracie asks with a pleading smile. Y/n hesitates before agreeing, watching a wide smile appear on the brunette's face. Gracie quickly pulls her girlfriend in for a kiss, pushing her against the wall and slipping her tongue past her lips. Y/n moans softly before Gracie slips her hand under her pants and down her underwear. Y/n moans louder before the door is opened and a tall blonde steps inside.

"Guys, what's wrong with you?! I'm never gonna be able to get this image out of my mind now!" Taylor groans covering her eyes before leaving the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Gracie! I told you that would happen! That's it, I'm never having sex with you again. I hope you enjoy your left hand because that's all you have" Gracie whines watching her girlfriend leave the room to go to the VIP tent, leaving her to get ready for her set.

#gracie abrams #gracie abrams x reader #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift #fluff

78 notes · View notes

sungbeam · 1 year ago

Text

𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

spiderman!kim sunwoo x reader (slight eric x reader)

6.7k words, spiderman across the spiderverse au, superhero au, est. relationship au, swearing, spoilers for the atsv movie! but some details of the plot are tweaked to fit my narrative (you'll see that i basically took one of the iconic scenes and put it in writing lol), mentions of death, mild violence, low-key not a full plot..?, kissing, slight angst, BARELY PROOFREAD IT'S LATE I'M SORRY

a/n: apologies in advance for shit poor storytelling in this one 😭 i just wanted to get this idea down and out before i chickened out TT

His name was Kim Sunwoo, and you happened to know his story pretty well. After all, he was Brooklyn's one and only Spiderman.

"AHHH HOLY SHIT—"

You pulled your phone away from your ear with practiced grace as Sunwoo screeched through the speaker. The words from your textbook blurred as your focus drifted completely away from your assignment.

"BABY, I ALMOST GOT HIT BY A BUS."

"Again?" You teased, flipping the page backward to restart your reading. There was no way you were going to be able to get anything done while on call with your boyfriend, especially while he was actively swinging across New York traffic.

You heard his huff over the long blast of a car horn. "Hey! It wasn't even my fault this time; that guy definitely had headphones in, which is totally illegal."

Snickering, you leaned back in your desk chair and peered out the window of your apartment's bedroom at the city beyond. He would probably be here any minute now. "You should go arrest him then. Aren't you Mister Superhero now?"

"Mister Multiversal Superhero," he corrected with a tone that definitely sounded like he had the biggest grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes good naturedly. "Uh-huh. So is Mister Multiversal Superhero almost here or do I have to find another superhero to come rescue me?"

Just as you said this, your eyes spotted a blur of black and red swinging himself around the apartment building at the end of your block. He was steadily making his way to you, as you knew he had been.

"Woah, wait, have you been seeing other superheroes?"

You rested your cheek against your fist as you watched him get closer and closer. "Well, now that we know that there are multiple universes out there, who knows?"

Spiderman landed quietly on the metal railing of your fire escape, hands braced between his legs in the iconic pose. His suit was black and tight to his skin, leaving close to nothing to the imagination and allowing for easy movement. The ensemble was completed by a red spider symbol drawn over his chest, and a black hoodie thrown over the uniform.

Sunwoo gazed at you from behind the white lenses of his mask on the other side of your window. His heart never failed to literally fly out of his body when he saw you look at him like that. "Ma'am, I'm going to need you to open this window up," he coughed in his forced deep voice, even though he knew that you knew exactly who he was. It was all for fun and to see you smile anyway.

You put your mouth near the speaker of your phone. "It's open, tiger."

Oh, dear heavens…

He could have fainted off the fire escape then, backflipped through the air, and landed kur-splat on the Brooklyn sidewalk while still maintaining the hearts in his eyes. He ended the call feeding through his mask's wireless control, before going through the familiar motions of wiggling the locking mechanism, hauling the window up, and slipping inside your bedroom. He was hit with the smell of your soap and your laundry detergent, and took in a lungful of it. This was what home smelled like. It was simple, yet quaint and soft and nothing like the busy, dangerous world outside.

You stood from your desk chair and walked into his embrace as he shot his web shooters at the window shutter strings and yanked your shutters down and closed. "Show off," you mused, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and using the other to gently pull the mask up and off his lower face.

"Only for you." His pouty lips smiled, and his arms came around your form. "Hi baby."

"Hi tiger." You grazed your thumb over his lips. "Everything okay today?"

"Mhm," he hummed, rubbing his lips together. "You're not gonna take the rest of the mask off?" He chuckled.

"I kind of like you like this."

"I knew it; is this what you use me for? You only love me for my—mmmh!" You shut him up as you yanked him over to you and drew his mouth to yours in a proper greeting kiss. He melted into you with a soft moan, hands cradling you at your waist and lower back as your fronts melded together.

When you both pulled back, Sunwoo took the opportunity to tear his mask off and shove the garment into the pocket of his jacket. The two of you shared a grin.

"So, I hear you're in need of rescu—"

BONK!

You and Sunwoo froze at the sound of the metal railing outside your window rattling, followed by a swear and a familiar-sounding voice hissing, "Ow!"

Sunwoo's smile slipped into an annoyed frown as he yanked the shutter string to send the shutter flying upward. The motion revealed a young man perched where Sunwoo had been just a couple of minutes ago, except in less of the classic Spiderman pose, and more of a one-foot-balance-act situation. The newcomer wore a costume in dark red and black, but a larger percentage of red than Sunwoo's red spider. He rubbed his forehead furiously from where Sunwoo guessed he had hit his head on the fire escape for the apartment above yours.

The thought made him break his irritated expression and laugh. "Changmin hyung, do you just suck at aiming or something?"

The scarlet spider's white eyes narrowed slightly, and he simply held the place where his head hurt. "Hey, you try swinging around in an alternate New York City! Your universe is similar enough to mine, but I feel like everything's been moved, like, an inch to the left. Absolutely ridiculous."

You smiled in amusement, too, taking a step back to settle down in your desk chair again while Sunwoo leaned against the wall next to the window and poked his head out. "Welcome to Earth 412, I guess," you chuckled.

The alternate Spider man made a little waving motion with his hand. "Yeah, thanks, Yn. You know, it's so weird being back here."

"Why are you back?" Sunwoo asked. "As much as I enjoy you cockblocking me—" He hissed as you delivered a swift kick to his shin, "—yah! Okay, okay, I'm sorry!—Sangyeon hyung only said to use the watches when called for." He gestured to the sleek, black watch wrapped around his left wrist. It was a way to communicate between universes, as well as perform a variety of different tasks, one of them being traveling from universe to universe, as well.

Changmin, the spider of Earth 115, sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Well, I actually came to warn you."

Sunwoo tensed. "Huh?"

"Sangyeon's going to call you in soon."

"Oh, okay. I don't exactly see why you would need to warn me about that."

Changmin shook his head. "No, you don't—I can't… really tell you. Not here." His eyes flickered over to you, who sat listening intently. You and Sunwoo exchanged glances, and then Sunwoo looked back to his friend.

"Don't be held up on my account," you piped up in an attempt to lighten the mood. You stood and planted a kiss on Sunwoo's cheek. "Go do what you boys need to do."

Sunwoo smiled at you, grabbing your hand to give it a squeeze, before donning his mask once more. "I'll be back for dinner," he called back to you as he slipped out onto the fire escape with Changmin.

Your laugh rang in his ears as he swung away. "I'll hold you to it!"

Sunwoo grabbed onto the fire escape above yours to give him a swinging start, fingers triggering the firing mechanism of his web shooters as he defied gravity. With a WAHOO!, he slipped through the New York City skies, Changmin following closely after him. There was a place Sunwoo had in mind where the two of them could speak in private, without worry of anyone else eavesdropping or seeing them.

Behind the massive billboard face of Nike's most recent Air Jordans release, the two spider people landed near silent onto the cement rooftop. Sunwoo hopped up onto the railing behind the billboard, holding his arms as he walked across the beam with no problems. Changmin climbed up next to him, leaning against the end pole.

"So what's this all about?" Sunwoo asked above the cacophony of New York below.

Changmin crossed his arms. "You know when we recruited you?"

He stopped, turning to face his friend. "Yeah, what about it?" Sunwoo had been recruited to Sangyeon's team of multiversal spider people several months ago, when a particle collider in his universe threatened to dismantle the entirety of space and time as you knew it. When Sunwoo had stopped the collider from being restarted the first time, the resulting test had brought a handful of multiversal spiders crashing into Earth 412. It had been a mind blowing experience to learn about the multiverse, and that, for once, he wasn't actually alone.

He finally met people who understood him. He didn't have to carry the weight of this all by himself.

"We didn't tell you everything." There was a tension in his friend's shoulders and posture as he said this.

Sunwoo eyed him with trepidation and let out a nervous laugh. "What—what does that even mean?"

A tingling sensation erupted in Sunwoo's head, and both he and Changmin's focus whipped over toward the rooftop below where a large orange portal appeared. It felt as if it had torn a hole through the air, shoving its vacuum-like opening through the world. Sunwoo's heart leapt into his throat; it looked like he was about to find out from the man himself.

He briefly heard Changmin's curse disappear in the wind, and the two spiders leapt off the beams to meet the others coming through the portal to greet them.

Through the portal came one other, a Spiderman dressed in dark crimson and gold, a gold colored slab of lightweight metal attached to his back where four robotic metal legs would emerge when summoned. His helmet retracted, folding inwards on itself like that of a gradient—nano technology, as the wearer, Chanhee of Earth 426, had explained to Sunwoo when they first met.

"Did you tell him?" Chanhee asked Changmin.

The scarlet spider gave a brief shake of his head. "Nope," he said. Sunwoo could hear the disappointment in his tone.

"Told you coming earlier would've been better," Chanhee replied, inclining his head as he turned back to step into the portal, a silent beckon for them to follow.

Sunwoo exchanged glances with Changmin. "It's nice to see you too, hyung," Sunwoo teased.

Chanhee sent a look back to Sunwoo just before he stepped fully into the vortex portal. "You won't be saying that pretty soon."

He didn't have time to question any of this interaction, absolutely none. His brain ran wild with possibilities as he followed Changmin and Chanhee back to Earth 114. There was a sinking feeling in his gut… something he didn't even need his spider sense to tell him. Maybe he should have told you he wouldn't make it back for dinner after all.

The New York of Earth 114 was home to the headquarters of the multiversal spiders called the Spider Society. It didn't matter how many times Sunwoo saw it with his own eyes, he could never take the awe out of his mouth. His lips parted in wonder as he passed by criss crossing pathways slicing to his left, right, and above and below him. Spider-beings passed by him in masses, all ranging in different varieties from their own diverse universes.

His friends walked ahead of him whilst making quiet conversation with one another, though it seemed like a hushed argument. That was why he refrained from butting in; something made him stay out of it. He didn't know why he feared what came ahead. For once, it wasn't his head saying it; it was his gut.

The scarlet and iron spider were leading him deeper into headquarters to where the shadows ran darker and the machinery ran faster. They passed by Chanhee's usual workstation where he manned the Go Home Machine, the device that scanned a being's target DNA and sent them back from where they came. Usually it was meant for Anomalies, beings that managed to crawl through the cracks between universes and ended up in one that would not be able to sustain them. Usually.

Instead of Chanhee manning the helm, however, there were a couple other spiders Sunwoo didn't recognize trying to labor over it and watch the machine do its thing. Maybe they were his protégés?

"Hey! You guys aren't teenagers; keep an eye on it, would you?" Chanhee barked at the spiders there, who immediately jolted into action.

Chanhee shook his head with an aggravated sigh. "This is what happens when people can't do what they're supposed to." He sent Changmin a pointed look, to which the latter pointedly ignored.

Sunwoo raised a hand in greeting as a few of his other friends passed by. "Hey guys!"

"Sup man," Kevin, Earth 223's resident Spider, exclaimed back in a wave. He, Juyeon, and Haknyeon all seemed to be headed out somewhere together, most likely on an assignment of their own. There were a couple others who Sunwoo had yet to see just yet, but he had a feeling that was about to be remedied.

They passed all the way into the inner lair, a large tunnel space that opened up into a taller tower-like area, housing a floating platform that acted as an office space of sorts. Navy blue light shone through the skylight at the very top of the tower, washing all of the specimens below it in that cool toned filter.

"—just a kid, Sangyeon."

"I've already made up my mind. Don't fight me on this, Jacob. He's already here."

Sunwoo swallowed at the sound of the distinct voices; he had a sneaking suspicion that the he Sangyeon and Jacob were referring to was him. He fidgeted with the watch on his wrist, trying desperately to calm his palpitating heart.

Changmin and Chanhee led him to the edge of the dark tunnel to peer up into the blue tower office. "We brought him," Chanhee said, his voice echoing against the tower walls.

The raised platform began to slowly make its descent, and Sunwoo gradually saw the spiders located onboard. There was Jacob of Earth 530 with his black uniform and pale yellow accents; and then there was Sangyeon of Earth 114, this Earth, with his broad shoulders fitted in a blue and red costume, a spider on the back that looked closer to fangs rather than the insect itself. Sangyeon was different from most of the spiders here—he was self-made, in the way that he had to continually inject himself with this red shit that made Sunwoo squirm in order to retain his powers… at least, that was what Changmin told him.

When the platform had lowered enough to fully view Sangyeon and Jacob but not enough for it to reach the ground, the two executives turned to face their guests.

"Hi hyungs," Sunwoo greeted, attempting to force the nerves out of his voice.

Jacob shot him a sunshine-like smile. "Hello Sunwoo. Nice to see you." He jabbed Sangyeon in the side with his elbow, urging the eldest to make his greeting.

Sangyeon's stony expression did not change. "Do you know why you're here?"

Jacob made an exasperated face, but said nothing else.

Sunwoo swallowed. "No sir. I'm guessing it's not for tteokbokki."

From beside him, he heard Chanhee snort and had to turn his head away to laugh.

Sangyeon merely lifted an unamused brow. He silently walked off the platform and landed on the ground floor with ease. Jacob followed swiftly after him. "When we first recruited you—and I use that term loosely—" He narrowed his eyes at Changmin in nod to his unconventionally forceful method of getting Sunwoo onto the team, "—we failed to mention something to you."

"I've pieced that much together," Sunwoo said, hand reaching up to cup the back of his head.

"Do you know what we're all connected by?" The blue and red spider asked. "Not simply by the names or insect we represent, but the destinies, the canon events written into our very DNA."

Sunwoo cracked his knuckles, heart kick-starting in his chest again like it was chugging up the incline of a rollercoaster. "What… what do you mean by canon?"

"A canon event is something like a pattern. It's a solidified event in your life, Sunwoo—in all of our lives." Sangyeon activated something with his watch, and the room was engulfed in a living hologram of orange. Lines zigzagged amongst each other like the connected dots, and Sangyeon expanded them with a flourish, revealing a familiar lineup of spider people to whom Sunwoo was acquainted with.

The lights of the hologram cut across the shadows of Sangyeon's face like a nightmare. "We're all made who we are by these canon events. Each spider being from each verse is shackled to the death of a mentor figure—"

Scenes of uncles and fathers being murdered flashed before Sunwoo's widened eyes, his body going slack at seeing his own uncle's dying breath leave his body. He couldn't even figure out what to say or think; his tongue had gone heavy in his mouth, words stringing together as slow and thick as wet sand. He couldn't breathe, all of a sudden. His uncle's eyes lost the light in them, they dimmed and dimmed and dimmed—hadn't it been all his fault? Couldn't he have been there to stop the robber?

"—and the death of one Captain or his… child."

More hunched over figures, one after the other, blood, tears, death—why was this being shown to him? Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. Wait—did he just say Captain or his child?

"What," blew out of Sunwoo's mouth, breathlessly. "Wait, are you saying that—that Yn, my Yn, or her father is supposed to die?"

Sangyeon didn't answer immediately, but instead said gravely, "Canon events must happen, Sunwoo, or the fate of that world would be at stake. It would implode in on itself and destroy millions of innocent lives."

Sunwoo felt his heart rate spike, head whipping around to Jacob, to Changmin, to Chanhee. He imagined his eyes looked wild. "You're telling me she's going to die? Or her father—and, and what? What's the point of telling me all this?"

He couldn't let you die. He couldn't bear that devastation—not without at least trying to save you or your dad.

"When?" He huffed, fingers diving into his hair, mask fisted in one of his hands. "When is this happening?" He demanded.

A beat. "Three days."

Everything went quiet… and then the sound came rushing back in like a tidal wave crashing toward the shoreline.

"I have to save them—"

Jacob's voice cut in. "Sangyeon," like a warning.

But Sangyeon shook his head. "Oh no you don't."

Blood thundered in Sunwoo's ears as he yanked his mask back over his head and made a dash for the exit, only to have an orange, crystalline cage trap him in his place. Panic clambered into the dregs of his throat, suffocating suffocating suffocating…

"Sangyeon!"

"Sangyeon, don't do this!"

"He's just a fucking kid—!"

The world was spinning, and Sunwoo grunted as he punched and assaulted the cage walls, his friends pressing up against the outside and attempting to break through, too. "LET ME OUT!"

There were deep shadows beneath Sangyeon's eyes and he watched on with little to no sympathy. "It's for the good of the multiverse, Sunwoo. You'll understand someday."

Sunwoo bared his teeth. "You can't fucking expect me to not fight you on this."

"It will only be for a few days."

"Fuck you!" The amounting rage in Sunwoo's veins accumulated in a mass of electricity, and he forced that energy out at the force fields trapping him in. He screwed his eyes shut, arms swinging over his face, as he protected himself from the blast. When the cage shattered and blew his colleagues backward, Sunwoo wasted no time in sprinting down the hall.

An enraged roar followed after him—a web shooting past Sunwoo's face—not to grab Sunwoo, but instead to rip the watch right off his wrist.

He swore under his breath as he tripped over a piece of metal, cursing even more as he racked his brain for a way to get back to his earth.

"Bring me Kim Sunwoo," Sangyeon's voice boomed throughout the Spider Society's headquarters, accompanied by whirring red apocalypse lights, "don't let the Anomaly go home."

Anomaly—?

But Sunwoo had little time to dwell on that choice label as he slid through a closing doorway, nearly missing another spider's web flinging at his face.

"Okay, Sunwoo," he said aloud to himself as he emerged into the main quad area. It was bright out here, and hundreds of spider beings milled about like they were all at one massive Spider convention.

"He is an Anomaly, and considered armed and dangerous."

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" Sunwoo cried in distress, aiming his web shooter for one of the high rafters as everyone in the room set their eyes on him.

Dodging skilled versions of himself was not the easiest task, and he weaved through the masses like something akin to a thread through the eye of a needle.

He dared not look back as he crashed through one of the windows of the society headquarters and went soaring down into Earth 114's main city. The city itself was a funnel dive, forcing Sunwoo to zip his limbs to his side and thread the needle through multiple layers of hover transportation and floating roads. Cars were turned up on their sides and he nearly hit his head on a dozen traffic lights.

"Get him!"

"This guy is everywhere!" Sunwoo groaned as he leapt from hood to hood, eyes scanning for a place to duck into and hide. The tingling sensation in his brain was ever-present, and kept him well informed of the encroaching Lee Sangyeon.

"AHHH FUCK!" He screeched, forcefully diving off the side of the road. A long, screeching honk echoed after him. "It's always the buses!"

The level below became a labyrinth of metal rafters and pipes. Steam blew out from unseen origins, but provided the perfect cover for Sunwoo to slip through and catch his breath. He pressed his back up against one of the cool, metal bars, his fingers pressing against his eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay.

His heart was five palpitations from clearing his ribcage at this point. He needed a plan—he had to have a—

"What the—" Web slapped against his back and yanked him into an abandoned alcove, "—shit!"

Sunwoo groaned as he crashed to the hard ground, furiously rubbing his tailbone after the impact. He glanced up and met Changmin's eyes, who kneeled down beside him.

"Before you go all rage on me," Changmin said and held up his palms in surrender, "just hear me out, okay?"

Sunwoo's chest rose and fell rapidly. He narrowed his eyes on his friend whose face was hidden behind his own mask. "Yeah, okay… fine," he huffed, "but only… only because—" he staggered, climbing to his feet, "I need to catch my breath."

Changmin cocked his head as if he didn't believe that. "Ohh-kay whatever you say." But even as he said this, he still kept his hands out as if placating a hungry lion. "Sunwoo, I know it's a lot to take in—"

"Yeah, no shit," he spat. Fear spiked in his chest, so hard that it was experiencing a heart attack each time. His uncle's death replayed in his head over and over—but now your eyes, draining of life, joined that visual. It was enough to make dread weigh in the pit of his stomach, an anchor that dragged him down. And yet, the adrenaline was still there, the instinct to do something about it.

His friend suddenly tugged his mask off, revealing his face and mess of curls glistening in sweat and worry. "Hey man, I know it's scary and I know that it is unfair—"

"Hyung, he wants me to let them die!"

"It's to save lives, Sunwoo!"

"So you would let your own significant other die? Even if you have the foresight to save them?" Sunwoo scoffed in disbelief. "You would leave their life or their father's life to whatever bullshit—a canon event—dictated?"

Changmin's brows furrowed and he swallowed. "It is not that simple."

"It sounds pretty damn crystal clear to me."

His friend inched toward him. "We're all mad about it, Sunwoo—devastated, destroyed, even. It's not something easy to digest—and, and I admit that I haven't even fully digested it myself. It's not something I've really… I've really thought about."

Sunwoo stared into Changmin's eyes as if he could peer right into his soul. There was pain in Changmin's voice, a sort of tension that he could identify with. A tension that was human. Sunwoo's hands shook. "Changmin—" he exhaled, "—Changmin, I'm scared."

There was that sheen of compassion in Changmin's eyes as he planted his hands on either of Sunwoo's shoulders. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay. I got you."

And for a second, Sunwoo believed that.

Beep beep beep… Both heads whipped toward the watch on Changmin's wrist. "Target acquired. Changmin, we are heading toward you now." Sangyeon.

Betrayal ripped through Sunwoo, a strike of lightning, and he tore away from Changmin, stumbling and knees shaking. The latter gaped at him, then the watch on his wrist, mouth open like a gaping fish. "I—I swear to god, I didn't know it could do that—!"

It was no use. Sunwoo didn't have the time to entertain what ifs—he launched himself out of the alcove just as the walls crashed inward with the arrival of backup.

Think, Sunwoo, think!

Sunwoo furiously stumbled, clambered, whipped himself up and through vehicles screaming toward him and at him. His ears rang with the echoes of their horns, along with the distant (but encroaching) sound of Sangyeon's voice.

Why was keeping Sunwoo at bay so important? There was no way that stopping two people from being murdered would cause a rift in the space-time continuum. He couldn't be that important in the grand scheme of things—?

A hand grappled his ankle and Sunwoo yelped.

"Kid, you're making a mistake!" Sangyeon yelled above the cacophony of traffic raging all around them.

Sunwoo, heart beat tittering on the brink of collapse from the jumpscare, held firm to the hood of the SUV headed up and out of the main city. He peered under him, where Sangyeon stood just below, his hand stopping Sunwoo from going any further.

"You have nowhere to run, you know."

Sunwoo knew. God, he knew. "How could you step aside and let them die?" He exclaimed with his whole chest. He couldn't bear the thought.

A muscle feathered in Sangyeon's jaw. "You would choose the life of one person over millions? You're too young to understand, Sunwoo."

Youth, that was always the fucking argument, huh? Sunwoo's lip curled in disdain. "Just because you couldn't save whoever in your past doesn't mean that I—can't!" With the last word, he stomped Sangyeon's hand away with his other foot and flung himself further up to the next vehicle.

He heard the growl of rage behind him as he scrambled to swing himself up to the next thing. He slammed his fingers against his web shooter, spitting web fluid against the wind berating him at anything, literally anything it could catch.

When it caught onto something, he went flying with it—soaring up toward the sun on the high-speed train.

A flurry of spiders followed swiftly after him as Sunwoo continued his climb. Heart pounding, he gasped for air at this altitude, head twisting backward to catch a glimpse of how he had done so far.

You have nowhere to run, you know.

Well, Sunwoo didn't have to run anywhere. He just had to get far enough.

Sangyeon was the closest on his tail, his teeth bared, and for the first time, Sunwoo could see the threatening gleam of his razor-sharp canines. He made one massive leap up to where Sunwoo was, yanking down on his legs, clawing at his back. Sunwoo kicked his legs out in an attempt to fling him off—shot web fluid in Sangyeon's eyes, but it only seemed to irritate him even further.

Sunwoo cursed as he rolled out of the way of an incoming punch, cursing again when Sangyeon fisted the material of hoodie and pulled him into his grasp, predator meeting prey.

Sangyeon grasped him by the back of the head and slammed his face into the metal— "Maybe I should just get rid of you," he growled into Sunwoo's ear as the latter tried desperately to swing out of this hold, "you weren't even supposed to exist anyway."

Something foreign tugged at Sunwoo's chest. "Man, you gotta stop talking in riddles—!"

He pressed his side against the train car and horse-kicked Sangyeon's lower waist as hard as he possibly could. As if it happened in slow motion, he watched Sangyeon lose his grip and fumble to stay on board the train, but it was enough.

Sunwoo dove straight off the metro and headed straight for the now abandoned headquarters, hands jamming into the pockets of his hoodie and catching the wind to slow his fall. Wind roared through his ears, muffling the sound of Sangyeon's pure irritation as the older spider no doubt dove after him. Sunwoo's eyes zeroed in on his desired landing place, cradling his head with his arms to soften the impact.

The window shattered on impact—he tucked, rolled, and ran.

This time, he willed himself to turn invisible to the eye, even heightened spider eyes. His brain scrambled as he made a mad dash for the Go Home machine. It was somewhere around here—which damn hallway was it in—?!

"Where did he go?" Sunwoo heard from down one open corridor, which made him crawl up onto the ceiling and remain there until he got to his desired location. It hadn't been Sangyeon, but all of his friends had been chasing after him just the same.

He couldn't trust anyone.

Steeling his resolve, Sunwoo leapt off the ceiling and played around with the controls, dancing around the control panel and trying desperately not to panic. He couldn't have possibly run for an infinite amount of time; he only needed to buy himself time to use the one other option he had to get back home.

"Fuck fuck fuck," he muttered to himself when the monitor began playing a very loud song out of the speakers. But it was too late, even as his hand slammed down on the button to mute it.

"SOMEBODY'S PLAYING MY BALLROOM EXTRAVAGANZA." Yep, definitely a Chanhee playlist.

Sunwoo felt the sweat trickle down his spine—but then he swiped his way through controls and somehow managed to hit gold.

"Sequence initializing," announced the machine, and Sunwoo could have screamed with delight and relief.

That was, if he wasn't currently being hunted.

Still shrouded in his invisibility, Sunwoo swung himself onto the steel platform poised at the center of the massive chamber past the control board. A metal arm emerged from the side of the board, an amber orange light scanning over his form.

Chanhee and Changmin barreled into the room, going straight for the control board having yet seen Sunwoo on the platform.

"What's happening?" Changmin cried out as he gripped the edge of the railing, his eyes whipping between the platform and the computer.

Chanhee's two arms and mechanical spider limbs worked furiously to override the sequence. "I don't know!" He grunted. "It's not listening to me!"

"DNA match found. Go Home sequence, commencing."

Sunwoo's physical appearance materialized on the platform just as the machine arm began crafting a crystalline-like webbing around him from the ground up. When both Changmin and Chanhee saw him there, Sunwoo's arm raised, fingers poised over his web shooter trigger.

"Don't stop me," he said, forcing power into his voice. He was trying hard to not let his knees shake right now.

His friends gaped up at him. "Sunwoo, you can't—"

"WHAT'RE YOU DOING? STOP HIM!" And just like that, Sangyeon and company rushed into the chamber like a stampede of buffalo, the former of which going straight for the platform Sunwoo was on.

55% completion.

The crystal had just finished encasing Sunwoo in its cocoon, and Sunwoo yelled as Sangyeon slammed against the outside.

He flinched back. "Just let me go home! I want to go home!" He cried out, hugging his hands to his chest.

Sangyeon beat at the outside with his fist, at first, doing nothing to the crystal—but when it began to crack, Sunwoo's heart dropped clean into the pit of his stomach. "You know why you can't," the man grunted, rearing his fist back to land another solid CRACK to the cocoon, "I have to save the multiverse, and you're in my goddamn way."

75% completion.

"Just leave me alone!" Sunwoo shot back, then backed up against the opposite side of the capsule as Sangyeon's arm cracked through.

90% completion.

He cursed, feet scrambling against the platform as he tried to stay out of Sangyeon's reach.

"You're gonna regret—"

Sunwoo didn't catch the end of Sangyeon's sentence, though he could probably guess what it was. He felt the familiar, yet somehow alien, suction of the vacuum portal. One second, Sangyeon was breaking his fist against the crystal cocoon, and the next, Sunwoo was gone.

Sunwoo emerged in New York to a glorious late afternoon and fell straight out of that saturated, blue sky. He swore colorfully as he just managed to shoot his webs up at the nearest building and swing himself to safety. He landed on the edge of a rooftop, but he couldn't find the Air Jordan billboard he'd been at earlier.

But he noted Time Square just a few blocks down from him, and a few buildings he recognized from central New York City.

"Get to Yn," he muttered to himself, breath heaving as his heart palpitated in his chest. He determined the direction he had to go in, then began making the trek across the city.

His first priority was to find you, to warn you. He didn't know what or how the canon event would play out, but he desperately needed to make sure you and your dad were okay. You had to be okay—

Tears stung at the corners of his eyes as he narrowly missed another screaming bus, turning the corner to your apartment. The sun was sinking into the horizon now, casting an eerie, blood orange tint across the skyline.

He could barely get his thoughts in order: you, your dad, dead, alone, alone, alone.

As he neared your apartment, he could recognize your silhouette in the window as you hunched over your desk, no doubt studying hard as usual. A smile crept onto his face, a giddiness only you caused, sending a jolt of energy down his spine. He was relieved to be in your arms again soon, maybe even in time for dinner—

Wait.

He paused, web latching onto the fire escape above yours like usual, you never had sheer curtains. They were always shutters—

An internal alarm in his head screamed.

A blur of red and blue crashed into Sunwoo's body, sensing him and the body that tackled him, straight to the alley below. For a split second, he panicked at the thought of Sangyeon already finding him so soon, but it didn't take long for him to realize that… this wasn't Sangyeon.

He and his blue and red assailant wrestled on the floor of the alley, throwing punches that missed, ripping webbing from their eyes—Sunwoo swore as the other guy kneed him in the stomach and pinned his wrists and knees down.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Sunwoo's eyes widened as he came face to face with himself, but red and blue in all the weird places. There were silverish lines criss crossing across his suit mimicking the lines of a spider's web. This guy didn't sound like him though… He glared. "Who are you?"

With a surge of courage, he whipped his forehead upward and straight into his opponent's, sending him cursing and scrambling away.

Sunwoo wasn't in much better shape either, but though his forehead throbbed, he forced himself to his feet.

He and this… alternate Spiderman stood across from each other, walking in a tantalizingly slow circle, assessing the other. It felt awfully familiar, this experience; maybe he'd seen it in a meme somewhere.

"I'm Spiderman," Red and Blue drawled out slowly, carefully. His head cocked to the side. "Who are you?"

Sunwoo froze. "I'm Spiderman."

Red and Blue Spiderman stopped short. The white eyes of his mask narrowed. "Who sent you? Osborne? Doc Ock?"

Sunwoo made a face. "Who?" What was a Doc Ock...

"And what the hell do you want with Y—I-I mean, that… uh, that random girl in the apartment?" Red and Blue scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he stammered out a cover-up.

"Nice one," Sunwoo deadpanned. Then, as the information marinated in his head and the cogs in his brain began to turn, a realization dawned on him… and it filled him with pure terror.

Red and Blue must have sensed Sunwoo's dread. "What? Got nothing to say now? How about I—"

"What Earth is this?" Sunwoo blurted, head swiveling to and fro to find some kind of indication that he hadn't just royally screwed up. He shot a web up to the top of the nearest apartment building and swung himself up.

Red and Blue blinked. "Huh?" He swiftly followed after him. "Dude, dunno what rock you crawled out from under, but there's only one Earth in this solar system. You learn that shit in first grade." When he landed on the rooftop, he trailed after Sunwoo, who was busy soaking the skyline around him with a new pair of eyes.

Everything looked relatively the same.

It all smelled the same.

"—as always, this is your daily reminder to keep your eyes peeled for the Spider Menace!—" Sunwoo tracked that awfully annoying voice broadcasting from an electronic billboard more than a few blocks to the west. Featured on the screen was an older man with salt and pepper hair, and a mustache shaped like a broom. His face looked like one of those that were trapped in a perpetual state of irritation.

He made a face. "Who the fuck…"

Red and Blue made a guttural sound of disgust. "J. Jonah Jameson. My absolute best bud."

Sunwoo's head turned toward him. "People don't like you here?"

A snort. "I wish. Tough crowd, I guess."

Sunwoo pursed his lips into a small frown, but nodded. He could relate to that. The authorities and public had mixed views of him, especially at the start of his career. Even if he aimed to save people every time, he couldn't exactly pay for all of the damages done to buildings and structures and… well, people.

"You're not from here, are you?" Red and Blue said after a moment.

The dread, the panic, the fear, was beginning to creep into his nerves again. Sunwoo cracked his knuckles, trying to wrack his brain for next moves. Anything, anything. "Yeah," was all he could voice. Reality was a quicksand he was sinking into, deeper and deeper.

"I'm guessing that doesn't mean you're from LA, does it?"

Sunwoo laughed, but it was a sad sound. "I wish. No, it's more like… a different universe."

"So... you have your own Yn in that universe?"

Sunwoo swallowed. "Yeah."

His colleague gave a small nod, unable to find anything to say to soothe Sunwoo's nerves. There was so much trembling in his voice, his fingers, his knees…

From out of his periphery, Sunwoo spotted a hand extended out to him. "Well, since it seems we're both spider people—I'm Eric."

Sunwoo glanced from the hand offered and the red and blue mask, eyes locked on him expectantly. He clasped Eric's hand. "Sunwoo."

With a firm shake, Eric said, "Well Sunwoo, how about we find a way to get you home, huh?"

He hadn't even realized tears had dampened the fabric of his mask until he sniffled. Sunwoo released a shaky breath, eyes wandering back to the skyline that had looked so close to his, but was now a complete foreign entity. He had less than three days to get back home to you with seemingly no way back at all.

a/n: honestly unsure of a sequel lol but it would be cool to explore eric's spidey universe

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @soobin-chois @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @mingiholic @ja4hyvn @vatterie @yogurteume @ethereal-engene @hyunjaespresent-deobi @justalildumpling @hongyangi @pxppxrmint @nerdypastacalzonespy @miusgirl @zhaixiaowen @wtfhyuck @winterchimez @sodafy @fluorescentloves @tinkerbell460 @kflixnet @gyulfriend

#kflixnet #deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #kim sunwoo x reader #sunwoo x reader #the boyz oneshots #the boyz drabble #the boyz scenario #the boyz imagines #kim sunwoo oneshots #kim sunwoo drabbles #kim sunwoo scenarios #kim sunwoo imagines #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo drabbles #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo oneshots #the boyz fanfic #the boyz marvel au

415 notes · View notes

incomingalbatross · 28 days ago

Note

Sooo... I just watched Labyrinth, and I remember seeing some posts of yours talking about how it's good and similar to other stories (like OTGW). And in some ways, I see that? But also like.... I need a little help making any sense of it, lol

Sorry, I know this is super random, but I was just curious to find out why you like it and what you see in it, so I thought I'd ask!

Of course, I'm happy to talk about Labyrinth! :) Thank you for the ask!

(Disclaimer that I haven't watched it in a year or two, but I still remember it fairly well.)

In terms of similarity to OTGW: both stories center on a teenage protagonist who is a dreamer, but too caught up in themselves, and to some extent running away from their life. This manifests PARTICULARLY in their neglected and/or rejected responsibility to their younger half-brother. They end up in a liminal, otherworldly space that operates on much more narrative logic than they're used to, and can only save their lives/souls and make it home again by saving said younger brothers first.

Sarah rejects her brother at the beginning of her story, while Wirt abandons his care for Greg near the end, but you can see the similar beats there, right? They're both dealing with normal teenage stress + the stress of parental divorce (probably) and remarriage, and seeing their younger brothers as an emblem of Everything Wrong In Their Lives. In reality, their younger brothers are forcing them to live in reality, where they have duties and connections to other people, and can only find maturity/fulfillment through embracing that.

Jareth and the Beast are also very similar figures, I think; Jareth is a more seductive tempter figure, playing to Sarah's ego and to romance tropes, while the Beast plays with hope and despair. But they are both trickster figures who use bargains -- seeming windows of hope -- to entrap vulnerable mortals (Wirt and Greg, in the Beast's case).

AND. Both Jareth and the Beast are defeated by someone calling them out as empty and powerless! Wirt says, "this is dumb," and demolishes the Beast's entire facade -- he's not keeping souls in the lantern, he's the one dependent on the lantern, and he can't keep Wirt or Greg if they're ready to go home. Sarah's "You have no power over me" has the exact same weight -- it's wrapped up in theatrics of these being Specific Magic Words, but it's the meaning of them that shatters Jareth's power and sends her and Toby home.

In both stories, evil tries very, very hard to convince these kids that they need it. Jareth wraps it up in a lot more complicated temptations -- I'll make you happy, I'll make you powerful, I'll give you glamorous parties and material comfort and everything you ever wanted if you fall down and worship me -- while the Beast sticks to a brute-force message of despair, with the crumbs he offers as all that there is -- "There is only my way." But in both cases, the message is: you need me.

And in both stories the protagonists go: No. I don't need you. I don't need anything from you. In fact, you have nothing to give.

At which point it's revealed that evil needed them. Needed them to buy into its strength, its ability, its substance -- or it doesn't have any. It crumbles away, and they go home.

...So! Those are the big similarities between them, I think, for me? I like Labyrinth, as its own movie, because I like the classic fairy-tale structure of "the fairies/goblins/elves took my loved one because I messed up, and now I gotta get them back the hard way." I love the atmosphere of the Labyrinth and Sarah's friends (though your mileage may definitely vary on this movie, depending on your tolerance for Henson Creations ;P). I love Sarah, who messes up, but who is still plucky and brave and kind through most of her trials! The friendship between her and Hoggle (...a Woodsman parallel?) is my favorite. And while I'm very much in the minority of this fandom in not really feeling Jareth's appeal, as a villain I think David Bowie does an excellent, glittery job. And we get music.

#labyrinth is definitely drawing from european folktale vibes to me where otgw leans heavily on americana #and otgw has a lot more allegorical-without-just-being-allegory kinds of theming going on if that makes sense #labyrinth cares a lot less about what it's symbolizing and more about the plain narrative i think #but jareth's final speech?? EXTREMELY close to the final temptation in the desert #(the other thing these AND gravity falls have in common is so many fans want to bring back the villains in fics and i Do Not Relate xD)#(put jareth in the bog of eternal stench and leave im there nobody needs him)#asks #anon ask

21 notes · View notes

tremendum · 2 years ago

Note

please give me alllll of your mr miller headcanons, particularly the really kinky nasty stuff, i'm obsessed with your writing!! (no pressure)

yessss twist my arm i will start a little hc list for all the kinks mr miller would have (these aren’t thattttt nasty tho) NSFW BELOW THE CUT. MDNI. (rough sex, various kinks so be cautious lol)

(disclaimer - most of this is informed by my own interpretation of Mr Miller!Joel as well as some other great concepts i’ve probably read in a similar vein.)

ok let’s kick this off

fighting. this is obvious but he gets unbelievably hard seeing how worked up you get and the lengths you will go to piss him off. nothing gets him more turned on than when you call him disgusting or you disrespect him (he’s fucked up a bit ok)

he’s def got a sir kink in this series, loves when you act up but then have to treat him with respect to get what u want. he loves to tell you what a little slut you are for him and to hear you mutter back “thank you, sir”

i’ve mentioned this before: slapping. he’s def the kinda man who would get a thrill from fighting as we’ve seen and like if he makes u mad or something and you just smack him BAM he’s instantly hard. he thinks your anger is so hot and it fuels his fire

would be the kind of man to make you watch him jack off. he’d sit you on the ground on your knees while he palms himself, not let u touch yourself maybe even cuff you while he fucks his fist. and dirty talks the whole time, teasing you but absolutely losing it over how badly you want to touch him, how you beg to feel him in your throat. he’d def get off to the fact that you were a fucking mess for him and he’s in control

he’s def into ass play…. he’d threaten it at first but if you’re into it he’d fs finger your tight hole while fucking you or he’d make you finger yourself while fucking you doggystyle….,,, omfg.

he’s def into overstimulation and edging BOTH depending on his mood:

the brat tamer in joel would absolutely love to edge you until you’re sobbing - usually when he’s super pissed off. slowing down just as you’re about to cum, bringing you to the edge with his fingers, tongue, cock, anything and then taking it all away until you’re sobbing and furious. he’d also relish in making you touch yourself but not let you make yourself cum until he says so.

similarly but in a different tone, if Joel’s feeling affectionate or even jealous he’d want you to cum as many times as possible. nothing is sexier to him than how your slippery cunt squeezes him when you’re overstimulated - how your chest sweats, hands and thighs shake.

alluded to this already but he’d LOVE to tie u up. leave u stuck like that and tease u for hours oh my god and like seeing ur pretty holes exposed and so wet for him it’d drive you crazy

the sound of you begging while his cock is down ur throat. he loves throatfucking you god he dreams of it, making you choke on him and swallow around him, completely at his mercy.

if you’d established consent before he’d love to go down on you while you’re sleeping. waking up with his head between your thighs, def drawing several orgasms from u until ur screaming. or waking u up with his cock at your lips, slipping into ur mouth as u wake up. he’d love the bleary, blissed look in ur eyes as he takes u apart first thing

and of course he’d have a kink for almost getting caught. be it in the woods on patrol (if it’s safe ofc), near an open window, in public…. GOD and he’d love to tease you under a table or something before pretending he hadn’t done it. maybe he’d tell u not to wear panties under ur dress when you sit in the back of the cinema in Jackson during movie night so he can feel u….

i think he’d love loveeeee cumplay. cumming on you - your face, chest, tits, ass, pussy. even ur clothes. all of it. he wants you to lick it all clean for him, he’d be obsessed with playing with your puffy cunt that’s full of his cum and yours, then shoving his fingers down your throat to watch you lap it all up. he’s obsessed with it.

my last hc is a breeding kink. it’s more of the possession that comes with it - he doesn’t rly want a kid rn, lord knows he already has his hands full w ellie, but he gets so goddamn riled up at the idea of you walking around full of him. so he’d mutter the dirtiest shit to you about it and your flushed reaction just pushes him further - calling you dirty for wanting to be plugged full of him.

no tag list because i’m in class and lazy 😚 a work in progress. lmk what y’all think or if you have any other ideas!! i can expand on any of these 😏

#let's chat abt mr miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #the last of us (hbo)#the last of us (tv)#the last of us #mr miller is ruining my life tbh

317 notes · View notes

kirishimasbabygirl · 2 years ago

Text

Dating Kirishima

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: Hey!!! I've been having Kirishima brain rot of months now so it's y'all problem now lol

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He is the definition of a gentleman; he holds doors open for you, helps you up steps, and walks outside the sidewalk closer to the street.

The first time he took you out on a date, he almost threw himself across the hood of his truck to stop you from opening the car's door to get out.

"W-Wait holds on; I'll get it for you!"

He is so polite with your folks.

Tries real hard to impress them, brings flowers for your mama, and gives your pa a firm handshake and compliments that beat up on racing car his been "fixin' " for years.

He's shaking the whole time; you have to hold his hand to get him to relax.

"I just don't want to mess this up."

He LOVES to show you off.

He'll take you out and strut around with you on his arm like he won the lottery. (If you ask him, he'll say he did)

He was so excited for you to meet his friends he grew up with; he told you so many stories of them from high school you can't help but feel a little intimidated.

"Hey, look at me; they're going to love you, okay?"

And they do!

Mina and Danki would gang up on him and tell you the stupid shit he did when they were teens.

Sero would crack a joke at Kirishima's expense, and everything was fine!

You got along with everyone and felt really welcomed by them; the only one that worried you was Bakugou.

"Then he crashed his head through this guy's window-"

"H-hey! Maybe we don't let her that one."

He sat there all night quietly watching you and every move you made; it felt like he was staring you down by the time the two of you left.

Eijiro noticed how quiet you were returning to the house and asked what was wrong.

You told him you were worried about what bakugou thought of you; you know the two of them are best friends, and you didn't want to cause problems.

He stared at you in the corner of his eye and told you that you didn't need to worry about that.

Later that night, you heard him on the phone with the blond when he thought you had gone ahead and gone to sleep.

You could see a grin split across his face.

"So, what do you think about her?"

"She's nice, man. Sweet."

"Yeah? Yeah, she is; she's the best, bro. I mean, like, did you hear how she laughs? Oh god, don't get me started on her nose and -"

He could go on and on about how much he loves you to anyone who would listen.

The lady scanning his items at the store? He's talking about how his surprising you with your favorite ice cream.

The old woman his helping cross the street? He's talking about how cute you were playing with your little cousins at your last family reunion.

"I just love her so much."

He does adore you; you are his main drive in life, and he absolutely would do anything for you.

He once stopped what he was doing mid-guys night and RAN all the way home from across town because you called him that you watched a scary movie by yourself. You swear to god you saw something outside your window.

"Don't worry! I'm here!"

He's knocked motherfuckers out over you; one time at a club, your shared friend group dragged the two of you too, and he decided to hang back as Mina pulled you onto the dance floor.

He hung back with the boys and was shooting shots when he felt Katsuki nudge his arm; he looked up at his friend, whose eyes were glued on the dance floor.

He looked over to see these two guys pressed up against you, front and back, you clearly distressed, pushing on the guy in front of yous chest, while the guy behind you pressed up against you even more, sandwiching you between them.

He's never moved faster in his life; he flew out of his chair and was tearing them both off you before they could even open their mouths; he had them on the floor rumbling.

At some point, Katsuki, Kaminari, and Hanta, as well as Mina, had jumped in to whip their asses which caused all six of you to get kicked out.

You were apologizing the whole ride home when he pulled over and cupped your face.

"As long as I am alive, no one will ever touch you like that again."

And you believed him.

#kirishima x reader #mha eijirou #kirishima eijirou #eijiro kirishima #eijirou x reader #mha kirishima #mha x reader #bnha x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #mha headcanons #bnha headcannons #kay writes #dating hc #kirishima hcs #dating kirishima #boyfriend kirishima

563 notes · View notes

luckybunny555 · 1 year ago

Text

Secret admirer

You receive a strange gift and find out the identity of your secret admirer.

Amber Freeman x GN!/Fem!Reader(no pronouns but for sapphics)

Warnings: creepy behavior, stalking, cursing, usual Ghostface behavior, a little bit of trust issues, being "attacked" but not harmed, mentions of murder and violence(no big description tho), a little suggestive in the end(as a treat ;) )

a/n: Part 2. No bad ending, again. I mentioned a song at some point and if you don't listen to it while reading ur not getting the whole experience, disappointing. also, this one's a bit scarier than part one(at least in my opinion). I'm sorry if ur not actually a scared little bitch like I am, but I made the readed very scared because yes. I didn't proof-read the end bc I used every single brain cell I have to finish this today. I might read it later but no promises.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Because you were texting Amber, you didn't worry about walking home alone. The sun was setting, but you were reaching the front door already.

Amber

I can't believe you fell for that

You

Wha-

Mindy had a straight face when

she said that

I thought she just remembered

the movie better than me

Amber

I literally made you watch it a

hundread times

how could you not remember

also, lmk when you get home

You

what did u expect

I also closed my eyes a hundread

times bc I got scared

I'm already unlocking the door

Amber

ok good

told u you'd be safe with me

;)

You felt a warm feeling in your chest, stupidly staring at her message. The smile on your face was an evident sign of how whipped you were for her. Stepping into your home, you lock the door again, not taking your eyes off your phone.

Amber

I'm throwing a party saturday

My parents will be out, they

got a wedding or smth

ur coming, right?

Your smile grew. "Mom?" you shouted, your voice echoing through the empty house. You finally looked away from your phone, scanning the space around you. The house seemed empty, which was unusual. By that time, your mom should be home. All you could hear was faint music, which your mom probably forgot to turn off before she left the house. You walked towards the kitchen, answering Amber's text.

You

ofc, I never miss ur parties

Amber

Liar

You've missed 3 of my parties

You

ok true, but it wasn't on purpose

I don't have plans this saturday

You find a note on the fridge, "Meeting w/ client @ 5pm". Right. That's where your mom was. You place your phone on the counter, opening the fridge and looking for something to eat. Your phone vibrates again, another notification from Amber

Amber

brb, I'm gonna shower

You read the text from afar, still standing in front of the refrigerator. Grabbing a few ingredients, you place them on the counter, turning off your phone screen. More attuned to your surroundings, you recognize the song playing in the background. "We Belong Together" by Ritchie Valens. You didn't remember where you heard it, though. It was just familiar. And nice to listen to while you cook.

Focused on preparing your food, you're startled by the doorbell. You look at the door with your heart already racing. It was a mundane situation, but does anything feel normal when there's a masked killer around?

Slowly, you approach the door. But instead of opening, you look through the window beside it. No one was there. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, but you try to brush it off. "These fucking kids," you mutter to yourself, walking back to the kitchen.

You

I'm so stupid lol

Some dumb kid just ding-dong

ditched me and I got so scared

Not so long after, you hear the doorbell ring again. You try to convince yourself it's just a stupid prank. A terrible one to play when Ghostface is a threat, but kids are like that, right? This time, you quickly approach the door, determined to catch the person, opening it even though your hands are shaking.

Still, no one is there. But you find something. There's a box on the floor, with a pink bow on top and a note. "Sorry for scaring you :(". You hesitate, but take the box and lock the door again. You put it on the counter, unsure whether or not you should open it. Could it be from that admirer? Or was it from someone else? Before opening it, you decide to get a second opinion.

You

they left a box at my door

there's a note, "sorry for scaring

you"

should I open it?

I think it's from that stalker, but

idk

You wait a few seconds, but she doesn't read your texts. Maybe you should wait longer, but you're curious. It could be great, it could be horrible. Either way, you wanted to know. Maybe your mind was just being dramatic and this was actually a genuine apology gift. You shake the box, trying to make out what it could be, but it doesn't make a lot of noise. Must be something soft and light.

With your hands slightly trembling, you open it. It takes you a split second to understand it, but once you recognize it, you bring your hand to cover your mouth, your breath catching in your throat. Your favorite stuffed animal, one from your collection, with its head cut off. Beside it, another note. "Why didn't you write me back? >:("

Your head was filled with questions, "did they break into my house?", "how did they get it?", "are they still around?". Your phone rings, snapping you out of your momentary trance. It's Amber's number. She probably read your texts and her protective instinct kicked in. Your right hand was still covering your mouth as you reached for your phone. "Amber?"

"Hello, [name]," you don't recognize the voice. It wasn't Amber's, it was a male voice. And then it hits you: Amber's phone was cloned. By Ghostface. At that realization, you gasp, feeling your heart pounding as if it's trying to escape your chest. "Did you like my gift? And my sweet letters?"

You're too shocked to answer. Frozen in place, your only movements are involuntary. The trembling of your hands, the rise and fall of your chest, the accelerated breathing and heartbeats. An uncontrollable fear takes over you. Your eyes are glued to the torn out toy in front of you.

"Will you forgive me for loving you so much that I'm willing to protect you from everything… and everyone?" They speak again, and you slowly remove your hand from your face, supporting your weight against the counter, feeling weak in the knees.

An ounce of rationality is still left in you, despite the terrifying situation you find yourself in. "Where are you?" You ask with your voice shaking, a satisfying sound for Ghostface.

"Don't worry, I'm not inside... yet," the implied threat makes you shut your eyes instinctively, wishing that everything would disappear. But it isn't the brightest idea, so you open them again and look around, trying to stay alert. "Let's play a game, I'll give you three chances to guess who I am. You have to play by the rules. No calling for help, and don't close your curtains. I need to see if you're playing fair."

The last sentence sends a shiver down your spine. They could see you. Your gaze shifts to the window, terrified to see what you'd find. But hopefully, or not, you only saw the sky turning dark. "No..." Your voice shakes again, and you try to hold back your tears of desperation, "I know better than to play games with you."

"Oh, you don't want to play?" They sound displeased, which fills you with dread. "Let's skip forward then, I'll show you who I am," they say impatiently, "Open the front door."

By that time, the tears were falling to your cheeks. Your pants and gasps were audible through the phone, and it felt like your heartbeats were too. You couldn't move, and you obviously didn't want to let them in, but maybe the choice was merely an illusion. Your cries become more evident through the phone.

"Open the damn door, [name], or I'll get in myself and I won't be as nice as I would be," the caller threatened, and you are completely taken over by fear, filling every fiber of your body.

"Please, don't hurt me," you sob, begging for mercy as you turn around, facing the door a few steps ahead of you. You slowly walk towards it, continuing to plead.

"That's not my plan, sweetheart," Ghostface replies on the phone, "as long as you do what I say."

Your hands never trembled as much as they did once they touched the doorhandle. With a deep, shaky exhale, you open the door, facing the terrifying tall frame, covered in black and hidden behind the Ghostface mask. You let out a whimper as more tears fell to your cheeks. You gasp once your eyes meet the shiny blade in their hand.

In a startling, quick move, you were trapped against the wall, with the knife pressed to your neck, and you drop your phone on the floor. Instinctively, you scream, but the gloved hand covers your mouth before you can make a sound loud enough to be heard. They close the door with their feet, the loud noise making you jump in place. You shut your eyes, not wanting to face them.

The two of you were silent for a moment, the faint music filling the eerie atmosphere along with your sobs and loud breaths, followed by Ghostface's amused chuckle. They slowly removed the hand from your mouth, allowing you to breathe more easily, and you open your eyes, scanning the view in front of you. You didn't make a sound, and you tried your best to steady your breaths as much as you could before you had a heart attack.

"I told you I wouldn't hurt you if you behaved," they break the silence, and amidst the turmoil in your mind, you question their intentions and reasons. What made you different to them? Why hadn't they attacked you immediately, like they did with Tara and Vince?

Well, for one, all their love letters and gifts. Somehow, you had Ghostface in love with you, and you just realized that. Two people in one. And now, you could figure out who they actually were.

"Curious?" They ask, noticing the expression on your face, how you bit your lip, making it seem like the wheels in your mind were turning. "Go on, turn it off," the command, tapping on the voice modifier from the mask with their free hand. Your sobs had momentarily ceased, but your hands were still shaking when you hesitantly reached to press the button. You hear a low chuckle behind the mask, "recognize me now?"

It took you a moment to believe it. To make sense of it. Your eyes widened, and the look on your face was clearly of shock. Subconsciously, your lips part slightly in disbelief. How could it be her? "Amber?" you whisper, your voice faltering with hesitancy. You earn a mischevous giggle from the girl in front of you.

Her free hand reaches up, taking off her mask and throwing it on the floor, once again making you jump at the noise. There's a wicked smile imprinted on her face, staining her image in your mind. Noticing your furrowed brows, her expression changes slightly to one of pity, or remorse.

She pouts, her gaze meeting yours with a sympathetic look, "Aw, baby, I'm sorry I had to scare you," her tone changes to a sickingly sweet, an implied mocking of your position and reaction. "I just find it so cute, y'know?"

You weren't expecting that to be her motive. Deep down, it was starting to make you angry at her. But this feeling was buried by the sensation of the cold blade against your neck. And she still had a lot of explaining to do.

"Remember the first time I made you watch Stab?" She asks you, her voice laced with amusement, and a smile growing on her face. "I mean, it' wasn't even such a scary movie, but you were so terrified," she laughs, and even in that terrible moment, you love the sound.

Imperceptibly, she placed a hand on your hip, keeping you in place and maintaining her control. She looks at you with a sweet, satisfied expression. "It was so adorable. I loved how scared you got," she confessed with such a natural, charismatic demeanor, as if she hadn't planned a whole terrifying scene, just for you.

“You were clinging to me and you wanted me to protect you so bad. And I realized, I wanted that too.” With a wide smile, she chuckles mischievously. Her eyes observe you attentively, taking in every detail, every subtle movement. She loved to see your tear-stained cheeks and glossy eyes. It was terrible, and she knew that, but didn't you look impossibly beautiful in that moment? "That night," she continues, her face getting closer to yours as her eyes find your parted lips, "you begged me to let you stay over and to sleep with me. It was fucking cute, seriously," her eyes meet yours again as she lets out a low chuckle. Even though you hated that moment, how scared you were, you still found the genuity in everything she was saying.

"I could barely sleep, because it felt so good to hold you close, and I really felt like I was protecting you, y’know?" Her tone escalates with passion, emphasizing the sincerity in her words. "From what? Nothing. But it was nice.”

It was infuriating to hear everything. To go through all that terror, just because... she liked it? Why would she go so far to scare you?

“But with time you got over it and you didn’t need me anymore. And I still wanted that. I wanted you to need me to protect you," she continues her monologue, a classic after villain reveals. It was really starting to feel like you were in a stupid slasher movie that she likes so much. "I needed some threat, something dangerous to scare you."

You finally find the courage to cut her off, "That's why you did all of this?" Your tone gave away how irritated you were, although still fearful, "Because you wanted me to feel like... I was in a fucking horror movie?" Your voice becomes slightly bolder, in spite of the risk. You couldn't believe her.

She feigns being offended, then exhales with a quiet chuckle. "Sweetheart, the threats were already there," she responds, her grip tightening in response to her growing intensity. "Like that Vince guy. Gosh, he was a weird fucking creep. And you were scared of him, I know that, but he could actually hurt you. And I would never let that happen," she continues to explain her twisted motives. "It couldn’t be anyone else, because I never wanted you to get hurt. I wouldn’t trust anyone else."

At that mention, you recall his murder. You were with your friends at that bar the night he was killed. You were worried about your safety. He was into Liv, and you could very well be his next target. Amber had noticed the way you held her hand in that moment, tightly with worry, but the threat was real, and she wanted to protect you. Which is exactly what she did. What better way to keep you safe than to eliminate the threat? That's how her mind worked.

The slightest hint of understanding was appearing in your expression. A hint that Amber didn't miss, ever so attentive. "Do you get it now?" she asks genuinely, as if everything she did was right. "It had to be me. Because I would never hurt you. Because other people would," her tone is so sweet and caring, you forget she is the one holding the knife to your neck.

Actually, it doesn't matter. She might be holding it, but it means nothing. The girl in front you could've killed you long ago, yet she was confessing everything she did for you, without drawing a single drop of your blood. She might as well be holding the blade against her heart, because the girl is crazy for you, quite literally. If you got hurt, by any means, it would break her. From the moment she fell for you, protecting you was a necessary act to protect herself.

With that understanding, the clarity of your realization, your anger gradually faded. Her elaborate, sick and twisted web had the purpose of protecting you. She was poisoned with love. Could you blame her for her whole performance? (You totally could)

But you didn't. For the same reason you answered your stalker's letters, and opened the gift box. For the same reason you let Amber convince you to watch Stab a thousand times, despite hating horror movies. Yes, you have terrible taste for lovers. But you love the thrill. With her, you'd have security, protection, a little bit of action and lots of excitement. It was a twisted game, but you knew in the end it was safe to play. Because she was completely, head over heels in love with you.

[...]

#scream #scream v #scream 5 #amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x you #scream 5 x reader #scream x reader

101 notes · View notes