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imaginedisish · 26 days

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Close to You (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Oh my god. I got so carried away with this. It was not supposed to be this long. Anyway, here's the beach fic, y'all. This one is inspired by "Close to You" by Gracie Abrams...which is an absolute banger. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The team goes away on a weekend beach trip, and your pining for Logan comes to a head when you're forced to share a room...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!! Thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, soft!Logan, feelings, fluff, afab!reader/fem!reader, reader wears a bikini (no descriptions at all, though!), one bed trope (muahaha), friends to lovers, cursing, absolutely some grammatical errors bc this fic is so long, I think that's it!

Word Count: 6,577 this was so self indulgent

You step out onto the concrete and the salt in the air immediately coats your skin. The breeze is sticky and slightly humid, but it smells so good. You can hear the waves crashing against the sand, seagulls squawking above. Laughter on the boardwalk. Carnival music blaring from all the rides. It’s perfect—the sun is high, fluffy white clouds framing the endless blue sky.

“We’re going to have so much fun!” Jubilee cheers, closing the car door as she slides out of the Jeep.

Jean and Scott step out of their car, parked just up ahead, unloading their bags. “It’s so nice of the Professor to give us the weekend off!” Jean says excitedly, placing her bag down onto the sidewalk and wheeling it up to the porch of the house. “I can’t believe he rented this place for us.” It’s a yellow, two-story cottage with a lemonade porch, adorned with white shutters and a shingled roof.

Logan makes his way to the trunk of his Jeep, pulling out bag after bag. You rush to his side, reaching inside the trunk. “Let me help you,” you mumble as the rest of the team excitedly approaches the house.

Logan smiles and shakes his head, reaching for the same bag you are. His fingertips brush yours as he takes the bag away, your heart beating in your chest at the sudden contact. “Don’t worry, princess,” he huffs, smirking as he places the bag down in front of you. Heat rises to your chest at the nickname. “Don’t lift a finger. Go inside and check out the place.” He nods his head towards the front door and grabs another bag.

You smile, throwing your backpack over your shoulder, grabbing two bags, and carrying them to the front door in protest. “Gonna help you anyway,” you say over your shoulder. Logan chuckles as he closes the truck, grabbing the rest of the duffle bags and following behind you.

He meets your side as you walk through the doors. The walls are pale blue, and the bottom halves are lined with white shiplap. Beechwood covers the floors. The living room is light and airy, white curtains floating through opened windows. The kitchen is off to the side, and to the back is a large open sunroom. Just straight ahead are the stairs.

Jean and Scott settle some groceries on the counter as Jubilee, Kurt, Rogue, and Gambit head upstairs to see the bedrooms.

“Hey, guys?” Jubilee calls from upstairs. You can tell by the sound of her voice that something is off. “I thought the Professor said there’d be six beds.”

Jean puts away a bag of chips and steps back into the living room, following Jubilee’s voice up the steps, and disappearing as her feet hit the landing. “How many are there?” She asks, her voice muffled.

“Five,” Jubilee answers. “Three queens and two bunk beds, and Kurt and I took the bunks already.”

“That’s fine,” Jean says, shrugging her shoulders as she heads back downstairs. “We’ll all just be a little tight—closer quarters than usual.”

And that’s when it finally hits you. Three queen beds—and Kurt and Jubilee took the twin bunks.

You’ll be sharing a room with Logan.

You turn to him and find that his eyes are already on you. “You okay sharing, princess?” He asks, nodding to the steps.

You swallow harshly, trying to mask your nervousness, hoping Logan can’t hear the way your heart beats out of your chest. “Yeah!” You say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Totally fine with it.”

He nods, smiling softly as he walks towards the steps, his bags in his hands. You follow behind him, the wood stairs creaking with every step you take.

Jean was not exaggerating; the upstairs of the house is extremely small. There may be four bedrooms—but bedroom is a generous title. Each room is only large enough to hold a queen bed, a single dresser, and a small nightstand on either side of the bed. There’s little to no walking room. One of the rooms—Kurt and Jubilee’s—has just a bunk bed and a nightstand, with a tiny wardrobe in the corner. In the center of the tight hallway is a bathroom with a simple sink, toilet, and a stand-up shower.

Logan steps into the first bedroom to the left of the stairs and puts his bags down on the ground. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asks, watching as you put your bags down next to his. “I can sleep on the couch if you’re uncomfortable.”

You shake your head, walking over to the window and taking in the view of the ocean. “Don’t worry,” you say, watching kids run across the sand, trying to distract yourself from how close Logan is to you in this tiny room. “We’re adults.” You turn to face him, fighting the urge to let your eyes trail up and down his body. “We can share.” Or at least, you hope you can.

You can handle this for a weekend. You can force down your feelings—can ignore your massive crush on Logan for seventy-two hours. That’s all this is. A weekend trip. This is doable. You’ve been through so much worse than this.

“If you change your mind, you can let me know,” Logan says, reaching his arm out towards your shoulder. His knuckles brush against your bare skin, and you let yourself lean into his touch. He’s warm, solid, cozy—

“Let’s go to the beach!” Jubilee interrupts, Logan’s hand falling from your shoulder instantly. “We didn’t come here to sit in a house all weekend, did we?” She jumps away from the door and runs down the stairs.

“Kid has a point,” Logan says, shrugging his shoulders and nodding towards the door. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling widely. “Already have my bathing suit on.” Logan smiles back and grabs your wrist, tugging you into the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door.

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You’re sitting on the beach, watching as Jubilee and Kurt splash each other recklessly in the water. Jean sits in a chair, reading a book, while Scott lays on a beach towel, eyes likely closed behind his glasses. Rogue and Gambit walk down the shoreline, hand in hand.

Logan stands up from the beach blanket you share, tugging his beater up and over his head. “I’m going in,” he says, just to you. “Wanna come?” He reaches out his hand again, the same hand that tugged you the whole way here. You bite your lip, nerves building in your stomach again. “Come on,” Logan says, smirking. “I don’t bite.”

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you take his hand, standing up. You let go and tug your shorts down your legs. You look up at Logan as your fingertips find the hem of your tank top, his eyes trained firmly on you. Your stomach somersaults as you pull your shirt up your body, revealing your bikini top, knowing Logan is watching.

Logan’s throat bobs as he swallows. He nods towards the ocean, wordlessly grabbing your hand again and tugging you along.

The waves lap at your ankles, and you force yourself into the cold water. Logan seemingly has no problem at all, pulling you along from a few feet ahead. The water is already up to his hips. He looks behind at you, all wide-eyed and happy.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” He teases, squeezing your hand tighter. Your heart drums against your ribcage at the feeling. He’s never held your hand like this. You try to shove down your feelings, to brush away how having him this close makes you feel, but nothing changes. You want him all the same.

You take a deep breath and shake your head as the cold water barrels against the middle of your thighs. “No,” you protest. “I’m just freezing.”

Logan smiles wider. “You gotta get all the way in!” He tugs you further, pulling you closer to him so that you’re shoulder to shoulder. You can’t tell if it’s the icy waves or your proximity to Logan that makes your heart freeze in your chest, that makes you crave the warmth of his body. You want to be close to him. You want him to pull you into his chest and hold you.

“Do I have to?” You ask playfully, a half-smile turning up at the corner of your mouth.

He jokingly rolls his eyes. “Come on,” he says, dropping your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist instead. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. You choke on your own breath as he guides you further into the water. “You okay?” He asks.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, his fingertips pressing against the bare skin of your stomach. Goosebumps pebble your flesh. Finally, Logan guides you all the way into the water, up to your shoulders. It’s a surprisingly calm day—the waves easy and gentle.

Logan lets go of your waist and treads water, slipping underneath the dark blue current and coming back up—his hair wet, drops of water dripping down his face and neck. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips at the sight.

“Your turn,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes half shut as he swims towards you.

Your smile drops as you swim away. Logan grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him. You yelp as he tugs you closer. You turn around and splash him playfully, freeing yourself from his grasp as he wipes the salt water off his face.

You laugh, still backing away from Logan. He creeps forward, assessing you like an animal stalks its prey. “You’re not getting away that easy, pretty girl,” he huffs.

What was that? Your eyes widen as those last two words repeat in your head. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice him closing the gap between the two of you. Suddenly his hands are on your hips, dragging you into his chest.

His grip is like iron around your waist, keeping you in place, your hips pressed to his, your chests touching lightly. You don’t feel the coldness of the water anymore—you can’t feel anything except Logan.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy. The world stopped long ago, his arms wrapping around your back now, pulling you closer. The playfulness of the moment disappears—this is something else, something more serious. Logan brings his face closer to yours, his lips just centimeters away. This is it, you think to yourself. The moment when everything finally changes—

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls from the beach. Logan’s eyes fall closed—an almost defeated look painting across his face. Your head whips to the sand, and the team is standing by the beach chairs. Jubilee waves you and Logan over. “We’re going to the boardwalk! Come on!”

Logan opens his eyes. You think he’s going to push you away, to let you go, but he only holds you tighter. “Give us a second!” He shouts, frustration clear in his voice.

But Jubilee crosses her arms against her chest. Scott chuckles and walks ahead with Jean. Gambit and Rogue look at each other knowingly, and Kurt teleports to the edge of the water.

“And just like that…” Logan murmurs, half to himself, half to you. “Moment ruined.”

You tilt your head, the implication of his words wracking your brain. “What do you mean—”

But Logan is pulling you along with him to the shore before you can finish asking for clarification. His arms drop from your waist, his hand grabbing yours to guide you onto the sand. He bends down, picking up your shorts and top from the beach blanket the team left out, and passing them to you.

“Thanks,” you mumble, your hands parting as he shoves his beater up and over his head. Once you’re dressed, flip-flops and all, you join the team and make your way up to the boardwalk.

Gambit is talking with Logan about something just ahead, trailing on and on, clearly irritating Logan, while Rogue falls back to walk with you.

“So,” she says softly, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. “What’s going on there, sugar?” She asks, smirking.

You furrow your brows, trying to hide your smile. “Nothing that I know of,” you say, somewhat honestly. This might be nothing—might just be a friend teasing another friend. A friend whose lips were just inches from yours, so close that you could feel his breath fanning across your face. A friend who dug his fingers into your waist to pull you closer to his—

“Nothing, huh?” She asks, snapping you back to reality. “Because I think he would’ve kissed you if Jubilee didn’t interrupt,” she whispers so only you can hear.

Heat rises to your chest at her words. “I don’t know. We’re just friends…” You trail off.

“We’ll see about that, sugar,” Rogue says, walking ahead, tearing Gambit away from Logan. Logan’s shoulders visibly relax once Gambit is gone, and he looks back at you, slowing his steps so that you can meet his side.

“Hi,” he husks, smiling down at you.

You smile back, the warmth of his hand suddenly spreading across your lower back. It’s gentle, the ghost of a touch, almost not quite there—more tentative than in the ocean when it felt like no one was watching. But it’s solid and centering all the same.

“Let’s go on the Ferris wheel!” Jubilee suggests, holding out the ticket booklet that Jean and Scott ran ahead to buy. She tears out tickets—three for each person. Jean and Scott hold hands and walk to the front of the line. Rogue leans over to Jubilee, whispering something into her ear that makes her eyes widen. She nods and pairs off with Kurt. Rogue turns around and winks at you while Logan isn’t looking.

You look up at him and see that he’s staring off at the sun slowly setting. Pink, orange, and red erupt in the sky, the colors blending, painting across the wispy clouds. “Looks like it’s just you and me,” you say as the others climb into the Ferris wheel gondolas in pairs.

Logan smirks, his eyes finding yours as you approach the front of the line. “Looks like it, pretty girl,” he husks. There it is again. Pretty girl. The ride attendant slows down the wheel, and you and Logan slip inside the gondola. You think maybe he’ll sit across from you, but he sits next to you instead.

The attendant closes the door of the gondola, and the ride starts up. Once you’re off the ground, Logan slips his arm around your shoulder, his palm warm against your bare skin. “This okay?” He asks, his lips at the shell of your ear.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as his thumb brushes gentle circles into your arm. You let your head rest in the crook of his neck, and he leans against you, fitting together like puzzle pieces.

It’s silent communication—knowing, but not saying. You can feel his intention as his arm tugs you closer, his lips at the crown of your head. Your heart beats out of your chest—for the millionth time today—and you know he can hear it.

You reach the top of the Ferris wheel and look out at the ocean, the sun hitting the water, turning the blue waves to gold. “It’s beautiful,” you mumble, the current rippling against the shore, glistening vibrantly like the ocean figured out alchemy.

Logan chuckles softly. “I can think of something prettier, you know,” he husks, his lips still pressed into the crown of your head. Your heart thumps in your chest at his words. You lift your head, looking up at him.

His eyes meet yours, a soft smile playing upon his lips. “Logan, I—”

But the gondola comes to a sudden stop, and the door to the car swings open. You’re already back on the ground. The attendant crosses his arms, waiting for you and Logan to get out. Logan rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and helping you back onto the boardwalk. The team is already off the ride, waiting for the two of you at the exit.

“Why don’t we play some games and then head back to the house for the night?” Scott suggests, his arm wrapped around Jean’s waist.

Jubilee smiles widely. “Yes! I wanna play the game where you throw the lobster into the pot!”

“Gambit’s gonna win chere a prize,” Gambit drawls, tugging Rogue into his chest. “The biggest one Gambit can find.” Rogue giggles, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jubilee and Kurt run off to the other side of the boardwalk, immediately finding the lobster-pot game. Jean and Scott follow behind, making sure they don’t get into trouble. Rogue and Gambit go out on their own, heading toward the ring toss game.

You and Logan are left alone. Again. Surely everyone is doing this on purpose. “What do you wanna play?” You ask, nodding towards the array of games lined up on the opposite side of the boardwalk.

His eyes meet yours, flitting down to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “Whatever you want, darlin’.” You smile, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards balloon darts.

You approach the booth, and Logan pulls out his wallet, handing a five-dollar bill to the woman running the game. She slides a cup of five darts towards you and Logan, and steps off to the side, away from the balloons. Logan watches as you grab a dart and throw, completely missing the balloon you were aiming for. You groan, rolling your eyes, and grab another dart.

“Here,” Logan rasps, standing behind you. He holds your hand in his, lining the dart up to a balloon. His other arm wraps around your waist, the front of his hips pressing into your back. “Like this,” he murmurs, pulling your hand back. You let go of the dart when he thrusts forward. The dart pierces a balloon, the pop echoing through the booth.

You look up at him, his face close to yours, and smile. He grabs another dart, his eyes still focused on you, and throws without looking away, popping another balloon. “Now you’re just showing off,” you say teasingly as your smile grows wider. He grabs another dart, aiming at a bigger balloon this time, and pierces it with ease.

“Gotta win you a prize, pretty girl,” he says, grabbing the last dart from the cup, and tossing it across the booth, directly into the biggest balloon on the board. It pops—of course—and the game attendant’s jaw drops.

She shakes her head, walking over to the bigger prizes. “Never seen anyone do that before…” she trails off, pointing to the giant plushies. “You can pick any of these.”

Logan’s arm sneakily wraps around your waist as he waits for you to pick between a giant fox, panda, or dolphin. “The fox, definitely the fox,” you decide.

The attendant grabs the fox and pulls it down, handing it to you. You squeeze it to your chest, Logan’s grip on your waist tightening. “He’s so cute!” You giggle, looking up at Logan, who’s guiding you towards the edge of the boardwalk. “Thank you,” you say softly.

He shakes his head and looks out towards the water. “It was nothing,” he says, his arm still around your waist as you lean against the railing of the boardwalk. The sun is falling behind the horizon, stars rising in the sky.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he turns to face you. “Listen…” He starts, his jaw working as his grip on your waist falls away, his forearms bracing on the railing. Your shoulder presses against his, the tension between you palpable. “I’ve been thinking…” But he pauses again, his eyes searching yours.

“We ready to head back to the house?” Scott asks, interrupting the conversation. Logan’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he leans forward.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Logan mutters, thinking you can’t hear him, resting his head against the railing.

Jubilee grabs your arm, holding up her little stuffed teddy bear. “Look what I won!” Her smile drops when she sees your giant fox. “Oh my god, my bear is nothing compared to that! That thing is massive!”

You smirk, glancing over at Logan. “Wouldn’t have gotten it if it wasn’t for him.” Logan lifts his head and smiles sheepishly at you.

The moon rises high in the quickly darkening sky. You’re not quite sure where the day went. Everything happened so quickly—the hours spent on the sand, Logan tugging you into the water. It was perfect. Beyond perfect. And now it was time to head back.

The team treks down the boardwalk and onto the street, trailing a few blocks before arriving back at the house. You and Logan walk shoulder to shoulder the whole way there, leading at the front of the group. Logan grabs the key from his pocket, unlocks the door, and you all head inside.

Jubilee and Kurt run into the kitchen scavenging for snacks. Gambit and Rogue crash onto the living room couch.

“We’re gonna head to bed,” Scott says, Jean following him up the stairs. “Night, guys.” Everyone mutters soft goodnights in response, and a comfortable silence falls upon the house.

“Gonna steal the upstairs shower before they get to it,” you whisper to Logan, nodding to Jubilee and Kurt.

He smirks. “I’ll shower down here,” he says back. “See you upstairs?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, suddenly remembering that you’re sharing not just a room with Logan, but a bed. You walk away and head upstairs, grabbing your pajamas from your duffle bag and making your way to the bathroom.

You turn on the water and undress. The shower is warm and relaxing, releasing the tension you had spent the entire day holding in. But the peace is temporary—your thoughts drift off to Logan. You imagine him sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, waiting for you to join him. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you try to ignore the heat growing at the bottom of your belly. Maybe you should’ve taken a cold shower instead.

You finish up in the shower, turning the water off and grabbing a towel. You reach for your pajamas, only to realize you forgot your bottoms and your bra. You step into your panties and shrug your oversized band t-shirt over your head. You push the bathroom door open just a crack, and seeing no one in the hallway, you make a break for it, tip-toeing to your room. You slip inside and shut the door.

Logan coughs from behind you, and you whip around. “S-sorry,” he stutters, standing up from the edge of the bed. He’s shirtless, just like you imagined he’d be, wearing only a pair of boxers. His hair is still damp from his shower. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off. “No, no,” you assure. “It’s totally fine.” You’re worried you sound too eager, too focused on making sure he stays. You clear your throat nervously, stepping towards your duffle bag. You lean down, hoping your t-shirt is still covering your ass as you rifle through your belongings. You groan when you finally realize you forgot to pack pajama shorts. You stand up and make your way around to the left side of the bed.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks, following suit and walking to the right side of the bed.

“Yeah,” you say. “I, um…” You trail off, motioning towards your duffle bag. “I forgot pajama bottoms,” you finally spit out. “If you’re uncomfortable or—”

“No,” Logan cuts you off this time. “I’m not uncomfortable at all.”

You smile, climbing into the bed and slipping under the covers, and Logan does the same. He rolls onto his side and turns off the lamp—the only light on in the room. The space is engulfed in darkness save for the pale light of the moon pushing through the curtains.

You take a deep breath; you’re more nervous than you can comprehend. You could simply turn away from Logan, but you’re too anxious to move. Your stomach somersaults as his knee brushes against your thigh. You force your eyes shut, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

“I can hear your heartbeat, you know,” Logan mumbles into the dark room, shuffling under the covers. “You okay?”

You swallow harshly, humming a soft mhm, too distracted to form a complete sentence.

“I know you aren’t telling the truth, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, his hand finding your waist. “I can sleep on the couch, if you—”

“No,” you protest, the words escaping your lips almost uncontrollably. “It’s f-fine,” you stammer. “I’m fine.”

He chuckles darkly. “Then what’s got you so worked up, huh?” Oh. He knows. He has to know. You can hear it in his voice.

“N-nothing,” you lie, your eyes fluttering open. Logan is closer to you now, his fingertips trailing down to your thighs, to the hem of your shirt.

“Relax,” Logan husks, his hand slipping back up your body and settling on your waist. He tugs you closer to him. “This okay?” He asks, and you hum a quiet yes. You can feel the tension thickening, feel it readying to snap. He breaks the silence. “Thought about this all day, you know.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “Th-this?” You ask, your legs tangling with his.

“Being alone with you,” Logan rasps. Your shirt hikes up as he pulls you into his chest. “Wanted to get you alone earlier,” he says, his hand sliding back down your body, playing with the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingertips drag along your stomach.

You curse under your breath, Logan’s forehead pressing against yours. “Logan,” you whisper, his name the only thing you can think of. You’re sure he can smell the arousal building between your thighs.

“There’s no going back from this. You know that, don’t you?” He whispers, his breath hot against your lips. He’s so close, his thigh pushing between your legs, bumping against your core.

“Yes,” you sigh. “Don’t wanna go back.”

Your eyes flutter closed, overwhelmed by how close Logan is to you. “Good,” he breathes. “Because you have no idea how much I need you.”

His lips crash against yours, his thigh dragging along your core. You moan into his mouth, his tongue swiping across your lower lip. You part your lips, inviting him inside, his tongue tasting yours.

“Logan,” you whine, involuntarily bucking your hips, grinding down on his thigh. “N-need you too.”

“I know, beautiful,” he soothes, gripping your waist, rolling you onto your back, pushing you into the mattress. “Fucking thought about you all day, always thinking about you.” He slides your shirt up above your tits, drinking you in with his eyes. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl.” He hovers over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand explores your body.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he palms your left breast, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and then doing the same to the other side. It’s dizzying having him this close. You can smell his body wash—notes of musk and pine and a hint of leather on his skin.

“Please,” you beg, not quite sure what you’re even begging for. All you know is how badly you want him—need him.

Logan buries his face into the crook of your neck as his thumb rolls over your nipple, biting down on your pulse point and sucking the sensitive skin between his lips. “Please what, darlin’?” He mumbles, continuing his assault on your neck.

“F-fuck,” you whimper, your hips rocking against Logan’s. “W-want you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? That what you want?” Logan teases, his hand pushing between your legs, his fingertips finding your clit through your panties. “What if I wanted to taste you first?”

“W-whatever you want,” you moan, grinding down onto his hand. “I’m yours.”

He lifts his head from your neck and presses his forehead to yours. “Whatever I want?” His voice is thick, cocky, almost mocking. “You’re mine,” he husks, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck. “All fucking mine.” He crawls down your body, trailing kisses down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, stopping just above the hem of your panties.

Your hips lift off the mattress as his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and he tugs them down your legs, throwing them to the floor. He nestles between your thighs, his breath hot against your cunt. You tremble in anticipation, watching as he breathes you in, his jaw working. You can see in his eyes that he’s holding himself back.

“Are you sure you want this, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice suddenly soft, his cockiness replaced by genuine care. "Not gonna be able to stop once I start.” But you know he doesn’t just mean in the moment, right now—he means forever.

“I’m sure, Lo,” you whine. It comes out like a prayer, like a desperate cry, a guilty plea.

And then he buries his face into your heat, his tongue swiping through your folds. He grunts against you, flicking your clit before stroking his tongue through your folds again. “Fuck,” Logan groans, his face pressing harder into you, his tongue exploring your cunt. “Tastes better than I ever imagined,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his voice pulsing against your core. “So fucking sweet.”

Your hips jolt away from him as his tongue laps at your sensitive clit. His palms quickly slide under your legs, wrapping around your thighs, yanking you back to his face, and holding you down onto the mattress. “Don’t move, princess,” he chides, his nails digging into your flesh. “Wanna eat this pretty pussy.”

“L-Lo,” you stutter as his tongue draws tight, rapid circles around your clit. You’re already close, his teasing words enough to push you over the edge. But you know he’s nowhere near done—he’s only getting started.

His right hand loosens its grip around your thigh, his nails dragging down the curve of your ass and towards your folds. His fingertips prod your slit, spreading your slick. “So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” he praises, his lips wrapping around your clit, his teeth grazing the bud lightly as he sucks. “Want my fingers?” He asks, knowing your answer, but wanting to hear you beg for him.

“Yes, Logan, please. Need—”

He’s thrusting two long, thick fingers deep inside you before you can finish your sentence. “Fuck,” he whispers, pulling out and pumping back in—down to his knuckles. He stills inside you, letting you adjust to him. “So goddamn tight.” His tongue laps at your clit. “Gonna have to work you open for me, hm?” He mutters, thrusting in and out now.

You’re so overwhelmed, your swollen clit already overstimulated. He wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking harder this time, his fingers unrelenting as they plunge deeper with every pump. His tongue draws long, hard strokes around your bud, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

It feels like a wildfire is spreading through your veins, a current dragging you under and holding you down. Warmth blossoms in your belly. “Doing so good for me, beautiful,” Logan praises, his fingers fucking into you. Your walls flutter around him at his words, sucking him in deeper. “Know you’re close, pretty girl.”

“Logan,” you moan, his tongue drawing those tight circles around your clit again. He’s adding more pressure, his fingers dragging along your walls, scissoring inside you, splitting you in two. “Please, need to come…” You trail off, your back arching off the mattress, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Come for me,” Logan demands, his voice dark and filled with lust. “Wanna know what it tastes like.” His tongue presses harder into your clit, his fingers rocking in and out of your entrance. “Wanna see that pretty face when you let go.”

And then the tension breaks, white-hot heat pouring freely from the bottom of your belly. Your vision goes blurry as Logan laps at your clit, his fingers still pumping in and out, working you through your high. You moan his name, pleasure ripping through your body in intense waves.

His pumps relax, his fingers stilling inside you before he finally pulls out. His face is still buried against your cunt, licking long stripes through your folds. He’s savoring the taste of your release, drinking every last drop you have to give. “Can’t get enough of you,” he husks. “Could do this forever.”

He licks one last long stripe through your folds before lifting his face from your cunt. He’s a mess—your release glistening on his chin, his hair disheveled, his boxers all wrinkled. Your heart beats in your chest at the sight. All this, just for you.

Logan crawls up your body, hovering over you again, lowering down onto his forearm. “Wanna fuck you, beautiful,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing to yours. “Wanna know what you feel like.” His hand slips between your legs, his fingertips finding your swollen clit and giving it a gentle pinch. Your hips buck against him at the sudden sensation.

“Wanna feel you too,” you whimper, your arms wrapping around his back. “Want you inside me, please.”

And then he’s tugging his boxers down his legs, his erection pressing against the inside of your thigh. You can’t see—but you can feel just how massive he is. His tip slides through your folds, spreading your arousal.

“You know how bad I need you?” Logan whispers, his lips finding yours. He bites your lower lip and kisses away the pain. “You know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” And then he sinks himself inside you, down to the hilt with one smooth, fluid thrust. “Thought about this every day since I met you.”

Your muscles release and contract at his words. His hips stall, letting you adjust to the size of him. You feel indescribably full. He’s splitting you open, stretching you out, claiming you as his. His hips pull back, his cock sliding out, and he plunges back in, somehow deeper this time.

“Th-thought about you too,” you stutter, already too fucked out to form a coherent thought. “Always wanted you.” Logan sets a reckless pace as his fingertips find your clit again, working long, languid strokes into the bud, teasing you, leading you on.

“You feel so perfect,” Logan praises, rocking into you, his cock dragging along your walls. “So fucking warm, so tight. Made for me.” His lips are on yours again, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting you, swallowing your moans. “Never gonna want anybody else, pretty girl.”

His hips snap against yours, his fingers circling your clit faster now. “Just want you, Lo,” you choke, the tension building at the bottom of your belly, a fire burning through your bones. “Only want you.”

“I know,” he whispers, his voice suddenly soft, contrasting with the way he pounds into you recklessly, hitting that sweet spot inside you with every pump of his cock. “It’s you, just you.” You can hear the emotion in his voice, the sincerity, the desperation, the aching longing.

Your chest heaves against his. He’s fucking you to get closer to you, to be as deep inside you as possible. This isn’t just sex—this isn’t just some tension that needs to be broken. It’s an invisible string keeping the two of you tied closely together. Maybe it was stitched by the Fates centuries ago, laid out carefully, a plan to be executed. Maybe everything that led you to this moment was always meant to be. Because here you are now, his lips soft and hungry against yours, his words tearing through your resolve, his cock buried deep inside you, searching for a way to get deeper. And all you can think is…

This is it. This is what people mean when they talk about love—that word that changes its meaning every time you say it. The word with a definition that always escapes you. You know what it means now.

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, that fire in your belly spreading through your body as he rams into you, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing along the walls of the tiny room. His fingers press harder into your clit, pinching softly, and then circling again.

His cock twitches inside you. “Me too, beautiful,” he hums, his pace growing sloppier, his cock throbbing again. “You’re so perfect,” he praises. “Love you so much, pretty girl.”

And then the tension snaps, electricity buzzing through your nerve endings, fire prickling your skin as you melt into him. “Love you too, Lo.” Your muscles contract and release, squeezing around him, coming undone.

Your walls clench around him again, and you know it’ll be the thing that pushes him over the edge. “Fuck, wanna come inside you,” he pants.

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. “Please,” you beg, and with one more thrust he’s painting your walls, filling you up and letting go.

You share one breath, panting, foreheads pressed together as Logan’s pumps slow, his cock stalling inside you. His fingers slip away from your clit, his arms reaching under your back as he carefully pulls out. You feel empty without him inside you.

“Y-you can stay inside, if you want,” you offer as Logan rolls you onto your side, pulling you into his chest.

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Is that what you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his lips pressing to your nose now.

“Yes,” you whisper. He swallows harshly as one of his hands slides down your body, hiking your leg up and over his hip. He lines his half-hard cock up with your entrance, his lips finding yours as he slides back in. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of being full of him again.

He groans as he bottoms out. “So fucking good,” he praises, his arms wrapping around your back again, tugging you into his chest.

You lay in comfortable silence, listening as Logan’s breathing becomes rhythmic. Your eyes grow heavy, and you bury your face into Logan’s chest. You can hear his heart beating.

“Love you,” he mumbles against the crown of your head. You can hear the sleepiness in his voice, the exhaustion.

“Love you too,” you whisper, your breathing matching his, like you’re no longer two separate people, but one.

He presses a kiss to your head. “So lucky I met you,” he huffs. You smile against him. “So lucky I finally figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” You ask, looking up at him.

He smiles down at you. “What love is supposed to feel like...” He trails off, and you watch as he chooses his next words. “What living is supposed to feel like.”

You can feel tears brimming in the corners of your eyes, and you do your best to blink them away. “Me too, Lo,” you whisper, pausing…

“Me too.”

tags: @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @fanfic-writing-barbie @pedrohoe04 @cosmiccandydreamer @movhoney @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @maniuplatour *as always, I'm so sorry if I forgot to tag you*

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rainbow-needs-help · 1 year

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i’m actually so proud of myself today i did so many things!! i went to a theme park with my family (one we’ve been going to since i was little) and they have this coaster right by the entrance that i’ve always said “no way in hell” to bc of a massive fear of roller coasters

well i recently started conquering said fear of coasters and i rode it!! twice!! my first ever hanging coaster too i was so proud of myself!!

and then there was another coaster that they built recently, and it starts off with this 150 foot 95 degree drop right into a loop, and it sits at the top of this drop for a sec too just over the edge so it’s freaky as shit. but i did that one twice too!! (the line was nonexistent so they just let us stay on the ride and go again lmao). i straight up shrieked the first time but it was so fun!!

i did chicken out of a different coaster, but when my dad got off he told me i made the right choice and i probably wouldn’t have liked it lmao. but i did. the things!! and i had so much fun!!

#i rode some other stuff too not just those two #like they’ve got this one thing #idek how to describe it #but shit swings around and hangs you upside down for a few seconds #i’m the only one in the family that actually likes that one lmao #and my favorite ride was actually open today!!#it’s like those spinning swing things at boardwalks ya know #except like. 200 feet in the air widbsjbf #it’s so nice tho!! you get a good breeze and a gorgeous view #but they have to close it if it’s too windy out so i’m never sure it’s going till we get there

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parasolemn · 8 months

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[Image description: The first image is a digital painting of Visual Calculus' skill portrait in Disco Elysium. Text reads: "VISUAL CALCULUS - The cold sea breeze stings your face as you step on the boardwalk. The body is gone, but something still lingers in the air. And high above it, against the stars..." End text. The portrait then fades into a dark night sky. The second image continues from the first with the same night sky. Text reads: "VISUAL CALCULUS - A luminous wheel of pleasure and all things bright, its wooden frame creaking in the wind. Twelve red cabins form a circle that stretches from the engines below to the flocks of seagulls up in the sky. INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - The mirage looks both sad and glorious in the mist, like an insect trapped in glass." End text. Green and blue lines from Visual Calculus' portrait twist around an orange, blue and purple projection of a ferris wheel. Behind it, the sun emerges in a bright burst of colour. Harry Du Bois looks up at it, amazed; Kim Kitsuragi looks at him in concern. Text reads: "YOU - 'You don't see it?' KIM KITSURAGI - 'See what?' The lieutenant looks around uncomfortably." End ID]

#disco elysium #parcark art tag #skilltober #skilltober06 #Sorry for doubleposting I just want to get these posted Now before I forget again #Hopefully this image does Not get crunched!!#I said this in the DE server but the second image was done three months ago while the first was done a few days ago #That's why there's a bit of a dissonance between styles #described

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kinascum · 2 months

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MOONLIT - C. STURNIOLO

SUMMARY: Y/N experiences a night of intense passion and dominance with her partner Chris, who pushes her boundaries in a moonlit suite overlooking a bustling boardwalk.

CONTENTS: smut (unprotected piv, degradation, ass slapping, face slapping, humiliation, mean!Chris, head, face fucking, exhibitionism, mocking, dumbification, praise, cum eating, creampie, this matches my freak), water talk? If you're scared of boats and cruises or big bodies of water? I guess?

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

PROOF READ AND REQUEST BY: @baileysturns

You stand at the window of the balcony of the suite Chris got for the both of you as you watch the bustling boardwalk below. The shining moon casts a cool glow over the water, creating a serene backdrop to the chaotic dance of dark colors. Your heart thumps in your chest, a silent drumline to the anticipation building within you.

Suddenly, a hand clamps over your mouth, and a powerful body presses against you from behind. It's Chris, his breath hot and demanding against your ear. "You like the view, ma?" he whispers, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. You nod, your hands and chest pressed flush against the windoI'mand your eyes wide, as he chuckles darkly. "Good, because I'm about to give you a show of your own."

He spins you around, your pulse racing as his eyes bore into yours. His grip on your wrists is firm, guiding you to lean on the glass. Your heart skips a beat as you feel the cool feeling of the night breeze against your stomach. When Chris had said on the way to the pier how he'd have his way with you, you never thought he'd go so far... not that you were complaining though.

"And you're going to be so loud for me, aren't you?" he taunts, his tone a mix of mockery and excitement. You whimper, unable to form words as his free hand roams over your body, gripping your ass with a possessive squeeze. "I can't wait to hear you beg for me," he continues, his breath fanning over your neck.

"You're going to behave, right?" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. He pushes your sundress up, exposing your bare skin to the cool night air. His touch is rough, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "Everyone down there will know I'm fucking my sweet angel stupid." He chuckles, the sound sending a thrill of fear and arousal through you.

The sound of the boardwalk's distant noises mingles with the rush of blood in your ears as you feel his erection pressing against you. He slaps your ass, the sound echoing faintly. "Bet you've lovefucked with an audience before," he says, his voice a sneer. "you're so lucky its late, most of them are back in their rooms"

Without waiting for a response, he rips your panties aside and thrusts into you, the suddenness stealing your breath. You can't grasp, your eyes watering, but he's unforgiving, pumping into you with a ferocity that leaves you trembling. His hand clamps tighter over your mouth, muffling your cries. "That's it," he says, his voice a sinister purr. "Take it all for me"

You can feel every inch of him, his thickness stretching you, filling you completely. His strokes are deep, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure and pain through your body. His other hand is a vice on your hip, guiding your movements, forcing you to take his punishing rhythm. You moan against his palm, the sound strangled and desperate.

"So loud," he says, his voice dripping with amusement. "You want them to hear how you're getting fucked dumb on my cock?" He slaps your ass again, the sound ringing out in the quiet night. "Let them all know how much you love this. Maybe they'll get jealous." His hips slam into you, the force pushing you into the railing. The cold glass bites into your cheek, but you can't help the whimpers that escape.

"Sounds like you're begging," he murmurs, his tone mocking. "Can't even get a sentence out, huh baby?" He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, making you cry out. The sound is muffled by his hand, but he knows you're close.

You push back against him, your body desperately seeking release. Each slap of skin against skin is a symphony of desire and degradation. Your moans grow louder, your body responding to his rough touch despite your mind's protests. He's right; you do love it. The idea of being displayed for all to see, used by him, makes you wetter.

"Look at you," he says, his voice full of disdainful glee. "my dumb little slut" He slaps your ass again, the sting mixing with the pleasure building inside you. "You're doing so good for me, aren't you?"

Your orgasm hits you like a wave, crashing over you and stealing your breath. You moan into his hand, the sound desperate and needy. He laughs, the sound cruel and triumphant. "There you go," he says, his hips moving faster now. "squeezing me so tight baby."

He doesn't stop, even as your body shakes with the aftershocks of pleasure. He continues to fuck you, his hand still over your mouth, his grip on your hip bruising. You know he's getting off on your humiliation, on the power he holds over you in this moment. And as much as you hate to admit it, you're getting off on it too.

The world narrows to the two of you, the sound of your muffled moans and the slap of flesh on flesh. His thrusts grow erratic, his breathing ragged. "I'm going to fill you up," he says, his voice strained. "And you're going to take it."

You can feel him swell inside you, his grip tightening. His movements become frenzied, his mocking tone replaced by grunts of effort. And then, with a final, brutal thrust, he does. You feel the warmth of his release, the proof of his dominance, and a strange sense of satisfaction fills you.

He pulls out, and for a moment, you're left trembling, your body still quivering from the intensity of the experience. He leans in, his breath hot on your neck. "Good girl," he whispers, his voice a dark caress. "You did so well, mama."

The praise sends a shiver down your spine, the sweetness of it a stark contrast to the harshness of his earlier words. He slowly releases your wrists, and you stand there, panting, trying to regain your composure. "Now," he says, his voice low and dangerous, "turn around and look at me."

You obey, your legs shaking as you face him. His eyes are blazing with lust and satisfaction, his smirk wicked. "You liked that, baby?" he asks, and there's no point in lying. You nod, your cheeks flushing with both arousal and embarrassment.

"Good," he says, tucking his now-softening cock back into his pants. "Because we're not done yet." He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "There's so much more I want to do to you, right here, with everyone watching." His eyes gleam with a malicious excitement that sends a shiver down your spine.

He pulls you upright and turns you to face him, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts. His thumbs flick over your nipples, and you can't help but gasp. "Look how pretty you are," he says, his voice a taunt. "They're all watching, aren't they?" He squeezes, his grip tight enough to make you whimper. "I bet they wish they could touch you like whipped."

He kisses you, his mouth harsh and possessive. His tongue invades your mouth, mimicking the way he just invaded your body. You try to push him away, but he's too strong, too overwhelming.

"Is that all you've got?" he asks, his voice mocking. "You're going to have to do better than that if you want me to stop." He releases your breasts and grips your hips, pulling you closer. "Beg for it," he says, his eyes dark. "Beg me to give you a break, and maybe I will."

You moan into his mouth, your body betraying you. You hate how much you want this, how much you crave his touch despite the humiliation. He chuckles, his eyes lighting up at the sound. "That's it," he whispers, his voice a low rumble.

He kisses you again, his hand sliding down to cup your ass. He squeezes, his fingers digging into your flesh. "You're going to scream my name when I make you cum over and over again," he says, his voice a promise. "And they'll all know who you belong to."

He pulls away, leaving you panting and desperate. "Get on your knees," he commands, his voice a whipped crack. You hesitate for a moment, but the look in his eyes tells you there's no room for disobedience. You sink to the ground, your knees hitting the cool floor.

He undoes his pants, his cock springing free. It's already hard again, a testament to his insatiable lust. "Open your mouth," he says, his voice a growl. You do as you're told, and he pushes into you, his hand on the back of your head. "That's right," he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Take it all."

You feel his hand in your hair, guiding your movements, forcing you to take him deeper. You can taste the salt on his skin, the scent of your arousal mingling with the ocean air. His hips rock back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth. "Look at you," he says, his voice filled with disdain. "Sucking me off like a good little slut."

The words make you want to gag, but you can't deny the thrill they send through you. You suck harder, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock. He groans, his grip tightening. "You're going to swallow every drop," he says, his voice a threat. "And you're going to thank me for it."

You feel his hand tighten in your hair, his movements becoming more erratic. "That's it," he says, his voice strained with pleasure. "That's my good little girl." You want to scream at his words, to push him away and reclaim your dignity, but the sound that escapes your mouth is a muffled moan. He chuckles darkly, the vibration of his laughter traveling down his shaft and into your throat. "Look at you," he says, his voice a sneer. "You're loving every second of this, aren't you?"

He pulls out, and before you can protest, he slaps you across the face with his cock. The salty taste of your own arousal mingles with the sting of his slap. "Keep your mouth open," he orders, his voice firm. "You're going to swallow everything I give you."

You whimper, your eyes watering, but you do as you're told. He slides back in, his grip on your hair not relenting. "there you go" he says, his voice a mix of praise and mockery. "Suck me like you mean it." You try to push him away, but his grip is too strong. You can feel the eyes of the unseen crowd on you, watching, judging.

He starts to fuck your mouth in earnest now, his hips pistoning as he uses you for his own pleasure. Your jaw aches, your throat burns, but you can't stop. You're lost in the humiliation, the feeling of being used and enjoyed by him. His grunts grow louder, his breathing more ragged. "You're going to make me cum," he says, his voice filled with disdain. "And when I do, you're going to swallow it all."

As he reaches his climax, you can feel his cock pulse in your mouth. You gag, but he doesn't stop, his hand pushing your head down to ensure you take every drop. He cums, and you do as you're told, swallowing with a sense of defeat. "Look at me," he commands, and you do, tears streaming down your face.

He smirks, a look of pure triumph in his eyes. "Good girl," he says, his voice a mocking praise. "You're learning so quickly." He wipes his cock clean with the back of your hair before zipping up his pants. "Now, let's go back inside," he says, his tone casual. "We've got a whole night ahead of us."

Your knees are weak as you stand, your mouth still open, tasting him. He takes your hand, pulling you to your feet. "You're mine tonight," he says, his voice a low growl. "And everyone on this ship will know it."

The cool night air does nothing to calm the fire in your cheeks as he leads you back into the suite. You can still feel the sting of his hand, the echo of his voice in your mind. But as you look into his eyes, you know that despite the humiliation, despite the pain, you want more. You want to see just how far he'll take you, just how much you can take before you break.

tags! @sturnstvs @gxldenlush @immattsslut @slut4chriss @stasiesturn @jetaimevous @solarsturniolo @watercolorskyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @meowira @secretagentspy @shadowthesim

#paxi talks #paxi's stuff #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris smut

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sweetimpurity · 3 months

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c.w.: very smutty, ice cream and sex

The hot sun beats down on your hometown. It’s finally summer and you’re ready for the beach, freedom and romance. You and Miguel have been together since you were both 15. Growing up together, going to school, falling in love and staying in it until now. 18 years old, the two of you. You can’t wait to spend every day with him this summer, and you really can’t wait for those hot summer nights.

The only thing that gets in the way is summer jobs. If only you two were 10 again and you could spend every minute wasting the day away in the kiddie pool. But now at 18, there are other, better things you two can get up to.

This summer you’re working at your Dad’s store in town and Miguel is logging in his 3rd consecutive year at Sunny Scoops ice cream. A cute little place by the boardwalk with really good waffle cones and the cutest boy in town behind the register!

There, Miguel works all day, sweating and smiling, handing out ice cream to little kids, the elderly, families, anyone who’s having a beach day. And any girls who ask for his number, he just tells them to text you and ask for it. That usually prevents them from ever asking again.

He’s grown muscle over the past three years and ultimately you just had to help him cut the sleeves off his work t-shirt. Complaining about the ‘fit not being right’ on the bigger sizes.

The uniform he used to wear when he was 15 was pretty horrendous. Pink and blue striped and that goofy ice cream cone hat. Then he turned 16… 17… now 18 and wowza. You’ve watched him grow into a man. Now his arms are showing, his muscles from scooping rock solid ice cream all day long. Toned and extra tan from the summer sun. A bandana wrapped messily in his dark curls to keep the sweat off his forehead. Sometimes you’ll sit there with ice cream melting down your hand and between your fingers because you’re just staring at him moving around behind the little counter and through the little shop. Smiling handsomely to customers, his muscles flexing when he’s scooping the frozen treat, catching his eye and his smile when he sees you watching him. Flustered and flushed pink when he comes back over to talk to you, licking the drips off your knuckles.

“Your ice cream is melting, baby…” He would coo. Licking his lips of the sweet chocolate melt. “You’re really hot.” You’d sigh, completely in a daze.

You’re finally done with work now, letting your Dad know you’re leaving for the night. A plan in mind. A need for something sweet. Not just ice cream tonight. Leaving your Dad’s store at 9:30pm and Sunny Scoops closes at 10. You get in your car, letting the summer night breeze blow in through the windows. The cool down finally here as the sun is set. The night is still warm and sticky but not as blazingly hot as before.

…

“Here you go… have a good night.” You hear his voice as you’re walking up to the window. Watching a little boy and his mother walking away happily with huge ice cream cones in hand. And would you look at that… you’re next in line.

“Hey, gorgeous…” He smiles seeing you, leaning his elbows on the counter and watching you approach the window. “Hey!” You chirp, smiling up at him. “Busy day?” You ask, admiring his tip jar full to the brim. “Yeah, busy but good.” He nods, grabbing a waffle cone and moving around behind the counter. You peer over the edge to look inside. Watching him at the soft serve machine. He knows you so well of course. “Chocolate vanilla twist for the pretty lady…” He announces and hands you a tall swirl of ice cream.

“Come around back, I’m just closing up.” He nods and you take your ice cream, moving to the back of the teeny building to the back door. Walking inside. Like you do most days you come to see him. Miguel slides the window closed, locking it and pulling the wooden panel over to block the window. Locking the place up.

You hop up to sit on top of the big box freezer, licking the swirl of ice cream in your hand and watching him move some stuff around and close up.

“You wanna go to the beach tomorrow?” You ask, looking over at him with those eyes that make him weak. His eyes watching your pink tongue lick up your ice cream. “Sure.” He answers just softly. Focusing on doing his job before he loses all control. Not just yet. You smile and kick your legs softly. He walks past with a box, grabbing your ankle as you kick your foot up, giving you a look and letting his fingers run up your calf, bringing a smile to your lips, walking away as he finishes clearing the place up, taking the box to the shelves in the back. Coming back after a minute or two.

“Hey.” He hums, stopping in front of you, a sly sort of smirk on his face. “Hey.” You respond, just as softly, your ice cream only beginning to melt. “You’re so pretty…” He hums as if he hasn’t told you a million times before, making you smile and he steps closer, between your knees. His fingers teasing the sides of your thighs. “Preciosa chica…” He whispers, looking in your eyes and licking the drips off the back of your ice cream cone. Like he always does. Licking all the way to the top of the swirl and then his lips are on yours. His lips moving against yours, his tongue parting your lips. His tongue tasting of chocolate swirl and his lips sugary slippery sweet. His tongue delves into your mouth, his hand going to cup the back of your head, ice cream smashed and mixed between your two tongues. So sweet. Until he’s pulling back, both of you with a slurp.

You giggle softly, feeling sticky sugar all over your lips. “You want more?” You laugh, raising a brow at him and he grins. You tilt the cone towards his lips. “It’s yours, baby… I wanna see you eat it.” He replies.

His hands move up under your shirt, tickling your sides as he pulls you closer, sliding you across the freezer top. You smile, bringing the swirl to your lips and licking the melting ice cream, sucking gently and enjoying it, all while staring in his eyes. His hands move under the fabric, fingers moving up your ribcage, your diaphragm, to your breasts.

“No bra, mami?” He laughs, fingers exploring and kneading the plush of your tits. Staring in your eyes as he does it. “Took it off in the car…” You smile so innocently. He grows harder at the thought. That you took off your bra on the way over here. Like you wanted this to happen, you wanted him. Watching you gasp among the ice cream in your mouth, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples, rolling them gently between his thumb and index fingers. Massaging gently under your shirt. He leans forward, placing three deep kisses to your throat before pulling back again, his fingers grasping the hem of your t-shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He asks and you nod, mouth full of ice cream. He pushes your shirt up and off, the neon lights of the shop reflecting off your skin, off your breasts, making his mouth water. His arm anchors around your lower back, lips latching onto your breast, licking and sucking and squeezing the other in his hand. “Mmm- miguel…” You sigh, sensitized from his caress. He slurps and smooches your soft skin, the naughty noises filling the small space. The hum of the many fridges and freezers a soothing harmony with your soft moans and the sticky sucking of his lips.

He pulls back, kissing you a few times, tasting that sweetness on your lips. Keeping one arm around your back and your eyes widened in surprise watching him dip his fingers into the mountain of ice cream in your hand. Picking up dollaps of cold chocolate swirl on his fingers and smearing it over your nipples. Eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat as he does it. Looking down at your chest. He does the same with both sides. “You like that?” Grinning the whole time, holding you tight as you squirm. Freezing coldness hardening the buds until his warm lips come back down to suck the ice cream off. A shuddering and trembling moan leaving you at the feeling. Your free hand going to his hair, tangling in the dark curls. Pulling the bandana off of his head and watching his summer curls bounce free. “Ohhh- Miguel- '' You moan sweetly and he groans against your chest, your sticky sugary nipples sucked and kissed over and over until it's all gone.

“So sweet baby…” He pants, pulling his shirt off, coming back up to kiss your lips and holding your flushed cheeks in his hands. “Mmm..” You whine, kissing him back hungrily, deeper, your free hand running up his toned abdomen to his chest, a map of his body already ingrained in your brain after all these years, then wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, the ice cream dripping down your knuckles and onto his bare back, making goosebumps on his skin, his big hands running down your back and to your waist. “I don’t have a condom, baby…” He pants against your lips, his fingers in your hair; the words making your tummy flip in butterflies, knowing he wants you; he’s going to be inside. He pulls back for air, desperate to have you as he’s had you many times before.

“I do.” You pant for air, reaching blindly in your back pocket for the one condom you brought. “You really came here just to get fucked, didn’t you?” He laughs and smiles, taking the small foil packet into his sticky fingers. “I came here to see my love…” You hum, tilting your head at him. Not very convincing. His brow cocks in suspicion. “Fine. I came here to get fucked by my love.” You finally admit and the two of you can’t help the giggles.

Outside the small ice cream shop, cars drive by, peepers peep and crickets chirp. The temperatures go down as the night goes on, but inside the little parlor, things are heating up.

“Tell me where baby… tell me…” He whispers in your ear, knuckles deep in your heat and you’re barely able to hang onto him. One hand still occupied by the dripping melting ice cream cone. “Right there! Oh right th-there!” You squeal, his thumb moving expertly on your clit and his fingers flicking and curling deep inside. “Oh my god…” You whine, back arching and leaning back so far you almost fall back off the freezer. “Hey… hey… there you go…” He coos, holding you and helping you lay on your back. Limited on space but you make do. His fingers pumping generously into your needy pussy.

His bottoms are long gone but he takes the condom foil between his teeth, ripping it open carefully. “C’mon baby…” He pants. Taking your free hand and pulling it down to his dick. Guiding you to roll the condom onto his length. Shuddering and groaning feeling the lubed rubber and your soft warm hand pushing it down on him. All while his fingers still curl up against your g spot and you’re on the cusp of coming already. For a few moments, he thrusts into your hand around him. Relishing that pleasure until it’s not enough.

“Ready, sweet girl?” He steps forward, pulling your hips down to meet him at the edge of the freezer. “Mi corazón…” He whispers, a hand running flat over your tummy. “Mmm… yes please…” You whisper. And when he gets that confirmation, there’s no stopping his gummy tip from kissing your clit, pushing through your slick before slipping down and inside. Like the two of you were made for this. He was made to be with you in this way. You were created to be in love.

“Haahh…. Baby…” He sighs and shudders, easing himself in with small pulsing thrusts to stretch you out nicely for him. He doesn’t want to hurt his precious girl. Soon he’s pressed to the hilt and your back is arching from that alone. Your trembling legs latching around his waist as he starts his rhythm. Skin slapping skin in the sickly slip of sticky slick.

Moaning loud and free, the both of you, at the feeling. The feeling of being so full, so filled to the brim. Of love. Of him. The ice cream cone nearly falls out of your hand, your brain unable to think of anything but the pleasure between your legs. One leg wrapped around his hip and the other held in his arm, your knee draped over and his big hand wrapped around your thigh. Keeping you open for him; spread. Pumping into you steady and deep. His heavy eyes watching your face to see how much you love it. His hand on your thigh finds your free hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Panting and focusing. On getting you there. On making you feel the best he possibly can.

You’re delirious, hazy, a mess of moans and a buzzing burning ache for him.

“Baby baby-” He grabs your wrist when the ice cream almost slips entirely, holding your wrist and making it stay upright so he doesn’t have to mop the floors. Smiling when he sees your fucked out face. Easing the cone out of your hand so he can hold it. So that it doesn’t splatter on the floor. Letting your hand fall, fingers gripping and clenching around nothing. His thrusts are so deep, so giving, and he’s hitting every little spot that has you melting.

“That’s it, baby…” He encourages you, trying to bring you that sweet release. “So good Mig…so so sooo…” You whine, on the very edge of bliss. Miguel watches, breathing so fast and heavy. His eyes trail down your face to your soft, marked neck, to your shoulders, your tits, sternum, stomach. Until it’s almost involuntary, he dumps the cold, melting, dripping ice cream cone on your soft tummy. Pulling a high pitched squeal and gasp from your lips, the cold like the spark in a chain reaction, back arching as he drags the freezing smushed chocolate swirl up to your sternum. Your orgasm hits you before another second can think to pass. Your skin shining in melty vanilla and chocolate swirl. The cold making you clench around him.

Screaming in ecstasy and squeezing him so tight he's doubling over and groaning at the pressure. Thrusts become impossible and all he can do is spurt deep and hot. Filling the condom with a groan and feeling you fluttering around him. He licks a stripe up your sternum, slurping ice cream from your skin. Pressing messy kisses to your chest and his face just drips with the melted sugary substance. Drops and dribbles rolling down your sides as you gush on his dick. Trembling, shaking, coming down from what might be the strongest climax you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh baby… hah… that was amazing…” He pants, his voice wavering, leaning over you, kissing your cheeks, your neck, your lips. “I love, love you… hah…” He huffs, looking over your face to make sure you’re okay. “Mmm… I love you” You sigh, a blissed out smile on your face. He smiles seeing you’re happy and you’re feeling good; because that’s all he’s ever wanted. And all he’ll ever want.

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i-heart-slashers · 5 months

Text

Get Your Girl

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Paul x female!reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | They thought it was just another night on the boardwalk until Paul catches a scent that will change his afterlife forever.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1 k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of weed

Santa Carla is a place where the night holds secrets darker than the shadows themselves. The boardwalk gleams under the moonlight, a shimmering array of colors and sounds that lulled both humans and vampires alike.

Those said vampires prowled the night with their senses keen and alert as always as they sought out their next bit of entertainment... or meal. They roamed the boardwalk at night, their shadows blending seamlessly with the darkness, their whispers carrying secrets of centuries past.

On one such night, Paul found himself trailing behind David and the others. The air was thick with anticipation, charged with something new—maybe it was that new strain of weed he'd smoked after they'd woken up.

He could feel the energy tingling on his skin, urging him forward.

That's when he caught a whiff of something intoxicating, a scent that pulled at the primal instincts buried deep within him. This aroma called out to him like a siren's song.

He glanced at David, whose eyes gleamed with a knowing glint. "Follow your nose, Paul," David murmured, his voice low and commanding.

And so, Paul did.

He wasn't the best tracker in the group, but he let the tantalizing scent guide him through the mass of people on the boardwalk. Neon lights cast a kaleidoscope of colors on the area, and the air was alive with laughter and music, mingling with the salty tang of the ocean.

With his senses attuned to the mysterious scent that beckoned him, he walked, Marko and Dwayne, flanking him, trying to keep his focal point on that scent. David followed behind as he watched the usually wild vampire, keeping an unusually calm focus.

As Paul ambled along, the intoxicating scent thickened and danced upon the breeze, weaving its way into his senses with a seductive allure. It was unlike anything he had ever encountered, a symphony of sweetness and floral notes that set his veins on fire.

He followed the scent like a moth drawn to flame until he stood before a group of girls, their laughter ringing like chimes in the night.

Without thinking, Paul leaned closer, his nose brushing against the hair of one of the girls. He inhaled deeply, his senses drowning in her scent, which enveloped him like a warm embrace, flooding his senses with a dizzying rush of desire.

He closed his eyes, savoring the moment, pushing his nose further into her hair, and realized with a jolt of recognition that this was the scent he had been searching for, the one whose scent had called out to him across the night.

Feeling someone touching your hair, you turned around, your eyes wide with surprise, as you caught sight of a guy sniffing you. He was a tall blond with wild hair, but an expression of pure pleasure lit up his handsome features.

Paul could see the confusion flickering in your gaze, the wariness that danced on the edge of your expression. And yet, there was something else there, too, something he couldn't quite name.

You lifted a hand to your hair, your fingers brushing against the spot where he had pressed his nose. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, just gazing at the other.

For a fleeting instant, time stood still. In that moment, Paul saw eternity reflected in the depths of your gaze, a universe of possibilities unfolding before him. But before he could speak, a playful smile danced upon your lips.

Eyes sparkling with mischief, you leaned in to press your nose in his hair and inhale his scent, your expression softening with amusement. "You smell like weed," You remarked with a playful giggle. Your words laced with an enchanting charm that ensnared Paul's senses even further.

Paul blinked, taken aback by your words. He had expected fear, revulsion even, but instead, there was only curiosity. He found himself smiling in response, a warmth spreading through him at the sound of your laughter.

"Can I have some?" You say playfully as Paul takes the joint he had placed behind his ear, the one he had rolled in for himself in excitement for a late-night smoke, and held out to you wordlessly.

Taking the offered joint, you gave him a surprise laugh as you held it. You thanked him with a sweet smile that he hoped he'd see more of, and he moved to speak.

Before he could say anything, however, your friends appeared at your side, tugging you away with a knowing grin. Paul watched them tug you away, his heart heavy with longing.

He knew then, with a certainty that bordered on instinct, that he had found his mate.

With a parting glance, you offered him a smile that ignited something deep within his soul, a spark of recognition that left him breathless in its wake. As you disappeared into the crowd, Paul stood rooted to the spot, his mind awash with a whirlwind of emotions.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and Paul turned to see Dwayne standing beside him. There was a gleam in Dwayne's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between Paul and you just now went beyond human recognition.

"She was something, isn't she?" Dwayne said, his voice low and amused as Marko and David both realized who you were— it looks like they'll be gaining a sister soon.

Paul nodded, unable to tear his gaze away from the spot where you had vanished into the night as his dead heart began to ache, wanting to rush after you. "She's everything," he whispered, his voice barely a breath against the ocean's roar.

Marko bounces as he grins, a flash of his teeth glinting in the moonlight as he throws his arm around Paul with an excitable aura. "Well then," he said, shaking Paul as Dwayne and David sighed at their 'terror twins.' "It looks like we've got ourselves a mission. Let's go get your girl."

#the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #horror slashers #slashers #horror #tlb #paul lost boys #the lost boys imagine #tlb imagine #x reader #reader insert #the lost boys paul #female insert #vampire mates #vampire lover

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kisseobie · 6 months

Text

jasmine

pairing: non idol jongseob x fem!reader

genre: fluff

a saccharine summer evening spent at your favorite nail parlor is so much sweeter when you’re accompanied by a boy made out of star-shaped tangerines 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

tags: established relationship, reader is slightly anxious, the sweetest boyfie seob, reader is sooo girly, slightly suggestive if you squint, jongseob thinks ur the prettiest girl in the world, usage of petnames (baby, princess, etc..), yall are so in love it’s sick, no smut in this but mdni pls

a/n: haiii everyone ^_^ so i haven’t written self inserts in years but i desperately crave more jongseob fics (as u can see from my last post lol) sooooo here i am!! this is very self indulgent but if i like how this goes i mighttttt start taking piwon requests :p please be kind as i haven’t written in a veryyyy long time… anyways enjoy 𓇼⋆｡˚

listening to: jasmine - dpr live ♪

“they have to soak off my previous set before they get started so you really don’t have to stay with me here if you don’t want to seob.. it’s gonna be 2 hours at least.”

you shyly inform him as you begin to retrieve your phone from your back pocket to search for your appointment confirmation email as the pair of you come to a gentle halt in front of the entrance of your favorite nail salon. you pause before entering, turning to face towards him as the salty breeze of the nearby boardwalk cards through jongseob’s copper colored hair, a sight that makes you swoon. “you sure you won’t be bored?” you ask shyly, and jongseob gives you a toothy grin in return, eyes crinkling softly as he tilts his head towards the sliding doors of the salon, a sweet and silent reply to your hesitance that speaks, “i’m never bored when i’m with you”. he slowly lifts his hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and kisses your cheek, all whilst interlacing his fingers with your slightly smaller ones as you both make your way into the salon.

you somehow find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

it’s been just short of a year since kim jongseob first approached you, fidgeting with the fabric of his favorite hoodie and swaying back and forth on his heels to ease his nerves as he asked you for your number. the sweet boy expected for you to kindly let him down (partly because you had never spoken to him a day in your life, and partly because of the gorillaz logo on his apparel), but to his astonishment, you simply punched your number into his keypad, and one text reading: “hi :)” led to a plethora of late night conversations, hushed giggles shared in his bedroom, and coffee flavored kisses in the mornings (much to his roomates’ dismay).

he’s wearing that same hoodie this evening too.

the domesticity of your blooming relationship is new, but never unwelcome, so it didn’t surprise you when he asked to accompany you when you were cuddled up with him a few nights ago, haphazardly mentioning that you were planning to get a new set of acrylics soon. seob had been paying for your previous sets despite your constant disapproval, but this was his first time going with you to a booking, and it felt oddly intimate, like you were starting to enter a more serious stage of your relationship.

jongseob’s reassurance allows you to let go of your irrational fear of him dying of boredom during your appointment, and with that, you two carry onto your seven o’clock session.

“girl, that’s your man? that’s the one you were telling me about?”

are the first words that leave your nail tech’s lips as as you settle down into her usual station, setting your purse to the side, straightening your jean skirt, and adjusting your bra strap as you question the surprise written all over her face. you had spent countless of sessions with her discussing your relationship with jongseob, her even being there for the details of your distant crush on him prior to you being asked out. always the persistent type, she had been practically begging for you to bring him around these last few appointments, mentioning something about “taking a good look” at the boy who had swiftly stolen your heart.

your tech must have noticed the slight blush of embarrassment appearing on your cheeks, because she jumped to clarifying her previous statement with, “i don’t mean that in a bad way babe! he’s definitely very attractive, i was just surprised you were so shy in approaching him is all.” at these words you tilted your head a bit, only more confused about the implications of what she was attempting to tell you.

“y/n, he was staring at you the entire time you were checking in like he’d hang the stars and moon for you if you’d ask. he had that dopey lovesick look and everything. he’s obviously smitten, you have literally nothing to worry about.” she relays to you with amusement as she dips your fingertips in acetone.

you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in and quietly giggle. “really? okay i’m really glad you said that, he’s been so sweet to pay for all of my sets without me even asking him to and i was just so worried that he’d hate me forever if he got bored sitting here. i think i’m just not used to doing simple chores with him rather than elaborately planned dates” you whisper to her. you then take a peek at your boyfriend’s comfortable form lounging on one of the hot pink seats of the salon, his nintendo switch clad in one hand, and his cheek pressing against the other. you notice he only has his left airpod in, just in case you needed to call for him. your heart melts at the sight, and you finally turn your full attention back to your tech, now removing your old set of nails.

as you wait patiently in your chair you begin to lightly sway your head to the song playing on a distant salon speaker, one that your boyfriend coincidentally has on repeat each time your with him nowadays. “it’s called jasmine, it reminds me of you.” is what you remember him telling you one morning, when you woke up for the first time in his bed, wired headphones connecting you both as the dpr live track overtook the cozy atmosphere.

every now and then you and seob glance at each other from across the salon, to which you both begin breaking out into big smiles and rosy cheeks. your nail technician carries on with replicating the reference nails you showed her to a T, but not without silently noting the heart eyes you and jongseob shoot at each other everytime your eyes happen to lock. this time, he mischievously motions for you to glance at your phone, a quiet “ding!” from your cell grasping both you and your tech’s attention.

[seobie ᥫ᭡]: you look so pretty right now baby, i’m so excited to feel your nails in my hair later lol

[seobie ᥫ᭡]: and maybe scratching my back too ;)

[seobie ᥫ᭡]: omg that was so embarrassing im so sorry please look away plead im so bad at this fuck

you look away from your screen embarrassingly fast, flustered and avoiding any eye contact with both your loser boyfriend (who is wallowing in his own embarrassment) and the woman now raising her eyebrows in front of you as she waits for your nails to cure under the uv lamp.

she is so making fun of you for that next time.

“andddd we’re done! just go wash your hands and your boyfriend can pay at the desk. he looks like he’s gonna flip if he isn’t holding you in some way in the next two minutes and i really don’t need to witness that.” she exclaims, not without exaggeratedly rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

you begin to fully assess your fresh new set of acrylics, now topped off with a sparkly clear coat. your nail tech even added some oil to your cuticles to try and make up for months of self-inflicted damage. after a minute of observing, you hum in approval, deducing happily that your boyfriend is going to love the colors you chose: tangerine with hints of cherry red to subtly match with his hair.

“perfect, just like always. thank you so much!” you say while handing her a generous tip, to which she holds out her hand in refusal and shakes her head. “no tip today, just go spend some time with him, i’m so happy for you y/n, seriously.” she replies kindly. you give her a hug to say thanks and tuck the cash back into your purse, turning and making your way towards the chair your boyfriend is currently occupying as he watches you with a warm smile, hands crossed in front of his chest as he holds back a laugh.

“what’s so funny?” you question as you approach him slowly.

“i called her beforehand and sent her a tip for you, i knew you were gonna try to pay somehow.” he giggles as he stands up. you scoff, but deep down you know you should have known he would outsmart you like this.

“i can’t believe you! i’ve told you a hundred times before that i don’t want you to spend your money on me!” you try to reason with him, to which he cuts your frustration off with a simple “who’s going to take care of you then, princess? now show me your nails!” he says as he hovers his hands in front of him, a signal for you to follow suit so he can observe the result of the previous two hours of work.

you decide to drop the subject for now and let excitement take over once again at his request, bouncing up and down whilst placing your hands atop of his palms, not allowing him to speak before you explain that “they match your hair, see? i asked her to do orange and red ombre!! and i know you love stars so i also asked her to add little golden star studs on my pinky nails! what do you think babe?” you half squeal out at him, clearly awaiting his approval.

“you did this for me?” he asks.

you deflate a little, dreading the small chance that your next words will result in an underwhleming reaction from him. “well yeah, sorry if it’s weird, i just wanted to do something nice since you offered to accompany me even though you would just be sitting in your chair for two hou—” he cuts off your anxious rambling with a strong kiss to your lips, followed by both of his palms covering the sides of your face to pull you impossibly closer. you gasp from the sudden movement, and just as you close your eyes to reciprocate, your boyfriend pulls back to show you the prettiest smile you have ever seen on his face.

“i guess you like them.” you sheepishly respond, holding back a smile equally as large.

he just replies by peppering your tanned skin with tangerine flavored kisses, each peck accompanied with the words “i love you, i love you so much”.

you and jongseob finally step out of the salon hand in hand, the cool air blowing onto your faces as you squeeze your interlocked fingers. jongseob presses on the pedestrian call button with one hand as you both anticipate the streetlamp to shift to green. you fill the comfortable silence with giggles and the occasional kiss to the cheek the entire commute to the subway, uncaring of prolonged glances from onlookers. words are only spoken an hour later when you’ve finally enter the warmth of his (and practically your) bedroom. jongseob turns towards you this time, clearly not as timid as he was hours before, smirking while pronouncing,

“in case you were still wondering, that offer from my text earlier still stands…”

it’s your turn to roll your eyes and shut him up, tugging him roughly towards you with the front of his stupid hoodie as your mouths connect with an urgency you’ve never felt before, the pair of you hurriedly falling on top of his bed as your nails make contact with his scalp.

𓇼⋆｡˚

in the quiet of the night, considered by some as early hours of the morning, jongseob holds your bare frame tightly against his own as he strokes his hand along your freckled back. your warm breaths tuck into the small crevices of his chest as your tangerine tinted nails draw hearts lightly into his skin, and with that, the two of you gradually lull into a peaceful slumber, but not before you look up at him and whisper,

“i did it for you.”

a/n: mwahahahahahahahaha it’s finally out.. thank u for being patient!! it was honestly so motivating to see that despite the fact that so many people had never read my writing before, their love for jongseob made them crave this fic soooo much LMFAOO we all are so down bad for this man it’s a bit insane. anyways like i said i haven’t written for years so this was short and a little choppy but i tried my best and hopefully i’ll get better with time ^_^ anyways i’ll be finishing up my next fic soon and then i’ll start working on requests!! thank u for reading, it means a lot to me <3

please do not repost my writing!

tags:

@chuuswifereal @angelcbf @lakoya @zendieya-8 @bambispostsblog @saturnh0ney @theyluvsosa @youresolivlie @woozixo @www90kitsch @sirenla @ihatewreckingballmains @curiousgworge @haileyyey @khfviq @highkeyadumbasslmao @lovebunnys-world @astro-doll-the-star @kyokopi @meowmeowjang @imma-penguin1 @sophia-is-tiny

ᥫ᭡

#jongseob #jongseob x reader #p1h #p1h jongseob #p1harmony #kpop writers #p1harmony x reader #kim jongseob #piwon #p1harmony scenarios #p1harmony drabbles

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heirofnight · 26 days

Text

blueberry scones & lemon squares

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: azriel spends his morning reflecting on various places he's lived throughout his lifetime. his thoughts quickly reroute back to you, his true home, and he reminisces on how you both met.

a/n: another drabble / stream of consciousness that took on a mind of its own. i really enjoy these! i only skimmed over this once, so it's lightly edited. sorry for any other mistakes i may have missed. this one made my chest hurt though - in a good way.

home.

az had resided many places during the course of his lifetime. but, as the years progressed, he'd come to realize that home was not solely determined by a physical structure with four walls - not just a place to lay his head and wings after a long, grueling day, or after returning from missions with bloodied hands and a dagger in need of sharpening. no, azriel's true home was always marked by wherever his brothers were. and now, wherever you were too.

the house of wind. another home of his.

azriel stood atop the balcony connected to his chambers. it was early dawn, the sun just beginning to rise into the morning sky. misty clouds carried on a breeze idled by, so close, az truly thought he could reach out and grab a piece of one for himself. if he squinted hard enough, really focused, he could make out the city of velaris and the sidra river, glowing like melted sapphire, far below him. could see the smoke of chimneys rising to meet the clouds as the city and its patrons began stirring for the day.

he stretched his large, membranous wings outward, letting the sunlight bathe them in warmth. his breath escaped him as visible white puffs, the autumn chill inescapable at the high altitude.

az regarded himself as a self-reflective male. his mind never stopped, and unfortunately, he was not ever able to fully escape it. this morning, he lazily cycled through thoughts regarding the places he'd called home. his early childhood, with his father and step-mother. never a home, he'd thought, leaving that memory behind as swiftly as it'd presented itself. windhaven, where he'd been dumped at eleven years old. his lips quirked up as he recounted his first memories of cassian and rhysand. the way in which they'd quickly become brothers. rhys' mother taking him in - the cabin where so many memories were made. a home.

he took flight now, shooting directly into the blazing sky. puffs of clouds caressed his arms and wings as he ascended right through them, a tickling sensation that he'd never tire of. now, he thought of you as he inhaled deep breaths of fresh, crisp morning air.

the way you both met. your father owned a bookstore right in the middle of the rainbow in velaris. an older business that was well-known and well-loved within the city. it had been destroyed during hybern's attack, and when it was rebuilt - a task that you'd had to heavily convince your aging father of - you'd added on a bakery to the renovated structure. one half was now a quaint pastry kitchen, designed with small café tables that extended onto the boardwalk overlooking the sidra, swirling gold motifs atop white marble, and glass display cases full of baked goods that you'd hand-make each morning. the other half was reminiscent of your father's original bookstore, and while he was still involved, you'd opted to largely take over the business so that he could rest and enjoy the fruits of his labor from afar. this was the first storefront of its kind in velaris, and everyone was smitten. including feyre and nesta.

feyre was absolutely infatuated with your glazed blueberry scones. on several occasions, you'd arrived at the bakery hours before opening to fulfill large-batch orders of them for various events that she'd ask you to cater throughout the city.

nesta, on the other hand, adored the attached bookstore. several times a week, she'd meander through shelves of first edition texts while feyre and rhysand browsed your daily selection of baked goods. nesta would always purchase stacks of books, as many as she could bare to hold within her arms. sometimes, if the group would opt to hang around for breakfast, you'd catch her flipping through her recent purchase, carefully cradling a scone in her other hand.

feyre had given az the task of picking up another large order from your bakery the day that you both met for the first time. azriel began to recall that day as he flew higher into the skies, his heart swelling at the memory.

"six boxes of glazed blueberry scones," his high lady had told him. "and if she has any fresh lemon squares, please pick one up for rhys. he becomes an insufferable baby whenever i return without anything for him." az had huffed out a laugh in response, nodding once to affirm he'd handle the task presented.

he made his way down the boardwalk to the front of your shop, making a mental note of how nicely the renovations had come along since that awful attack on the city. pushing the door open, a small bell tinkled above the doorway that his tall frame had to slightly crouch through. you'd appeared from the back almost immediately, flour dusted along your nose. you wiped your hands on a small towel, looking up at him to offer this beaming smile. a smile that he remembered, even now, being absolutely winded by. "hi!," you'd greeted happily. "you're here for feyre's order, right?," you'd moved towards a nicely-wrapped stack of six pastry boxes, sliding them along the counter for him to grab.

he briefly remembered reminding himself that he was meant to actually move forward. 'grab the boxes, grab the lemon square, and leave,' he thought to himself, feeling absolutely ridiculous for floundering in the presence of such a warm, pleasant female. he'd nodded towards you, approaching the counter. he'd had to tuck his wings in tight against him to comfortably fit within the spread of café tables. once reaching you, he'd cleared his throat before speaking.

"a lemon square too, please, if you have one," his voice steady despite the way his chest felt. you let out a precious, tinkling laugh. "ah, must be for the high lord. feyre's told me of his outbursts if she forgets to include them in her orders.", you shook your head affectionately, clearly quite fond of his family. he huffed out a quiet laugh, perusing over the rest of the goods within your pastry case as you packaged up rhys' lemon square.

he wasn't sure back then what compelled him to utter his next words, although now, years later, he knew. you were magnetic, and he would have done anything to see that beaming smile again and again and again. which is why he proceeded to point at the pastry case and ask for one of everything else within it.

you'd paused, eyes widening slightly at the request. "also for the high lord?," you'd breathed out, purely stunned. the corners of his lips had quirked upward then, your adorable expression hitting him right in the chest. "no, for me.", he'd stated matter-of-factly. you'd graced him then with one of those face-splitting smiles, dimples sweeping across your cheeks in its wake. he was a goner then, and he knew it.

after carefully packing up the rest of his order - which was now so large, he had no idea how he'd manage to fly back up to the house of wind cradling all of these boxes - you'd slid them across the counter to him.

he'd reached out to grab them, and that's when you took note of his beautiful, scarred hands. your gaze snagged on them, and he noticed immediately. his heart sank, a breath lodged in his throat. surely, he thought, this was the swift and brutal end to something that could have been between the both of you.

instead, you hummed quietly, unabashedly meeting his gaze. your next words came out quietly, almost a whisper - a hint of awe woven into the statement that azriel would absolutely never forget in this lifetime or the next: "you must be very brave."

no, it was then that azriel knew he was a goner. and that was it. he'd vowed at that very moment to do whatever he had to do in order to know you, love you. and you had made it so easy for him to do so.

azriel smiled at the memory, smiled at the fact that while he'd spent his morning reflecting on places that he had lived and called home throughout his lifetime, that you had flooded his mind - guided him back to all thoughts of you.

of course you had. you were his home, after all. a living, breathing representation of love so pure. he'd never once questioned it, he'd never felt something so sure. your love had healed him of so many things, things that you weren't even aware of.

and he knew, that if love were enough, all of his physical scars would be washed away too.

a/n: hi thank u for reading! honestly no idea what this is or where it came from, but i do know that i'm PMSing and writing it almost made me cry lmao. i'm such a sucker. anyway pls let me know if you enjoyed this drabble!

#acotar #azriel #batboys #azriel fic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar

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asharasasylum · 14 days

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Pretty Baby I ♡ Rafe Cameron x Step/Adopted!Sister Reader

author's note: I needed to publish something and I found this saved in my drafts. It’s in 2 parts. (Part 2 in now here) It’s not really edited either and not amazing so I’m sorry about that. I do want to say the main character is inspired by Nicola Peltz character in backroads. Please really read the warnings with this one. warnings: Dark. Abuse. Violence. Child Abuse. Parental abuse. Angst. Trauma responses. Obsession from both ends. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Toxic relationship!! Aged up characters. Step-cest. Eventual Smut. Eventual character death. 18+ MDNI

He's your saviour, your knight in shining armour but he can also be your own worst enemy.

It was your tenth birthday when your father was finally arrested.

While he deserved it, truly deserved it, you didn’t care.

All you could do was cry as you sat at the back of Peterkin’s car, babbling about how you just wanted to see your daddy.

It must have been a few hours later, time rolling into the late hours of the night and you were still with Peterkin. Only you had found yourself in the police station, tear stained face as you bit at the nail of your thumb.

“Y/N.”

You turned to look up at Peterkin to find her standing beside a man you didn’t recognise.

“This is Ward Cameron,” Peterkin introduced you, with a small smile.

The man tried to give you a smile but his face dropped as soon as he took you in. You hadn’t realised how bad your appearance was then, the purple marks that covered your skin were a normality you were accustomed to.

Peterkin took Ward a few steps from you, somewhere they thought you couldn’t hear.

“Did he- Did he do that to her?” Ward questioned.

Peterkin just nodded.

“But he’s her father,” Ward was in clear disbelief as he spoke, pointing at you.

“And now she has no one.”

That’s all Ward apparently needed to hear, throwing his jacket over your shoulders as he directed you to his car.

He tried to make light conversation in the car, bringing up things he thought you might like, only to find him stumbling on his words each time you said you didn’t know what he was talking about. But he never stopped trying, and you think you were glad for that.

It was the next day that you met everyone, all of them welcoming you with open arms, excluding Rafe.

He had glared at you, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. It was almost as if he was waiting for the opportunity to crack your school open on the wall behind you. He just needed you to give him reason enough to do so.

You didn’t know when he stopped looking at you like that but eventually a few years down the line you and Rafe were more akin than you had ever believed possible. Even if there was still that anger that bubbled underneath Rafe’s skin when he looked at you, a tinge of coldness behind those eyes.

You were fifteen when Rafe saved you and at that age you still seemed to hate each other more than ever.

“I can’t believe you’re forcing me to come to the wreck with you and your stupid friends,” you huffed, leaning against the car window.

“Dad said I need to look after you while they’re out for a few days,” Rafe argued back, yanking your arm off of his window. “You’re going to get marks over my car.”

You rolled your eyes at him, settling for resting your arms in your lap. “I’m sure he just meant to watch out for me, not drag me to everything you’re doing.”

“It’s food at the wreck. I’m sure you’ll cope.”

You didn’t know who you hated more at times, Rafe or his friends. The arrogance that radiated off of them at all times made you want to vomit in your mouth. You never understood why they bothered to come to this side of the island if all they wanted to do was sit and make jokes about the people that lived here.

It was within ten minutes that you found yourself outside, walking along the boardwalk. The gentle North Carolina breeze brushed against your skin as you stared out into the bay. It was quiet, too cool outside for people to be lingering.

That’s what you had thought until a familiar voice was calling your name.

“Y/N… it’s you, isn’t it?”

Your stomach dropped and as if your body was working on autopilot, you froze to the spot.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Precautions had been put in place to stop this from happening, restraining orders filed and prison walls to keep him locked up and away from you. Wherever Ward had needed to do, he had made sure to do it.

But clearly it hadn’t been enough as your dad stood a few feet away from you, inching close every second.

“Baby, I’ve missed you so much,” he said, hands reaching out for you.

He looked the exact same, the blackness around his eyes from years of addiction and the cracked lips. He sounded the same too.

And when he took a step forward, you were ten years old all over again.

“You can’t be here,” you finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper.

“I-I had to s-see you,” he stuttered, hand reaching forward as he got closer.

Only now you were finally walking back.

“Baby. It’s me.”

“You can’t be near me,” you spoke louder this time, trying to put space between the pair of you.

But your dad was faster and without warning his hand latched around your neck, yanking your body towards him.

“Dad, please,” you pleaded, eyes wide as you tried to pry his hands from your throat.

“It was you that put that order against me,” he spat, grip tightening. “I knew it was you.”

He was shaking, veins popping out the side of his head. You knew the look, it was the first thing you saw when you closed your eyes at night. But it changed slightly, he had never been this enraged before. It was like he wanted to kill you, like taking his temper out on you for years wasn’t enough.

“It was you that called the police that day, wasn’t it?”

You shook your head, a sob caught at the back of your throat as you told him, “No, I swear.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I swear it wasn’t me.”

“I did five fucking years in that prison because of you.”

His grip was bruising and you weren’t sure if the fact you couldn’t breathe was because of his hands on your neck or because you were choking on your own sobs.

Your ears were ringing so loud that you didn’t hear Rafe running over to you. But you saw him when his fist flew into your father’s cheek and you watched as his foot slammed into your father’s body over and over again.

“Don’t you ever touch her,” Rafe screamed into the man’s face, dropping to his knees as he drove his fist into your father’s face.

Kelce and Topper eventually pried Rafe off of your father, realising that he probably wasn’t going to stop until he killed him.

You were surprised he wasn’t already dead yet, his lifeless body covered in blood and bruises as he wheezed out a breath.

Rafe was quick to cover your view, grabbing your face in his battered hands as he held you.

“Are you okay?” Rafe questioned, eyes staring into yours.

You were crying, you hadn’t realised how badly until Rafe touched your soaked cheeks.

“Why didn’t you scream for me?” His voice was panicked, blue eyes running over you to check you were okay.

“I’m sorry,” you broke into a fit of sobs, unsure of what else to say.

Rafe pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly as he wrapped his arms around yours. “You don’t need to apologise. You haven’t done anything wrong, Y/N.”

Rafe didn’t leave you alone that night and you were grateful for that. It must have been hours before you calmed down, sobs turning into sniffles as Rafe consoled you. But eventually it happened.

“No ones ever done something like that for me,” you told Rafe, eyes finally peering up at him through wet lashes.

“I care about you,” Rafe’s voice was gentle as he spoke, a sincerity to it that you had never heard before. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

You chuckled then, you hadn’t meant to because what you were thinking wasn’t really funny but you had.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I thought you hated me,” you confessed.

“I don’t hate you.” his lips lifted into a smile then. “I guess I haven’t always been the best brother.”

“That’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. You deserve better.”

There was a sort of silence that fell over the pair of you then. One you were eager to fill, unsure how to process Rafe’s words.

“Can I stay here tonight?” You asked.

“Of course.”

It was Rafe’s gentle breaths that eased you into a sleep that night, face buried into his chest as he continued to hold you.

That was the first night of many.

Everytime you found yourself awoken to your own gasps of breath, it was Rafe who you sought after for comfort. You’d always be knocking on his door at odd times in the night, wet round eyes looking up at him, pleading for entrance that he was so willing to give.

It was Ward that had to intervene, finding you in Rafe’s bed one morning.

Then sleepovers with Rafe were switched for therapy sessions and while you were desperate to get them back, you knew that going against Ward wasn’t something either of you really wanted to do.

So you didn’t even though you always really wanted to.

From then on it was a thin line that you and Rafe tread along.

One that was quickly blurring with each word that slipped past his lips.

“It’s fucking disgusting, do you know that?” Rafe spat, storming away with your phone in his hand. “Fucking throwing yourself at my friends like a slut.”

“He gave me his number. Not the other way round,” you shouted at him, chasing him through the greenery.

All of Rafe’s friends were staring at you, used to the constant arguments between you and your older brother by now. But luckily you had put some space between you and them, the words that were threatening to spill from your mouth you didn’t want them to hear.

“And you were lapping every single bit of it up,” he shouted, facing you now.

“Is that so wrong?” You asked, throwing your hands up in frustration. “I think you seem to forget that my dating life has literally nothing to do with you.”

You could feel the anger pouring off him, nose flared and eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to you. “It’s hard not to make it my business when you embarrass me in front of all my friends.”

“Fuck you, Rafe.” You hit your hands on his chest in a pathetic hope it would hurt him.

He seized your arm, yanking your body towards his.

“I hate you,” you swore, wishing the words into existence. Even though you knew they’d never come true.

Rafe saw right through you, shaking his head as he laughed. “You hate me?”

“I fucking hate you, Rafe. You’re awful.”

“I guess you won’t mind if I do this then.”

Within a second your phone was smashed to the ground, his foot following it.

You screamed at him as he did it, fists flying at him as you kept repeating that you hated him. It’s like he didn’t even hear you, didn’t even feel you as he continued to break your phone into pieces on the ground.

“You’re a fucking psycho,” you hissed.

He turned to you, eyes clouded with a darkness that almost frightened you. Almost.

When his hand reached to touch you, you slapped it away.

“Let’s go,” he demanded, stepping over your phone as he walked to the direction of the car park.

With a tearful gaze you followed him, not even bothering to pick up your shattered phone on the way.

There was no use fighting him, not when he was like this. It’s not like you wanted to argue against him, not here anyway. There were things you were itching to say. Things that couldn’t be said in front of the likes of the people here. In front of anyone really.

When he shoved you into the car, those feelings bubbled up into your chest, hard to ignore when his fingers touched your skin. They dragged along the column of your chest, eyes following them as they trailed upwards, reaching to grip around your throat.

“Do you like embarrassing me?” He said, voice low as it cut through you.

“Do you like hurting me?” You retorted back.

He shook his head, kissing his teeth. “Don’t…”

He bit down on his words, hand dropping as he turned away from you.

But you knew exactly what he was going to say.

Because you were thinking it.

Rafe had been walking on eggshells around the house all evening with you. He lurked behind corners when you were around, clearly waiting for the right moment to talk to you.

It wasn’t till you were fighting with your late night thoughts, making your way down to the kitchen for a moment of peace, that he found you.

You felt him before you heard him, feeling his body slowly gravitating towards you.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No,” you were cold as you answered him.

“You’re still mad at me,” he stated.

You twisted around to look at him in the darkness of the kitchen, wanting to glare at him, to cuss him out but you struggled to find the energy to even do so.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

But he didn’t need to apologise, his words barely touching your ears when his scent was crowding your senses.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe shook his head, age turning away from you. “Stop.”

“I don’t mean to,” you croaked, unable to take your wet gaze away from his face.

He sighed, rubbing his jaw with his thumb as if taking a second to contemplate something. All it took was another look at you and it was as if his decision had already been made.

“Dad’s gone for the weekend,” he told you, eyes finally lifting up to yours. “He won't be back till Monday.”

He didn’t need to ask, you both knew what he was saying and you both knew what your answer would be. You’d never said no to Rafe before. Why would tonight be any different?

You always took the left side of Rafe’s bed. It was the closest to the door, easiest to get to in ungodly hours when you needed him. He was always accommodating, leaving the space for you free even after months of you not being there. It was second nature for both of you at this point, even when you didn’t want it to be.

There was something oddly comforting about it. The fact that Rafe after months still slept on the same side of the bed as if he was always waiting for you to take the other side.

For years it had always just felt like a delusional fantasy. But in the last few months, especially with the way Rafe had been acting, you felt your mind starting to believe that the feelings you had could possibly be shared.

It's all you could think about as you stared into his eyes, his fingers playing with yours. It’s all you thought about.

“Rafe,” you whispered.

He hummed in acknowledgment, fingers sliding under the bottom of your top as he rubbed your sides.

You couldn’t help but sigh at the subtle touch, stirring a heat inside you that was hard to ignore.

“What is it?” He asked.

“You know,” You swallowed, struggling to get the right words out.

There were so many things to say but how were you even supposed to say them?

Rafe closed his eyes, hand tightening around your hip as he gripped onto it. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, it was more of a gentle squeeze, something you mistook as reassurance.

It was hard not to lean into him, brushing your nose against his. Everything about it felt right, even if it was entirely wrong.

“Rafe,” you breathed, your words touching his lips.

His hand retracted from you and suddenly his words were saying things you didn’t want to hear. Things you hadn’t expected to hear.

“Don’t,” it was quiet, hardly above a whisper as it left his lips.

“What?” You were taken back entirely.

“You can’t stay in here if you’re going to kiss me,” he answered through clenched teeth.

“Right.”

But nothing about this felt right as you retreated from him.

Had you completely misread all the signs? Had you really been feeding so much into your delusional fantasies that actually believed they could come true?

His hand being snatched was like a final cord that snapped in you and just couldn’t hold back anymore.

“So you don’t want me but you don’t want anyone else to have me?” You asked, sitting up on the bed. “Make it make sense.”

“You’re my sister, Y/N. Am I not allowed to be over protective with you?” He retorted back.

“No, because it’s not just that,” your words were getting caught in your throat, desperate to come out. “You- You don’t act that way with a sister and you know that.”

“You’re reading into things-“

“Fuck you, Rafe,” you hit at him, this time it had been with a force that meant to hurt. “I’m not crazy and don’t make me feel like I am.”

Everything was rising to the service suddenly, all the feelings you had bottled up for years, threatening to drown you if you didn’t let them out.

“You know how I feel.” Tears filled your eyes as you gazed down at him, pleading for some sort of reaction.

“Maybe I step over the line of being inappropriate with you,” he tried to say. “And I don’t mean to do that but that doesn’t mean-“

“Oh my fucking god,” you almost laughed at his words.

He was spouting bullshit at you, words he probably told millions of other girls after leading them on for ages, only to drop them as if they were nothing more than the dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

But you weren’t just any girl.

“You’re going to wake everyone up,” he hissed as if he was mad at you.

You wanted to hurt him then. You had never wanted to hurt Rafe before, maybe get under his skin from time to time or push his buttons. But you wanted him to bleed for you like you did for him.

“You’re sick,” you spat at him.

His hand reached out towards you and you slapped it away.

“I’m not some random fucking girl, Rafe,” you cried, shaking beside him. “You’re evil.”

You couldn’t even look at him, too scared of how you might react.

You needed to leave that room, try and save the last bit of sanity you might have left.

It wasn’t hard when Rafe didn’t even try to pull you back in, not even saying anything to make you stay.

“You know I didn’t want to say it before but you do remind me of him.”

The last place you had expected to find yourself had been the cut, drinking and smoking with Sarah and her friends. But after a week of you wallowing in your own self pity, Sarah was growing incredibly worried. Most of your household was.

You wondered if they knew what happened, especially with the way you acted in the house. It wasn’t hard to notice you were avoiding Rafe in your own home. You two were always drawn to each other, practically spending every second together in that house, to laugh, to chat, to fight. It didn’t matter how happy or upset you were, you were always found together.

But every time he stepped into a room, you were looking to find the quickest exit. Never being in a room with him for longer than a second.

You needed space from him as much as you possibly could get. As much as he would even allow you.

You weren’t sure if Rafe knew where you were and there was some part in you that hoped he did, wanting him to be so angry with you in this second. You just wanted him to feel something for you, even if it came through a deep anger that had you flinching from him.

You swallowed the rest of your drink at that, trying to forget even if it was just for a few seconds. But there was always something pulling you back in.

This time it was Sarah, phone in hand as she grabbed your attention with a call of your name.

“Yeah?” You asked, trying to muster a small smile.

“It’s Rafe,” she told you, signaling to her phone. “He won’t stop calling me. He’s asking to speak to you.”

“No,” you simply said but your face twisted into something hideous.

You could tell in the way Sarah instantly listened to you, telling Rafe some excuse about why you wouldn’t talk to me.

But you knew she wouldn’t drop it that easily. It’s why seconds later you found her sitting next to you, wearing a weary look as she took you in.

“You know you can talk to me,” Sarah whispered, hand reaching out for yours.

“I know,” you nodded.

“Did something happen between you and Rafe?” She asked, squeezing your hand.

You looked at her then, furrowing your brows.

“Did he do something to you?”

You snatched your hand from hers, eyes widening at her suggestion.

“I see the way he looks at you,” she continued, a scowl sitting on her lips as the thought crossed her mind. “It’s sickening.”

“He didn’t touch me,” you confessed.

How were you supposed to tell her that was the reason you were upset? Because he wouldn’t touch you.

“Can’t I just be mad at him because he’s the biggest asshole on this whole island?”

“You can say that again,” she agreed. “We all hate him here.”

“I don’t hate him,” the words rolled off your tongue like second nature, always ready to defend Rafe even when you knew you shouldn’t.

“I don’t get it,” she sarcastically laughed, shaking her head. “I swear Rafe could burn this whole island to the ground, taking me and the rest of our family with it and you’d just hold his hand as he did it.”

“That’s not true, Sarah.” Your face softened when you looked at her. “You mean everything to me.”

“But Rafe means more, right?”

“No.” You shook your head. “It’s different with Rafe. You know that.”

“But he’s a bad person.”

“You know how he’s been there for me. When literally no one else has. You know what he’s done for me.”

“I know that he saved you from your dad-“

She reached out to touch you again but this time you didn’t want to hear it, moving to walk away. But Sarah followed.

“I know that must have been awful for you but you can’t just let him hold that over you,” her voice grew as she chased you, catching the eyes of the group.

“I don’t let him hold that over me.” You both knew that was a lie.

“He treats you like shit,” she screamed at you, making you finally turn her way. “He treats everyone terribly but I honestly think he treats you the worst. I don’t get it because you just let him.”

“You don’t have to understand,” your voice was shaky as you spoke, arms crossing over your chest. “I don’t need you to understand because honestly I don’t understand it myself.”

“He’s never going to treat you the way you want him to treat you.” Sarah looked at you defeated, arms held up as she backed away. “It’s not in Rafe’s nature to be nice.”

You couldn’t tell your sister that you didn’t exactly want Rafe to be nice to you.

In reality you couldn’t care if he was nice to you.

You enjoyed it when he was mean to you, bitter words cutting through you when he wanted to get under your skin.

And sure if the only way he was going to touch you would be a bruising grip on your wrists or his hand wrapped around your throat, you’d take it.

But you did also crave for him to be nice to you, sweet like when he soothed your cries with his fingers grazing your back. His voice gentle as he hushed you, lying beside you in his bed.

You wanted every bit of Rafe you could get, the good and the bad. You wanted all of it for yourself.

But that wasn’t happening anytime soon, not with his arm draped around some random girl.

You hadn’t known why you forced yourself to come to this party, the annual bonfire was usually something you attended with Rafe by your side. It was your thing.

The idea of booze and friendly faces, had been a nice idea earlier this morning. But as you stared around the familiar faces, you felt nothing but dread.

Dread at the thought that this was how life was going to be. A constant numbness holding your body captive.

“You want another one?” JJ asked, holding a can out for you.

“Thanks,” you nodded, taking it from his hands.

“You know you don’t have to stand over here by yourself,” JJ stated, bumping his elbow with yours. “We don’t bite even if Rafe says we do.”

Your face flushed in embarrassment at that, you didn’t want them to think you thought of them like that. There had been days when you possibly had judged them too harshly, you had never meant to, it was just easier to listen to Rafe then.

Even though you could tell JJ meant it as a joke, your lips parted instantly wanting to defend yourself.

“It’s not like that,” you tried to reassure him. “I’m just-“

“I’m joking with you,” he chuckled lightly.

Your body relaxed at that and you couldn’t help but smile.

“You want to talk about what’s got you so down?” He asked, taking space beside you. “Or are you one of those that drinks their problems away.”

You took another swig from your, answering his questions.

“I see.”

“I’m not actually much of a drinker if I’m honest,” you told him. “My- uh-” You weren’t sure why you were saying it but JJ made you feel comfortable, feeling the honesty slip from you.

“Your dad?” The amused tone had dropped from his voice, smile faded as he took a swig from his beer. “I know the feeling, trust me.”

“Yeah.” You forget that almost everyone knew about your situation. Rafe’s saviour moment when you were fifteen had been spread across all local newspapers.

“But you know can’t let trauma hold you back.” He pressed the bottle to his lips with a smirk and a wink in your direction. “When in Rome.”

You laughed at that, catching you off guard as you responded, “We’re not in rome.”

“I know.” He shrugged, smiling along with you.

JJ would be good for you. He seemed sweet and genuine, he understood a lot of the trauma you had gone through. You had heard enough about him through Sarah and Kiara when they were around and if he treated girls anything like how John B treated Sarah, you were sure he would be a catch.

But as your eyes peered into his and your laughter died down, you could only think of one person. The same person who was burning holes in the back of your skull as you turned to face him.

Rafe was still standing on his side of the bonfire but the girl that had been all over him before was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t walk over to you, didn’t say anything or motion to follow him but as feet took off, you already found yourself making an excuse.

“I’m really sorry but I got to run,” you told JJ, trying your best to give him an apologetic glance.

He nodded, not seeming too disappointed nor surprised at your sudden departure but there was a slight look of confusion on his face.

You ignored it, not really caring about it as you pushed yourself to your feet. All you could think about was following Rafe’s larger steps, letting him lead you to where all the cars were parked, where no one else would be able to see you.

His truck was in a secluded area, parked by trees that shadowed it. It wasn’t close to any walkways and it was enclosed by other surrounding cars.

It didn’t surprise you when you were suddenly slammed to Rafe’s door, a hand wrapping around your throat to keep you held there. He always lurked in the eerie silence, waiting for a moment to pounce Rafe, especially when it came to you. But what had surprised you was how tight his grip was, finding yourself wheezing for air as you looked at him.

“You like slutting it out for pogues, hmm?” He hissed, leaning into you.

Even in the darkness you could see how blown out his eyes were, the light shade of blue being overpowered by black. When his grip tightened even more, you actually became frightened, eyes widening at the sight of him.

“Like opening your legs for trash?” He spat.

You let out a strangled breath, becoming frantic as you tore at his hand to get off. Normally that was all that it would take but today Rafe wasn’t letting up and your pleas were being ignored.

“So angry with me that you would debase yourself like that. I mean my friends were one thing.” He shook his head, jaw clenching as tears glazed his eyes. “But fucking JJ Maybank.”

He dropped you then, letting you collapse to the ground as he took a step away from you.

You were gasping for breath, hand holding onto your neck in disbelief of what had just happened.

All of a sudden Sarah’s words rang in your head and you thought maybe you didn’t want to be treated like this anymore.

“I can’t even look at you right now.”

Your head twisted around at that, finding Rafe’s pacing form as you said, “You can’t look at me right now?” Tears were streaming down your face as you took a second to get up, staring at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

Rafe turned around, eyes narrowing at you.

“You’re exactly like him-”

“Don’t fucking start with that bullshit,” He went to argue, pointing in your face.

“No, you are,” you laughed, finally realising. “You’re exactly like my dad. Everytime you hurt me you always have a reason to blame me. It’s always my fault.”

Rafe smirked at that, nodding as if he was in agreement. “Yeah, it’s why you always come running back when I apologise. So eager for more.”

Your hand connected with his face and you heard it before you felt it. Your hand stung afterwards and when Rafe began to laugh as a reaction, you immediately regretted it.

“Is it my turn?” He questioned, a smug smirk on his lips.

“You’re sick.” Tears were streaming down your face, painting your cheeks and chin. Yet he didn’t seem to care one bit.

He only turned away, stepping round the truck and calling out to you. “Get in.”

Without hesitation you did.

(Dividers by @cafekitsune)

#rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #dark rafe cameron

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aquavistaresorthotel · 6 months

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Tips to Find the Best Virginia Beach Hotels on the Boardwalk

Enjoy a luxurious time staying in the Virginia Beach hotels on the Boardwalk by following some tips to find the best hotels. Choose the right time to travel and avoid peak times, also you must have a flexible travel plan, especially with the dates. And make sure that you book your rooms always in advance.

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supernaturallyedsheeran · 12 days

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Date Night Surprise

SYNOPSIS: Trying to get anything out of Dean after a hunt seems impossible - especially when he's trying to surprise you with a date night.

PAIRING: Reader x Dean

WARNING: mentions of alcohol

CHARACTERS: Dean Winchester

FANDOM: Supernatural

You first notice something off about Dean when he brushes off your questions about the latest hunt. Usually brimming with theories on how it could have happened, today he's unusually tense, muttering about "complications" and "next time." You figure it must have been a tough case, another monster that got away or a plan gone sideways.

Throughout the day, he disappears into the garage for extended periods, claiming he's "working on Baby." Sam seems equally tight-lipped when you ask him what's up with Dean, only offering a knowing smile and a shrug. Frustrated and a bit worried now, you resign yourself to giving Dean space, hoping he'll open up eventually.

By late afternoon, Dean finally emerges, looking slightly less tense but still preoccupied. "Hey," he says, catching your eye. "You free tonight?"

You nod cautiously, unsure where this is going. "Yeah, I'm free. What's up?"

Dean's lips curl into a mischievous grin. "Great. Get ready around seven. Wear something casual, and meet me in the kitchen."

With his smirk turning into a full grin, Dean disappears down the hall, leaving you more confused than ever. What is he planning? Is this some sort of apology for being distant all day?

At seven o'clock sharp, you make your way to the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a comfortable t-shirt. Dean is already there, setting out an array of items on the table—a bottle of your favorite wine, a takeout container from your preferred taco joint, grocery store flowers, and a map spread out, showing the local town.

"Surprise," Dean says, his smile widening as he sees you enter. "I know today's been weird, but I've been planning this."

Your confusion gives way to a wide grin as you take in the spread before you. "You did all this?"

Dean nods, gesturing for you to take a seat. "Yeah. Thought we could use a break from the usual. Wine, tacos, and a walk along the boardwalk. What do you say?" He finishes, handing you the flowers.

You can't help but laugh, feeling touched by Dean's effort to make your night special despite his earlier distractions. "I say it sounds perfect." You inhale the flowers - they smell amazing.

Over dinner, Dean fills you in on the details of his day—trying to find a good rated taco place, the frantic hunt for your favorite wine, and the nervousness that you might catch on before he was ready. He admits to roping Sam into helping with the flowers and confesses it was Sam's idea to take a stroll by the beach.

As the evening progresses, you and Dean leave to stroll along the beach, enjoying the cool summer breeze and each other's company. You talk about everything and nothing, savoring the rare moment of peace and normalcy in your chaotic lives.

Later, under the soft glow of the boardwalk lights, you find yourselves standing by the water's edge, hand in hand. Dean looks at you, his green eyes reflecting moonlight dancing on the water.

"I just want you to be happy," he says quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "You deserve it."

You squeeze his hand gently, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, Dean. This is... all I want."

Dean pulls you into a warm hug, kissing your head and then resting his chin on the top. "Anytime, sweetheart. I'd do anything for you." He exhales big, shoulders dropping and for once, feeling relaxed and calm.

As you lean into him, watching the moon sparkle and dance on the waves, you realize that despite the day's normalcy of Dean Winchester being a little weird, he has once again proven why he's not just your partner in hunting but also your partner in life.

#dean winchester #winchester #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural #spnfandom #fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean pairing #dean winchester pairing #dean winchester fanfiction #fluff #winchester fluff #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #dean x you

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the-avengers-not-the-nazis · 3 months

Text

Bad moon rising II

Summary: After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.

Word count: 2.9k

Poly!lost boys x Emerson!reader

[1] [2] [3] [4]

A/n: I am gonna be 100% honest with all of yall, I have cried, yelled at myself, and threaten to throw my phone across the room. Because I had no idea how to get the reader and the boys to meet. So, this honestly will probably suck, but I have tried my hardest. Spent too many hours deleting and rewriting for this to be bad. So please enjoy if can

The board walk was unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. It was packed full of bustling people, everyone wanting to go through all the rides, shops and games that they had on display.

Lights came from all around, aluminating your way through the crowd as you tried to decide what to do first on the boardwalk. Screams and laughter sounded from the rollar coaster ride, the bumps and spins tempted you, but you knew that you’d need to ease your way into everything.

This would be the moment when you’d wish that Sam or Micheal had come with you, they would try to do everything at once. But, unfortunately, right as you three had arrived; the boys had caught wind of a concert, ditching you to go watch Timmy Cappello perform.

Treacherous dicks. You called them, wishing that at least one of them would have stuck with you as you ventured where you’d be spending the remainder of your summer.

You wiped your palms against the fabric of your shorts, the heat of the night air causing a faint sheen of sweat to coat your body. After you’d finished unpacking all the necessities from the car, you’d taken a quick shower and changed for a night out on the board walk.

And thankfully so, the gentle breeze against your bare legs cooled you down enough for you to actually enjoy the night out.

Chimming bells suddenly grasped your attention, facing the noise, you saw a small shop that was isolated from the others. One of the stores windows was cracked, a piece of cardboard covered the inside to prevent the glass from falling out.

It was a music shop.

You remembered when your dad would take you as a kid, letting you pick out cassette tapes, and vinyl records for your room. The old record player would run all day from how many times you would listen to Elvis, Buck Owen’s, and The mamás & the papas.

It was such a shame that you had to sell the record player and half of your vinyl collection to help out after the divorce. With such little money, you had to make sacrifices for your family. No matter how much you regretted it afterwards.

You glanced up at the sign above the door, a wooden guitar with the words Soundscape etched into the body, swayed against the gentle breeze. A young couple walked out of the store, hand in hand, a paper bag with their purchase held tightly as they ambled away.

Reaching into your pocket, you felt around for your wallet. The small leather bound material felt weighted as you pulled it out, the sudden urge to spend your money caused you to open the door of the shop.

The bell rang above you, and a quick greeting sounded from the cashier. You politely greeted him back before wandering throughout the store.

It was decently clean, a few stray cd’s littered the ground and a couple display posters were a bit too crooked. But, overall, it was perfect for you.

You trailed your fingers over a couple of vinyls, picking up a few before putting them back in place. Not really looking for anything specific at the moment, you just tried to find something that would catch your eye.

Stopping infront of the cassette tapes, you let yourself go through each row, the soft clicking as the cassettes bumped against each other drifted up towards your ears. That and the sound of Jeff Lynne’s voice singing Don’t bring me down, was the only noise that filtered throughout the store.

Your finger graced an Elvis cassette, the image of him and his infamous guitar sat in the clear case. Picking up the tape, you flipped it over reading the listed songs that went with each side. It had a couple good ones; like Blue Suede Shoes, All Shook Up, Return To Sender, Burning Love and of course some others.

It was his top greatest hits from each album.

You tapped the plastic against your palm, debating if you should spend the money just to add to your Elvis collection. You actually had a lot of collections that you needed to complete, but, with this specific artist you only had small handful left to find.

Kinda like Sam’s Batman comics that he’s been trying to find at every book store that you’d passed on the way down here.

The bell suddenly rang once more, dragging your attention away from the shelf infront of you. A group of men walked in, each leather clad and mullet wearing. The smell of smoke drifted off of them, wafting through the store. It made you scrunch your nose in disgust.

“Welcome to the SoundScape,” The Cashier told them, the rehearsed words falling easily out of his mouth. “If you need any help, please let me know.”

None of the guys acknowledged the worker, or, they did though they just didn’t pay him any mind. You watched as they each dispersed from one another, going to different displays around the store. Picking up random items before putting them back where they originally were.

One of the guys walked down the same row you were on, his eyes trailing over the selection of cassettes. You returned your gaze back to your own tape, not wanting to be caught staring at the guy like a creep.

Eyeing the rack infront of you, wondering if you should buy the Elvis tape or possibly another. If you’d had enough money on you. You kept your eye on a Boney M. cassette, the item practically calling your name. You reached forward fingers less than an inch away from the plastic when a sudden commotion caused you to freeze.

BAM!

Your head instantly shot up, the sudden noise disturbing the once peaceful silence. It came from a guy in the leathered group, the small one with curly hair, he stood over a fallen display of cd’s. His hands held up in the air, a small smug grin tugging on his lips as he turned to the stores worker.

“I’m sorry, man.” He told him, his apologie laced with sarcasm. “It just started falling.”

The cashier let out a deep sigh, his smile turning from genuine to forced as he eyed the scattered items. “It’s alright, accidents happen.”

You watched as the curly guy bent down and picked up the stand, purposely hitting the one right beside it as he did so. He let out another fake apology before the worker shooed him away, picking up everything himself before curly messed up the entire store.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the movement of the blond beside you shove something in his pocket. You turned you head slightly, to get a better view, and you watched as he took another cassette from the shelf and put it on the inside of his jacket.

You glanced between him and the other three guys that he came in with, noticing that with the worker busy they were taking items off of their display and stuffing them deep into their clothes. Hell, the curly guy was trying to fit a whole vinyl record in the front of his shirt. A very prominent square outlined for everyone to see.

It was a diversion, knocking over enough stuff for the counter guy to get pissed and pick everything up himself. It was clever, but still wrong.

With your attention kept on the tapes infront of you, you opened your mouth. Voice low enough so that only the blonde next to you could hear. “You shouldn’t do that.”

The man glanced up at you, not at all ashamed of what he was doing. “What’s that?”

“You shouldn’t steal.”

He let out a quiet laugh, leaning his upper body against the shelf. “Oh, really?” He asked, voice drawing out into a tease. “Wanna tell me why I shouldn’t, babe?”

You gestured to the store around you, eyes meeting his. “Because, its wrong. And, just because you and your friends can’t see that, doesn’t mean that it’s right.”

“Well, me and my friends seem to think it pretty damn fun.” He told you, pushing off the shelf as he took a few small steps towards you. “So, your reasoning is pretty much useless in this case.”

The guy stood a mere foot away from you, his eyes trailing across your face. His smile growing ever so slightly as he took you in. “So, watcha gonna do about it?” He asked, voice soft and teasing as he held a tape infront of you.

“Put it back.”

“Why? There is no fun in doing the right thing.” He waved the item in your face. “Is there, babe?”

You snatched the cassette from his grasp, eyes not once leaving his as you placed it randomly on the shelf. “Put ‘em all back.” You scolded, voice rising ever so slightly. “It’s shitty and disrespectful for the ones that try to make a living working in places like this.”

He glanced over the top rack, eyeing the worker with disinterest. “Yeah, but, it’s also disrespectful to have to work at a place like this.” He turned back to you. “So, if he gets fired then he’ll come and thank us.”

You opened your mouth to retaliate, wanting to tell him how much his point didn’t make since. When you notice how quiet the store had gotten, the music coming from the speakers and the worker picking up the cds were the only thing. Glancing around you couldn’t see the guys friends, all of them gone from where they originally were.

“Yeah, Paul, put it back.” A voiced suddenly called from beside you, arm slinging itself across your shoulder.

Peering beside you, you saw the curly haired guy, his eyes dancing between both you and Paul. You didn’t even hear him come up behind you, in fact you didn’t even know that he had moved from where he was across the store.

You pushed off his arm, the feeling of his body pressed up against your own made your face heat up. Looking back at Paul, you noticed how his body seemed to get more ecstatic, smile forming into a friendly tease. “Oh, yeah? Why don’t you put up that vinyl of yours.” He tapped against the cardboard beneath the fabric.

Curly swatted his hand away, pulling the vinyl from beneath his shirt and dropping it on the floor. You eyed the disc on the ground, annoyance seeping into your chest at the disregard of store.

“Pick it up.” You told the smaller one, side stepping away from them both to give yourself some room.

He tsked, eyes roaming your body up and down. “Well, aren’t you a bossy one.”

“I wouldn’t be bossy if you’d stop fucking-“

“Watch your mouth.” A different voice spoke up, stopping you from finishing your sentence. You glanced over at the voice, taking in his long overcoat and bleach blonde hair. “It’s not nice to treat strangers that way.”

You furrowed you eyebrows, “If your saying I’m being rude, than that’s really the last thing I care about right now.”

A few small snickers came from around you, causing you to look around at each men that surrounded you. The two blondes stood the closest to you, giving you just a foot of breathing room. Then there were the the bleach blonde and brunette. They stood the furthest from you, but their stares alone were enough to make you feel like they were everywhere at once.

Your body felt like it was on fire underneath their gazes, that and your dignity slowly burning away as realized how much of a fool you must look like right now. You quickly crouched down, picking up the vinyl and gently setting it on the shelf. Not really caring that it’s not where it belongs right now.

Someone cleared their throat. You and the guys turned your attention towards the worker, who stood behind the counter with a wet rag. “We’re closing.” He told them, nodding toward the door with little patience. “If your gonna buy something, now is the time.”

You gave him a quick ‘ok’, forced smile gracing your features as you turned to face the men. You eyed them wearyingly, knowing that they could just easily walk out of here without doing at all what you’ve been asking.

A soft chuckle came from the bleach blonde, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he placed a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “C’mon, Paul.” He said, turning to walk out of the store. “Put ‘em back, we got places to be.”

You watched as he pulled out a cd, the front of the case covered in a band called Scorpion. He set it down on the shelf, his eyes not once leaving your own. “We’ll see you around.” He muttered, voice low and mesmerizing to hear as he spoke.

It was almost like a fly getting caught in honey. Alluring and sticky, but, it’s just a trap for the prey.

You didn’t acknowledge his words, instead you just watched as he walked out, the others slowly trailing after him. The brunette hadn’t muttered a single word since entering the store, and apparently didn’t feel the need to as he stepped outside.

Curly slowly wandered towards the door, turning swiftly to wave his fingers at you before disappearing behind the glass. A simple ‘Have a nice night’ spilling from his lips as he did so. Paul then turned to walked out, his arm resting across your shoulder slide off. Hand coming up to pinch your nose. “Yeah, we’ll be seeing ya around.” He told you, voice indicating that it wasn’t a suggestion, but more of a promise.

Swatting his hand away from your face, you watched as he chuckled, walking away as he went to join his friends. Leaving you all alone in the isle, with nothing but your Elvis tape and flustered face.

Engines revved outside as you walked up to the cashier, the sound of the fading bikes meeting your ears as you tossed the cassette on the counter. The worker rang you up, placed your item in a paper bag and thanked you for your purchase. You quietly wished him good night, before turning on your heal and walking outside.

You were quickly met with the warm night air, the loud noises coming from the boardwalk surrounded you once more. You held on tightly to the paper bag, the cassette softly rattling inside as you quickly walked away from the Soundscape.

You were still flustered from your interaction with the four boys. The feeling of their bodies pressed up against your own made the night heat all the more unbearable. What if I would have just left them alone? You thought, swerving through a group of people that waited patiently for the carousel.

They still would have taken from the shop, and that guy would’ve probably lost his job from all the items missing. But, you wouldn’t have lost some of your dignity whilst doing so.

A sigh left your lips, unoccupied hand going into your jacket pocket. Though instead of the feeling of the scratchy fabric, your fingers graced against a peice of cold plastic. You stopped walking, standing by your lonesome in the middle of the boardwalk as you pulled out whatever rested in your pocket.

It was a Scorpion cd. The same one that you saw the bleach blonde pull from his coat. You hadn’t even felt him slip the item in your pocket, was it when you were getting on to him or when he was leaving? Was he even the one that slipped it in?

Stupid prick, you thought. Stuffing the disk into the paper bag with your Elvis one, there was no sense in returning it now. The shop was already closing up and how would you even explain that to the poor worker.

You shook your head, the events of the night tiring you out.

From a distance you could see both Sam and Micheal standing in the middle of the boardwalk, their attention caught on a girl and little boy. You made your way over to your brothers, the paper bag swaying in your hand as your feet picked up.

Sam greeted you when you came near, his long over coat brushing against his shoes. “He’s been following her since the concert.” He told you, gesturing with his hand towards the pretty girl.

“Mmh, hey, peeping Tom.” You tugged on Micheal sleeve, trying to pull him away. “I’m ready to go home.”

He didn’t acknowledge you, his eyes staring longingly at the back of the girls head. You pulled once more at his arm, barely getting him to move when the sudden loud noise of multiple vehicles rushed on the boardwalk. Glancing towards the disturbance, you watched as four familiar bodies stopped infront of the girl and boy.

They each revved their engines, purposely scaring away anyone that too close. You watched as the little boy made his way over to one of the motorcycles, the brunette pulling him up to sit behind him.

The girl placed her arm across the bleach blondes chest, hosting herself onto the back of the motorcycle. “C’mon, man, she played you.” Sam told his brother, pulling him away from his rooted spot on the deck. You stayed put for a second, slowly trailing after your brothers as the engines of the bikes faded from earshot.

Your mind going to when exactly you’d be seeing them again.

A/a/n: Like I said, this took so long to figure out how exactly the reader and the boys would meet each other. So, I honestly would understand if y'all don’t like this, but, trust me the other chapters are going to be a whole lot better.

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