#am i real for this . can anyone hear me it's so dark in here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sceletaflores · 3 months ago

Text

it’s the easiest thing (just love me and eat me)

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

anon says: nat pls speak on sub!logan...people are hating on the sub!logan agenda and someone needs to show them that they're wrong and it can be done cuz if anyone can convince them it's you mommy!

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, crimson! again! she's back!, slight angst, swearing, violence, light gore, somewhat dark content, religious symbolism? (idk this one got weird babes), established relationship, lowkey a toxic relationship but you didn't hear that from me, sub!logan-ish, handjob, p in v, slow sex turned rough, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, pain kink, scent kink, blood play, blood...eating (drinking? idk), porn with a tiny bit of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: anon i'm so sorry this took me so long...i hope it was worth the wait! it started as a short smutty drabble that somehow turned into…this? idk it got out of hand so fast. i am a proud member of the sub!logan nation but that's mostly because i think that ALL men have the potential for sub vibes like doesn't matter who he is if i want to fuck him he's probably a little subby. special shout out to my baby boo and fellow sub!logan truther @avocado-writing <3 tysm for sharing anon! xoxo mwah.

dividers by icon @saradika-graphics!

psst! want more logan and crimson? here's the to the bone au masterlist!

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

The team had a big scare earlier in the day.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, bust a mutant trafficking ring in Albany. You do assignments like these every week, and as sick as it sounds, it’s almost routine.

But this one was different. It was an ambush, and you were compromised.

Only humans, but they were smart. Waited until the team split up to attack. They had tech, things you'd never seen before.

Big guns loaded with tiny darts full of an ominous red liquid.

It was your fault really. You didn't clear your surroundings, so focused on getting to the kids that you let yourself get sloppy.

The tiny sting in your back barely registered, you don't think you would have even noticed if it didn't kick in so fast.

You'd never felt anything like it before in your life.

It didn't hurt. The rush of pain you braced yourself for never coming.

The sensation was strange—like your body was shutting down, piece by piece. You fell to your knees, shaky legs folding under you in less than a second.

You felt empty, wrong. An eerie silence trickling in to fill your insides.

Panic bubbled beneath your skin, but you were too numb to feel it. Trapped in the mounting weight of your limbs, the slow blink of your eyes, the shortness of breath despite hardly moving.

Your hand slipped across the gritty cement, reaching for support that wasn't there.

That was when you saw it, the shock of it was enough for your heart to drop. Your skin, blanched and sallow, the veins in your arms black and spreading like spilled ink.

You tried to fight it, tried to will your body to move, to react, to do something. You had to get up. You had to. The kids.

As hard as you willed yourself, there was nothing. It was like your body wasn't your own, like it had become something completely foreign.

You could barely make out the tiny voices calling for you. Pleading, frantic yelps of your name fading into a dull hum as everything went hazy. The edges of your vision blurring into a narrow tunnel.

He stepped in front of you, the same one who shot you. A cynical grin on his face and collar in his hand. You'd seen collars like it before, used on mutants to muzzle their abilities, to weaken them.

You tried, fingers barely twitching by your. Nothing. Just another shock of that cold, unfamiliar feeling shooting through your body.

“Got a big one, boss.” The man boasted into a comm strapped to his wrist, his voice sharp and grating. He took a single step towards you, smug grin still stretched across his face. “Yeah, real nice lookin' one too. She'll sell for—“

A muddy roar pulsed through the molasses filled haze of your ears, six claws flying through the air to embed themselves on either side of the man's skull with a wet, stomach-churning sound.

The collar dropped from his slackened grip with a dull bang, shattering into different pieces that slid across the floor haphazardly. A mess of wires and metal.

There were rushed footsteps before he dropped to his knees in front of you, his torso bathed in a dull glow from the overhead lights yellow shine.

There was blood splattered across the side of his face, slicking the front of his suit enough to reflect light off the leather.

Logan, perched in front of you like an angel.

Not one with a golden halo and a harp, but a indescribable mess of eyes and wings looming over you calling 'be not afraid'.

You'd never seen him so shaken before. All wide-eyed and pale as he checked you over for any major injuries. His breath coming in short bursts, hands frantic and shaky as they skated along your body for the viscosity of blood or uneven shift of a break.

He refused to let you even try and walk on your own, swept you off the floor and cradled your trembling body to his chest as he called for help. The beat of his heart was fast beneath your cheek, strong enough that you could feel it even through the thick leather of his suit.

You buried your face deeper in the crook of his neck, the pit in your stomach barely warmed by the feel of him. His scent is strongest there, so much so that in a room full of spilled blood, you could only smell him.

He was careless stepping over clawed up bodies littering the floor like a messy maze of twitching limbs and entrails. You didn't even know there was more than one guard in the room.

The evidence of his love for you, of his devotion, oozing red on the concrete.

Logan didn't even give the carnage a sideways glance as he raced you outside, back to the jet.

Trusting Scott and Jean to take over getting the kids out. The unsteady murmurs he pressed to the top of your head the last thing you heard before there was nothing.

You woke up six hours later.

The sterile hum of medical equipment was the first thing you heard. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled your nostrils, and the faint pressure of a needle in your arm confirmed that you were hooked up to an IV.

Your muscles felt heavy, like someone had filled them with lead. But you were alive.

You could feel your body working overtime, fixing itself. The sickening shift of your insides falling back into place.

It took a few more moments for you to realize you weren’t alone.

A low, familiar rumble caught your attention. You turned your head to see Logan slumped in a chair by the bedside, his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was mussed, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion.

He looked different, smaller, as though the weight of what happened was pressing down on him, making him fold in on himself.

You’d seen him bloody, beaten, on the verge of death, but you’d never seen him like this–completely and utterly human.

Your throat was too dry to speak, but a small sound escaped you, and Logan's head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and in a heartbeat, he was at your side, his large hands hovering over you, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid you’d shatter under his fingers.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. His voice was hoarse, cracked with a mixture of relief and something else, something deeper. His eyes darted over your face, your arms, as if memorizing every detail just to make sure you were real.

“I'm sorry,” you managed, your voice barely more than a rasp.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, the lines in his forehead deepening. "What the hell are you apologizing for?" His voice was gruff, but there was a tenderness beneath it. A gentleness he only reserved for you.

Your lips cracked into a weak smile. "It was my fault. I messed up."

A growl rumbled low in his chest, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin, not at you but at the situation, at whoever had dared to hurt you.

“Don’t,” he said, voice like gravel. “Don't start, none of this is on you.” His voice softened slightly as he leaned closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “What matters is you’re here.”

The reassurance wrapped around you like a warm blanket, grounding you.

Logan’s thumb traced the line of your jaw, his touch sending a spark of warmth through your veins. “When I saw you on the floor like that…I thought—” He shook his head, jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I thought I lost you.”

Your fingers twitched slightly, managing to catch his wrist, squeezing it with what little strength you had. “I’m right here,” you said softly, voice clearer than before. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s gaze softened again as he looked down at your hand, his rough exterior cracking just a little more. He gently pried your fingers from his wrist and pressed your hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a breathless huff. “Didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You never do.”

You were fine an hour later.

The color of your skin had returned, glossy and like new. The hollow emptiness inside of you long gone. Your abilities passed every test Charles threw your way with flying colors.

Fully recovered and finally excused from the med-bay after Hank and Jean checked you over one last time, you were given your strict marching orders in the form of extra fluids and bed rest, no matter how much you argued that you were fine.

Your health was the last thing on your mind, just a distant phantom ache each time your eyes would find Logan.

He was still shaken up, even after all the reassurance from Charles and Hank. He kept close the rest of the day, hovering, his presence more protective than usual, but he didn’t talk much.

You could see it in the way he moved, slower, less sure, like he was carrying around something too heavy to shake off. It lingered in the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands flexed as though still looking for something to fight, to protect you from.

It wasn’t hard to guess what it was.

You hated seeing him like this, burdened by a guilt he didn’t deserve.

It gnawed at you, that heaviness. The way he started to shut down, to close himself off in the face of fear. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

After seeing him like that, bed rest was the last thing on your mind.

You knew Logan. Knew what he needed when his thoughts got tangled up like this, dragging him under. He wasn't the type to sit and talk through it, not easily anyway.

And even though you know he’d never ask for it himself, you knew what he needed—to be reminded, physically, that you were still here, still his.

Later that night, when the mansion had quieted and the others were tucked away in their rooms, you found him exactly where you thought you’d find him—in the room you shared, sitting on the edge of the bed. The yellow light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across his face, the tension in his jaw still there.

A frown tugged the corners of your mouth as you moved towards him, catching his attention with the rustle of the sheets as you sat next to him.

“Logan,” you say softly, breaking the stillness. He doesn't respond, only the slightest twitch in his shoulders indicating he even heard you. “Hey,” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time.

He turns his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, the crease between his brows, weariness etched into his features.

But he still doesn't speak.

You shift, moving closer until your fingers brush his arm, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his shirt. “Look at me,” you whisper, and finally, his gaze lifts to meet yours, guarded and pained. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Logan shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run it through his already messy hair. “You could’ve died,” he bites out, tone rough and low. “We should've never fuckin' split up. I should’ve been there faster, sooner. I should’ve–”

“Logan.” Your voice cut through his, sharper than you meant it to. You catch his hand in yours, thumb brushing against the pulse point of his wrist. “You saved me, I’m not going anywhere. I need you to hear that.”

He meets your gaze then, eyes dark with something vulnerable, something raw. He nods weakly, like he only half-believes it. You can still see the hesitation swirling through his eyes, the reluctance in the stiffness of his muscles against yours.

He needs something more than words, something to bring him back to you.

With that, you move to straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His body stiffens under yours, his breath hitching slightly as his hands fall to your waist almost instinctively.

“Hold on,” Logan starts, tone hesitant and hands light as they hover over your hips like he’s still scared to touch you. “You heard what Hank said–”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, finality lacing your tone and leaving no room for argument. You reach down, taking his hand in yours and bringing it up to press flat directly over your heart. The very same way he did your first night together. "Can you feel me?”

The question hangs between you, soft but weighted with purpose.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, fingers splaying wider across your chest. The heat of his palm sinks through to your skin, lighting a fire in you.

The steady beat of your heart under his touch is an undeniable reminder–alive, strong, with him. You can feel him relax, just a touch.

The tension in his muscles breaking down beneath you piece by piece as the rhythm grounds him, helps to pull him out of his spiral.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely audible. His eyes drop to where his hand rests, his thumb absently grazing the space just above your sternum. “I feel you.”

“Then trust it,” you murmur. “Trust me.”

A deep, slow breath escapes him, and something in his eyes softens just enough. You lean closer, your fingers trailing up his arms, over his shoulders, until they thread into the hair at the nape of his neck.

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighs deeply, leaning into your touch like a dog starved of attention from its master. His grip on your waist finally tightens, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to feel that edge of need—the need to let go.

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” you murmur, scratching your nails along his scalp softly. “Now let me take care of you.”

You feel him shudder, a weak groan escaping from his slack lips. His hazy eyes search your face, pupils blown out and seeping into the warm hazel color like an oil spill over a lake.

You tilt your head, lips grazing the stubble on his jawline, moving slowly, deliberately, until you can capture his mouth in a kiss.

It’s soft at first, gentle, but you feel him melt into it, the sharp edge of his restraint crumbling as he kisses you back with a kind of hunger that fuels you.

Logan’s hands slide up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as you take control, deepening the kiss, coaxing him further into the moment.

His mouth is warm and wet and urgent against yours, the scrape of his teeth along your bottom lip sends a thrill down your spine.

His lips move over yours with a reverence that makes your chest tighten, as if each slick glide of your lips together is an apology, a promise, and a plea all rolled into one.

But you don’t want his apologies. You want his surrender.

His breath stutters in his chest when your fingers twist in his hair, tugging just enough to remind him who’s in charge tonight.

When your hand finds his chest, pushing him down gently, he goes without protest. His eyes never leave yours as he settles against the pillows, following your every movement as you crawl closer.

Climbing over him to perch on top of his thighs, you waste no time in reaching for the hem of his shirt, gently tugging on it in a silent question. Logan’s breath comes in shallow puffs as he nods, fingers twitching on your hips.

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls under the tips of your fingers, the sharp intake of air when your hands ghost across the skin of his lower stomach as you lift his shirt up and over his head.

You toss it over your shoulder carelessly, it lands with a muted thump somewhere behind you, leaving his chest bare. His muscles taut and rippling as he forces himself to stay still, the dim light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours along his torso.

You take a moment to just admire him, trailing your fingers along the familiar planes of his skin. Your touch is feather light, tracing over the spots that should be littered in scars.

The place in his shoulder where he got shot two weeks back, or where the loose shrapnel that embedded itself in his side on the last mission should be, or the skin where his shoulder meets his neck after you dug your teeth into it hard enough to bleed a few nights ago.

The way his body responds to you makes your pulse quicken—the way he finally relaxes completely under your touch, melting into the mattress.

You continue your path down, fingers slipping through the ridges of his abs, scratching your nails through the dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his bottoms teasingly. The muscles of his stomach jump under your touch, the power of his need thrumming beneath your touch.

You drag your hand over the hard length of him, his cock thick and hot as it twitches beneath your fingers. There’s a sharp hiss bleeding through grit teeth as his hips twitch up off the mattress ever so slightly.

You lean forward, hiding a small smirk in the crook of his neck. “Logan,” you whisper, voice dripping with intent, “I want you to beg for it.”

A deep, guttural growl rumbles through his chest. It shakes your body like thunder, finding a home between your thighs. Logan’s head falls back against the pillows, exposing the tan column of his throat to your hungry gaze.

It’s almost immediate, your reaction, your bodies reaction. The pulse of your blood starts to simmer with that telltale heat, slowly bubbling beneath your skin in anticipation.

Your gaze traces along where the vein of his jugular presses against his skin enticingly, barely suppressing a full body shiver at the sight.

You slip your index and middle finger beneath his waistband, brushing against his hard cock with barely any pressure. His hips buck up again, seeking more friction, but you pull back slightly, making him chase it.

“I said beg, Logan,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, a sharp edge to it now. Your free hand comes up, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you.

His eyes, dark and blown wide with lust, meet yours, and you can see the war raging inside him—the urge to dominate, to take control—but then he’s giving in to you, surrendering so beautifully.

“Goddamn,” he rasps quietly, his voice rough, broken. It’s barely a word, more of a growl torn from his throat. He bites it out, quiet and foreign sounding coming from his tongue. “Please, I need—”

“Good boy,” you purr, and finally, drag the soaked fabric of his bottoms down. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach lewdly.

You moan softly, deftly wrapping your fist around him loosely. Logan groans, you swear you can hear his teeth grind together at the first feeling of your touch where he wants it most.

He’s scalding to the touch, velvety skin throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Rock-hard and flushed an angry red, darkening even more the closer you get to the tip.

You keep the pace of your strokes tortuously slow, letting him feel every movement, teasing him. It’s addictive, watching the way he starts to unravel beneath you at the slightest touch.

His legs kick out against the mattress minutely, hands falling from your hips to grip the sheets as hard as he can in a failing attempt to calm himself.

You lean down, slick lips brushing against his as you speak, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you tonight, aren't you?”

Logan nods, his breath coming in quick pants, his sweaty chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes,” he chokes out, eyes brimming with need. “Fuck, do whatever you want, baby. I’m yours.”

The usual dominance he carries like a second skin has been peeled away, leaving him vulnerable, laid out beneath you, at your mercy.

Your hand speeds up, grip tightening as you twist your wrist over his leaking tip. Your knuckles shine with pre-come, slick from the gratuitous amount of wetness steadily drooling out.

“You’re being so good for me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice soft and laced with praise. “So good, letting me take care of you like this.”

His response is a loud moan, his hips arching up off the bed, but you’re quick to press them down with your free arm, your thighs tightening around him.

“Not yet,” you warn, strength on display as you stop his movements. “You’ll come when I say.”

A strangled sound escapes him, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and it sends a thrill through you. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, but he’s holding on—for you.

“Poor thing,” you mumble, idly pressing your thumb into his slit, gathering the precome there to spread it along the flushed crown. “So hard, so needy for me.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Logan whines, his head tipping back against the pillows a second times, eyes squeezing shut tighten enough to wrinkle the skin around them.

You smile, your nails digging into his chest as you shift, positioning yourself above him. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, slick all along your inner thighs as it pools from your aching cunt, drenching the soft cotton of your panties.

So desperate to be stretched around Logan’s cock, to be filled the only way he can. You roll your hips forward, the hard jut of his cock sliding through the sticky mess of your panties.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, loud and hoarse. “Fuck, give it to me, I’m ready–”

You press your finger to his lips, silencing him as you hover over him. “Not yet,” you whisper, a wicked grin on your face as you slide your panties to the side and take him in your hand, letting the tip brush against your soaked entrance, still not giving him what he craves.

Your own patience is starting to run thin, but the sound of his begging is too good.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” you say, your voice sharp and commanding as you rub the tip of him along your cunt, teasing. “Tell me what you need.”

He’s trembling beneath you, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you sink down slightly, barely letting him inside. "Please, darlin'," he groans, voice rough with need. "I need to feel you—need you so fuckin’ bad."

You finally give in, sinking down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.

His body jerks beneath you, a choked growl spilling from his lips as you take him in, inch by inch. You don’t stop until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls clenching around him as you settle into his lap.

The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat, the way he fills you completely.

You both groan at the same time, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you roll your hips, savoring the way he pulses inside you, how his entire body reacts to every little movement.

“God, you’re so big,” you whisper, your voice heavy with lust as you look down at where your bodies meet. “You gonna be a good boy and let me ride you?”

“Fuck,” he grits, voice like gravel crunching underfoot.

His hands slide up your back, desperate and needy as they cradle the back of your head softly. “I’d kill them all,” he pants, lips messily searching for your own, desperate for more frantic kisses. “Fuckin’ all of them, all for you.”

You moan loud and unabashed, eyes screwing shut as your nails rake down his chest hard enough to break the skin. The smell of his blood breaks through the air, heady and sharp. He throws his head back, a broken gasp dragged out of him as his hips speed up.

You think back to the room in the warehouse, the floor slick with stray remains and viscera. Think back to him lifting you to his chest, of the blood spattered across his suit and face slipping against your own clammy skin.

Flashes of Logan running to you like a loyal livestock dog, covered in the blood of any wolf that dares attack his precious sheep. Staining the white of your wool red with the righteous wrath of his sacrifice.

You roll your hips faster, bouncing with enough force to have you crying out. The tight suction of your walls pulling him as deep as he can get at this angle.

The coarse hair along his stomach drags against your throbbing clit, making white hot sparks of pleasure zing up your spine to light up each vertebrae.

Logan presses his forehead to your chest, hot breath puffing out over your sweaty neck. You tilt your head to the side almost subconsciously, bearing more of yourself to him.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he admits weakly, blunt nails digging into your skin sharp enough to sting. “Feels so good, so fuckin' good."

He trails off, face pinched with ecstasy as he gazes up at you. You smile, rolling your hips slowly, tiny figure eights that let you feel every inch of him pressing against your walls.

“You're not supposed to hold back," you whisper, your voice thick with need as you lean down, kissing along his jawline. "I want you to let go, Logan."

His eyes snap open, the hazel gone wild and desperate, and it’s like you can see the exact moment he breaks. The tiniest shred of self control finally crumbling under the weight of his instincts. With a low, feral growl, he surges up.

You’re on your back quicker than you can blink, stomach surging with it. You hardly have any time to react, Logan punching all the air out of your lungs as he sets a brutal pace.

The sudden intensity has you gasping, your body jolting as he takes over, fucking you like his life depends on it.

Each thrust is hard and deep, hitting the spot inside of you, over and over again until you’re a trembling mess above him, moaning his name, your nails digging into his chest.

Logan’s grip on you is ironclad, pulling you back onto him harder, faster, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he loses himself completely in the heat of your body.

"That's it," you pant, feeling the way your body tightens around him, the tension building deep inside you. "Fuck, Logan, just like that—"

He growls again, the sound vibrating through his chest as he slams into you harder, his pace relentless. You can feel the sweat slick between your bodies, hear the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies coming together as his control snaps completely.

“Mine,” he growls between thrusts, voice low and rough as he pounds into you, his eyes locked on yours, full of possessive need. "All fuckin’ mine."

Your body responds to his words, tightening around him as your orgasm builds, every nerve in your body on fire. "Yes," you gasp, your voice barely more than a broken moan as he hits that perfect spot again and again. "Yours—only yours."

Slowly, deliberately, you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down on the pad of your thumb hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

The scent of iron fills the space between you, mixing with the musk of sex and sweat. Logan’s nostrils flare as he takes in the scent, his pupils dilating further, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You raise your thumb to his mouth, sliding it along his bottom lip to leave behind a thin trail of red. “Suck,” you whisper softly, pressing your thumb into his mouth ever so slightly.

And he does, without hesitation.

Logan’s lips part, and he pulls your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the taste of your blood. The look in his eyes as he does sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

The pure devotion of the act thickening the air around you to coil the spring of pleasure winding in your lower stomach tighter.

You groan, your own restraint folding like a house of cards as you drag your nose down the column of his throat, stopping right at the base. You press a quick kiss over the rapid fluttering of his pulse before you bite down, hard.

Logan keens around your thumb, teeth digging into your skin roughly as his blood floods your mouth.

You get lost in it, the familiar taste of him seeping onto your tongue as his cock jerks and pulses in your clenching cunt. Getting lost in the way you can feel the rhythm of his heart against your lips, each strong beat sending more blood pumping out to leak along your taste buds.

You press your chest to his, not leaving an inch of space between you. It’s still not enough, it will never be enough.

You need more, so much more.

You want to encompass him completely, to be encompassed by him.

You want to dig your hands into his skin–to peel back each layer of flesh and fat and muscle, snap each of his ribs back so you can bury yourself in the cavity of his chest before you bend them back into place. Burrowing yourself deep enough inside him to watch him heal all around you, to watch his skin stitch itself back together.

It’s a sick feeling, the need to take and take until he has no more left to give. Sick and all consuming, lighting you up like the raging flames of a forest fire that destroys everything in its path.

When you finally pull your hand away from his mouth, he lets out a breathless moan, and you lean down to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss.

The coppery tang of your blood lingers between you, mixing with Logan’s as your teeth clash together violently, as you devour him, pouring every ounce of your control into the kiss.

You press your palm to his chest, powers surging to life over his heart. You don't need to open your eyes to see what you leave behind, the red and blue pulse of his blood lighting up beneath his skin like the neon sign hanging outside his favorite bar.

Logan moans into your mouth, tongue dragging along the point of your canines. "Don't stop," he pleads, “Please, baby, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You can feel the energy coursing between you, a tangible thing that's threading itself between your fingers. It’s intoxicating, a connection deeper than flesh, a binding of souls fueled by blood and lust. You lean into the heat radiating from him, urging your energy to flow freely, wrapping it around his heart like a warm embrace.

“Logan,” you whisper breathily, breaking the kiss just enough to look into his wild, pleading eyes. “You feel that? You and me, we’re connected.”

“I feel it, honey,” he groans, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper. “You’re everywhere. It’s all I can think about all the goddamn time, drives me fuckin’ crazy.” His words tumble from his lips, raw and unfiltered, sending another thrill of desire through you.

You whine, head tipping back to the ceiling. Drunk of the feeling of him, of his cock, of his blood on your teeth.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church.

There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of him like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship.

Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion.

The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips.

His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin.

The sound of your name falling from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered.

You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. His blood, mixing with yours on your tongue feels like a sacrament—an unholy communion.

The air between you crackles with heat, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Logan’s head tilts back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he claws at your hips, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“I’m close,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “Please—fuck—I need to—”

You reach up quickly, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “Look at me when you fuck me,” you demand, your voice sharp, dripping with authority. “I want you to watch me when you come.”

That’s all it takes.

Logan’s entire body goes taut, a strangled roar tearing from his throat as he buries himself inside you one last time, the force of his release crashing through him. The hot spray of his come floods your insides, drenching your walls in thick spurts of white.

His hands grip you so tightly you’re sure there’ll be bruises blooming later, but you don’t care. You wish they wouldn’t fade. You want them. You want to wear his mark, to feel the evidence of this moment lingering on your skin long after it’s over.

His hips don’t stop even as he comes, a sharp cry ripping its way from his throat as he keeps fucking you, pumping you full of him like he can’t stop.

When you feel him start to lose control like that, feel the frantic twitch of his cock inside you, you finally let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The force of it rips a scream from your throat as you clench around him, your body spasming with the intensity of it.

Your abused cunt gushes around his cock to seep into the mattress, soaking both the sheets and his lower body all at once as you let out a weak mutter of his name.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged, uneven breathing between you as you both come down from the high. Logan collapses on the bed, arms circling your waist to drag you along with him. His cock stays inside of you, plugging you full of his come.

Your body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Logan is warm and grounding under you, soft and lax. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your cheek, and you press a soft kiss to the skin there, a silent reminder.

His hand comes up to thread through your hair, his touch gentle now, his body relaxed in a way that it wasn’t before.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heartache.

You smile, soft and secretive in the valley of his pecs, “I love you too.”

It’s a quiet admission, the first time you’ve ever said that to each other with words. The first time you both felt the need to, because it’s nothing you didn’t already know.

Your blood dripping from his teeth lays the same claim over you as his come dripping down your thighs.

It means you're his, and he’s yours.

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pretty-little-mind33 · 9 months ago

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Kraven The Hunter x fem!reader

Summary: You meet a dangerous stranger in the woods...

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: kinda dark but still tame, cheating (reader), unprotected sex (pls use contraceptives in real life!), oral sex (m receiving), praise kink, degradation kink, rough sex, riding, he spits in reader's mouth 👀, kissing (duh), fingering, light misogyny, ik he has a name but i use Kraven in this, bad russian google translate maybe (I AM SO SORRY I DID MY BEST—if you speak Russian and have any suggestions… please 🙏 ) LISTEN…I'M SORRY LIKE I COULD NOT RESIST WRITING FOR HIM…HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? Probably NOT comic accurate…

SERGEI KRAVINOFF MASTERLIST

You don't know what you hate more at the moment—your boyfriend or the continuous sweat forming on your hairline from the dampness and heat. It's becoming dark outside, which should cool the air and help with the heat but not as much with how pissed you are at Chris.

With a small squeal, you stumble on the roots of a tree, gasping as your ankle twists awkwardly in your hiking shoes and the buzz of an insect flies around your ear. You swat your hand near your cheekbone. You're holding the branches you'd found in one arm now as the stickiness of the air makes your skin feel heavy.

Screw you bugs!

Screw you woods!

And most of all screw you Chris!

You're too immersed in your hatred that you don't realize you've fallen into an animal trap until it's too late. You scream, the branches falling from your arm as your body folds and the net wraps around you, pulling you up into the air. The rope burns your exposed skin as you squirm. This had to be a nightmare, some sick cruel joke Chris is playing on you. You half hope he'll jump out from behind the bushes and laugh in your face.

You wait in silence for a moment but your boyfriend doesn't show up.

"Help!" You scream out helplessly, "Is anyone there? Please, I-I'm trapped," you call.

"Hmm, yes, that is the point of one of those," a deep voice drawls from behind you and you wince. You try to strain your neck to look at the newcomer but you can't move enough to see who it is. It certainly isn't Chris. Chris doesn't sound like that.

"Please, can you help me?" you plead shamelessly now.

Your heart is beating so hard. You hear the creak of leaves and dirt as whoever stands behind you walks closer to you. You feel them turn the entire net around and soon you're face to face with dark piercing golden eyes. A color you can only describe as supernatural.

"Now why would I help you? You stumbled into my trap—that makes you my prize."

The man is tall and strong. His shoulders are broad and his hair curls messily across his forehead. He's wearing an open vest made of brown leather and adorned with fur, thick leather bracers, and a necklace where three animal teeth hang.

You concentrate on the sharpness of the teeth for a while, ignoring how very much shirtless the man is against them, but eventually you lose focus as with a swift motion, he uses a knife he'd taken from his belt to cut the net and you crash to the ground.

Immediately, the dirt sticks to your sweaty skin as you scramble up onto your feet. You brush hair from your face and stumble back, almost falling again until the man's large, calloused hand finds your forearm and he holds you still. "Calm down," he says hoarsely, his eyes narrowing and his grip tightening.

"You don't wanna run from me, gorgeous. Clearly, you don't know your left and right around here but I do. So, stay still for me so I can think about what I'm gonna do with you."

He has a thick accent and you find yourself nodding. He drops your arm and you don't move. You look up at him as he looks around, rubbing his hand over his jaw like he's debating his next moves. You can see his knife, which he has secured into his belt again, glistens with blood and your stomach churns.

"Please don't hurt me," you whisper.

The man stares at you blankly, his eyebrows crease as he looks you up and down. After a moment, the corners of his lips curl upwards and he moves closer. You squeeze your eyes shut, scared, and you gasp inaudibly as a tear escapes you.

The man's thumb wipes it away, his hand cupping your cheek and he speaks a language you don't understand—russian you assume—"Я бы никогда не подумал причинить тебе боль, (I would never dream of hurting you)," His tone seems sweeter than how he'd spoken before but all hopes of him translating what he'd said disappear when he asks:

"Why are you out here all alone?"

You recover from his touch as it leaves you and you try and explain, "I'm not alone. My boyfriend," you turn to look behind you but all you see is the trees and hear the rustling of animals in the shadows, "is around here somewhere," you finish.

"He left you? Alone? Now? It's almost dark," the man accuses as if it had been your choice.

"I- I was supposed to bring branches for the fire," you say quickly, gesturing to the branches that had fallen from your arms. The man looks where you're pointing and chuckles darkly.

"Oh, милый (darling), those aren't branches. Those aren't even twigs."

You glare at him, not finding it funny at all, "Well, I couldn't carry the heavier ones," you defend and the man interrupts with another chuckle.

"Ah," he smirks, "so why was it you who went out? Can your man not care for you properly?"

You scrunch your nose, "What's that supposed to mean?"

The man's smirk turns into a smile, his teeth showing, and you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach as he smiles. He's handsome—almost too handsome for someone who looks like they live in the woods.

"I mean," he drawls, leaning in even closer, "what kind of man allows his woman to do all his labor, leaving her on her lonesome and vulnerable to bad men like me?" Your breath hitches and your eyes widen when he finishes, "Your man is a pathetic little boy who doesn't deserve a woman like you."

Your mind races. You want to defend Chris, tell this man that Chirs is an amazing, loving, boyfriend—but another part of you can't deny Chris had basically coerced you onto this hike, on your birthday nonetheless, and then promptly abandoned you to fend for yourself.

However, those details weren't what your mind latched onto. No. As you stare at the handsome stranger, his words ring in your ears; "bad men like me"

The man can tell and he chuckles, "Don't look so scared. I like you. You're the most entertainment I've had in a while. Come," he beckons you over, turning around and gathering his net over his shoulder. When you don't follow instantly he calls out, "I can offer you shelter and food, and a fire," he adds with a glance over his shoulder, "Unless you'd rather find your way back to your boyfriend. Your choice, милый (darling)."

So, you end up in the man's home. The man—who had finally introduced himself as Kraven— lives in a small cabin that's obviously been worn out by time and weather. All the furniture looks barely used—as if there hasn't been life inside this cabin for a long time.

Kraven's hospitality is coarse and oddly demanding as he pours you some honey tea he made himself and hands you some bread. You don't complain, you're starving. As Kraven makes a fire, he mumbles things in Russian and occasionally he'll look over at you, sending a shiver up your spine. Your hair is wet from the shower you just had and the strands stick to your cheeks.

Your mind wanders to Chris. Is he okay? It is a warmer night—so he really shouldn't freeze to death. You feel guilty for having accepted Kraven's offer but your thoughts are interrupted by the fire starting and Kraven stands. He runs a hand in his curls and drops his vest on the couch near you. You look up, suddenly extra aware of how shirtless and toned he is.

"Продолжай смотреть на меня так, и у меня не будет другого выбора, кроме как трахнуть тебя прямо здесь и сейчас, милый, (Keep looking at me like that and I'll have no choice but to fuck you right here and now, darling)," Kraven says in a growl and the only word you recognize is the last one since he's used it a few times.

"What does милый mean?" you ask, attempting to pronounce the word but fumbling it. Kraven smirks and tilts his head as he walks closer until he's sitting next to you.

"It's a term of endearment," he chuckles, "like darling—or honey."

You feel your cheeks burn. It's almost worse to hear him explain the term rather than just using it. You look down at your hands, feeling Kraven's warmth next to you. He smells like pine-wood and ashes and the scent is invading. You feel safer near him then you'd ever felt in Chris's arms. Guilt settles in your stomach again.

"Ты так сладко пахнешь. (you smell so sweet)," Kraven says again and his hand comes up to move some stray hairs behind your ear. The air shifts and sexual tension settles around you and the feeling dances across your skin with fervor.

You don't dare turn your head to look at him, afraid of how he's staring. "What does that all mean? The Russian?" you mutter.

"It means I want to kiss you, doll," Kraven chuckles and his hand cups your chin and he turns your head so you're staring at him. Your eyes are round and he chuckles, "what do you say милый (darling)? Will you indulge me? I wanna see if you taste as good as I think you do."

Your heart jumps in your throat and suddenly you feel very small compared to him. Your eyes flicker to his lips and then up to look into his eyes. They sparkle darkly and you wonder if anyone has ever been able to say no to those eyes. You surely won't be the first. You nod.

Kraven leans in and captures your lips with passion so fierce you're afraid your lips will bruise. Still, they slide across his easily and it's as if you've been molded for one another. Kraven's hands tighten in your hair, bunching up the strands so he can control your head movements. Control. His entire demeanor screams control.

"Good girl," he mutters with a smirk against your lips and his hands move to grip your hips. You're wearing some shorts and a shirt you found in the bedroom when you changed from your shower.

You gasp as he helps you up and you straddle him now. With a humph, he lifts up his hips and slides his knife holster to the side so it isn't digging into your thigh or his. He grins wolfishly, continuing to kiss you. His lips trail up your neck and near your ear.

It never felt like this with Chris. Sure, it had been fine—it had been good even in the beginning—but this? No, nothing could compare to this.

Kraven's hands are large and strong against your skin as he kneads your waist and ass. "Ты такая хорошая девушка для меня (You're such a good girl for me)," he whispers, his voice hoarse, and as attractive as it is, you whine and furrow your brows.

"Please, don't talk in Russian anymore. I can't understand you," you pout, pulling him closer as you unconsciously grind your hips into his for more friction. "I wanna understand you,"

Kraven grips your hips harder and rolls them onto him, earning him a soft moan that falls from your lips. "Alright, darling, alright," he smiles and kisses you again. "Tell me, do'you want more from me? Seems like you do," he grinds your hips again, punctuating his words as he teases you mercilessly.

You are at loss for words. This is wrong. You're cheating on your boyfriend, you try to remind yourself, with a man you met in the woods. But if this is so wrong, why does it feel so good? You moan. You desperately want to slide your shorts and panties down to allow even more friction on your clit. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you must look so needy.

Kraven hooks his fingers in your waistband, running his thumb over your hip, reading your mind, "Is this what you want, darling? You wanna rub yourself on me like a little slut?"

The insult shouldn't be as hot as it is, but when it's followed by a searing kiss, the word is honey on his tongue. You moan and drop your head in the crook of his neck, grasping onto his shoulders as you lift your hips so he can easily slide your panties and shorts down. "Please," you whisper, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders.

Kraven smirks and, as he holds your nape with one hand, he uses the other and finds your pussy. He explores your folds, wanting to make sure you're wet and ready for him. He rubs your clit, earning him smaller, more high pitched sounds from your parted lips as your wetness seeps over his hand.

Kraven teases you for a little while longer, murmuring praises in your ear until he suddenly spreads his legs and you fall to your knees in front of the couch. You gasp, looking up at him from the ground.

He looks majestic, sitting there, as if the couch was his throne and he was a King.

Kraven's smirk widens as he fists one hand in your hair, using his other hand to lick his fingers clean of your arousal and then swiftly unbuckle his belt. He stares at you as he does this and tilts his head. "D'you do this for your boyfriend, gorgeous?" Kraven seems amused by the word boyfriend, as if it's some game to him.

You nod, sinking onto your heels as you watch Kraven pull out his cock. He's big and hard and your eyes widen. "D'you like doing this?" he asks, his voice low. You catch his eye and shake your head honestly. You didn't like giving Chris head—but Chris's dick didn't look like this. Your eyes snap up to Kraven's cock.

"You'll like it with me," he adds, smirking, and guides your head to his cock. You let him, having no complaints as you take him in your mouth. You're nervous at first, unsure of what to do, but soon you gain more confidence as you try and take him even deeper.

You gag a little and Kraven just tightens his hand in your hair.

"You can take it. I know you can, doll. There," he coos, clearly enjoying your work as you adjust your mouth around him. "There, yeah. That's my good girl." Kraven grunts out the word "my" and warmth pools in your stomach. You moan around his cock, sucking faster as if to respond yes, I am yours.

With a pop, he pulls your head away and tilts your chin. He helps you up to straddle him again, keeping you eye level as he positions his cock at your entrance. He squeezes your cheeks, opening your lips, and then spits into your mouth before claiming your lips again. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him against you and he sinks you down onto him.

"Can you feel me, милый (darling)?" he grunts, moving you on his cock slowly, torturing you. He chuckles darkly when you whine.

"Mmh," is the only sound you make as he fills you up. It feels so good.

"You feel full, hm?" Kraven taunts, moving your hips a little faster as his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise. He pulls one away a moment and rips your shirt, attaching his lips to your hardened nipples as you squeal.

"Yes, oh, I feel so full," you whimper, bouncing up on him, helping him so you can go even faster and deeper. "Shit, you're so big."

"Шлюха (slut)," he groans, the word slipping past his lips in ecstasy as he kisses and sucks across your chest. You whine, wanting him to tell you what the word means so you can understand him but Kraven smirks. He kisses your collarbone and then, using his strength, he easily flips you over so you're laying on the couch and he's on top of you now.

Kraven sinks his cock back into you as he snaps his hips hard. You gasp, wrapping your arms around him and your nails slide up and down his back, and he groans with pleasure at the sting.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck please," you plead, eyes rolling as your body shivers.

"You're so tight around me. As if you were made just for me," he says as he continues to fuck into you. "Does your boyfriend fuck you this good?" Kraven asks, his accent thicker as he loses himself in the pleasure. His hand comes to wrap around your jaw as he holds you in place under him.

You shake your head.

"Слова (Words)," he growls but then curses and says, "Words, darling. Tell me."

"N-no. He doesn't fuck me this good," you whisper as Kraven's cock slides into you. You're so wet and he's so hard and this is so so wrong.

"Yeah? You gonna run back to him now, bunny?" he snarls and nips as your earlobe. He thrusts harder and smirks at the pet name. "Hmm. run little bunny, back to your poor excuse of a boyfriend? No," Kraven grunts, as if he's made a decision, "I'm keeping you, doll. I can take care of you better than he can."

You moan at this and nod, "Please," you whisper, feeling your thighs clench around him as you can feel your orgasm approaching.

Kraven feels it too. "You're squeezing around me, Шлюха (slut), do you wanna come?" Kraven teases and his thrusts slow. You whine and look at him, your eyes becoming teary from need. You nod.

He laughs and kisses your lips with a grin, "Alright, you can come. Go on, let yourself come all over my cock," he smirks against your skin as his sharp teeth nip at your neck.

You whine, letting your body finally relax as you come. You gasp, your eyes rolling from pleasure as your legs feel like jello. Kraven finishes inside you with a grunt and you whimper at the feeling.

He smiles as you sink into the cushions and your eyes flutter. His large hand comes to hold behind your head as he pulls you up and leans you against his chest.

While Kraven's touch is comforting, it's also possessive and claiming. His thumb strokes over your hair and his lips kiss your head. He's holding you so close you're almost afraid he'll never let you go. You sigh when he slides out and picks you up in his arms as he stands.

"Good girl," he mutters as he walks you to the bathroom and adds, "You did so well for me." You let yourself relax in his arms as he promises he'll be here from now on. You're his now.

You're so blissed out from your orgasm that your mind doesn't understand what that truly means. Instead, you shut your eyes and let him take care of you and, with a small smile, you think,

Happy. Fucking. Birthday. To. Me.

#kraven the hunter #kraven x reader #kraven the hunter x reader #kraven the hunter x y/n #kraven the hunter x fem!reader #kraven the hunter x you #kraven the hunter movie #marvel #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson fic #aaron taylor johnson fanfiction #marvel kraven the hunter #marvel movies #sony movies #spiderman #tw smut #tw dark themes

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gutterfuuck · 8 months ago

Note

Can I request a mark drabble w/ breeding kink 👉👈 I'd love either bff mark or sinister mark but if you go the sinister route can I be a bit of a coward and ask that he be a little. Softer. Maybe specifically for the reader bc I am a little pansy and I get unrealistically offended when I'm condescended or treated like property, and while it would be hot if this man talked down to me I would also be inclined to punch him in the baby maker and then we'd all suffer bc no smut would ensue 😭

Sorry, I just dumped a bit of unwarranted baggage on u there but you come off as really sweet in all your posts so I hope it didn't bother you too much! Thank you for all of your posts btw your writing is delicious! Also your English is very good, you have a great grasp of the language and I respect and appreciate all the effort you must put into making all of your writing so articulate. English especially is said to be very hard to learn so I immensely respect the effort that goes into it, regardless of any/how much help you require/accept to do so. Manifesting a mild inconvenience to that anon a while back who accused you of faking for some reason I hope they step on a wet kitchen tile while wearing socks or something and rethink how they choose to speak to people online. 😊♡

hello anon!! thank you so much for your considerations, maybe it is because i am emotional since i get very choked up when it is birthday season but this had made me cry happy tears 😭😭 also, i agree!! if anyone was to talk to me like i am disposable in real life, i think that i would break down and disintegrate haha!! it is not cowardly to ask for things, do not be swayed!! baggage is never unwanted here, i am the baggage 😂!! i will do the upmost of my best ability, as i have been waiting to write for s!mark again 🤭🤭 also, i do agree people should be more mindful about what they say to others! you never know what anyone is going through, just because you can hide behind a screen mask doesn’t mean you should or can be mean to people!! i do not judge those who do though, they will learn as months and years pass, people do learn and change!!

cw: mdni, smut, breeding kink, just a little drable to warm up my fingers hehe!! minor injury, reader patches him up

you could hear your husband come crashing through the juliet balcony of your bedroom, bumping into the bed and waking you up fully. you bolted up, scanning the darkness of the room and staring at the silhouette of your lover, crouched over in the shadows. “mark?” you peep, eyes still adjusting as you clicked on the bedside lamp, your eyes instantly closing when the brightness took you by surprise.

he looks back at you, pulling his mask with its flimsy broken black goggles off of his face and discarding it to the floor with a heavy sigh. mark always found it so cute how you’d gasp with your hands flying to cover your mouth when he returned with an injury, your worried eyes looking him over as you jump out from under the covers, hands flying up to cover his cheeks and observe his cut nose bridge, one of his eyes squinted due to the budding bruise on his upper cheekbone, “gonna nurse me back to health, baby?” he asks, smiling down at you and placing a kiss to your forehead. he listens to you lecture him about being careful when visiting other planets, rolling his eyes like he’d really just die like that. you knew he was tough, but it didn’t hurt to be concerned.

he sits on the side of the bathtub in the bathroom, tilting his face to the side so you could rub his injuries down with antiseptic solution, mumbling something about how he was still half human so he still had to be a little careful. he didn’t know how many times he’d had to tell you that even though he was still half human everything else was 100% brutal alien. each time he told you, you ignored it. maybe you liked patching him up, placing cute bandages on his face to stop his bleeding. he was hardly injured but he’d be damned if he didn’t let his cute little wife dote on him like this, the sleeves of your fluffy gown he’d bought home for you rolled up your arms as you fiddle with the first aid kit.

“y’know what’d me me feel better?” mark says, taking your hands into his. god, he could just crush you right now, you were so adorable. you hum in response, intertwining your fingers with his as he brings them to his lips, trailing kisses up your arm and pulling you closer, inching towards you slowly. your mouth hangs open with a breathless silent mewl as his lips stop just by your jawline, finding it hard to hold himself back from nipping your skin and marking you up. you nod at his earlier question which draws a chuckle from him, hands moving down to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, “let’s go to bed, then.”

you’ve got your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto his back as he pistoned his hips in and out of your tight heat, never being shameful of your moans. music to his ears, he thought, letting you cry out so desperately into the night. if you had neighbours you’re sure they’d complain. he groaned when he felt you clench around him, muscled thighs stuttering for a moment as you suffocated his cock within your walls. “oh, babygirl-“ he tilts his head back, holding you firmly as your legs wrap around his waist, practically bouncing you up and down on his dick himself, “m-mark..-!” you squeal, voice raspy and throat dry when you feel him buck up into your g-spot, weeping head poking at it repeatedly, trying to pull your orgasm out of you. you whine loudly, holding onto him like you’d fall apart if you let go.

“shhh, s’okay, hold onto me like that, there we go.” mark comforts you, such a strange comparison from when he’s out causing mayhem to now. if those who opposed him were to see him right now, they’d think he’d be a different person. he was so soft with you, treated you like you were made of porcelain and you loved it. you were glad that you’d somehow tamed him in a way, molded him into your perfect husband as he made you into his perfect wife. domestic bliss.

you stifle your noises with his shoulder, softly biting on it as he snapped his hips up into yours vigorously, his own orgasm approaching hard and fast. you could feel the way his cock throbbed inside of you, the way he slowed his hips a little before trying to keep up his pace. “so tight, always so perfect n’ tight f’me, aren’t you?” you nod brainlessly into his shoulder and he coos at you, eyebrows furrowed together as he gasps lightly.

“i’m gonna cum, princess.” he says breathlessly, humping against you for his own orgasm, “inside…” you whisper to him and he almost loses it right there, almost falls over when he thinks about the implications it might have. “inside? yeah-fuck, gonna let me cum inside, just for me?” mark pants, pussydrunk figure caging you in under him as he chases his orgasm, “gimme a kid… f-fuck, gimme a baby, wanna make you a mama… g’na look so perfect— fuh-uck..!” he babbles, vision blanking as he cums inside of you, wave after wave of his warm seed spilling into your cunt, seeping into your womb. he canted his hips a few more times, almost fucking himself into overstimulation as he continued talking, “..gonna give me a mini me, huh? complete our little family?” he asks as you nod in agreement, too fucked out to even process what he’d said to you just now.

#💬 sparkie is typing…#mark grayson x reader #dark blog #mark grayson smut #invincible x reader #invincible smut #sinister!mark

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salstray · 4 months ago

Text

No Vacancy

Eric Coulter x gn!reader fic

less then 1k words (951 if you want to be specific) WARNINGS: angst

No one is safe from progress. No one is safe from Erudite. No one is safe from the mindless Dauntless carrying out commands they can't even hear, but can only feel through the iron claws of the serum forcefully injected into their blood.

No one is safe.

Not even you, Eric's favorite.

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

Four was looking out the windows of the Prior home when he saw you.

Tris was upstairs, calling out to her mom and her dad, nothing but silence answering her, but you were out in the street. Dressed in black, a gun in your hand, your eyes blank and face slack. Enthralled by the simulation just like the rest of them.

He’d never admit to anyone how his heart sank at the sight.

Not even you were safe from this. You, Eric’s favorite. His poorly kept secret that all of the Dauntless knew about, but would never speak of. The one he’d sneak off to on lonely nights, the one he’d hunt down in the dark corners of the parties and the gatherings. You, who’d gone through initiation just a year after him and Four. Who’d stolen the black heart of their most ruthless leader yet with your strength, your fearlessness, and your bravery.

You. Injected and shipped off as a mindless puppet of war. Like you were nothing.

Four took a shaky breath, his jaw shifting and clenching at the anger that swelled within him. His head turned as Tris came back down the stairs, telling him her parents weren’t here. No one was. He cast one more glance out towards you just as you turned a corner and vanished from sight. Silently, he pitied you, but he didn’t have the time to show it. Nor did he ever think he’d get the chance to express it face to face.

God knows how you’d feel once you woke up. Once the simulation wore off or was shut down, if he and Tris did what he hoped they could.

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

Eric rounded the corner, steps light, shoulders loose, only pausing once his eyes landed on you. His prize, his plaything.

His favorite.

You marched on, face empty, hands clenched around your weapon, eyes focused, but not on anything real. His hand came out as you approached and you stopped obediently in place, gaze fixed on something only you could see in the far distance. Behind him, Max stepped forward, sighing and shaking his head.

“No one’s safe, are they?” he asked, almost teasing.

“Not from progress,” Eric admitted. He reached forward, cupping your cheeks in his hands, brushing his thumbs under the circles of your eyes. If you were awake, you’d have smiled. All sweet and sugary. In a way that no one ever had when looking at Eric. He sighed softly when your eyes remained vacant. “You’ll understand though, won’t you?” he asked, now talking to you.

Max scoffed behind him, but Eric’s eyes stayed on yours, the only proof he heard his fellow leader being the slight tick of his jaw.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Max warned. Finally, Eric turned his sharp, gray eyes on the man behind him, frowning just far enough that Max knew his commentary wasn’t welcome. He scoffed again before shoulder passed both you and the man you called your lover in the past.

“I am sure,” Eric hissed, leaning in to press an uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’ll understand, won’t you, sweetheart?” His fingers curled across the nap of your neck, his pinkies absentmindedly toying with the collar of your jacket. “This is all for the betterment of the city. Of the factions. A necessary evil, hm? How many times have we talked about those? You always told me you understood why they were important. Doing something bad in the name of the greater good , right? That’s what this is… and you’ll see that once you wake up, babe, I’m sure of it.” He leaned in again, lips barely brushing your crown, his eyes closing just long enough so he could enjoy the warmth of your flesh. The heat under your skin. One that he craved more then water, more then his own breath.

He’d tried to let you be awake for it all. Tried to fight for you to be one of the ones left unstuck, but they hadn’t trusted you enough, the others. Jeanine said you’d be a liability. Max said your loyalty didn’t run as deep as Eric thought it did.

You wouldn’t be happy once you came out of it, but he’d be there. Eric would be there, he’d make sure of it, so he could explain. So he could hold you – just like he was now – and speak the way he did only for you about how necessary it all was. Even if you didn’t understand he would make you… because if you didn’t…

... you had to.

He leaned away, sighing heavily, a noise half trapped in his throat as he let his hands slide down your face, the column of your throat, then back to his sides.

“Go on,” he muttered, taking a single step to the side to let you pass.

You did. Steady as all the rest. Eric sighed again as he turned to catch up with Max, his jaw clenched and brow furrowed.

He hated seeing you like that, though he’d never admit that to anyone.

He would have hated it more to see how your eyes fluttered once he was out of sight. How your breath hitched in your chest, your heart racing, beating against your ribs like a war drum. It would have broke his heart to see the tears that lined your lashes as you turned another corner, pausing just long enough to lean your shoulder against it and press your hand to your mouth to stifle the sob that tried to crawl its way free from between your teeth.

He would have hated to know that the serum didn’t work.

That you were the very thing they were trying to eradicate.

That you were Divergent .

#divergent #eric coulter #eric x reader #eric coulter x reader #eric coulter imagine #divergent fanfiction #insurgent #Four divergent #Tris Divergent #my works

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magical-reid · 22 days ago

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Worth Staying For

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Setting: Post-Hogwarts, during a quiet moment at Feldcroft

Word Count: 83

Prompt: 9: “If I asked you to stay, would you?”

26: “I’ll be damned if anyone makes you feel like you aren’t worthy of being loved.”

Summary: As the golden sunset bathes Feldcroft, you stand with Sebastian Sallow, both weighed down by past pain and unresolved emotions. In a moment of vulnerability, Sebastian confesses his fear of losing you, and you assure him that, despite the struggles, you will stay by his side, ready to face whatever comes together.

The dusty golden glow of the setting sun bathed the rolling hills of Feldcroft, a quiet village that rarely felt calm these days. You stood at the edge of the Sallow property, gazing out at the horizon, a cool breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers. It would’ve been beautiful, peaceful even, had your mind not been spinning.

Behind you, footsteps crunched across the dry earth. Sebastian Sallow appeared beside you, his silhouette darker against the waning light. He didn’t speak at first—just stood there, hands shoved into his coat pockets as if unsure where to start.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, watching the way his jaw tensed. There was always something about Sebastian, a boy who had endured far too much pain for someone his age. You both had.

“You’re quiet today,” you finally said softly.

“Am I?” he muttered, his voice low and distant.

“Yes. It’s unlike you.”

Sebastian huffed out a laugh, though it lacked any real humor. “Even I get tired of hearing myself talk sometimes.”

You turned your head fully then, facing him as the wind tugged lightly at his dark hair. “What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the horizon before settling on you. “You’ve been spending a lot of time away from Feldcroft. From me.”

You blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. “I—”

“Not that I can blame you,” he cut in, shaking his head, almost like he didn’t want to hear your explanation. “Feldcroft is a dreary place. People here can be cruel. Distrustful. You don’t deserve that. You deserve better than…this.”

He gestured vaguely to the broken land surrounding you, a place scarred by both time and the lingering effects of his past mistakes.

“Sebastian,” you started, your voice firm, “that’s not why—”

“Then why do you leave?” He looked at you, really looked at you, his brown eyes full of a vulnerability he rarely let show. It made your chest ache.

“I…” You faltered. You had been away more often lately. Not because you didn’t want to be near him, but because the weight of his guilt, his self-loathing, made it hard to breathe sometimes. You hated seeing him like this, punishing himself for things he couldn’t change. For things he wasn’t to blame for.

“I know I’ve made mistakes,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hoarse. “Merlin knows I’ll spend the rest of my life paying for them. But I’ll be damned if anyone—anyone—makes you feel like you aren’t worthy of being loved. Including me.”

The words struck you like a thunderclap, sudden and powerful.

“Sebastian—”

“No, listen to me.” He stepped closer, his face set in determination even as his hands trembled slightly. “I know you don’t believe it sometimes. That you feel like you don’t belong here, or anywhere. But you do. You belong here…with me.”

Your throat tightened, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. For so long, you’d felt like you were caught in between—torn between staying close to the boy who meant everything to you and running from the pain that came with it.

“If I asked you to stay,” he said, his voice breaking slightly, “would you?”

The question hung in the air between you, fragile and desperate. You looked into his eyes, saw the quiet plea there, and realized the truth of it all. Despite everything—despite his guilt, his grief, and the scars the two of you carried—you couldn’t imagine walking away.

“Of course I would,” you said softly, stepping toward him. “Sebastian, I’m not leaving. I never planned to leave.”

The tension in his shoulders eased, and for the first time in weeks, you saw the faint flicker of a smile at the corner of his lips. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” you murmured. “Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”

He looked at you like you’d just lifted a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and brushed his fingers against your cheek, as if testing whether you were real.

“You’re far too good for me, you know,” he said, his voice soft now.

“And you’re an idiot if you think I’d let you decide that.”

Sebastian let out a short, choked laugh, and the sound warmed you more than the setting sun ever could. His hand cupped your cheek fully now, thumb brushing against your skin as he looked at you with something that felt so close to hope.

“You’re not allowed to leave me, you know,” he whispered.

You smiled faintly, reaching up to place your hand over his. “Then stop giving me reasons to.”

For the first time in a long time, Sebastian leaned in, resting his forehead against yours as the two of you stood there, the world fading into the background. Whatever came next, you knew this—he—was worth staying for.

And you always would.

#sebastian sallow x reader #Sebastian sallow #Hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow reader insert #reader insert #sebastian sallow imagine #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy imagines #magical-Reid #requested #prompted

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spiralsdrop · 10 months ago

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This is a hypnosis story I've always loved. If anyone knows who the author is I would love to give them the credit they deserve for this.

“My friends and I were at a bar across town. It was dark, a little loud, underground, with dim red lights and drinks that cost too much. But there were lots of plush little booths and we managed to snag ourselves a corner, so we sat and got deep into drinking and chatting.

After an hour or so, there was a big commotion going on in one corner with people falling around laughing. Before we saw what was going on, everyone involved had stumbled away hooting and giggling. But my friend Rachel leads me over and there’s this young guy kind of holding court.

“What’s going on?” Rachel asks, over the music.

“Oh, I’m hypnotising people,” he says, casually, like people do that all the time.

“For real? You’re a hypnotist?”

“Yes I am,” he says.

Rachel thinks this is hysterical. I think it sounds ridiculous.

“We should dooooooo this!” she says, waving over the two other friends we’re out with.

“Should we?”

“We should! YOU should.”

“I don’t think so,” I say, but she’s already tugging on this guy’s arm… and pushing me towards him.

“Hypnotise Emma!”

“Yeah?”

“She REALLY wants to!”

He looks at me.

“Do you want to?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I’m un-hypnotisable.”

“Well,” he says. “Wanna find out?”

“You can try,” I say. I’m smirking a little bit. Silly me.

“Well, OK then. Here, take a seat.”

Like I said, I thought it was ridiculous.

There are two small wooden chairs facing each other and I sit in one. I smooth down the short, tight little dress I’m wearing. He – neat grey t-shirt, jeans, a tattoo of swirling black lines, like a soundwave, on one arm, a mischievous sparkle in his deep brown eyes, like someone who’s just had a sinfully good idea – sits on the other one, pulls it closer so our knees are almost touching. I’m a little nervous… but determined not to let it show.

“OK,” he says. He takes my arms and places them on the arm of my chair, palms up. He holds my hands with his and gives them a reassuring squeeze.

“You OK?”

“I’m fine.”

“This is going to be fun, OK?”

“Well, if you say so.”

Three of my friends are now gathered watching us. I hear Rachel say “I bet she thinks she’s a chicken five minutes from now.”

He lets go of my hands and wraps his gently around my wrists, his thumb on each, like he’s taking my pulse. He starts talking to me low and urgently, looking into my eyes warmly.

“So what’s your name?”

“Emma.”

“Where are we?”

“A bar.”

“What colour are the lights here?”

“Red.”

“Only red?”

“Some white.”

“What’s your name again?”

“Emma.”

”OK, Emma. We’re good.”

His thumbs are tracing circles on my skin.

His questions became… rhetorical. Think of my feet on the floor. Were they heavy? Did it feel good to just rest them there? Doesn’t it feel warm? Isn’t the chair comfortable?

It did feel comfortable. It felt like the second when an elevator stops descending and you’re that little bit heavier. I felt warm like sinking into a fresh bath. He put his hand on my bare shoulder. It felt solid and good.

Didn’t I feel calm? Isn’t it nice? Try closing my eyes. Keep listening to his voice. Even raised over the music is voice, is like a heavy blanket on a lazy Sunday. His hand slides to rest under my hair, on the back of my neck. Weren’t my wrists relaxed? Like they could rest on the arms of the chair forever. His other hand taps out a rhythm on my knee. Calm like warm sunshine on my skin. The sounds around me drift off into a dull hubbub. This was more relaxing than I th…

…I open my eyes and time has jumped just a little. Maybe it’s a few seconds later – or a few minutes? Which was weird. But it can’t have been long. My friends were all still there. And I still felt good. Calm. Nice. The rest of the world feels a little muffled, like the air is thicker.

“All awake, Emma?”

I nod.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel… fine.”

“That’s good.”

He rested his fingertips on my wrists and… oh.

“How does that feel?”

For some reason, it felt SO good. It was like one of those feelings that ran all through your body, like the feeling I get when my neck is being kissed, or my nipples are teased, or having ‘good girl’ growled quietly in my ear.

“It feels good,” I murmured. I was still sort of sleepy.

His fingertips started running slowly up and down my wrists, from my up-turned palms to the crook of my elbow. It was like the sexiest teasing I’d ever felt. Tingles rushed up to my shoulders and through my chest. I could feel my nipples getting hard under my dress.

“Do you like the way it feels?”

I nodded. The tingling was spreading through my tummy and between my legs. I was calm and floaty and burningly turned on all at once. He pulled his hands away. I bit my lip in frustration.

“More?”

“Yeah.”

He picked up his chair and moved it. I felt him sit down behind me. He leaned in close and whispered “Close your eyes…” into my ear. I did what I was told.

The moment his hands touched my back I gasped like lightning ran down my spine to my crotch. Every tiny hair on my neck stood up in reaction to his touch.

“Fuck.”

Each stroke of my shoulder blades felt like being stroked… everywhere, all at once. My clit was getting harder and more sensitive with each rub. My underwear felt hot and wet. I could barely control my breathing.

His hands slid over my shoulders and teasingly over my upper arms. It was like ecstasy. Just the fabric of my underwear against my clit was delicious. I slid my ass against the wooden chair instinctively trying to find some friction or relief. As he blew gently on the back of my neck I leaned back and spread my legs in the confused hope of being touched. I fucking ached with pleasure.

“It’s such a strong feeling,” he murmured in my ear, “when you think about it.”

He pulled his hands away once again. My heart was thudding in my chest, my nipples were hard through the fabric of my dress which had ridden up from my accidental grinding against the seat. Even with my eyes closed, I looked like a hot mess but I was so turned on I was beyond caring. I was just glad the club was so dark.

He puts brought his chair around to my side and just in front, so it was perpendicular to me. He sits in, close.

“How are you feeling?”

I open my eyes. I’m dimly aware of the giggling of my friends, and the gaze of some other onlookers over me. I feel a wave of heat as my face reddens.

“Don’t worry about them,” he says. “Look at me.”

“This is crazy,” I mouthed.

”I told you it would be fun.”

I’m speechless.

“Keep going?”

I was nodding before I even thought about it.

He scoots in front of me a little more. “Put your leg on my lap, Emma.” I lift my bare leg and place it tentatively across his knees.

His hand rests on my knee and a jolt of pleasure hit me. It snakes up my thigh to my wet cunt and fizzles deep me, my hips twitching. To my embarrassment I let out a moan of pure pleasure.

His fingertips are stroking my skin in soft, little circles. My thighs are starting to shake. Laughter among the crowd sends me blushing. He shakes his head in their direction and then looks at me.

“Emma, look at me.”

His twinkling eyes lock mine.

“You’ve been doing really well. Don’t worry about them. Listen to my voice.”

I nod in breathless agreement. His fingertips start drumming slowly on top of my thigh, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two three..

It feels like a fluttering feeling inside me and I scrunch my eyes closed in delight. I squirm in my seat, squeezing my thighs together tightly just for a hint of pressure on my clit.

“Emma, look at me.”

“You’ve been doing really well. I know it feels intense. It feels so strong…”

I’m trembling with each quickening tap. One-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three…

“It’s getting stronger and stronger, Emma. Like you can’t hold back.”

The drumming moves imperceptibly up my thigh, to the edge of my dress and it feels 100 times stronger. I’m arching my back. My hands grip the arm of the chair like they’re my bedsheets when I’m touching myself. I’m so close…

“Emma, listen to me.”

“Oh my god.”

“Emma, listen.”

“I’m… please… I…”

“Let go.”

With those two words the orgasm hits me like an explosion, my thighs clamping together, the contractions in my cunt are so strong I bend double in my chair.

“Let go.”

It feels like I’m being fucked hard and deep while I cum, my g-spot is spasming with pleasure. I cry out helplessly.

“Let go.”

His hand gripping my thigh sends another orgasm shivering through my clit and then bursting inside of me. I feel a hot flood of wetness soak through my panties as I involuntarily squirt a little.

“Let go.”

I slump back in the chair as my hips jolt into the air. I can hear my friends shrieking with laughter as they watch me orgasm uncontrollably. I try to hold back but I can’t stop cumming. Each squeeze of my thigh sends another wave of powerful juddering contractions through my pussy, makes me moan, twitch, gush, gasp, grind, shake, cum.

I’ve never cum for so long.

“OK, you. Come here.”

He takes my leg off his lap and comes in close to me. He wraps his hand on my neck and pulls me toward him, my forehead resting on my shoulder, exhausted and trembling. “Just relax,” he murmurs. “Listen to my voice…”

I sink back into a calm darkness.

A few moments later I wake up, sheepish and embarrassed… but even so, I can’t stop grinning. He strokes my wrist one last time – no unbearable pleasure, this time – and smiles. I tentatively stand up, and my legs are like jelly. Rebecca grabs me incredulously and says “OH. MY. GOD.”

“I. KNOW.”

I tell her I have to excuse myself to use the bathroom and shakily stumble in that direction. It’s busy with girls streaming in and out, but in the mirror, I see my face and chest are flushed pink. And my hair’s a mess.

I shut myself in the cool dark cubicle and slide off my panties, down my ankles and over my shoes and step out of them. They’re so drenched from my cum I throw them in the trash can. I instinctively reach between my legs and fuck, I’m still so wet and sensitive. I lean back against the cubicle door and let my fingertips find my slick, hard, throbbing clit. It feel so good to finally feel the touch my body had been craving.

Around me were the sounds of doors opening and closing, girls talking, water running, the throbbing music from next door and the hand-dryer blowing.

I was so hungry to feel full inside and I greedily pushed two fingers deep inside, sliding in deliciously easily. My knees buckled with satisfaction as I slowly, quietly fucked myself. Each time the hand dryer switched on, I pumped my fingers in and out hard and fast, the noise of the motor covering the sounds of my wetness, until it stopped and I had to wait for more agonising seconds.

When I couldn’t take it any more, with one last blast of the hand dryer, I frantically rubbed my clit, my other hand grabbing my tit, and then those commanding words “Let go… let go… let go…” suddenly reverberating in my head, until, my hand clamped over my mouth, I came for the second time that night, my legs buckling in shock, sliding down the cubicle door until I was sat on my heels, waves of pleasure still shuddering through my thighs.

I sat on the toilet for a few minutes and straightened myself out, until the red flush of orgasm had faded from my chest. Then I went back out to join my friends… embarrassed, sans underwear but oh-so-satisfied.

And when I’m alone, the words ‘let go…’ can still push me over the edge sometimes :)”

I would love to give proper credit to this author. If any of you know who wrote this please let me know so I can tag them and give them the credit they deserve.

#hypnosis #hypnotized girl #hypnogasm

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writerfromshikahr · 1 month ago

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A quiet, gentle moment between Rook and Lucanis. Pre-relationship. getting to know each other.

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Romantic Wyverns - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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Rook found Lucanis sitting outside the kitchen, his back against the stone wall, a book open in his hands as the Fade stretched endlessly before him.

"I’ve been looking for you," she said with a smile as she approached. "I need to see your blacksmith. The hilt on my dagger has gone all wobbly." She held up the weapon, giving it a demonstrative wiggle.

Lucanis’s lips quirked into a small smile, his amusement subtle but warm. "Gone all wobbly? Is that a technical term?"

"Well, yes," she replied, her tone mock-serious. "I believe that’s the official way to describe it."

"Leave it with me, Rook. I’ll pass it on to him next time we’re in Treviso."

"Thank you. I appreciate that." She turned to leave but stopped when his voice called after her.

"Want to sit with me for a while?"

Surprised, she glanced back at him. "Ah, sure. I thought you were hiding up here, reading, not wanting to be disturbed."

He smiled softly, setting the book down beside him. "I like your company. Besides, my book was getting a little dull. I’m not sure detective novels are for me."

Rook joined him on the rickety wooden platform, the silence between them comfortable as they stared out at the vast expanse of the Fade.

"You know," Lucanis said after a moment, his voice low and steady, "when I was in the Ossuary, I didn’t think anyone would come for me. I hoped, of course, but as the days dragged on, that hope faded. All I had was Spite, and even that felt like an uneasy alliance."

He glanced at her, his dark eyes thoughtful. "I never thanked you for what you did—for doing what Caterina asked of you. Though I know you had your reasons for wanting me to join you."

"Lucanis," Rook said earnestly, "if she’d asked me to help without any of this going on, I still would’ve done it."

He studied her for a long moment, something unspoken flickering in his gaze. "I believe that."

Another stretch of silence settled between them, grounding rather than awkward.

"The day I was captured… it changed me," he admitted. "I’m not sure I even know the man I am now. But it’s getting easier, even with Spite."

Rook sighed, her voice gentle. "You’re a good man, Lucanis. With a good heart. Don’t forget that."

He let out a wry chuckle, his smile faint but genuine. "I think you’re being too kind with your words. You don’t know how much trouble I can be."

"Trouble? You? Mr. Schedules and Routines Dellamorte?" she teased, her tone light.

Lucanis smiled again, his laugh soft but real. "Point taken."

She nudged the book sitting beside him. "So, if detective novels aren’t your thing, what kind of books do you like?"

He hesitated, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "I like romance… or anything to do with wyverns," he added, his tone brightening slightly.

"Hopefully not romance novels about wyverns," she smirked, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Lucanis let out a rare, genuine laugh, the sound rich and unguarded. "Absolutely not."

"Romance, huh?" Rook tilted her head, pretending to think. "I wouldn’t have guessed that… but it suits you."

He raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Oh, it suits me now?"

"Sure," she said with a grin. "The dark and deadly assassin with the heart of a romantic? I like it."

Lucanis regarded her quietly, his gaze soft. "I’m glad to hear it."

The silence that followed was easy, unhurried. Eventually, Lucanis broke it again. "What do you like to read?"

Rook stared out into the Fade, her expression thoughtful. "I never really had a lot of time to read—though Viago encouraged it, of course. I like adventure books, but… a good romance is always nice to curl up with in front of a fire. Especially if it’s a little spicy."

She shot him a smile, and Lucanis felt his chest tighten, just a little.

"I see…" he replied evenly, though the slight twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement.

"Did I tell you I walked in on Bellara the other day? She was writing something pretty steamy. I’ve never seen someone shut a notebook so fast."

Lucanis blinked, caught off guard. "Bellara!?"

"Yes! I didn’t know if I should leave or pretend I didn’t hear… it was awkward," Rook said, shaking her head.

"As long as she doesn’t write about any of us, let her have her thing," Lucanis replied with a shrug. "We all need some distractions these days."

"If that’s the case, I need to find a distraction of my own," she chuckled.

Lucanis leaned in slightly, nudging her shoulder gently.

"Then we’ll have to find you one. But first, let’s go to Treviso to get your loose hilt fixed. Perhaps while we wait for it to be mended, we could take a stroll around the market?"

"Just you and me?" Rook asked, her voice softening. "That sounds lovely. I would like that."

She noticed the almost-relieved smile spreading across Lucanis’s face at her acceptance, and Maker, it was adorable. She couldn’t deny it; she found him fascinating, intriguing, and undeniably pleasing to the eye.

#lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #rookanis #rookanisfanfic #rook #dragon age the veilguard #gentle fluff

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katiascraft · 2 months ago

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"Tender is the night for a broken heart" | CL16

Parings: Charles Leclerc x Reader.

Summary: You been feeling very sad lately. Your emotional stress is taking you places you didn’t want to be back in ever again. And Charles knows it - just wanna make sure you know you are loved despite it all.

Now playing: "Space song" by Super Pipo.

Word count: +2k

Warnings: INSINUATION OF SUICIDE - if you are sensitive to these kind of topics please don’t read it. ANGST WITH HAPPY ENDING. VERY SAD. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. I do what I can. Not proofread.

Author's note: I may or may not written this one about a real situation. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION. Hope you like it and sorry in advanced if I make you cry. Charles the man that you are in my head 😭. Don’t forget to comment, like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

The wind was brushing the tears that were dropping from your eyes gently. You were shaking, scared. Nature was the only thing that surrounded you. Tall pines with your favorite gradient of green were all around you. You could hear the bird singing. You thought it was morning because the sun on your face was warm - that made you close your eyes to take it all in. that made you sob even harder. You could hear the water of the river crashing against the stonewall of the cliff you were standing on. when you opened your eyes you could see that you were on the edge of it. You took a gasp of fair freezing in the moment. A feeling so overwhelming took over you starting to sweat. Your hands wrapped your own body around. You hugged yourself there. The pain eating you alive was almost unbearable. The wind intensified, sending shivers down your spine. You closed your eyes again, ready to let go of everything. Of this pain you carried along so many years of your life. This burden you carried everywhere. This ghost living inside you is trapped, washing away your personality. Your soul felt in prison by the canvas it got. Your body felt the most uncomfortable place to exist. Your mind was so twisted sometimes you didn't know what was reality and what was your anxiety inventing fake scenarios which will hunt you all night long. Living with you was so difficult. It felt impossible for you that someone could actually love just by who you were. If you are this dark entity then who could love you? Anyone. Your mind convinced you, you needed to end it all to be finally free. You knew you were meant to fly. You just needed to let go. Relax your body and let it float. Let it fall into the immensity of the universe. Let you find a better place to live in. have your happy ending. You finally opened your eyes again out of breath trembling. You were ready. This was it for you. It was time. It was finally time. You even smiled.

But when you were about to let go you started hearing that voice. The same voice you heard every morning and you didn't know why it would choose to stick around your misery.

“y/n! y/n stop!” his voice almost broke your ears of how loud he screamed. You stopped freezing at your feet. Your heart started pounding like crazy. Adrenaline takes over your body turning your face red. Tears started to come out again even more violently. “y/n please don't do it!” his voice was torn in desperation. He was crying as violently as you, you could feel it. You could feel him grabbing your arms. You saw the watered disappear. Now you could only see the stone of the mountain you were standing on. You screamed at the top of your lungs and then everything was black.

“No!” you woke up sweating cold. You were a sea of tears shaking. Charles was already awake. He was trying to wake you up for a couple of minutes and now is really worried about you. You couldn't stop crying stunned by the nightmare you've just had.

“y/n. It's okay, love. I am here. You are ok” he said gently so wouldn't scare you. He grabbed you in his arms carefully. You looked so fragile he was scared he could break you. His heart ached seeing you like this.

These past few weeks were really hard on your end. You started feeling like your old self, self doubting about everything and anything. Insecure you weren't enough anymore for him or your job or your friend or even your family. You started feeling like a burden again lost in your own pain and struggle. Life was always a little harder for you. You've been out of really toxic relationships during your teenagehood that broke you down so bad you had to rebuild yourself all over again as if you weren't ever born. All this trauma you carried made everyday harder to live for you. You developed social issues not knowing how to interact or make friends as the aftermath. You also couldn't trust people or ask for help. Yeah, you were depressed for a couple of years. Thankfully you met Charles at your best self you liked to think. You were starting to feel happier. You liked who you were becoming. It wasn't that hard anymore to talk to people or open up with them.

When you met, you never thought Charles would even like you to be fair. He was the most gorgeous guy you have ever met. Real life prince charming you used to tell your friends. You were only an average girl, a troubled and messed up one, you thought you had no chance with him. But at the end of the road trip with friends he kissed you and you felt so overwhelmed with joy you couldn't believe it was actually your life, the one you were living. It felt strange and at the same time amazing. It was so easy with Charles to open up to him and tell him your story. He never judged you nor ran away from you scared. He didn't see you as a monster. As a broken record never able to be fixed. He fell in love with you because to him you were the sweetest person with the biggest heart he has ever talked to. You were so honest and real to everyone about everything he fell for it. He fell for your loud and weird laugh. So Precious and contagious. With your beautiful sparkly eyes always so honest and crystal clear. You were so you, so real. He felt you were so brave to be so you. In his world it was uncommon for your kind of people. He knew since the first night he met you at Lando´s birthday 5 years ago that you were the one. He didn't know you but he already knew. Destiny told him.

He knew your struggles, of course he did. He always listened to you. Felt so heartbroken every time. If he could, he would literally murder every single monster - because the one who hurt you didn't deserve to be called even humans - that did all of that to you. To him you were so pure, maybe too good for this cruel world. He tried to protect you from it all the best he could. But there was one thing he couldn't protect you against and that was your mind. He knew that your mind was the one who could move earth and seas just to hurt you in the worst way possible.

Heknew something was off with you when you started retreating. You stopped going to friends´ dinners. You didn't assist in the races you were supposed to. You stopped getting out of home more and more. You barely went out to the garden. Most of the time you were in your studio working non stop to preoccupy your mind and not think. He knew you were struggling when I stopped doing your hair the way you loved to do it. Stopped wearing your fancy outfits just to drive him crazy and urging you to take them all off when you two got home. You stopped eating the meals you were supposed to. He knew you avoid seeking help when you feel this down. He knew it was really hard for you so he let you be and wait for you to take your time until you're ready to address your feelings.

Tonight you were asleep when he got home from Max´s. You didn't want to go either and Max was your best friend. Charles was really concerned about you. He hated seeing you like this when you don't deserve to feel this. He would burn the world alive just for you to be happy if needed. You were sleeping peacefully so he decided to take a shower and join you. He laid next to you on his side to look at your face so peacefully relaxed. So angelical. He always felt so lucky to have you around in his life. Even without noticing you were the light of his life. You made him so incredibly happy, heard, understood, supported, embraced. You were his angel. Always reaching for him to give him a hand with anything he needed. So patient and understanding. You were his favorite place and he wished he could make you feel the same. Because he loved you with every fiber on his body and the only wish he had was for you to be happy.

After about 20 minutes of sleeping or so he woke up to you sobbing uncontrollably next to him. You were asleep. He guessed you were either having a nightmare or sleep paralysis. He settled on the bed so he could try to wake you up. His heart was racing in anxiety full of worry. He tried to wake you up for a couple of long minutes until you finally did and he clothed you in his arms. He rocked you gently trying to comfort you in some way.

“I'm sorry baby you feel this way” he whispered with a knot on his throat. You were shaking still but your crying ceased little by little. He kissed your temple lovingly and carefully. You just stayed like that until you could calm down.

When you did you felt drained. Your heart aches as your face from your salty tears and tries to wipe them everytime. Charles cupped your cheeks making you look at him. You felt so guilty and embarrassed to make him go through this. He didn't deserve to be with a broken soul. He deserved better. Someone that could make him happy as he deserved. You looked at him, his eyes glassy with tears.

“Listen to me y/n, i know you may or may not believe me. But listen to me okay?” you swallowed hard, ready to hate yourself for being a burden to him. “I love you. I know you feel like you don't deserve me like you are not enough for me. But let me tell you all of that is not true. I swear I would kill all these people who made you believe all these awful things about you if I could. You don't deserve to feel this pain baby. You are beautiful. You are important to so many people. You make so happy you don't have an idea” his voice cracked making you start crying again and so did he. “You really do y/n, please, believe me. You are an amazing person despite everything that happened to you. You fought so hard to be who you are and I promise it's beautiful to see. And I'm so proud of you baby. Everyone is, I promise. You are really important to me and to everyone that knows you. You are light and I know you don't feel like it. That you feel like a burden but you aren't. And you'll never be for the right people, the ones that see you, the real you. and the real you is so interesting and pretty baby. Yes you are my love” he was crying and smiling. You were sobbing but didn't take your eyes away from him. He was burning your soul with his words. Telling you everything you needed to hear and he didn't even know that. Charlie was so perfect to you even in this shitty as fuck situations with your mental health. You felt so lucky right there in his arms under the sight of his beautiful eyes that looked at you with deep love.

“I love you charlie” you said below whisper and hugged him tightly hiding yourself under his frame. You wanted to hide there forever if possible. He intensified his grip and kissed your head trying to comfort you as much as he could.

“You deserve to be happy y/n, i really mean it. You're the best person i've ever come to know.” he said softly making butterflies fly like crazy on your stomach. The pain you felt was fading away now little by little. You felt so dumb for not talking sooner about your feelings but you forgave yourself. That's what your therapist told you. You need to be more gentle with yourself and give the same understanding perspective as you give to others. Treat yourself as you treat others. Always.

“You make me happy” you said with your face buried in his neck not wanting to get out of there anytime soon. He smiled relieved and pressed gentle kisses on your cheek.

He was the first person who listened to your soul. And you knew right there that with him by your side you could heal and finally be the person you deserve to be and be loved just because.

Charles was the love of your life. And he was yours. There´s nothing to be afraid of.

You will be more than okay.

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coffeekittycatt · 1 month ago

Text

Birthday Wish ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Notes: Rafayel x Reader fanfic. Fluff but suggestive ending. 1,169 word count.

Premise: You wish Rafayel was real.. now someone is suddenly knocking at your door.

- I am very new to writing fanfic so be patient with me 🙂‍↕️

link to pt 2:

—————————————————————————————

I peek outside my window. The sky, a soft mix of cotton candy colors. Today was my 23rd birthday, and I spent it how I usually do, alone. Sounds sad, but I don’t mind. I’ve learned to be independent since my father passed.

Happy birthday Sugar, I got us your favorite takeout. Let’s watch Mean Girls tonight!

The memory passes. Today makes a third birthday without you. I close my window blind and make my way to my recliner. It’s soft and cushioned. The house is quiet, a peaceful place even though it does gets lonely not having my dad around. He left his small cottage to me and it’s become my safe haven. Mostly everything is still in place from before he left. Except things that are entirely mine, like my room. I take a seat and sit back. My phone vibrates and lights up. “Hey (Y/N), hope you had a great birthday!! Looking forward to seeing you when I get back 🩷” Ana. My close friend. Her message is sweet, reminding me I am not totally alone on this day. We planned to hang out after she gets back from her New York trip. I smile and unlock my phone.

All I want to do now is my dailies in Love and Deepspace. I open the app and wait for it to load. I press enter and am surprised to see Rafayel on my sceen. I totally forgot that this game does something special for players’ birthdays! A cutscene starts and eventually Rafayel gives me a cute gift. “Happy birthday my dear girl..” he sings to me. Wow, he has an angelic voice. My eyes slightly water and my cheeks are warmed. Why am I getting emotional? I wipe my eye with my sweatshirt sleeve and continue tapping. “Don’t worry, if you’ve got my blessing, then the Guardian of the Sea is also aware,” He adds. I pause for a moment and decide to playfully say out loud, “I wish you were real, Rafayel.” I cringe at myself and laugh. Here I am crying over how sweet a character is. I need to get a grip! I finish out the cutscene and eventually I collect some rewards from completing my dailies. I don’t know when or how, but I somehow doze off and am fast asleep.

Knock Knock. I hear my back door. My eyes flick open. What the hell? Immediately I am panicked. My house is not very close to any neighbors. They would have to walk quite a bit to get to me. Even if it was a neighbor, why would they knock at the back door? Could it be a burglar? Someone in need? An axe murderer? I take a deep breath and hurry to grab my pepper spray. My dad always taught me to have something as self defense. I peek out the small window near the door. Dammit. It’s too dark to see anything. My back porch light isn’t working at the moment. I need to replace it soon for times like this. I am too afraid now. I stay silent and wait for the mystery visitor to take their leave. A moment passes and I hear it. Knock Knock. Oh man. I decide to get close to the door. “Who is it?” I call out. “It’s Rafayel, let me in!”, the intruder exclaims. Excuse me? What did I just hear? I don’t know anyone named Rafayel.

Me: “I don’t know you or recognize your name. How can I help you sir?”

R: “Ouch, you don’t know me? We’ve spent almost everyday together! Cmon, (Y/N). Did you forget your birthday wish already?”

My heart drops to my stomach. Rafayel? Birthday wish? My mind circles back to before my impromptu nap. The fucking mobile game?! I am screaming internally. Okay, this must be a dream..or a sick prank. Maybe I am going mentally insane. I need to shut this down. I ready my pepper spray and crack the door open. I peek out and immediately, in the dim light, I see purple. Purple, fluffy hair layered across. My body freezes up. My sight trails downward to a face. Beautiful, bluish-pink eyes look at me. A small pointed nose and soft pink lips are painted on this man’s face. Rafayel. It’s actually him. I am mesmerized at his beauty, and how the real life version of him can even exist. It’s otherworldly, incapable of being real. But it is. Taking in more of the view, he is wearing something I wouldn’t expect. A faded, cherry colored hoodie with pair of light black cargo pants. He raises a hand to his head to swipe a bang out his face. Silver rings are worn on his delicate, long fingers. Still in shock, I try to speak.

Me: “R-Rafayel?”

R: “Took you long enough. It’s freezing. Soon enough I’ll be frozen like the trees out here. Can you let me in?”

I scratch my head. Guess we are doing this. Hey, maybe I will wake up again in a mental hospital and this will all make sense. I open the door all the way to let him inside. He makes his way and immediately I feel arms wrapped around me. “What th-“ I squeeze out as he takes me in for a tight embrace. A hug? My face is now on fire. I inhale and smell an enticing mix of cologne that can only be described as an ocean-breeze. It is exactly how I imagined he would smell. “My love, my dearest girl,” he says with his chin laid on my head. “I have been waiting for the day we could touch.” I smile at his comment as my face is buried in his chest. I can’t believe this is happening. My heart is racing.

Me: “How were you able to come here? How is this possible?” I look up at him, searching for answers.

R: “I told you love, any wishes you had today would come true. You have my blessing, after all.” He smiles and moves a piece of hair out my face. “You’re so much more beautiful in real life.”

I look away out of shyness. I had never been around someone so gorgeous before, let alone a guy who was so into me.

R: “You don’t have to be afraid,” he gently cuffs my cheek and pulls my gaze back towards him.

He leans down and sets my heart ablaze. Soft lips caress mine and gentle pecks are placed onto me. The bashful kisses turn into a tongue asking for an invitation to dance with mine. His sturdy hands hold my face and support me. I am lost in his kisses, savoring every moment. Each one now slightly sloppy, his tongue exploring my mouth, tender, but eager to taste more. He bites my lower lip, not aggressively, but a gentle tug that leaves me a mess. The heat from my cheeks had made its way down to my core and suddenly I am completely aroused by this man. My body has decided it needs all of him. Anticipating his next move, I watch as he pulls away from me. He stays close to my lips and I feel his warm breath against my face. “Show me your bedroom, my love.” He whispers to me.

#love and deepspace #lads photobooth #lnds mc #lads mc #lads #lads rafayel #rafayel edit #rafayel x mc #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel #rafayel smut #fluff #lads fluff #lads smut #rafayel fluff #rafayel x y/n #lnds rafayel #rafayel fanfic

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weixuldo · 1 year ago

Text

Like a Drug

Toxic!Anakin x Reader

a/n: hihihi, this one is a pretty long one shot ahh sorry! its based on this ask from @hanasnx ! (Though I did change the promp a little) I just wanted to also update that It is officially finals week- so I'll be slower than i alr am SORRY!! but i have been working on the next xhapters of allow me and enigma when i get breaks!! I hope u enjoy! ALSO! Please don't stay w someone if they act the way anakin does in this fic- this is purely a scenario for fictional purposes, never let anyone do anything he does, to you.

Anakin has a very peculiar way of showing his love; well you call it love other people call it an unhealthy obsession... you finally realize how fucked up the situation is and leave- but the real question is how long can you stay away?

warnings: cursing, toxic bf ani, smex, cumplay, agressive behavior, mention of blood, fights, alluded sexual harassment, anakin is obsessive and posessive. (he's does some fucked up shit)

_____________________

“Get up” Anakin’s stern voice rang as he gripped your upper arm.

You jumped at the unexpected contact- why was Anakin here?

“Ani! You scared m-” you started to laugh before he tightened his grip.

“Now.” he growled.

You looked back at your friends sitting across the table from you; their eyes were wide. Before you could say anything, Anakin started to pull you up.

“Let go of her!” one of your friends demanded.

He snapped his head towards her and only loosened his grip on you to stomp to the other side of the table. His tall frame towered as he glared daggers at her.

“The fuck did you just say?” he spat.

She went pale and looked down at her lap.

“That’s what I thought. Anyone else have any smart comments?” he huffed, before promptly pulling you out of the restaurant.

Before you made it all the way out the door you mouthed an “its ok” to your friends before following your boyfriend outside.

“Anakin, what the fuck?” you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air.

He continued towards his sleek black camaro (he loved to drive through the city at night, music blaring and his hand on his property, your thigh).

“Don’t fucking ignore me Anakin!” you shouted, gaining the attention of an older couple who were heading inside the restaurant.

Your cheeks burned as you caught their stares, but honestly you were used to this shit, it wasn’t the first time you and Ani had made a scene in public. Anakin always did this- he would get pissy over some irrelevant thing and you would get into an argument.

He stopped and turned with such anger.

“You really wanna know? You shouldnt have to fuckin’ ask why I’m upset! If you ever thought of anyone but yourself you’d see how fucked up it is of you to get dinner with those bitches who want to break us up” he screamed; his beautiful blue eyes dark with rage.

You knew Anakin hated your friends. And you knew they hated him.

“You know they don’t like me and always try to get you to leave- Meanwhile those sluts cant keep their legs shut; they’re probably just jealous cause I’m the only guy who gets to fuck you and they have to find a new one every night!” he spat.

Most of your friends were in stable relationships, but of course Anakin didn’t bother to remember that.

“How am I selfish Anakin? I just wanted to grab dinner with the girls and you didn’t even come up. I told them not to bring you up after the last fight” you sighed, exhausted from Anakin's irrational moods.

His sculpted jaw clenched and his right eye twitched.

“It's the fact that you still even allow their company, it’s disrespectful.”

You shook your head and huffed in disbelief.

“Anakin, you are absolutely unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable… Do you even hear yourself right now?!” you screamed.

“And not that it should even fucking matter, but how did you even know I was with them?”

“I have your location- you know that” he stated as if you asked if the sky was blue.

“I know that, but how about them?”

He knew where they were because he made several alternative snapchat accounts and pretended to be someone from school who was just looking for new friends.

He spent nights pretending to be an excited freshman who was wondering where the science building was. He used remix to send your friends snaps that made it look like he was on campus or hanging out downtown with other students. And eventually he gained their trust enough for them to turn on their snap map for him so he could “make sure they were safe” if they went somewhere, since it's “dangerous for us college girls down here”.

“Intuition.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, “No way, you probably chipped their phones or some psycho shit cause you’re fucking crazy Anakin!”

“Well if you just goddamn did what I told you we wouldn’t have to have these conversations or be in these situations” he replied dryly.

“How many fucking “rules” are there for me to follow?! Everytime I go out or do anything, you find something to nit pick! It's exhausting! I don’t even know why I’m still with you?!”

“Get in the car.” he demanded.

“You’re insane if you think-”

His whole demeanor shifted and he sighed, “baby, please… I’m sorry, let’s talk about this”.

“No, Anakin- i’m done with your bullshit” you said, heading back towards the building.

He felt his scarred eye twitch, but he needed to subdue his temper (just until he could take it out on your pretty pussy).

See, Anakin Skywalker was a master manipulator. He knew that no matter how much you fought or how insane he acted- you would always come back.

This was clockwork for him. You’d fight, he’d act vulnerable, you would fuck, and then you’d be good for a while. A perfect system. Never failed.

He called your name with a desperate plea- he had no problem acting needy if it got him to where he needed to be, plus this gave you the illusion of having power in this familiar situation.

You hesitantly turned around to meets his gaze; his beautiful blue eyes glassy with his brilliant manipulation.

“Baby, I’m sorry- I just worry about you..” he spoke softly as you subconsciously came closer.

Soon his strong arms were wrapped around your waist and his scent flooded your senses.

“You know I can't control my feelings sometimes- I just love you too much- I can’t lose you too…” he whispered into your hair.

You knew exactly what he was referring to with the “too”- his mother. He was very close with her, growing up she was all he had. A few years back she passed away and it took a big toll on your lover.

You never wanted to admit it, but you knew he used that to guilt trip you into staying or to get you to feel bad for him.

You hated him.

But you couldn’t stop…

You held him tighter and grabbed his shirt fabric, “I know Ani… I know”.

You were now crying too- You knew this was unhealthy- toxic even; but you just couldn’t quit him.

You felt his strong arms lift you up and he carried you towards his camaro; you knew what came next… He’d comfort you, fuck you, then you would act as if no argument ever happened.

A cycle you had gotten all too familiar with.

__________________________________

“F-fuck” Anakin stuttered as he slammed his cock into you; intensive sounds of your bodies colliding, ricochet off the bedroom walls.

“You feel s-so good Baby- doin’ so good for me” he praised as he thrusted in and out of your plush walls. You were lying on your back as he held one of your legs over his shoulder so he could hit even deeper.

The glorious feeling of his calloused hands along your smooth stomach made you shiver. When you first started dating Anakin he told you that he would please you so well that no other men would be able to compare.

he was right…

No man could navigate your body the way he does, read your tells like he could, no man could make you cum as well as Anakin could.

He slowed his hips for a moment making you whine at the lack of movement from his thick cock.

“Look at me baby”.

You blinked your doe eyes open, tears falling from the corners. He observed your features before his eyes softened.

“My girl, my pretty girl… always so lovely” she smiled before tenderly kissing you.

“I love you more than anything” he whispered against your plump lips.

This.

Moments like this were why you stayed: he could be kind- he was sweet- he did care.

You were about to reciprocate his statement but were cut off by his hand tightly gripping around your throat as he continued snapping his hips into yours.

You squealed with each powerful thrust- it was ok, you’d tell him later.

His swollen member was blushing red and as hard as could be. He absolutely adored having you below him, taking his dick like a champ- he remembered how proud he was when you were finally able to take all of him.

A particularly hefty thrust sent his neurons firing and he knew he was almost at his end. He sloppily bucked his hips into your pelvis as his breathing became more erratic.

“I’m gonna cum- w-where do you want it sweet girl?” he half stuttered, half moaned.

You patted your chest and gave Anakin a knowing look.

With that he was gone, his brows knitted together in ecstasy and his hips lurched forward. A string of obscenities left his mouth as he quickly slid his dick out of you to aim for your chest.

Barely one pump in, his warm seed coated your chest. You watched as his abs and thighs contracted with each wave of pleasure. Some of his damp curls stuck to his forehead, he had a sheen of sweat, and his cheeks were flushed.

What a beautiful sight.

_________________________________________

Anakin’s fingers tucked some wild strands of hair behind your ear as you slept peacefully beside him.

Last night cut it a little closer than he normally would have, but it all worked out because here you were, still with him- fast asleep in his bed.

He grabbed your phone and began to go through your messages (an unhealthy habit he picked up a few months back), his fingers immediately moved to the new notifications from your friends.

He opened the pinned group chat and read the messages from last night.

Where r u? Where’d he take u?

Are you alright?

WTF was that?!

Anakin rolled his eyes; your friends were always so dramatic. But he smiled when he saw your response.

“Guys i'm good, ani took me home and we talked things out- he’s just been really stressed out lately, it's nothing to worry about!”

You were his good girl and he’d spoil you today for your loyalty.

He continued to scroll passively until he got to the newer unread messages.

y/n, can we all please talk when you get back- we’re worried about you

Yea, anakin doesn’t seem like he has the best intentions

We hate to see you in this situation

Babe, he’s toxic- u need to dump him

“...u need to dump him”

Anakin almost threw the phone across the room- no way these bitches were telling you to dump him?!

He was the only one who took care of you, he was the only one who knew what was best for you- who did these girls think they were?!

Before he could stop himself he took out his own phone and copied all of their numbers down so he could send several nasty message to the girls basically telling them to back the fuck off and being unnecessarily hateful.

After he blocked their numbers, he decided it was time for a shower, so he left you with a kiss and headed to the bathroom.

The emptiness of the bed made you wake. For a moment, you began to search for Anakin but the shower in the other room indicated where he was.

You smiled and cuddled further into his sheets. The warmth of the blankets began to pull you back into slumber but your phone interrupted the notion.

It was one of the girls you had gotten dinner with last night, what would she be calling this early for?

“Hello?”

y/n, I’m sorry but you need to come back now, I don’t think it's the best idea for you to be with anakin-

“Wait, slow down… why?”

She sent you screenshots of the messages he sent and you almost dropped your phone.

“What the fuck?! Anakin sent this?”

Yes, this morning- I really think you should get out of that relationship y/n- I’ve been telling you this! He’s trying to make you dependent on only him- it's not healthy!

You took a moment to regain your thoughts and quickly said a goodbye when you heard the water stop running.

Why would he be so cruel? You knew he had his issues but he’d never been so explicitly viscous before. Maybe your friends were right, you had been manipulated so much that you were defending his toxic behavior. This had to stop.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to face him for long (he would just pull you back in). So you quickly began to gather your things so that it would be easier to leave after you talked with him.

You almost had everything packed when the doorknob turned to reveal a fresh Anakin; his hair was still damp from the shower and his skin had a glistening shine from the residual steam. He had such a big smile… you hated this, but it needed to be done.

“What’s going on princess?” he frowned when he saw your bag was already packed.

“Anakin… I have to go” you said hurriedly.

He moved in front of you and held up a hand, “Woah, can we talk about what’s going on? Why are you leaving in such a hurry?” he asked (genuinely worried).

With a sigh, you looked him in the eye, “Anakin- we can’t keep doing this- we aren’t good for eachother”.

He felt his chest tighten.

“Was it your friends? Did they put those thoughts in your head?! I told you they weren’t-”

“Anakin! Please, enough! I saw what you said to them- Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not acting like the man I fell in love with… You’ve changed so much” you said with watery eyes.

For a moment he looked as if he were going to punch something but eventually he let out a breath and defeatedly stood to the side. Your words seemed to really hit him.

“Angel, I do what I do because I love you- you know that. I know I’m messed up- but I’ve been working on it, Truly” he promised.

Tears fell as you shook your head, “I know Ani, but it's not fair to me- I can’t keep doing this! We always end up fighting and you always get upset”

“I DON'T!” Anakin unintentionally shouted, making you shrink away from him.

“This is what I'm talking about Ani, I don’t wanna do this- no, i’m not doing this anymore. I’m leaving” you said, grabbing your things and heading for the door.

He called your name but you ignored him, you almost got to his front door when he grabbed your upper arm.

“Let go!” you shouted, snatching your arm from his hold.

“Please, just leave me alone” you cried as you walked out of the house and headed for the uber you sneakily called while he was still in the shower.

As the uber drove away, you saw a confused and hurt Anakin standing in his driveway.

You put your head in your hands and cried…

It needed to be done.

It had to.

_________________________________________

A few months later

The early autumn air nipped at your skin as you haistilly exited the rowdy club. You shivered and crossed your arms after checking the time.

10:34 pm

You had only gotten to the damn club 30 minutes ago and you already wanted to leave. You and some friends had gone out to reward yourselves for a hard week (and to hopefully get your mind off of your ex).

Some guy in the club had gotten a little too handsy fior your comfort- he attempted to put his hand up your dress and grope your breasts while you were just leaning over the bar to order another drink. You slapped him across the face and made your way outside to get some air.

You wanted to leave; as you stood by the curb you felt the familiar sting of tears pricking at your eyes.

Fuck.

The sensation of alcohol warmed your tummy and clouded your thoughts. Warm, strong hands protecting you from any other man who dared to look at you. Fierce blue eyes warding off any unwanted attention-

No.

You physically shook your head and opened your phone to distract yourself. There was no fucking way you were thinking about him right now. You scrolled to your uber app and looked up rates for a ride back to your apartment.

$40, $35, $47, $32, $43

The rates were through the roof, no way you were going to pay that just to get a few blocks home.

Almost instinctively, your hands moved so that your thumb was shivering over Anakin’s number.

What were you doing?!

You were about to swipe off when you realized: you weren’t willing to take an expensive uber, but you also didn’t want to walk that far in heels and at night. Maybe you should call him… at least you know him and he does owe you a favor anyways.

Fuck it.

You unblock and dial his number.

Ring…

Ring…….

Ring………..

Voicemail.

You groaned. You knew very well what he was doing- he was making you call several times so that you would look desperate. He loved doing that shit. You dialed again.

Ring…

Rin-

“Hey sweet thing, finally came to your senses?” he said, smugness dripping off his every word.

“Anakin- please come pick me up” you sniffed.

“And why would I do that? Why would I do you a favor after you’ve been such a bra-”

“Ani- someone tried to touch me- I wanna go home” you cried.

The other end of the phone went silent. Anakin’s eye began to twitch and his grip on the phone tightened.

“Where?” he gritted out.

“What? I’m on fourth street, over by the old mill-”

“Where did he touch you?” he interrupted.

You took a breath- maybe you shouldn’t have called Anakin, you knew he was going to cause a scene- but at the same time a dark part of you wanted him to become violent with his passion for you.

“He put his hand up my skirt and started groping my breas-”

“I’m on my way” is all he said before finally adding-

“That fucker is dead.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, Ani was coming.

___________

Anakin’s knuckles were a fiery red as he dealt several blows to the man who had dared to touch his girl. His vision clouded by rage and hatred; how dare someone try to touch what was his.

Sure, you were broken up (or so you thought); but anakin saw it as just a small break- You were getting back together- he knew it.

All he was waiting on was your call.

Once he was satisfied, he stood up and shook the blood off of his hand. He looked over his work; the man’s face wa bloodied and his lip was cracked (there was also possibly a tooth missing but Anakin didn’t really give a fuck).

He leaned over and spat, “Don’t ever touch someone who isn’t yours again”.

He made his way through the crowd of stunned onlookers who all began to back away from him as he headed towards the bathroom. Once he got there, everyone stepped out and allowed him to walk in with no hesitation (They didn’t want to get on his bad side in any shape or form).

He leaned on the sink and examined the cut on his cheekbone.

Whatever.

He turned on the faucet and washed the blood from his hands; no need for his beautiful girl to see the blood of a fucking perv.

He dried his hands and exited the building to collect you from outside the building.

You stood there, arms crossed, his jacket draped over your shoulders: his Angel.

“Hey, sweetheart” he called in a soft voice as he put his arm around you.

You looked at him with big eyes.

“Are you alright?” He kissed your forehead.

You nodded and hugged him closer to you.

“It's all taken care of, let's get you home”

______

“I knew you’d come back” he broke the silence in the car (well, the radio was on- but you hadn’t spoken since he left the club).

“Anakin, can we please not talk about this right now? '' you said quietly.

He glanced at you and put a tender hand on your thigh.

“Angel, these past few weeks without you have been hell… I’m sorry for how I acted- I love you”.

You knew this was just another way he was trying to manipulate you- he definitely don’t attempt to better himself, but you couldn’t help but indulge him- after all… you missed him too. You placed one of your hands on top of his and met his eye.

“Ani- will you take me to your’s?” you asked shyly, as if you hadn’t spent countless nights in his bed.

He smiled and rubbed his hand along your leg, “Of course darling”.

“Maybe I can help relieve some of your stress too,” he added with a deeper tone.

You mentally sighed- of course he wanted that; but you also wouldn’t mind having him near you again, so you politely nodded with a smile.

He squeezed your thigh, “That’s my girl, I knew you couldn’t quit me that easy”

You turned your head to look out the window at the bright city once more… He was right- you just couldn’t quit him.

***

Once again anakin is completely fucked up in this fic- pls dont romantiscice this behavior in real life... other than that- I hope you enjoyed the fic lmfaooo. I haven't really written ani as an actually problamatic character before, its mostly just like rude or grumpy ani lmfao. but ty for stopping by!!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

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Sweet Like Candy 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor, Bucky Barnes (Professor AU)

Summary: the new school year proves to be hectic. (short!chubby! reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all.

“Hey, Oli, hold my seat,” you say into the phone speaker, “I gotta run! The professor’s office hours close in... ten minutes and I desperately need to be signed into this course. I swear, if I’m stuck taking philosophy again I’m gonna cry.”

“No problem, we can wait,” Olive assures you. She’s always a comfort. She wouldn’t dare mention how you always cry or that you did this to yourself by waiting until the last minute to sort your schedule.

“Alright, gotta go! You don’t wanna hear me huffing and puffing,” you chuff, “buh-bye!”

You hang up and clutch your phone, your bag bouncing, your bum too! You hurtle forward between the bodies of students who refuse to part for your passing. You veer towards the history building and nearly trip up the steps.

You heave as you get to the stop and grunt as you drag open the heavy wooden door. Ugh! Why are you weak? Not just in body, but mind too. If you had a degree of discipline, this wouldn’t be happening. Again.

You slow as you climb the next set of stairs. Yeah, you can’t do that. You’re dizzied by the endless halls set out like a twisted maze meant to house beasts with human heads and bulls’ bodies. It doesn’t help that those signs are fuzzy. You can make out the letters if you get real close.

You finally get to the door you need, dragging your feet as your legs burn. You raise your hand to knock on the door but it opens as if it can sense you. That’s silly. Doors don’t open themselves.

It’s too late to stop yourself from knocking on the man’s upper stomach. You cringe and pull your hand back against your chest. You force your lips into a smile.

“Sorry, I—are office hours over? I ran here,” you gasp. “I’m sorry.”

The man looks down at you and you sway nervously. He’s taller than you. Well, most people are. His blue eyes bore into you as his cheek dimples in agitation.

“Please--”

“I don’t know,” he grips the mug in his hand tighter. “Odinson, another one.”

The man doesn’t bother with an excuse me or pardon. He steps forward and you stumble back. You sidle out of his way and he marches down the hall. You peer through the door again. An even bigger man rises from behind a desk and smiles. The blond is a lot more welcoming than the brunette.

“Ah hello, I suppose you’ve come to be let into my Norse course?” He intones as he crosses the office and extends his large hand. “Professor Odinson.”

“Cerise,” you accept his hand. It’s like a paw. Maybe there are mythical beasts in here. Though he is more what you imagine a god to be. Large, golden, and those eyes. “Yes, I’m so sorry! I meant to enroll before the deadline but I had it down wrong and then I realised it was two days late and--”

“Not to worry. It’s an intensive language course. We are bound to have a few withdrawals so I’d be happy to take on a few extra,” he assures you. “Do you have your form?”

“Oh, yes!” You let the straps of your bright pink purse part on your arm and you dig inside. You take out the paper and a scatter rains over the floor. “Oops!” You bend to collect the wrapped candies and the heart lollipop. “I kinda... hurried here.”

“Not to worry,” he grins down at you as you hold out the form again.

His eyes skim to your other hand and you open your fist. “Er, you want some?”

“If you don’t mind? But don’t mention it. I wouldn’t like anyone to think I can be bribed with sweets. Though it may be true,” he winks and takes one of the strawberry candies and the form. “Cerise, an interesting name.”

He turns and goes back to his desk. You follow behind him, nervous to enter the office completely. There’s another desk. The office is bigger than you expect. You stand across form him as he sits. He lays out the paper and unwraps the candy.

He pops the sweet into his mouth and hums, “delicious.”

You teeter on your toes and clasp and unclasp your purse as he searches for a pen. He sucks loudly on the confection. As you try not to fidget, there’s a clink that makes you jump. You peek over at the other man as he returns with a full cup. He drops into his chair with as little caution.

His eyes meet yours. The line of his brows of them make you flinch. He looks angry but why? Or you think so. You narrow your eyes as you try to see him clearer.

You turn back to Odinson and shake off the tension. He scribbles with a pen across the bottom of the form. He makes a wet noise with his mouth and the other man grunts.

“Do you have to?” The dark-haired man snarls.

“Forgive my office mate,” Odinson tuts as he hands over the paper. “Barnes is rather crotchety since his own office was flooded. You think he’d be a bit more grateful for my generosity, elsewise he’d be languishing in some basement.”

“I said ‘thank you’,” the other professor mutters.

“Mm, yes, but not loud enough to hear,” Odinson chides and gives a laugh. “Don’t fret about him. I tease. We are merely adjusting to each other. You must live in residence? You know how it can be to have to adapt to others.”

“Oh, yes, my roommate is a night owl. I already know I’m not going to get any sleep,” you take the form, “thank you, sir.”

“Not at all, but I must warn you. This is a language course, not mythology. We use the stories to learn the language so you will need to be attentive to your studies,” he girds, “I’d hate for this all to be for not.”

“I understand,” you look down at the form. You can kind of make out his signature.

It’s fine. They have all sorts of assistive technology these days. First year, you go through one text-to-speech. Everything is only so you’re really not worried. And you would love to be able to speak like a viking.

“I’ll see you in class, professor,” you give a triumphant smile and bounce on your heel as you turn.

Barnes huffs heavily as you cross the office. You stop as a crinkle comes from your hand. You only realise then you’re still clutching onto the candies. You glance over and slowly near his desk.

“Do you want one?” You open your hand and offer the candies.

He doesn’t even look up, “no.”

Odinson sucks loudly, “don’t be such a bore. Leave him a chocolate. He does like them. He keeps truffles in his drawer.”

Barnes inhales sharply but doesn’t say a word. You take one of the chocolate balls and put it on his desk. You dump the rest in your bag then spin away.

“Have a great day,” you chirp as you get to the door.

#thor #bucky barnes #dark thor #dark bucky barnes #dark!thor #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #thor x reader #series #drabble #au #professor au #marvel #mcu #winter soldier #captain america #avengers #sweet like candy

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lqveharrington · 1 year ago

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Silver Roses & Fallen Snow

4: The 10th Annual Hunger Games (masterlist for series)

summary: Coriolanus comes up with a plan to secure his win as the winning mentor of the 10th Annual Hunger Games, but he makes a decision that changes everything.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: cheating (i’m so sorry), kissing, fluff, implied sex, mentions of blood and hurt, jealousy, mentions or murder and death, sejanus slander, italics are coriolanus’ inner thoughts.

word count: 4k +

a/n: this took a billion rewrites, but i wrote it sm better than i originally planned :) ty for your patience for this series

Coriolanus knew that winning the Hunger Games was impossible with Lucy Gray as his tribute. She could sing well and get any crowd to flaunt over her. She could care for those around her and get everyone and everything to fall for her charms. But, she couldn’t fight if she wanted to.

This led to Coriolanus sitting at his desk, eyes flickering between his father’s photo, a photograph of him as a baby with his mother, and a framed picture of him and you, looking at each other with pure adoration. He let a small smile slip through his messy thoughts, focusing on you. He loved everything about you.

Thus, he knew what he had to do to win for you and for his family. Even if it meant playing dirty. Even if it meant toying with another’s emotions.

“Lucy Gray,” Coriolanus whispered into the darkness, looking around the Capitol Zoo’s cage. “Lucy Gray!”

“You’re alive.” Lucy Gray whispered as she came over, gripping the iron bars.

“Hey, those bombs? They have changed everything.” He started, determined to get his plan through. “They blew the walls out, so that means you can escape up in the stands. There’s a hole down in the floor,” He flickered his eyes to her lips and back up to her eyes. “Leads down to some tunnels. I’ve tried it, you can disappear down there.”

She nodded, letting him clasp his hand over her own.

“So, the moment you hear that bell ring, you ignore the weapons in the middle and run, as fast as you can for that hole.” He spoke with urgency, squeezing her hand. “And you find a place to hide down below. Alone.”

“Alone? No, Jessup’s my friend.”

“No. The moment that bell rings, you can’t trust anyone, not even Jessup.” His eyes wander the rest of the enclosure. “Just lay low down there until it’s safe to come out.”

Lucy Gray shook her head in appreciation, looking between his eyes. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I can’t let you die. I saved you.” Coriolanus got closer to her, face merely a few centimeters away. “I saved you once, I’m not risking it again.”

A tear fell down her face, “I’m sorry. I’m more hopeful during the daytime, but when it gets dark…”

“It’s okay.” He wiped her face off with his father’s handkerchief, ensuring she was focused on him. “It’s okay. I am going to get you out here. I promise.” He smiles, “Back to the Covey.”

Lucy Gray studied his face. All she saw was true intentions. After a few beats, she leaned in for a kiss, one she somehow needed from the male presented in front of her.

And he let her.

Coriolanus Snow let Lucy Gray Baird kiss him. He let one hand reach to lightly cup her cheek, deepening the kiss ever so slightly.

He knew it was wrong. So wrong. But, he only did it for you.

I’m sorry.

“Is this real?” He asks her after separating, regret filling his mind. “Just tell me, if I’m going to risk everything… That song—“

I’m so sorry, beautiful. I promise I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’m so sorry.

“That song was payback, that’s all.” Lucy Gray cut him off, shaking her head. “My old boyfriend, Billy Taupe, he was cheating on me with the mayor’s daughter.”

I don’t love her. I love you.

“The girl from the reaping?”

“Yeah, she got crazy jealous. She had her Pa read my name up on that stage. And now everyone will know what they did to me.” She lifted her chin up.

“Yeah.” Coriolanus reached into his shirt, grabbing his mother’s compact. “Take this.”

“No. No, it’s too fine—“

“It’s not a gift. It’s a loan.” He grabbed her hands, squeezing them. “What’s in here, don’t touch it. Don’t even breathe it in because small amounts can be deadly.” He took her chin gently, forcing her to look at him. “Look, I can see what war does to people, okay? I’ve seen it. And there will come a time when you need this when you need to act. We all do things we’re not proud of to survive.” Coriolanus planted one last kiss on her lips, shutting his eyes.

This is all for you, beautiful, I promise. I’m sorry.

“Hey? We are going to win this, Lucy Gray.” He rubbed her cheek, wiping one last tear. “We are going to win this together.”

With final hugs and kisses from Grandma’am and Tigris, Coriolanus left the penthouse with an unbalanced conscience and the smallest possible amount of hope of winning the Tenth Annual Hunger Games. He was going to pick you up and then walk toward the Citadel where he was to be watching his tribute along with his peers, but the Lovett car was waiting right outside; Your tinted window rolled down with your head resting in your arm.

He did a quick jog over to you — despite the slight limp he had — and bent over to peck your lips. “Aren’t you a wonderful surprise?”

“Good morning, Coryo.” You return the gesture two more times, smiling. He stood there for a minute, admiring you before you spoke again. “Are you just going to stand there? Or do you want to get in the car?”

He shook his head at you and got inside, rolling the window up and shutting the divider between the driver and the backseats. “I was heading out to get you, my love.”

You shrug, letting yourself sink into the comfort of his arms. “Do you want me to leave? I can leave you here and let you come pick me up—”

“Don’t you dare leave me.” He locks you in his embrace. “Anywhere we go, you stay with me, remember?”

You hum and peck his jaw. “I know.”

Coriolanus smiles at your action tilting his head to meet your lips. He stared into your eyes, a smile etching its way onto his face. “What if we do something fun?”

“Hm, when?” You ask in between kisses, letting him bring you closer.

“Right now.” He brings a hand up to your cheek, pushing you slightly. “We have time.”

“Do we?” You wrap your arms behind his neck and wrap your finger around his curls, tugging softly. “I think we have twenty minutes.”

“Perfect.” He grinned, holding you close as you both fell on top of the backseat, an airy laugh coming from you. “Just enough time.”

The car ride was filled with Coriolanus’ desire to prove his worth of loving you, despite you not knowing what he had even done earlier that morning. Sadly, both of you did not take into account how short twenty minutes truly were.

“Miss Lovett? We’ve arrived at the Capitol’s Citadel.” Your driver knocked on the divider, shifting the car gear into park.

Coriolanus watched as your eyes widened, chuckling as a planted one last kiss on your lips.

“Thank you! We’ll be out soon!” You quickly reply and push your boyfriend off of you, sifting through the discarded clothes in the small space. “It would be nice if you helped and got dressed, Coryo.”

“Right.” He murmured, squeezing your hips.

Without fail, you both got dressed as swiftly as possible. You rubbed light lipstick stains of Coriolanus while he straightened out your blazer and top, adjusting it just right to cover the newly formed bruises across your collarbone.

After checking each other one last time, Coriolanus stepped out of the vehicle, waving to the cars waiting behind as a way to make peace with them. He set his hand out to guide you onto the concrete, nodding to your driver as you made it.

“Are you sure I look fine?” You ask with worry laced in your tone, looking across the area filled with Academy rouge.

“You look beautiful.” He linked your arms together and lowered his head to yours, kissing the side. “Thank god for your tinted windows, hm?”

“We’re done with this conversation now.” You reach for your necklace, face flushed. He chuckled at you before silence took over, only the shuffles from you and others emerged.

“Clemmie visited me yesterday.” You look up at him, tilting your head.

“She did?” Coriolanus questioned you, glancing over. “How is she?”

“She’s okay… She won’t be participating as a mentor anymore.” You look around before continuing, voice almost in a whisper. “She said Dr. Gaul was trying to kill her.”

“What?” He almost asked in disbelief.

“Coryo, she had scales appearing on her skin.” You shiver as you recall the memory. “It’s awful.”

“I’m sure Dr. Gaul didn’t want to kill her. I think she just wanted to frighten her.”

You look at him, confusion creeping onto your face as you enter the main viewing and seating area. “By letting her creations bite Clemmie? That’s not—“

“That friend of yours, Plinth,” Dean Highbottom interrupts your conversation, causing you both to whip your heads around to him. “You might want to find him a seat near the door.”

Coriolanus gave him a curt nod and led you down the stairs toward where the rest of the Academy mentors were stationed.

“What was that about?” You mutter, body close to his as he has his hand around your waist.

“I don’t know.”

You hum, flickering your eyes to the press and reporters stationed in every corner of the room, not forgetting the cameras that would focus in on Flickerman and the mentors’ reactions.

“Coryo. Y/N.” Sejanus calls out from Coriolanus’ right, making you both head in his direction.

Coriolanus flexes his hand on your waist, “Hey.”

“How’re you doing? You guys alright?” The young Plinth asks politely, squeezing your arm.

“We’re doing better.” You give him a small smile.

“Look over here please.” A photographer held his camera in front of the three of you, chasing your conversation to be cut off once more.

Coriolanus tightens his hold on your waist as you lean into him with one arm wrapped around his torso whilst the other includes Sejanus. The blond let a small smirk come across his face, you let a camera smile take over, and Sejanus kept a neutral face, capturing the essence of different Capitol students.

After the flashing of the camera, the photographer left, your smile fading and Coriolanus’ smirk dropping.

“Alright, later.” Sejanus nods a bye to the both of you, heading to his designated station.

“I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” Coriolanus tilted his head down to yours as the music announcing the start of the live stream began.

“M’kay.” You push on your tippy toes and peck his lips. “Love you, good luck.”

“I love you more.” He placed a chaste kiss to your lips then your temple.

Lucretius Flickerman began directing everyone on how they should behave, scolding Festus for not already being in his seat. Your leg bounced up and down as Flickerman continued his spiel, eyeing the screen with the bright letters reading THE HUNGER GAMES.

The livestream started and eyes immediately found Dill who was with Wovey and Lucy Gray, each being escorted by Peacekeepers. Your heart started to beat faster as her Peacekeeper pushed her with his rifle, shoving her over to her marker.

“Stay with Reaper.” You mumble as the camera view switches to the other tributes, clutching your silver rose in your hand.

The view then pans over to a District Three tribute, zooming in on her coughing, panicked state. She seemed to be staring at something in the arena that put her in such distress.

Finally, the camera finally shifts to what the girl is staring at making you silently gasp. The District Two tribute — Marcus — was tied up against two fallen concrete poles, the sight staying on the screen far longer than anyone would have liked.

“Oo, Marcus.” Flickerman looked back into the camera stationed inside the Citadel. “Guess we can all sleep better now knowing that he’s off the streets.”

You flinched when Sejanus stood and threw his desk across the front, screaming toward everyone watching the live and those inside the building.

“You’re monsters! All of you!” He yells as his eyes become glassy. Sejanus storms out of the room, your eyes following him in sorrow. You knew that Sejanus was friends with Marcus, so the heartache was just worse.

The host starts his countdown, his voice echoing throughout the room.

“Stay put.” You whisper as the horn blares, watching as the camera angles switch every few seconds. You blow out a breath when Reaper comes over to protect Dill, shutting your eyes knowing she is safe.

The bloodbath left 13 tributes left, Dill and Lucy Gray remaining. Truly you wanted Dill to get out alive, but how could she if Reaper was helping?

Would there always be one winner?

“Can I leave?” You ask Dean Highbottom as he walks behind you, fidgeting with the buttons on your desk. “I’ll be right back.”

“No one is stopping you, Miss Lovett.” He gestures.

You nod, standing and making your way over to Coriolanus. You run your hand from one of his shoulders to the other, bending down to his ear. “I’ll be back, Coryo. I’m starving.”

His eyes never leave the screen as he takes your hand, kissing the back of it. “Bring me something, yeah?”

“Sure.” You frown, hoping he would have gotten up to at least stretch.

You left the room and you headed to the dining area right outside, scanning the different food options for the day. Taking into account that you would most likely be staying inside the Citadel for much longer, you opted for the filling foods — also known as pasta.

“Y/N.” Sejanus finds you, a surprised look appearing on his face for a split second. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting food.” You say although it sounded more like a question. “What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t want to head home. I feel like it would be worse to deal with everything.” He crosses his arms, following you to a table. “Anything else happened while I left?”

You shake your head, taking a sip from your water. “Just the same things. I’m not sure anything else would surprise you too much with what happened.”

Sejanus hums, sinking down into his chair. “Are you… Are you really okay with the games happening? I mean, I know it can’t be easy watching all those deaths happen.”

Looking around the dining area before responding, you lower your voice. “I despise the games, Sej. Everything I said to Dr. Gaul was all for show, but I don’t have any power here. I’m just a woman in the Capitol. The only ones with power are those higher up.”

“I’m not asking you to stop the games right now. But would you join a rebellion against the Capitol, defending those living in the Districts?”

You search his eyes, “I don’t know. I don’t want to cause another war. You know how bad it was…”

“I know, I know. But imagine if we won? The games would be over and no child would ever have to go through this. Not a Capitol student nor a District child.” He sat up straighter and clasped his hands together, looking at you with seriousness. “Just— I can’t go through another game, flower. You know it best.”

“I know.” You look down, playing with your food. Suddenly, you had lost your appetite. “What would the plan exactly be, Sej? You can’t just go through with this with no plan.”

The smallest smile stretches across his face, “I can’t tell you. Only if you agree to help take down the games and such.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “Sejanus, this is a dangerous game you’re playing.”

“It only takes one action to change something, Y/N.” He sighs.

You let silence take over, glancing around the dining area and meeting Dr. Gaul’s piercing eyes, staring dead straight at you. She gave you her signature sinister grin, nodding at you in acknowledgment. You give her a wry smile, tilting your head back down to the table.

“I have to go.” You mutter, pushing yourself out of the seat, and rush back to the viewing room — not before grabbing Coriolanus’ favorite snack.

As night fell over Panem, almost everyone left the Capitol’s Citadel. The only ones left were you and Coriolanus. You fell asleep at your station waiting for Coriolanhs while he fell asleep waiting for something to happen inside the arena. All the lights were shut down and the bright screen at the very front changed from its original design to the game footage again, Dr. Gaul took quick steps over to where Coriolanus was sleeping.

“Mr. Snow.” Dr Gaul stood before the male, Coriolanus immediately waking up from his seat.

He looked at her stone face, creasing his brows. “What happened? Is it Lucy Gray?”

“Unless you can put a leash on your deluded classmate, she might as well be dead as far as you’re concerned.” She leaned against his computer and shifted so he could see the screen encasing Sejanus inside the arena.

“Sejanus?” He whispers out.

“Bread crumbs.” She scoffed at the District-made Capitol boy. “I believe sustenance for a fallen comrade on his final journey. A District Two superstition.” She held the computer screen again and faced Coriolanus. “I’ll work on finding the Peacekeeper he bribed to get him in, and cut out their tongue. In the meantime, I need someone to get him out right now.”

Coriolanus averts his gaze to his left, “You should send Peacekeepers in.”

“Only to have him bolt and hide like a rabbit? Felix Ravinstill is fighting for his life in the hospital, Mr. Snow.” Dr. Gaul catches his look toward your sleeping figure. “I will not have these rebels make a further mockery of my Games. Anyone sees us lose control of this arena, it might as well be sounding a horn to the districts to revolt.” She spits out. “You choose to be friends with this radical. You want him to end the Games tonight?”

“It’ll look a lot worse if the tributes kill two of us.” He spoke with confidence, not wanting to enter the area.

“Would you rather have your flower get him instead Or rather the both of you? It seems as if Sejanus cares an awful lot more about her than you. They did have a good chat in the dining room while you stayed here to watch the games.” She says as a twinge of jealousy and fury passes through Coriolanus’ features.

She hums at him, “Who knows? If you get him out unscathed, I’ll whisper your name in his father’s ear. You still want that Plinth Prize, don’t you? I’ll freeze the feed for an hour. I estimate that’s all we have until the people notice.”

Dr. Gaul gave him one last look before leaving the vicinity to freeze the video. Coriolanus waited until she left to go to you, softly shaking you awake.

“Beautiful?”

You hum, still half-asleep.

“You need to get up and go home, my love.” Coriolanus took your face in his hands and rubbed your cheek, needing you to wake up.

“Why?” You mumbled. “I’ll be fine here.”

“No, you’ll be here alone. I don’t want you to be.” He kissed your head. “Come on.”

“Why won’t you stay?”

“I have to get Sejanus out of the arena.” He muttered, making your eyes go wide.

You look over at the screen, watching Sejanus kneel by his fallen friend. “Why is he in there?”

“It doesn’t matter, but he’ll die if I don’t get him out,” Coriolanus spoke with a strict voice, sending an odd feeling to your stomach. “I need you to go home, beautiful.”

“No! I won’t let you go in there, Coryo.” You stand now, grabbing his arm like he would leave any second. “Why can’t someone else do it?”

“Dr. Gaul—“

You roll your eyes, “Are you seriously going in there just because she told you to?”

“She threatened to send you in there.” He whisper-shouted at you, almost as if there were people around to watch. “Now listen and go home, Y/N.”

You crease your brows and scoff, pushing away from him as you leave the Citadel. Coriolanus shook his head at you, but left, heading toward the arena to get Sejanus out.

But of course, you were stubborn enough to not listen and follow him closely to the arena. The Peacekeepers wouldn’t let you go inside, but they did let you wait until they came out.

“Open the gate! Open the gate!”

You heard Coriolanus’ scream from inside the arena, making you whip your head toward the Peacekeepers. He ran faster at your figure being present, quickly engulfing your body as he made it out of the arena, protecting you. Coral’s pitchfork hit the metal bars, making the both of you flinch at the noise.

“Coriolanus!” You grab his face in your hands, scanning his features. “Are you okay? I didn’t—”

“What are you doing here?” He spoke through his teeth, taking in sharp breaths. “I told you to go home.”

“I couldn’t just leave you, Coryo.” You frown, your eyes are glassy at the way he breathed heavily and his dirtied figure. “Everywhere we go, I stay with you.”

“You are horribly headstrong, my love.” He leaned his forehead on yours, shutting his eyes.

“Watch those screens, gorgeous,” Coral says as she bangs the pitchfork on the gates. “ ‘Cause I may have missed you tonight, but your songbird’s next on my list.”

She left as you stood holding your boyfriend’s face, still searching him for any injuries.

“Where did you get hurt?” You murmur as he winces at the sudden pain he received after the rush disappeared. He reached for his back, pressing on the wound he obtained from inside. You take his hand and remove it from damaging the wound any further.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Coryo, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Sejanus repeated from his knelt position. “For all of it…”

You give him a sad look, running your hand up and down Coriolanus’ arm. “It’s not your fault, Sejanus.”

“It’s all my fault.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry.” The sound of car doors opening catches your attention, Strabo Plinth and his wife stepping out. “My father… Let the buying begin.”

Sejanus’ mother rushed over to him, bringing him into an embrace as they exchanged words. Strabo Plinth nodded in your and Coriolanus’ direction before Peacekeepers grabbed the both of you.

Dr. Gaul had a car waiting for him at the front of the arena, sending him over to the laboratory. Coriolanus made sure you tagged along for two reasons.

One, he had to make sure you were safe now that it was really late. Two, he was far more distraught that he murdered a tribute, needing your around for comfort.

You held Coriolanus’ jacket as he held your free hand, rubbing circles to calm himself as you entered the Gamemaker’s building.

“Snow stormed down. Down in his head. It stormed down on his head. And now the boy is dead.” Dr. Gaul spoke from her desk, hands put together as she spotted the two of you. She chuckled, “You’ve had enough of the games tonight, I see. Come sit, I’ll stitch you up.”

“You should go home now.” Coriolanus turned to you, taking his jacket from your arm.

“No.” You insist, standing your ground. “I can’t. Not after what happened inside—“

“Beautiful, go home. Don’t worry about me.” He stroked your cheek, his eyes glassy this time. “Promise me you’ll go home?”

“You are insufferable, Coriolanus.” You wipe a tear from his face. “I promise.”

“Take the car.” He presses a quick yet tender kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

You nod, “Love you too.”

For now, you left with Coriolanus’ love and worry for him while Coriolanus stayed with a more ruined conscience and the thought of keeping you safe.

With every thought consuming both of your minds, neither of you would know how much shit was about to go down and how much it would affect your lives.

All because of a deal.

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ikkyfics · 1 month ago

Text

Ask me to stay

Peter Maximoff x fem!mutant!reader

Summary: Peter stays by your side, bringing comfort, teasing, and a love that feels like home

Warnings: fluffy, light teasing, emotional comfort, mild suggestive language, established relationship, hurt&comfort

A/N: This was my first request and I was so excited! I hope you like it (and damn, I'm head over heels in love with it)

Masterlist

It was hard to explain how someone like Peter had become the most important person in your life. He was a force of nature: fast, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore. From the day you met, he had never seemed afraid of you.

No, in fact, he found your power fascinating. It was strange, honestly, especially after spending years surrounded by people who feared to hear your voice. Your parents always suspected, but it wasn’t until your ninth birthday, when you showed up with a brand-new BMW in front of the house – just a simple request and the salesman himself drove the car over – that they knew their little girl was not like the other kids.

“You have a voice that can make anyone do whatever you want? What kind of comic book villain are you?” he teased at your first meeting, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he leaned in closer, his dark eyes shining with curiosity.

“I’m not a villain, Peter,” you replied, crossing your arms in mock indignation.

“Oh, sure, Miss ‘do as I say.’ And I’m Captain America.” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If it were me, I’d make people bring me food all the time. Or let me win at Pong.”

“You don’t even need help with that, cheater.”

He laughed, tilting his head to the side as if about to respond, but instead, just looked at you for a few seconds. “I think that’s what I like about you,” he said suddenly, the tone surprisingly serious. “You stand up to me. It’s cool.”

You tried to hide the heat rising to your cheeks, but something in that moment stayed with you. Peter never looked at you like someone dangerous or different. To him, you were just… you.

And he never changed.

The years passed, and Peter continued to be the same boy who was impossible to keep up with. He spoke too fast, thoughts racing faster than his words, and loved to tease you.

“Are you really going to pretend you didn’t hear me?” he said, leaning against the doorframe, holding a Twinkie like it was a prize. “I know you’re in there. I’m going to count to three… One… Two—”

“Peter, if you annoy me, I swear I’ll make you leave here singing Abba in the square.” You hoped your voice sounded like a real threat, even though a smile fought to spread across your face.

“Oh, the power of the magic voice.” He rolled his eyes, taking an exaggerated bite of the sweet, cream smearing across his lips. “I knew I should’ve brought earplugs. What an amateur I am.”

And you just laughed, shaking your head as he kept talking, always jumping from one thought to the next without pause.

Your friendship was like that: full of teasing, laughter, and an intimacy that felt natural. It was easy to be with Peter, easy to forget the complicated world outside when he was by your side.

On that particular night, in the basement of his mother’s house, you realized just how much he meant to you. You had spent hours together, surrounded by old pillows and wrapped in the soundtrack Peter insisted was “essential to understand the decade.”

“You have to admit, Bowie is a genius,” he said, pointing at the tape player like it was a work of art.

“I admit he’s good,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “But not as good as Queen.”

“What?” Peter placed a hand on his heart, pretending to be offended. “Take that back now, or I’ll be forced to challenge you to a Pong duel!”

“You always want Pong,” you muttered, but the challenge in his eyes made you laugh.

You spent what felt like hours playing and arguing about bands while sharing the almost endless supply of sweets he always hid. After a lot of laughter and sugar, you both fell asleep side by side in the middle of the mess.

You woke up first, senses still numb. It took a moment to realize where you were, who you were with. Peter’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to his chest. His breath tickled the top of your head, and you could feel each rise and fall as he inhaled and exhaled. It was a feeling... good. Being held so tightly by him. You sighed, pressing your face into the curve of his neck. There was something there, a scent mixed with the warmth of his skin, that made your heart race.

Without realizing it, you gently pressed your nose to the soft flesh, letting his scent fill your lungs. The skin felt so soft, so smooth. What would it feel like to slide your lips across it? The thought triggered an alert in your mind. Friends didn’t think these things.

“Hmm… you’re smelling my neck now?” he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep sending shivers down your spine, making you feel even guiltier.

You pulled back as if you’d been shocked. “I… No!”

He opened one eye, the familiar glint of teasing starting to show. “Of course not. Didn’t notice a thing.”

You huffed, pushing his shoulder, determined to put some distance between you. “Stop, Peter.”

He laughed, but you felt the heat in your face as you looked away. Because, at that moment, you realized something you had been trying to ignore: you were in love with your best friend. Was there a greater tragedy?

And that thought stayed with you ever since, buried too deep for him to notice. Because, deep down, you knew Peter had always been the kind of person who could pull a smile out of you, even on your worst days. (...)

The week had been a real nightmare.

Since Monday, obligations seemed to pile up like an avalanche. Exhausting training sessions with the team, a particularly complicated mission involving a hostage rescue at an enemy base, and the weight of final college exams. Even your powers weren’t much help—quite the opposite. Convincing someone to cooperate with your siren voice required extreme mental control, and using it during the mission only added to the emotional exhaustion you were already carrying.

“You’ve got this, Siren’s Tear,” Kurt joked, trying to lighten the mood as he adjusted the communicator.

You smiled at him, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes. Siren’s Tear. It was a nickname Peter had made up, a mix of joke and admiration that had spread among the X-Men. Normally, it made you smile. But this week, it felt like an extra weight.

The mission had been chaos. Explosions, confrontations, and life-or-death decisions in a matter of seconds. Even with Kurt’s teleportation and Ororo’s storm control, the enemies were better prepared than expected. You found yourself cornered more than once, forcing your voice to a dangerous limit to make guards lower their weapons. When it was all over, you could barely stand.

And yet, there was the rest of the week waiting for you: piled-up studying, reports for Professor Xavier, and a persistent feeling of inadequacy that whispered you never did enough.

When Saturday finally arrived, your body and mind were at their breaking point. All you wanted was a moment of peace, a break from missions, responsibilities, and any reminder of how difficult it was to balance the two lives you led.

It was in this state that Peter showed up.

You barely had time to process his entrance, as he appeared the way he always did—unannounced, without ceremony, with that playful smile plastered across his face. He held a bag of Twinkies in his right hand and a copy of Space Invaders in the left, as if there was no chance in the world you wouldn’t want to spend the next few hours with him.

“Hey, Siren’s Tear, missed you,” he said, completely ignoring the pitiful state you were in. He threw the bag of snacks on the sofa and started rummaging through the stuff on the table, talking so fast you could barely keep up. “I thought maybe we could relax a bit. I know you’ve had a crazy week, but guess who got the highest score at the arcade? Me. Of course, it was me. And I thought—”

“Peter…” you started, your voice hoarse from the repeated use of your power over the past few days. The pressure in your head was so intense you could almost imagine it exploding.

“—that maybe you could try to beat my record. But good luck, because I’m unstoppable. Seriously, they should rename the game ‘Peter’s Challenge’. What do you think?”

“Peter, stop.” You looked at him with no trace of humor.

He finally looked at you, confused, but with that smile still there, as if he couldn’t imagine that you weren’t on the same wavelength as him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head, his dark eyes like coal examining you from head to toe. “You look like you could use a Twinkie. Or two.”

You closed your eyes, trying to take a deep breath, but fatigue and irritation finally broke through your self-control.

“I don’t need Twinkies, Peter!” you exploded, your voice louder than ever. “I need a minute of peace! Just one minute, without you talking nonstop, without you messing everything up, without you… Without you annoying me! Can you just disappear for a while?!”

The room fell into absolute silence. Both surprised, not knowing how to react. You had never shouted at him, not really. The weight of your words made your shoulders sink, a bitter taste in your mouth.

His eyes were wide, surprised, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Peter Maximoff, the boy who never stopped talking, was speechless.

You realized the gravity of what you’d said in the same instant, but before you could try to fix it, he took a step back, the usual smile replaced by something much sadder and more vulnerable. You had never seen him look so sad. Regret made your stomach burn.

“Wow,” he murmured, his voice low and hesitant, fingers fidgeting nervously. “I… didn’t know you could be influential without your powers.” He commented, his voice dry and brittle.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he raised a hand, as if asking you to stop.

“It's okay,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll do what you want. I’ll disappear.”

“Peter, don’t—” He disappeared long before you could finish your sentence.

The characteristic sound of his speed faded as quickly as he did, leaving only a heavy silence behind.

You stood there, frozen in the middle of the room, your hand still extended in the air, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over you, along with the emptiness left by him. Tears came before you could stop them, flowing hot and silent as you collapsed onto the bed.

Why did you have to explode at him? Why did you have to hurt the one person who always made a point of being by your side, even when you didn’t want to be?

You knew Peter had good intentions. He always had. He just didn’t know how to show them the right way.

But now, he was hurt.

And for the first time, you felt completely alone.

(...)

Three days.

Three days without a sign of Peter.

The Xavier mansion, always so full of life, felt suffocating now. You could barely look at the familiar faces around you without feeling a tightness in your chest. Everything seemed darker, slower, as if the world were mirroring the whirlwind inside you.

The others noticed, of course.

“Are you okay?” Jean asked, her voice soft as she touched your shoulder. You just shook your head, unable to respond. There were no words for the weight of regret you felt.

Even Logan, always so distant, paused as he walked past you in the hallway and gave you a concerned look. “If you need anything, anything at all, let me know,” he said, his voice low and serious.

But nothing helped.

You barely ate, barely slept. When you closed your eyes, all you saw was Peter’s face, the sad smile he tried to hide before disappearing.

“I’ll do what you want. I’ll disappear.”

His words echoed in your mind like a curse, a constant reminder that you had done what you never thought was possible: pushed Peter Maximoff away.

He had always been there. From the first moment, when you arrived at the mansion nervous and lost, he was the first to break the ice. You were startled by his repeated closeness. One moment you were alone, and the next he was right in front of you, all silver hair and easy smiles.

“So, what’s your power?” He leaned in, eyes narrowed as he looked at you with interest. “Can you make people give you free pizza? Because that would be impressive.”

It was a silly question, of course, but the way he said it—with that crooked smile and energy that was impossible to ignore—made you laugh for the first time in weeks.

And from then on, he had been a constant in your life.

You played Space Invaders until your hands hurt, stole treats from the kitchen on midnight missions, and spent hours in his basement (his mother’s) listening to records of bands he insisted were the best in the world. You knew he had tough moments, but he never let it show. He masked the pain with jokes and speed, and you loved him for it—the lightness he brought to your chaotic world.

Now, his absence felt like a hole in your chest.

On the third day, you were sitting on the living room sofa, staring at a book you hadn’t managed to get past the first paragraph, when you heard Kurt and Ororo talking in the distance. A draft of air carried his words to you.

“Peter didn’t show up for training again today,” Kurt said, his voice full of concern. “This isn’t like him.”

“He didn’t come to breakfast either,” Ororo replied. “Do you think he’s okay?”

Your heart sank the moment their words reached you. It was as if the world had stopped, leaving only the deafening sound of guilt pounding in your ears.

Peter wasn’t okay.

You knew that.

Rising, you left the room without saying a word, ignoring the curious looks from the others. Each step felt heavier than the last, but you knew what you needed to do.

Deep down, you already knew where to find him.

The Maximoff house had a peculiar charm that always made you smile. A mix of the '70s, nostalgia, and controlled chaos that perfectly suited Peter. But today, as you climbed the steps to the porch, your heart was too heavy to be swayed by the usual sense of comfort.

At the door, holding the stack of sweets and the pizza box—the favorite of both of you, with extra pepperoni and that crispy crust Peter always called “a gift from the gods”—you took a deep breath before knocking.

Mrs. Maximoff opened the door almost immediately, with her warm smile and curious eyes. “Oh, dear! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

She stepped back, holding your face for a moment. “You look... tired. Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Actually, I came to see Peter.”

Her expression softened, but her eyes shone with a touch of concern. “He’s in the basement. He spends most of his time down there lately.” She hesitated before adding, “He misses you, you know? And so do I. You bring good energy to this house.”

Her words were simple, but they hit hard. You gave a small, shy smile and a “Thank you,” before heading down to the basement, your heart pounding too fast in your chest.

As you descended the steps, a familiar soundtrack began to fill the space: the sound of an intense pinball game, interspersed with muffled music from a nearby radio.

Peter was in his element.

The first thing you noticed was the speed. He darted back and forth across the basement in a typical frenzy, alternating between playing the arcade game, taking bites of a Twinkie, and making quick adjustments to the stack of vinyl records by the old record player.

For a moment, he passed by too quickly, the movement so fast it looked like a silver blur. But even so, he paused long enough to take a good look at you. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the tired expression, and, most of all, the look of regret that seemed to weigh on you like a second skin. And, of course, you still looked beautiful as always, in one of those summer dresses that left your shoulders and collarbone on full display. God, he loved those dresses, and loved seeing you wearing them even more.

Peter went back to the arcade as if nothing had happened, but his game slowed down a bit, the movements less precise. It was enough for you to catch up.

He looked the same as always, but completely different. There was a crease between his eyebrows, his hair was tousled, and he looked disheveled.

You set the pizza and sweets on a makeshift table full of empty wrappers and called out, your voice wavering, “Peter, can we talk?”

He stopped pressing the buttons but didn’t turn around right away. For a moment, he stood there, his shoulders rigid, before straightening and turning to face you. “Sure. I’m all ears.” You felt small under his gaze.

The attempt to look nonchalant fooled no one. The tension in his jaw, the slight crease between his brows, and the arms crossed over his chest told another story.

You stepped forward, hesitating, really trying to find the right words. “I came to apologize. I was wrong, Peter. I was exhausted and overwhelmed, but that’s no excuse for yelling at you. I... I hurt you, and I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and... I really want things to go back to normal. For us to go back to how we were before.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head, letting out a long, heavy sigh. The gesture made your heart drop, as if you were falling off an endless cliff.

“No,” he said, his voice low but firm. A punch to the stomach wouldn’t have hurt as much.

“No?” you repeated, unable to hide the confusion and tightness that overtook you. Your heart sank in your chest, the feeling like falling.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, shifting his weight between his legs. “I don’t want things to go back to normal,” he explained, his voice even lower, almost a whisper.

You blinked, completely bewildered. “What does that mean?”

He took a step toward you but stopped, maintaining a small distance. His eyes met yours, and the intensity in his gaze made you hold your breath.

“It means that I’m sorry too,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion. “I shouldn’t have provoked you like that, especially when you were already exhausted. But... I do it because...” He stopped, clearly struggling to find the right words.

“Because what?” you urged, feeling your palms begin to sweat.

This was it—Peter was a tiny step away from ruining everything again. But damn it, he had to risk it. He couldn’t just pretend he wanted to be just friends. How could he? It was painful to be so close and so far away at the same time. He needed more; he wanted more.

“Because I like your attention, okay?” he finally blurted out, his voice louder than he intended. “I like when you look at me, even if it’s to tell me to shut up or roll your eyes. I like when you smile at my stupid jokes, even if you pretend you don’t find them funny. And, damn, I like being near you.”

“Peter…” you began, but he raised a hand to interrupt you.

“I know, I know,” he said, laughing nervously. “I’m terrible at this. That’s why I always hide everything behind jokes and teasing. But... it’s true. I like you. I really do. And I don’t want things to go back to normal, because, to be honest, ‘normal’ was never enough for me.”

You stood still, each of his words piercing deep into your chest, but in a sweet, almost painful way. He was there, completely vulnerable, and you didn’t know if it was possible to love him more than you did at that moment. Your heart slammed against your ribs with each painful beat.

He felt the same. Peter felt the same.

You felt tears prick your eyes, but you kept your gaze locked on him, taking in every word.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” you finally said, your voice heavy with emotion.

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?”

“It’s annoying,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But it’s also… everything I needed to hear.”

His eyes widened slightly, shocked by your confession. “Really?”

You shrugged, feigning casualness, but your smile gave you away. “So, are you going to kiss me or keep stalling?”

The surprise on his face turned into a mischievous grin. “Oh, so now it’s me who’s stalling?”

“Peter,” you warned, but he was already closer, so fast that you barely noticed the movement.

His hands cupped your face, purposefully slow, still with a small smile curled on his lips as he moved closer and closer. Your eyes closed as you felt his breath intertwine with yours, his sweet breath making you imagine that his mouth must be even sweeter. Gently, his lips molded to yours, remaining that way for a moment before he pulled back. You felt his chest rise and fall unevenly, as if he had run around the planet. Peter murmured something, too fast for your ears to understand.

The next second his lips pressed against yours again, hungry. His hand went down your spine, firming on your waist to pull you closer, crushing you against his chest as his lips explored your mouth. You sighed as you felt his tongue, soft and warm, slide across yours, kissing you deeply. He kissed you for what could have been an eternity, stealing the air from your lungs, turning you into a fragile creature dependent on the caresses of that wicked mouth.

When you separated, he refused to stop kissing you, rubbing his lips along your jaw, leaving love bites on the side of your neck, adoring every part of you, as if to make up for all the lost time. Small noises of pleasure escaped your mouth, your knees barely seemed capable of keeping you upright, so your hands quickly found support on his broad shoulders. “Peter.” You sighed weakly, feeling your face heat as he straightened, leveling your faces. His mouth was red and swollen, with a crooked smile, his eyes darker than ever.

“I should do this more often,” he teased, his voice low and husky, his fingers still kneading the soft flesh of your waist.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile. “Maybe.”

He chuckled, gently brushing your hair away from your face, looking at you more closely. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone more serious now.

“A little,” you admitted, shrugging, afraid of ruining the moment.

“Then I think it’s time for you to rest.”

“But—” He didn’t allow any objections, guiding you to the bed nearby, wide enough for both of you. He settled down beside you, pulling you to lie against him. His fingers traced calming circles on your back. “You can’t send me away anymore, got it?”

You nodded, your face pressed against the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent that dulled your senses. The accumulated exhaustion finally began to ease. “But I can still make you dance to ABBA in the street.” You joked, smiling as he shuddered dramatically.

“Do your worst, you little troublemaker.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then another to your temple, and countless others until he reached your ear. “Ask me to stay,” he whispered, and just because he could, he nipped the sensitive skin just below.

You shivered, holding him tighter in your arms, feeling his chest vibrate with a silent laugh. Raising your face, you used your siren voice. “Stay with me, Peter.”

His eyes widened in surprise, staring at you for long seconds before his lips curled into a devilish grin. “Fuck, can you do that again? Please, we need to test your powers when—”

“Peter.” You cut him off with a laugh, burying your face back against his chest, feeling your cheeks burn at the direction the conversation had taken. “Later, okay? Can we just rest now?”

“You don’t have to ask twice, love.”

The familiar sense of security you always felt around him returned in full force, but this time there was something more. Something deeper, more intimate.

With your face pressed to his neck, you hesitated for a moment before placing a soft kiss there, a silent thank-you for everything he was.

Peter tightened his embrace, and for the first time in days, you felt whole.

#quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximof x reader #romance #idiots in love #evan peters #request #ask me to stay #fanfiction #fluffy #hurt/comfort #x men #evan peters x reader

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