#and 'i can feel your heart beating under my skin and the beating of your heart is making me bleed from within' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vantetaes · 3 days ago

Text

NEIGHBORLY FUN🫧🥂

LAWYER! NANAMI X CAM GIRL BLACK FEM READER!

SUMMARY!!! yn is a camgirl, working towards her dream of luxury, when a view realizes how close she actually is, how far will he go?

WARNINGS!!! 18+!!!, barely a relationship established before sex, oral (f & m receiving), missionary (?), ignore errors

the dim glow of your ring light illuminates your room in soft, diffused radiance. set up just right to cast a flattering light across your rich, smooth brown skin, accentuating the warm undertones that gleam in the dim ambiance. your hair is messily bunched into a light pink claw clip, holding the mess of waves out of your face and shimmering lipgloss.

THE WEEKND plays in the background from your orb, sound filling the semi-new apartment space. bouncing off the laminate flooring and smooth ceilings.

“pick up your phone, the party’s finished and i want you to know, im all alone”

you’re tipsy tonight, maybe more than tipsy. the almost-empty bottle of rosé sits precariously on your vanity, lipgloss around the rim catching a bit of the light as you finish adjusting your outfit. a sheer black robe drapes over your shoulders, teasingly loose. beneath it, you wear a lingerie set that delicate. lace tracing over your curves, hugging your skin in ways you didn’t know material could. brown star shaped pasties with Y-N encrusted on each of the cups with a small star shape beside them.

youd been pre-gaming, dancing to your favorite playlist as you got ready, letting the alcohol loosen your inhibitions. it always helps with the nerves, even though by now, you’re a pro at this.

“i always want you when im, coming down”

but in your wine-addled haze, your finger must’ve slipped, because the stream starts before you’re even aware.

still, your hips move like water to the beat of your music. letting the white wine run its course through your system. your faux doe furry slippers shuffle across your bedroom floor, flipping on a sunset lamp tucked in the corner. casting a warm pink and purple across your body.

your playlist shuffles, AGORA HILLS begins softly.

“ooo, this my shit!” you giggle to yourself, straightening up bed to get ready for your stream.

youd been a camgirl for around three years now. the only management you’ve ever had, was yourself. if something had to be done, you knew to only rely on yourself.

hence why you’re standing in a penthouse in a part of the city only neurosurgeons and lawyers can afford. it was something to prove for yourself.

so how did you manage to fuck up so bad?

the laptop sits open on your vanity, camera capturing you as you sway to the rhythm of the music. your hips roll in a fluid motion, the silky fabric of your robe clinging to your skin before shifting away with each movement, the robe slips from one shoulder as you spin lazily. you don’t notice the faint red light. not yet. instead, you’re caught up in the feeling, in the confidence that blooms under the dim light and the heady rush of alcohol.

“kissing i hope they caught us, whether they like or not”

you reach for the mail you’d left on the vanity, shuffling through it absentmindedly. the camera catches the briefest glimpse of an envelope. just a flash, but enough to reveal the name of your apartment complex in bold, black letters. it’s only on the screen for a moment, but for someone watching closely, it’s more than enough.

“i wanna brag about it, i wanna tie the knot”

pushing all the white envelopes to the side, your eyes can’t help but to draw to the pink screen.

HOTGIRLHOTFUN. com

➤YOU ARE NOW LIVE…

your brows knit together as you squint, trying to focus through the haze.

that’s when you see it.

the little red flickering light. the live chat scrolling at the side of the screen. the usernames. familiar, faceless, hungry.

you freeze, breath catching in your throat.

“oh my god.”

the realization hits like a slap to the face, sobering you in an instant. your heart pounds as you lurch toward the laptop, the chair scraping against the floor in your rush.

“shit—shit! no, no, no.”

your hands fumble over the keys, trying to stop the stream, but the alcohol makes your fingers clumsy, your movements frantic. the robe slips further, hanging precariously off your arms, and you’re too panicked to notice that your bra strap was following suit.

the chat is exploding now, messages flying by faster than you can process.

userano321: lmaooo wait, is she drunk?

kimgofmacity: this is the realest ive ever seen her

barbbigb: QUEEN, WE LOVE YOU!

anonymous000: what was that mail? did anyone catch that??

gnroyalty: i could’ve sworn i just saw her apartment name bro

your stomach churns as you catch the tail end of that last comment. your mind races, trying to piece together what you might’ve done. what they might’ve seen. the envelope. the damn envelope.

“i wanna show you off”

“god, im so fucking stupid!” you mutter under your breath, slamming the laptop shut with more force than necessary. the music cuts off abruptly, leaving the room oppressively silent except for your ragged breathing.

and someone was watching closely.

two doors down, in an apartment that mirrors yours, nanami kento sits at his desk, his laptop open before him. he’s still in his work clothes, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, tie loosened just enough to give him a semblance of relief after a long day. the glass of whiskey in his hand is barely touched, attention elsewhere.

he hadn’t meant to stay up this late, but the notification from the site had popped up, and he couldn’t resist.

not when it was you.

for the past month, you’ve been his escape. after endless hours at the office, after the pressure of being the reliable one, the composed one, the perfect one, he’s found solace in the way you move, the way you smile at the camera as if you’re looking directly at him. he knows it’s an illusion, that you’re performing for countless others, but it doesn’t matter. im those moments, it feels personal.

and now, watching you move in your apartment, the lightweight robe your wore threatening to give your whole audience a show. your real, unpolished self. it feels too personal. his breath hitches as he notices the envelope flash on screen, shooting up from his lazed position in the chair. his sharp eyes catching the familiar name of the building.

his heart pounds in his chest, a mixture of disbelief and something darker, something possessive. you’re here. not just in the abstract sense of existing in the same world, but here, in the same building.

he watches as you dance, as you laugh softly to yourself, oblivious to the fact that you’re live. There’s an edge of guilt twisting in his gut, but it’s drowned out by the thrill of knowing. of seeing you like this. unguarded, unfiltered, real.

and then you notice.

you glance toward the laptop, a fleeting look at first, before your eyes widen. the realization hits like a freight train, and you scramble toward the screen, a string of curses falling from your lips as you reach to end the stream. but it’s too late.

for nanami, it’s already too late. the image of you, raw and vulnerable, is burned into his mind. and now, with the knowledge of just how close you are, he knows he’ll never be able to watch you the same way again.

the outdoor cafe is rather warm. the smell of roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries filling the air as you stir your latte absentmindedly. the ceramic cup clinks softly against the saucer each time you set it down, your hands trembling slightly. across from you, shoko sits with one leg crossed over the other, her sharp eyes watching you intently as you explain.

“and then i saw the chat.” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

“and i realized i was streaming the whole time. the whole time, shoko. this shits so dumb, how could i be so dumb?”

“so… you gave them a free show?” she exhales a puff of smoke from the cigarette she’s holding, tilting her head slightly to the side.

“basically.” you wince, lowering your head as you groan.

she doesn’t laugh, which surprises you. instead, she ashes her cigarette into the tray and leans forward slightly, resting her chin in her hand.

“so, what are you gonna do about it?”

you blink, caught off guard by her calm tone.

“i- i don’t know. i deleted the stream as fast as i could, but people were definitely recording. and—” you glance around nervously, lowering your voice even more.

“i accidentally flashed my building’s name on the mail.”

shoko leans back, dragging on her cigarette again, pinching the bridge of her nose before blowing the smoke out.

“well. that’s not great, yn.” she says bluntly, blowing more smoke upward.

“but it’s not the end of the world. just tighten up your security, maybe invest in some blinds if you’re gonna keep doing this. and for god’s sake, no more drinking before you stream.” her tone was sharp and clean. almost too much for your situation.

you nod slowly, taking in her words. she’s right, of course. she usually is, though her delivery could use some work.

“and hey.” she adds, tapping ash from her cigarette.

“don’t beat yourself up too much. shit happens. just handle it like the big girl i know you are and move on.”

“thanks, shoko. i love you, i needed that.” you give her a small, grateful smile.

“anytime. now go home and get your head on straight, i love ya too.”she waves you off with a flick of her wrist.

you finish your latte and gather your things, stepping out into the crisp air as you head back to your apartment. the walk is short, but your mind is heavy with everything that’s happened. as you step into the building and make your way down the hall, your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

you glance up and see him. tall, broad-shouldered, with a serious expression that makes your breath hitch for reasons you don’t fully understand. his blond hair is neatly combed, and his sharp suit clings to him in a way that makes you wonder where he’s coming from.

as he passes, the scent hits you first. warm, woodsy, with a hint of spice. it’s intoxicating, wrapping around you like a second skin. you don’t even realize you’ve stopped walking until he glances at you, his brow lifting slightly in acknowledgment.

he was fine.

“good evening.” he says, his voice deep and steady, the kind that lingers even after the words are gone.

“um, evening.” you blink, shaking yourself out of your daze. you manage, your voice softer than you intended.

as he fully walks past, you catch another whiff of his cologne, and something compels you to turn.

“wait- uh, excuse me?”

he stops, looking over his shoulder. “yes?”

“i don’t think we’ve met. i’m yn. i just moved in a month ago.” you take a step closer, suddenly feeling a little bold.

he turns fully now, his expression polite but unreadable. “nanami kento. i live two doors down.”

“nice to meet you, nanami.” you smile, offering your hand.

“likewise.” his handshake is firm but not overpowering, his palm warm against yours while the rings he wore were cold.

as he pulls his hand back, you catch a faint trace of his cologne again, and it lingers even after he’s walked away. for some reason, you can’t help but smile as you turn toward your door, your mind wandering to thoughts you probably shouldn’t entertain.

pushing open the door to your apartment, boxes flooded your living room, labels signaling location sticking out in bold black lettering. placing your bag down on the granite island, your elbow props up your head, letting out a deep sigh.

deciding to push every box into its home, you find yourself biting off way more than you you could chew.

what brought you to this realization? the box labeled GLASSWARE. you bought in bulk just in case any got harmed in transport. only to come to find you have several glass plates and bowls stacked inside a flimsy cardboard box.

the only box your dad brought upstairs.

bent down to your knees, a new set and fingers wedged between your white furry carpet and box, struggling to find grip.

finally dropping it, you sigh in frustration, the sound coming out a little louder and jagged.

flopping onto the black couch, your hand wipes across your eyes.

“am i really gonna have to pull all those dishes out and walk them to-“

before you could continue, a knock at the door startles you.

you rise cautiously, brushing your hands on your legs before padding to the door. peeking through the peephole, your breath catches when you see him.

nanami.

you hesitate for a moment before unlocking the door, pulling it open just enough to meet his gaze. his expression is calm, though there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes. wearing gray sweats and a large basketball jersey.

“hi.” you say, your voice tentative. “everything okay?”

“i was actually about to ask you the same.” he replies, his deep voice steady.

“i heard a lot of sighing and maybe a bird? thought I should check in.”

“im so sorry no, im just having trouble moving my kitchen boxes… to the kitchen? my dad put them in my living room and it’s just so-“ you notice yourself rambling before tight-lining your lips together.

“sorry.” he just responds in a laugh, hand brushing the back of his head.

“need some help? i finally have a off day and i wouldn’t mind.”

you hesitate, unsure if you should let him into the chaos of your apartment, but something about the steady kindness in his gaze puts you at ease. finally, you step back, opening the door wider.

“okay-” you say softly. “thank you.”

as he steps inside, his presence feels grounding, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the whirlwind of your night. the scent of his cologne lingers as he moves past you, and you can’t help but feel a little lighter knowing you’re not dealing with the mess alone.

you close the door behind him, still feeling a bit flustered as nanami surveys the mess in your living room. his expression remains calm and focused, his hands resting on his hips as he nods toward the heavier boxes stacked near the wall.

“those for the kitchen?” he asks, his voice low and steady.

“uh, yeah.” you reply, brushing a curl out of your face. “but they’re really heavy, you really don’t have to—”

“it’s fine.” he says, already moving toward the boxes.

his jersey shifts slightly as he crouches, revealing a glimpse of toned shoulders and arms. a tattoo covering the majority of his upper arm. the loose fit of the fabric clings just enough to hint at the broad, solid frame beneath it. your eyes flicker downward, and you notice his gray sweatpants sitting low on his hips, highlighting the bulge sitting prominent but obviously not at its peak.

you snap your gaze away quickly, heat rising to your cheeks as he lifts one of the heavier boxes like it weighs nothing. his hands grip the sides firmly, veins faintly visible on his forearms as he straightens up.

“where in the kitchen do you want these?” he asks, his tone casual, as if he doesn’t notice the way your attention lingers for just a second too long.

“shit, sorry.” you manage, pointing toward the counter. “by the cabinets, if that’s okay.”

he nods and heads into the kitchen, the sound of his steps against your hardwood floor grounding you in the moment. you follow him instinctively, watching as he places the box down carefully, then goes back for another.

“you’ve been moving a lot of heavy stuff on your own?” he asks as he grabs a second box.

“yeah, i mean- it’s not a big deal. i’ve done all of this alone already.” you say, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt with one hand while the other pans around the partially decorated space.

“you should’ve asked for help.” he glances over his shoulder as he carries the box, his gaze steady.

“i didn’t want to bother anyone and i didn’t know anyone.” you admit, feeling a little sheepish.

“it’s not a bother. better to ask than risk getting hurt.”he says simply, setting the second box down in the kitchen.

his tone is firm but not unkind, and you feel a strange sense of comfort in his practicality. as he goes back for another box, you notice how the fabric of his jersey clings to his back with each movement, the sweatpants hanging loose but perfectly fitting at the same time.

“you really didn’t have to do this.” you say again, your voice softer this time.

he sets the last box down and straightens up, turning to face you.

“it’s not a problem. besides, it’s safer this way. you shouldn’t be lifting this stuff on your own.” he replies, brushing his hands off on his sweatpants.

his eyes are locked onto you, noticing how much small your frame was compared to his. of course he’d envisioned having you under him, gasping for air, something to bring you back down from him wrecking havoc on your swollen cunt.

“well, thank you. i owe you, i mean it.” you smile, feeling a warmth that isn’t just from the embarrassment of the situation.

“you don’t owe me anything. just glad you’re okay.” he shakes his head slightly, his tone as practical as ever.

his words are simple, but the sincerity behind them warms you in a way you didn’t expect. as he heads toward the door, you find yourself hesitating, not ready for him to leave just yet.

“wait.” you say, your voice soft but enough to make him pause.

“yes?” he turns back to you, his expression neutral but attentive.

you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his steady gaze.

“um… would you want to stay for dinner? i was already planning to cook, and it’s the least i can do to thank you.”

his brows lift slightly, the faintest trace of surprise flickering across his face. he doesn’t respond immediately, and you rush to add-

“but no pressure! i just thought, you know, since you’re already here-”

“dinner sounds good. thank you.” his lips curve into a small, almost imperceptible smile, and he nods.

“great! it’s nothing fancy, but make yourself comfortable. i’ll get started.” you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, a smile breaking across your face.

your apartment is dimly lit except for the spotlight on you. candles flicker on the table in the background, adding a sultry ambiance. you’ve carefully arranged the scene: soft blankets draped over the couch, pillows positioned just so, and your favorite playlist humming low in the background.

“honestly, honestly im trying to stay focused”

you press go live, the familiar rush of adrenaline hitting as the chat begins to populate almost instantly.

HOTGIRLHOTFUN. com

➤ YOU ARE NOW LIVE…

messages flood in almost immediately.

user123: she’s back !

xxhunter: finally, she’s live.

k1nklover TOP GIFTER*: red’s your color, baby.

joshjnine: take that shit off we came for a show

you smirk at the screen, leaning forward slightly so the delicate strap of your top shifts just enough to tease. your nails, freshly painted to match your lingerie. click softly against the keyboard as you type a quick response.

“hi, babies. missed you.”

your voice follows the words as you say them aloud, smooth and low, letting the sound wrap around the airwaves. the chat explodes in response, and you take a moment to enjoy the attention, the way they hang onto your every word, every move.

“i just need some dick, i just need some love”

you shift back on the couch, crossing one leg over the other slowly, deliberately, the soft fabric of your robe brushing against your skin. your curls fall over one shoulder as you tilt your head, giving the camera just the right angle.

“so-” you begin, your tone teasing, taunting the viewers. “what are we getting into tonight?”

the chat scrolls faster than you can read, but certain comments catch your eye:

xxhunter: put her on camera pls

user567: i’d do anything to be there with you right now

k1nklover TOP GIFTER*: take off the bra

darkprince: spin for us, baby. let us see everything.

“girls can't never say they want it, girls can't never say how”

you chuckle softly, letting the sound linger as you rise from the couch. the robe slips from your shoulders as you stand, pooling at your feet like water.

“you want to see everything?” you ask, your tone playful, as you turn slowly, letting your body move with the rhythm of the music.

“girls can't never say they need it, girls can't never say now, oh, now”

the camera captures every curve, every angle, and you know exactly what you’re doing. the confidence feels electric, sparking through your veins as the chat fills with messages. compliments, requests, declarations of love.

but beneath it all, there’s a small, nagging thought in the back of your mind. ever since the last stream, you’ve been extra cautious. the blinds are drawn tightly, the mail hidden away, the camera carefully positioned to avoid any unwanted slips.

still, you can’t help but glance at the corner of your screen every few minutes, double-checking that everything is as it should be. the viewers don’t notice, of course. all they see is you, commanding their attention with every glance, every sway of your hips.

you move closer to the camera, leaning in so your face fills the frame, your lips curving into a slow, inviting smile.

“tell me what you want tonight,” you purr, your voice dripping with honey. “i’m all yours.”

one comment in particular catches your eye.

nknt0: strip, slow.

catching your glossed lip in between your teeth, you hum. crouching down to get on your knees, breast spilling a little over the cup of your bra as you go on fours. crawling to the laptop, your fingers click against the keys.

“then i think we should get a different song on here. any requests?”

your eyes scan the rushed chat, only scanning for one name in particular. the pink screen shines brightly, adding more luminance to your makeup.

then.

nknt0: pussy fairy.

without a second thought, you type the songs name into spotify, slicking play.

“i know you like fucking me, i can tell by the way you in love with me”

standing from the position, you back up enough to have your full body in frame. reaching on the table? your hand grabs hold of shimmering body oil. twisting this cap off, you casually take a few drops into your hand. rubbing the liquid across your chest, dipping your hand in to get your perky buds.

“you can’t get enough of me, well i guess it’s lookin like you stuck with me”

turning your back towards the camera, you look over your shoulder. eyes the only thing visible to them as you pull down one bra strap, sliding your arm through the hoop, you repeat on the other side. your fingers fiddle in the back, with a pout on your lips, you turn around. the bra only being held up by the clamps in the back. you obviously knew how to remove your bra, but for the sake of duration and money, you exaggerate.

“i wish one of you could help me take this thing off, babies.” your tone was nothing short of seductive.

“oh! got it.”

with one swift motion, the flimsy fabric falls to the floor. deciding to sit on the couch instead, you reposition the laptop.

“fuck all yo free time, you don’t need no me time, that’s you and me time”

plopping down on the cheetah print blanket, on your back, head still turned towards the chat. your hands run over your body softly, drawing out slight gasps and moans as your fingers run over your hardened nipples. you take hold of one of your breast, teasing the bud, running one hand down your abdomen to the inside of your underwear.

“we be getting so long that dick make my soul smile, that dick make me so damn proud”

fingers slip inside the tight hole, causing you to arch your back a little. collecting the slick that pooled in the red lace panties, you remove your hand slowly, twisting your body over to show the camera how slippery your middle and ring fingers were.

xxhunter: fuck

user567: lick them clean

k1nklover TOP GIFTER*: you’re such a nasty girl

k1nklover sent $250! ‘put them in your mouth’

darkprince: you’re so fucking hot, i wish my gf looked like you

userano321: let me come eat that pussy

kimgofmacity: she feeling it tonight ig lmao

barbbigb: icon icon icon legendary

nknt0: stop fucking playing with me

your eyes widen at the last comment, smirk building across your lips. without a second thought, you place the coated fingers into your mouth, humming at the taste.

“should i use a toy tonight?” the chat continues at the same frantic speed.

“if someone sends $400 you have a deal. or i can just keep playing with my nipples for the next thirty min-“

before you could get the rest of your sentence out.

nknt0 sent $400! ‘do it’

k1nklover sent $400! ‘put them in your mouth’

you reach beside the laptop, grabbing hold of the pink bunny shaped vibrator. placing the toy beside you, laying back on the couch, you push the laptop back with your toes, giggling as the viewers freak out. playing with your boobs, your slowly run your hands down the dip of your waist, fingers grabbing hold of the thin fabric. you twist, bending over in front of the camera, pulling down the panties. you feel the cool air hit your exposed cunt, the arousal dripping down your leg. reaching over to take the toy, from behind you tease your throbbing hole.

the main section of the toy runs up and down the opening. sliding in fully once, you let out a louder moan, other hand grabbing hold of the blanket. fucking the toy in and out of your sloppy cunt, moans slipping from your lips at the traction.

sitting back down, you use your coffee table to prop your legs up, dripping pussy on display to the whole stream. fingers click against the buttons at the white base of the toy. the vibrations run chills up your body, accentuating your nipple from the ripple. the ‘ears’ of the bunny press against the side of your swollen clit as you push the toy inside of you.

nanami watches. he watches as you slip the pale pink toy in and out of your hole. watching intensely as you fall apart, eyes glossed and low. your other hand grazes your titties, playing gently with them while the other abused your pussy.

a ring of white began forming around the base of the dildo. the sounds of your moans filled his airpods, dick growing harder for you with every thrust.

it should be him. he should be there right now, fucking you in front of all 10 thousand people. letting them see you crumble under his touch. watching as he pounds you down on his length, giving you several orgasms before he finishes inside you.

he couldn’t take it. he wanted to storm down to your apartment, bang on the door, and take you right there.

pulling the toy out, your body shakes in stimulation, clear liquid shooting out of you. moans rack your body as you reinsert the toy, still going. tears threatened to spill from your eyes, too blurry to focus on anything the chat was saying. instead just hearing the money sound from viewers sending funds.

you’re too caught up in fucking yourself, you barely hear the knock at your door. it comes once more before you realize you’re not overthinking.

“shit.” you mutter under your breath, scrambling to turn off the stream, tossing the toy under the couch. the chat is still scrolling, messages coming in fast, but you barely glance at them as you close your laptop.

the knock comes again, louder this time, and panic sets in. you look down at yourself, soaked in squirt and cum, oil everywhere. you couldnt slip on the see through robe, grabbing the blanket instead and wrap it around yourself as you hurry to the door.

“who is it?” you call out, your voice a little shaky.

“it’s nanami.” comes the deep, familiar voice from the other side.

your stomach flips. of all people, why him? you glance at the room, making sure nothing incriminating is in view, then tighten the blanket around yourself before unlocking the door.

when you open it, his presence fills the doorway, tall and broad, his expression a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite place. his eyes flicker over you briefly, taking in the blanket, the faint sheen of sweat on your skin, before settling on your face.

“nanami?” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “what- what are you doing here?”

he doesn’t answer right away, his jaw working as if he’s trying to find the right words. finally, he speaks, his tone low and tense.

“was.. bored at my place. was wonder if you wanted to hang but if you’re busy-“ he eyes scan your portly covered body. he could still easily see through the thin blanket you tried to hide behind with help from your ring light.

“um yeah sure just let me put on something different. come in!”

the tall framed man slips in beside you, eyes daring to fall back on your body as you shuffled past to your room. he walks over to your couch, taking a seat on the other side of where you just sat. he couldn’t help but stare at the black laptop, finger tapping a little at his lip before reaching for the device.

just as he knew. the pink tab sat open, chat still rolling as he peered at the amount sitting in your counter.

➤ YOU HAVE EARNED 3.65KUSD FOR THIS STREAM SO FAR

his eyes widen, still watching as the count rises with every passing second. should he quit his job he spent all his life building for to do this?

“nanami? you okay in there?” you ask, shuffling for something decent to wear. deciding on a loose pair of shorts and a large football jersey.

“im good!” he responds, still scrolling around the site, being model of your camera placement.

darkprince: who the fucks the guy?

userano321: woah first cameo?

kimgofmacity: is that a dude?

nanami smiles a little before closing the laptop but not all the way. you rush from your room, makeup refreshed and wearing a new outfit. well, clothes in general. scanning the area, your heart sinks only to realize you didn’t see your bra under your glass coffee table.

“fuck.” you gasp a little.

“what’s up?” nanami asks, standing from his spot on the couch.

“uh, nothing, do you wanna go to yours?”

to be truthful, nanami had also seen the lace fabric. it was tearing him down to know you were a few feet in front of him and all he could do was stare.

“i thought we could, stay here? you have more shows to watch and i wouldn’t mind ordering us some food.”

you freeze, not sure how to act. your usual carefree attitude feels a little more strained tonight, the worry still there, lurking in the background.

“uh, I was thinking of something light. maybe a movie or some random series.”

“sounds good.” he replies, settling back into the couch.

but you can’t quite relax. you keep checking your phone, making sure there’s no notifications from your livestream, even though you know everything’s fine. it’s ridiculous, but the idea of him knowing about your streams—or worse, recognizing what you’d been doing, where you’ve been doing it. makes your stomach twist.

trying to brush it off, you grab the remote and start flicking through your streaming options, but your mind keeps wandering. the soft sound of nanami’s voice fills the air as he comments on some movie suggestions, but all you can think about is whether he’s noticed how

wet the spot he was touching was.

“you okay?” he tilts his head and catches your gaze, sensing something’s off.

you blink, caught off guard. “yeah, yeah. just- tired, sorry.”

“tired?” he repeats, clearly unconvinced.

“ i could go? im sorry for intruding on any-“ your hand grabs hold of his rather large forearm, pulling him back down.

“no! no i meant- sorry i didnt mean to yell. i mean stay, you’re here, i wanna hang with you.” he couldn’t help but stare down at your small frame being swallowed by the black jersey. sitting on the couch on both knees, batting your full lashes up at him. he licks his lips, hungry.

“okay. just let me know if you need me to go.”

“i want you here.” he plops back down on the couch, this time closer. the side of his body touching yours. you land on a psychological thriller while nanami decides to order food. the two of you bicker back and forth about what the plots twist could be.

“i think he’s actually the killer and the little girl isn’t actually possessed.” he munched on a steak bite smothered in sauce, you doing the exact same, dipping the meat into the small black container of sauce.

“that’s maybe the dumbest thing i’ve heard in awhile nami, are you sure you’re a lawyer?” the man scoffs before giving you a joking eye roll.

“for your information im like ten years older than you and i’ve been doing this for years.” he says matter-of-factly, pushing his empty container inside the cheep plastic bag, holding his hand out for your empty bowl.

“sorry, daddy, damn. forgot you were a senior citizen.”

his heart pumps at the nickname, all the blood rushing straight to his dick. shifting in his sweatpants, he coughs, relieving tension in his throat.

“oh shit- sorry i didnt mean to call you that.” your hand shoots to cover your mouth, sitting a little taller on your knees as they dig into the black cushion. the way your hand falls naively on his chest, apologies slipping through your lips. your blown out body waves create almost a curtain around your face as you sink back down to a sitting position. head hung low.

“say it again.” head shooting back up, vision being crowded by hair, you stare at the blonde man in shock.

“huh?” you mumble, watching as he stands from his position on the couch.

“did i stutter, yn? i said say it again, didn’t i?”

you can’t quite understand what got into the man but his eyes were different now. the way he adjusted the drawstrings to his pants. staring down at you, smirk covering his face, as if you were his prey.

“nanami what’s gotten into-“

he wastes no time reaching across the coffee table to grab the laptop. the stream continuing. your eyes flash from the screen to the man staring at you.

“that’s not mine.” he laughs, pushing it back so that both of you were in frame now.

“sure. what, do you think im actually fucking stupid? you don’t think i know what you were doing before you answered the door?”

your heart raced, mind scattered with excuses and explanations yet none stuck. would he tell your landlord this was the way you were making rent? did he want to use it as blackmail? why?

“what’re you doing this for?” you say softly, staring at the man who’s expression softened.

“what? baby no, im not weirded out or anything. ah- if im being honest, your last stream-“ you body shoots up from its spot on the couch, staring at the man in utter disbelief.

“you? found out where i live- you actually came to where i live? do you even really live here?” come to think of it, you’ve never actually seen him entering the apartment.

“yn. calm down. yes i actually live here, i can’t take you to mine if we need to. baby, come here.” you walk back cautiously. sitting with distance, he pulls you back over, throwing his arm around your waist. you watch on the stream, the comments start up again. his head dips between your head and shoulder, lips pressed softly against your neck.

“say my name again.”

“daddy.” you moan out, earning a rasp from the man before you’re flipped over on all fours on the couch. pulling down your shorts, his head dips down, admiring the still glossy view.

“no panties either, it’s like you wanted me, princess. am i right?” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to your core. your head plops on the side, viewing as your chat went belligerent.

“answer me pretty girl, am i right?” his tongue licks from your swollen clit up to your hole, grasping at air.

“yes, sir! please- please do that again!” tears prick your eyes, tension building under the surface as you try to keep your cool.

his somewhat cool tongue begins to pump in and out of you, sounds of friction filling the room. his large hands grab hold of your arms, pinning them behind you back as he continued to add spit into eating you.

he’s lost in sweet you are. how wet you were against his face. how the soft skin of your thighs cup his cheeks, nose right below your hole, poking at the foreign area. you tasted like heaven. the sweet slick drove him crazy, unable to pull away from any of it. he wanted to eat all of you, unapologetically.

“oh- fuck your tongue feels so- fuck!” a string of curses leave your lips. feeling the man’s tongue swirl around your swollen clit, almost folding you in half. his unoccupied hand starts to remove his sweatpants fully.

“im gonna cum, daddy.” you warn, vision blurring. he doesn’t answer, instead he continues to fuck his lengthy tongue into you. you release over the man’s mouth, body going limp. laughing, he pulls away.

“oh, you’re not done.”

your pink glossed lips wrap around the man’s tip, back arched on the couch. his hand held your hair back, watching as you try to fit all of him in your mouth, only to fall short before your gag reflex is triggered. vibrations from the man laughing draws a frown from you.

“what’s wrong, princess. can’t be up the shit you talk to them? try that with me. get on your knees.”

before you could process, you were on your knees in front of the man. he still had hold of your hair, looking down at you. erens eyes dart up at the chat

xxhunter: make her choke on your cock

user567: train her throat

k1nklover TOP GIFTER*: how tf did he get to fuck her before me, this shits lame now.

randobando: i wish i was both of them

eren begins to gently lower your head down his length, watching as you try your hardest to go all the way down his massive cock, tears pricking at your eyes.

“stick your tongue out, baby. say ahh.” you follow the directions, throat vibrating. although it felt strange, it was working. your head bobbed up and down, slowly gaining more.

with low and red eyes, you look up at the man. he’s lost in a haze, enjoying how your throat was closing around him. eyes roll to the back of his head as you speed up, adding both your hands around him.

“oh my fucking god, you’re so good at this.” head falling back onto the couch, you hum, continuing to tease his swollen tip with your tongue. drawing your name on it in spit.

“lay on your back.” without hesitation you follow his orders, laying on your back. he hovers over you, taking both feet, giving your white polished toes kisses before throwing them over his shoulders.

without hesitation, you’re full of the man. gasping at how far open you were being stretched, youd never had anything like this before. your nails seek solace on the man’s back, dragging ruby red lines down his torso. his starts slow, digging into your g-spot, getting a feel of how far he could actually take you.

his strokes slow yet unforgiving, gummy walls trying to keep his length inside as he pulled out. your arousal covered his dick, creating loud slap,slap,slap! sounds.

“so fucking sweet, knew you would be.” his head cocks to the side, admiring his view. you fucked out under him, tears falling from the squinted corners of your eyes.

“im gonna cum, baby!” you warn, the burning sensation running circles around your insides. you could feel his pace quicken, trying to get every bit of a reaction. it’s like he was locked in a trance, unable to stop abusing your puffy cunt. his rhythm never faltered as he drilled into you, pressing your body deeper into the couch.

“me too- fuck.” as if on que, you both finish at the same time, bodies dropping from exhaustion. and whatever in the moment possessed you, you take hold of the males jaw, interlocking your lips together.

nanami wastes no time leaning over to the laptop, letting you wave a weak ‘bye’ to your viewers before sliding back onto the couch, placing his lips back on yours.

“wanna go again?”

➤ YOU HAVE EARNED 10.61KUSD FOR THIS STREAM.

162 notes · View notes

spanktony · 2 days ago

Text

“I’LL DO ANYTHING.” - anora.

summary: when you snap at anora, she leaves your place pissed, and you come back begging to make things right.

words: 2.3k +

warnings: 18+, fem!reader, oral (a receiving), fingering (a receiving), begging, ani calls u a good girl, reader is a meanie for a bit then turns to a lil bitch, this is bad, and yeah let me know if there’s more.

navigation. request.

tired would be an understatement of how you felt right now. your head pounded, each beat following up with a sigh from your boss's mouth, reminding you of the looming deadline for the project that still needed to be completed.

so, here you were on a call at 9:48 in the morning, on a day you were supposed to be off, with three other colleagues discussing the next steps for the project.

you rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled deep in your bones. you sat at your desk, a few feet away from anora's side of the bed, which made it harder to resist the temptation to crawl back under the covers and ignore the world for a little while longer. but you knew better. you couldn't afford to.

literally.

your phone buzzed on the desk, shifting your attention from one screen to the other. oh shit. the driver. you had planned a low-key day with anora—just the two of you—but now it seemed like that might have to wait.

your stomach sank as you glanced at the message: i'm here. do you want me to grab anything for you two?

you quickly typed back: no, that's fine. you can come inside and wait. i'm in a meeting; it shouldn't take too long.

hopefully…

you hoped anora wouldn't be too disappointed with the change of plans. the message sent, and you set your phone down again, the screen lighting up, showing the call you've been on for... three ongoing hours?!

behind you, anora stirred, waking up from her deep sleep. "good morning," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

you turned slightly, offering a tired smile as you double-checked to make sure you were still muted on your work call. "good morning, babe. sleep well?"

"mmm-hmm," she hummed, stretching. you heard the soft crack of her spine as she reached her arms over her head, a sound that made your heart swell a little. she padded across the hardwood floor with that familiar grace, her feet quiet but sure.

you could feel her before you saw her, like a magnet drawing you in. then she was there, leaning down to plant a lingering kiss on your neck. it made your skin tingle, sending a shiver down your spine. "you've been up for hours, haven't you?" she whispered, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

"i have to finish this report," you murmured, half-distracted.

but anora wasn't deterred. her lips trailed to your jawline and then to your cheek, playful and persistent.

"ani," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. "i'm on a call."

she ignored your plea, her hands sliding over your shoulders as she planted another kiss on your temple.

"ani, seriously," you hissed, though a hint of laughter betrayed you.

"what? i'm just showing my hardworking girlfriend some love," she teased, grinning against your skin. it was sweet; it really was. but your boss's voice in your ear reminded you of the pressing deadline, and her teasing felt like too much in the moment.

"anora, stop!" you snapped, louder than intended.

her hands froze, and the warmth that had been cocooning you suddenly vanished. you heard her inhale sharply, and when she stepped back, it was like a cold breeze had replaced her presence.

"what the hell?" she asked with wide eyes and furrowed eyebrows, still in the same position, looking hurt and confused. you felt your stomach twist. "i—" you started, but the words got tangled.

"i'm sorry for trying to spend time with you," she said, her voice raising in pitch before she swallowed hard. "god forbid i... i don't know, make you feel appreciated or something."

"i'm just trying to work, anora! i have deadlines, responsibilities—"

"and i'm a distraction, right?" she shot back, "just a little nuisance in your way?"

you opened your mouth to apologize, to explain, but she was already moving, grabbing her overnight bag from the floor and shoving her things inside haphazardly. it was like a fire was spreading through the room with how quickly she was packing up to leave.

"ani," you called out, your voice more desperate now. "please, wait. don't go."

but she ignored you, shoulders tense and eyes avoiding yours as she zipped up her bag. you heard the soft thud of her bag slung over her shoulder, and before you could say another word, she was at the door.

"y/n? are you here?" your boss's voice reminding you of the meeting you were supposed to be in right now. you looked at your phone, then the door your girlfriend had just rushed out of. sighing heavily, you unmuted your phone and replied, "yes, i'm here."

the hours that followed felt like eternity. the empty apartment was so quiet, so still, that it almost felt suffocating. by the time night fell, you couldn't bear it anymore. you gathered a few things—her favorite snacks, the earrings she had been eyeing for weeks but never bought, and a small bouquet of flowers you'd picked up on a whim.

your driver pulled up to her old place, her place that she rarely stayed at anymore because she was always at your apartment. she had even given you a spare copy of her key so you could move her things to your place when she was busy.

you opened the door and found the living room empty, thankful her roommate wasn't home. you knocked on her bedroom door, calling out her name softly.

the door creaked open, and there she was. anora's head peeked out from behind the door, her eyebrows furrowing both in anger and confusion, as she clearly wasn't expecting you. she was still in the clothes she'd left in, her hair slightly disheveled.

"what are you doing here?" she asked, opening her door slightly further to get a better look at you.

"i... i came to apologize," you said quickly, holding out the flowers like a shield. she eyed them, unimpressed.

"anora, please. i was an idiot. i shouldn't have snapped at you. you were just being sweet, and i let my stress get the better of me." she leaned against the doorframe, silent, her gaze piercing.

"i brought your favorite snacks," you added, holding up the bag. "and earrings. i even... i don't know, i just..."

you trailed off, realizing how desperate you sounded. but you didn't care. "please," you said softly. "i miss you. i miss us. i'll do anything to make it right."

anora sighed, stepping aside to let you in. you stepped inside her room, slowly closing the door behind you, watching as she stood a couple of feet in front of her bed. the tension in the air was thick as you set the flowers and bag on the nightstand beside you.

her expression softened, just a fraction. "anything?"

"anything," you promised, stepping closer, inches away from her.

"you really hurt my feelings," she said finally, a hand coming to cup your cheek, and you stumbled even closer to her, your lips ghosting hers.

you looked so fucking adorable in that moment, with that vulnerable, almost lost look on your face. like a kicked puppy—those sad, pleading eyes. you looked so damn cute, but she wasn't going to let you off the hook that easily.

her thumb brushed gently across your cheekbone. "you said anything, right?"

you nodded quickly, your hand wrapping around her forearm, and her heart skipped a beat. the way you held her arm, like you couldn't stand the distance between you two, made her lips twitch upward.

there was something in the way you looked at her now, something so earnest, so full of regret, that made her resolve waver just slightly. her eyes darted to your lips, feeling the heat between you both rise. god, you were so close, and she was fighting every instinct that told her to pull you in. to kiss you like she wanted to, to let you wrap her in your arms, to hold her.

her gaze flitted up, catching yours.

"anything," you repeated again, barely a whisper.

"get on your knees," she whispered. without hesitating, you lowered yourself in front of her, her hand running a hand through your hair. you stared up at her, waiting.

"beg."

"please," you said, the frustration clear in your voice.

"please what?"

"please forgive me, ani. i shouldn't have snapped at you."

"no, you shouldn't have. you didn't mean it, did you?"

you shook your head.

"that's right. because you wouldn't dare treat me like that. right, baby?" you nodded again, your hands finding their way to her thighs, gripping them tightly. anora's hands left your hair and cupped your face gently. "good girl," she said, a smile playing on her lips.

you licked your lips when your girlfriend began pulling her shorts down, revealing her bare skin inch by inch. she watched you the whole time, smiling, that smile that made your heart race with anticipation.

you leaned in, kissing the insides of her thighs, and she hummed. it was a gentle kiss, the kind that she needed after the day she had today, and it sent a wave of pleasure through her.

"such a good girl," she whispered, and your lips trailed higher, pressing against the clothed heat between her legs. she let out a soft moan, her hands finding your hair again to stop her legs from trembling.

you pressed a lingering kiss to the spot before pulling back, your gaze meeting hers. anora's eyes were half-lidded, her cheeks flushed, and she looked so gorgeous; what kind of an idiot would raise their voice at her? oh, that's right... you did.

"ani," you murmured, looking up at her, pleading.

"i forgive you, baby," she breathed, pulling her underwear to the side, revealing her glistening pussy. you could see the desire in her eyes as she guided you closer, silently inviting you to continue. with a soft smile, you leaned in to fulfill her unspoken request, eager to make things right between you.

you kissed her again, harder this time, your tongue slipping between her folds, tasting her sweetness as she moaned softly in response. you kept going, your tongue circling her clit slowly, teasingly. you couldn't help yourself, not when she was this wet and not when you owed it to her.

her grip tightened on your hair, and you moaned against her, sending a shockwave through her body. you looked up at her once more, taking in the sight of her, the way her lips parted slightly, the way her chest rose and fell with every breath she took.

"more," she whispered, her hips rocking forward, covering your chin with her slick wetness. you obliged, increasing the pressure and speed of your movements, your hands digging in the back of her thighs, trying to pull her even closer to you.

you continued like this, listening to her soft moans and pleas until she was close. she tugged on your hair, trying to pull you away.

"wait," she gasped, "not yet."

you pulled back, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. "did i do something wrong?" you asked, suddenly worried.

"no," she breathed, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, her hands still tangled in your hair. "it's just been a while, and i want your fingers." you smiled like an idiot, rising off your knees to kiss her for the first time that night.

her lips were soft, pliant, and you savored the taste of her on your tongue. "fuck, i missed you," you mumbled, her lips parting to let out a soft chuckle, falling against the bed with you in a tangle of limbs.

"me too, baby. now be good and finish what you started." you nodded eagerly, sliding a hand up under her shirt, your fingers grazing her skin until you reached her chest, cupping her breast in your hand, feeling her heartbeat quicken beneath your touch.

"i'll make you feel so good," you whispered, leaning in to kiss her neck as she arched into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. "hurry," she urged, her voice breathless.

you slid your hand back down her body, tracing the outline of her curves before finally reaching your destination, sliding your middle finger into her pussy and feeling her wetness enveloping you. she gasped at the sensation, her hips instinctively moving against your hand as she whispered, "don't stop."

her head fell back, her fingers gripping the sheets when you added another finger, increasing the pressure and speed of your movements, your eyes locked on her flushed face, the way her eyes closed and her mouth fell open as she let out a moan, her back arching against the mattress.

you continued like this for a few minutes, watching her writhe underneath you, her hips rolling against your fingers. her moans were music to your ears, and the sight of her like this was enough to make you let out a low growl of satisfaction.

her breathing was labored, her hips bucking wildly, and you knew she was close. extremely close. her body tensed, her hands gripping the sheets so tightly that they were shaking, and her moans became louder and more desperate. you kept going, not letting up, ignoring the ache in your own hand.

"come for me, ani," you said softly, curling your fingers inside her, hitting that spot that drove her crazy. her moans grew louder, and her body stiffened, and then she finally reached her peak, letting out a loud cry of pleasure. "yes, fuck!"

you felt her walls clench around your fingers, pulsing with the force of her release. her head fell back against the pillow, and her body went limp, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.

you watched her, mesmerized, not wanting to take your eyes off her for even a second.

you finally pulled out your fingers, bringing them to your mouth and sucking on them, tasting her sweet juices. her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at you, her expression softening.

"what candy did you buy?"

#spanktony #tonyspank #anora movie #anora 2024 #anora #anora x reader #anora smut #anora x fem!reader #anora x you #anora x y/n #mikey madison #mikey madison x reader #mikey madison smut #mikey madison x you

145 notes · View notes

moo-blogging · 2 days ago

Note

Hello moo! I hope youre doing good

Can you please please write a Levi smut where he takes the virginity of the reader ? And He’s not a virgin

Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT

Levi doesn't have any oversized T shirts. You go through his clothes again carefully, making sure you don't make a mess in his closet. In the end, you pull his white shirt from the hanger and throw it over your head. Just like the movies you watched, you leave the top three buttons open and walk into the living room.

Levi is on his phone, sitting on the sofa. It is pouring outside. You were both caught in the rain and he suggested for you to get dry at his place. Levi has always been respectful. He knows you are still a virgin and not ready for it yet. He came clean to you before you started dating, telling you that he wasn't a virgin anymore. He even waits for you in the living room despite you have been together for some time now.

But seeing you in his shirt, your dark undergarments visible beneath the thin material, Levi clicks his phone off and shifts his position. "You are playing in danger waters, my love," Levi bites his lower lip.

You tip toe toward him, his eyes never leaving your body. "Well..." you slip in between his thighs and whisper, "good thing I know you'll catch me.."

Levi wraps his arms around your body. You could feel his body warmth seeps through his shirt onto your skin. He kisses your nape, "baby, I will eat you right up because you're so tempting."

You turn toward him and tug his shirt, "I'm ready, Levi." You look at him with determination. You want to give yourself to him tonight. Levi stops for a moment, searching for any sign of doubt in your eyes but finds none. He presses his face into yours and kisses your lips. He carries you into the bedroom and gently lowers you onto the bed.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his abs. You nod, unbottoning your shirt too. Levi peels his pants off, leaving himself in his undergarment. He kneels between your thighs and lowers himself to you, kissing your lips. Your stomach is bubbling with something you couldn't quite understand but doesn't want it to stop. Your heart is beating so fast you are sure Levi could hear it.

Levi's hands explore your body. He unbuckles your bra with one quick snap and his palms are now on your boobs. You moan into his lips. He pulls away slightly, allowing you to breathe. Levi studies you as he massages your boobs. Your nipples are hard and you are so turned on right now you unknowingly rubbed your lower part to Levi's abs.

Levi chuckles as he watches you lose yourself. Levi kisses your lips deep and soft, "I'll make sure you're well taken care of, Y/n. You'll have the best time of your life."

Levi trails down your chin toward in between your breasts, kissing and sucking softly. His lips so gently on your skin, leaving hot breath with every touch. He licks your left nipple. An electric shock washes over you. Your breaths deepen as he sucks your nipple. His tongue goes in circles, his saliva warm and wet on your sensitive skin.

You thought you were at the edge but suddenly, you feel a gentle touch between your legs. You clench your inside involuntarily and your knees fold together, trapping Levi in. Levi chuckles against your skin. He pulls himself away from your nipple, and kisses your lips. You're moaning too much.

"You're wet, Y/n," Levi whispers to you in a lusty voice you never heard of. His thumb is rubbing on the wet fabric between your legs. You blush under his touch. "Feeling good like this?" He nibbles your ear lobe. You weakly exhale a "yes". Levi laughs and kisses the side of your face hard.

He pulls himself up and peels your panties off. You are very self aware of your body in this total nakedness. Levi sees your shyness and pulls his hardened member out. You blush harder at the size of his penis.

"I'll make you feel even better, princess." Rubbing the tip on your opening, you feel pleasure and nervous. "I'm pushing it in now," Levi says as he pushes the tip in. You didn't realise you had been clenching your walls, but his tip slices through easily as you are wet and he had rubbed his precum on your opening.

You throw your head back, screaming as you feel a sharp pain.levi stops moving immediately and massages the side of your legs. You are panting as you. adjust to his size, squeezing and releasing your walls. Levi leans in and kisses your sweaty forehead. "Are you okay, love? Do you want me to keep going?" Levi's palm find yours and your fingers interlace. You nod, "go slow please."

Levi pushes himself into you slowly. The pain and the pleasure come so strong. Your head is blank and all you could do is screaming Levi's name again and again. Your walls are pulsing involuntarily, somehow wanting him in and somehow wanting him out. Levi let out a groan. You watch his face twisted with emotions. He is panting too.

You lower your gaze and see your bodies have now become one. Levi is entirely inside of you. "It's in, baby," Levi kisses your lips, "you're taking me so good. You're so tight, baby."

But you know Levi is controlling himself not to go rough on you. His thighs are shaking from the pleasure and self contorl of not banging himself into you.

"Do it, Levi," you wrap your arms around his neck. "Do it like how you did before."

"Bu-" before he could protest, you kiss his lips. Levi lifts your right leg over his shoulder and starts rocking his hips. You break the kiss and throw your head back, taking in his length between your legs. Your toes curl as you endure the pain wrapped in pleasure. How could you want it to stop and keep going at the same time?

Levi spreads your legs wide, stretching your hole to take more of him. You tighten your hip muscles, involuntarily lifting your hips. Levi moans as your walls tighten around his cock. He places his palms on your pelvic areas and massages your sore hole (his cock still in it) with his thumbs. He purrs, "relax, baby, relax..." His thumb idly brushing over your bean, and your hips spasm. He moves his thumbs lower, carrasing the muscles of your opening and your butt cheeks.

"Y/n, my love," he leans in and kisses your face, "relax yourself, and I'll make you cum soon." He folds your knees to your chest as he hugs you. His soft words leading you as he steadily rocks his hips. You feel him moving in and out of you, his tip thrusting into your ceiling with every push, and your hips move with his movement. Uncontrollable moans and cries slip for your lips and dance with the sound of wet slaps of bodies. Tears of pleasure and pain well in your eyes. Levi watches you trying to stay with him as your eyes keep rolling to the back of your head. He gently bites the side of your neck to keep you with him.

"Are you ready, my love?" Lovingly, Levi cups your face and turns you toward him. You are flushed. You swallow and nod. "Good girl," he kisses your lips, cutting your main source of oxygen as he fucks you hard.

Your fingers dig into his biceps, and your knees squeeze his torso while your inner thighs shake. The hotness between your legs, deep within your body sends pleasure to every cell, and then, a sudden wave of unknown bliss washes over you. Your body is drained. You feel a sense of satisfaction as your inside bobbed. Your head is empty.

Levi curses under his breath as he feels your hot cum around his cock. "That's my girl, Y/n. You cummed for me, baby." He sucks the side of your lips. You grin at his comments. You love it when he takes control. Levi kisses your temple, "I'm going to cum too, my love, give me a moment."

You run your fingers into his hair, and whisper, "cum in me." Levi chuckles, "you are too high on pleasure, my love. I'll make you pregnant if I cum in you." "Please," you beg, "I want you to cum in me."

"Next time, love. Next time I'll cum until you overflow. 'Cos I wanna fuck you more after this."

And Levi pushes himself up. His pace quickens and his thrusts deeper than before. His palms grabbing on your boobs, making you feel pain and pleasure from his grip. He groans with every slam. Your legs are waggling limply as Levi fucks you. You let out a cry of pleasure when you cum again, your walls squeezes itself and that wave of bliss washes over you, taking more of your energy with it.

"Fuck!" Levi curses as he pulls out suddenly. He pumps his wet penis with his fist and hot, white liquid shoots from his tip and lands on your tummy. Levi hovers over you, with one arm supporting himself up. You both are panting for air. Your hole squeezes and releases itself, now unfamiliar with the extended size and absence of Levi's penis in you.

Levi pulls his shirt from the floor and wipes his seed from your tummy. He crashes beside you and throws the stained shirt away before pulling you into his arms. He kisses your forehead, your nose and finally your mouth.

"How's it, my love?" He wipes your hair from your sweaty forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore..." you moan. "Tired..."

Levi kisses your face again, "I'll get the bath ready. You have to wash after we have sex."

"Make love," you swallow. "We made love." Because you feel that way. You feel closer to Levi than you did before.

Levi smirks. He cups your face with his big palm, "yes, we made love. We just made love to each other," and he kisses your lips again.

#sorry it took me forever #love you #levi smut #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou #levi x y/n #midnight thoughts #levi x you #aot x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman smut

142 notes · View notes

puckstories · 11 hours ago

Text

Superstar | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Fluff, established relationship, that's it I think. Edited only once. Super short (blurb)

Summary; Just a little blurb in honor of the Canucks beating the Sharks.

Word Count; 1.2k

The Canucks finally snapped their losing streak, edging out the Sharks 4-3 in a thrilling, hard-fought game right before the holiday break. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions—both for the team and for Quinn. He’d had two key assists, helping set up crucial plays, and while his body was tired from the physical toll of the game, his mind was still buzzing, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he left the locker room and headed into the parking garage.

As soon as he steps out into the cool evening air, his eyes immediately spot you leaning against his car, waiting for him. The sight of you sends a jolt of elation through him, cutting through the lingering fatigue in his muscles. You’re standing there, bundled up against the cold, arms crossed, your face lighting up the moment you catch sight of him. He feels the corners of his mouth tug up into a wide smile, his heart skipping a beat as his eyes meet yours.

Without thinking, Quinn quickens his pace, his exhaustion forgotten in the moment. Before you can say anything, he sweeps you up into his arms with effortless strength, lifting you off the ground as he spins you in a tight circle. Your laugh fills the quiet parking garage, bright and full of joy, the sound muffled slightly as your face presses into the crook of his shoulder. He holds you tightly, the familiar warmth of your body against his making him feel grounded, like everything else melts away.

You squeal softly, clinging to him as he spins you, your arms looping around his neck for balance. “Quinn!” you gasp, breathless with laughter, your feet dangling a few inches off the ground as he holds you close. The feel of his strong arms around you, the giddy rush of being lifted so easily, makes your heart flutter. Even after such a tiring game, playing almost thirty minutes, he still has energy left for you.

He finally sets you back down, but doesn’t let go, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips as he keeps you close, his forehead gently leaning against yours. His breath is still a little ragged from the game, but his smile is wide, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that you love seeing—like he’s still riding the high of the win, and seeing you is the perfect way to top off his night.

“You were amazing,” you murmur, your voice soft as your fingers gently thread through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Two assists? That’s my superstar.”

His grin widens, and he lets out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest. “It was a team effort,” he says modestly, but you can tell by the glint in his eyes that he’s proud of how he played tonight. “But damn, it feels good to win again.”

You nod, feeling the excitement radiating off him, the energy of the game still lingering in the way his hands absentmindedly squeeze your hips, his thumb brushing the fabric of your jacket. He’s exhausted, you can tell—the dark circles under his eyes, the slight droop in his shoulders—but there’s also this unmistakable buzz about him, like he’s still replaying every moment in his head.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. His skin is warm, slightly flushed from the exertion of the game, and he leans into your touch, his eyes softening as he looks down at you. “You deserved this win.”

For a moment, the rest of the world fades away—the cold air, the empty parking garage, the weariness in his bones. All Quinn can think about is you, standing here with him, your hand on his cheek and that bright, beautiful smile on your face that never fails to make his heart race. He wraps his arms around you a little tighter, pulling you even closer until there’s no space between you.

“I missed you,” he admits, his voice low and sincere. The game, the pressure, the streak—it all dissolves when he’s with you. “Thanks for being here.”

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Of course.”

He closes his eyes for a brief second, savoring the feel of your lips against his skin, the comfort you always manage to bring him no matter what’s happening on or off the ice. And when he opens them again, there’s a look in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat—a quiet, unspoken gratitude that runs deeper than words.

"Gonna miss you, though, when you abandon me for four whole days," you tease, referring to the fact that Quinn is heading back to Michigan for a few days, to visit his family during the short holiday break. A playful pout forms on your lips as you lean into him, your head now resting against his chest. Your fingers toy with the hem of his shirt, absentmindedly.

Quinn chuckles softly, his hand gently stroking your hair as he looks down at you, his smile warm but knowing. “Abandon?” he echoes, amusement flickering in his eyes. "It’s four days, not four months. You’ll survive."

"I don’t know..." you sigh dramatically, shifting slightly in his arms, pretending to be forlorn. "Four days without you is gonna be tough." Your voice carries that teasing lilt, but underneath, there’s a small kernel of truth. Sure, you’re both joking around, but there’s also a part of you that’s going to miss him more than you’re willing to admit. Things between the two of you had been so easy, so natural lately—it’s strange to think about him being away, even if only for a short time.

He tightens his grip around you slightly, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your temple. "You’ll be fine," he murmurs, his voice gentle but reassuring. "And it’s not like we can’t text, FaceTime... I’ll be back before you know it."

"Mm-hmm," you hum, lifting your head slightly to meet his eyes, your lips quirking into a soft smile. "I guess that’ll have to do." There’s a beat of silence before you add, "But if you really wanted me to survive, you’d bring me with you. I’d make an excellent carry-on."

That earns you a real laugh from Quinn, his chest rumbling beneath you. "Oh, I’m sure you would," he says, his tone filled with fondness. "But then I’d have to explain to my family why I have this beautiful distraction hanging around all weekend." His eyes soften as he says it, his hand moving to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb across your skin. "Not sure I’d be able to get much family time in with you there."

His words send a flutter through your chest, and you lean into his touch, letting out a quiet, contented sigh. "Smooth," you murmur, your eyes closing for a brief moment as you savor the warmth of his palm against your cheek.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you

116 notes · View notes

bangchansdirty-slut · 3 days ago

Note

Hii, I often read your stories and I really like them. I was wondering if you could do a shy and very feminine female reader doing it for the first time with an experienced G!P Momo please

Listen to Unnie

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Top!Momo x Member!Bttm!Reader

Genre: Smut

Requested

More: Masterlist

A/n: This is one of two fanfics I'm posting today. I won't be taking any more requests until I finish the ones I already have in my drafts, which are currently collecting dust. You can still make requests, but please keep in mind that they probably won't be written and posted for a while.

Also, can you believe it’s been a whole year since my first fic? I just wanted to give a huge thank you to all of you for supporting me and my writing. It means the world to me!

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

The practice room was filled with the faint scent of sweat and the lingering aroma of freshly applied makeup, the air thick with the anticipation of their upcoming comeback. Y/n, dressed in a baby pink hoodie and matching shorts, nervously fidgeted with her fingers. She looked up at Momo, who was casually leaning against the wall with one hand in her pocket and the other playing with the hem of her black tank top.

Momo's eyes sparkled with mischief as she took in the flustered state of the youngest member. She sauntered over to the couch and plopped down."Come on, Y/n, let's go over that part of the choreography again," she said with a grin, Y/n's cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink.

Y/n got back into position, her heart racing. She couldn't shake the feeling that Momo had something more than practice on her mind, but she brushed it off as nerves. She started to run through the routine, her movements tentative and unsure. Momo watched intently, her gaze flickering between Y/n's face and her ass, which was bouncing slightly with each step. As the beat dropped, Y/n froze. She had messed up the sequence again, and she could feel Momo's eyes burning into her.

Momo stepped closer, her body heat enveloping Y/n. "You're too stiff," she murmured, her breath hot against Y/n's ear. "You need to relax and feel the music." Before Y/n could react, Momo's hand was on her hip, guiding her through the steps, their bodies moving in sync. The friction between them grew, the air crackling with an undeniable tension that neither of them could ignore.

The older idol leaned in, her soft pink lips brushing against Y/n's, surprising the youngest member. Y/n's eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she melted into the kiss, her inexperience shimmering like a new star in the vast sky of Momo's expertise. Momo's hand traveled up to the back of Y/n's neck, pulling her closer as their tongues danced together, exploring each other with a gentle yet insistent curiosity.

Breaking the kiss, Momo's eyes searched Y/n's, looking for any signs of discomfort. Finding none, she smiled, her teeth slightly grazing the younger girl's bottom lip. "You're so sweet," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr.

Y/n's heart thudded in her chest as she felt Momo's hand slip under her hoodie, her fingers tracing the soft skin of her stomach before moving to untie the drawstring of her shorts. With surprising deftness, Momo pulled them down, leaving Y/n's cute little panties as the only barrier between her and the cool air of the practice room. Y/n gasped as Momo's hand cupped her, feeling her warmth and the dampness that had pooled there.

Momo's eyes never left hers as she leaned in to nip at her bottom lip, a playful smirk on her face. "You're so wet, baby," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Does the thought of me making you feel good turn you on?"

Y/n nodded, her voice a barely audible whisper. She was lost in the moment, unsure of how they had gone from rehearsing to this, but she didn't want it to stop. She could feel the heat of Momo's body, her breath, her touch. It was intoxicating.

Momo's hand slipped into the waistband of Y/n's panties, her long, slender fingers sliding down to stroke the wetness that had gathered between her folds. Y/n's breath hitched, and she felt her knees wobble slightly. Momo chuckled, the sound low and warm, before her thumb found its way to Y/n's clit. She began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles, her eyes never leaving the younger girl's face as she watched for any signs of discomfort or pleasure.

Momo led Y/n over to the couch, their bodies still entwined. She sat down, gently pushing Y/n's knees apart and settling herself between them. With a smoldering gaze, she leaned in to kiss her again, their tongues tangling together as she continued to tease her clit. Y/n's breaths grew ragged, and she could feel herself getting closer to the edge.

"Momo, I've never… done this before," Y/n stuttered, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement.

Momo paused, her hand hovering over Y/n's trembling thigh. "It's okay, Jagiya," she assured her, her voice velvety and soothing. "I'll take care of you. Just listen to Unnie." She gently eased the fabric of Y/n's panties aside, revealing the soft pinkness beneath. Y/n's eyes fluttered shut as Momo's mouth descended upon her, kissing and licking a trail down her stomach.

Momo's tongue flicked over Y/n's clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body. Y/n gasped, her hands reflexively reaching for Momo's hair. She was unsure of what to do, but the feeling was so overwhelmingly good that she didn't care. Momo's mouth closed over her, suckling gently at first before increasing the pressure. Y/n's hips bucked, and she let out a soft moan, her body responding instinctively to the older girl's ministrations.

Momo looked up, her eyes dark with desire, and whispered, "You're doing so well, just keep letting go." She inserted a single finger into Y/n's tight pussy, the wetness allowing for easy entry. The youngest member's eyes widened, but she didn't protest. Instead, she began to rock her hips in time with Momo's movements, the sensation of being filled both thrilling and terrifying.

Momo's eyes locked onto Y/n's, her gaze intense and unwavering. "Tell me if it feels good," she encouraged, her voice thick with want.

Y/n nodded, her eyes glazed over with pleasure as Momo's tongue swirled around her clit. Each flick and suck sent waves of sensation crashing through her, and she couldn't hold back the soft, feminine whimpers that escaped her lips. The feeling was so new, so overwhelmingly good that she didn't know how much more she could take.

Momo's eyes grew darker with every sound Y/n made, her own arousal evident as she worked her finger in and out of the younger girl's tight pussy. She curled it slightly, finding that special spot inside her, and Y/n's body responded with a shudder. "There it is," Momo murmured, her voice full of satisfaction. She knew she had found Y/n's G-spot.

Y/n's breathing grew more erratic as Momo's finger danced inside her, the pleasure building into a crescendo. Her body tensed, and she felt the beginnings of an orgasm wash over her. She was about to ask Momo to stop, but the words got caught in her throat as Momo added a second finger, stretching her even further.

"M-Momo," she managed to stutter out, trying to push her head away, but her legs only tightened around Momo's neck, drawing her closer.

Momo chuckled against her sensitive flesh, the vibration sending another shockwave through her body. "You don't have to hold back, baby," she encouraged, her voice muffled by the fabric of Y/n's panties. "I want to hear you."

With a final, desperate attempt to maintain her dignity, Y/n buried her face in the cushions of the couch, muffling her cries. But it was no use; the pleasure was too much. Her body spasmed, and she squirted into Momo's eager mouth, soaking her. Momo groaned in pleasure, the taste of Y/n's arousal driving her wild. She didn't stop, licking and sucking until the youngest member's legs were trembling and she was whimpering for mercy.

Pulling away, Momo's eyes were alight with passion as she surveyed her handiwork. Y/n's pussy was red and swollen, glistening with a mix of sweat and desire. The young idol looked up at her, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving. Momo smirked, standing up to reveal the tent in her own shorts. "Looks like you liked it," she said, her voice playful.

Y/n couldn't help but nod, her eyes never leaving Momo's face. "What's next?" she asked, her voice shaky with anticipation.

Momo leaned back, a smug smile playing on her lips as she assessed the situation. "Well, we can't have you lying there like that and not do anything about it," she said, her eyes darkening with desire. She reached down and adjusted the bulge in her shorts, making it clear what was next.

Y/n felt a thrill of excitement and fear at the same time. She had never seen Momo like this before, so confident and commanding. It was a stark contrast to the sweet, supportive unnie she knew from their group activities, but it was incredibly alluring. She watched as Momo unbuttoned her shorts, her eyes never leaving Y/n's.

Momo's cock was revealed, and Y/n's eyes widened at the sight of it. It was a beautiful shade of pink, glistening with lubricant and standing tall. The older member stepped closer, her hand caressing the shaft gently. "Ready for the main act?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of challenge.

Y/n nodded, her curiosity piqued. She had never seen anything like it before, but she trusted Momo implicitly. The Japanese idol positioned herself over Y/n, her cock pointing at the juncture of her thighs. "Just relax," Momo murmured, her hand sliding up to cradle Y/n's face. "I'll go slow."

With that, she began to press her cock against Y/n's opening, the tip sliding through her folds and coating it in her arousal. Y/n gasped, the sensation foreign yet exhilarating. She felt the head of Momo's cock nudge at her entrance, and she tensed up instinctively. "It's okay," Momo whispered, her thumb tracing soothing circles on Y/n's cheek. "You're so tight, baby."

Momo pushed in gently, inch by inch, her cock stretching Y/n's tightness. Y/n's eyes squeezed shut, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. It hurt, but it was a pain that seemed to meld with the pleasure, creating a cocktail of sensations that was intoxicating. "Relax," Momo murmured, her free hand resting on Y/n's hip, her fingers digging into the soft flesh as she began to rock her hips.

Slowly, so slowly, the pain gave way to a delicious fullness. Y/n's body started to adjust, her muscles wrapping around Momo's cock like a warm, wet embrace. She felt a sense of awe, of being filled in a way she had never been before. Momo's movements grew more deliberate, her eyes never leaving Y/n's face as she watched for any signs of distress or discomfort. But all she saw was the youngest member's trust and willingness to experience something new.

The room was a symphony of soft gasps and muffled moans as Momo began to pick up the pace, her hips moving in a steady rhythm. Y/n's leg remained draped over Momo's shoulder, granting her deeper access, while her other hand held onto the armrest of the couch tightly, knuckles white with the effort of staying still. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure rippling through her body, and she couldn't help but whimper with every penetration.

Momo leaned down to capture Y/n's lips again, her own breathing ragged. Their kisses grew more urgent as the pace of their lovemaking increased. Y/n's hands roamed up Momo's back, feeling the slickness of sweat and the firmness of muscle beneath her fingertips. The older member's cock filled her completely, stretching her in the most delicious way possible, and she found herself matching Momo's movements, her hips rising to meet each powerful thrust.

Momo's hand traveled back down to Y/n's clit, her thumb resuming the relentless circles that had brought her to the brink before. Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head, and she moaned into their kiss, the sensation of being touched there while filled so completely overwhelming. She felt a second orgasm building, stronger than the first, and she clung to Momo, her nails digging into her back as she whispered, "D-on't ssstop."

Momo's rhythm grew erratic as she felt Y/n's pussy clench around her cock, the younger girl's body shaking with the force of her climax. She groaned, the vibrations sending a shiver down her spine as she continued to pump into her, eager to reach her own peak. "You're so good," she murmured, her voice strained with passion. "So, so good."

Their kisses grew sloppier, their breaths mingling in a desperate dance. Y/n's eyes searched Momo's, a silent question hanging between them. Momo read the unspoken words, the need for reassurance, and whispered, "It's okay, Jagiya. I've got you."

With that, she pushed into Y/n one final time, burying her cock as deep as it would go. Y/n felt the warmth of Momo's release flood her, the sensation sending her own body over the edge once more. She screamed into the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut, as waves of pleasure washed over her. Momo's thrusts grew shallower, her breathing ragged as she rode out her orgasm, her fingers still working Y/n's clit with an expert touch.

They lay there for a moment, their bodies entwined and trembling with the aftershocks of their shared climax. The room was silent except for the sound of their labored breaths and the distant thump of music from the neighboring practice room. Momo pulled out slowly, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she did so. She leaned down to press a soft kiss to Y/n's forehead, her hand still resting between her legs, feeling the last of her spasms subside.

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her that was different from the passion that had just consumed her. She was surprised to find that she felt safe, protected even. She looked up at Momo, her eyes filled with a mix of awe and love. "That was…" she trailed off, unable to find the words to describe the intensity of the experience.

Momo chuckled, a warm sound that sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. She leaned in to kiss her again, this time more tenderly. "It's just the beginning, baby," she whispered against her lips. "But for now, let's clean up and get you dressed."

#twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #momo x reader #bangchansdirty-slut #hirai momo x reader #hirai momo #momo smut #twice smut #twice momo

93 notes · View notes

hjvi · 11 hours ago

Text

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝘜𝘯𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯, 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘠𝘰𝘶

⚠︎ mdni, heavy smut, eating disorder (anorexia), overall mature subjects, and more

⤷ A gentle reminder: If my content ever feels overwhelming, please take care of yourself and step away. Anorexia is a key theme in this story, and as someone who understands its weight, this fic is deeply personal to me. I want to remind you that you're never alone in your journey.

Sending love and healing to all. 🩷

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 2: 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩

The sound of skates carving through ice echoed in the quiet rink, but it barely registered in my mind. I was too focused on the way Chris’s hand felt in mine. The warmth of his fingers, the way they gently squeezed as if trying to anchor me to this moment, to him. I wasn’t sure if it was the silence of the rink or the chaos inside my head, but there was something in the air—something thick with unspoken words.

Chris and I stood side by side, staring out at the empty ice, both lost in the gravity of everything that had been said. He had apologized, confessed his love to me, and promised to help me heal. His words hung in the air between us, fragile and uncertain. I had told him I was willing to give us a chance, to give him a chance. But I wasn’t sure if I believed I deserved any of this.

I glanced down at our hands, our fingers still intertwined. And that’s when I saw it.

His eyes dropped to my bruised hands. The skin was discolored, darkened from the impact of fists, marks left from someone who should have loved me. The edges of his expression tightened for a fraction of a second before he quickly glanced away, like he couldn’t stand looking at them anymore. His jaw clenched briefly before he let out a shaky breath.

“Hey, uh,” Chris started, his voice tight as if he were trying to sound normal. “Do you wanna come over to my house? I have something I want to show you.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t know if I was ready for more of his kindness, for more of his attention. But I nodded slowly, almost instinctively. What else could I do? I wasn’t sure how long I could stand there, the weight of his unspoken questions pulling me under.

We left the rink, and within minutes, Matt—his only triplet brother with a license—pulled up in their old, beat-up car. The ride was silent, the kind of silence that feels louder than anything. Chris, normally so animated, so full of energy, sat beside me, his eyes flicking to me every few seconds as if he were studying my every move, trying to make sense of the distance between us.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, pressing down on me with every passing second.

When we finally arrived at Chris’s house, I shuffled behind him up to his room, his footsteps quick and purposeful, as if he wanted to show me something important. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I took in the walls of his room, decorated with rap posters, old vinyl records, and the familiar scent of his cologne and something else—comfort, maybe. It was all so him, yet I felt so out of place.

“You okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes as he glanced over at me. He had been looking at me like that all day—like I was something precious that he couldn’t bear to break.

I nodded stiffly, offering him a weak smile as I dropped my eyes to the sleeves of my hoodie. They were covered in dried tears, remnants of mascara streaking down my face from the few times I had wiped away my tears, trying to keep it together. I wasn’t even sure why I cared.

Chris noticed, and without hesitation, he moved to his closet, pulling out a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. “Here,” he said, holding them out to me. “You need something clean. You can change in the bathroom, if you want.”

I accepted the clothes reluctantly, feeling an odd wave of guilt rise in my chest. I didn’t want to take anything from him. But his kindness felt almost overwhelming. And when I inhaled the scent of his hoodie, it was like an old memory wrapped around me, one that made me ache for a time I hadn’t realized I had lost. The familiarity of it made me feel both comforted and strangely distant.

“I’ll wait outside,” he said, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him gently.

I walked into the bathroom and shut the door. The room was silent except for the hum of the fluorescent light above me. The mirror reflected a version of myself I didn’t recognize. I stood there for a long time, staring at myself. I unzipped my hoodie and slipped it off, throwing it on the floor, before pulling at the waistband of my low-rise jeans, stepping out of them with shaky hands. I was all too aware of the hollow feeling in my body, the emptiness that came from not eating, not caring.

As I reached for the hoodie Chris had given me, I slid my arms into the sleeves, feeling how much too big it was. The fabric hung off me like a curtain, too large for my frame. I felt the fabric stretch and tug, the empty space inside me made all too clear.

I lifted the hoodie, my fingers grazing the sharp outline of my ribs. I swallowed hard, fighting the rising wave of panic. I could feel the hollow hollowness inside of me, the bruises left by years of self-doubt and the echoes of my father’s words.

I stared at myself in the mirror, not realizing how much time had passed. Minutes slipped by like hours.

I couldn’t take it. I yanked the hoodie off, the fabric crumpling in my hands. My skin prickled with a familiar discomfort—the kind of vulnerability that I hated, the kind of vulnerability I had never been allowed to show.

There was a knock at the door.

“Are you okay in there?” Chris’s voice was muffled but full of concern.

I wanted to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. Before I could say anything, the door creaked open just a fraction. And then Chris stepped inside, his eyes immediately catching on my bare skin, my sweatpants hanging off my frame, and the rawness of my vulnerability.

He froze. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” he stammered, his face flushing in embarrassment. But he didn’t turn away. Instead, he stepped back, his eyes not leaving me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, I sank down onto the floor, my knees buckling beneath me as my body began to tremble. The sobs came in waves, uncontrollable, and I couldn’t stop them. I just sat there, breaking apart in front of him, unsure how to stop the flood of emotion that had been building for so long.

Chris, to his credit, didn’t try to rush over. He sat down next to me slowly, careful not to overwhelm me. He gave me space, but his presence was steady, like an anchor holding me together when I was slipping away. His hand hovered near me, unsure, but it was enough.

“You don’t like the hoodie color?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but I couldn’t even muster a smile.

“I feel so weak, Chris,” I cried. “I feel so skinny, like I’m fading away, and I can’t stop. I’m just… I’m so broken.”

His hand finally found its way to my back, gently rubbing circles over the fabric of his hoodie. “You’re not weak,” he said softly. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And you don’t need to feel insecure. I love you. I’ll help you through this. You don’t have to fight this alone anymore.”

His words—gentle, so full of love and compassion—were a balm to the raw wounds inside me. I buried my face in his chest, not caring about how vulnerable I was, how exposed. For the first time in a long time, I let myself cry freely, knowing that someone was here to help me piece myself back together.

When the tears finally started to subside, Chris pulled away gently, his fingers brushing my hair out of my face. “How about a bath?” he suggested quietly. “A vanilla bubble bath. I’ll set it up for you.”

I let out a shaky giggle, feeling a hint of something lighter for the first time that night. “That sounds nice.”

“I’ll get everything ready,” he said, his voice soothing as he helped me stand. “You just… take all the time you need.”

As he went to his brother Matt’s room to give me some privacy, I stood there for a moment, lost in the quiet of the bathroom. I reached up to wipe away the last of my tears, but the weight of everything still hung heavy on my shoulders.

When I walked back into Chris’s room later, towel in hand, I overheard him talking to Matt in hushed tones, the conversation I had been dreading.

“Do you think she’s too thin?” Matt asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“I don’t know,” Chris replied, a tone of sadness in his words. “She’s just… so fragile, Matt. I don’t know how to fix her. I just want to help her.”

The words crushed me. I turned on my heel and fled back to his room, sinking down onto the floor with my back against his bed. It wasn’t about fixing me. I wasn’t some broken thing to be fixed.

I wiped away my tears, quickly swallowing down the rising wave of self-doubt. When Chris entered the room, he froze when he saw me sitting on the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, kneeling down beside me.

“I don’t know, Chris,” I whispered, the weight of it all crashing back down on me. “I don’t know how to wash myself… I hate seeing my body.”

“Hey,” he said, lifting my chin gently, “it’s okay. You don’t have to do it alone.”

He reached under his bed and pulled out a small, weathered box. He opened it slowly, revealing photos of me, my hair ties, old bracelets, small trinkets I had long forgotten about. My breath caught in my throat.

“I kept everything because I can’t live my life without thinking about you,” Chris said softly, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite understand. “You are so beautiful. I hate seeing you do this to yourself. But I’ll be here. I’ll always be here, and I won’t leave you.”

I stared at the box, unable to speak for a moment. His words hit me harder than anything. He cared about me, but why did he talk about me like I was something broken, something that needed fixing?

I didn’t know, but I had to find out. And for the first time in so long, I was willing to try.

Chris sat beside me, the silence in his room hanging like a heavy blanket. He’d shown me the box, full of my old trinkets—little pieces of me that I hadn’t even realized mattered to him. But now, staring down at the photos, the bracelets, and the hair ties I had long forgotten about, something inside me was starting to crack.

“I—I didn’t even know you kept these,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I ran my fingers over a photo of me from years ago. It was from a school trip, one where I had laughed so hard my stomach ached, my eyes crinkling with joy. I couldn’t even remember that girl. She felt like a stranger now.

“I couldn’t let go of anything that had you in it,” Chris murmured, his voice low and serious, as if the weight of his words mattered more than anything else. “You’ve always been on my mind. Always. Even when I was… too stupid to realize it.”

I felt a swell of warmth in my chest at his words, but a sharp pang of guilt followed right after. He kept these things because he couldn’t forget me. But I had been so lost, so deep in the dark that I couldn’t remember who I was before all the pain.

“You always knew how to make me laugh,” I said, swallowing hard as I fought against the rush of emotions. “I used to laugh all the time. And now, it feels like I’ve forgotten how.”

Chris didn’t answer at first. His hand, gentle but firm, found mine. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling my gaze back to him. His eyes were so earnest, so full of concern, like he could see right through the walls I had built around myself.

“You haven’t forgotten, though,” he said softly. “You just haven’t had a reason to laugh in a while. But you will again, I promise.”

I looked away, tears gathering in my eyes, and Chris squeezed my hand, the contact grounding me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone in this.

“Chris… I—I’m scared,” I whispered, barely audible. “Scared of what’s happening inside me. I don’t know how to fix it.”

His face softened, and he slowly pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. I rested my head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him—the cologne, the faint smell of laundry detergent, and something uniquely Chris, something that felt like home. His embrace was warm, enveloping, and for a moment, the world outside his room, outside of everything I had been through, seemed so far away.

“You don’t have to fix anything,” he whispered into my hair. “I’ll help you, step by step. But you don’t have to fix it all on your own. You don’t have to carry this burden alone. Not anymore.”

I nodded, my breath catching as I allowed myself to lean into him, feeling something shift within me. The heaviness that had weighed on my chest for so long was starting to lighten, piece by piece.

There was a long pause, where all we did was hold each other, not saying anything more. And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Chris pulled back slightly, his hand moving to my cheek, lifting my face to meet his eyes.

“You want to take that bath?” he asked softly, his voice coaxing yet gentle.

I hesitated for a moment. I hadn’t planned on doing anything like that. The thought of getting clean, of scrubbing away the remnants of the past, made me feel exposed in ways I wasn’t ready to face. But something in his gaze softened the edges of my fear.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “I think I do.”

“Good,” he said, his crooked smile tender as he brushed a lock of hair from my face. “I’ll get it ready for you.”

I stepped into the bathroom a few minutes later, the soft sound of Chris’s footsteps fading into the background as he prepared the bath. The room was bathed in warm light, the kind of soft glow that felt like it could cradle me in its embrace. He had already filled the tub with bubbles, the scent of vanilla wafting through the air.

“Here,” Chris said, handing me a fresh towel and a pair of his old slippers, the kind he wore around the house. “I’ll give you privacy to change. Just… take your time.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak. The thought of washing away the layers of pain that had accumulated over time felt almost foreign. But Chris was right—this was part of healing. I could start small. I could start with something simple, like the warmth of the water surrounding me.

As I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the bath, the water felt like a second skin. It was soothing and gentle, yet the bubbles seemed to bring everything to the surface. I leaned back, letting the warmth seep into my muscles, trying to breathe deeply, trying to calm the storm that raged inside my head.

But it was still there. The emptiness, the ache. The feeling of being too small, too fragile, too broken.

Chris knocked on the door softly a few minutes later, his voice muffled. “You okay in there?”

“I’m… I think so,” I called back, my voice barely above a whisper.

He pushed the door open a crack, just enough for his head to peek through. “Do you want me to come in?” he asked, his eyes soft with concern.

I hesitated. A thousand thoughts swirled in my head. But in that moment, I needed him. Not in the way I had needed someone before, but in the way that felt raw and real.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please.”

Chris stepped into the bathroom, his presence so calming it was like I could finally breathe a little easier. He moved with quiet care, making sure not to intrude, not to overwhelm.

He sat on the edge of the tub, his hand brushing lightly against my hair, careful not to disturb the bubbles.

“Do you need help?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur.

I shook my head, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “I don’t know if I can… do this,” I whispered.

Chris took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was unwavering. “I’m here. I’ll help however I can, even if it’s just sitting here with you.”

And so, he did. He sat by the edge of the tub, his hand gently resting on my arm, a grounding presence.

I finally closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the water, the comfort of his touch, and the gentleness of his voice wash over me.

The warm water enveloped me like a second skin. The steam rose in gentle swirls, filling the bathroom with the soft scent of vanilla bubbles, calming me just enough to breathe deeper. But as I sank further into the tub, I couldn’t shake the heavy weight pressing down on my chest. The scars, the bruises, the emptiness inside—it was all still there, lingering like a storm inside me.

The soft clink of a bottle being opened echoed in the quiet, followed by the sound of Chris’s voice, calm and steady, like he was trying to anchor me.

“Is the water warm enough?” he asked, standing just outside the tub, his voice soft and considerate.

I nodded, though my eyes were shut, a futile attempt to block out everything. I hadn’t expected this. I hadn’t expected him to stay close, to offer to help. It was overwhelming in a way I couldn’t explain. But still, I felt the faintest stir of relief in my heart. Maybe this was what I needed. Maybe this was how I could start to heal.

Chris, sensing my hesitance, didn’t rush. He waited, patient and gentle, until I nodded again, finally allowing him into the space I had, until now, kept so tightly guarded.

“I’m right here,” he said, kneeling beside the tub. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing softly against my shoulder as if to reassure me. He was so close, and yet he gave me space, the quiet comfort of his presence enough to settle my nerves. “Do you want me to help you wash?”

The words felt strange on my tongue, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. But part of me wanted him to stay close, to be the one to help me through this—this vulnerability that terrified me. So, I swallowed my pride and nodded, unsure of what else to do.

Chris’s voice was low and steady, a constant reassurance as he reached for the body wash, the soft scent of lavender and vanilla wafting through the air. He poured it into his hands, lathering it gently before turning his attention back to me.

“I’m just going to start with your arms, okay?” he asked, his eyes soft but filled with something more—something that felt like a promise.

I swallowed hard, afraid of what I might see if I let him in too much, but I couldn’t find the strength to pull away. There was something about his kindness, his unwavering patience, that made me feel a little less fragile.

His fingers gently cupped my wrist as he began to wash the skin of my arms, his touch tender, careful not to overwhelm me. The sensation of his hands gliding over my skin was almost too much to bear, yet it was strangely soothing, like he was washing away pieces of the hurt that had accumulated for so long.

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Chris murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a tenderness in his tone that made my heart ache. His touch was light as he moved down, past my elbows, moving to my forearms, the lather turning into a soft foam as it slid across my skin. His touch was careful, as if he could sense the weight of my past, the scars, both seen and unseen, that I was trying to bury beneath the surface.

I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of his hands. Trying to let it soothe the growing discomfort in my chest. But with every gentle sweep of his fingers, the floodgates seemed to open, and my chest tightened. The moment felt too intimate, too raw, but still, I stayed.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, his voice steady like a beacon in the storm. “I’m right here.”

His hands moved to my shoulders, the pads of his fingers tracing over the skin of my upper arms with gentle care. As he reached the back of my neck, his hands hesitated, and I could feel the heat of his gaze, though I refused to meet it. I could feel the weight of his concern pressing against me, like he wanted to do more, wanted to somehow fix what had been broken for so long.

But he didn’t push. He simply washed, quietly, steadily, as if he was trying to reassure me that nothing would change in this moment—he wouldn’t rush, he wouldn’t push me beyond what I could handle.

Slowly, I felt his hands move to the small of my back, washing down the length of my spine. His touch was so gentle, so unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world to make sure I felt cared for. His hands glided over the small curve of my back, and even though I felt exposed, raw, I felt something stir within me—a longing for comfort, for healing. I closed my eyes, biting back the tremors that threatened to overtake me.

“You’re okay,” Chris said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re safe.”

I felt the tears well up in my eyes again, threatening to spill over, but I held them back, clenching my fists in the water, willing them to stay.

His hands moved to my ribs then, slowly, as though he was afraid of hurting me. The touch was so tender that it made my heart ache in a way I wasn’t prepared for. His fingers brushed over the skin of my side, and I stiffened involuntarily, the memories of being touched without care, without kindness, rushing back to me.

Chris noticed instantly. His hands froze for a moment, as though he was waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t. Instead, I leaned into his touch, trying to let it soothe me, trying to remind myself that I wasn’t broken beyond repair. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion. “I just… I just hate how I look. How I feel.”

Chris’s voice softened, filled with an emotion I couldn’t place. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply, the words steady, unwavering. “You’re beautiful just the way you are. Don’t ever forget that.”

I closed my eyes tighter, not sure I could believe him, but the warmth of his hands on my skin, the way his fingers moved carefully over me, told me he wasn’t lying. He saw me. The real me. Not the broken pieces I tried to hide.

His hands moved to my stomach, gently lathering the soap along the curve of my waist. I could feel myself wanting to shrink away, but I stayed, breathing in deeply, trying to let myself relax. I had to remind myself that this was Chris. The same Chris who had made me laugh in ways I had forgotten. The same Chris who had been my friend, my constant, long before everything had gone wrong. And now, he was still here.

“Almost done,” he said, his voice quiet, soothing. His hands moved slowly, methodically, as though trying to memorize the feel of me, as though he needed to make sure I was taken care of.

I nodded again, my throat tight with emotion, but the discomfort started to ease just a little. His hands felt like safety, like protection, and I let the warmth of the water, of him, wash over me.

When he finished, Chris gently pulled his hands away and grabbed the towel from the nearby rack. His fingers worked quickly, drying my skin with soft, deliberate motions. His touch, while gentle, was insistent, as if he was trying to remind me that I was still here, still whole, even if it didn’t feel like it.

“Come on,” he said, his voice soft, a smile tugging at his lips as he helped me out of the tub. “Let’s get you cozy.”

As he helped me into a pair of his old sweatpants and a loose hoodie, I couldn’t help but notice how his hands lingered over the soft fabric. It felt so… normal. The simple act of being cared for, of being seen, was something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time.

When he finished, he tucked me into his bed, the soft covers enveloping me like a cocoon. He sat on the edge, just watching me, his eyes full of something I didn’t know how to name.

“I’m here,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, or not talk, I’m here.”

I nodded, the exhaustion of everything that had happened weighing heavily on me. But for the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t drowning in it all. Chris was here, and I wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

“Chris,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant to let myself get this far.”

“I know,” he replied softly, his fingers brushing through my hair. “But it’s not your fault. You’re not to blame for the things that have happened to you. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to go through.”

I sighed deeply, the weight of his words sinking into me. I closed my eyes, a tear slipping down my cheek despite my best efforts to hold it in. I could feel his hand on my cheek, wiping away the tear.

The room felt heavy, the silence between us thick with unspoken things. I had shared the worst parts of myself with Chris—the parts of me I had been hiding, the parts I hadn’t dared to look at in years. But as the words left my mouth, I realized how much more there was to say, how much I had buried beneath the surface. And now, with Chris here, his steady presence beside me, it felt like the dam inside me had broken open.

Chris didn’t speak immediately, but I could feel his anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. It was there in the way his jaw tightened, in the way his fingers gently squeezed mine, as if he were trying to hold me together while trying to contain the fury building inside him.

“You’re safe now, (Y/N),” he said softly, but there was a strain in his voice. “But I want to know more. I need to know what happened… all of it.”

I looked up at him, the room dim in the evening light, but his eyes were bright with the weight of his emotions. “I don’t know if I can…” My voice wavered, as if speaking the words out loud might make them more real, more permanent. “I don’t know how to tell you.”

He didn’t rush me. He just sat there, steady, waiting. “You don’t have to do it all at once, but I’m here, and I want to hear it. Whatever you’re ready to share.”

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat like a stone that wouldn’t budge. It was too much, too overwhelming. But his patience, the way he was just there—unwavering—made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I could say it.

I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my shaky breath. “He’s… he’s still hitting me.” The words slipped out like daggers, sharp and jagged, and I couldn’t take them back.

Chris’s face twisted in disgust, his eyes blazing with something darker, something I couldn’t quite place. His grip on my hand tightened to the point of pain, but I didn’t want him to let go. “What do you mean, still?” he spat, his voice trembling with anger. “What the hell do you mean, still hitting you? After everything? After all these years?”

I flinched, the pain of his words stinging more than I expected, but not in a bad way. Chris was angry—for me, for the things I had endured—and I needed that anger. It was the first time someone had ever been angry for me.

“He doesn’t care. He never did. He doesn’t care that I’m his daughter.” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes again, the tightness in my chest making it hard to breathe. “I don’t know what to do. He’ll always come back. He won’t stop.”

“God, I’m so fucking mad at him right now,” Chris growled, slamming his fist down on the bed between us. “How could anyone do that to you? I don’t care if he’s your dad—no one should ever lay a finger on you. No one.”

I could see the pain in his eyes, the rage that burned there, but it was mixed with something else too—something softer. Concern, protectiveness, the desire to shield me from all of it.

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips as the tears started to fall. “He just… he can’t stop, Chris. He gets drunk, and then it’s like he doesn’t even see me anymore. He just sees someone to hurt. And I don’t know how to make it stop. I don’t know how to get out.”

I could feel the panic rising in me again, that familiar, overwhelming sense of suffocation creeping in like it always did when I thought about the fear of being stuck, of being trapped in that life. The life where I wasn’t safe, where I wasn’t even allowed to feel like I mattered.

Chris’s voice became softer, almost a whisper, but it was full of resolve. “You don’t have to go back to him, (Y/N). You don’t have to live like that. I won’t let you.” His hands gently cupped my face, as though he were trying to steady me, trying to pull me back from the edge I felt myself teetering on. “You deserve so much more than this, and I swear to you, I’m going to help you get out of this. We’ll figure it out together.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that things could be different, that I didn’t have to go back to the house that had been my prison for so long. But the doubt gnawed at me, a constant voice in the back of my head telling me that it was all just a dream, that things would never change.

“I don’t know how,” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat again. The panic was slowly building inside me, and I couldn’t stop it. My hands began to shake violently, and I felt like I was drowning in the tightness in my chest. The room began to spin, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

“Chris,” I gasped, clutching at his shirt, “I can’t breathe…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Chris said urgently, his hands moving to my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. “Just focus on me, okay? Focus on me. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

But the panic didn’t stop. My chest felt tight, my heartbeat erratic, and I couldn’t seem to calm down. Every breath I took felt shallow, as though the air wasn’t getting into my lungs. I could feel the walls closing in again, just like they did every time I let myself think about what my dad had done to me.

I began to tremble uncontrollably, my hands like ice against his warm skin. My head felt light, and I had to fight the overwhelming urge to collapse.

“Chris, I can’t…” I whispered between gasps, feeling the world slipping away from me. “I’m scared. I’m scared of what will happen if I can’t get away. I’m scared of him coming after me, of never being free.”

Chris’s eyes were frantic now, but he was still holding me steady, his voice unwavering. “You’re not alone in this, (Y/N). I won’t let you go through this alone, okay? You’re safe now. You’re with me. We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

He moved his hands down to my back, rubbing slow circles as he whispered over and over again, “Breathe. Just breathe. In… out… You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. I won’t let him hurt you again. I won’t let him hurt you anymore.”

I tried to focus on his voice, to let the steady rhythm of his words ground me, but my body wouldn’t stop shaking. My breath was still shallow, and I felt like I was drowning in the memories, in the fear of my dad’s hands on me, of his voice shouting at me, of the pain I’d felt when he told me I wasn’t worth anything.

But then, slowly, my breath started to steady. The panic began to recede, and I was left trembling in Chris’s arms, my chest heaving, but the overwhelming tightness starting to fade.

“You’re okay,” Chris said softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “You’re here with me. You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere.”

I closed my eyes, clinging to him like he was the only thing that could keep me from falling apart. But as much as I tried to believe it—tried to believe him—there was still a part of me that felt like I was trapped. Still a part of me that didn’t know how to escape the life I’d been born into.

But with Chris’s arms around me, his warmth seeping into me, I felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something different.

The room felt quieter now, the oppressive weight of my panic slowly lifting as Chris’s steady presence calmed the storm inside me. His arms, strong but gentle, still wrapped around me, and for the first time since I’d entered his house, I felt a sense of calm begin to settle deep in my chest. The world outside might still be chaotic, but here, in this space with him, I was allowed to be broken. I didn’t have to hide. And for once, that thought didn’t scare me—it comforted me.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, my voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”

Chris shook his head softly, pulling me a little closer. “You don’t ever have to apologize for that,” he said quietly, his voice calm but firm, as if wanting to erase the guilt I felt. “You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling. I’m just glad you’re here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

I leaned into him, feeling his warmth seep through the thin fabric of my hoodie. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear was grounding. It was like listening to the sound of something real and tangible, something that wasn’t connected to the chaos that always seemed to follow me. His love, his presence—everything about him was real, and it was one of the only things I felt I could rely on.

The minutes stretched on, and gradually, the shaking in my body slowed. My breath deepened, and though I still felt raw, the sharpness of the panic attack had dulled into a more manageable ache. It was as though, piece by piece, I was learning to breathe again.

“Are you feeling better?” Chris asked after a moment, his voice low and careful, as if afraid to disturb the delicate balance we had found. He pulled back slightly to look at me, his eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.

I nodded, but my voice still trembled. “Yeah… just a little… dizzy. But better. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Chris murmured, wiping a stray tear from my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I’m just glad I could help. You’re not alone, (Y/N). You never will be again.”

I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the lump in my throat. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been there for me, Chris. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Stop saying that,” he said firmly, his tone soft but resolute. “You’ve always deserved it. You deserve every bit of love and care in the world, (Y/N). You deserve to feel safe. You deserve to heal.”

His words lingered in the air between us, and for a moment, I felt a wave of gratitude rush over me. It was hard for me to accept that kind of love, to believe I was worthy of it, but I didn’t want to push him away anymore. Not when he was trying so hard to give me something I’d never had before.

We sat there for a while, neither of us saying much, just being in each other’s presence. It felt like time had slowed down in the most comforting way possible. The panic that had felt suffocating now seemed like a distant memory, and I realized, with a twinge of bittersweetness, how much I had missed moments like this. Moments where I didn’t have to pretend to be something I wasn’t.

Chris cleared his throat after a while, breaking the silence. “You know, I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, his fingers gently tracing the back of my hand. “I’ve missed having you around. I missed having you sleep over.”

My heart skipped a beat at his words. The memories of spending nights at his house, hiding away from the world, were so much clearer now. There was comfort in those late-night talks, in the sound of his brothers’ laughter echoing through the house, in the feeling of being part of something that wasn’t broken. Something that made me forget the things I had to escape at home.

“I missed it too,” I replied, the words escaping before I could stop them. “It was the only time I felt like… like I had a family, you know? Like I was safe.”

Chris’s gaze softened, and for a moment, I could see the tenderness in his eyes. “You are family, (Y/N),” he said. “You always have been. You’re just as much a part of us as Matt, Nick, and me. Don’t ever doubt that.”

I felt a lump in my throat at his words. It was hard to accept that kind of care, but somehow, with him, it didn’t feel as impossible. It felt like it might actually be real. “You guys were always the closest thing to family I had,” I said, my voice quieter now. “When I stayed at your house, it was like everything else faded away. Like I could breathe for the first time in so long.”

“I know,” he said, his voice soft, yet tinged with an almost protective edge. “That’s why I want you to come over more. And stay as long as you want, okay?”

I nodded, the idea of having a constant refuge growing more and more appealing. “I really appreciate you, Chris. More than you know.”

He smiled then, a small, soft smile, but it was enough to make my heart flutter. “You don’t need to thank me,” he said, reaching over and squeezing my hand gently. “You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

The words hung between us, and for a moment, I let myself believe them. I had spent so long thinking I wasn’t worthy of love, of care, but with Chris, it felt like I might just be wrong.

Chris then leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I was thinking… if you’re comfortable with it, you could sleep over tonight. We have a guest room, but if you want, you can sleep in my room too. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”

The thought of sleeping under the same roof as him, of being so close to him, made my heart race in ways I didn’t quite understand yet. But the idea of being in a space where I could truly rest—without the constant tension and fear of home—sounded like a dream.

“I… I’d like that,” I said softly, the words barely leaving my lips before Chris’s face broke into a smile.

“Good,” he said, his voice warmer now. “It’s settled, then. You’re staying.”

I smiled back at him, feeling a surge of appreciation flood through me. “Thank you. Really.”

Chris leaned in to kiss the top of my head, his breath warm against my hair. “You’re welcome. Now, go get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The night was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioning, the occasional creak of the house settling, and the faint sounds of traffic from outside. The room was dimly lit, soft moonlight streaming through the curtains. I stood by Chris’s door, my fingers tracing the edge of the frame, unsure of what to do next.

Chris had already prepared the guest room for me. The bed was neatly made, the pillows fluffed. But as I stood there, I realized something—something I hadn’t admitted to myself until now: I didn’t want to sleep alone. Not tonight. Not after everything that had happened.

I glanced over at Chris, who was sitting on the edge of his bed. His eyes were soft, yet filled with that familiar protectiveness I had come to rely on. He’d given me the option of sleeping in the guest room, but he didn’t press it. He just watched me, waiting for me to make up my mind. And somehow, that quiet patience made everything feel a little easier.

“Are you sure?” he asked gently, his voice low. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

I nodded slowly, swallowing the knot in my throat. “I want to stay with you,” I whispered. The words felt vulnerable, like I was admitting something I’d been too afraid to admit even to myself. But as I looked at him, something in me softened. I didn’t have to be afraid here. Not with him.

Chris didn’t respond right away. He just smiled a little, that soft, comforting smile of his, the one that always made me feel like maybe everything wasn’t so broken after all. He patted the bed beside him, a simple invitation. “Come on then. Get comfortable.”

I hesitated, standing there in the middle of the room, still holding the hem of my oversized hoodie, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. I had spent so many nights alone in my own bed, trying to sleep through the memories of my father’s anger, the shouts, the pounding fists, the feeling of being trapped in a house that never felt like home. But tonight, I wasn’t alone. Not really.

I crawled into the bed, my body feeling stiff, not quite sure what to do next. Chris kept his distance at first, settling in on his side of the bed, turning on his side to face away from me. His back was to me, but I could feel the space between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the closeness I longed for either. I needed something more than distance, more than just his presence across the room.

I reached out tentatively, my hand brushing the edge of his shirt, and in a soft whisper, I said, “Chris?”

His body tensed for a split second, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, his voice was low, a little rough. “Yeah?”

“I… I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I said, barely able to form the words. The truth was, I was scared. Scared of the nightmares that might come, scared of the darkness and what it might bring. But more than that, I was scared of being vulnerable, of needing someone and not knowing how to ask for it.

Chris’s response was immediate. He turned around slowly, facing me, his expression soft, understanding. He didn’t say anything right away, but instead, he reached out, gently guiding me toward him. “You’re not alone, (Y/N). Not anymore,” he whispered, his voice full of conviction.

It wasn’t like I was scared—no, that wasn’t it—but there was a strange sense of comfort in being this close to someone who truly cared. Still, the distance between us remained for a moment, and I couldn’t help but feel a little unsure of myself.

Chris didn’t press, though. He just stayed where he was, pulling the covers up around him. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but I found myself inching closer, seeking the warmth of his body, the connection I had been craving but too scared to ask for.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him moving toward the small dresser by the bed. He started to unbutton his shirt, unaware that I was watching.

The suddenness of it made my heart skip a beat. My gaze followed his every movement, captivated by the way his body moved as he shed his shirt. He wasn’t being flashy or deliberate; it was just natural for him, the way he carried himself with a quiet confidence that made my stomach twist in the best way. I could see the muscles in his back shift as he pulled the shirt over his head, his toned body now exposed to the dim light of the room.

I hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected the moment of stillness where I could appreciate him in his simplest form. He wasn’t trying to impress me, wasn’t posing or playing it up. It was just him.

And for the first time, I truly saw him. The sculpted shoulders, the defined muscles along his arms, the way his skin seemed to glow under the soft light, the gentle curve of his back. Everything about him was perfect. So perfectly human, so real, that it almost overwhelmed me.

Chris turned toward me then, his chest now bare, and I quickly looked away, my face flushing as I realized I had been staring. But before I could feel embarrassed, I caught him looking at me, that mischievous smile curling up at the corners of his lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice teasing but with an underlying softness. He knew exactly what I was thinking.

I swallowed, trying to find words. “I, uh… you look perfect,” I mumbled, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

He chuckled, not at all fazed by my awkwardness. “You’re the only one who thinks so.” He reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down with ease and slipping into a fresh pair before sliding back into bed beside me.

But there was a softness in his movements now, a tenderness that came with his willingness to let me see him—let me in. He wasn’t just showing me his body, but his trust. And that meant more than anything.

As he settled back into bed, he turned toward me, the space between us finally closing as he reached out a hand. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his voice so gentle that it made my heart ache.

I nodded, this time more certain. “I’m okay. I just… I missed being close to someone. To you.”

And then, he opened his arms.

I didn’t hesitate this time. My heart pounded in my chest, and with a mix of relief and hesitance, I scooted closer, curling up against his chest. The warmth of his body was comforting, a quiet reassurance that I wasn’t in this fight alone. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me in, his embrace tight but not suffocating. I felt his breath on the top of my head, steady and rhythmic, like a heartbeat.

For a moment, everything felt safe. The chaos of my mind, the pain of my past, all of it seemed to fade away as I listened to the sound of Chris’s heartbeat, the steady thrum of life that was so different from the anger and fear I’d been accustomed to. He was here, and for tonight, that was enough.

I let out a long, shaky breath, feeling my body relax in his arms. But I still couldn’t help the thoughts that crept into my mind—the way I felt so small in his arms, how much I had lost, and how little I had ever felt cared for. But then, as if sensing my discomfort, Chris moved slightly, adjusting his position so that we were closer, my head resting on his chest. His hand gently began to stroke my hair, his fingers threading through the strands in a slow, comforting rhythm.

His fingers continued to gently play with my hair, and I could feel the soft, steady rhythm of his hand. It was so soothing, the motion familiar in a way I couldn’t explain. It felt like home, like something I’d been searching for without even knowing it. His scent, that familiar cologne mixed with the clean scent of soap, enveloped me, and for the first time in so long, I felt like I could breathe.

His hand reached for mine then, his fingers lacing with mine in the quiet dark of the room. The simple connection was grounding, and as he pulled me closer, I felt something shift. I had been running from the past for so long, so afraid of what was behind me that I hadn’t realized how desperate I was for the present. For someone who cared.

“Your hair smells so good,” I said quietly, a small smile tugging at my lips. I had never noticed how comforting his scent was before. It was like a reassurance I hadn’t realized I needed.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. “It’s just shampoo,” he teased, but I could tell he was pleased by my words. He continued to play with my hair, the action so tender that it almost made me feel like I was someone worth caring for.

“It’s not just shampoo,” I said softly, lifting my head a little to look at him. “It’s you. You’re… comforting, Chris. It’s like… I feel safe when I’m with you.”

I leaned my head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath me calming the frantic pulse of my own. His arm wrapped around me as I settled more fully against him. I could feel his breath on the top of my head as he shifted, pulling me just a little closer.

“You know, I could get used to this,” I said, the words slipping out before I could fully process them. “I missed sleeping over at your house… when I could just escape home for a bit.”

Chris stiffened for a moment, as if processing my words. Then, he ran his fingers through my hair gently, his touch so soft that it almost felt like he was tracing the contours of my soul.

“I know,” he said quietly. “You’re welcome here anytime, (Y/N). Don’t ever feel like you can’t come over. It was never about just ‘hanging out,’ you know? I care about you. I always have.”

My chest tightened at his words, the weight of them sinking deep inside me. I closed my eyes, trying to take in the comfort of his embrace, trying to let myself believe him. I could feel the warmth of his body against mine, the quiet strength that emanated from him, and it made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

The words settled in my heart like a balm, soothing the wounds that had never quite healed. I felt his fingers moving slowly through my hair again, and this time, there was no rush. Just us, wrapped in the quiet security of knowing that we didn’t have to face the world alone.

As the night stretched on, I felt myself relax more, his steady breath and gentle touch lulling me into a peaceful stillness. He kept playing with my hair, his hand brushing over my forehead, smoothing out any lingering tension. The rhythm of his movements was comforting, and I found myself drifting, my eyelids growing heavier as I rested against his chest.

“I don’t ever want to leave,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper now, sleep creeping in.

“You don’t have to,” Chris replied softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Stay as long as you need.”

And with that, I let myself fall into the warmth of his embrace, the first true rest I’d had in what felt like a lifetime.

“I don’t deserve you,” I whispered, the words barely escaping my lips, but somehow, they felt true.

Chris pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt my chin up so I could see his face. “You deserve everything, (Y/N). More than you know. Don’t ever forget that.”

I felt a lump form in my throat, but instead of pushing it down, I let it rise. Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him, my heart aching with the need to express how much his words meant to me.

“You’re too good to me,” I said, voice breaking. “I don’t know how to repay you for all of this.”

He smiled softly, brushing a stray tear away from my cheek. “You don’t need to repay me. Just… let me be here for you. That’s all.”

His voice was so steady, so comforting, and as he pulled me back into his chest, I felt everything fall into place. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel so alone.

With Chris by my side, I had everything I needed.

A/N: Hey, loves! 💖 First off, thank you so much for making it this far. Your support honestly means the world to me, and I can't thank you enough. I know this chapter feels a little more low-key and maybe even rushed—life’s been a bit chaotic on my end—but I really wanted to take the time to dig deeper into the characters and their emotions. A special thanks to @bernardsbendystraws for being such an inspiration to this fic. You’ve truly helped shape the direction of this story!

This chapter touches on some really heavy topics, especially around eating disorders, and I hope it gets recognition! It's a difficult subject to navigate, but it's so important to shed light on it. I appreciate all of you who stick with me and support these moments in the story. You all keep me going!

If you or someone you care about is struggling with anorexia, please reach out to the helpline at [National Eating Disorders Association Helpline: 1-800-931-2237 or text "NEDA" to 741741]. You are not alone, and there is always support available when you need it.

taglist: @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

39 notes · View notes

sarcasticgaypotato · 3 days ago

Text

The Best Solution

On cold, clear nights that bathed the world in pale blue light, Chell turned her chin up and looked at the sky.

She was not afflicted with the condition known as ‘sentimentality,’ no matter how many scorch-marked, heart-adorned metal cubes got thrown her way and left behind in fields of wheat a hundred miles away. But the ravaged surface world offered her little (save for her own freedom) and the nights were as quiet and lonely as the days, just without an excuse to fill her time by finding something to busy herself with under the light of the sun.

So, she looked upward and let her mind wander.

Every streak of a shooting star she hoped was a certain circular heap of scrap metal finally burning up in the atmosphere.

“Let go! I’m still connected. I can pull myself in.”

Of course he could. If she had given him half a chance, he would’ve pulled himself back in just fine—and let her fly off into space without a second thought if it would save his own steel.

The cold vacuum of space. When she closed her eyes, Chell could still feel it in the wind that tickled the stray hairs on the back of her neck, in the cold that stole the breath from her lungs as she gasped it. That rush of weightlessness, her eyes watering and freezing her eyelashes together, and that pit in her stomach that said, after everything she had survived, this might be it.

She stared up at the moon; a pale white beauty, once near enough for Chell to reach out and touch, now as distant as ever. A sliver in the night sky, it grinned down at her with a smile that knew the taste of her fear. An untouchable queen who would have her head, if she had her way. Chell would have called it as familiar as it was deadly, if not for one thing that nagged at her mind as she stared, lost among stars and memories alike.

This was always the point in her late-night stargazing that Chell started scratching absentmindedly at her wrist, where the phantom burn of cold metal claws still seared into her skin.

Chell never fell for any of GLaDOS’s tricks; she knew her too well. That hate was familiar, expected. Working together in Old Aperture was a surprise only for a moment; it was logical if they wanted to survive. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or “Everybody likes revenge,” as a certain someone had put it.

She trusted GLaDOS’s intelligence enough to know that she would play nice for as long as they had a shared goal, and for as long as Chell held all the power. Don’t bite the hand that holds your consciousness trapped in a potato battery, or something like that.

Chell had even been fairly confident that after they beat Wheatley (she never had any doubt that they would), as long as she kept her guard up and an eye on her, GLaDOS wouldn’t risk betraying her. The world’s most intelligent lifeform had finally learned that Chell wasn’t worth crossing—it only took two losing battles for the lesson to sink in.

GLaDOS would keep her end of the bargain as long as it was convenient to do so. That was why Chell couldn’t make sense of what happened. No matter how many times she replayed those seconds in her head, watching her own memories in slow motion as GLaDOS knocked Wheatley free of the chassis and sent him spinning into space, robbing Chell of her only anchor to Earth.

Freefall.

Could you call it falling without gravity? Spinning, flailing, her body wrenched outward, seconds away from dying in space, embarrassingly outlived by the very same moron who was responsible for this whole mess. In the second that she had to process her impending death, Chell took a small hint of satisfaction in knowing that at least she took him down with her. Sure, the lack of air wouldn’t kill him as quickly as it would her, but he was far from a self-proclaimed king of Aperture out here. He was nothing but a hunk of junk destined to get knocked around by asteroids like a pinball. At least GLaDOS had a death worth bragging about under her non-existent belt; Chell had blown her to bits in what she would humbly call ‘a spectacular fashion.’

GLaDOS. Was her last thought before unconsciousness took her going to be about GLaDOS? How apt. GLaDOS would’ve loved to hear that, not that Chell would’ve ever told her, even if she had the chance.

She wouldn’t have the chance. She wasn’t supposed to.

When Chell felt that familiar metal claw clamp around her wrist, the first thought her fading consciousness could conjure was that GLaDOS wanted to be personally responsible for flinging her out into space, maybe so she could get a good spin on the throw. The realization that GLaDOS was pulling her in, back towards Earth, to safety, was one that proved entirely too much for her oxygen-deprived brain to process. So, she passed out.

GLaDOS could have done nothing at all, and Chell would have died. If she wanted the satisfaction of doing it herself, she could have crushed her under a metal plate or thrown her in the incinerator while she was unconscious. Instead, GLaDOS saved her life, watched over her recovery until she awoke, and then … let her go with only a bit of theatrics and nothing else.

She pinned the blame on Caroline and made a big show of deleting her, neither of which Chell believed for a second. That golden eye took her in, unflinching, with the same inscrutable expression before and after the automated voice cheerfully announced Caroline’s removal. A long dead secretary Chell had never crossed paths with had nothing to do with this; there was no difference between the GLaDOS that pulled her from space and the GLaDOS who watched the elevator ascend to the surface now.

This was all her, and she was supposed to give them both a satisfying conclusion to them parting ways with weapons lowered, standing (even if one of them didn’t have legs) on equal ground. GLaDOS was supposed to make this easy by sending her off with an insult or a half-hearted threat of one last murder attempt for old times’ sake.

“Killing you is hard.”

Liar.

Killing me would have been easy if you wanted to.

Why didn’t you want to?

31 notes · View notes

raindropren · 2 months ago

Text

ALIENKEEP DUO SKETCH PAGE >:D

Do they interact in the page? nope, but did I only draw the two, ya, and it was a conscious decision! I will draw the two interacting at some point, they're so silly to me!!!! :D

Close-up's and explanation rambles below! :]

DL Pearl! She walkin!!! There was gonna be a Tilly aswell but I could not for the life of me draw a dog. so I didn't </3 Either way! I had an animation idea but,,, I can't,,, do any animation,, so I just draw somethin cause I liikkeee ittt :] It was the first thing I drew on the page, and it's sorta tiny despite being a fullbody, also I'm proud of it! I don't do side profiles ever! and walking? that's new! yiippee!! :D

"They say my hunger's a problem, They tell me to curb my appetite."

Butcher Vanity is a very good song and when and if I'm able to I will try to make a DL-centric animation for it. I'm totally misunderstanding the song but I very much don't care at this point, it's just a silly concept idea rn :p either way, I just think she's sooooo funn (:

"Impulse!! SV"

It's Impulse!!! I really wanted to make a design for him :3 He was super fun to draw ngl, it's a surprise I hadn't beforehand! The design is pretty inspired by @/mxmarsbars 's Impulse design, Their design of him is probably the most,,, impulse design ever? like??? lol

It's mostly in piercings tho ;w; I don't draw many designs with piercings and they're so fun!! I need to more :]

"There's nothing but the past to long for now."

This is probably the laziest sketch of the bunch but I still quite like it :) I am still very attached to empires pearl, it consumed my soul at some point, i swear ;w; either way, Sunflowers!! yayy!!!

"pretty :)"

Empires Pearl my beloved :D Idk I just wanted to try and draw her again, I don't have a set design for her, somehow,,, but i love how i drew her this time, it's so cute!! :'D

He got alittle covered by the eye and mouth design stuff, but a smiley impulse!! He deserves happiness :'D

"tick tick tick tick tick tick"

I READ A FIC!!!!! and I,,, sobs,,,, DL Impulse :'3 IBFDSHUFHDIOBKHGJHBJKGKDFIUUDVHFGDFUK him :']

That was all of the close-up's and explanation rambles! I did them from first sketch on page to last! So that's why they're alittle scrambled lol!

10 notes · View notes

professionallydeadinside · 2 years ago

Text

Noooo Tangerine that's not what they meant by letting Ladybug out noooooo

#gore tw #blood tw #i can feel your heart beating under my skin #ALSO IDK HOW NICHE THIS IS BUT THIS WAS BASED OFF ''NEVERENDING NIGHTMARES'' BIG GORE INSPO #my art #fanart #bullet train #silas dont look #bullet train 2022

28 notes · View notes

thereareeyesinsidethetrees · 5 months ago

Text

more songs we've added to our ford playlist recently with no context (except for the last one, check the tags)

999999999 in a dream by ada rook (added back after being removed for over a year yippie)

the moon doesn't mind by lord huron

the wolf by fever ray

under my skin by jukebox the ghost

#we listen to 'under my skin' and think 'manipulation and abuse' not 'romance'#the being 'under the singer's skin' is manipulating them. the singer is attached to them but the being is just using them #('i think that you are just a grin' and 'i don't think there's anyone under your skin')#('i can feel you laughing under my skin and the happy palpitations are making me grin')#(our thoughts on two ways that last bit could go:#the singer (ford in this case) is misinterpreting the reason for the laughter #or. bill possessing ford. bill's ('under his skin' and therefore possessing him and/or in his mind)#laughter is causing the body he's puppeteering around to grin)#'but oh no not a chance in hell. yeah i've heard you sing but it ain't too well'#'heart melts yeah you meant so well but your song's no good round here'#^ ford right after being betrayed. still grappling with the idea that bill did that to him-#and his reasons for doing so. did he ever mean well? why did he do what he did?#it's also worth noting this lyric 'england has a way of getting under my skin and my family has a way of getting under my skin'#a more negative connotation paired with the being the singer's talking about being under their skin too #and clearly not being all they seem (the lyrics stated earlier + lyrics like 'i wish you were dead babe i wish you were dead'#and 'i can feel your heart beating under my skin and the beating of your heart is making me bleed from within'#could go on but you get the idea by now

3 notes · View notes

imaginedisish · 5 months ago

Text

I'm Not In Love (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, so this if my first fic in over a year, and it's also my first Wolverine fic...so please be kind. I'm just getting back into the groove. Expect it to possibly be a little rough. This is big time inspired by "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc. This fic is also thanks to a request I got from an anonymous user! Thanks for the idea, anon! Hope it's okay! Enjoy guys.

Summary: After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. There's like no plot here just smut, Unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), AFAB reader, Sizekink!(this was a specific size kink request, and so the reader is therefore described as being smaller than Logan/his shirt being big on her), cursing, praise kink, OOC!Logan (just putting this out there because I haven't seen the X-Men movies/read X-Men comics in forever and I'm probably giving him terms he doesn't use/having him act in ways he might not typically), feelings, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, one bed muahaha, probably grammar errors, think that's it?

Word Count: 3,162 I got carried away

He was driving you absolutely crazy. Logan. Logan fucking Howlett, with his cocksure attitude and self-satisfied smile. Maybe it’s the way he thinks he’s always right. Maybe it’s that stupid stubbornness, that prowl he does when he walks across a room to meet you. To mock you. His whole being towering over you—his musky, pine-scented cologne filling your lungs. He’s everywhere—and not just metaphorically—literally and physically. His giant frame shadows yours, and you can’t help but admit that there’s something about it…something about him.

You want him. Bad. And although you won’t admit it, you’ve wanted him for months. And so, as of lately, he’s not so much a nuisance as much as he’s a distraction.

You just had to be sent on this mission with Logan—this ridiculous two-day stake-out that you could have done on your own. You’re certainly strong enough; your telekinetic powers and regenerative abilities are enough to handle any situation. And yet, here you are, walking up to a motel with Logan fucking Howlett.

His frame practically consumes yours as he stands behind you on the sidewalk. You swear you can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your waist, impatient and ready to guide you forward. You silently wish he would—wish he would grab your hips and take you down that alleyway and—

“You okay, darlin’?” His voice is gruff against the shell of your ear. “You seem awfully distracted.”

You swallow your embarrassment and hope he won’t pick up on how fast your heart is beating. “I’m fine, just tired,” you mutter, lying straight through your teeth. You can feel his smirk against the side of your head. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to know how much you want him.

He chuckles and his chest vibrates against your back. “Too tired for the mission, bub? We’re almost at the motel, don’t worry.” The condescension in his voice is palpable. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. You’re putty in his hands.

He steps out from behind you, and before you can mourn the loss of the contact, he grabs your hand and leads the way through the doors of the motel. “This okay?” He whispers in your ear, his massive hand giving your smaller one a squeeze. All you can manage is a nod as you approach the front desk. You know it’s just to support your cover—you and Logan are posing as a married couple—but you can’t help but hope it means more. You need it to mean more.

God, you are so fucked.

You’re so distracted thinking about how close Logan is to you that you almost miss the moment when the worker at the front desk says the only room left has just one bed.

You crane your head to look up at Logan, who you find is already looking down at you.

“That’s perfect,” he says, his eyes still on you. His stare doesn’t budge as the man behind the front desk slides the key towards the two of you. Logan grabs the keys and finally breaks the moment. His hand is still holding yours as he navigates the two of you toward your motel room.

The room is…small. There’s one queen bed in the center, a bathroom on the other side of the room, and an old box television resting on an even older-looking oak dresser. On the bright side, the place appears to be clean.

“I should freshen up,” you say, taking off your shoes. Your hand slips out of Logan’s as you pad over to the bathroom with your bag.

The bathroom isn’t horrible either. Dated, but clean. You brush your teeth and wash your face before undressing and searching for your pajamas in your bag—which, naturally, you forgot to pack.

“Ah fuck,” You mutter louder than you meant to.

You hear Logan stirring in the other room, his footsteps quickly approaching the door. “You okay?” You can sense the concern in his voice, and you can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, just forgot to pack something to wear to bed.” There’s more shuffling on the other side of the door. You hear Logan’s bag zip.

“You want my shirt?” He asks, standing just outside the door now.

“I’d feel bad, then you—” Your protests are ignored as he opens the door just enough to toss his Calgary Flames t-shirt onto the bathroom sink, closing it tightly once the shirt lands. You smirk as you walk over to the shirt and put it on. The hem lands at the middle of your thighs. Logan really is massive, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath, slowly twist the knob of the bathroom door, and head outside. Logan is lounging on the chair next to the dresser, his eyes on you as you place your bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Th-thanks for the…” You stutter, trailing off as you nod down to the shirt.

Logan smirks as he pushes himself out of the chair and makes his way toward you. You think you see him take you in, look you up and down, but that can’t possibly be.

He shakes his head as he stops at your side. You swear you hear him mutter a low fuck under his breath. “You look good.” But he doesn’t stop for long. He pushes forward and into the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mumbles as he shuts the door behind him.

“Let’s just share the bed,” you shout back, unsure of where the confidence to say that came from. But there’s no response, just the running of water from the sink.

You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for what feels like forever, but Logan doesn’t take long at all. After a few minutes, you hear the sink shut off and the door creek open.

You shake your head as you stand from the bed to face him. “By the way, you’re not sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridic—” You’re too stunned to say another word. You’ve seen Logan shirtless before, sure, but not like this. Not in just his boxers. Not in a room with him, alone, for an entire night. You need to relax, to calm down, but there’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at. You know he can your heart beating out of your chest now.

He steps toward you, engulfing you with his presence. You stare up at him. “Am I really that scary?” He closes the distance between the two of you.

You try to play dumb. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Every time I get close to you, that little heart of yours practically explodes.”

You swallow roughly. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.” But your shaky voice gives it away. You know exactly what he means.

His arms snake around your waist, resting on your lower back. “Yeah, you do, darlin’,” he says. “You afraid of me or something?” God he is so fucking cocky, you think to yourself.

“’M’not afraid of you,” you whisper. “Could never be afraid of you.”

He smiles and walks you to the edge of the bed, your knees threatening to buckle under the pressure. “What is it then, hm? You like how big I am? That it?” Your eyes frantically search his face for some sort of excuse, some sort of denial. But he can read you like a book. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” He’s towering over you, caging you in.

“It’s more than that,” you admit.

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah? What?” He won’t let that be enough—you know he won’t. He’ll tease it out of you. His presence is dizzying and distracting. You’re not even sure you can form another complete sentence.

“I-it’s just you,” you finally choke out.

But it’s not enough for him. “What about me?”

Everything, you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel. “Logan, I…” But you can’t. I’m not in love, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself of for months.

“Go on, say it. What’s got you going?” He tightens his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently along your back. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. He’s everything and he’s everywhere. He’s in your head and in your hands. You can smell the musk and the pine and a hint of mint and that extra thing that is just distinctly him. He’s warm and his breath ever-so-lightly tickles your ear as his forehead rests against yours.

And then finally, it comes out.

“I want you, Lo.”

You open your eyes and immediately notice the change in his expression. That cocky grin is gone. He isn’t teasing anymore. This is something else. Want. No, stronger than that. Desire. Adoration. Longing. Like those four words undid something in him. Untangled some knot that had been there for far too long. Almost like he thought you maybe wouldn’t want this. That maybe someone wouldn’t want him.

So, you say it again. “I want you, Logan.”

He shuts his eyes. “Fuck.”

And then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. His lips find their way to yours, crashing like the world is about to end. You can feel his hunger, his desperation. He rests one hand next to your head for balance and slips his free hand underneath the shirt he lent you. He’s exploring the curves of your body, the dips and turns, eventually pulling the shirt up and over your head.

He comes up for air as his fingers play with the clasp of your bra. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “This okay?” He asks, waiting for your approval. You nod and the hooks are immediately undone. You arch your back so he can slip the bra off. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he mumbles. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

His hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing you, pinching lightly.

“Lo, please. Need you,” is all you can say.

He trails a line of kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the center of your chest, his mouth traveling achingly slowly until finally landing on one of your tits. He kisses your nipple before taking it into his mouth, biting lightly and licking the hurt away.

“Please,” you beg again.

He comes up for a moment. “Please what?” He asks before moving on to the other side.

“Need you so bad,” You whimper. But he doesn’t stop. “N-need you to touch me.”

He pauses again. “Think I’m already doing that, darlin’. Gonna have to be more specific.”

“Fuck me, please.”

He shakes his head. “Wanna make you feel good first, pretty girl.”

You sit up a bit, ready to protest. “But you are. You’re making me feel so—” You’re cut off by the sight of him staring up at you as he trails kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your panties. He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the center of the bed. His fingers slip under the hem of your panties, waiting for your approval. You nod, and he practically tears them right off you.

Logan kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly charting a path toward your core, his thumb tracing circles on the other thigh. You’re already squirming under his touch. “Lo,” You whimper. “Please—Fuck!” Without warning, his tongue licks a long stripe up your folds to your clit. His lips lock around it, sucking softly, his fingers suddenly teasing your entrance before slipping a finger inside.

“So tight darlin’. Gonna feel so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a jolt up your spine.

He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. His tongue laps at your cunt, licking slow circles as his finger pumps in and out. You need more.

“Lo,” You call out, your back arching in pleasure. But he doesn’t answer. He keeps going as if he’s gotten lost in you, as if there’s nothing that can possibly be said to bring him back. “Lo, please,” you moan again.

He chuckles against your core. “Please what, pretty girl?” He mumbles. You can feel his smirk against you.

“M-more,” you beg. You can feel his smirk grow wider as his motions stall. “No don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He looks up at you, his finger buried deep inside your cunt, his lips just inches from your clit. “Wanna take my time with you, darlin’.”

“Y-you c-can,” You stutter. “W-whatever you want. Just need more.”

“More?” He repeats, arrogantly tilting his head. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

“Yes, please.” But you know by the look in his eyes that you’re getting more than you bargained for.

He adds another finger, pumping in and out faster than before. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly. It’s overwhelming, and you know he isn’t going to let up. His tongue draws circles around your core, flicking harshly before ruthlessly sucking again. You can feel a third finger prodding your entrance before slipping in and stretching you out.

“This what you wanted?” He teases.

“Lo, I—” It’s too much, you can’t speak.

“I’ve got you darlin’. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me.” His words by themselves practically send you over the edge.

“’M’so close Logan,” You whimper, spurring him on. His pace quickens; his circles become harder. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers.

“I know, pretty girl. Wanna feel you come on my fingers. Can you do that for me?”

You can’t even speak anymore. All you can manage is a hum that passes for an affirmative. He pumps in and out of you, still alternating between sucking your clit and circling it with his tongue.

“Look so beautiful like this darlin’. So fucking beautiful,” He husks. And that’s all it takes to make that liquid heat, that tension building in the bottom of your stomach, cut like a knife, pouring out of you. Your vision blurs as you let yourself go. You chant his name like it’s a prayer, a spell, something otherworldly. He finally slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm.

He pulls out and away from you, crawling up your body so that he’s on top of you. He’s absolutely huge; his arms rest next to your head, caging you in. “You alright sweetheart?” He asks, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead.

“Hm,” You hum. “Like you like this.”

There’s that cocky smirk again. “Like what?”

“O-on top of me,” You admit freely now. Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, but he quickly pins them above your head.

He smiles widely, his forehead coming down to rest on yours. You can feel his erection press against your core through his boxers. And—fuck—he’s big. “Gonna fuck you like this then, okay pretty girl?”

“P-please,” you stutter.

He sits up, pulling his boxers down, revealing just how big he is. You swallow harshly, sitting up and watching as he casts his boxers to the side. He doesn’t let you watch for long. He pins you down again, one hand keeping your hands above your head and supporting his weight, while the other guides his cock to your entrance. His slides against your folds before slowly sinking inside you. You can’t help but arch your back to meet his chest.

Everything is slow. He’s taking his time again, letting himself feel every inch of you, giving you the chance to adjust to the size of him. His free hand reaches in between your bodies and finds your clit, drawing slow, gentle circles.

His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you. “Wanted this for so long,” he confesses, his thrusts growing faster. “Always wanted you, darlin’.” You can feel your heart burst in your chest as his lips meet yours. You can feel his hunger, his desire.

“Wanted you too,” You whisper against his lips between kisses.

His cock rubs against your walls, hitting that sweet spot every single time. He’s massive, stretching you out with each pump. He builds speed, his thrusts growing rougher as his fingers circle your clit faster.

He whispers praises in your ear. “You feel so good, pretty girl. So fucking tight. Need you, darlin’. Always.”

Always.

It’s all too much. The words, the vulnerability, the feeling of him rutting into you with no end in sight. The promise of something else, something more.

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, your walls tightening around him. It’s all so overwhelming. But if you’re being honest, you never want it to end. This. This feeling. Him inside you. Him around you.

He curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster as he chases his orgasm. “I know darlin’. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” He keeps his fingers steady on your clit, circling roughly, chasing your orgasm too.

“Lo,” You mumble. “It’s so good. Y-you’re so good, so b-beautiful.” You’re a bumbling mess, but you want him to feel good too, to know what he’s doing to you, to know that he deserves this. Deserves to be wanted.

You feel wetness on his cheeks as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Always wanted you,” he whispers again against the shell of your ear. “Always gonna want you.”

The tension snaps, and you feel blaring white heat ripple through your body. Logan somehow buries himself deeper inside you as you come, your walls squeezing him tighter.

“F-fuck,” he groans. “Where do you want—”

You cut him off this time. “Inside, please,” you pant. “Safe.” He curses under his breath and calls out your name as he fills you up.

“So perfect,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

His thrusts slow down as he finishes, and he slowly pulls out of you. But he doesn’t pull away. He keeps you close, moving you both towards the headboard. It takes a minute, but he manages to keep you close to his chest as he undoes the covers and gets you both inside them.

Logan holds you tightly, peppering kisses against your temples every now and then.

He’s the first to speak. “When I said always…” He trails off. You brace yourself for the worst. It was just the heat of the moment, bub. ‘M’sorry I said it. This shouldn’t happen again. It was a one-time thing and I—

“I meant it.”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He smiles. But it’s not that cocky smile, not that self-satisfied shit-eating grin. It’s that other thing again. Longing.

“I meant it, too.”

tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung

#logan howlett x reader #James Logan howlett x reader #Logan howlett smut #Logan howlett x reader smut #Logan howlett x you #Logan howlett x you smut #James Logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader smut #wolverine smut #Logan howlett x reader one bed #wolverine x reader one bed

5K notes · View notes