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ahqkas · 9 months ago

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♯ TOO SWEET ; mattheo riddle

❛ i take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at 3, you’re too sweet for me ❜

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! in which mattheo recalled the two times you were too sweet for him (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 4.1k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! consummation of alcohol, lovesick mattheo, fluff, angst, a lot of my hcs for mattheo’s past (i wrote him the way i see him), lmk if i missed smth !!

NOTES! this is purely my view on mattheo’s character bc the hc i wrote suit him sm 😿😿 reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated <3

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

ONCE A MAN FALLS IN LOVE, he finds himself drawn to not just the physical beauty of his muse, but for the essence of who the person truly is - their quirks, intelligence, kindness, and their unique way of seeing the world. Every interaction, every shared experience, every memory he brings, adds another layer to his adoration towards the love of his life.

His love for them is evident in the little things - the way he watches them when they aren't looking, the small gestures of thoughtfulness, the silent support during their dark moments of life. It's in the way he listens, truly listens, to the hopes and dreams, fears and frustrations, always eager to offer his thoughts and ideas. This love manifests in his desire to be their anchor in times of storm, their cheerleader in moments of triumph, and their person in all the in-betweens. It is a love that values their independence and individuality, recognizing that they are their own person with their own journey, and yet, he longs to be a part of that journey, to walk alongside them and share in their joys and sorrows of life.

Mattheo Riddle was no different.

He marvels at your kindness, your sweetness, and the light you bring into his life. You are his muse, his inspiration, a spark of the goodness that stands in stark contrast to his own perceived flaws and insecurities he feels deep inside himself. He sees you as an angel, a pure and radiant being who somehow chose to share your life with him, despite his own imperfections and inner demons.

He sees you as an angel in a human form, who chose to live among the devils, just so he could feel the heavenly touch for the first and last time in all eternity.

He often wonders how he, with all his rough edges, hidden scars, and a past life without a happy memory, could be worthy of your love. He feels like a monster, haunted by past mistakes and burdened by the weight of his own fears and failings. You, on the other hand, are everything he aspires to be - kind, compassionate, and endlessly forgiving. Your presence in his life is a constant reminder of the beauty and grace that he lacks, and yet, your love makes him strive to be better, to rise above his darkness and become someone worthy of your affection.

In his heart, he knows that your love is transforming him, helping him to heal and grow. Your existence is a light that dispels his inner darkness, a reminder for him to cherish that even monsters like him can be loved. He clings to this, that your love is making him a better man, one day at a time.

01. THE PARTY

The Slytherin common room was full of shadows and flickering lights, transformed into a wild moment of freedom for the night. The music, a thundering beat that echoed off the stone walls, could be heard from miles away, yet no professor or ghost visited the common room to cancel the party. It was as if the ancient castle itself had granted this one night of freedom to its most cunning and ambitious students. The rhythmic thrum of bass notes and the infectious melody of the latest wizarding hits filled the air, blending with the sound of laughter and the clink of glasses.

Bodies moved in a hypnotic dance, swaying in sync with the music. The students had discarded their usual aloof demeanors and uniforms, lost in the euphoria and joy of the moment. Green and silver decorations adorned every surface, shimmering under the enchanted lights that hung from the ceiling like glowing jewels. Laughter rang out, high and clear, mingling with the deep, resonant hum of conversation.

In one corner, a group of seventh years huddled together, their heads bent close in a whisper, before erupting into loud laughter. Nearby, a couple twirled around each other, their bodies intertwining like dark waves, eyes locked in their private world amidst the chaos around them. The fireplace, usually a place of quiet contemplation, was now surrounded by students perched on its stone ledge, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of the night and alcohol.

Long tables filled with food and drink stretched along one wall, bearing the weight of a feast other students could be jealous of. Platters of magical meals, charmed to stay warm, smelled of aromas that mingled with the scent of butterbeer and stronger beverages. Bottles of firewhisky and elf-made wine were passed from hand to hand, each sip fueling the atmosphere more and more as drunken the students got. The alcohol flowed freely, loosening tongues, transforming even the shyest students into party animals of the night.

The Slytherin common room had never felt so alive. Tonight, they were not just the students of Hogwarts; they were a family, united by their house and their understanding of what it meant to be a Slytherin.

Mattheo Riddle was one of those students who were enjoying themselves tonight. His breathing features were illuminated by the green lights as he leaned casually against a stone wall, a cup of firewhisky filled to the brim in his hand. The amber liquid sloshed perilously close to the edge with each of his slowed gestures, but Mattheo seemed unconcerned, clearly lost in the haze of alcohol. His dark curls, usually styled in the way that made uncountable amount of girls fall on their knees, now fell loose around his face as you watched from a close distance.

He was engaged in a drunken conversation with Theodore Nott, whose tall, lanky frame was the opposite to Mattheo's more athletic build. Theo's typically serious demeanor had softened, his features relaxed into a rare, genuine smile as he listened to Mattheo's ramblings with a giggle threatening to spill out from his lips. The two of them, often seen together, now looked like true brothers. It was almost scary how much they resembled family when they were drunk.

Mattheo's voice, rich and slightly slurred, carried over the music as he recounted a particularly outrageous story from his recent fight. Theodore threw his head back and laughed. It was clear to anyone how close those two boys were, drunk or sober.

"Can you believe he actually thought I was serious?" Mattheo snickered with a big grin stretching across his face, taking a swig from his cup, the whiskey burning a warm path down his throat. "I mean, I barely managed to keep a straight face!"

Theodore laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're a menace, Riddle. One of these days, you're going to get expelled."

"Ah, but tonight isn't that night, mate," Mattheo replied with a slow wink, raising his glass in a mock toast. "To living dangerously and laughing in the face of consequences!"

They clinked their cups together, the sound barely audible over the throbbing beat of the music and you thought now was the best time to approach your boyfriend.

Mattheo's brown irises scanned the crowd, catching a look of you as you pushed your way through the crowd of dancing bodies. The sight of you instantly brightened his expression and a genuine smile spread across his face. He felt a rush of emotions that the whiskey in his hand only intensified, each beat of his heart echoing with the certainty that what he held for you was pure love. The Slytherin straightened up, his posture shifting from the casual slouch of a carefree boy to the attentive stance of a man. Theodore noticed the change and a knowing smirk made its appearance on his lips as he stepped aside, giving the two of you a moment of privacy.

"[Name]," your boyfriend called out, his voice full of warmth. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you came closer. "There you are, love."

You beamed up at him, your eyes reflecting the party's enchanted lights, making them look like twin stars. "Having fun, are we?" you teased and the tone of your voice carried a playful match that always managed to make his heart skip a beat.

"Only now that you're here," he replied. The world around you seemed to blur as he gazed down at you, all the noise and chaos fading into the background. "You make everything better."

Drunk on both the whiskey and his overwhelming affection, the boy's usual reservations melted away. He held you close, his hands resting on your waist as if anchoring himself to your presence. When he was sober or feeling down at heart, his love for you was often hidden beneath layers of stoicism and insecurity, but now, in this moment of happy drunkenness, it shone through.

He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips, enjoying the sweetness of the contact. "I'm so lucky to have you," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't deserve you, but I'm going to spend every day trying to be worthy of your love."

“You have no idea what you mean to me. I look at you and . . . it’s like you’re the sun and I’m just a planet orbiting around you, soaking up your light,” he continued without a break. The boy wanted to get every one of his words out as fast as humanly possible. To show you his hidden feelings he wasn't able to tell you before. “You’re my everything, [Name]. I don’t know how I got so lucky. You’re so kind, so . . . good. And me? I’m just . . . I’m a mess, you know? A monster sometimes.”

You shook your head lightly and took his hands into your own, enveloping him with your warmth. He was starting to get emotional, and you didn't need to have your boyfriend drunkenly mopping around. His mood changed like weather when alcohol got involved. “You’re not a monster, Mattheo. You’re human. We all have our demons.”

“But you,” he didn't allow you to finish your sentence before he spoke up again, his voice raw with sincerity, “you make me want to be better. For you. I see you, and I just want to be the man you deserve. I’m not always good at it, but I try. I try because you’re worth it.”

You could see the glazed look in his eyes as he swayed slightly on the spot. He was rough around the edges, you couldn't deny the truth, but he was the sweetest boy when he managed to fall in love. Which wasn't exactly difficult, Mattheo fell in love easily. But when he did, it was worth everything. Mattheo was your sweet boy. “Love,” you said softly to him, your voice filled with gentle concern to the brim, “you’ve had a bit too much to drink. Maybe it’s time to slow down a little, okay?”

Mattheo blinked, giving you a lopsided grin, his expression a mix of boyish charm and pure happiness. “But I’m fine, [nickname]. I feel great. Better than great, actually. With you here, everything’s perfect.”

“I know you’re having a good time, but I don’t want you to feel terrible tomorrow. Let’s take a break from the firewhisky for now, alright?”

He pouted slightly, his shoulders slumping as he realized you were actually serious. “You’re probably right,” he admitted, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “But only because you’re asking me.” You chuckled softly at his behavior, threading your fingers through his and gently leading him away from the dancing crowd. You navigated through the common room, moving towards a quieter corner of the space where a plush couch sat, inviting you both in with open arms. The room’s enchantments cast soft shadows on the walls, the flickering lights creating a soothing atmosphere.

“Here, sit down,” you instructed as you guided him to sit on the couch. Mattheo obeyed, sinking into the cushions with a contented sigh. You sat beside him, your hand never leaving his. You took the half-empty cup of whiskey from his hold, reaching for a glass of water on the table nearby instead and handing it to him. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Mattheo took the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. He took a long sip, the cool water a welcome relief from the heat of the alcohol he consumed. “You really do take good care of me, don’t you?” he murmured, his head resting against the back of the couch as he looked at you with a mixture of admiration and exhaustion.

“Someone has to,” you replied playfully, brushing a stray curl of hair from his forehead. “And I wouldn’t want anyone else to have the job.”

As the night wore on, Mattheo felt a warmth spreading through him that was only partly due to the whiskey. It was the warmth of belonging, of being surrounded by friends who understood and accepted him, flaws and all. Despite his often rough exterior, he was deeply grateful for these moments, these stolen hours of joy in the corners of the Slytherin common room.

02 - THE MARK

The past has a profound power to shape a man, especially when that past is influenced by suffering at the hands of a father.

For Mattheo Riddle, his family history was the darkest shadow of all the shadows that clung to him, a reminder of the pain and fear that had molded his entire life. Raised in a home devoid of warmth, where love was a foreign concept and cruelty was a daily reality, Mattheo had learned to build tall and thick walls around his heart. A shield to protect him from more hurt that would come his way.

The orphanage was a harsh place, stripped of the luxuries the boy had unknowingly been born into. It was a world of strict discipline and a poor form of affection. The caretakers, overwhelmed and underfunded, had little patience for a child with such a notorious legacy. Mattheo grew up under the weight of whispers and sideways glances, the infamous name "Riddle" ensuring he was never just another child. The women of the orphanage knew his father, having taken care of him when he was around the same age as his son. What a wicked child Tom was. Mattheo was different because of that, marked, and this awareness shaped his formative years in ways he could barely comprehend.

As he grew older, the whispers about his family name became more pronounced. The children at the orphanage were cruel. “Monster,” they called him, creating the very fears that nested within his own heart. He began to internalize these taunts, seeing himself through the lens of his father's sins. The idea that he could be worthy of love seemed more and more distant, more of a fantasy that had no place in his reality. But the same idea of letting someone see past his defenses, of allowing someone to love him despite his flaws, seemed not only impossible but dangerous. For how could anyone love a monster, especially one crafted by his own father?

Despite this, Mattheo yearned for something more. He longed for the kind of love he had never known, a love that was gentle and kind, that saw past his scars and accepted him for who he was. But every time he felt himself getting close to someone, the fear surged up, a wave of doubt and self-loathing washed over him and forced him to retreat behind his walls again. It was a never-ending cycle.

Hogwarts had saved him.

Mattheo Riddle’s first steps into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were met with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and apprehension. For the other students, he was a figure of whispered rumors, his infamous last name carrying with it a weight of fear and fascination. They had heard the stories of his father’s dark acts, of the legacy that haunted the halls of the castle like a ghost. But for Mattheo himself, Hogwarts represented a new beginning, a chance to escape the personal hell he called the orphanage and create his own path. The boy was no longer just another orphan. Here, he could be anything he wanted to be.

He wasn't deaf. The young boy could feel the weight of his father’s name bearing down on him like an invisible burden. And he wasn't blind either. He saw the way the other students looked at him, their eyes flickering with a mixture of fear and suspicion. They didn’t openly taunt him as the children in the orphanage had done, but he could sense the whispers and the wary glances that followed him wherever he went. For Mattheo, however, their fear was a source of power. He reveled in the attention, in the way his presence commanded respect, even if it was tinged with fear. He was finally someone.

He excelled in his classes, his natural talent and restless ambition setting him apart from his peers. But it was on the Quidditch pitch that Mattheo truly came into his own. Flying high above the castle grounds, he felt a sense of freedom unlike anything he had ever known. With every twist and turn of his broomstick, he left behind the weight of his past and embraced the thrill of the present, making him feel like a bird.

Six years had passed since Mattheo Riddle first walked through the grand doors of Hogwarts, a hopeful and determined young wizard with dreams of greatness he was so sure he'd achieve. But now, as he entered his sixth year at the renowned school of magic, the world around him had shifted irrevocably. The return of Lord Voldemort two years prior had plunged the wizarding world into chaos, and with it, Mattheo’s life had been destroyed once again.

Even among his fellow Slytherins, Mattheo felt like an outsider, a traitor to his own house and everything it stood for. He had once prided himself on his ambition and cunning, on his unwavering determination to succeed at any cost. But it didn't matter anymore.

Mattheo sat alone in the quiet atmosphere of the Astronomy Tower, his gaze fixed on the night sky that sparkled with millions of stars. Each twinkling light seemed to mock him, making fun of the darkness that now stained his soul even more than before. His fingers gripped the sleeve of his jacket tightly, as if seeking some comfort in the fabric, but finding none.

On his left forearm, the Dark Mark burned like a brand upon his skin. It was a mark of shame, of betrayal, and every time he looked upon it, he felt a sickening sense of disgust and self-loathing. He had thought that by aligning himself with the Dark Lord, his father, he would finally be able to escape the shadows of his past, to prove himself worthy of the name Riddle and his father's presence. But now, he realized that he had only succeeded in plunging himself deeper into the deep hole. Even the orphanage was better than this.

The footsteps behind him shattered the sweet silence, echoing off the stone walls of the tower. Mattheo tensed, his heart racing as he turned to face the intruder, steeling himself for whatever judgment or punishment awaited him. But as he turned, he was met not with the accusing glare of Filch or the triumphant sneer of a rival, but with the concerned gaze of a familiar face. It was you, with your eyes filled with worry as you approached him slowly, as if he'd disappear if you were a bit louder.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Are you alright?”

No, he wasn't alright. But he would be caught dead sooner than having you worry about him like that and more.

He forced a tight-lipped smile, attempting to mask the emotions raging within him. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining the facade. “Just . . . thinking.”

You stepped closer, taking a seat on the ground beside him. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Mattheo. I know something’s been troubling you lately. You can talk to me.”

You were his angel, full of that purity and light he adored about you in a world darkened by his own sins. He longed to confide in you, to unburden himself of the guilt and shame that had consumed him since he had received the Dark Mark. But the fear of your rejection, of you seeing him for the monster he believed himself to be, held him back. It would shatter his heart, to see the pained expression on your face.

“I . . .” he began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the words, "there's something I need to show you." With a heavy heart and trembling hands, Mattheo finally mustered the courage to reveal the truth to you. For months, he had carried the burden of the dark secret alone, pushing you out and shutting you down in an attempt to shield and protect you from the darkness that was his father. But now, as he sat before you, his heart and his soul laid bare, he knew that he could no longer hide from the truth. The boy reached for the sleeve of his jacket, his fingers fumbling as he pushed the fabric up to reveal the twisted lines of the Dark Mark etched upon his skin. The sight of it made him recoil, a wave of shame washing over him as he exposed his deepest, darkest secret to the one person he had sworn to protect.

Your eyes widened in shock as you took in the mark, your palm flying to your mouth in disbelief. For a long moment, there was silence between the two of you, broken only by the sound of your shallow breathing and the distant hum of the night owls.

“I received this a few weeks ago," Mattheo confessed, his eyes avoiding yours. "When he decided I was good enough for him."

He felt your gaze on him, eyes searching his face for answers. He could see the confusion and concern written in your expression, but beneath it all, he saw something else - a flicker of understanding and acceptance that filled him with both hope and fear. How can someone be so good to someone like him? "I've been living with the Malfoys ever since," he continued, the words tumbling out in a rush as he struggled to explain himself. "But it's not what you think, [Name]. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be a part of his plans, to be branded as one of his followers. But I had no choice. He made me do it."

Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke, and he felt a desperate plea for forgiveness in his chest. He needed you to understand, to see past the mistakes that consumed him and into the depths of his soul where his love for you burned bright and true. The thought of losing you hurt him more than the Cruciatus curse ever could.

“Forgive me. For shutting you out, for pushing you away. I was scared, I was ashamed . . . but I can't bear to keep this secret from you any longer. You deserve to know the truth, even if it means losing you forever."

Your heart swelled with a bittersweet mixture of sorrow as you gazed upon Mattheo, your sweet boy, sitting there before you with tears in his eyes and the weight of the world upon his shoulders. In that moment, all you wanted was to wrap him in your arms and shield him from the pain and darkness that threatened to consume him. With shaky hands, you reached out to him, fingers brushing against the mark of his father's followers etched upon his skin. The sight of it filled you with a fit of fierce anger, but beneath it all, you saw the boy you so dearly loved - a boy who had been shaped by his past but who was so much more than the picture of his scars.

"Love," you whispered into the dark, taking his face into your hands and wiping away those tears that managed to escape his control, "there's nothing to forgive. Nothing in this world could ever tear us apart, not even your father or that mark."

In that moment, Mattheo knew that he would do anything for you, that he would move heaven and earth to ensure your happiness and safety. You were his light in the darkness, his angel in a world filled with demons, and he would cherish that for the time being his heart swelled at the thought of you. You were simply too sweet for him and you knew that Mattheo’s struggles were far from over, but for tonight, that was enough.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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Smile Like You Mean It 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, humiliation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

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

Characters: Colin Shea, Rafe Cameron (Professor AU)

Summary: you’re trying to grow up but you keep getting pushed back down.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

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

Your new dress isn’t quite new. Yet, it’s better than anything you brought from home. You can’t afford the designer looks but you found a nice dupe. You think. There was a tiktok of a similar outfit, though your vans don’t quite compliment the look. Well, how many people are going to be looking at your feet. Or looking at you.

It’s too bad your new friend, Ash, had to rush off to get her books. You could have used the moral support and yet, it’s a bit too early to be inviting her places, isn’t it? And to think of it, Colin invited you, not anyone else.

You check your phone as you walk across campus. Your tights do little against the cold and make your thighs itch. You clutch the strap of your purse, the fringe swaying with each step.

You hear the party before you get to it. As you walk up, the windows glow against the backdrop of the evening and tiki torches are lit to light the folding tables of red cups and chips and other things. Some bounce balls into the cups as the guests already there cluster around and chatter at a blustering volume.

You shrink at the precipice of the walk that divides the grass. Music pumps from within, churning in the air with the garbling voices. The front door is wide open as people come and go. You’re nearly knocked off your feet as two guys in the blue jackets brush past you.

You exhale and make yourself go forward. You grip your phone tight and look down at the screen. You should text Colin and figure out where he is. You’re distracted from sending the message as you pass a girl being crushed by a guy against the siding.

They make out sloppily, the girl seemingly helpless to his affections as he pens her in. She has her hands on his chest as he clamps her head tight. She wears corduroy skirt and puffy blouse. It’s not exactly cutting edge.

You peek at the other guests. You prepared for tall blondes and gorgeous brunettes. All the other girls are pretty and yet they aren’t the lululemon, PSL-guzzling coeds you marvel at. They’re just like you...

“Aubby!” The voice booms like thunder and centers your anxiety.

You look at Colin with wide eyes as he approaches. Oh my. He’s wearing his jacket but no shirt under it. There are blue emblems painted on his buff chest. Your eyes skim the lines of his tight muscles.

“There you are, baby doll,” he nears and drapes his arm across your shoulder. “You get a drink? You need a drink.”

You let him take over easily. Your voice remains elusive.

“See, I love that about you, Auburn. You’re so gentle and quiet. You let a man take control. Just the way it should be,” he squeezes you against him. “Fuck, I’m all over the place. Did I tell you that dress is hot as hell?”

You look down and hug yourself. You don’t know that anyone ever complimented your clothes. There wasn’t really anything to like about them. Or you.

“Let me give you a lay of the land...” he declares as he grabs a red cup from another table and hands it to you. You accept it as he claims on for himself.

He walks you through the house, yapping about the fraternity and how they have pledges serving the drinks. You notice they don’t have jackets and are dressed in tight spandex shorts and feather boas. You try not to stare.

You taste the beer. You don’t drink. You never saw the need for it. You always overheard the girls in English talking about getting lit and waking up face down but you were never in with them, and that didn’t really sound too fun.

“Eh, there he is,” Colin booms and makes you flinch. “Rafe,” he lets you go to the dab up the other guy. He’s a bit more slender than Colin, his hair is longer and floppy, and his eyes look a bit sleepy. “Aubby, this is the best guy in the place. Rafe, this is Auburn... my date.”

Date? Your eyes flicker. Is that what this is?

“Uh... hi,” you force out and nearly cough.

Rafe’s brows tilt and he looks at Colin, “she’s quiet,” the latter says.

“Cute,” the other replies as he gives you a look up and down. “I been making the rounds. Making sure everyone’s cozy.”

“Right, right,” Colin says.

“Good turn out,” Rafe says. “Thing will get going soon.”

“Sure, well, see ya round, we’re going to try to catch up,” Colin raises his cup and drains it. He turns you past Rafe and presses on. He swallows a belch, “hey, you need another?”

You look down at your cup. You’ve barely had any. You shake your head.

“Ah, babe, no problem. You take your time. Lots of beer to go around,” he assures you and waves his cup in the air. A pledge appears to switch it out. You’re embarrassed at all the nakedness.

“How about we find somewhere quiet? Lots going on, right?”

You nod. He directs you around a cluster of guys and girls. You get to the stairs and climb with him. He clings to your hand as he drags you down the hall and into a bedroom. He shuts the door and you’re relieved to have the cacophony blocked out. Then all at once, you’re nervous at the reality of being alone with him.

“I really mean it, that dress looks good on you,” he lets you go and faces you as he bites his thumb, “you got a nice body.”

You push your legs together and cradle your hot cheek. You slurp the beer before you squeak out a thank you. He smiles.

“Come on,” he goes to the bed and hops on it. He sits against the head board and slaps the space next to him. You hesitate. “No funny business. I been on my feet all day. That’s it.”

“Oh, okay,” you murmur.

You go to the bed and climb up next to him. You put one leg over the other as you extend them and he wraps his arm around your shoulder once more. He pulls himself closer. He takes a drink then puts his cup on the table at his other side.

“Are you a freshman?” He asks. You nod. “Ah, makes sense. Well, that makes you special. Freshman don’t often get in at Delta.”

“Really,” you say behind the brim of the cup.

“Well, baby, I knew you were special when I saw you,” he trails his fingers along your thigh and you twitch in surprise.

“Special?”

“Yeah, you’re not like other girls. You’re just you. I like that.” He purrs as his other hand rubs your shoulder. “And you’re pretty as all hell.”

You stare at him, burning to the core. You’ve never been this close to a guy. Never had them being so touchy or sweet. It’s overwhelming.

“I’m sorry to be a fucking simp but can I kiss you?” He rasps, “I been thinking of it all day.”

“Kiss?” You echo. “Umm...”

He gently retracts his hand and grips the cup in your hand. He dislodges it and reaches to set it with his. He turns you again and caresses your cheek.

“Just a kiss, babe? Please?”

You stare at him. You are on fire. You can’t speak. Not enough to say no. So, you nod.

Today has been a day of firsts. Your first friend, your first kiss. It’s the first day of an amazing year, you can feel it.

#colin shea #rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #dark colin shea #dark!colin shea #colin shea x reader #series #drabble #rafe cameron x reader #smile like you mean it #the outer banks #obx #what's your number?#au #professor au

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amethystarachnid · 4 months ago

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MUTANT BODYGUARD - part III

⤷ JAMES LOGAN HOWLETT

ᯓ★ Pairing: James Logan Howlett x fem!reader

ᯓ★ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff and spicy (I mean, it's Logan...)

ᯓ★ Story type: short story

ᯓ★ Word count: 8.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: Your life with Logan was going just fine, but fine doesn't last long in celebrities' world: first rumors of a break up, then of him having an affair, Logan can't stand to see you so upset and decides to take matter into his own hands with a livestream.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of cheating

ᯓ★ Timeline: doesn't follow a timeline in the x-men movies

ᯓ★ Request: I would love to read more of this. Can you imagine Logan's reaction if the tabloids spread crazy rumors of a breakup or an affair like they do to celebrities all of the time (especially if it's about him). He'd be so confused and probably annoyed if the reader teased him about it (@needz1nk)

ᯓ★ From: Marvel Bingo, Bodyguard romance x Age Gap

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier lover click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn't my first language and this isn’t proof read

In the weeks following the premiere and the much-talked-about bathroom incident, the media whirlwind surrounding you and Logan only intensified. What started as a curious whisper in celebrity news quickly exploded into a full-blown frenzy, with headlines splashing your relationship across screens and magazine covers everywhere. The story of an A-list actress and her bodyguard falling in love had the public hooked, and as the details trickled out, interest only grew. Some saw it as the ultimate fairytale romance; others found reasons to criticize. But the one thing that everyone seemed to agree on was that they couldn't look away.

To your surprise, the publicity sparked an unexpected wave of support from fans, old and new. Overnight, you gained a whole new group of followers who adored the idea of a love story that defied Hollywood norms. Your existing fans were thrilled to see a new side of you, one that was raw and authentic, and they rallied around you, excited to see you so visibly happy. They shared clips from interviews, fan edits of you and Logan on the red carpet, and screenshots from the infamous bathroom encounter. The comments flooded your social media: "Finally! She's found someone who treats her like a queen!" "They are SO cute together, I’m obsessed!" "This is real love. Logan’s the best thing to happen to her!" These fans painted your timeline with heart emojis, hashtags about true love, and affirmations that they’d “ship” you and Logan forever.

But it wasn’t just your fans who were excited; Logan found himself with an entirely new fan base of his own. Almost overnight, he was propelled from being a low-key presence in your life to a reluctant but undeniable celebrity in his own right. Fan pages popped up dedicated entirely to him, featuring candid photos of Logan at events, his brooding glances at premieres, and, most frequently, the rare, disarming smile that he would flash only at you. Girls who had likely never noticed Logan’s existence before were now obsessing over his rugged looks and quiet confidence. They analyzed his style, dissected his every movement, and swapped theories about his background. Despite his straightforward nature, Logan was an enigma to them, a new kind of celebrity who neither wanted the fame nor cared about the public adulation. The mystery only added to his appeal.

Social media was brimming with Logan-related content, much of it filled with admiration and even longing. Comments like, “If I can’t have a man like Logan, what’s the point?” and “Forget actors—I want a real man like him!” filled his unofficial fan pages. People shared photoshopped images of themselves with him, fan fiction imagining scenarios where they were in your place, and “Logan appreciation” threads discussing every aspect of his appeal. Some even went so far as to analyze the subtle possessiveness he had towards you, swooning over how protective he seemed. To many, he was the embodiment of an old-school romance hero, a modern knight who had swept in to protect and claim his woman in a world where that felt rare.

But as with anything that reached this level of fame, not all of the attention was positive. Alongside the supportive comments and fan accounts, there were plenty of harsh, critical voices determined to tear you down. Many people were quick to question what a successful actress like you was doing with someone like Logan, a bodyguard whose life had previously been so removed from the glitz of Hollywood. They called you names, some implying that your relationship was a publicity stunt, a bid for attention rather than a genuine connection. Others criticized Logan, saying he was just another “bodyguard boyfriend” trying to capitalize on your fame and insinuating that he was only with you for personal gain.

The hate was worst on social media, where anonymity often emboldened people to say things they wouldn’t dare voice in person. Comments like “What does she even see in him?” or “She’s just desperate for attention” littered your posts. Some were even more malicious, accusing you of “using Logan to stay relevant” or “replacing real talent with a guy she pays to protect her.” A few particularly harsh ones left a bitter taste in your mouth, claiming things like, “He’s way too good for her. She’ll chew him up and spit him out like every other guy.” Or, “This relationship won’t last—she’ll move on when something better comes along.”

As more and more of these comments appeared, you found yourself drawn to reading them, almost obsessively. Logan noticed, of course. He was perceptive enough to catch the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you looked at your phone, and he’d quietly reach over, pulling you close or brushing his hand along your back, grounding you in the simplicity of his presence. He didn't bother with comments himself, brushing them off like flies, reminding you time and again that the opinions of strangers meant nothing to him. But for you, it was harder to ignore. You were used to some degree of online criticism as an actress, but this—people questioning your worth as a person, as Logan’s partner—felt different. More personal.

Logan’s attitude was almost infuriating in its calm. "Why are you letting this get to you?" he’d ask in his straightforward way, his tone gruff yet gentle as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. "We know what’s real here. We know us." And, for the most part, you tried to hold onto that—his certainty in the face of so much noise. But as the relationship continued to grow in the public eye, so did the backlash, and it felt relentless.

One evening, after a particularly long day filled with work obligations and negative comments online, you finally snapped. You were sitting on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through the endless barrage of insults, unable to look away. “I just don’t get it, Logan,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration. “Why do people hate that we’re together? Why does it matter so much to them?”

Logan took a seat beside you, his arm draped over the back of the couch as he looked at you with that steady gaze. “Because it’s easier for them to tear down what they don’t understand. They don’t know us—they only know what they see through a screen. And that’s their problem, not ours.”

He took the phone from your hand, setting it aside. “Let them talk,” he said simply, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “We don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not them, not the press, no one.”

You looked into his eyes, and something inside you calmed. There, in his gaze, you saw a reminder of why this was worth it—why he was worth it. Logan’s love was fierce, unwavering, unbothered by the noise of the outside world. His grip on you was steady, grounding, reminding you that while the world might be relentless in its opinions, your relationship was a world in itself, untouched by the chaos outside.

In the following weeks, you began to focus more on the people who supported you, on those who cheered you on. Fan art, letters, and messages poured in from people who felt inspired by your relationship. There were stories from fans who saw your romance as proof that love could be found in unexpected places, that there were still people in the world who loved fully, openly, and without pretense. You shared little glimpses of your life with Logan—a cozy coffee date, a lazy Sunday spent reading together, the way he cooked you breakfast, often burning the toast but always insisting on making it himself.

The support grew, and eventually, it drowned out the negativity. You learned to scroll past the hateful comments, ignoring them in favor of the warm messages of encouragement and love. Fans sent you photos of their own relationships, shared stories of how they met their partners, and thanked you for showing a love story that felt real and grounded. You and Logan became symbols of something rare, a reminder that even in the glamorous world of Hollywood, love could be simple, honest, and unbreakable.

And though Logan still brushed off his fame with a gruff indifference, even he couldn’t ignore the sheer number of fans who now adored him. He’d laugh and shake his head at the fan edits, the swooning comments, and the declarations of love from girls around the world. It was amusing to him, in a way, but he never let it distract from what mattered most to him—you.

On one of the quieter nights, after the frenzy had calmed a bit and life had settled into a new rhythm, Logan pulled you into his arms, his gaze soft and tender. “They can say what they want,” he murmured, his thumb tracing gentle patterns along your hand. “I don’t care about the fans, the reporters, the hate. I care about you. Just you.”

In that moment, you knew that nothing could shake the foundation you had built together. You’d face the public scrutiny, the fan obsessions, and the media circus as long as you had Logan by your side. His love was your safe haven, an anchor in the storm. No matter what the world threw your way, you’d face it together, knowing that what you had was stronger than any headline, truer than any rumor, and more resilient than the relentless opinions of the world outside. And with that knowledge, you finally felt at peace.

But peace never lasts long.

The morning sunlight streamed softly through the blinds, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. You blinked awake, still heavy with sleep, finding yourself entangled with Logan, both of you cocooned in the soft sheets, the remnants of the previous night still lingering in the gentle aches and comfortable mess you lay in. Logan was tucked against you, his face nestled against your chest, arms wrapped securely around your waist. It was one of those rare, quiet moments where his usual stoic, protective demeanor softened completely, replaced with something vulnerable and at peace.

You reached up, gently running your fingers through his messy hair, savoring the way he leaned into your touch, almost nuzzling closer with a content sigh. He was still half-asleep, his breathing steady and deep, and you took a quiet moment to simply enjoy the closeness, the peaceful warmth of his body pressed to yours.

Trying not to disturb him, you carefully reached over to the nightstand for your phone, scrolling through notifications and messages that had piled up overnight. A headline immediately caught your eye, its bold letters practically screaming back at you: “Hollywood It-Couple Split? Inside Sources Say Y/N and Logan Call It Quits.” Your mouth twisted in frustration as you read the so-called “insider scoop,” filled with baseless claims and invented reasons for your supposed breakup. There were even theories about a “rising actor” who had “come between you,” speculating wildly about drama that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

The words clawed at you, stirring irritation—but then you looked down at Logan, blissfully unaware, relaxed and vulnerable in a way only you ever saw. A mischievous idea sparked, and you carefully angled your phone to capture the scene, framing his face nestled against you, his arm looped around your waist, both of you tangled together beneath the sheets. You barely stifled a laugh, sure that Logan would have rolled his eyes if he were awake.

After double-checking the photo, you typed out a quick caption: Woke up to some…interesting headlines this morning. We’re fine, thanks. Adding a winking emoji, you hit Post and set your phone aside, the grin still playing on your lips.

The post took off almost instantly, notifications flooding in as fans and friends alike chimed in. Most comments were thrilled reactions, with fans sending heart emojis and playfully chiding the tabloids for trying to mess with “the ultimate couple.” Others were friends and fellow actors tagging Logan, with messages like “Better watch out—she’s got the receipts!”

As the notifications rolled in, Logan stirred, blinking awake and looking up at you, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep, as he stretched and tightened his arm around you. His eyes shifted to your phone, catching a glimpse of the notifications lighting up the screen. “What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, barely holding back a laugh as you handed him the phone. “Just correcting a few tabloid rumors.”

He squinted at the screen, his expression shifting from confusion to a smirk as he took in the post. “So…we’ve broken up, huh?” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Didn’t realize that’s how I spent my night.”

You snorted, shaking your head as he looked back at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Guess they think I dumped you or something,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. “But, you know, I figured I’d let them know I’m still kind of attached.”

He let out a soft chuckle, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your lips. “Good. Maybe now they’ll back off.” He nestled closer, resting his head back against your chest, his hand finding yours beneath the sheets. His thumb traced gentle circles on your skin, and he took a long, contented breath, settling back down beside you. “But if they keep it up…maybe I’ll give them a real reason to talk.”

You laughed, the two of you lingering in the warmth of each other and the morning, the world and its noise fading completely into the background.

The decision to go public that day felt more like a playful challenge than a chore. After the tabloid drama and breakup rumors, you and Logan wanted to make a statement—and what better way than a casual, romantic date in broad daylight? The plan was to keep it simple: a quiet brunch in one of the city’s more charming cafés, followed by a relaxed walk through a nearby park. It was your kind of day, one that would be easygoing… at least in theory.

As you strolled into the café, Logan’s hand resting firmly on your waist, you couldn’t help but feel a slight thrill at the curious glances that people threw your way. Some recognized you immediately, eyes widening as they connected the dots, their gazes shifting from you to Logan. There was something invigorating about the excitement, the quiet murmur of onlookers exchanging theories and tidbits of information about you two. Logan, however, seemed undeterred. He wore that calm, collected expression, the slightest smirk on his lips as he leaned down to ask, “Are you sure about this?”

You laughed, giving him a quick nudge with your shoulder. “Just relax. If we don’t play into it, maybe the rumors will die down, and everyone can go back to wondering who the next big rom-com couple is.”

Logan chuckled softly, but the humor didn’t mask the possessiveness in his gaze as he looked at you. “Let them look,” he muttered, his voice low and more serious than before. “They’ll get the message.”

You ordered your coffee and pastries, taking a seat by the large window, where sunlight poured in and gave the whole scene a warm glow. Logan stretched an arm along the back of your chair, his fingers tracing idle circles on your shoulder. You leaned into him, savoring the intimacy. His touch was protective, almost territorial, a statement to anyone paying attention. And given the covert snaps you noticed from a couple of phones nearby, people were most definitely paying attention.

As you sipped your coffee, you felt the heat of his gaze on you, and when you looked up, his eyes were smoldering, hinting at the simmering tension between you both. His thumb traced light patterns on your skin, a touch that seemed innocent to anyone watching, but you knew better. You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face.

“Behave,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, grinning.

“Trying to,” he murmured, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You’re making it difficult.”

Just then, a group of young fans approached your table, their excitement barely contained. “Y/N, we’re so sorry to interrupt, but could we maybe get a picture with you?” one of them asked, her voice shaking slightly as she held out her phone.

You smiled warmly and stood up, nodding. “Of course! No need to apologize. It’s great to meet you all!”

Logan remained seated, watching with a mix of pride and amusement as you interacted with them. You could feel his eyes following you, as if even this brief separation was pushing the limits of his patience. When a few other fans spotted you, they hurried over, and you ended up signing a few autographs, sharing laughs, and answering quick questions. But all the while, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Logan’s gaze—protective, possessive—burning into you.

When you finally returned to your seat, you found him leaning back, a smug grin on his face. He reached out, taking your hand in his, but instead of his usual steady grip, he laced his fingers through yours, holding you close, and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. His thumb traced along your knuckles, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and heat. “Missed you,” he murmured, his voice low.

You bit your lip, the warmth in his touch sparking a subtle thrill. “I was only gone for a minute.”

“Yeah, well, felt like longer,” he replied, his gaze slipping down to your lips. And with that, he shifted closer, so close that his arm practically enveloped you.

As you exchanged glances, you noticed movement outside the café window. A few paparazzi were hovering, cameras clicking as they angled to get the best view of you two. You suppressed a sigh, your fingers giving his a light squeeze.

Logan noticed them too, and a smirk tugged at his lips. “They’re going to have a field day,” he said, voice low, almost amused.

“Well,” you replied, leaning back in your seat and resting your hand on his leg, “let’s give them a reason to talk.”

Without hesitation, Logan slipped his arm fully around you, his fingers gently tracing up your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. He pulled you in a bit closer, his other hand finding its way to your knee, sending sparks through you. His touch felt like a secret promise, an unspoken agreement that this day would end much differently than it started.

For a while, you both stayed there, the casual intimacy you shared made even more tantalizing by the audience beyond the glass. The café staff seemed oblivious, while the other patrons either pretended not to notice or tried unsuccessfully to hide their intrigue. But Logan’s focus was solely on you, his gaze dark and hungry. When he shifted his hand slightly, trailing his thumb along your thigh, you felt your breath catch. His fingertips pressed into your leg with a subtle possessiveness, and you found yourself pressing closer to him, drawn by the warmth radiating between you.

After what felt like an eternity of heightened tension, you finally looked up at him, the simmering heat between you both almost unbearable. “Maybe we should head back?” you suggested, your voice a little breathless.

Logan’s smirk widened, and he nodded, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Good idea.”

You left the café, his hand resting on your lower back as he guided you outside. The paparazzi didn’t miss a beat, following as you both made your way down the street. Logan’s arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you closer, and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his touch protective and intimate. You felt the heat of his body against yours, the silent promise in every gentle graze of his fingers, and it made your pulse quicken.

Once you were out of the immediate view of the photographers, Logan’s pace quickened, his hand firmly grasping yours as he practically guided you through the bustling street back toward your penthouse. The urgency in his touch sent a thrill through you, and you matched his steps, the excitement building with every block closer you got.

By the time you reached the front door, he was practically pressing into you, his hands slipping to your waist as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, searing kiss. You fumbled with your keys, finally managing to open the door, and Logan wasted no time as he swept you inside, shutting it firmly behind you. His hands found your waist, drawing you close as he kissed you again, his touch heated and demanding, all traces of the earlier restraint gone.

In the elevator up to your penthouse, the air between you was charged, every glance and touch laced with unspoken desire. When the doors finally opened, he pulled you through the hallway, neither of you able to keep your hands off each other. You finally reached the bedroom, and Logan wasted no time, pressing you gently against the door as he captured your mouth in a kiss that was fierce and full of promise. His hands roamed your body, drawing out every shiver and gasp as he reminded you exactly why you were his and no one else’s.

Hours later, the two of you lay tangled in bed, your skin still warm and hearts racing. Logan’s arm was wrapped around you, holding you close as you traced lazy patterns on his chest, both of you basking in the afterglow. His fingers trailed along your back, grounding you in the quiet intimacy that followed the rush of your passion.

You looked up at him, finding his gaze soft and content as he watched you, the earlier fire replaced by a gentle warmth. “That was some date,” you murmured, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Logan chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Best one yet.” He wrapped his arm tighter around you, his hand resting on the small of your back as he held you close. “You think they got the message?”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss him, savoring the way he responded, his touch possessive yet tender. “I’d say so. But even if they didn’t, I think I did.”

Logan’s smirk softened into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he gazed at you. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

And you believed him when he told you that, maybe it was a mistake.

Logan's departure that morning had been straightforward enough, or so you thought. He’d given you a warm kiss, his hand lingering at the small of your back before he told you he had to step out for a meeting with his boss at the security company. He looked over at you with a reassuring smile, promising to be back soon, and you smiled back, content to spend a few hours on your own, catching up on your script and maybe even indulging in a bath while he was away. But as soon as the door closed behind him, you felt a pang of loneliness tug at you, surprising you with its strength.

Settling into your routine, you tried to distract yourself. The penthouse was quiet, bathed in soft, early-morning sunlight, and you could almost convince yourself to relax as you flipped through the pages of your script. But then, only half an hour after Logan left, your phone buzzed with the first notification, and then another, and another.

With a quick glance, you saw a string of messages, each one loaded with concern—or worse, nosy excitement.

“Did you see?!” “Is it true? I can’t believe it!” “Are you okay, Y/N?”

A frown creased your brow as you scrolled, your stomach sinking. It wasn’t like you to entertain rumors, especially when they came from gossipy texts and half-informed messages. But curiosity, and a rising dread, got the better of you. Taking a deep breath, you tapped on one of the links a friend had sent, dreading what you might find.

The headline blared across the screen: "Hollywood Bodyguard Logan Hunter Seen Entering Hotel of Y/N's Onscreen Rival—Secret Affair?"

You felt a pang in your chest, an ache that spread like ice through your veins. The article went on to detail how Logan was supposedly spotted entering a high-end hotel known for housing out-of-town celebrities. It even specified that just last night, the actress playing your onscreen rival had checked into that very hotel, sparking an avalanche of speculation. Photographers had apparently captured Logan, his head down, wearing his usual serious expression as he slipped through the hotel doors.

Scrolling down, you were greeted with low-quality images that only seemed to confirm what the article suggested. Your stomach twisted as you looked at each one, desperately searching for anything that might tell you it wasn’t him or that this was just some ridiculous, elaborate misunderstanding. But there was no denying the figure in the pictures, no denying his familiar stance and his unmistakable gait.

The words blurred on the screen as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You wanted to dismiss it as another fabricated rumor, but you couldn’t shake the sick feeling churning inside. Why hadn’t he mentioned meeting anyone else? And why had he gone to a hotel—especially one that you knew was currently hosting the actress you’d been cast against?

Your phone buzzed again, breaking you from your spiraling thoughts. It was a text from your best friend:

“Are you okay? I’m here if you need to talk.”

The floodgates opened, and you wiped at a tear slipping down your cheek. The logical part of you wanted to believe there was some other explanation, that this was all just some twisted coincidence, but doubt gnawed at you. How many times had you seen stories of relationships torn apart by the pressures of Hollywood, of people you thought you knew falling for someone else?

The hours ticked by slowly, each minute dragging as you paced the penthouse, your mind replaying the images of Logan entering the hotel over and over. You tried distracting yourself, tried focusing on the work in front of you, but everything felt meaningless, drowned by a painful insecurity that left you feeling hollow. Every time your phone buzzed with another notification, you felt a jolt of dread, bracing yourself for more damning evidence, more messages laced with pity or curiosity.

By the time the sky had darkened, you’d grown exhausted from waiting, from the endless battle in your mind. Just when you were beginning to think you couldn’t handle it any longer, you heard the click of the front door. Logan stepped in, looking tired but offering you that familiar smile. But one look at you, and his expression softened, worry instantly replacing the calm he’d walked in with.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle as he crossed the room toward you, brow furrowed with concern.

You swallowed, the hurt in your chest making it hard to meet his eyes. But you forced yourself to look up, forcing out the words. “Where were you today, Logan?”

He blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “I told you—I had a meeting with my boss. It was… it took a bit longer than expected.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why did I see pictures of you going into that hotel? The one where…” Your voice trailed off as you struggled to get the words out. “Where she’s staying?”

Realization dawned in his eyes, and he reached out, but you took a step back, needing space to breathe. The last thing you wanted was to let him see how deeply his absence had hurt you, but you couldn’t help the hurt and confusion that flashed across your face.

Logan’s gaze softened, his shoulders slumping as he realized the depth of your pain. “Y/N… I can explain everything. But please believe me, I would never hurt you. Never.”

His words were soft, sincere, and they tugged at your heart, urging you to believe him. But the images, the articles, and the words of everyone who’d reached out to you that day weighed heavily on your mind.

“Then tell me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Logan took a deep breath, looking down for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “I was at that hotel, yes, but it had nothing to do with her.” He took a step closer, hands raised in a calming gesture. “My boss, he’s in town for a security conference. He booked a suite there for some meetings, and that’s where we met. I didn’t even know she was staying there, Y/N. And if I had, I would’ve told you.”

Your heart ached as you listened, torn between relief and residual doubt. “But why didn’t you tell me you’d be going somewhere like that?” you asked, the words spilling out, carrying with them the vulnerability you’d tried so hard to hide.

Logan’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “I should have. You’re right. I didn’t think twice about it because it was just a meeting. But I never meant to hurt you, and I certainly didn’t mean to give you any reason to doubt us.” His thumb brushed gently along your cheek, his touch grounding you, and you closed your eyes, leaning into his palm.

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re the only one, Y/N. I don’t care who else is around, or what anyone else thinks. It’s you. Always.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but this time, it was from relief. His sincerity, the warmth in his eyes, and the quiet conviction in his voice slowly chipped away at the walls you’d built up over the course of the day. You let out a shaky breath, nodding as the tension in your shoulders began to dissolve.

“I was scared,” you admitted, the words spilling out in a whisper. “I didn’t want to believe it, but… seeing those pictures…”

Logan’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and you buried your face in his chest, letting the warmth of his embrace soothe the ache that had settled in your heart. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I never wanted to put you through that. I should’ve thought it through, should’ve told you exactly where I was.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through damp lashes, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “I guess I’ve just gotten so used to having you here, with me, that even a few hours apart feels… different.”

He smiled softly, his fingers brushing along your cheek as he gazed down at you. “And I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” His voice was steady, and you felt the weight of his words settle over you, anchoring you in a newfound sense of security.

As the evening continued, the doubt that had clouded your mind all day finally began to dissipate, replaced by the reassurance of his presence. You knew there would always be whispers, rumors, and challenges that came with dating someone in the public eye, but standing there in his arms, you realized that together, you could weather anything.

For the rest of the evening, Logan held you close, his touches soft and gentle as if to make up for the strain you’d endured. You knew that while today had shaken you, it had also strengthened your bond, reinforcing the trust that lay at the heart of your relationship.

And as you fell asleep that night, wrapped securely in his arms, you knew that no matter what headlines the world threw your way, you and Logan would face them together, grounded in a love that was real, unwavering, and stronger than any rumor.

As the gentle rise and fall of your breathing softened into an even rhythm, Logan watched you, a small smile tugging at his lips. You looked so peaceful curled up beside him, your face nestled in the crook of his arm, completely unaware of the world—and of the storm of rumors that had swirled around you all day. The day had been rougher than he’d anticipated; the flood of doubt and worry on your face when he’d walked back into the penthouse had hit him harder than he wanted to admit. And now, with you safely sleeping, he wanted to reassure you and everyone else that he wasn’t going anywhere.

As his eyes drifted toward your phone on the nightstand, an idea crossed his mind, one he hadn’t considered before. Logan wasn’t exactly tech-savvy—social media wasn’t his thing—but he had watched you do enough Instagram lives that he thought he could probably figure it out, even if he wasn’t sure why people watched them. Maybe if he said something himself, directly to the people spreading rumors, they’d get the message. He carefully leaned over, stretching for your phone without disturbing you. Punching in the familiar digits of your anniversary date, the screen unlocked, revealing your Instagram feed. The notifications were relentless: messages, comments, and tags, all seemingly tied to today’s hotel incident.

Taking a deep breath, he found the camera icon, hesitating as he checked the lighting. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of your bedside lamp, which cast a warm glow over your face as you slept soundly against his chest. He shifted the camera angle to show you snuggled against him, and after a moment of deliberation, he pressed Go Live.

The screen suddenly transformed, displaying a timer and a small notification telling him people were beginning to join the live stream. His brow furrowed as he stared at the screen, suddenly feeling a wave of nerves he wasn’t used to. Hundreds of comments began to flow in, and he squinted at them, trying to make sense of the tiny, fast-moving text.

“Alright, uh…” he began, his voice low and gruff, though he kept his volume low to avoid waking you. He fumbled for a moment, adjusting the angle so more of his face was visible, along with a glimpse of your peaceful form. “So, yeah… I’m not sure exactly how this works, but I think I’m doing it right. People are watching, right?” He squinted at the screen, realizing there were now thousands of people in the chat.

OMG, is that Logan? Is Y/N asleep?! This is so cute! What’s going on? He’s using her phone?!

“Okay, yeah, I see you guys commenting.” He cleared his throat, glancing down at you to make sure you were still fast asleep. “So… I’m here because there’s been some… well, garbage circulating today about me, and I didn’t want you—any of you—to get the wrong idea.”

He ran a hand over his face, clearly uncomfortable but determined. “Look, I’m not the kind of guy who does this ‘social media’ thing. I leave that up to her because she’s got that… influencer magic touch or whatever.” He let out a small huff, almost laughing at himself. “But there’s one thing I won’t tolerate, and that’s people thinking I’d do anything to hurt her. That’s not happening. Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever.”

The comments poured in, filled with everything from declarations of support to playful teasing:

Protective Logan is everything. Never thought I’d see this man on IG live. Logan is going OFF and I’m here for it. Who else is already recording this?

Logan sighed, glancing down at you with an unmistakable softness in his gaze. “She’s everything to me,” he said, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “I know you all see us together on red carpets or in the news or whatever, but what you don’t see is this.” He adjusted the phone so it framed you perfectly, curled up in his arms, the corners of your lips turned up in a peaceful smile. “This is her. My girl. She’s got the softest heart in the world, and today… today she was hurting because of something stupid. Something that never even happened.”

He paused, as if collecting his thoughts, then let out a breath. “People are saying I’m seeing someone else. They got pictures of me going into some hotel, and yeah, I was there, but it was for a meeting with my boss. That’s it.” He emphasized the words, his eyes narrowing as if daring anyone watching to argue. “She knows now; I explained it to her, and she trusts me. That’s what matters. But just in case any of you want to keep talking about it… remember this.”

The camera shifted slightly as he moved his hand, gently running his fingers through your hair as he looked down at you. “This is the only place I want to be. Right here, with her.”

The comments exploded.

THIS IS THE CONTENT WE DESERVE Is he really doing this while she’s sleeping? Protect them at all costs, pls. Logan, you absolute legend.

Logan squinted again at the comments, clearly struggling to keep up. “There’s… a lot of words on here,” he muttered, looking slightly flustered. “Not sure I get how you guys read all this so fast. Anyway, I just wanted to set the record straight. I’m not seeing anyone else, I’m not cheating on her, and honestly, if you keep saying it… well, I’m not gonna be happy about it. And you don’t want to see me unhappy.”

There was a beat of silence as he scratched his head, visibly uncomfortable but pushing through, clearly determined to make his point. “Look, I don’t care about fame, or fans, or what any of you say about me. I’m here for her. I want to protect her, to take care of her. If any of you really care about her too, then… then don’t buy into this nonsense. Don’t let them tear us apart with stupid rumors.”

Another wave of comments flooded in, and he leaned forward, trying to read a few.

Can we talk about how soft he looks rn? Why is this the cutest thing ever? Logan’s angry rants are kinda romantic?!

“Yeah, yeah, I see some of you making jokes,” he grumbled, though his lips twitched as he read the reactions. “Think I’m soft, huh? Well, maybe I am—maybe I am a little bit soft when it comes to her.” He looked down at you, his features softening again. “She deserves it. She deserves everything.”

He paused, scratching his head again, then sighed in defeat. “Alright, how do I turn this thing off? Seriously, does anyone know?” He squinted at the screen, tapping at random buttons and muttering to himself. “I swear, I’m gonna break this thing if it doesn’t—”

The comments came to his rescue:

Top right, Logan! Hit the ‘X’! Someone help this man before he deletes her whole profile.

“Right, thanks,” he grumbled, following the instructions. “And if any of you save this video or… or make this into some kind of meme, I’m gonna find out. Got it?”

With one final glance at you, Logan ended the livestream, letting out a long exhale as he set the phone down. He looked down at you, his heart swelling with relief and affection as he watched you sleep peacefully, blissfully unaware of the emotional monologue he’d just delivered to thousands of fans.

Unbeknownst to him, the livestream was already gaining traction, clips of his soft, protective words flooding the internet. By morning, #LoganProtectsY/N and #SoftLogan were trending, with fans dissecting every second of his heartfelt speech. They praised his loyalty, laughed at his awkward attempts at using Instagram, and swooned over the way he’d looked at you, sleeping in his arms.

But for Logan, all that mattered was knowing that he’d done everything he could to protect you. He’d cleared the air, shut down the rumors, and, hopefully, sent a message to anyone who dared question his commitment.

When you woke up hours later, snuggled in his arms, you had no idea of the viral sensation that had taken place while you slept. Logan greeted you with a quiet kiss, a content smile on his face as if nothing had happened.

It wasn’t until you reached for your phone and saw the thousands of notifications, trending hashtags, and tags of Logan’s accidental “love confession” that you looked up at him, wide-eyed and stunned.

“Logan… what did you do?” you asked, a mix of amusement and surprise in your voice.

He simply shrugged, his expression calm as he held you close. “Just told them the truth.”

It didn’t take long for Logan’s unexpected livestream to become a global sensation. In the days following, clips of his heartfelt speech continued to circulate, with fans clamoring for more of his accidental charm. The two of you were trending for days, fans flooding the comments with supportive messages, heart emojis, and endless excitement over Logan’s protectiveness and gruff sweetness. You couldn’t resist laughing when you saw the #SoftLogan hashtag popping up alongside video edits and reaction memes. And as soon as you showed Logan, his eyes rolled, but his cheeks flushed, a telltale sign that he secretly loved it.

So, when the holiday season rolled around and you suggested going live together—on purpose this time—Logan didn’t put up much of a fight. A Christmas-themed livestream, with baking and festive lights? He pretended to be indifferent, but you could tell he was secretly looking forward to it. The idea of spending the holidays together was already a dream, and now, getting to share a cozy, lighthearted moment with fans made it even better.

And so, a few days before Christmas, the two of you set up in your kitchen. The decorations were up, twinkling lights wrapping around the windows and mistletoe hung strategically above you—an idea Logan had teased you about at first but eventually grew fond of himself. The flour, sugar, butter, and other baking ingredients were all lined up on the counter as you set up your phone on a tripod.

You hit the Go Live button and waited as viewers began flooding in, the comments coming in almost immediately.

OMG they’re back together in a live! Are we getting a SoftLogan Christmas special?! Y/N, girl, blink twice if you’re safe with Logan in the kitchen! Does Logan even know how to bake?!

You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ingredients with a mix of curiosity and mild apprehension. “Alright, everyone,” you began with a grin, addressing the growing audience. “We’re going to attempt to bake Christmas cookies today. And by ‘attempt,�� I mean Logan has promised to help, even though he has very limited experience in the kitchen.”

“Limited?” Logan scoffed, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow at you. “I’m not that bad.”

“You burn toast,” you shot back, laughing. “So, yes, we’re going to attempt baking Christmas cookies, and I can already tell this is going to be… interesting.”

The comments were rolling in faster than you could read them:

Logan is definitely the guy who thinks ‘preheating’ is optional. We love to see Y/N dragging him; the dynamic is everything! CAN WE PLEASE SEE LOGAN IN A SANTA APRON?!

You grinned at the last comment and nudged Logan. “The fans want to know if you’re willing to wear the Santa apron.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but you noticed the small smile on his lips. “No way am I wearing an apron with Santa on it,” he protested, but he reached for it, putting it on with exaggerated reluctance. “Only because it’s Christmas,” he muttered, the red apron looking unexpectedly charming on him.

As you got started, Logan reached for the flour, spilling an unnecessary amount onto the counter in his attempt to pour it into the mixing bowl. You couldn’t hold back your laugh as you tried to rein in his enthusiasm.

“Logan! We only need a cup of flour, not the entire bag,” you teased, wiping some of the flour off the counter.

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Can’t make cookies without flour. I’m just… being thorough.”

You shook your head, adjusting the camera slightly to catch both of you as you attempted to salvage the flour situation. Your fans were in hysterics in the comments:

We love a man who’s thorough, Y/N! Does Logan think flour is the only ingredient?! Imagine calling this thoroughness ‘baking skills.’

“Next is sugar,” you continued, holding the measuring cup out. “And we need half a cup, half, Logan. Not ‘one heaping mountain,’ just half.”

He gave you a look of pure innocence, his hand hovering over the sugar as he tried to pour it carefully. But his definition of “half” was still far more than necessary, and you bit back laughter, shaking your head. “We’re making cookies, not cement, Logan!”

Logan chuckled, a soft laugh that brought a twinkle to his eye. “Look, this is harder than it looks, alright? You just tell me what to do, and I’ll follow.”

You shot him a skeptical look but continued with the instructions, going step-by-step as he did his best to keep up. Between his overly generous measurements and your frequent corrections, the kitchen was quickly filled with laughter and playful banter.

When it came time to roll out the dough, Logan took the rolling pin in his hands, looking at it like it was an alien object. “How hard can this be?” he muttered, pressing down on the dough with way too much force, causing it to stick to the counter and flatten beyond recognition.

“Logan!” you cried out, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. “You’re supposed to be gentle with it, like… like when you’re putting your arm around me or something.”

“Oh, like that,” he said, his tone teasing. He softened his touch, rolling the dough more delicately, though it was still sticking in awkward patches. You tried to help him, guiding his hands, and by the end, the two of you were a flour-covered, laughing mess.

“Okay, now we’re going to use these cookie cutters,” you said, holding up a few shapes: a snowman, a reindeer, and a Christmas tree. “Pick your favorite.”

“Easy.” Logan grabbed the reindeer cutter, pressing it into the dough and proudly holding it up. “Reindeer cookies it is.”

The two of you cut out the rest of the shapes, arranging them on the baking sheet and finally putting them in the oven. As the cookies baked, you read through more fan comments, laughing with Logan at the endless string of humorous observations and questions.

Please tell me Logan won’t be in charge of frosting. This man is dangerously close to ruining Christmas cookies. But seriously, they look so cute together. I’m calling it now: Logan doesn’t even know how to use an oven timer.

Logan furrowed his brows at the last comment. “Wait, we need a timer?”

“Logan!” You let out a laugh, immediately setting the timer yourself. “Yes, we need a timer. Otherwise, we’ll just have burnt reindeer shapes instead of cookies.”

When the timer finally went off, you took the cookies out, laughing together over the misshapen but somehow adorable treats. The two of you set about decorating, Logan’s hands steady but not quite precise as he attempted to pipe frosting on a reindeer. The result was… less than impressive, and you both burst out laughing at his attempt.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment as the fans commented enthusiastically.

Logan’s reindeer is questionable, but we stan his effort. I’d still eat it! Best rom-com scene ever.

Finally, with the cookies decorated, you turned back to the camera, holding up a plate of your (very creatively decorated) creations. “Well, here you have it, folks. Our version of Christmas cookies! We may not be experts, but we had fun, right, Logan?”

“More fun than I expected,” he admitted, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Thanks for making me do this.”

You smiled up at him, and for a moment, you forgot all about the livestream. That was, until the comments started rolling in faster than ever:

OMG did he just look at her like that?! THE SOFT LOOK, I CAN’T. Guys, please tell me you saw that too. He’s going to propose. He has to.

Logan read the comments, his face shifting to something both nervous and determined. He glanced at you, taking a deep breath as he reached into his pocket, fingers grazing over something small and shiny. You looked at him, curious, as he took your hands in his.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice suddenly a little rough. “These last few months… they’ve been everything to me. I didn’t think I’d ever be the guy doing Christmas cookie livestreams or… any of this social media stuff. But I’d do it every day for you.”

Your heart was pounding as he knelt down on one knee, pulling a ring box from his pocket and opening it to reveal a beautiful, sparkling ring.

The comments erupted into chaos, but you barely noticed, your focus entirely on him as he held your gaze.

“I don’t know if this is the way you imagined it, but…” he smiled, that soft smile that had become your favorite. “Will you marry me?”

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You threw your arms around him, laughing through the tears as you whispered a quiet, “Yes.”

The fans went wild, and Logan chuckled, holding you close as you realized that the whole world had just witnessed your engagement. But in that moment, nothing else mattered. You were in his arms, right where you belonged. And as he slipped the ring onto your finger, both of you covered in flour and frosting, you couldn’t have imagined a more perfect, hilariously romantic proposal.

The comments from fans cheering and congratulating the two of you were endless, but Logan just looked at you, a gentle pride in his eyes as he whispered, “Merry Christmas, love.”

it's November so it's basically Christmas I don't make the rules I'm sorry, maybe at December I could start a new game where you can request any type of fanfics set in Christmas? Or something like that? let me know in the comments If you have other ideas! <3

if you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more!

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wiyu989 · 2 years ago

Text

The Queer Subtext of the CATFA Bar Scene

(Long post, alt text included)

While there are countless examples of evidence to support the idea that Steve & Bucky had romantic tension, none stick out to me quite like the bar scene in catfa

In this post, I will go over the reasons this scene is so important to their relationship

First of all, let’s talk about the heartfelt conversation the two were having prior to Peggy’s arrival. Bucky expressing his admiration for Steve’s bravery, before and after the serum, as he specifies:

This scene displays Bucky’s admiration for Steve, no matter what he looks like. One of my favorite lines.

Not to mention this totally not-subtle remark…

Now let’s talk about the painfully obvious jealousy Bucky showed while Steve and Peggy were flirting. He even started passive-aggressively “flirting” with Peggy while she and Steve were eye-fcking.

Through heteronormative eyes, this may look like Bucky’s jealous of Steve’s new status as “ladies-man”. But if you truly know their characters, you know that’s not true.

As if his jealousy wasn’t already evident enough, look at the death-stare he gives Peggy as she walks away. He is FURIOUS 😭

A new bout of evidence for the queer subtext of this scene was conjured by episode 1 of what if..? when marvel was desperately trying to force feed us steggy, they accidentally confirmed a stucky theory.

In what if, there’s a romantic scene with Steve and Peggy at a bar, and they were interrupted by bucky just before they were going to kiss… sound familiar?

Marvel has been aggressively trying to get us invested in steggy post-endgame, and has done so by attempting to erase Steve and Bucky’s relationship entirely. This is even more evident in the Disneyland adaptation of “Rogers: the musical” adapted from the Hawkeye series.

Now the last topic is, in my opinion, the most evident of Steve and buckys romantic subtext. That is, of course, the song choice of the bar scene.

Throughout the scene, the howling commandos and others can be heard singing “there is a tavern in the town”. How exactly does this confirm stucky? Well let’s look at the lyrics…

Come ON these lyrics perfectly describe buckys POV during this scene. This song choice was no accident in this essay I will 😤

There’s actually a YouTube video that points this “coincidence” out! I recommend you watch so you can see what I mean:

youtube

In conclusion? Bucky was undoubtedly in love with Steve and this scene is a certified stevebucky classic

thanks for reading <3

#stucky #it’s so painfully obvious goddamn #originally posted this on Twitter but hopefully it’ll gain more traction here lol #captain america #catfa #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stevebucky #Youtube

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ava-the-cosmic-writer101 · 7 months ago

Text

┃Deadpool & Wolverine vs. The Boys┃

parings: various actors' x teen!actress!fem!reader

warnings: none, fluff :)

summary: y/n l/n attends the premiere of 'deadpool and wolverine' & san diego: comic con!!

✧.* author's note: head to my blog to view my masterlist of my fics and also upcoming work :)) - ava ❤ *.✧

(gwendolyn or gwen is the name of y/n's character, 'mindstorm' is her other alias)

face claim: dafne keen

// SLIGHT-ISH SPOILERS FOR SEASON FOUR OF 'THE BOYS' & DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE- YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED //

liked by vancityreynolds, thehughjackman, and 7,513,296 others

(yourusername) what a night! and what a movie (i promise i'm not biased). these three gentlemen are about to blow your minds!! ❤️💛@deadpoolmovie

view all 2,847,013 comments

thehughjackman nice to see ya again tonight, kiddo! had a blast ❤️

(y/n)fan1 17 years old and already a legend ❤️‍🔥

(y/n)fan2 this is my girlfriend guys- i just wanted you to know she is my girlfriend- and i am proud of my girlfriend

vancityreynolds 3 of the most amazing, considerate, and loving people i've ever known, and then there's hugh

(y/n)fan1 LMAOOO

thehughjackman i'm telling blake 😠

(y/n)fan3 NOT RYAN BEING UNRESPONSIVE

(y/n)fan4 MOTHER

(y/n)fan5 MOTHER IS MOTHERING

karlurban lets.fucking.go ❤️👊💛

karenfukuhara so excited to go see it!! you look amazing my love 💞

toni.starr YOU BETRAYED US

(yourusername) AND I KNOW THAT YOU'LL NEVER FEEL SORRY

(y/n)fan2 FOR THE WAY I HURT

(yourusername) i have the best fucking fans 💀

blakelively MY UNOFFICAL FIFTH CHILD 😍😍

(yourusername) I LOVE YOU MOMMA 💗

(y/n)fan6 AHHH THEY ARE SO CUTE 😭😭😭

liked by thehughjackman, slevydirect, and 8,283,041 others

(yourusername) 'deapool and wolverine' is OUT NOW ❤️💛 !! i was so happy to be able to work with hughie (aka: @thehughjackman) again after six long years! thank you to this amazing cast and crew for every ounce of support you have given me while working on this outstanding, thrilling project! NOW, get your lazy assess up and go have a great fucking time at the theaters while watching @deadpoolmovie 🎥🍿🎬

view 3,286,109 comments

thehughjackman the pleasure was all mine, kiddo! it was so much fun being able to work with you again, especially as wolvie 😂😂

(yourusername) LOVE YA POPS 💟💟

slecydirect LFG!!! ❤️⚔💛

(y/n)fan7 WE KNEW YOU WERE PULLING AN "ANDREW GARFIELD" 😭😭 we are glad you are back :)

(y/n)fan8 I ACTUALLY CRIED TEARS OF JOY WHEN I SAW YOUU ON SCREEN EVEN THOUGH I KNEW YOU WERE COMING 😭

(y/n)fan1 x-23 movie?? CALL MARVEL RIGHT NOW 📞📞

jensenackles kid, what did we talk about? you can't just leave us like that and join marvel without a good-bye 🙄

(yourusername) sorry jen, but i got to meet captain america 🥺

jensenackles *plays ✨ 'my tears ricochet' ✨*

(y/n)fan9 HAHAHAHA NOT THE TAYLOR REFRENCE 💀

(y/n)fan4 DUDE THEY BETTER HAVE SOME SCENES TOGETHER IN S5 😭😭

erinelairmoriarty first off, congrats sweetness ❤️💛!! second, HOW THE HECK TO DO YOU PRETTIER EVERYTIME I SEE YOU?!?! we have to set something up soon, my love 😍

(yourusername) THANK YOU DARLING 💟 AND YES we will set something up. very soon.💛

(y/n)fan10 MAN I NEED A FRIENDSHIP LIKE THEIRS ASAP 💀

liked by jack_quaid, blakelively, and 9,624,835 others

(yourusername) thank you for your warm welcome comic con!! being able to watch the movie with you guys was so special! but now i gotta go show my love to my other very special project who is here at this convention 🤯 🤯 so for now, LFG!!! ❤️⚔💛

view 2,785,194 comments

(y/n)fan11 OH MY GOD- WAIT- TIME OUT- IS SHE TALKING ABOUT ‘THE BOYS’?!?

jessietusher OH YEAH!! LFG! ❤️💛

karlurban 👀👀

(y/n)fan8 WAIT WHAT- GUYS IT’S HAPPENING

(y/n)fan12 I WILL GET YOU THAT NECKLACE, I GOT YOU BABYGIRL!! 😏

jack_quaid YOU PLAYED THE WHOLE MOVIE?!? WITHOUT ME?!? 😡😡

(yourusername) I HAD NO CONTROL IM SORRY 😔

(y/n)fan9 I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL JACK 🥺 GETTING INTO HALL H IS SO DIFFICULT 😭😭

toni.starr congratulations, honey!! but don’t you ever forget to come back home for some REAL SUPERHEROES 😂❤️💛

(yourusername) SHHHHH!!! 🤫🤫

(y/n)fan2 WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!?

(y/n)fan13 NEW GWEN CONTENT?!? SIGN ME UP ✍️

vancityreynolds WHY WAS THOR CRYING??! 😰😰

(yourusername) i wish i knew, marvel jesus 😔

(y/n)fan5 AHH I LOVE THEIR FRIENDSHIP SO MUCH 😭

lazofficial congratulations, y/n!! ❤️💛

tomercapone congrats, ma poupée!! so excited to go see it with karen later this weekend :) NOW COME GIVE US SOME LOVE TOO 🥺

[ma poupée = my doll]

liked by karenfukuhara, karlurban, and 9,081,527 others

(yourusername) OH WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK BABY!! 💪💪 i'm so happy to be back with these crazy motherfuckers 😭 it is never a dull moment when hanging out with these guys! i'm so grateful to be back, playing gwendolyn blake is always so much fun (especially when she is such a badass 🙂). season five is going to be phenomenal and i can't wait to begin working with these silly guys again- peace out goofballs 🖖 @theboystv_ @primevideo_

view all 4,198,252 comments

vancityreynolds SOMEWHERE IN THE HAZE GOT A SENSE I'D BEEN BETRAYED 😒

(yourusername) IM SORRY MJ 🙏🙏 but i must retire my marvel gig :(

(y/n)fan14 i love how y/n's nickname for ryan is 'marvel jesus' (also- love him for that lovely taylor reference)💀

karenfukuhara YESSS I'VE MISSED MY BEST FRIEND SO MUCH 💕

(yourusername) I'M MISSED MY BESTIE SO FREAKIN' MUCH 💋

(y/n)fan2 UGHHH WHY CAN'T I HAVE A FRIENDSHIP LIKE THAT 😭 😭

karlurban good to have you back, kid 👏👏

(yourusername) awww, missed you too karli 😉🤍🤍

toni.starr i see your back from earth-616 😯. it was nice to see ya again, honey 💜💜

(yourusername) ah yes, it was a very weird vacation 🤨 but it is good to back, ant :) 💛💛

jensenackles oh my gosh, that's me ☝!!

(yourusername) oh sorry, i meant to cut you out 🙂

jensenackles 😐

karlurban 😜

erinelairmoriarty AHH IM SO HAPPY YOU'RE BACK 🥰

(yourusername) I MISSED YOU SO MUCH MY LOVE 😘😘

✧.* author's note: thank u for reading!! please feel free to request any other ideas that u would like to see ^_^ - ava ❤ *.✧

#drabbles #fiction #fluff #headcanons #writing #deadpool and wolverine #the boys

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hurtspideyparker · 23 days ago

Note

I’m sending this because I saw your post on the tags. You’re not a Tom Holland fan, you’re a Peter Parker/Spider-Man fan. You only talk about this character on your blog. You’re a Marvel stan. I doubt you can't even name more than 5 Tom projects that aren't Spider-Man movies. You’re not obssesed with him, you’re obssesed with his version of the character which is not the same as being a fan of the actor and support his career outside of one thing.

Well this is a very rude way of supporting someone who only promotes kindness and adores his work with Spider-Man.

First of all, this is a Marvel side blog. So I only post about Marvel and adjacent things on here, in my personal life and other blogs I do have other interests. I will also say I have a hyperfixation on Marvel, especially the MCU, and my favourite character since I was a child is Spider-Man. So yes, that is my favourite Tom Holland role, he is my favourite spidey, so my blog focuses on him a lot. And the thing about hyperfixations is 1. I can't control it and 2. I am literally mentally ill about him.

But I do absolutely adore Tom Holland as an actor, so I'll take this as an opportunity to gush about some of my favourite projects of his!

The Crowded Room: If someone says Tom isn't a good actor I know for a fact they've never seen this. The amount of roles he plays in this, heavy and variable, was remarkable. Switching between the accents, mannerisms, even down to the way they stand. I was in complete awe, especially when he would switch between them without cuts. I watched an interview where he said he doesn't memorize scripts completely, but he learns the characters so deeply that he knows what they'd say and do anyways. To do that in a role like this just shows how seriously he takes the art. The story in and of itself was very moving, well written, and paced beautifully. I loved all the characters and how they fit together in order to protect Danny. 10/10 would recommend, there is heavy subject matter and I cried when he was on the stand and they didn't believe he had DID (especially when the man who loved him also started doubting if Ariana was real), and then again when he said Adam was him :(

Cherry: Incredibly real story, hurt my heart that people go through this. Tom did a fantastic job being respectful of the subject matter—a veteran with PTSD who falls into drug addiction and crime to fuel it. You can see his character harden over time, and I have a crush on the version of Cherry when he was in college hehe. The way he loves Emily so intensely through it all, how reverently he treats her, and his total breakdown when she overdoses. He rather have her clean and away from him than be together in their suffering. And it has a happy ending! Ngl Tom with a mustache made me giggle, just looks so silly lol. I know he can't grow facial hair to save his life

Uncharted: While Tom is fantastic in those heavy roles and I love seeing him cry, let my boy have fun! This movie was a great action movie, and idc about all the video game nerds who says he isn't a good fit for Nathan. He might not be Nathan, but he is BORN for action babyyy. Suave, intelligent, and sweet. I know he had a lot of fun with this role and is a big fan of the game, so happy he got it! I am still hoping for a sequel because I need Tom in more action and light-hearted films

Chaos Walking: The sci-fi aspects of this are really cool, and a unique way of commentating on patriarchy. The plot twists were cool and Todd Hewitt is my sweet little feminist king. He's so funny to me, bro is trying his best, I definitely view Todd as an underdog who has all this responsibility put on him. World building and characterization was sick, wish it got a bit more love

The Devil All the Time: Okay this movie was objectively really good but SO WEIRD? I felt very discomfited after. But Tom's character was definitely my absolute favourite, what a terrible journey he goes through. Even though the movie was odd Tom made it all worth it. A genuinely good guy pushed to do terrible things because of other terrible people, like yes you get em king!!! Had me on the edge of my seat

The Impossible: The fact that this was his first film!? SO INTENSE, and yet he did fantastic. Tom Holland didn't really plan to be an actor, he truly just had greatness thrust upon him. Scooped up as Billy Elliot, then scouted as Lucas in this film. He genuinely has a natural talent for this stuff, this movie is based off a true story and seeing the devastation and little Tom covered in dirt and grieving his family that is still alive, oh gosh. Heavy but the happy ending will make you cry.

Can I also say lip sync battle as one of my fave projects? I need this man to do more dancing or at least physical work. So enamored with him and his confidence. It's interesting looking back on that video after a recent interview he spoke about how young he was and eager, but as an adult (and the adults around him at the time) being more hesitant and cautious about putting yourself in the media like that. It's been cool watching Tom mature!

Films I would not recommend as a Tom Holland fan:

How I Live Now: Tom isn't in it that much, and it was a really slow, disturbing film. I felt sad, gross, and uncomfortable watching it, just for Tom to barely be seen. Do not recommend

Edge of Winter: Also a very disturbing film. Tom was in it more, but it's mostly a slow horror film without much closure, and Tom's character isn't that interesting. Bland and uncomfortable

Now I'm not interested in his animated voice work, and I don't like period pieces, so I haven't seen those films. But if they're great enough and Tom has a good role in them pls feel free to recommend!

I just want to say you don't need to hit a quota to be a fan of someone. If you like one song, book, film... you're allowed to call yourself a fan! Gate-keeping art is not cool, and even if someone only likes one character then that sure is one fantastic character. Spider-Man is something very important to Tom; it's a big part of his career, he met his future wife through it, it changed his world to become his childhood hero. And his depiction of Spider-Man is something very special to me. It isn't just the character, it's him; the freshness, the awkwardness, the naivety he brought to Peter that Andrew and Tobey didn't choose to do. It is such a fantastic character to show off his physical skills, humour, his range from childishness to the grief and fury. You look at him in Homecoming and compare it to NWH and you see how Tom has evolved the character. I'm in awe of every thing Tom Holland does, but Spider-Man is 6 huge projects of his and to be more, which shows so much of his skill.

I also love his interviews. He's a very down to Earth, sweet, and genuine man. I think he's funny, charismatic and confident, but has fantastic work-life balance. I watched that 2 hour interview of his talking about spirituality and mental health, and seeing where he is now with Bero after his struggles with alcohol warms my heart. I wish I could have seen his Romeo & Juliet production, but in the least I think it was a nice break from the big screen for him. And best believe I was fighting for my life in comment sections for his costars—the racism was disgusting. One day that man is going to be a father and we'll never see him again, and I'll support that too. Can't wait for his Nolan film, can't believe how far he's come so quickly, and oh yes, I'm most excited for more Spider-Man films ;)

#tom holland #ask #anon #thanks for giving me an opportunity to gush about one of my FAVE ACTORS #I'm assuming you are very young but it is not okay to hate on someone when they express love or joy for something harmless.#next time try “it seems you only like his one character so id recommend these great projects!”#they probably aren't even going to see this anyway #spider man #giggles #long post

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thenatezone · 19 days ago

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Having digested the Bell's Hells finale I think I want to make some observations that, FULL DISCLOSURE, will veer into gentle criticism, but that's fine because we're all incredibly normal and mature and we'll just be cool about it.

I know that these last few episodes had to close out not just campaign 3 but presumably also this version of the show. I know the cast likes to revisit their old, iconic characters and that the constant references and connections to previous campaigns are really fun for them. But, fun as it was, I feel it came at the expense of crowding Bells Hells out of their own campaign.

I believe we have reached MCU Phase 4 (?) levels of callbacks and references to previous campaigns, which, in my opinion, M9 handled with much more restraint. Easier for the cast to do back then, you might say, with only one previous campaign and no supplemental series like EXU to weave in, but I would respond by reminding you that no one made them ratchet up the shared universe storytelling. To continue with the Marvel analogy, sometimes a Spider-Man story has pretty high stakes that might justify the X-Men or FF or Avengers showing up to help. If they're going to, fine, but you have to keep the focus on Spider-Man or you've failed to tell a Spider-Man story and you shouldn't have involved so many other heroes if they're just going to take away opportunities for his character development.

Also, with so many EXU installments and the main series only running 3 weeks a month, I thought campaign 3 really dragged compared to the others. Maybe that's because it was a lot less...vignette-y, I guess, than VM or M9? I'm guesstimating here but it felt like Bells Hells had identified the bad guys (and more or less what their plan was) about one-third into the campaign and the other two-thirds was pretty much exclusively about stopping it. Just not my preference for the pacing of a multi-year campaign.

As far as revisiting VM and M9 to give them updated endings, I found this...emotionally satisfying in the moment, let's say, but kind of narratively weak and cloyingly sentimental when considered after the fact. It reminds me (I am old) of the finale of Lost, which ends on an uplifting and feelgood scene. This emotional satisfaction lingers for a moment and then you (if you are me) realize that you will have to make your peace with the fact that the show has been promising answers to its many mysteries and will not be delivering on any of them. It's not a waste of time because you have enjoyed yourself, but you wish the show had delivered more relative to what it had promised. That's how I feel about Bells Hells.

Now I do want to note that if I had played Bells Hells as a home campaign I would have loved it! Would never have shut up about it. Would have been completely on board with the meta-references and the constant in-character arguing and planning and ethical debates that kept going in circles. Would have appreciated the players all taking big swings with their characters even if some of them weren't as successful as others. Would definitely have supported of a final session that wrapped everything up a little too neatly, because it might have been the last time our crew could play after years together and the real world had gotten so unpleasant that maybe the fantasy world could lighten up just a bit. And while it's unfair to hold Critical Role to the same standards as a scripted show when it's not, we have to acknowledge that it's also not just some friends playing DnD at home with only themselves to satisfy.

Still love the program, still love the chemistry of the cast, still can't wait to see what they do next with this last EXU and then Daggerheart. The worst day fishin' is better than the best day workin' after all, but I hope some bigger fish will be biting next time.

#critical role #cr campaign 3 #critical role spoilers #bells hells #critical role finale #cr3 #vox machina #the mighty nein

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brairslair · 1 year ago

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FEEL BETTER? ˗ˏˋ P.B.P ´ˎ˗

“all you have to do is ask”

confident!peter parker x shy!gf!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.0k

REQUESTED: no requests are open! fandoms: marvel, stranger things, harry potter (any era), scream

WARNINGS: fem reader, shit writing, established relationship, peter and reader are implied to be in college/uni, SMUT (18+), very little plot tbh, heavy praise kink, softdom!peter vibes, fingering (f!rec), very light nipple play, SUPER slight dacryphilia if u squint, peter is talkative, not proofread and written instead of sleeping, lmk if i missed smth!

A/N: is it 8am? yeah. did i just spend the last two hours writing this mess? also yeah. enjoy!

ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE 18+ remember to like, comment, and reblog to support my writing!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Six hours. That’s how long it’s been since you showed up at Peter’s front door. Six hours spent right next to him, talking to him, touching him, and yet you still find yourself longing for more. Even now as you sit between his legs, back to his chest, his hands kindly twisting at your hair, your thoughts have you squirming in your seat.

The two of you had set up this study date a few days back, anticipating the opportunity to spend time together (without sacrificing your grades). Unfortunately, you were having a hard time focusing on schoolwork.

No matter how much you tried to focus on your paper, you couldn’t stop your mind, and your eyes, from wandering. You caught yourself staring at how pretty his hands looked as he hurriedly wrote down equations, admiring how cute he looked sitting crisscross in his plaid pajama pants and science pun t-shirt, how his voice sounded just slightly deeper when he was concentrating, or how soft his lips look right now. You actually thought you were going to lose it when the praise “Good job, babe. This looks perfect!” fell casually from his lips while reading your completed assignment, sealing it with a kiss to your temple.

You felt like you were going insane, but the thing is, so was Peter. You hadn’t seen each other for nearly three weeks prior to this study date, outside of passing in the halls or a quick call before bed. Between you trying to prepare for a major presentation coming up and Peter’s multitude of responsibilities, neither of you had much energy, let alone time, left to spend on anything else.

Of course, you love everything about Peter, unconditionally. That includes his web-slinging alter ego. However, it can get a little frustrating having to go weeks on end without being able to hold a conversation with him. Especially when all people talk about is the amazing spider-man, listening to girls fawn over your boyfriend for hours a day, and feeling just as fangirl-ish. You found yourself daydreaming about him to pass the time, acting like a schoolgirl with a hopeless crush.

Seeing him again after so long with so little contact is like a wake up call for your senses. You'd been so buried in your studies that you didn’t even realize just how much you missed him until you knocked on his front door.

- “Are you okay?”

Your thoughts dissolve as Peter draws your attention back to the present. When you snap back to reality, you’re immediately reminded of what caused the spiral of daydreams to begin with. You can feel the warmth of his body behind yours, the contour of his toned chest pressing against your back. You feel your whole body heat up.

“Mhm, I’m great!” you squeak out, internally wincing at the shakiness in your voice. Your usually bright and vibrant tone is completely gone, replaced with something resembling more of a whisper than anything else.

Safe to say, Peter isn’t buying it.

His best guess is that you’re upset about something that happened today. Maybe stressed about the presentation you have coming up. He knows it sometimes takes you a while to open up, so for now, he decides to let it go. In an attempt to settle your mind, he slides a hand down your arm to lace his fingers through yours.

Unfortunately, it does the exact opposite. The innocent action leaves a trail of goosebumps behind and makes your breathing pattern pick up ever so slightly. You can only hope that Peter doesn't notice.

He does.

“Are you cold?”

You shake your head, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. “No, I’m alright.” Loosely translated, means I actually feel like I’m burning from the inside out.

“Do you not like the movie? We can change it if you want to watch something else.” he offers sweetly, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You’ve been all spacey for the past half an hour.”

Your breath hitches, feeling like you’ve been caught red handed. Of course he would notice. He may be a little oblivious sometimes, but when it comes down to it, Peter knows you better than you know yourself.

“The movie’s fine.” You struggle a bit to formulate a response, feeling your whole body heat up like a furnace. To evade the silence, you stutter out a weak, “I was just… thinking?”

You immediately want to light yourself on fire, deciding the silence would have been better.

“Thinking about what?” he asks. Not prying, just curious. “Must be something pretty important. Your heart is beating a mile a minute.” He softly laughs at his own words, causing you to shrink into yourself. He’s not laughing at you, but it definitely feels that way.

You fidget with Peter’s fingers in your palm, eyes locking on the movie as nerves wrack through your body. “It’s nothing.” You speak so quietly, he’s thankful for his enhanced hearing.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” you can practically hear the concerned furrow in his brow as he brings your still interlaced hands to his lips, leaving feather-light kisses to each knuckle. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

His patient and caring nature never fails to make you fall more and more in love with him, if that’s even possible.

Then, as if you weren’t enough of a mess, what really does it is when Peter leaves the faintest kiss to the base of your neck. A gesture meant to signal patience and understanding towards your “anxiety” only causes your thighs to squeeze together against your will, and before you can think enough to stop it, an airy, barely audible whine escapes the back of your throat, so soft it could pass as a sigh to the average ear.

Nothing about Peter is average.

He stills against your skin, causing your eyes snap open in horror as the realization hits you. Manicured hands immediately cover your face to shield you from the embarrassment.

They don’t stay long as Peter wastes no time in reaching up to gently pry your hands away. You feel like you could burst into tears at any moment from the sheer shame and frustration.

“Hey, hey-”, he holds both hands gently, rubbing sweet circles to soothe you, “No need to be embarrassed. You can talk to me.”

You don’t move your gaze from your lap.

“Come on, beautiful. Look at me.” He asks so gently that you comply before you can even think otherwise. His eyes are soft and kind, looking at you with all the love in the world. He makes you feel safe.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about? Hm?”

You blink up at him owlishly, feeling like there would be a question mark floating over your head if you looked up.

“That’s why you were all spacey? You were thinking about me…” he leans his head down, lips grazing your collarbone, “kissing you?”

Your breath catches.

"Or, maybe..." your eyes are glued as he moves his hand from your hold, delicately trailing it down your stomach, past your hip, and slowly down to the inside of your thigh. So close to where you’ve needed him for the past three weeks. “-you were thinking about me touching you?”

Your heart rate picks up by a tenfold, and Peter can hear it hammering in your chest.

Waiting for a response, he’s met with nothing but your heavy breathing. He carefully digs his fingertips into the doughy flesh of your thigh. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to touch you?”

Another airy whimper tumbles from your lips, reluctantly nodding in response to his questions, needing him too badly to care about the shame you feel at your neediness.

Peter smiles, rewarding your response by trailing his sweet kisses up your neck, taking his time to feel you shiver under his touch. His warm lips finally reach the shell of your ear.

“All you have to do is ask.”

He resumes his attack on your neck, now bolder in his movements as he licks and bites and sucks at your skin, trying to find the spot that makes your eyes flutter shut.

Caught up in the feeling of his warm mouth against your skin, you don’t even notice as he hooks your ankles over his, slowly spreading your legs wider and wider, until your skirt rides up your legs.

Peter smiles against your skin when a shaky sigh reaches his ears, your hips bucking up in sync. He’s found it. Peter focuses all of his attention on that spot, nipping and sucking at it until you’re sure he’s going to leave a mark. The hand on your thigh squeezes gently every time you move your hips, and you have to chew on your lip to stop the mortifyingly desperate sounds from spilling out.

“Is this what you had in mind, baby?” the words rumble against your skin, sending a chill down your spine, “Is this what you needed?”

Your hips buck again at that, pouting with the hope that he takes the hint. You feel your body melt into him when his tongue darts out to soothe the fresh mark he’s left on your neck.

Of course, he does get the hint, but there’s no way he’s letting you off the hook that easily.

He inches his hand higher and higher up your thigh, slipping underneath the pretty little skirt he had bought for you as a gift a few months ago. You tense in anticipation.

“What is it?” amusement evident in his tone as he asks you. He loves that he gets to be the one that makes you this needy. “Come on, baby. Tell me.”

You almost sob in frustration, not wanting to say it out loud, but the ache between your legs is becoming unbearable.

His hand barely brushes against your panties, making your chest tighten as you suppress the urge to grind into it.

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

You can’t handle it any longer.

“Please!” You all-but shout, free hand grabbing at his arm, “Please touch me, Pete!” You cry out, already sounding wrecked and he hadn’t even really done anything yet.

Peter beams at how vocal he had gotten you, leaning his head further down to meet your lips for the first time since you got here all those hours ago. It felt like drinking water after being stranded in a desert for days. You missed the way his lips felt. The way they tasted. You crave more.

Then, he mutters two words against your lips that manage to make your hazy brain short circuit.

“Good girl.”

Your groans are pathetic, being swallowed by Peter’s tongue as he rocks his palm against you through your pretty pink panties.

He can’t help but laugh a little, giddy at the sounds spilling out of you at even the lightest touch of his hand.

“Is that better?” he asks, breaking away for air. “This what you've been daydreamin' about?” He already knows what you really want, he always does, but he wants to hear you say it one more time. Just one more confirmation and he’ll give you anything you need.

Now that your mind is so clouded with pleasure, you don’t give it a second thought. “More-” you can’t barely get out a sentence between mewls, “Please, Peter, I need more-”

Before you can say another word, he’s pushing your underwear aside. Your head falls limp against Peter’s shoulder as he gathers your slick, dragging it up to finally circle your puffy clit.

Without his mouth to drown them out, your moans flow freely from you, drowning out the long-forgotten movie playing in the distance. Peter goes back to kissing your neck, deciding to mark every area of your skin that he can reach.

“I’m sorry, baby.” he soothes, nipping at the skin right under your jaw, his own heartbeat jumping at every noise he pulls from you, “Bet you’ve been achey all day, huh?”

You nod your head, barely registering his words as pleasure rolls through your body.

He lets out an almost mocking “Aww, honey…” as you buck your hips against his fingers, “Been so patient for me, huh? Waiting all day for me to make you feel good?”

“Mhm” mixed with your pants, words tumble from your mouth without a single thought to how eager you sound, “Feels so- ohhh… sososo good-”

All you can think about is the way Peters rough fingertips feel absolutely euphoric as he swirls and flicks at your clit, and how his lips sear every inch of your skin, and how his scent and his warmth consumes and takes over every thought floating around in your blissed-out head.

“You sound so pretty-” he peppers hot kisses across your shoulder, “Making so many pretty sounds…”

Peter bends his legs a little, which in turn, bends yours. The move spreads you out just a little bit more, but its enough to send little shockwaves of pleasure through you, making you jolt and gasp at the feeling.

Peter loves the way you look when you get like this. Skin sticky with heat, eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open in bliss. He thinks you looks like a goddess.

Your moans start to sound more and more like a plea, hips grinding against Peter’s fingers subconsciously as you feel the heat slowly taking over. You need more.

“Peter, pleaseee-“

“Shh, It’s okay.” his fingers glide down to your entrance, coating themselves with slick, “I’ve got you, pretty girl.”

Your eyes practically roll into your skull as he slips two fingers inside of you with ease. The stretch feels incredible, and you can’t help but squeeze the hand that's still holding yours, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Oh my god-“

Peter kisses back up until he reaches your lips again, grinning as you can barely reciprocate. The gentle nature of his kiss makes your head spin and your core clench around his fingers.

“Doing so good for me, sweetheart.”

You feel your lashes begin to collect tears at the overwhelming feeling pulsing through you. This has been building up for weeks.

“Always so good for me.”

Achey little noises spill from your lips onto Peter’s, breathing labored and heaving as the only thought filling your head is Peter Peter Peter.

Then suddenly your mind goes completely blank, gasping back a choked moan as your body goes limp, jaw slacking against Peter’s deep kisses. Your whole body feels like it's buzzing with electricity, and your head feels static in the most amazing way.

Peter pulls back for a moment to watch your face scrunch up in ecstasy, as he rubs against your spot over and over and over again. “There she is.” he coos, admittedly a little proud of himself, and you’re too fucked out to pick up on the mocking tone. He watches in awe as you start to fall apart.

“Takin’ my fingers so well, baby.”

You start to clench tighter around him, using your free hand to grip his wrist like a vice. Peter goes back to kissing your open mouth, sucking and nipping at your bottom lip as you pulse and twitch under his touch.

Panting turns back into whimpers which turns into tears as Peter massages your walls just right, hitting all the right places and stretching you out sooo perfectly.

You can feel pressure building up rapidly in your stomach, back arching up as your body starts to shake from the intensity. Peter shifts so he can watch the way your hips chase his fingers and your chest heaves for air.

“You’re so close, sweetheart. You can do it.” he praises, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge, “Almost there-“

The knot keeps winding tighter and tighter, and whiny begs and pleads start to pour out of you. Lots of “Oh my god, Pete“ or “Please” and “So good-“

Hand over yours, Peter glides your intertwined hands up your body and over your arched ribcage. He slides your hands under your his t-shirt, using his thumb to push your smaller one back and forth over your peak, a long chant of mumbled Peter’s tumble from your kiss-bitten lips.

“I know, baby, I know.” he consoles you, copying the pouty tone of your voice, “Just feels too good, huh?”

You nod your head frantically, still not catching onto the the tease, only caring about chasing your release.

He presses his lips to your ear, “Waited so long for this, honey. You deserve to feel good.”

He pumps his fingers a little bit faster.

“Gonna make you feel so good-“

You start to grind your hips up again, gasping when his palm rubs against your clit with each thrust.

“Pete-” the knot is getting tighter, “Oh my god, Peter- I’m…“ and tighter, “I’m gonna-”

“Let go for me, babe.”

Thats all you needed for your vision to go white hot, mouth falling open with a silent scream as stars dance behind your eyelids.

“There ya go”

“Just like that, pretty girl”

“Let it all out, baby”

He peppers kisses on your burning skin and slows his movements as he works you through your high. As you come down from it, your body goes limp on top of him, a lazy smile stretching on your lips. Peter can’t help but smile too, chest swelling in satisfaction that he was the one who put that smile on your face.

You wince a little as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core, eyes following as he brings them up to his lips to clean them off.

“Feel better?” this time you can definitely hear the cockiness in his tone, smacking him weakly on the arm. “Shut up.”

You turn around just enough to kiss him. This time, it’s slow, and careful, and loving, and you have to pull away and bury your face in his chest to hide the lovesick look in your eyes. Both of you burst out giggling, and Peter can't stop himself from wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you as close as possible. He’s missed you more than you could possibly ever know.

As relaxation coats you like a warm, fuzzy blanket, you shift your weight to get comfortable.

“Ah, don’t-“

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, hissing at the sudden pressure and gripping your hips to keep you still. “Can't do that...”

Now it’s his turn to get flustered.

His face goes beet red as you jump up in confusion. When you look down, you notice a painful looking bulge in his jeans. Your stomach twists with the knowledge that you did that to him.

You weren’t the only one who’s been touch deprived.

“Oh! Sorry…” you giggle a little at the accidental stimulation, looking back up at Peter with a playful smile of your own. “Your turn!”

______________________________________________________________

part 2??

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