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gothgoblinbabe · 3 months ago

Text

Love Game

[Logan Howlett x fem!reader]

Warnings: MDNI/18+ use of she/her, female reader, swearing, being referred to as a girl, mention of being a stress eater, mild alcohol consumption and mention of alcoholism kinda, jealous!Logan, mild violence, you’re shorter than Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it up), little bit of spitting, sub!logan x kinda dom!reader, voyeurism? Technically?, use of pet names, I believe that’s it but pls lmk if I missed any! ps. you wear a dress in this but if that don't work for you, imagine its a sick ass tux/ fancy attire you're comfy in

Also non cannon compliant because I know Logan is heavy as shit and his body weight would crush you but just for a minute you’re gonna pretend like it wouldn’t

Summary: essentially [this ask] with plot ! // Scott needs to mind his god damn business, but he might’ve done you a favor by snatching your diary and waving it in Logan's face.

Word Count: 8K

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“That fucking kid.”

You groaned, lifting your mattress and checking underneath and round your bed. You knew Scott was going to snatch your diary the moment you’d realized he overheard you tell Ororo where you kept it. He was always busting your balls the same way he did Logans, even insisting it was a ‘two for one’ deal when he got to bother you at the same time.

Well, he was really gonna regret messing with you this time.

“Summers! I’m going to wring your goddamn neck! Where is it?”

Your voice boomed through the open halls of the mansion as you barreled down the stairs, feet moving faster than your thoughts. Everything echoed in this place; if he was here, you know he heard you.

“Scott!”

You continued to call his name, stomping around until you locked eyes with him as you entered the kitchen. In his hands - to your abject horror - was your diary, spread open while Logan peeked over his shoulder.

Truthfully, Scott was a little scared shitless of the consequences of what he’d done. He’d dealt with Logan back and forth, sure, but you? Terrifying. You had just about the same strength as Logan and about five times his rage. That’s why his eyes grew wide when he saw you, snapping the little book shut.

You could feel your face burning. A diary was private within itself, but there were some things you’d written that were never supposed to be read by another soul; Scott and Logan’s included.

“Fucker,” you grumbled, reaching forward to grab the book from Scott’s hands until Logan snatched it, holding it above your head.

“Ah, not so fast,” he teased.

You’d gotten into plenty of squabbles with Scott, but he was absolutely going to pay for this. He knew the way you felt about Logan and you swore he got some sick satisfaction out of trying to humiliate you. He only found out because he’d overheard you confiding in Jean late one night in the living room with a pint of ice cream in your hands, yapping while you shoveled Ben and Jerrys into your mouth.

Your eyes flickered between his face and Logan’s. If looks could kill, Scott would have dropped dead the second you walked into the kitchen.

“Now what is this,” Logan asked with a lilt in his voice as his eyes scanned a page, “a whole paragraph for little ol’ me?”

Shit.

“I’ll give it back, I promise, but I gotta read this.”

If you tried, you could maybe snatch the thing from his grip before he read too much. You considered jumping on him, piggybacking until he dropped it or handed it over. What lengths would you be willing to go through to keep it a secret anyway? Was it really even a big deal?

You had a crush. Everybody does at some point. A stupid, harmless crush and if this was how he was going to find out, so be it.

You were still absolutely planning on tearing Scott from limb to limb, though.

“Huh,” Logan clicked his tongue, beginning to read from the pages, “No one knows how to piss me off like Logan.”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands.

“True,” he commented, “and he spends a ridiculous amount of time in the bathroom to do his hair.”

“Also true,” Scott chimed in, becoming the subject of your seething gaze.

“He’d save so much time if he just let me do it for him - like it would be hard to comb it into two cat ears,” he read, looking up to speak to you, “first of all, I told you they’re not cat ears.”

You simply nodded and rolled your eyes.

“Second of all, you couldn’t master ‘em anyway - I’d have to fix it myself.”

You just scoffed, leaning yourself back against the kitchen counter in an attempt to act nonchalant while you tapped one foot uncontrollably. Everything he’d read so far seemed to be the mundane stuff, nothing incriminating just yet.

“God, how I wanna…play with his hair,” he read, eyebrow quirked in confusion.

Ah, there it is.

“That’s, uh - it’s really old, I didn’t mean, like - it’s from years ago,” you tried to blabber out an excuse.

“It’s dated - it’s from a couple months ago.”

You pursed your lips, nearly biting through the flesh at the same time from the pressure. You had to get that book out of his hands.

“He’s so stubborn,” Logan continued to read with a smug grin, holding the book high when you jumped to grab it, “I wish someone would just put him in his place.”

“Ooh,” Scott chuckled, looking to you, “are you gonna be the one to do it?”

“Fuck you, Summers - I’m so gonna get you back for this,” you snarled.

“I don’t think it would take too much for him to keep his mouth shut” Logan started to read again.

You instantly recognized the part he was reading and gasped, frantically reaching again for the book.

“No, no, no, Logan, please - you don’t wanna read th-“

“I’d love to be the one to do it. I wanna take him and -”

He stopped reading and his eyes scanned the rest of the page, his amused smile faltering. You knew exactly what it was he’d read and you wanted to bury yourself alive. You remembered scrawling it down, snickering to yourself as you dragged the gel pen across the paper.

I wanna take him and tie him to my bedpost, probably shove my panties in his mouth and fuck him senseless.That would really shut him up.

Out of all the pages in that goddamn book, that’s the one he had to open up to?

You watched intently as his eyes flashed from yours to the page and then back again.

“What does it say?” Scott questioned, trying to lean over to get a look.

Instead of letting him read it, he snapped it shut and held it out towards you, his face expressionless. Was he mad? Grossed out?

“Don’t worry about it. We shouldn’t be readin’ her private stuff anyway.”

��Uh…,” you hesitated, fingers softly grazing his when you took it back, “thanks.”

You turned on your heel immediately and hastily made your way back to your room. You hoped to hide out there the rest of the day, praying maybe Logan would forget what he’d read or just let it be. You knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t.

You knew him so well because you were like mirrors of each other; smart mouthed and hot headed. You realized that the first couple months with the X-men, always butting heads with him until one mission where you had to grab the back of his jacket in an attempt to keep him where he was. You tugged with so much force that you nearly knocked him on his ass. Even Hank had never been bold enough to do that, not when Logan was as riled up as could be. From that point on, it was kind of an unspoken assumption that you would always be the one who calmed him down or held him back. So, you did just that; grabbing his wrist with both hands to force him to keep his claws to himself or pushing back against him when he tried to lunge at Scott for something stupid - though, after what he just pulled, you may just let Logan rip him apart next time. Though it was never acknowledged between the two of you, you were his anchor. You held him down when he began to drift away. Fortunately for you, he did the same - using minimal effort to keep you in place when you tried to go for someone’s face or going as far as to hike you over his shoulder and carry you away from the confrontation, all while you kicked and screamed to be let down.

You avoided him the best you could for two days after the incident in the kitchen, quick comments in passing but never staying long enough for a full conversation out of fear that he’d bring up what he read. What were you supposed to say, anyway? ‘Sorry I thought about fucking you?’

You’d have to think of something because you were face to face in training a few days later. Scott stood to the side of you both, a stopwatch in his hand.

“Alright, when I say go, whoever pins the other down for more than five seconds wins. Remember, you're each trying to beat your time from the last session.”

Scott’s voice almost sounded underwater. Your eyes were locked with Logan’s and though you wanted to rip your gaze away, you couldn’t.

“Ready? And…go!”

He backed out of the way and you tried to lunge at Logan, quickly being flipped onto your back.

“Okay, ow,” you whispered to yourself, immediately standing back up.

He tried to grab you when you stood but you caught his hand, twisting his arm behind his back to force him to the ground. You straddled his back and kept your weight on him but he was too quick, turning over and pushing you off him.

“Don’t get too excited, now,” he panted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You were caught off by the low cadence of his voice, inadvertently letting your guard down and giving him an opportunity to pin your arms above your head and keep your legs down with the weight of his knee. Scott began to count down and you racked your brain for a way to get yourself out from underneath him.

You were able to pull one of your legs free, sending him a little off balance and using your leg on the side of his torso to roll him over on his back again. You straddled his waist, using your hands and your forearms to hold his down. That, however, left you nose to nose while panting for air.

“What, you thought I’d let you win?” You asked, tongue poking at the corner of your open mouth. It was usual for you to tease each other with little snide comments. Nothing any different from the usual, right?

“Nah, I just really like havin’ you on top.”

Nope, definitely different.

You didn’t even hear Scott call time on your match at first.

“Hey! Lovebirds! I said you can get off each other. Jesus,” he groaned. You finally remembered where you were and quickly scrambled off of Logan.

“Aw, really? It was just gettin’ good,” he chuckled. You could feel his eyes on you as you gathered your belongings with your back turned. You tried to step out into the hallway, praying he wouldn’t catch you before you met the elevator doors - of course, you weren’t that lucky.

“Hey, hey - princess, wait up,” you heard him call after you and you stopped, turning on your heel with an irritated expression.

“About the other day, the thing you wrote - “

You sighed, rubbing your face in distress and cutting him off before he could finish.

“Listen, Logan,” you quickly looked around the corridor to make sure you were alone, “I know what you read, I don’t wanna talk about it. It - look, it was some stupid phase where I had a crush and it’s over, okay?”

He tilted his head. You hoped he would simply nod and move on, but you watched his lips curl into a smile instead.

“Aw, what happened - you changed your mind?”

You knew him well enough to understand the look on his face. He was never gonna let this go - in fact, he was probably going to nearly torture you over it.

“Shut up,” you huffed and continued to walk away, keeping your stare straight ahead.

“Aw, pretty girl -“

You dropped your belongings to the floor with an audible thud and gathered the front of Logan’s t-shirt in your fists, tugging him down to your height so you were face to face.

“First of all, I told you not to call me that - ‘princess’, ’pretty girl’ - like I’m one of your little girlfriends. Okay, kitty cat?” you scolded through gritted teeth. He hated being called that and you knew it.

His eyebrows were raised and his lips parted in surprise.

“And second of all,” you continued with a deep breath, “you read it, it’s done - leave it be, would you? It doesn’t mean anything.”

You still had his shirt in your tight grip.

“Alright, alright - I’m just teasing,” he admitted, trying to pry your fingers from his t-shirt, “and I’m sorry, I never should’ve been reading it in the first place.”

You sighed and finally let him go.

“Fine, I forgive you. And you can’t ever tell anyone what you read. Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“So, we’re cool again? Nothings weird?”

“Not unless you make it weird.”

“You were the one flirting with me.”

“Uh - was not. I was simply creating a distraction to throw you off guard and it worked.”

“I’ll get you back.”

“Sure, you will.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You and Logan were in forced proximity hours later, standing with Scott, Jean and Ororo in Charles’ office.

“Do we really have to go?” Logan groaned, hanging his head back in frustration.

You were staring at the thick paper invite atop Charles’ desk. All your names were scrawled in cursive, surrounded by small gold detailing with the event written on top. It was some kind of Gala, something for charity that you couldn’t quite make out from where you were standing.

“It would be a wonderful opportunity to represent the school, yourselves and the mutant population as a whole,” Charles answered.

“You really think wolvie and his little hothead wrangler are gonna be well behaved enough to not make a scene?” Scott gestured towards you both.

Logan stepped towards him and you instinctively grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to hold him back. He looked back at you, clearly annoyed.

“We’ll be fine,” you insisted while glaring daggers in Scott’s direction.

You didn’t notice that you were still holding the sleeve of Logan’s jacket when Charles dismissed you. You let go and cleared your throat as you followed him out of the room.

“There's no way in hell I'm wearing a suit,” he grumbled, looking down at his flannel and jeans.

“You don’t wanna play dress up?” You teased.

“And look like a stuck up prick? No.”

“I'm kind of excited to wear something nice for once,” you admitted, “I’ve got a couple nice dresses I’ve never even worn. Besides, maybe there’s gonna be a couple of hot, rich guys there.”

You were looking straight ahead as you walked side by side down the hall, smiling to yourself. If you had turned your head, you would have seen the way Logan rolled his eyes.

“What, you’re gonna go home with some rich schmuck just ‘cause he’s got money?”

He sounded almost annoyed. You furrowed your eyebrows and shrugged.

“I don’t know, if he’s good looking, maybe.”

That was only a little truthful. You were not the type of person who was comfortable enough to go back to a stranger's place or hook up with someone you’d never see again. But maybe you could, if it would keep your mind off Logan and convince him to forget about what he’d read a few days ago. And if the guy did have money? It certainly wouldn’t be a problem for you.

“Oh,” Ororo piped up from behind you, stretching out the vowel, “I see - you’re going shopping. Gotta try before you buy, huh?”

She playfully poked your side and you chuckled, swatting her hand away.

“Call it what you want,” you responded, “but I’m gonna have fun, at the very least.”

You would end up having fun - just in a much different way than you expected.

You decided on getting ready for the night in Ororo’s room when the time came a few weeks later. She was touching up her makeup at her vanity while you changed behind the bathroom door.

“Does it fit?” She asked through the wood with her eyes still on her reflection.

You were attempting to zip the back of your dress with your arm stretched uncomfortably over your shoulder.

“In a way? Kind of.”

Jean entered the room just then, having already gotten ready in her and Scott’s room.

“She’s trying on a dress that’s been in her closet since last year that still had tags,” Ororo explained to her as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Can one of you zip me up, though?” you sighed in defeat and opened the door, “I can’t get it.”

“Woah, mama!” Ororo comically wolf whistled and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

The dress was your favorite out of your collection of unworn clothing; it showed the perfect amount of skin and hugged your figure phenomenally. To top it off, the color complemented your skin in the best way possible.

“I don’t look silly? I feel a little funny getting all dolled up,” you confessed, turning around so Jean could pull your zipper up the rest of the way.

“Definitely not silly,” Jean reassured you but mumbled under her breath after, “Logan’s gonna lose it.”

You turned back around to quirk an eyebrow at her.

“Who cares what he thinks? Did I say I care what he thinks? ‘Cause I don’t. Like, at all.”

“Honey,” Ororo began, “we already know you like him, remember?”

You groaned and bent down to look into the mirror on her vanity.

“I don’t - not anymore, at least.”

“Yeah, right,” Jean giggled, “keep telling yourself that.”

Ororo looked at the time on her watch and hastily stood to slip on her shoes, “We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave soon. Logan and Scott are supposed to meet us downstairs.”

You stepped into your shoes and grabbed the little bag you’d carry for the night, following her and Jean out the door. When you finally got to the staircase, you could see Scott and Logan talking to each other at the bottom, the latter of the two standing with his back facing the stairs.

“All right, ready!” Jean enthusiastically announced. If she hadn’t said anything, the simultaneous clicking of your shoes would’ve announced your presence for you.

Logan turned around to face you. At that moment, he wondered why he ever complained about going in the first place. His eyes were glued to you as you came down the stairs and you could feel yourself start to get warmer.

He looked so good in a tux, Jesus Christ. You liked when he wore those tight fitting tanks and jeans, sure, but something about the formal attire really did it for you. His cologne wafting into your space when you stood next to him didn’t do much to help dispel any feelings you had, either. How badly you wanted to just forget the stupid event, tug him into your bedroom upstairs and show him that you were so not kidding about what you’d scribbled in your diary. Alas, that was certainly not going to happen.

‘Just an old crush,’ you internally tried to remind yourself, ‘just an old crush - that’s it. I’m not into him anymore.’

Except that you knew damn well it was a lie.

“We’re gonna be late if we stand here any longer, c’mon,” Scott began walking with Jean while you, Logan and Ororo followed.

“You look nice,” Logan finally spoke as you made it to the door, “think you’ll bag any of those rich guys?”

You almost asked what he was talking about, too lost in thinking about how you actually wanted to bag him and not some stranger.

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully, “but if I do, you’ll be the last to find out.”

“Oh, really? Why’s that?”

“Because I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Got that right.”

You eventually found yourself in a large, decorated open room, sat in the corner with Logan while he nursed a glass of whiskey and you anxiously scarfed down appetizers. The rest of the team had walked off to mingle - like normal people do.

“Kid, you’re gonna choke if you keep eatin’ that fast,” he warned you.

“ ‘m a stress eater,” you explained with a mouthful of fancy cheese, “besides, you’re a stress drinker. Thank god there’s so many tiny foods.”

He scoffed and took a sip of his drink.

“What are you even stressed about, anyway? Half your job tonight is to just stand there and look pretty and you’ve already got that down.”

“Thank you, I think?” your eyes nervously scanned the room, “I just hate being in a crowded place, especially one this big that’s full of complete strangers.”

“Why do you think I’m holdin’ a glass right now?”

Your eyes flickered between his and the half full glass in his hand. You wordlessly took it from his fingers before he even had time to react and downed the contents in one gulp.

“Well, that’s one way to calm your nerves,” he commented, “but if you keep drinkin’ like that, you’re gonna be face first on the ground before the nights even started.”

You were still holding a grimace from the burn of the alcohol but shook your head and cleared your throat, “I just needed the kick in the ass - I’m good.”

“So, you’re gonna go socialize? Good luck,” he raised his eyebrows, “something tells me these people aren’t really who we want to be hanging out with.”

“Why, because they have an immense amount of cash to burn and we don’t? You can’t hate people just because they have money, Logan.”

“Then how am I doin’ it right now?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I think there’s gotta be a few genuinely good people out there who just happen to be rich.”

“Uh-huh, and I think two plus two is five - it doesn’t make me right.”

“You know what? I’m going to prove you wrong,” you said smugly, standing up from the table.

“I think you’ll prove me right.”

“You wanna bet?”

“It’s a deal.”

“What are we betting, exactly?”

“How ‘bout this - if either of us can find someone here we actually want to go home with, you win. If we don’t, I win.”

“Fine,” you narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms, “what does the winner get?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “we can figure it out later.”

With that, you both dispersed. You were still feeling uncomfortable but that wasn’t going to go away unless you did something about it. Do you just go up and talk to someone? What do you say?

“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind you and you turned around, only to be face to face with a cute guy in a tux.

“Oh, so they come up to you,” you thought immediately.

“Uh, I don’t mean to be forward with you, but you look very beautiful,” he said politely, a charming smile on his face, “I saw you when you walked in and wanted to say something, I just wasn’t sure if you came with someone.”

You took a second to respond, still processing the fact that he even came up to you.

“Oh, thanks,” you finally replied, “you’re not too bad yourself.”

You tried to use humor to dispel the awkwardness - the type of awkwardness you feel when you get asked to go to a school dance in the seventh grade - but this guy was cute. If you just got to know him a bit, the mild discomfort would probably pass.

“I didn’t come here with anyone, by the way,” you added, “Well, I mean, I did but not in that way - I’m with friends.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, grinning, “in that case, would you wanna dance with me?”

You hadn’t even asked each other your names, and you didn’t really care.

You nodded and let him take your hand, “I have to warn you, though - I’m no dancer.”

“Well, do I look like one? ‘Cause I’m certainly not, either. But when there’s a beautiful woman in the room that you really wanna talk to, you’ve got to think of a reason to go up and talk to her.”

“I don’t know - I think you just might be a bit of a smooth talker.”

He was and it was definitely working. He clicked his tongue and waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t make me blush.”

He was funny, too. All you had to do was find out a little more about him - for the sake of the bet, yes, but also to determine the probability of breaking his bed frame later if it all went well.

So, you let him rest his arms around your waist and you put your hands on his shoulders. It was kind of nice to have someone so close. You started to feel mildly uncomfortable, though, as if someone was staring at you. You ignored it anyway, deciding it was just the anxiety of being in a place with a lot of people.

Really, it was Logan standing across the room with his stare glued to you two. He looked like he wanted to bore a hole into the poor guy's skull. When you finally caught sight of him, he turned and seemingly disappeared.

You spent a bit of time with your new date, intending to subtilely interrogate him to find out if he fit the criteria for your bet with Logan. Even if he didn’t? You might let him take you home anyway.

You sat with him at an abandoned table, leaning your head on your hand as you half - listened to him talk about stocks. You glanced around the room and spotted Logan again almost immediately.

He was leaning against the wall with a girl hanging from his arm. She was talking away and he looked completely disinterested. The whole point of coming was to distract yourself from anything to do with him and there you were, ignoring your date to silently seethe at a girl who was only in his vicinity.

You tried to zone back in on the conversation and really pay attention when he started to talk about his job. It was some tech company you’d heard of, a big name in the industry.

“Oh, so, what do you do there?”

“Well, I own it.”

You squinted and sat up straight.

“You own the company.”

It was more of a statement than a question.

He nodded and you raised your eyebrows. This was going much better than you anticipated. You couldn’t help but glance over at Logan to see that girl still standing with him. She was twirling a strand of her long hair around her finger. She was undeniably pretty, so you wondered why he wasn’t even looking at her while she hung all over him.

“Hey, would you wanna dance with me again? I know it’s a little slow paced, but I love this song.”

You returned your attention to the man in front of you and smiled as politely as possible.

“You know what? Sure, why not.”

You let him lead you into the middle of the room and rest his hands on your hips. He pulled you much closer than you’d been standing before, so much so that you were nearly stepping on his shoes. His hands slid down further and you laughed a little to yourself. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? So you wondered why it didn’t feel like something you wanted at all.

You caught Ororo’s gaze from across the room and she smiled, flashing you a thumbs up. When you caught Logan’s gaze, he was anything but smiling. There was a reason you felt like all this was something you didn’t want - you knew you wished it was him you were standing with. Still, you weren’t sure of why he wouldn’t tear his eyes from you or why he had such a scowl on his face.

You stopped staring back when your date planted a kiss on your forehead.

“What was that for?”

“Well, I kinda wanted to kiss you but I figured maybe goin’ right for the lips might have been too much.”

“We don’t even know each other's names.”

“Do we have to?”

You thought hard for a moment, wondering if Logan was still watching. It wasn’t fair to kiss someone just to try to make another person jealous, you knew that. He didn’t even have a reason to be jealous.

“You can kiss me.”

He was an alright kisser - nothing exciting. His lips were soft, though, and you liked the smell of his cologne. Before you could deepen the kiss any further, he was tugged backwards and off of you.

Logan had the back of the poor guy's jacket in his fists, nearly yanking him down to the floor with how much force he used.

“Alright, bub,” he grunted, “I think that's enough, she’s leavin’.”

You glared daggers at him with your lips parted in surprise.

“I can leave when I want to,” you said through gritted teeth, “what the hell is your problem?”

“Is he your boyfriend?” your date asked, nervously looking between you both.

“He’s n-” you began to answer and Logan cut you off as he grabbed your arm.

“Yeah. Get lost.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in anger but could feel your face becoming warm. You weren’t totally sure if you were turning pink from how enraged you were with Logan or from the words that just came out of his mouth.

“Outside. Now,” you demanded, tugging your arm from his grip.

You turned to walk away and he followed as you grumbled to him, holding your dress up a bit so you wouldn’t trip as you stomped out.

‘What the fuck was that?”

He didn’t answer, simply following at your heels with his eyes on the marble floor of the corridor. You swung open the door and stepped into the cool summer evening air, waiting until the door shut behind you to speak again.

“What, you didn’t want me to win the bet?” you guessed with raised eyebrows.

“You’re really gonna let some guy you don’t know shove his tongue in your mouth?”

You stood in stunned silence for a moment.

“Are you kidding? How is that any of your business?”

He scoffed and shook his head.

“I can’t believe you’re gonna let some asshole be all over you just ‘cause he's got money.”

“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows, “why do you care?”

“Why don’t you? Seriously, you’d just go home with some guy and fuck him?”

“I don’t - I don’t know,” you stuttered, “maybe, but that was part of that stupid bet! Not that it’s any of your concern!”

You were nearly shouting at each other.

He clicked his tongue and spoke in a sour tone, “none of my concern, sure. I didn’t think you’d actually try and go home with someone -”

“Okay, you know what?” you threw your hands up in frustration, “I don’t know what the hell your problem is or why you’re acting like some jealous boyfriend, but fucking cut it out!”

You were both finally quiet for a moment. The sound of cicadas and crickets songs filled the silence. Logan’s face was pleading, his features highlighted by the soft golden yellow light seeping through the building’s windows.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” he mumbled under his breath, his arms crossed over his chest.

You raised your eyebrows, “get what?”

You sounded exasperated, sick of playing what felt like the worst game of twenty questions ever.

Logan brought a hand to his face, scratching at his facial hair - something you recognized as a nervous habit.

“That stupid fuckin’ notebook, the little one you write in,” he groaned, “I just wish I never read it.”

“So, you’re mad about that?” You asked, clearly still confused as to what he was trying to say, “listen, I’m sorry, it wasn’t -“

“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying,” he interrupted, “it’s - fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know, It's like I read that damn thing and lost my mind.”

You waited for him to elaborate, a puzzled expression still plastered on your face.

“It’s all I can think about, all the time - it's like I close my eyes and I can still see it written down in your chicken scratch. I don’t even know what to do, It’s so stupid,” he huffed.

You still didn’t understand what he was trying to tell you or whether he was talking to you or himself.

“And then - I don’t know, alright - you look so…” he groaned with his face in his hands, “I like you - is that enough? Ya’ get it? I liked you for awhile and then Scott had to go peekin’ through shit that wasn’t his and reading that shit you wrote just made it even worse for me. I’m supposed to read that you wanna ‘fuck me senseless’ and just let it go? You thought that wasn’t gonna do something to me?”

You were slack jawed, feeling like your legs were going to give out from under you.

He seemed angry, his nostrils flaring while he held a frown.

“So…you -“

His hands cupped your face and he leaned down close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your skin.

“So, I want you to fuck me like you said you wanted to.”

Your eyes grew so wide that you feared they might pop out of your head.

“Would you, if I asked?” He continued in a low voice.

Your stomach erupted in butterflies and you nodded without hesitation. Conversations like this with Logan had only ever happened in your dreams.

His lips finally connecting with yours made your head spin. If he wasn’t tenderly holding your face, you might’ve just let yourself fall to the ground.

“I’ve been thinking about you for months, you know,” he admitted when he pulled away, “watchin’ when you walk away, thinking about how you say my name, wishing I could just tell ya’ - I didn’t have the nerve. Seein’ you with another guy, though - I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I could and I just can't.”

You almost expected to hear the beeping of your alarm clock that would startle you awake in your bedroom. Still, it never came. You could feel his hot breath on your face, the breeze on your skin, the warmth of his hands; it was all too real.

“You mean it? All of it?”

You didn’t know why your voice sounded so desperate, almost pleading with him not to toy with you.

“ ‘course I do. Of course, I mean - god, look at you.”

His mouth was on yours again and you smiled against his lips, your cheeks tinted pink.

“Hey, wait,” you pulled away momentarily, “why did you agree to that bet in the first place, then?”

He gnawed on his bottom lip anxiously.

“I kinda figured you wouldn’t be able to find someone good enough, I don’t know - maybe I could convince you to come back with me instead.”

“That was your plan?” you let out a small laugh, smiling so wide that your face began to ache.

“Well, It might’ve worked if you hadn’t met what’s-his-face in there.”

“I don’t know his name,” you shrugged, “didn’t care to ask.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

“I let him kiss me because I wanted to make you jealous,” you admitted, “I still like you.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

His expression was as smug as could be.

“That you still like me? Yeah.”

“How? Am I that obvious?”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugged and lowered his voice to a whisper as he put his lips to your ear, “I could smell how wet you’ve been all night.”

You swallowed hard and shivered when his hand slid up your back.

“And it worked, by the way - I’m jealous.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded and leaned his forehead against yours.

“Well,” you affectionately scratched at the hair at the back of his head, “are you gonna do something about it, then?”

He kissed you with much more fever than before and you caught his lower lip between your teeth, making him groan into your mouth. His hands were in your hair to push you even further into him to the point he was practically hunched over your body. When you finally took a second to catch your breath, you had a realization.

“I won the bet.”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Please tell me you don’t mean you’re actually still gonna go home with that guy.”

“No,” you rolled your eyes and let out an amused scoff, “I meant you, Logan.”

“Me,” he repeated with a beaming smile, “you’re coming home with me.”

You nodded and giggled, absentmindedly fixing the hair hanging in front of his forehead.

He was staring into your eyes in a way that had you feeling as though there was nothing else around you - no fancy party inside, no responsibility to socialize - just you and Logan in the cool light of the moon. He was studying your face like he’d never see it again if he turned away.

“What if I couldn’t wait till we got home?” He asked quietly. His warm breath just barely grazed your lips.

Your eyes widened and you thought for a moment, looking between him and the door beside you.

“C’mere,” you instructed simply, taking him by his hand and leading him inside to walk down the main hallway. You scanned the area and once you were sure no one would see either of you, you began trying knobs of different doors to see if one would open. When one finally gave, you slipped inside with Logan in toe and flicked on the lights. It was a small dusty office, one that probably hadn’t been used in a few months at the very least.

Neither of you wasted any time in taking advantage of your newfound isolation. Logan was kissing you like he was starving to taste you, working his way down your neck with an open mouth to leave darkening spots slick with his saliva.

“Logan,” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed momentarily from the way he was nipping and sucking at your skin.

“I love when you say my name,” he admitted, mumbling into your neck. His hands were everywhere - tangled in your hair, resting on your waist, your hips, your ass - he was desperate to keep his hands on you now that he had you.

You disconnected your lips for a moment so you could hop back to sit up on the top of the desk behind you. You hiked the skirt of your dress above your knees to avoid ripping it and motioned for him to stand between your knees as you held the middle of the skirt down with one hand.

“I’ve got an idea for my reward for winning the bet,” you smiled mischievously, leaning up to hold his chin and force him to look you in the eye, “what do you say, pretty boy? You wanna be part of it?”

He nodded eagerly and the pace of his breathing increased significantly.

“Good,” you leaned back on one hand, using the other to tug at Logan’s suit jacket, “off.”

He obeyed without hesitation and shrugged the garment off his shoulders. He began to untuck his shirt and you stopped him with a gentle touch.

“Did I say to take that off too, sweetheart? I don’t think I did,” you spoke softly in a firm tone.

“No - no, ma’am.”

It drove you crazy to have him under your thumb in that way, his usual domineering nature and dominance melting away by the second.

“So do as you're told, baby,” you instructed, “if you’re good for me, maybe I’ll reward you back.”

You could see him swallow hard, eyelids nearly fluttering closed when he thought of all the possibilities of what that might entail.

“F- mhm, fuck,” he stuttered when you brought a hand to the front of his pants and barely grazed the spot below the button with your fingertips. He began to twitch more and more with every touch.

“Are you gonna say yes?” your voice was near taunting, “or do I have to try a little more convincing?”

You popped the button on the front of his pants with ease and slid your hand underneath to feel him over the soft fabric of his underwear.

“Yeah, yes, I - ah, yeah,” he moaned in response, rocking his hips towards your hand and resting his forehead on your shoulder.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled and gently kissed his temple.There was something so lovably vulnerable about the way he was acting with you. You knew he’d never let another soul find out that he loved what you did to him - dreaming of you whispering affectionate nicknames and praise as he sloppily pounded into you or spending hours on his sore knees just so he could feel you cum on his face - but the intensity of his devotion bordered otherworldly.

“Do me a favor, baby,” you started, lifting your hips for a second to drag your panties down your legs, “take out your pretty cock for me.”

He obeyed, tugging his pants down his thighs just enough for his already hard dick to spring up out of the confines of his briefs. You inadvertently licked your lips at the sight, thinking of how heavenly he’d feel in you. He was huge, but for a guy who’s six foot two, it wasn’t a surprise.

He stood expectantly between your legs with his hands on your thighs. You leaned back on both hands, cocking your head to the side as you spoke.

“Touch yourself first and maybe I’ll let you touch me.”

The ‘maybe’ was a bluff. He knew as well as you did that you’d let him touch you regardless.

“Gimme your hand,” you ordered before he could even wrap his fingers around himself. You leaned your mouth over the palm of his hand and spat.

He groaned from the gesture alone, knees nearly buckling when he finally brought his hand down to coat his cock in your saliva.

“Feels good?” You cooed, eyes flickering from his face to his leaking cock in his fist.

“Mm - mhm, yeah, ‘s good,” he panted, “really fucking good.”

You failed an attempt to hide your wide smile, hypnotized by the repeated motion of his hand. He looked so pretty like this - his jaw hung open, chest heaving while his face became more flushed with every passing second. You could feel the rush of heat in your lower stomach just from watching him.

You couldn’t help yourself from leaning forward a little and unbuttoning his shirt from the top down, all while he watched you intently, his breathing becoming heavier the closer your hand came to his.

“Think of you all the time when I do this at home,” he panted, “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

The compliment made your heart swell; it was a sweet remark that so greatly contrasted the obscene speed of his hand as he stroked himself.

“You’re such a pretty boy,” you whispered and planted a kiss on his pink cheek, “you look amazing.”

You caught the way the motion of his hand slowed and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching forward and wrapping your fingers around his cock. He growled, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Don’t work yourself up so soon, kitty cat, or you’re gonna be finished before I even get to fuck you,” you murmured into his ear and he gasped as you started to pump him.

“Don’t - ah - don’t call me that,” he whimpered.

“Aw, you don’t like it, my pretty kitty?”

He growled again, even more animalistically , but his hips jerking into your hand told you he really didn’t hate that nickname as much as he told you he did.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” you continued to tease, “I know you like it - you love bein’ my big, pretty kitty.”

He groaned, lifting his head from your shoulder and crashing his lips into yours.

“Sh-shut up,” he managed to grunt.

You immediately withdrew your hand and sat back again.

He whimpered from the loss of contact and looked at you with pleading eyes, silently asking why you stopped.

“I said you had to be good for me, didn’t I?” you asked.

He nodded, eyes traveling from your thighs, up your body and then back down again.

“Good boys don’t talk back,” you said simply, raising your eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, I’ll - I’m good, I’ll behave, just please -“

His speech was cut short when you hiked your dress up even further to expose your bare, wet pussy.

“Fucking Christ,” he moaned.

You tugged the top of your dress down to expose your chest and he had to grip the desk you were sitting on so his legs wouldn’t give out from under him.

“If you can be real quiet,” you pushed some fallen hair out of his face, “I’ll let you cum in me. You want that?”

“Please, ‘v been thinking of that for fucking weeks,” he begged, “please, please, baby.”

He tentatively cupped one of your breasts and you rested your hand atop his, encouraging him to squeeze and knead however he pleased. You spurred him on to the point that he couldn’t resist leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking while his fingers toyed with the other one.

You couldn’t help whining from the sensation of his mouth on you while you combed your fingers through his hair.

He finally detached himself after ravishing your chest in wet kisses and left a string of saliva connecting his tongue to your nipple. You giggled a little to yourself and crashed your lips into his again in a heated mess of tongues and teeth. You scooted your hips up on the table and used your grip on his cock to graze his tip up against you, making him shudder.

“You’re so - fuck, you’re such a fuckin’ tease,” he gasped and held your hips in an iron grip.

“What’d I say about back talk?” you moved the head of his cock further away from you.

He groaned in frustration, moving his hands to hold your face, “Honey, I’m already beggin’ - please, I need you.”

The desperation in his voice made you even wetter.

“I guess you’ve been pretty good for me - do you think you deserve it?”

He nodded eagerly and placed his hand over yours that was around him. You let him nudge your hand away to align himself with your entrance. His eyes bore into yours as he finally began to push himself into you, rocking his hips slowly to help you adjust to his size. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist. When he fully sheathed himself inside of you, he let out a loud moan that echoed through the small space.

“I told you to be quiet, sweetheart,” you whispered into his ear.

“Uh-huh, ‘s a lil’ hard when I’m fuckin’ a girl I’ve been dreamin’ about for months,” he mumbled, working up a steady pace while you wrapped your legs around him and locked your ankles at the small of his back to help push him further into you.

“You feel so good, Logan,” you moaned, kissing down his jaw and throat.

He groaned at full volume again.

“Are you gonna stay quiet? or do I have to shut you up? Hm?” you grinned and he made an even louder noise. You reached behind you to find your panties and folded them into a ball, holding his jaw with your other hand.

“Open.”

He obeyed immediately, rolling his eyes into the back of his head when you stuffed them into his open mouth.

“Good kitty.”

He let out a muffled growl and the speed of his hips increased.

“Yeah,” you panted, “I know you like that.”

The angle at which he was fucking you made it so that he was hitting the sensitive spot inside of you over and over again, making you gasp each time. Sweat was forming on his neck and down both your chests, practically sticking your skin together in the hot, stuffy room.

“You’re - you’re so pretty,” you told him truthfully, admiring the rosey tint of his face and the drool that was starting to run down from the corner of his mouth. His eyelids fluttered closed and he started to thrust into you hard enough to shake the desk you were sitting on.

“Easy, kitty cat - you’re gonna break somethin’,” you muttered into the hot skin of his neck with a smug smile on your face.

His pace didn’t falter in the slightest, his hands gripping your ass to push you towards him every time he slammed his hips forward. The fabric of your panties muffled the guttural moan he choked on when you lightly sunk your teeth into his shoulder. He slid his hand between your bodies to bring his thumb to your clit, working tight circles around the bundle of nerves in rhythm with the thrust of his hips.

“Fuck, fuck, I-“ you were speechless, at a loss for words from the brutal combination of the pressure he applied with his fingers and the way he repeatedly hit that spot inside of you. His eyes were squeezed shut and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, still whining and growling like an animal into the fabric of your underwear. You felt the heat in your lower stomach start to build and you buried your face in his shoulder, your mascara smudged under your eyes.

“Logan, Logan, I’m - ah - ‘m gonna come,” you warned, tugging on the back of his hair.

He groaned and yanked the fabric out of his mouth, immediately bringing his lips to yours so he could tenderly make out with you while the squelching sound of your dripping cunt filled the room.

“C’mon,” he growled into your mouth, “c’mon, baby, please.”

Both your chins were slick with each other's saliva from the frantic way you’d smashed your lips together. Your whining and pleading became louder with every roll of his hips until the sensation sent you over the edge, euphoria blossoming from your lower stomach and spreading all throughout your body.

“Oh my god, Logan,” you nearly yelled, your hands slipping under his open shirt to scratch down his back, “s-so good. I love you.”

The three words slipped out without hesitation and your eyes widened, mild humiliation replacing the fading feeling of your orgasm.

His hips rutted against yours when you spoke and he leaned his face down so he was nose to nose with you.

“Love you so much.”

He kissed you softly with both his hands on your cheeks, so filled with affection that you could’ve cried. He slid his hands down back to your hips and kept his forehead against yours as he continued to drill into you.

“I don’t - I don’t ever wanna see ya’ with anybody else,” he panted, “I needed ya’ so bad. You - ah - ya’ drive me crazy.”

Even after having already came, his pussy-drunk rambling still spawned butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“You’ll never see me with someone else, baby - promise. ‘s always been you. Only ever really wanted you,” you admitted with a soft voice.

His thrusts became sloppy and you could tell that spurring him on with your words would make him finish just as quickly as you did.

“I’m yours, always have been,” you whispered in his ear, “you’re the only one I’ve ever thought about fucking me like this.”

He choked out a sob into your shoulder and came with an animalistic growl, looking down to watch the mess being made all over your inner thighs.

“Love you so fucking much,” he repeated with a sigh, slowly stopping the thrust of his hips and resting his head against yours again.

“I love you, too,” you replied and planted a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Sorry I made such a mess of ya’,” he apologized, spreading your thighs as he pulled out, “I’ll clean ya’ up when we’re home, I swear.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you chuckled, readjusting your dress and slipping your underwear back on while Logan tucked himself back into his pants and buttoned his shirt.

You caught a glimpse of the watch on his wrist as he moved and grabbed his hand so you could see the time.

“Shit! We were supposed to meet everyone back out front ten minutes ago,” you realized aloud, slipping yourself off the desk and pulling your dress down.

He mirrored your haste and let you fix his hair, doing the same for you and wiping away the mascara under your eyes.

“Okay, okay, c’mon,” you insisted, opening the door and slipping out hand in hand. You scurried down the abandoned corridor and all the way to the front exit. When Logan pushed open the door, you were met with Jean, Scott, and Ororo standing with worried expressions.

“What happened to you guys?” Scott asked before Jean nudged him in the arm, pointing towards your intertwined hands.

You looked towards where she was pointing and back up again, “Oh, uh…”

You tried to think of an excuse and looked to Logan beside you for help.

“Nothin’,” he said in a nonchalant manner, “just got lost around the place - lot’s of rooms in there.”

Ororo raised her eyebrows suspiciously.

“Sure, and, uh - Is that why you’re holding hands?”

You laughed a little, tugging his hand behind your back.

“Well,” you started, “remember I said I’d try to bag a guy tonight? Um-”

“I’ve been bagged,” Logan interrupted with a huge, smug grin.

“I wasn’t gonna put it like that,” you insisted, “but - yeah.”

“Finally,” Jean huffed and rolled her eyes, “I thought we’d have to have an intervention.”

“Huh?” Logan narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, c’mon,” Ororo laughed, “we all knew you liked each other, even before you did.”

“And you never said anything?” Logan asked.

“Neither of you ever believed us!”

“True,” you agreed with a shrug and giggle.

“I believe you now,” he stated, still holding your hand as you all made your way into the night, “She might like me. Just a little bit.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A/N: Thank you so much if you read till the end :) !! I did get stuck with some writers block in the middle of this and I'm not completely fulfilled w it but if I kept working on it it may take another week and my brain can't do it

Still working on requests rn so if you sent one in, I haven't forgotten about you!!! I'm trying to do two at a time so I can keep up (I won't burn myself out dw I usually do nothing all day till I work in the afternoon) <3

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fic #logan howlet smut #logan wolverine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fic #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine

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moonstruckme · 3 months ago

Note

pls hear me out 🙏🙏 vampire!james is recently turned and doesn’t feed cause he’s such a sweetheart he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

reader notices how weak he is and finds out he hasn’t been feeding and basically offers herself to him and it’s just really comforting and cute

Babe I hear you !!! I hear you soooooo clear (the voices omg, I was so excited to write this). Thank you for requesting!

cw: blood mention

vampire!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

James never had a problem with eating animals before he became a vampire. You pointed this out to him, once, but he only said it’s different. You suppose it is. The chicken nuggets he used to devour came to him cooked, fried, and with sauces, utterly unrecognizable from what they’d once been. There’s no separating the live-ness from what James has to eat now.

You spy on him over the top of your book. He’s sitting on the other end of the loveseat with your feet in his lap, massaging your arches through your thick socks while he watches a football match on the telly. His dusky skin had paled after he was turned a few weeks back, but he looks even paler than that now. If he were still human you’d think he was anemic. It’s four in the afternoon, and your ball-of-energy boyfriend looks as tired as if he’s ready for bed.

“Jamie,” you say, and he squeezes your heel to indicate he’s listening, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, lovely, yeah.”

“Have you been feeding?”

James stiffens at the term. “Mm, why do you ask?”

It’s as close as he thinks he can get to a non-answer, and it’s an answer for you anyways. James can never stand to lie to you. It’s terribly endearing.

You turn your foot to poke his abdomen. “I can hear your stomach growling.”

His lips curve. He glances at you. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“Really? How does it work?”

“I don’t actually have a clue.” James smiles, which was your aim. He’s been far too downcast for your liking, his new condition entirely to blame.

“Well, you’re looking pale.”

“I’ve been pale.”

“Paler than pale.” You set your book on the side table, moving closer to him. You sit with your feet folded under you. “Also, you haven’t been going out to feed like you used to.”

James finally looks a bit sheepish. You smile and cup his face in your hand. Though he knows you know, James has still been a tad secretive about the vampire business around you. He sneaks out after he thinks you’re asleep. You’ll hear the front door open and shut when he leaves and then again when he comes back, the kitchen tap running as he cleans himself up. You wish he’d just use the shower. You don’t mind him walking through your bedroom with blood and dirt on him if it means he gets to feel clean when he slips back into bed with you.

You rub your thumb over his cheek. “What’s keeping you?”

He sighs. His face weighs a bit heavier in your palm. You think this must be progress, and you repeat your ministrations to his cheek to encourage it.

“Everything’s hibernating,” says James, a quiet shame underlying his tone. “The…things I used to feed from are gone, and I’m not left with a lot of choices.”

You hum. “Well, you’ve gotta eat, Jamie.”

He hesitates, and you give him your sternest look.

“You do. What about the deer?”

“They’re harder to catch. And…I…I just feel bad, you know?”

You nod. Take his hand and press a kiss to his palm. Your poor sweetheart. You know James hasn’t killed anything he’s fed from, but even scaring them and potentially hurting them for the time it takes him to feed rattles him terribly. He’s too good, good and kind down to his core, but you know he’s going to have to find some way to cope other than starving himself.

“What about people?”

James’ eyes round behind his glasses. “Wha—no, I—”

“I wouldn’t mind you using me.”

He seems to falter for a moment. His thick brows draw together in stages, from disbelief to confusion and back again. “Angel,” he says, “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because, it’s—it would be—”

“Or maybe we could try someone else. Someone bad, like a corrupt politician or one of those people who siphons money away from charities.”

“No.”

“Then we’re back to me.” You smile at him, one part teasing and two parts genuine. “James, I want to. I don’t like seeing you like this, and I really don’t think I’d mind it.”

James looks like he’s still having trouble processing. “You don’t think you’d mind?”

“I don’t,” you repeat patiently. “I’m sort of curious, actually. It could be fun.”

He looks, to your surprise, like he might actually be considering it. He’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know if it’d be fun, angel.”

“That’s okay,” you promise him. “I want to do it for you. You’re hungry, yeah?” You try to make your voice serene and persuasive, your hand coasting up and down his arm. “Let me help.”

James looks you in your eyes. You hold his gaze. After a while, the fight seems to go out of him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says.

“Oh, baby.” You kiss him on his cheek, your heart bulging. “You won’t. It’ll be fine. How do you want me? Hair up?”

He shakes his head. “It’s good the way it is. I think, um, it might be easier if you were in my lap.”

“Okay.” You grin, lifting your thigh over his so you’re straddling him. His hands settle on your hips. “Are you romancing me? Is this part of it?”

James lifts the corners of his mouth, but you can see the trepidation lingering beneath his smile. You do your best to soothe it away with your hands on his shoulders.

“I want to be gentle with you,” he says.

“I bet you say that to all your victims.”

“Sweetheart…”

“Sorry, sorry.” You’re nervous. You kiss his nose in apology.

“If I hurt you—if you don’t like it for any reason, I want you to squeeze my shoulder. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, trying to look certain. “Does it usually hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” James admits. “With animals, they don’t usually…move much after I’ve bitten them. I’m not sure if it stuns them or what.”

“I’ll report back,” you say seriously. You glance down at the couch cushions. “Will it be messy? Should we go to the bathroom or something?”

“No, I’m—I’ve gotten better at it. We should be fine here.”

You smile at him, your pride genuine. “Sounds good.”

James is starting to look worried again, so you kiss him. On the lips, as sweet as you can muster, and imagine all your love pouring through it. Then, you pull your hair to one side and bear your neck.

His pupils splay out.

“Remember to squeeze my shoulder.” He sounds hoarse. One of his hands slips up your back to steady you beneath your shoulder blades.

“I will,” you vow.

James looks dazed, almost reverent. He wets his lips, and when he opens his mouth you see his tongue skim over pointed teeth. Some prey animal’s instinct sends a shiver of fear through you. Your blood hums with anticipation. But just before James’ teeth skim your neck, he pauses.

“Jamie.” It’s soft, a murmur, a plea. “It’s okay. Do whatever you want with me.”

He makes a quiet sound, like a sigh or a whine, and closes the gap.

At first, it’s only like he’s kissing you. He’s exceedingly sweet about it, lips opening warmly over your skin, his tongue pressing over your artery as though testing the waters. He splays his palm wide over your back in silent warning before his teeth sink into you.

There’s a sting, but you were ready for it. You keep yourself from wincing, from doing anything that would make James move away, and after a second the pain dulls. Everything does, except for the extraordinary feel of James’ mouth on you.

“Oh.” Your mouth opens of its own accord, head lolling further to the side to give him better access. You want more, more of this, more of him. Your brain fuzzes and your heart pounds, every nerve in your body narrowing its focus to where James is sucking at your neck, lapping you up.

You wind your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him, and his palm coasts up your back comfortingly. You feel molten, spectacularly, transcendently languid, like you could press your fingertips to his shoulders and they’d melt right in. You don’t, not wanting him to misinterpret it as your signal and stop, but after a while James’ arms are the only thing keeping you from tipping sideways onto the couch, and he stops anyway.

He finishes with a few chaste kisses, and you think giddily that you weren’t too far off about the romancing.

“Y’okay, lovie?” he mumbles into your skin.

You hum in reply.

James presses one more sweet kiss to your neck, almost a thank-you. He seals the wound with his tongue. A giggle bubbles out of you, one shoulder coming up to ward him off.

“Sorry,” you say to James’ surprised look. Your head is starting to clear. “That part tickled.”

His grin splits his face, one part tentative and two parts relieved. “Yeah? Are you really okay?”

“Super okay,” you promise him. You can’t help grinning. “You were right, it didn’t hurt. That was nice.”

James’ expression eases, some mix of relief and interest in his gaze. “Was it actually?”

“Mhm. I would be your blood donor any time, really.”

James scoffs, but he’s clearly elated. He strokes from your hip to your ribs with a big hand, trailing tender kisses up to your cheek. You’re thrilled to see how much more energy he already has.

“I don’t know about that,” he says in between kisses. “I’d still rather not make you my victim if I can help it.”

“I didn’t feel like a victim, if that helps.” Your words go mushy as he reaches your lips, but you keep talking, wanting to make your point. “I just mean, I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Maybe when you’re lacking in other options.”

“Mm, maybe. What was it like?”

“Like a really good kiss.”

James backs up from you to give you a dubious look. “Better than the ones I give you normally?”

You grin. “Maybe a little.”

His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth drops open, curving on one side. “Oh, yeah? Bold claims.”

“I don’t know if you can compete with whatever vampire magic that was, Jamie.”

“My kisses are very magical. It seems like I may have to remind you how good they really are, though.”

You shrug coyly. “If you think you can top that, you’re welcome to try. I mean, you’re really only competing with your—”

James is on you before you can finish.

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fastboatsmojito · 4 months ago

Note

just saw ur scott reblog gRAAAHH WOOF WOOF anyway !!! and it inspired me to request something <3 (love ur writing btw) pls write something with scott and how big he is 😣 a lil suggestive if u know what i mean 🙈

OHH YOU GET IT SO HARD + thank you so much !! 🫶🏼🫶🏼 whenever someone says they like my writing i get so giddy, it’s just the sweetest 😞

Anyways!!! Absolutely, thank you for fueling my obsession with this large man 💓

Just some scattered Scott x reader thoughts really

|CW; somewhat suggestive, he calls you girl once ☝🏼 incredibly obvious size kink from both parties whoops, he’s pretty canon-accurately an asshole, + suggested dom/sub relationship stuff??? Kinda??? Like not really but a little bit??? idk how else to tag that lmao. Obviously there’s a size difference here but it’s not specific, you could really just be shorter than him and it’d work just the same mwah <33

The first time you really notice is a total accident, you got caught up in the sight of the storm in front of you, not even given time to react to his stern “get in.” before he’s picking you up and putting you back in the car.

“What the hell was that?” He snapped, figuratively and literally as you blankly stare at him, still focused on how effortlessly he carried you back to the car.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know, it was just so close-“

“Yeah, no shit it was close. You could’ve gotten yourself killed. You have to pay more attention than that.”

You just nodded, staring at the way his hands flexed as he drove away, suddenly aware of the drastic contrast between the two of you. He picked you up like it was nothing, which was nothing considering the size of him, you just hadn’t thought about it in that way before.

——

He doesn’t think anything of it for a while, chalking your lingering glances up to his over-analytical mind, until you unintentionally piss him off with it.

“Is this going to be a problem for you?” He was right in your face, arms crossed over his chest as he bitterly chewed his gum, working himself up even more when you couldn’t give him a direct answer.

“If you can’t do your job ‘cause you’re too busy staring at me or whatever the fuck, I’ll have to move you to Javi’s team. Got it?” He barked, shaking his head as he stormed off.

As soon as he realizes why you’ve been staring at him, it’s over.

You were at the diner with the rest of the team, smiling as you walked to the table, bumping into some hard, tall, figure in front of you on the way.

He turned to steady you, big hands landing on your waist. “You ever try paying attention to what you’re doing? It’s pretty helpful.” He was a dick, sure. But you still found yourself focusing more on the feeling of his hands and the way your face warmed up at his assertive tone.

“You ever try not being an asshole?” You rolled your eyes at him before you walked away, but he didn’t miss the pause, or the way your breath picked up at his words. He put it together then, having been so caught up in work he didn’t realize just how tolerable you were getting, his hands constantly drifting towards you absentmindedly whenever you were close enough.

——

He usually went to work to get his job done and go home which was made clear, but after a while he got carried away. Comfortable enough being around you to end up reluctantly carrying you out of the car one night.

He tried to wake you up, met with sleepy grunts and you repositioning yourself before falling back to sleep.

He wanted to just leave you in the car, give you a blanket or ‘whatever’ but it was too cold, and you were in some small town he didn’t know well enough. He rolled his eyes as he took you out, large, rough hands a nice juxtaposition to the way he gently lifted you up.

He had to bring you to his room, not sure of where your room key was and not interested in dealing with your mood if he woke you back up.

He laid you down on the bed, throwing the blanket over you before taking off his work shirt and getting ready to begrudgingly sleep on the couch in his own room.

He went to turn off the lights, groaning when he saw you sit up, whining and stretching your arms.

“You know your necks gonna hurt if you sleep on that couch, Scotty. C’mere.” You sleepily muttered, patting the bed next to you.

He knew it was a bad idea, not missing the new nickname as he put his face in his hands, too exhausted to argue and too self-aware to disregard the attitude he’d have if he woke up to you in his bed and a sore neck.

“Jesus Christ. Alright, fine. One time. Don’t make it weird.” He gruffed as he turned the light off before slipping into bed next to you.

You were facing him as he faced the ceiling, his arms crossed firmly along his chest like some grumpy old man, still awake and motionless when you cuddled into him in your sleep.

——

After that he’s basically torturing you until you say it out loud. Putting his hands on your waist all casual to move past you, refusing to acknowledge any of it first.

Both of his hands were on your shoulders as he crouched down to be eye level with you, losing his patience after he caught you staring at his arms when he was trying to talk to you.

“If you want something, you’ll have to use your words like a big girl and ask for it. All this pouty, wordless shit won’t work with me. I need you to listen to me when I talk to you.” He spat condescendingly, minty gum popping in your ears. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and pointer when you shook your head.

“No? I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what you want. I’m not about to guess.” You squeezed your eyes shut to get away from his intense stare.

“I don’t want to say it here.” You barely whispered, opening your eyes when he sighed.

“Damn it.” He breathed before pausing, standing up tall and scanning over the parking lot you were in.

“Alright, come on.” He said bluntly before grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Scott-“ You pouted as he swept you back to his motel room.

“Just shut up and let me help you out for once, yeah?”

I need him so bad

#he’s so MEAN #grumpy green giant :|#this was longer than I intended but #🌑 blurbs #🌑 reqs #scott miller #scott miller x reader #twisters

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outerbankies · 3 months ago

Note

congrats bby, can you pls do Try to eat something." and light peck kisses,

new light: wondering why

rafe x reader

summary: fresh off of making things official, rafe is bummed to miss out on a boat day with you when he gets sick.

a/n: happy obx 4 week! lovely going back to the new light summer in this one for the prompt celly that still very much exists and i will complete if it kills me :-)

masterlist

Rafe thought that if he did his best to ignore it, it might just go away on its own.

He thought that if he pretended his throat wasn’t getting progressively sorer throughout the day, if he ignored the way his entire body was beginning to ache, if he acted oblivious when he pressed his own hand into the back of his forehead to find a steady warmth, none of it would actually amount to anything.

But he wakes up on the Fourth of July and just knows, knows he’s completely fucked — seeing you, seeing his friends, any of his other plans for the day immediately put on the shelf when he wakes up in the state he’s in.

He’d woken up to the sound of his ringtone chiming, and if the way the sunlight filtering through his curtains was any indication, he was waking much later than he normally would be.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he answers, phone smushed into the side of his face, after cracking one eye open to check that it was in fact you calling. He had an inkling.

“Rafe?” you return.

“Hm?” he grunts, finding the wherewithal to roll out of bed, standing on shaky legs and making his way down the hall and to the bathroom.

“You sound sick,” you accuse.

“Yeah…” he says, voice catching on a cough that sneaks up his throat. “Yeah — um. Fuck, Wheez came home from camp with something last week. I think I caught it.”

“Rafe,” you say, and Rafe can almost see your pout through the connection. “Oh no.”

“I know, I know,” he says, checking his complexion in the mirror. He looks even worse than he feels, and he’s almost grateful he won’t be seeing you today sporting this grayish tint to his face and splotches of red around his nose and eyes. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it today.”

“No, definitely not. Fuck. I thought you were acting weird yesterday.”

“Really?” he asks, leaning forward to rest a hand on the counter. He switches the call to speaker, placing it on the counter so he can rifle through his bathroom drawers for anything that could help.

After a beat, he hears, “You wouldn’t kiss me. Not on the lips, anyway.”

Rafe feels a smile pulling at his lips, as ill as he feels. “Shit, baby. You notice that kinda stuff?”

Maybe Rafe hadn’t been ignoring the feelings as much as he thought he’d been, if withholding kisses from you is something he was doing voluntarily, even subconsciously.

“Of course I do,” comes your reply. He can picture the sheepish look on your face right now, and the way you’d be ducking your head from his view the second you’d been caught out.

“Probably didn’t want you sick,” he says, trying to pinpoint anything weird from your date yesterday. It was nothing fancy, tacos on the beach after work, but he didn’t even consider cancelling while he was slogging through his day, and he didn’t regret it as soon as he saw you running down your parents’ driveway and to his truck.

“My hero. Is it just your throat?” you ask.

“Hm,” he considers, blinking away thoughts of the shorts you’d been wearing under the sweatshirt he’d given you once the beach got cold, closing the drawer in his bathroom, suddenly frustrated at its emptiness. He might have to raid the girls’ bathroom and the kitchen cabinet above the microwave. “I’m gonna be real, baby. I just feel like shit. All-around.”

“Head?”

“Yep.”

“Are you warm?”

He feels the back of his neck with a clammy hand, already knowing the answer as he ambles back into his room, unsuccessful. “Very.”

“Achy, too?” you ask, and Rafe has to crack another smile at how doting you are, treating him like one of your nanny kids who caught the flu at pre-k. God, Rafe hopes he doesn’t have the flu.

“Big time. Gonna lay down,” Rafe decides, burrowing back under his covers, phone placed beside his head on his pillow. “M’sorry about today, Y/n/n.”

“Don’t be, Rafe,” you say sweetly.

It was nothing too special, just your group of friends out on Kelce’s boat for the day. But you’d made Rafe promise to make an appearance at your mom’s party before you all got too drunk, and you’d even helped him pick out an outfit for it. The navy polo he was gonna pair with his striped swim shorts hangs on the back of his closet door, mocking him.

“Did you find meds?”

“Yes,” he lies. “Think they’ll kick in when I wake back up.”

“Good. Stay hydrated, too. Lots of fluids. And try to eat something when you get up, alright?”

Rafe looks at the empty water glass on his night stand, another empty promise falling from his lips immediately. “Yeah, I can scrounge something up later.”

“Okay,” you say, sounding slightly assuaged, but still skeptical. “Are you home alone?”

Rafe feels his eyelids getting heavier at the way your tone goes soft. “Mm. Parade starting soon, probably. They took Wheez. Sarah’s at her boyfriend’s.”

“Right. Okay,” you sigh. “Well hang in there, okay? I’ll check in on you in a bit.”

“Don’t,” Rafe says. “Go have fun with everyone. If anyone gets too drunk to get you home, I’ll come. Take it easy, baby. For me.”

He makes a mental note to text Kelce as soon as he can stand to open his eyes and look at his phone again, just so he knows someone’s keeping an eye on you. He trusts all of your friends, but the sun’ll be out and he knows how you all get about day drinking. Plus, he’s got boyfriend duties now.

It’s been barely a week since he’d made it official, so his stomach still swoops when he remembers that you’re his. And not in a queasy way, from whatever malady he’s fighting today. In a way that he can’t believe it — can’t believe he landed you. That you like him, that you’re giving him a try, that you might feel even a fraction of the same way he does for you.

Your friends don’t even know yet; today might have been the day to let them know, but not anymore.

“Don’t worry after me,” you say indignantly.

Rafe’s eyes finally flutter shut, your voice luring them closed. “I will.”

“Dork,” you giggle. “I’m hanging up now. Feel better.”

“Bye, baby,” he says, drifting off before he even hears the dial tone.

—

You already had the cute, red bathing suit you’d been planning to wear all day on when Rafe fell sick this morning. Purchased at a boutique on the mainland with him in mind last week, of course, but only bought and paid for when Gretchen and Margot had stepped out of the dressing rooms in their own new suits, assuring you you had to buy it.

You’d thrown a long sleeve and the shorts Rafe really liked on over it before getting in your Jeep, heading off to the south side of the island for one of the only restaurants in town open on the holiday.

And now you stand outside of Tanneyhill, nervous as can be, wondering if this was the right move.

Rafe did divulge that his entire family was out, so you summon the courage to lift a hand to use the door knocker. Of course, Tanneyhill had a door knocker, god — you don’t know why you didn’t notice until now. Maybe it’s because you’d always rolled up in a group, or to an open door, or filtered in through the side. But this was the first time you’d ever really—

The door creaks open, a head of pillow-messy hair hidden under a navy blue hoodie appearing in the gap.

“Y/n/n?”

“Hi,” you say, your voice shaking.

“Baby,” Rafe sighs, pulling the door open completely. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re sick.”

“You’re supposed to be…” he begins lamely, letting you breeze past him over the threshold into his empty home, shutting the door after you. He pushes his sleeve up his arm to check his watch, and you notice a tremor. “Weren’t you guys meeting up around now? You know Top isn’t gonna wait around on the dock.”

“I know. I texted him I wasn’t coming,” you say. “All the delis up here are closed. The co-op, too. But there’s this pho place down past the marina that’s so good.”

He smiles. “I’ve heard of it.”

“I made sure to get a ton of sriracha packets — I know you like stuff really spicy,” you continue, setting the bag with the styrofoam containers on the kitchen counter while he trails behind you. “So even if you don’t like it, maybe you can—”

“I’m sure it’s great.”

You walk into his arms, slipping your hands up to rub his back. “I’m so sorry you’re sick, Rafe.”

He encloses you in a tentative embrace, his head leaning away with intent. “You brought me soup?”

He sounds disbelieving, and he looks it even more, digging into the bag. You rifle through the tote bag on your shoulder at that point, too, placing the other things you’d brought on the counter. “And some decongestants, cold and flu. I forget that literally everything closes here on holidays so it’s just what I had at home, but maybe someone at Heyward’s is—”

Rafe interrupts. “You brought meds, too? I told you I took some.”

You assess his pallor, your hand holding the side of his face. “I don’t think I believe you.”

When he sags into your hold, your thumb brushes his cheekbone. You pull him down until he bows, pecking his forehead. “Do you wanna go shower up? If you get it real hot, the steam might open your sinuses. I’ll keep the soup warm while you’re up there.”

He presses a tentative kiss into your hair, distancing himself from you to head back up the stairs. “I’ll go do that. Um, stay down here? We can hang on the couch, or whatever. Just — m’room’s a mess,” he says bashfully, one hand on the banister and another behind his neck.

When Rafe heads up, you briefly consider following defiantly a few minutes later to clear up his space and make up his bed for him — but it’s fresh, you two are fresh — it’s barely been a week. Eight days, if you were counting.

You keep good on your promise to keep the pho warm, portioning out some meds too. He’d been warm to the touch, and you’d make sure he had food in his stomach, and that he actually took something. Because you were beginning to suspect that he didn’t take care of himself at all like he promised he would on the phone.

He comes back downstairs looking maybe five times better, in a clean t-shirt and sweats, his wet hair falling over his face.

“Better?”

“Better.”

You eat side by side at his parents’ kitchen counter, Rafe taking breaks to lean his head on your shoulder, his hair smelling of him in a way that, until now, you hadn’t come to recognize was his shampoo. You try to hide the quirk on your lips when watch him dump two packets of hot sauce into the broth immediately, reveling in the fact that you remembered to grab extras.

When he starts pushing the noodles around aimlessly, you grasp the container gently, setting it on the counter before him. “Wanna go lay down?”

“Yeah,” he says, watching as you pack everything up, saving his leftovers in the fridge.

You make a mental note to text him later about reheating and how long it’ll keep while you get ready to leave him be, already sad you won’t be parting with a kiss. “I’ll still be calling you later, okay?”

“You’re leaving?” he asks, one arm crossing over his body so he can scratch at his bicep.

“Yeah,” you say, confused. “You didn’t want me to see your room.”

He laughs, but it catches on a cough and your heart breaks at his pink and watery eyes. He clears his throat. “No… but we could — well. If you don’t wanna leave, we could… the couch, maybe? I don’t... you don't have to leave.”

Which is how you find yourself the most relaxed you’ve ever been in Tanneyhill, a blanket over your legs with your boyfriend’s head in your lap, some action movie droning quietly in the background.

“You can turn on one of your shows,” he says sleepily, rolling over until his lips are brushing the strip of skin between your shirt and the top of your shorts. “The housewives or whatever.”

His arm circles around your back, pulling you in, and you can’t understand how he still ties your stomach up in excited knots with a raw, pink nose and the smell of vaporub coming from his chest.

“This is fine,” you say, nodding to a buddy comedy with a title you don’t know, your eyes following a plot you don’t care about.

“I’m kinda invested in that one you had on the other night,” he confesses, cracking an eye open for you. He suddenly grins mischievously, and you feel the hand that’d wrapped around you suddenly digging into your side. “What’s this?”

His finger traces the strap of your bikini bottoms, and your skin flushes at the touch. “You got sick and now you’ll never know.”

“No,” he groans dramatically. “Please.”

You play ball, retracting your hand from his hair to lift the edge of your shirt obligingly. Rafe groans again, his face buried into your lap even further. “Fuck. I’m so mad we’re missing today.”

“I’m kinda not,” you admit. “I hate that you’re sick, but I was nervous about… I haven’t seen anyone since last week.”

“You tell any of them?” he asks softly, his head tipping back for your answer.

“Not yet. You?” you ask even softer.

“Not a soul,” he says. “I just… It’s nice having it just us for a bit.”

“I’m not ready for all the shit Kelce is gonna tell you about high school. And the girls. Probably Top, too,” you sigh, feeling your cheeks warm while you tip your head back to the couch.

“We’ll at least be even,” he promises. “Or I’ll be worse. Guaranteed.”

You aren’t immune to his insinuation, rushing to further the subject. “I was thinking maybe today.”

“Today,” he agrees. “I definitely wanted to do today. And I don’t think I would’ve been able to keep my hands off you, anyway.”

“Made yourself sick over it,” you tease.

“That was probably just from asking you out,” he teases back, his hand squeezing your knee where he’s back to facing the TV.

You can’t find it in yourself to be worried about his family coming home and finding the two of you, or about anything, really, as Rafe dozes in your lap, his grip never faltering or becoming any less warm and captivating. Not even when your phone buzzes with a FaceTime from Margot, and you opt to answer it while keeping the volume as low as possible.

“Where the fuck are you?” she demands. “There’s coasties everywhere.”

“I’m at Rafe’s,” you answer boldly.

She lowers her sunglasses through the glitchy connection, the ocean behind her a sea of pixelated blues and whites. “Why are you at Rafe’s?”

“He’s sick,” you say simply.

“That’s girlfriend behavior, Y/n,” she claims.

You say nothing, just giving an innocent shrug before you bid her goodbye, wondering how long it’ll be before she blows your phone up.

#answered #new light hcs #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 year ago

Note

4 with lando :)))

flashing lights - kanye west (respect the art not the artist!)

LN4 x reader

tysm for the request xoxo!! finally continuing my requests (sorry it took ages whoops) flipped my list and went from the bottom for this bc otherwise we were gonna have some repeats lol

images below from pinterest - i claim no ownership 🙃

warnings: none! some swearing, some fluff, lando being a funny little camera shy pr machine - but fr minors pls just dni with my work okay tysm!!!

lando was frantically pacing your apartment when you walked in, eyes wild, as if he hadn’t slept, and hair an absolute disheveled state. his usually sun-kissed skin seemed to get even paler when he heard the door shut behind you, coming to a halt in your kitchen and staring at you as though he’d seen a ghost.

“lando?” you questioned, confused as to, a) why he was here so early, and b) why he looked like he was about to confess that he had killed your entire bloodline.

“baby, i’m so sorry.” your blood ran cold. what had he done? he closed the space between you, tentatively taking your hands.

“lando… what’s going on?” you tilted your head, starting to sweat in your oversized leather jacket. you’d just been out running errands, picking up bits for the dinner you were supposed to be sharing with the mclaren driver, much later in the day.

“i didn’t think anyone had seen us but then i had my assistant, the entire pr department and my mother phoning me, and then max called and said that him and pietra wanted to see if we were okay, before i could call anyone else back which confused the fuck outta me, so i finally checked twitter and there it was and i just got in the car and came here but god, i’m so sorry.” lando finally exhaled, looking like he was about to pass out, with creases so deep on his forehead that you thought they’d stay there permanently.

“okay, lando? sweetheart? yeah, okay i’m gonna need a bit more info.” you over enunciated each word, stressing that you were still in the absolute dark about whatever was on the verge of sending him into cardiac arrest.

“there’s photos. of us. kissing.” he finally said, quietly, and after a good ten seconds of staring at you in utter fear.

“fucking hell, i thought something terrible had happened. jesus christ, lando.” you exhaled, eyes wide. he stared at you like you’d grown a second head, stepping forward to mockingly rest his hand against your forehead as if he was checking your temperature.

“are you… are you… okay?” lando asked, eyebrow quirked. he was shocked at how calm you were.

you’d both agreed to keep your relationship private, and over the last five months, that had gone swimmingly well. but some low quality photos taken, as you waited for some friends outside a restaurant in the outskirts of london, had fucking launched the cat out of the bag.

“how bad are the pictures? are we naked or something?” you scoffed at him and now lando was truly confused.

“no, but- but i thought we were gonna keep this quiet.” he murmured.

“i know, baby, but okay, it’s out. is that really so bad? it was bound to happen eventually.” you reasoned, and lando finally saw your point.

“i just want to protect you, from all of the lights and the flashing cameras. love you too much to lose you to those vultures.” lando dipped his forehead against yours as he spoke, eyes locked on yours. you couldn’t help but smile at him, the loveliest man you could have wished for.

“oh, my sweet, sweet boy,” you crooned, pecking his lips. “you know i love to show off.” he laughed at that, a low rumbling in his chest.

you pulled away, stepping around him and walking further into your apartment, dropping all of your stuff down in your kitchen.

“anyways, i already saw the pictures. we look hot.” you ignored his incredulous ‘what?’, waving him off. “now, come here and help me make dinner.”

#lavenderlando #lando norris #lando norris blurb #lando norris drabble #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #blurbs #drabble #blurb #lando norris fluff #lando norris fics #f1 fics #f1 fic #request #ask #writing things #f1 fluff #jas’s spotify blurbs

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 9 months ago

Text

Hunger

Pairing: Dark Dabi x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

SUMMARY: Leaving you with an empty stomach is the first step for Dabi’s plan to break you.

WARNINGS: Implied Kidnapping; Starvation; Manipulation.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Finally entering the Bnha fandom. Give me more ideas, pls, a girl doesn't know what to write :)

–

You wince at the pain that blossoms in your middle.

Your stomach far too tired to growl properly, having resigned to prolonged painful pangs - a pitiful form of begging to which you can’t answer. Your whole body feels weak, no strength left in your limbs aside from a dizzy mind that keeps drifting away.

You can’t even remember when was the last time you ate something - courtesy from Dabi. He is a vindictive asshole, you knew that from the start.

Wasn't that the reason you got yourself kidnapped? Your constant refusal to his advances snapping him off enough to kidnap you.

But you didn’t think he’d make you starve for days as retaliation for all the yelling and shouting the nastiest insults you could find at the black-haired man.

You’d kill for a single bite of that delicious crusty pizza you ate that one time. Or that mouth-watering hamburger that so often appears in television advertisements.

Just the memory of food has your stomach hurting even more and you curl your arms around your body in the bed, feeling yourself getting weaker by the minute.

As time tediously drags by, you fall into a light slumber, wincing at the regular stomach aches.

The faint noise of the apartment door opening barely means anything to you, however the subtle aroma of warm food that reaches your nose triggers your eyes open.

It floats through the small apartment, the smell of delicious cuisine bringing water to your dry mouth and you gulp. Are you dreaming?

Footsteps and the chickling of plates is all your ears catch and it doesn’t take long before Dabi appears at the door, holding a plastic tupperware.

“Wakey wakey, sweetheart. Look what I got here.”

You sniff, head rising fragilely and your stomach growls loudly. Dabi chuckles at that, stepping closer to you.

“Looks like someone is hungry.” he opens the container and you almost choke when the luscious smell of seasoned food hits your nostrils.

One of your hands unconsciously raises, fingers greedily reaching for the tupperware but Dabi is quick in moving it away from your reach, placing it on the floor behind him, knowing there’s no way for you to reach it given the heavy chain attached to your ankle.

“Now, now, sweetheart, where are your manners?”

“I’m hungry…” your weak voice brings a feline smile on Dabi’s voice, features twisting with pleasure at the hunger in your face, your cheeks slightly sunken with malnutrition.

“Not so strong now, are we? What happened? Got yourself into a diet?” he maliciously retorts.

He slowly sits at the edge of the bed, blue eyes attentive to your reaction but you offer him none.

You’re too tired, too hungry to put up with him. The pit in your belly only worsens with each second and you’re about to beg Dabi when his hand reaches for your face, tenderly caressing your cheek.

The momentaneous satisfaction in his disfigured face is broken into irritation when you recoil, pulling your face away from him, avoiding his touch.

His fingers harden into an angry fist and he scowls for a moment before forcing himself to calm down.

“Always an ungrateful brat, aren’t you? An ungrateful stupid brat.” his eyes get colder as he glares at you. “Never able to appreciate all the things I do for you, huh? Always so-”

He stops, shaking his head before straightening his back and then he smiles - a wicked terrifying smile that has you forgetting about your devastating hunger - as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Nah, but you know what? Brats don’t deserve to eat anyways.” he shakes some invisible dust off his long jacket, sighing as he starts to stand up,

“Well, guess I’m just gonna eat all that delicious food all by myself since I got no one to share it with. I even bought those delicious crispy chips you liked so much, but oh well.”

You blink, panic and hunger bubbling in your body as you hopelessly reach for the cloth of his jacket.

“No, Dabi, please!” you cry out, swallowing the last of your pride and honor as you beg, and he slowly sits back on the bed, “I’m sorry, okay? Please…”

His jaw twitches with enjoyment and the corner of his lips curl.

“Yeah, is that so? Little brat wants to be a good girl now?”

You nod eagerly despite the knot that tightens in your heart, but you can’t afford to think about any of this. You have to eat.

“You sure about that? I’m not forcing you or anything, right?”

The irony of his words would make you roll your eyes if you had the energy for such.

“Then say it. Loud and clear, so there’s no doubt left.”

“I-” you lose track of the words at the sight of his electrifying blue eyes, “I want to be a good girl.”

“Then you can start by acting like a good girl. Come here.” he taps his lap, his hand latching onto your wrist and you don’t resist when Dabi softly tugs you towards him.

A whimper escapes you when your frail muscles are forced to move using the last of your scarce energies but at the end you find yourself perched on top of Dabi’s lap, one leg awkwardly bent while the other lays straight, the chain on your ankle fully stretched.

His arms waste no time wrapping themselves around your waist, your arms getting caught in the way. He nuzzles into your neck, humming in delight despite the obvious tension in your body

“Are you sure you want to be fed? Cause you sure don’t seem very enthusiastic.” his dab is enough to snap you out of your transe and you turn your face towards him, pressing a small kiss to his cheek, cringing when your lips touch the cold staples.

“That’s better.” he opens into a wide smile. “Wasn’t so hard, after all, huh?”

The rumble from your stomach has you wincing. “Can I eat now?”

Dabi doesn’t mind you, too busy peppering kisses over the expanse of your shoulder.

“Dabi?”

“Hum, maybe in a while.” he winks at you, and you feel sick to your stomach despite having eaten nothing.

“I need to make sure that my good girl doesn’t turn bad.”

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taintandviolent · 7 months ago

Text

Thrill of the Rush ; James March x reader

summary: Reader is a murderer, coquettish and demure in nature. She brings a man to the Hotel Cortez, and it ends how it always ends for them. The only difference, is that James March is watching her and is enamoured.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 2.6k! | serial killer!reader, graphic descriptions of murder, violence, blood and gore, descriptions of smut, cunnilingus, arousal, kissing/making out.

a/n: requested by anonymous and inspired by Lana Del Rey's Serial Killer song! hopefully this isn't too clunky, or boring in anyway! proofread very briefly, if you see any mistakes, no you didn't.

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you'd like to be notified of future fics!

Elvis’s voice drifted from your speaker. The hotel room was cool, a stark contrast to the hot LA summer outside. The room itself was outdated in decor and architecture, something that you found charming – you’d chosen it specifically for its gorgeous, untouched art deco style. Stephen protested, saying it was rundown and dingy. You shushed him with a single manicured finger and led him inside, heading straight for the hotel desk.

He was a man. A stupid, hungry man who could only think with one head at a time. So, it didn’t take much for you to get up to the hotel room, and onto the bed. You’d let the strap of your dress fall off your creamy soft shoulder, coaxing him closer to you.

He nuzzled his lips into your breast, tugging softly at the skin. He muttered something into your skin, something grotesque, and you didn’t hear him. You were too busy listening to the thud of your own heartbeat – your own excited little heartbeat. You reached into your purse, which had been laying next to you, to retrieve the knife. It was a beautiful thing; pink pearlescent inlay on the handle, and a long, shimmery silver blade.

Raising it high above his head, your elegant fingers gripped the rosy hilt of your knife, and using all your strength, stabbed it into the side of the man's neck. The blade sliced through his skin like butter, giving no resistance. There was nothing like the sensation of killing – it never failed in making your eyes glisten, a cruel fire burning bright within them. Your chest fluttered with excited little breaths, rushing out over your pouting, pink lips in tiny gusts. The thrill, the rush, it was unlike anything you’d ever experienced – even sex. No man had ever made you feel the way killing him did. You twisted the knife slightly.

In response, he gurgled; a delightful sound that had you giggling. You had angled the knife just right, plunging it deep before yanking it out quickly. The blood spurted out in a warm geyser over your hand, trailing down your wrist in crimson ribbons. His hand flew to his neck, pitifully trying to stop the flowing river. You slapped his hand away softly.

"Pl-please..." He murmured, as his body started to droop away from yours.

You bent over, kissing the man on the forehead. As darling as you had been before, maybe even more so then. “Oh, baby…” you whispered, cloyingly sweet and soft like a summer day. He knew that he was going to die, and the begging was futile. Still, he persisted, wet and coughing between each plea.

You pushed him off of your breast, and more blood squirted out, the arteries pumping it out with each beat of his heart. James' dark pupils widened, watching as you worked. He hadn’t made himself known yet, and wouldn’t until you were finished. Nothing should interrupt this delicious display of cruelty.

“Tell me you love me,” you whispered. “Tell me I’m the sweetest girl you’ve ever seen.” He didn’t. He didn’t say anything else… and he never would again.

“Hmph.” Frustrated, you got off the bed, and smoothed your hands over your hips; the satin of your slip dress was warm and soft and provided no friction.

"Seems you've got yourself between a rock and hard place, my dear."

You spun around. In front of you stood a dashing man, dressed to the nines and resting some of his weight on a cane. He was handsome, but possessed a coldness that drew you in. He wasn't like the others.

"How did you get in here?!"

"The door was..." He turned to look at it, casually. "Open."

"No..." You shook your head, soft curls bouncing. Your tone was coy, knowing. "No, it wasn't."

"Ah," he said, tightening his lips into a sly smile. Had his heart been beating, it would’ve quickened at your darling little response. You were quick; a trait that he enjoyed and very rarely saw.

"He deserved it, you know." You looked at the man on the bed with a disproving sourness in your gaze. His body had slumped over the side of the mattress, blood streamed from the gash in his neck to his hairline, staining it red.

"I don't doubt that." He inhaled, stepping further into your room. "However... The problem remains of what to do with him. I presume you’ve yet to figure that out." His voice had your knees weak, turning the tendons to jell-o every time he spoke. It was so deep and croony, like molasses if it had a voice.

"No," you trilled. "No, but you seem like you do."

"I do," he started. There you went with your quick-witted confidence again. "You see, I have built this hotel to satisfy... my every need and whim, whatever they may be. I have a way to dispose of him for you."

Your hand lifted to your shoulder, your finger winding a lock of hair around it. You pursed your lips, as though you were considering his offer. The truth was, you’d already made up your mind. He was dangerous, unafraid, but interested in you. A refreshing change from the rest of the men that you courted and ultimately killed. Besides, he was right. You had a corpse in the room and were unsure what to do with it, besides leaving it and requesting another room, claiming something trivial like the hot water not working.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask, running your tongue along the bottom of your teeth, before coming to rest in the corner of your mouth. "You don't even know me."

"I don't, my little buttercup, this is fact, but what I do know of you, I crave."

Your knees wobbled. Somehow, he’d captivated you. You were never taken by men; they were useless, dumb playthings that you disposed of as soon as you got bored with them. You were never the one that was wrapped around a finger, it was always the other way around. But something… something about this man and the sick, nasty glimmer in his pitch-black eyes had you shivering.

“James March,” he declared proudly, before offering his hand. You placed your own atop his palm, and he leaned down, pressing his lips softly against your knuckles. Your lips tensed, withholding a whimper.

All at once, he closed in the distance between the two of you. Exactly what you wanted him to do, and without asking. You gasped, looking up into his soulless gaze. “Hold me,” you whispered. “Please.”

With a single nod, he enclosed you in a frighteningly firm grasp. You weren’t going anywhere – not that you wanted to.

“I don’t know what you do… or what you’ve done…” you whispered, feeling light in his arms. He held you like old movie stars held their beloved; arms wrapped passionately around the waist, holding you tight at the hip. James waited, on bated breath, for you to finish your sentence. Instead, you stood on your tiptoes, and pressed your soft lips against his. They were cool, and immediately surrendered to yours, parting to exhale into your mouth. As his breath filled your lungs, you succumbed to every feeling he was pulling from you; your legs quivered and pressed together tightly. Your core tightened, and your cunt clenched with arousal. Slick leaked into the silk of your underwear, staining the fabric with your submissiveness.

His head tilted, allowing him to go deeper inside your mouth. His tongue slipped along yours, twirling and exploring the soft, slippery flesh of your mouth. Without breaking the kiss, James walked you backwards, guiding you towards the bed. His shin knocked into the corpse’s head, which lolled lifelessly.

You were at his mercy, and gasping for air, broke the kiss to look down at your feet. Stephen’s eyes were glazed over now, void of life. He had paled, the crimson stark against his bloodless skin. A puddle had settled beneath his head, seeping into the carpet. You broke away from James and bent down, shoving all your weight down on Stephen's shoulders. Rigor mortis hadn’t set in, so he rolled over easily, towards the edge of the bed, which freed up most of the bed for whatever came next.

You immediately snuggled yourself back into James’ arms, nestling against his chest. “There… all better.”

He hmm’ed at the crown of your head, holding you tight. His hips ground against yours, a stiffness pressing into your hip bone. A reminder – he was a man. But not akin to the other men… he was different. You looked up, gazing into his eyes.

James guided you backwards onto the bed, your ass hitting the mattress with a squeak of protest from the old springs. Placing one hand on either side of your hips, he kissed you again, urging you back further yet. He was intoxicating. Everything he did had you quivering like a lamb in the jaws of a wolf – and you wanted more of it. More of everything. You wanted him.

“I love you just a little too much,” you cooed, brushing your lips over his neck. The satin of his ascot brushed against your chin and you longed to feel it tied around your wrists. Your hand brushed along his bulge, feeling the taut fabric that covered it. As the feelings bubbled up inside of you, effervescent like champagne, you couldn’t stand it. No man should ever make you feel the way he did and with a small gasp of air, you reached for your knife again. James caught you fast, holding your wrist in an iron grip.

“I’m afraid not, my dear. You won’t get that pleasure with me.”

“Pleasure?” You asked, doe-eyed, feigning innocence yet again.

“Perhaps another pleasure,” he cooed against your lips, his moustache tickling the flesh under your nose. You were divine… a shining beacon of temptation amongst a sea of poor fools. It had been decades since a woman captivated him the way you did.

James sank to his knees, slowly, as you watched, holding your breath. His hands gathered your satin slip over your knees, and pushed it over your hips, exposing your silken underwear. The wet spot had grown considerably, and James pressed his lips against the damp fabric. The sensation was electric, sending chills up your spine in a wave of unadulterated pleasure. He kissed her again, pressing harder. He could almost taste her through the silk. You whimpered, and let your head drop between your shoulders. He brushed his lips across your mound again, and you got even wetter. For a brief moment, he disappeared and the reaction was painfully visceral.

“Don’t…. Don’t stop…” you said to the ceiling, out of breath and trembling. You could hardly get yourself upright to look at him.

“I’ve no intention of doing so, my dear. None whatsoever.” Carefully, as though unwrapping a delicate gift, James pulled your underwear from your hips, tugging them delicately down your thighs. Murder always got him worked up, but this was an entirely different arousal.

“Let me see her…” he said, low His hands were on your thighs, resting carefully atop of them.

Using your manicured fingers, you reached forward to spread your cunt to him, eagerly, obediently. She glistened in the low-lighting of the room and you heard him inhale. He leaned closer to her and began kitten-licking between your folds, sending a shockwave through your core. She clenched uncontrollably, tightening. James paused to observe, pleased with the reaction. He’d done so little, and you were already a mess. Placing his hands behind your knees, he scooted you further towards him.

Your cunt ached with everything he did; from the gentle touches to the way that his moustache tickled the soft skin of your inner thigh. You weren’t used to your heart beating this quickly outside of killing someone. He was making you feel things you’d long since forgotten.

To say that you never experienced sexual pleasure would be a lie; you did. Usually, covered in blood and panting, after a kill, your body and senses would be so wound up that you’d finger yourself, use a vibrator, something to get yourself off. But this orgasm, you knew, would be different. And much quicker.

With a breath, he flattened his tongue against your cunt, lapping at it hungrily. Your muscles all trembled, the first hint of an orgasm clawing at your insides. And just before you did, he pulled away. Cruelly. Mercilessly. As though he knew that he had you under his spell…. Oh, you’d kill him if he’d only let you.

James slipped two fingers inside your waiting, wet cunt. You let out a desperate yelp, rocking your hips back and forth to meet his fingers. Electricity coursed through your core, your body quivering again. His fingers drilled into you, curling upwards with each thrust, hitting your sensitive spot. The pressure increased, the coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter around itself. You were close.

“Speak to me,” he ordered. “Use your voice.”

You swallowed, wetting your throat. It was frightfully hard to form words, your mind was too clouded with arousal and ecstasy. “C-can’t…. Feels…. So good….”

James leaned forward again, the tip of his tongue drilling into your sensitive clit, twirling at it. After a moment, he encircled your clit with his lips, sucking softly. You were sweet, wet and singing for him. James hummed into your pussy, satisfied. With his fingers still thrusting inside you, the overstimulation was too much. Your coil snapped, and your hands flew to his hair, making tight fists in the greased locks.

As you orgasmed, you called his name, chanting it over and over again like a prayer. He was there, between your legs, tugging you over the edge with whispered praises against your throbbing cunt. An attentive lover, James didn’t stop fucking you – or licking at you – until the final pulse subsided.

“Now that I’ve made you mine,” he said, straightening up. “Let’s deal with your little hobby, my dear.”

Made you his? You thought, chewing on the corner of your lip, as your eyes bored into his. How dare he – made you his. Despite feeling like you’d been bamboozled, you knew it was true. He’d made you his, and barred you from loving any other man again.

A knock at the door. You looked down at Stephen – you’d almost forgotten he was there. James got to his feet as the door opened, and you noticed that his cock had tented in his trousers, pulling against the fabric, begging for release. You gasped, looking at the woman as she entered. She was pushing a silver room service cart, though it was empty.

“Fret not my dear, it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before.”

You furrowed your brows; his erection or a corpse in a hotel room? You weren’t sure which. Effortlessly, James hoisted Stephen’s expired body up onto the cart, waving his hand dismissively towards the woman, who hmm’d curtly, and made her way back towards the door.

“Follow me,” he said, jovially as he headed towards the open door. He began whistling a tune, as though wheeling a body out into the hallway was the most normal, routine thing he’d done all day. Perhaps it was. You heaved a breath, and got up off the bed, pulling your underwear back up.

“James, James, wait!”

He paused.

“Aren’t you going to… well…”

His eyes followed yours to his groin, which was still stiff. You sucked on your bottom lip, looking up at him with come-hither eyes. Curiosity had gotten the best of you. Despite having just come, you wanted more, and you desperately wanted to know what the weight of his cock felt like in your hands.

“Oh.” He smiled, pleased. With a slow nod, he reached forward to cup your chin with his large hands. “I’ll get mine.”

#James Patrick March #James March #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x reader #James Patrick March smut #ahs hotel #ahs smut #myfics #requests

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underoossss · 2 years ago

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Tell me – Miguel O’Hara

pairing: jealous!miguel ohara x f!reader

warnings: none

an: had a lot of fun writing this, pls laugh with me when you see the little crossover I included lol. anyway, have some pining!miguel that gets jealous when he learns something from your mission and a pining spiderwoman who gets on his nerves

masterlist

—-

“So, there you have it guys, another fun adventure for Spider-Sting.” You say as you step back into the Society, a rogue Scorpion trapped next to you and your phone help up high to frame the two of you. The displeased villain rolls his eyes and you laugh. “Bye!”

A frustrated groan comes from your watch a second later, and you smile knowing who it belongs to. You shoot a web towards the trap and hold it over your shoulder, dragging the Scorpion behind you on your way to Miguel’s lab. “Let me guess,” You say, pocketing your phone and knowing what Miguel’s going to say next.

“No social media use while on duty.”

“Live a little, babe.” You smile, taking your mask off and waving at Webslinger when you spot him dropping off a villain of his own. “Hosting a live while working won’t hurt anybody.”

The Scorpion is taken away by Margo to be sent back home when Miguel speaks again. “It can hurt you.”

“Aw, Miguelito. You do care about me!” You smile at one of his cameras, hand over your heart, as you pass by on your way to his lab. “Anyway, I gotta tell you something. You’re not busy, are you?”

“When has that ever stopped you?” Miguel’s voice gives away the likely eyeroll he’s giving you through one of his glowing orange screens. “You need to file your report anyway.”

“Say, here’s a suggestion,” You start, grinning widely when Miguel’s no comes from both your watch and above you once you’re in his office. Feigning being upset you mutter, “You didn’t let me finish.”

“I’m not filing your report, pulguita.” Miguel says, not looking at you but lowering his platform so you can step on it. As always the yellow and orange glow of the screens bathe him in their light, making it hard not to stare at his handsome features. The bridge of his nose, his bottom lip, the sharp edge of his cheekbones.

“Worth a shot.” You tell him as you stand next to him and sit on a free spot over his desk. Your friend turns slightly towards you, sending an amused look your way before he goes back to typing away on a keyboard. It’s his way of saying go on, so you do.

“Anyway! The mission started off alright, the bastard almost got me –can you believe he wasn’t amused by my jokes? I mean what are odds he has a stinger and he’s fighting someone calling herself the Spider-Sting– whatever, the thing is I had it like 70%–”

“Seventy huh?”

“Hush! 70% under control and this dude shows up out of nowhere, white suit with like gold moons what worked just like boomerangs? He tries to kill my villain!” You throw your hands up in exasperation at the memory.

“Uh-huh, so what did you do? You brought the Scorpion back with you, so you must have won.” Miguel is still looking at whatever he’s messing with on the computer, tsk-ing every time he messes something up. His tone holds something like fondness mixed with pride, it makes your whole body warm.

“So, I had to tell him, I have to take this guy with me, and he goes I can’t let you do that.” You continue, hopping off the desk and walking to Miguel’s other side. When you lean over to look at his face he looks down, eyes meeting yours briefly, waiting for whatever you’re going to say next. “Babe, he sounded just like you! I’m not even joking; I got it on video ‘cause I was live –as you reprimanded me for– but Lyla can tell you!”

“It’s true.” Lyla blinks into existence over Miguel’s shoulder, messing around with her phone for a moment before smiling teasingly at her boss. “He was all: sweetheart, I don’t care if I sound like your boyfriend, and Sting went–”

“What?” Miguel pauses his typing and turns to look at you. “What did he say?”

“I didn’t tell him you’re my boyfriend.” You wave him off, crossing your arms and looking away; your defenses go up immediately. Despite all your teasing and flirting, the last thing you want is for Miguel to find out about your dumb crush on him. Dumb in the sense that he’s never going to feel the same. “He just assumed you were–”

“He called you sweetheart?” Miguel asks, voice low and turning back to his screens.

“Well yeah, I–” You stop yourself short, glancing over at the tall man in front of you and taking in his stance.

Miguel’s hands are clenched into fists on either side of him, his neck muscles tense from whatever he’s feeling. Both his brows are pressed together in the middle of his forehead and his full lips are pulled down in an upset frown. In a moment, your body lights up as hope settles on your chest. Is he?

“Are you jealous?” You ask slowly, dragging out the word as you tilt your head.

“I think he is.” Lyla blinks in front of Miguel’s face, laying on her stomach, chin on her palm.

“Lyla.” Miguel grumbles which causes her to go away, out of mercy you’re sure. “I’m not jealous.”

“Hmm.” You scoot closer to him, letting your hands fall to your sides. Curious to see where this goes, and because you can’t help yourself, you exaggerate the end of your story. “Anyway, he was really flirty, but I distracted him enough that I captured the Scorpion and came back here before he could give me his number.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes betray his emotions when he meets your gaze. He’s incredulous at your retelling of your adventure, but even more so outraged at your last words. His mouth is still twisted in a sneer, though at what you don’t know.

“What’s the problem? The fact that he called me sweetheart or something else?” You place your hands on your hips, done teasing and very curious. “You call me nicknames all the time.”

“They’re not nicknames.” Miguel tells you before he can stop himself and looks away when he realizes his mistake. “I’m busy. Go file your report.”

“Oh, not nicknames, then what are they?” You don’t back down, rolling your eyes when he turns his back to you. “That’s it you’re going to be annoyed out of jealousy? I flirt with you all the time.”

“That’s different and you know it.” Miguel says turning around, eyes scanning your face and the surprise that you actually got a reaction out of him.

“I don’t think I do. Why is it different?” You don’t back down walking into his space and looking up at him — damn him for being so tall. If he’s going to act like being hit on (which didn’t really happen, bless his heart) is such a problem for him he has to tell you why. For selfish reasons, you hope it’s because he likes you. “Tell me.”

Miguel looks down at you, his eyes boring into yours in a way that makes your next breath stutter. They’re still guarded but less so than before, and the sliver of emotion he lets through when he’s with you, grows the tiniest bit to show hesitation and nerves. The easy smile you were sporting falters, and your lips drop open slightly when you realize how close your faces are. When did Miguel lean so close to you? Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, and you panic.

“Or don’t.” You back down, shaking your head as you wonder if this was a good idea after all. You decide to lie through your nerves. “I’m just teasing you.”

As you begin to turn your face to put some space between you, Miguel’s hand goes up to your cheek to keep your gaze on him. “They’re not nicknames. I’ve been calling you endearments.” He murmurs, voice low as he looks down at you. “Just like you.”

“You mean, you’ve been flirting with me?” You ask breathlessly, your mind trying to compute what the man in front of you —who you never imagined liking you back— is saying. When he nods in an almost reluctant confession, you roll your eyes. “Then that’s the worst flirt—”

You’re cut short by Miguel’s lips pressing onto yours, effectively shutting you up with a world altering brush of lips. Then as if that wasn’t clear enough for you, he murmurs Shut up before leaning in and kissing you again, a real kiss this time. His hand on your cheek goes to the back of your head and your sighs are exchanged into each other’s mouths when they leave you in a rush. You’re surprised to find the same painful yearning you’ve been harboring for months in Miguel. It’s obvious in the way he deepens the kiss, the way he gathers you into his arms and pulls you closer, in the way his tongue tastes your mouth and leaves you dizzy.

“You were jealous then.” You say when you part momentarily, brushing the tip of your nose against Miguel’s.

“Yes.” Miguel confesses begrudgingly, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“A waste of time.” You shake your head fondly, looking at him with a healthy dose of unrestrained adoration and attraction. “The guy assumed you were my boyfriend, and you know why?”

Miguel kisses the corner of your mouth and lingers there like he doesn’t want to part. His affection is hitting your system like a shot of adrenaline to the chest, you feel drunk on it. “Dime.”

“I couldn’t stop talking about you.” You smile, leaning in to kiss him again. “I think half the audience in my live already guessed I like you.”

“Half the society too.” Lyla pops up next to you, holding up a phone and taking a selfie with you. “Some of which are coming to your lab right now, so…”

You take a step back from Miguel, beaming at the conflicted look on his face. “Do you mind if I file my report here? I assume you’re not busy.”

“Wouldn’t matter if I was, princesa.” Is all he says before he pulls up some feed on his computers, getting ready to brief the Spider People on a new mission. You move to sit on the desk next to him, and smile when his hand squeezes your thigh affectionately.

—-

Let me know if you liked this! Reblogs are appreciated 🥹 motivate an unmotivated writer ✨

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pulguita - ok taken literally it's a flea, but it's an endearment like lovebug for those who are short hence why miguel uses it.

dime - tell me

princesa - princess

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#miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x fem!reader

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