#curse you plot thin fic! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imaginedisish · 6 months ago

Text

Liquid Smooth (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Started writing this last night...sooo happy you guys wanted a sex pollen fic! Hope it lives up to everyone's expectations! This one is (obviously) inspired by "Liquid Smooth," by Mitski. ENJOY!

Summary: A simple mission deep in a forest alone with Logan quickly gets out of hand when you just have to go and pick a flower...

Warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), Sex Pollen (so dub!con just to be safe, but not really), Multiple orgasms, Porn Without Plot...literally, implied!age gap, cursing, friends to lovers, fem!reader/afab!reader, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,797 muahaha

“I don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” you murmur as Logan thumbs through the controls of the X-Jet. “Could’ve done this by myself.”

Logan scoffs. “I’m not your babysitter, princess.” You roll your eyes at the nickname Logan has specially reserved just for you. “Charles said we’d be safer going together. He knows you can handle yourself.”

The X-Jet cruises effortlessly through the clouds. The air is still today. Calm. You and Logan are on your way to get some sort of flower that Charles claims to have extensive healing properties. It’s an easy mission. No fighting. No violence. You’re unlikely to have to use your powers at all. And yet, you’ve been paired with Logan.

It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t—admittedly—a little into him. Or rather, pining after him. There’s just something about the sarcasm that’s always thick in his voice; the way he squeezes himself into those thin beaters. How he’s always so self-assured, so thoroughly convinced he’s right. You just can’t help it. You want him. But he isn’t yours, and he probably never will be. He’s a little older—well, a lot, considering he’s been around forever. And you know it’s safer not to make attachments—not to fall in love.

Unfortunately, it’s a little too late for that.

But having him here with you now, alone, with no buffers…it’s overwhelming. You can smell him—that mix of tobacco and pine and musk and him. He’s suddenly everywhere, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You watch as his long fingers press different buttons, his hands gripping the steering wheel, adjusting thrusters. You stare at those fingers for far too long, your thoughts drifting to what else he can do with them. You think about him curling them deep inside you, stretching you open and—

“Everything okay?” You snap your head to face Logan, swallowing harshly as his voice pulls you back to reality.

You force a smile, nodding. “Yep!” You say, overcompensating just a bit. “All good,” you lie. You close your eyes, trying to push thoughts of Logan out of your head, denying the heat growing between your legs.

“Good, because we’re almost there,” Logan says, the X-Jet descending carefully. You look out the window to see the trees below. There’s a lake in the distance, but that’s it. No civilization, no houses—no one. It’s empty, peaceful.

“We’re really in the middle of nowhere, huh?” You say, glancing at Logan.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles. Warmth blooms in your heart at the sight. “My kind of place,” he says back. The X-Jet descends further as you approach a clear spread of grass to land on just ahead.

This is, in fact, not your kind of place. The humidity creeps up your back and settles under your skin. The forest is overgrown and impossible to navigate. You let Logan slice through the plant life with his claws, swiping back and forth whenever something gets in your way.

You haven’t been walking for long, but you’re already done. Perhaps Charles was right; a partner is not the worst idea on a mission like this.

You can see the flower just ahead—yellow petals and a long, green, viny stem. It glows brightly even under the dense forest canopy. “Semper in tenebris lux,” Charles had said; there is always light in darkness. And he was right. The flower illuminates everything in its path. Next to it, you can see a pretty, lavender-colored flower. You stop in your tracks, letting Logan wander ahead as you crouch down to stroke the purple petals.

“Charles didn’t say anything about not taking other flowers too, right?” You call out, watching as Logan swipes carefully at the stem of the yellow flower. He holds the dainty stem in his large hands as he walks back over to you.

“No, he didn’t. But you should be careful. It could be poisonous or—”

You ignore Logan, picking the flower anyway. You hold it up to your nose and breathe in. It’s sweet and fragrant. You twist the stem and realize the flower is sticky with sap and pollen. Your twist shakes some of the pollen up, and it lands all over your face.

“Shit,” you mutter, wiping it away. A gust of wind sweeps through the forest, knocking the flower out of your hand and spreading more of its pollen in the air. You can feel it in your nostrils, getting caught in your throat.

Logan furrows his brows as the pollen falls to the ground. “What the fuck did you do?”

You roll your eyes. “All I did was pick a flower!” You lift your hands, feigning innocence. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You stand up, glancing once at the yellow flower in Logan’s hands and then back at Logan. “It’s pretty.”

He parts his lips, his stare focused on you. “Yeah, it is.” There’s something else in that stare, in those words. Like maybe he isn’t only talking about the flower. You shove those thoughts down as you turn around and walk back to the jet.

Your steps are suddenly very heavy. You scratch at your shoulder. Heat blooms in your chest, your stomach, across your face. You’re irritated and overheated and itchy. Your breath grows heavier and rougher with every step.

Logan notices immediately. He stops, grabbing your arm. You can’t control the way you lean into his touch, nor the way you’re craving more. “Hey,” he soothes, eyes searching your face. “Are you okay?” There’s a hint of panic in his voice.

You swallow harshly, nodding. Your throat feels thick, your skin tight and oppressive. “’M’fine,” you mumble.

“Quit lying. I can tell something’s wrong,” Logan demands. You open your mouth to persuade him otherwise, but he doesn’t give you the chance, his grip tightening around your arm. “Your skin is on fucking fire, princess. What did you do?” He cocks his head, sniffing as he furrows his brows. His voice is darker now, slower as his eyes widen. “What the fuck did you do?”

You take in a sharp breath. And that’s when you feel it, the ache between your thighs, the slick arousal soaking through your panties. The realization smacks you in the face. For a moment, you’re clear-headed, but still terrified. The pollen. That goddamn, fucking pollen. “Logan, look, I think that purple flower had some—"

He cuts you off as he yanks your arm, tugging you towards the ship. “We need to get you back to the jet, okay?”

“Oh, I am so fucked,” you cry. You know you only have a few seconds left before the effects really kick in. “L-Logan,” you stutter, almost moaning as your core burns stronger with need. “T-the pollen was everywhere. What if you got some too?”

He ignores you, handing you the yellow flower you came here for in the first place. He sweeps one hand under your legs and keeps the other at your back as he lifts you in his arms—bridal style. You can feel his heart beating in his chest. You lean into him again, searching for relief. Wetness pools between your legs. You have never felt this needy before. Your desire hurts, burns, scorches you. You rut your hips, clenching down around nothing.

“S-stop doing that,” Logan spits, restrained and quiet.

“C-can’t,” you whine. “It hurts, Logan. It hurts so fucking bad. How come you aren’t like this too?”

He pulls you tighter to his chest. “I feel a little something, but that might just…”

You tilt your head up to look at him. He works his jaw, that perfect jaw. You want to bite it, to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “Might just be what?” You ask, tentatively brushing your lips against the hollow of his throat.

“Nothing, just—fuck,” he groans as you press soft, open-mouthed kisses all around his neck now. “Don’t do that, princess. You don’t want this.”

“But I do, Logan,” you beg. The ramp to the jet lowers as you and Logan approach. “N-need you.” You bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in. “Need y-you all the time.” The confession slips easily from your lips.

Logan’s eyes widen as he walks up the ramp and into the ship. It lifts and seals shut behind him. “You don’t mean that, sweetheart. Let’s just get you back to the mansion as quickly as possible, yeah?”

He places you down on the seat next to him, taking the flower from your hands and putting it in the jar Charles had given you. The leather cold at your back almost feels good, almost relieving—until you realize Logan is no longer holding you, touching you. You reach out towards him, grabbing his arms, pulling him back in. “Don’t go,” you plead, nails digging into his biceps. Your body is on fire. Everything is unbearably painful. “Please,” you whimper. “Need you so fucking bad, just you.”

“Fuck,” Logan curses. “I am not taking advantage of you. I am not doing this.” He stands, freeing himself from your grasp and walking over to the pilot’s chair. “I’m getting you back to the mansion and we’re going to fix this, okay?”

But that’s not good enough for you. You stand up and walk over to Logan. Your steps are shaky, your legs trembling. Your chest heaves, your heart beating rapidly. You climb into Logan’s lap, straddling him, one leg on either side. “Logan, I can’t fucking wait,” you cry, grinding down onto his lap. The pressure feels delicious. He grabs your hips, stilling you, forcing you in place. And that’s when you feel it: his erection, hard underneath your core. “This isn’t you. You don’t really want this, don’t really want m—”

“It is me,” you protest, squirming against his hold. “Logan, I’ve wanted you for months. I-I was thinking about you t-touching me the whole way here.” You remember the way his fingers dexterously pushed all the right buttons. Need courses through you like a river, and as Logan’s hold on your hips softens, you grind down into his lap, against his erection. “S-so good,” you cry out.

His hands are still on your hips, but now he’s guiding you, rocking you against his cock. “J-just this though, okay?”

You hum, pressing your forehead to his, rolling your hips faster. The relief is like heaven. His arms wrap around your back, his fingers trailing up and down soothingly. Logan ruts into you, his erection straining against his jeans. You can feel yourself getting closer, but the pain, the need, it’s all still the same.

“Logan, it’s not gonna be enough,” you whisper, his lips ghosting yours. “N-need more. Hurts so bad.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, like he’s scared to truly touch you. But he wants to consume your pain, to take it away, to feel it for you. You can see it written across his face, in the way his cock throbs against your swollen clit, how he snaps his hips into yours.

“I know, princess,” he coos, his hands like fire on your back. Your walls contract around nothing, begging for something to hold onto, to feel something sink deep inside. “Gonna take care of you.” He kisses you again, with more vigor this time, more passion. “I’ve got you, darlin’.”

You moan into his mouth. His composure is slipping, disintegrating with every roll, every rock of your hips against his. His cock notches against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure up the base of your spine. He hikes your shirt up, the cold air hitting your overheated skin. “F-feels good,” you stammer. You’re almost there, almost hitting that peak. “S-so close.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes. “Let go for me, know you can do it.”

You moan his name, your orgasm crashing into you like a crescendo. You know you’re soaking through your clothes, and probably onto Logan’s too. He’s still rutting against you, giving you more. He knows it’s not going to be enough, and he’s right. Need builds back up just as quickly as you found your release.

“Lo…” you trail off, looking up at him under lust-filled eyes. You swallow harshly, squirming in his lap helplessly. “G-gotta have you.”

He presses his forehead to yours. He works his jaw, parting his lips. “Y-you meant it when you said you wanted me before this?” But he already knows the answer. He knows you wouldn’t lie to him about that, not even now.

“Yes,” you whine, pulling him closer. He tugs your shirt all the way over your head and picks you up, hands firmly gripping your ass. “Still gonna want you after this, too.”

He curses under his breath as he places you down in the pilot’s chair. He’s frenzied and frantic as he hooks his thumbs into your pants and panties, yanking them down your legs and casting them to the side.

He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands, his thumbs brushing soft circles into your inner thighs. He’s kneeling, looking up at you. Your breath catches in your throat as his face settles between your legs.

“Could smell you before, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning over your clit. “Wanted this so fucking bad.” He doesn’t keep you waiting, licking a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “Knew you’d taste perfect. Pretty fucking pussy.”

You throw your head back as his lips latch onto your clit, sucking harshly. He slips one hand across your back, keeping you close. His free hand climbs up your thigh, fingers exploring your folds as his tongue flits across your swollen bud. He spreads your arousal, prodding against your entrance before shoving two fingers deep inside you. “Logan!” You cry out, your walls clenching around him. He’s stretching you out, his fingers dragging inside you. He pulls out and plunges back in. He isn’t taking his time, isn’t teasing. He’s giving you what you need, pump after pump.

You look down at him, his face buried in your cunt, consuming you, swallowing you whole like a starving man. He’s lost inside you, lapping at you with unwavering hunger and desire. His tongue swirls around your clit, his teeth grazing ever so slightly. You moan his name again, and he hums against you, the vibrations of his bassy voice rocking through your body. He’s wrecking you, but it feels so goddamn good.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he goads you along. He’s adding a third finger now, and you suck him in. You’d take anything he gives you, anything at all. “Doing so good for me, taking it so well.”

He sucks roughly, your walls clenching around him at the feeling. “Yeah?” He grunts, sucking again. “You like that? Feels good?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, stumbling over that one simple word. “S-so fucking good.”

“I know, beautiful,” he groans, nipping at your clit in between his rough sucks. “Gonna make that hurt go away, okay?” His voice is like honey, sugar; it’s sweet, addictive. “You just gotta come for me again, can you do that?” His tongue strokes your clit, his fingers pumping faster now.

You nod your head emphatically, pleasure surging as you near your peak. “Yeah, I-I can,” you huff.

Logan smiles against your cunt between rough laps. “I know you can, sweetheart.” His fingers scissor inside you, deeper than before. He takes your clit between his lips again, sucking hard.

And that’s all it takes—you’re screaming his name, coming undone, unraveling underneath him. The release is even better than the first, more full, more complete. Logan thrusts in and out a few more times before slowly pulling his fingers from your cunt. He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up into your eyes.

For a moment, the fire inside has been quenched. You feel clear, levelheaded. But it doesn’t last long. “Fuck,” you moan, your head hitting against the headrest of the chair. The fire is back, spreading across your stomach, your chest. “Logan,” you whimper. “I n-need more.”

“It’s okay, pretty girl,” he coos, taking you back up into his arms. He hoists you out of the seat, his hands finding your ass, squeezing softly. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you across the jet, setting you down on a storage container.

You bring your hands up to his biceps. “Need you this time, Lo,” you choke, stroking up and down his arms as the heat builds painfully between your thighs.

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes searching yours.

“Always wanted you, always sure,” you whisper, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist.

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Wanted you too,” he husks. “But I wanted it to be different, to—” You cut him off. “Just want you. It’s okay like this. I promise.” You grind against him, his erection still straining inside the denim of his jeans.

He takes the hint, and quickly unbuckles his belt, casting the leather to the metal floor with a clunk. He’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, shoving them down his legs, and lining himself up with your entrance. You push your hips forward, giving him better access. His other hand pushes your bra above your breasts, exposing you completely to him.

With one hand on his cock and one squeezing your tits gently, he thrusts himself into you. He’s so deep—down to the hilt��stretching you out and working you open. He groans, flicking your nipple with his thumb, his lips at the shell of your ear. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine, quenching that fire inside. “So warm, so tight.” He pulls out and plunges back in again, filling you up.

“Lo,” you whine. “More.”

“I know,” he growls, his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out with every thrust. “Gonna take care of you, pretty girl.” He squeezes your tits once more before sliding his hand down your body and slipping between where the two of you connect. His fingers find your clit, drawing rough circles around the bud. “That feel good, beautiful?”

“Y-yes, Logan, so fucking good,” you cry out as he rocks into you. His other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you in place. You hope there’s a bruise there later—proof that he touched you, proof that he fucked into you like the world was ending.

His cock rubs against your walls, your muscles contracting around him, sucking him in deeper. “Squeezing me so good, sweetheart,” he praises, his lips crashing down onto yours, swallowing your moans. He’s taking all of you, hard and fast. You can feel him twitching inside you, throbbing with the same need you feel pulsing through your veins.

Logan kisses your jaw, and then just underneath, biting down on your pulse point. You arch your back, your chest meeting his. The contact is delicious, the friction a necessity. He thrusts into you faster now, doing his all to satiate your every need. He’s getting you there, pump after pump, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time.

It’s working. You can feel yourself slipping again, melting. “Logan,” you hum, too fucked out to say anything other than his name. That beautiful name, like a song in the air, a gentle prayer, a holy ghost. He’s all you need—all you’ve ever needed.

Your walls contract, squeezing him tightly. “Fuck,” he mutters. You know he’s close too. He strokes your clit, circling roughly. “Come on, pretty girl. You can do it, let me get you there again.”

“Lo,” you cry, your eyes fluttering open and shut as he fucks into you, rutting his hips, plunging deeper still. It’s all too much. You can feel the pleasure drumming inside you, coming to a head.

Logan loosens his grip on your hip and slides his hand behind your back, pulling you into his chest. You rest your forehead against his. “Come on my cock, princess, let go.” And you do. You’d do anything for him. You moan as your orgasm tears through you. It’s all blinding white heat, liquid smooth, pleasure wracking your body.

Logan curses under his breath, close behind. He pulses inside you once, and then he’s coming undone. Your arms wrap around his back, keeping him close, letting him know it’s okay to finish inside. He fills you up, whispering praises in your ear as you both come down from your high. Such a good fucking girl. Did so good for me. So fucking good. Perfect little pussy.

He’s still inside you, pumping slowly as you ride out your orgasm. His fingers let go of your clit, his hands running up your back and tugging you closer to him. He slowly pulls out, keeping you tight against his chest.

“Are you okay?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. You take a deep breath, waiting for the heat to build again, waiting for that need to surge every cell of your being. But there’s nothing. Your nerves are suddenly quiet—silent.

“I-I think it’s over,” you stutter, still nervous that maybe it’s not. He keeps you there, holding you tightly, ready to start again if necessary.

After a few minutes, you let yourself relax. It’s not coming back. It’s over.

Logan presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head. “I’ve still got you. Not going anywhere.” Your heart rate has finally slowed down. The heat is gone. You feel comfortable in your skin again. You take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into Logan’s chest.

“Nothing to be sorry for, princess,” Logan reassures, his voice gentle and soft. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You nod against him, but you still feel a sting in your heart. You need to make him know that you meant what you said—need him to know exactly how you feel. You swallow nervously, ready to bite the bullet.

“Logan,” you breathe. “I-I meant everything I said. It wasn’t just the pollen.” You pull yourself from his chest, looking up at him. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you…” you trail off. “S-still need you now. Nothing’s changed.”

He smiles down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know, darlin’,” he husks. “I wanted you before, and I still do, too.”

“I know you wanted it to be different. I know it wasn’t—” But he cuts you off, his lips capturing yours, quieting your anxious rambles. “We’ll have other chances. Other times to do it the way I want.” He smirks, running his hands up and down your back.

Other chances. Other times. More. More. More. “Yeah?” You ask.

“Yeah, princess.”

tags: @wolviesgirl @dojacatswink @dilf420 @spiderset @pleasantlycrazyworld @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @y-ns-things

6K notes · View notes

gojorgeous · 1 year ago

Text

“heatwaves”

pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!fem!reader summary: when a work trip takes you to japan, the last thing you expect is a heatwave... and some guy with blue eyes? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, a/b/o dynamics, no established relationship, dubcon (i feel like it’s always kinda dubcon with a/b/o), p->v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, marking, spit, praise, swearing, pet names (baby/sweetheart/princess), brief mention/implication of pregnancy, knotting, reader gets picked up, reader is american, reader is unaware of their omega status, reader experiences their first heat, reader and satoru “bond” without having a fully conscious conversation, reader and satoru are early twenties. a/n: it's here! somebody spay me. by popular demand i have written alpha!gojo for you all… just a classic reader goes into an accidental heat at work and (x) character happens to be the nearest alpha LMAO. this is entirely uncreative, but i love it for that!!! straight smut with a little plot if you squint hard enough! i hope it lives up to your expectations. find my alpha!geto fic here and find the list of my 1k event fics here. enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. wc: 5k

Nobody ever told you that Japan was so damn hot.

Hot was not what came to mind when you’d heard you’d be taking a trip to Tokyo. Temples? Sure. Mt. Fuji? Great. Hot? No fucking way.

But, here you were, boiling away under the sun on what you’d thought would be a fun little work trip. Instead, you were just suffering with every step, trying to listen to what Principal Yaga was saying and failing miserably.

“These are the sparring courts. No students right now, but they’ll start training within the hour.”

You rub at the back of your neck, cringing when your palm comes away coated with a thin layer of sweat. Gross.

You lift your eyes to the sky, wondering how much longer this was going to take. Your little trip to Japan was to organize an exchange program with Jujutsu Tech. Your students had been begging to take a trip to Tokyo, to where their cursed energy would be closer to the source and, consequently, stronger. You had to admit, it was a good idea. A few months spent training here in Japan would do them good. From the moment you’d set foot on Japanese soil, your power had thrummed faster in your veins than ever before.

Principal Yaga was giving you a tour of the grounds and had sealed your horrible fate when he’d decided to start outside. You barely heard a word the man said. New York was never this hot…

“Are you alright?” You blink, fanning your face as best you can. It provides no relief. God, it felt like the heat was penetrating your fucking bones…

When your eyes slide to Principal Yaga, you’re surprised to see that he looks genuinely concerned. “Y-yeah.” You blink again, shocked by your own stutter. Maybe you were coming down with something? “I’m fine, just not used to this kind of heat, I guess.” You fan your face again and clench your jaw when it still does nothing.

Yaga’s brows furrow and you see him glance around, like he’ll find said heat standing next to him. How was he wearing so many layers?

“How about we head inside and take a break, then? We can continue the tour… later.” You nearly fall to the ground and kiss his feet. Air conditioning is truly God's gift to man…

You smile and it’s all genuine. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

Yaga nods, but you think his eyes linger on you for just a beat too long before he turns. He still looks confused… or maybe flustered? That only leaves you confused.

You follow after him, each step feeling like you’re sinking deep into cement. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying to get some ventilation. When you finally reach the building you nearly sigh with relief. Air conditioning… that’ll be good. Just what you need. A few minutes inside and you’ll be good to go. You’ll just have to remember not to wear so many damn layers again when you continue the tour.

You’re smiling as you step inside, so ready for relief that you’re practically shaking– but relief never comes. Your brows furrow. You brush your arm through the air. It… doesn’t help. It’s strange– you can feel the coolness of the air conditioning, feel it gliding up and across your skin, but the heat doesn’t subside, doesn’t so much as lessen.

“I trust you know how to find anything you might–” Yaga clears his throat. “Need?”

Your brows furrow. He’d shown you all the school’s resources last night and your room was already stocked with food, toiletries, and every other thing you could possibly need. Of course you knew where everything was…

“Yes… Thank you.”

Yaga shifts so uncomfortably you think that maybe he’s about to pee his pants. “Right, well, you have my contact information. Let me know if I can be of assistance in connecting you to any… resources.”

You’re more confused now than you were at the start of this conversation. “Right…”

“Take care.”

Yaga shoots you one last– worried?- glance and stalks down the hall. You’re left wondering what the hell is happening in his mind and why he seemed so desperate to offer you resources?

You blink, clearing your mind as best you can, but some sort of fog seems to be settling over your consciousness. Definitely coming down with something, you think.

You make your way through the halls, steps still feeling suspiciously heavy and heat still radiating off your body. A cold shower. That’ll help. Or so you thought. The further you walk, the more each hallway starts to look like the next. Was it left or right next? Was this hallway always a dead end? Since when was there a bathroom there?

You’re leaning against the wall now, panting. Something is pooling in your gut, something warm and far too intense. Your inner thighs are wet, too. You want to convince yourself it’s sweat, but… you’re horny. More horny than you’ve ever been in your whole damn life. You think you might die if you don’t get some dick in the next ten minutes. What the fuck?

You slide yourself into the next room you see: an empty classroom. Thank fucking god. You grab the back of a chair, hands shaking with how hard you’re gripping the wood. You take a deep breath. You need to get a hold of yourself, need to figure out what the fuck is happening to you.

You swallow and try your best to think. It’s not without difficulty. Your head feels like somebody’s filled it with glue. It takes a minute for a coherent thought to come through, but when it does, you think it’s a good one. Doctor.

Yes– you don’t feel well, so obviously a doctor is the correct choice, right? You scramble for your phone in your back pocket but freeze when the brush of your own hand against your ass sends a jolt up your spine. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Carefully, you extract your phone from your pocket, but it’s too difficult to even remember your fucking passcode. You press your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the overwhelming ache that’s forming between your legs. Something is definitely wrong.

You fumble with your phone, but your hands are shaking so hard it just tumbles to the floor.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck?”

“Yo, who’s baking cookies in here without me?”

Your head snaps up and, with some difficulty, your eyes settle on a… man. You suck in a breath. He’s… dazzling. He’s wearing all black, but it’s not a student uniform. One of the teachers that you’ve yet to meet, then. White hair and pale skin contrasts against his clothes, but his eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses set low on his nose. Even in your delirious state you still have the wherewithal to wonder who the fuck wears sunglasses inside.

You get a quick look at him before a wave of intense- fuck, desire?- washes over you. You tremble again and shock yourself when a whimper tumbles from your lips.

“Oh, shit,” you hear him say. You glance at him from the corner of your eye and watch him inhale again– deeply. His lips part. “Oh, shit.”

You clench your jaw and tighten your grip on your chair. Your legs are shaking now– you can barely stand. You squeak pitifully.

The second the sound leaves your throat you hear footsteps– rapid, hurried, concerned, ones. Warm hands clasp your waist and you cry out at the touch, electricity sparking on your skin.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He turns you gently to face him, hands steadying your swaying body. “Who the fuck left you alone in here?” His hand is rubbing soothing circles on your lower back now and you think you’ve never felt something so good in your life. It’s so good that you almost miss what he said. Almost.

“W-What?” You see his brows furrow as you peek up at him. At this angle you can see under his sunglasses. His eyes are blue. Really fucking blue. You think he might be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, even with the expression of… anger?- that he’s currently wearing.

“Whoever he is, I'll kill him.”

That makes you blink. An extra sliver of clarity opens in your brain. “What are you talking about?”

He tugs you a little closer, wrapping an arm fully around your waist and pressing you up against him. You try to ignore the fact that you love it, that you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and climb him like a fucking tree.

“What idiot leaves an omega going into heat?” He’s glaring at the doorway like he’s torn between staying here with you and running after said idiot to pommel him into the ground.

“‘M not an omega.” The words are out before you’ve even stopped to consider them. It’s true. You’re not an omega. You’re a beta. You’ve always been a beta. You’ve got the little “B” on your ID card to prove it. You were tested at birth, just like everyone else, and even if you really were an omega you would have presented years ago.

He only glances down at you and snorts. “Funny, sweetheart.” His hand is still rubbing those little circles into your back and it’s enough to make that fogginess in your mind grow a little thicker.

But your fear, your uncertainty outways your instinct. You pound a weak fist against his chest, not to push him away, but to get his attention. He’s still glaring at the doorway like he wants to murder it.

“‘M serious,” you gasp. “I’m a beta… I don’... know whas’ happenin’… to me.” Each word is a tremendous effort to form. Your tongue seems to have lost its ability to do anything but hang limply.

That gets his attention. He lifts a hand, gently brushing your hair back from your eyes and then cupping your jaw. “Is this your first heat?”

You find yourself leaning into his touch despite the fact that you’ve only known him for thirty seconds. Your eyelids flutter. “N-Not a heat… jus’ feel… sick.”

His brows furrow again, deeper this time, and he shakes his head. “How old are you?”

You know why he asks. Most omegas present around eighteen or nineteen. “Older than… nineteen…” You try to laugh, but it only comes out as a whimper.

That answer only serves to make him push closer. You feel his hand trailing down your neck, skimming gently over the skin until he reaches a spot you hadn't even realized was so… sore. You keen at the touch. Fuck, no. There was no way. You had swollen fucking scent glands.

You try to push away, but he pulls you in, burying his face in your neck. You shudder when he groans. “You smell like a damn bakery exploded,” he chuckles, and the sound is muffled by your skin. When he pulls away he makes it look like the action is physically painful. He cups your face again. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re an omega. If this is your first heat then…” he swallows and your eyes track the bob of his throat. “You’re just a late bloomer, baby.”

You shake your head desperately. It’s just the stupid heatwave. It’s just… hot outside… right?

You try to think about how this could be possible. It could be that the test you took as a baby was wrong… it happened sometimes. It was rare, but it happened. But if you were an omega, what would have triggered your presentation now? What had changed?

Your eyes widen. Japan. You’d set foot in fucking Japan. Ever since you’d gotten here, you’d felt power pulsing in your veins. Maybe it hadn’t been just power…

“N-no–”

A gentle thumb smooths over your cheek and you meet his eyes again. You shiver when you see a whole lot more black than blue. “You have no alpha?”

You whimper, leaning into him. Touch me, touch me, touch me, a part of you begs. You shake your head again and a tear slides down your cheek. “No,” you whisper.

Strong arms slide beneath your knees and you squeak when you’re suddenly suspended in the air. When you glance up he’s grinning triumphantly. “You have one now,” is all he says before he’s carrying you out of the classroom and twisting through the halls.

Warmth rushes over you at the sensation of being held, and something begs you to give into it, to give into the heat still washing over you, to the throbbing between your legs. You fight it and fight it hard.

“Where’re we going?” you ask, but your voice is sounding more and more like a whisper.

His eyes stay focused ahead, even as he presses a comforting kiss to the crown of your head. “Your room, sweetheart.”

Your brows scrunch. “How d’ you know where–”

“‘M following your scent, baby.”

He can do that? You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed, only to be hit by a different scent so delicious your mouth starts watering. You groan. Loudly. There’s a scent pouring from his neck that’s filling your head with memories of spices you can’t name, but suddenly know you love.

You think you hear him chuckle and then feel a gentle hand on the back of your neck, encouraging you. You snuggle deeper into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and burying your fingers in his hair. Taste him, taste him, taste him your mind chants. It’s too good an offer to deny. You lick a stripe across his skin.

Your groans are instant. He’s squeezing you closer, leaning into your touch, and you’re pulling him closer. Your fingers curl into his jacket, tugging and tugging. You lick again and now he’s the one groaning.

“Damn, that feels good,” He sounds as surprised by that fact as you feel. The swaying of his steps comes to a sudden halt. You whine, missing the rocking of his body. “Think we’re here, princess. This it?” His hand is smoothing over your hair, slowly coaxing you away from the curve of his neck. You blink, not wanting to leave the paradise of his scent, but also feeling some overwhelming urge to please him.

Your eyes settle on a door and you recognize a little chip in the wood. You nod. “Mhm.”

You gasp when his hand grips your hip, wriggling through your pocket until he pulls out a little brass key.

“Perfect,” he says, and his voice sounds like he’s all too pleased with himself. He shimmies your key in the knob until the lock clicks and then you’re inside. The door slams shut loud enough to make you jump and squeak.

“Oops, sorry, baby. Guess I’m a little excited, heh.” His hand squeezes your hip soothingly and you mewl at the wave of heat that pulses through you. Your clit throbs almost painfully and you feel something gush onto your thighs. You whimper.

He inhales. “Oh, shit,” he breathes, and then you’re moving again. He navigates your room like he knows it. He probably does. From what you can tell, most of the rooms at Jujutsu Tech follow a standard layout. He weaves down a hall to the left and then into your bedroom on the right.

He lays you on the bed gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid you might break if he drops you so much as an inch. “There we go,” he breathes. You can’t deny that it feels good, that it feels right, to be lying on the softness of your mattress, but it’s not enough.

You claw at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close. You want something from him, need something, but you can’t name what. You just know that the heat boiling beneath your skin can only be sated by him, that the throbbing between your legs can only be calmed by him. “P-Please,” you whimper. Tears well in your eyes. You need him so bad it physically hurts.

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine and it takes your breath away. He dips his head and you think you see him slide those sunglasses down his nose and toss them to the side. You don’t pay too close attention, though, because he’s kissing your neck again and your body is screaming with sensation.

“Aw, I know, baby. Don’ worry. ‘M gonna take care of you now. Jus’ relax.”

His words spark something in you– your last bit of consciousness. A brief moment of clarity shines through the fog of your mind and you remember what the hell is happening, what the hell you’re doing. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head desperately. No, no, no, this is not happening to you. There’s no way.

“Hey, now. None a’ that.” Fingers clasp your chin, holding you still. When you peek your eyes open, you see that he has in fact removed his sunglasses and that his eyes are more black pupil than dazzling blue. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is heavy. “Don’t try t’ fight it. Jus’ try to enjoy it…” His head dips and suddenly he’s nipping at your scent gland again.

You thrash and scream, but not in fear or pain. You’ve never felt something so good in your life. Every graze of his teeth feels like heaven. Your skin zings with electricity, sending pulses of pure need straight between your thighs.

You grab at him, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging him closer. Your chest is heaving when you speak. “Please, p-please-”

“Shhh…” You think you hear your shirt tearing, but you’re too focused on pulling him closer to care. His tongue licks a stripe up your throat and your eyes roll back.

You’re sure your shirt is off now. You can feel the cool air, but it does nothing to ease the heat raging inside you, pulsing and pumping through your veins.You feel him tugging at your pants, too, and you try to raise your hips. He only shushes you again. “Jus’ relax. Let me do the work, baby.”

Your pants are gone in seconds, even without your assistance. So is your bra and then your panties. He tries pulling away to undress himself, but you mewl and his eyes blow even blacker before he’s back over you again. He settles for popping the buttons straight off his shirt and shimmying out of his pants.

The sight of his bare skin makes you whimper and then you’re clawing at him again, dragging your fingers across his shoulders, over his chest, down his abs. It’s a greedy touch and one that he returns. His palms move along your body, kneading and squeezing at any flesh he can grab. It feels so good that you think you might pass out– but it’s still not enough. Something is still missing. You feel… empty.

His fingers trace across your stomach and it’s too late to realize what’s happening before he’s circling your clit. You jerk and jolt at the touch, but he presses his chest to yours, pinning you. The throbbing only worsens when his fingers settle into a rhythm.

Tears leak down your cheeks. It’s too overwhelming. You’re burning– burning from the inside out. The pulsing between your thighs is all-consuming with its intensity, with its-

“Need! N-Need–” you’re crying out, but you don’t even know what to ask for– don’t even know what you need.

“God, Fuck, I know, princess,” he groans. He licks a long stripe up your neck. “But ‘s your first heat. Gotta–” he has to pause to swallow. He’s panting, now, just as lost as you are, and you get the sense that he’s restraining himself. “Gotta get you ready… go slow.”

You shake your head. Now, now, now is all you can think. You need him now. “No… please…” You bury your head in his neck and find that spot that’s pouring his spicy scent into the air. Your mouth waters and you lick him, letting your teeth graze his skin.

“Fuck!” He shivers atop you and you feel the pure strength restrained within his muscles. “Fuck- okay. Okay. Relax f’ me, princess.”

You try, you really do, but your body refuses to do anything but try to pull him closer. You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them up, up, up until they’re pressed tightly to your chest and your feet are dangling on his shoulders. The position makes you whine, feeling more exposed than you ever have before.

“You on birth control, baby?”

Your brows furrow. It’s becoming harder and harder to focus on what he’s saying rather than simply the sound of his voice. Were you? You try to think, try to remember through the pit of glue that is your brain. No…

You shake your head. “N-No…”

There’s a slight pause, a beat of contemplation, and then he’s laughing. “Guess I’m bouta be a daddy then, heh.” He chuckles again and the sound rings through you with a wave of pure bliss. His lips brush your neck again, settling on your pulse and making you whine. “Don’t really mind as long as I get you.” Your head rolls back submissively, exposing your throat. Yes, yes, yes, your mind screams. There’s nothing you want more than that, you think.“Okay, here we go, baby.”

There’s hardly any more warning. One second you feel him shifting between your thighs and the next he’s pressing inside of you, feeding his cock in inch by inch. The stretch is… delicious. It burns, fuels that fire inside you, but it makes the heat feel more… pleasurable. Your back arches and your head rolls back submissively.

“Oh, fuck, princess.” His voice has gotten higher, more like a whine than anything else. When you gaze up at him you can see the flush in his cheeks, even through the fog in your mind. More, more, more your mind screams. Or maybe you say it aloud, because more is exactly what he gives you. The second you feel him tucked up against your cervix the second he begins to take you. He sets a pace that is somehow both brutal and gentle, with strokes that rattle your skull and also give you exactly what you need. His hands grip your hips, holding you still to take exactly what he wants to give. His head dips until he has his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his tongue is swirling so deliciously that you can’t help but drag your nails down his back.

Your body rocks with every thrust, teeth rattling and eyes rolling. The heat inside you grows… tighter, like it’s all pooling to your core, waiting for something you still can’t quite name.

“N-need…” You don’t know what you need, still. Only that you want to beg for it so badly it hurts.

His tongue slides away from your nipple, tracing a line up between the valley of your breasts, over your collarbone, before he finally settles on your pulse once again. The nick of his teeth makes something click in your mind. This is what you need. Bite me, bite me, bite. Claim me, claim me, claim me.

“Yes,” you breathe. Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, coaxing his teeth to sink in, to stake their claim. “Oh God, yes. Please.” You sound delirious, you think, but then so does he when he answers.

“Not yet, princess. Not yet.” His tongue darts out to lick across your neck again and you can only sob. Why not yet? Now, now, now…

Tightness coils in your muscles, the throb at your core reaching a breaking point. You feel something coming, something like an orgasm but yet also not. You know that when whatever is pooling inside you releases, you will shatter, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be put back together.

Your nails claw across his back hard enough to draw blood and the action forces out some sort of low grumble from his chest that makes you whimper and melt into the mattress. The tip of his nose draws a line up your throat. “Keep doin’ that, baby. Mark me up.”

You don’t dare deny him. You scratch at his skin, desperately trying to pull him closer. His thrusts grow faster and your thighs begin to tremble and shake on his shoulders, overwhelmed with the intensity of all you’re feeling. You pull at him, grab at him, thread your fingers through his hair.

Your body jolts with each thrust and you’re sure you’re going to burst any moment. But you can’t. Not yet. You still need something, something he hasn’t given you yet. He groans and the sound is so delicious that you feel it sliding over your skin and settling in your bones.

“M’ gonna knot you now, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take care ‘ve you.”

You whimper at his words. You hope they’re true. You don’t think you can take much more of the incessant gnawing of need in your gut.

“Please…” your voice is hardly more than a whisper. His breath is hot as it shakes against your neck. He’s licking and nipping at you ravenously, like he needs you just as badly, like he wants to claim you as badly as you want to be claimed.

His thrusts quicken even further and your jaw falls open, neck arching. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. Apparently, neither can he.

You feel it the moment he starts to swell inside you. It’s perfect, you think. It can’t get better than this– but then it does.

His teeth graze your throat again, this time a little harsher and with a little more intent. “Mine,” he whispers. The second he bites you everything goes blurry.

You’re experiencing… heaven. There is a rush of that electricity that buzzes under your skin. It bursts forth and you feel it reaching out, forming a link between the two of you that you know is now impenetrable. It pulses and burns and you can feel him, feel his pleasure, his desire, his need for you and only you– his need to make you his. You think your souls must be blending, merging, with how deep the connection runs. You think you know him, know everything you could possibly ever need to. You know he’s the one. You know he’s yours.

It’s perfect, the way it fulfills every desire you’ve ever had, the way he notches inside your cunt like that’s where he was made to be, the way his teeth clamp around your throat and bond you together forever.

You scream for him, you think, but you can’t tell through the complete and total haze of pleasure. Your walls spasm around him, milking him for every last drop, and you feel the heat of his cum coating your cervix. The heat at your center finally releases, bursting and flooding through you in a way that feels like pure bliss has been injected into your veins. Your thighs quake and tremble with the pure intensity of it all and white spots dot your vision.

His body is tense above you, shivering with the magnitude of what’s just happened. He’s groaning into your neck, your flesh still clamped between his teeth like he never wants to let go. You’re not sure you ever want him to.

Your breaths shake in and out, lungs heaving as you finally come down. His knot is still settled deep inside you and with the few strings of consciousness that slowly filter back into your mind you know that he’ll remain there for a while.

His teeth release from your neck with a squelch that you think you would be sickening in any other context, but only makes you whimper at the loss of contact. He only hums and finds your hand, twining your fingers together as he laps at the fresh bite on your throat. It feels… amazing. Not in the way it felt before, like he was licking pure lust straight onto your skin, but more like he’s giving you a comfort you have never known in your life. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt you here.

His lips press a final kiss to your throat before you feel him shifting. He gently rolls you both onto your sides, getting comfortable and pulling you to his chest while you both wait for the next wave of lust to hit you. It will, you know. Sooner rather than later, too. Your mind has cleared enough to realize what’s happening, what’s to come. You won’t be leaving this room, this bed, for quite some time.

A gentle hand brushes a sweaty lock of hair from your eyes before it settles on the nape of your neck, massaging the sore muscles there. You sigh and raise your gaze to find him already looking at you, an easy smile on his lips. He has dimples, you realize, and he’s… breathtaking. And now… he’s all yours.

There’s a beat of silence between you, a moment of reconciliation with what’s just happened between you, of what it means. You blink up at him, your lips parting to say something, anything, but instead your brows furrow in thought.

His smile drops instantly. He leans into you, thumb caressing your cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Your mouth runs dry. You peek up at him from beneath your lashes. “What’s your name?”

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @fushironi, @enchantedsylveon, @keiva1000

link: alpha!geto

link: 1k followers event!

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

7K notes · View notes

noharaaa · 19 days ago

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐠 (𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬 𝐱 !𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Author’s Note: Disclaimer! This plot is not to encourage drug usage! Don’t do drugs people!

• Reader has no specific gender.

• Parody fic! This is all for jokes.

Enjoy Reading!

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Back in your more questionable days, Choi Su Bong was a frequent (and unforgettable) customer. He’d show up at the oddest hours, paying in cryptic compliments and half-finished rhymes while buying from your stash. You were just trying to make a living, but he treated every transaction like a chapter in some epic cosmic romance. He was the aspiring rapper who thought the universe revolved around him, and you were the unlucky drug dealer stuck listening to his "intergalactic" bars. You thought those days were behind you….until now, when fate (or bad karma) brought him crashing back into your life in the most ridiculous way possible.

part 2 ‖ 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You thought you would never see him again. Not here in this neon nightmare of death games and psychopathic guards. But there he was: Thanos, in all his glory, with that fucking green jump suit that somehow made him look dumber than whatever way he already looked.

“Y/N,” he said, “Fancy seeing you here.”

You groaned. Loudly. “Of course, it’s you. The universe wouldn’t be cruel enough to allow me to escape this.”

“Cruel? Or destined?”

Yep. That’s right. Back when you were still deep in the game... no, not this death game, the other one, with the gangs and dealers and all of the cursed undergound deals you used to sell to him inthhe past. He wasn’t really ‘Thanos’ at that point. No, he was just Choi Su Bong, a wannabe rapper with a galaxy-sized ego.

And yeah, sure, he paid well (sometimes in bundles he claimed were from a “distant realm,” but who cares), but at the price of listening to him rap the ugliest bars you ever heard. You thought you were forever done with that life. But now?

Now, he’s here. In your face. In this game. While somehow managing to “flirt” in the most awkward, over-the-top ways imaginable.

“What on earth are you doing here?” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Your rap career flopped, or what?”

His exaggerated chuckle made a few of the other players look nervously in your direction, “The rap game couldn't handle me,” he said, “But I knew destiny would unite us again.”

“Destiny? Or that you can’t stay out of trouble?”

He ignored that. “Remember our late-night deals? The way we’d share whispers in the dark with secrets exchanged like precious jewels?”

Seriously?

You stared at him. “Thanos, I sold you weed.”

“Cosmic weed,” he corrected you with his finger held up, “And inspiration.”

“Uh, no? I sold you product … so you could get high and spit more of those garbage raps of yours.”

“I know you meant to say terribly brilliant raps,” he corrected one more time. “And now, here we are. Two fighters in this brutal game, bonded again.”

“I’m trying to survive. not write a duet with you,”

He grinned mischievously. “But survival is an art. And the two of us? We’ll create a masterpiece together.

Before you could unload with all the insults bubbling in your throat, Nam-gyu (Player 124) popped out of thin air and attached himself to Thanos like a lost puppy. “Hey, Boss! Who’s your friend?”

“Y/N, meet Nam-su.”

“Nam-gyu.” Player 124 corrected.

Thanos corrected himself, “Meet Nam-gyu. My… sidekick.”

Nam-gyu grinned. “Boss says I’ve got potential. What about you? Are you friends with him or something?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “Sure.”

The purple-haired boy added, his voice dripping with innuendo, “More than friends. Kindred spirits. Partners in destiny.”

Nam-gyu’s eyes widened. “Whoa. That’s deep.”

“It’s delusional” you muttered.

Nam-gyu looked between the two of you. “So… is this like, a thing? You guys got history?”

Thanos smiled, the kind of smile that made you want to punch it off his face. “A cosmic connection, forged in the fires of ambition and—”

“If you say ‘destiny’ one more time, I swear I’ll throw you into the next game.”

Nam-gyu whistled quietly, leaning closer to Thanos. “Feisty much?”

“They’ve always had a fiery temper,” Thanos said, not even trying to hide his amusement. “One of the many things I admire about them.”

“Admire all you want,” you said, crossing your arms. “But if you think I’m going to partner up with you again, you’ve got another thing coming.”

He shrugged, utterly unfazed. “We’ll see, Y/N. We’ll see.”

You huffed, turning on your heel and walking away, hoping to find literally anyone else to align with in this twisted game.

And you knew, deep down, that fate (or your seriously bad luck) wasn’t done with you yet.

part 2 ‖ 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

Author’s Note: (Leave a like! Or reblog! I respond to anyone ❤️)

#thanos squid game #squid game x reader #squid game 2 #player 230 #t.o.p #choi su bong #choi seunghyun #choi su bong x reader #squid game thanos #fanfiction #squid game s2 #squid game #squid game season 2 #thanos x reader

453 notes · View notes

winterarmyy · 2 months ago

Text

Most Precious

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Bucky and the reader had to take shelter from the snow storm after abandoning a mission due to the reader's 'mistake'.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x avenger!female!reader

Words: 2.2k++

Warnings: nudity but no smut content. a sprinkle of angst and i hope the ending is fluffy enough to make up for it.

Inspiration: i saw @buck-star posted this event and some of the prompts inspired me to write this 🥹

Prompts used: stranded/snowed in, cabin in the woods on the mountain, grumpy x sunshine soft reader, mutual pining/idiots in love, sitting lying together in front of the fireplace, a tweaked version of "You're the most precious thing ever. I will protect you with everything I have."

Note: feel free to search up #sydneysfluffywinter or #fluff-star winter for more stories under the event. i hope you enjoy this short fic!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The wind roared like a creature born of anger, staggering through the cabin’s entrance door as Bucky almost broke the door when he kicked it open. Snow seeping into his tactical suit, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. In his arms, Y/N lay limp, her frozen skin clinging to the fabric of his suit on his chest as if she belonged there. She can hear his heart hammered against her ear, a relentless beat behind the layers of cloth.

It was wild, frantic even; and she told herself it was because of the storm, the desperate trek to find shelter. She thought of her injuries, the way she slowed him down. The guilt made her heart clench and her chest feel heavy; a throb more suffocating than the pain in her thigh and waist. She’d been nothing but a burden.

The cabin was almost as dark as the night, and the coldness of the space was not that far off from the snow storm brewing outside. But this? This wasn’t new to him. He’d endured worse.

Bucky lowered her carefully in front of the fireplace, his movements precise but urgent. Y/N winced as her wounds screamed in protest, the pain was blazing hot despite the freezing air around. Her thigh throbbed, and her waist felt as though it was wrapped in shards of glass.

Bucky stepped away briefly, his gaze darting over the unlit corners of the room, his hand instinctively brushing the knife at his side. A habit he was not able to forget; the Winter Soldier training never really left him. Satisfied they were alone, he turned back to her.

Her eyelids fluttered slowly, her consciousness slipping in and out. Bucky cursed under his breath. The power was out, but he wasn’t about to waste time diagnosing that now. His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line as he set out what he needed to treat her wounds.

Bucky was angry; it radiated off him like steam from boiling water. But the frown on his face wasn’t unfamiliar. Y/N had seen his rigid features a thousand times before. This, though? This was sharper, colder. It wasn’t his usual grumpiness. He was mad. At her.

The realization was like a slow plunge of blade into her chest, and it made eyes pooled with warm tears. Not from the physical pain scorching her flesh, but the ache of his perceived disappointment.

By the time Bucky had coaxed the firewood into flames, the heat began to thaw the rattling chill in the room. He knelt beside her, his expression set in stone as he draped a blanket over her trembling form. Behind the cover of the blanket, his hands worked quickly, undressing her with care that belied his hardened demeanor.

He pulled her close as he worked to pull her pants over her bottom. Her face was buried in his neck as he whispered, “The cold will kill you. Come on, now.” His voice, rough but mostly filled with urgency. They didn’t have the luxury of embarrassment – for her, the sensation of him stripping her bare; for him, the temptation to relish the softness of her skin against his hands – not with her life teetering on the edge of frost and blood loss.

He peeled the blanket back just enough to expose her injuries, the torn of her flesh was slick with half-frozen blood. The cold had helped slow the bleeding, but not enough to ease his worry. Bucky worked with a precision that spoke of grim experience.

Every time she winced or hissed, his grip on the forceps tightened, the metal creaking in protest. It was as if her pain annoyed him, a silent demand for her to be stronger, better; more like an Avenger.

She noticed it every single time, and it pricked into her pride like being wrapped with thorny vines. The fact that he wouldn’t meet her eyes made it worse. His focus stayed on her wounds, his frown deepening with each moment.

When he finally finished, he noticed the tears tracing her cheeks; a silent trace of a vulnerability she couldn’t hide. They were especially prominent when they glistened in the firelight. His brow furrowed further.

“Bear with the pain a little longer,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll get the team here as soon as I can.” his tone was not that far off from his normal grumpy self.

But to Y/N, at this very moment, it sounded harsh. To her, it sounded more like an order than reassurance. She swallowed, guilt twisting like a vice in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice trembling.

Bucky’s head snapped up, confusion flashing in his stormy blue eyes. “What?”

“I’m sorry for being incompetent. I should’ve noticed them sooner. I should’ve taken them down before they could do anything.” Her voice was a mix of shame and frustration however not as evident as the pure agon trembling through.

His jaw clenched. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

The words were meant to be absolution, but she heard them differently. There’s nothing you can do.

Her voice cracked. “I wasn’t enough.”, streams of hot tears kept falling unapologetically, leaving behind a trail of warmth on her cold skin.

Bucky’s frown deepened, his frustration bubbling over. “Damn it, Y/N. Why do you always do this to yourself?”

She blinked at him, her confusion cutting through the haze of pain. “Do what?”

“Put the blame on yourself like it’s some kind of default setting. This wasn’t your fault,” he snapped, the edge in his voice sharper than intended.

Her cheeks burned, shame and anger mingling in her chest. “I’m not blaming myself. I’m just… stating facts. If I’d been faster, stronger; if I’d been better; this wouldn’t happen. We wouldn’t need to abandon the mission. You wouldn’t need to carry me all the way up here.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, his frustration spilling out; contaminating the air around them. “You think I care about that? About you being some kind of perfect soldier?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping but no less intense. “I care about you, Y/N. Not your skills, not your damn performance. YOU.”

Her breath hitched, his words slicing through the self-doubt she’d been drowning in. “Then why do you look at me like that? Like I’ve failed you?”

His shoulders sagged, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “That’s not what this is,” he said, his tone quieter now, tinged with exhaustion. “I’m angry because you scared the hell out of me. I’m worried about you, Y/N. You jumped in front of a bullet meant for me without a second thought. Don’t you value your life?”

The words struck her like a blow, but she struck back with equal fervor. “You’re the most valuable person to me! Of course, I will protect you with everything I have. And I’d do it again if I have to!”

Her confession lingered in the air, fragile but undeniable. Bucky’s eyes widened, the storm in them softening as realization washed over him. His anger melted, leaving only the deepest parts of his emotions afloat; his love for her.

His right hand rose tentatively, brushing the skin of her tear-streaked face. His palm cupped her cheek, his warmth a stark contrast to her icy skin. She leaned into his touch, a quiet surrender.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling with an overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t quite utter out loud yet. “You… you matter to me.”

The words hung between them, heavy and fragile. She blinked up at him, the pieces slowly found its rightful place in puzzle. She realized that he meant more than just about worry or duty. It was something deeper, something unspoken but unmistakable. Yet, she reminds herself not to get ahead of the moment.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s gaze softened, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Because you make it easier to keep going,” he admitted, his voice unfiltered. “When everything feels heavy, when the past doesn’t let me breathe, you’re the one thing that makes it bearable. You remind me that I’m still… me. And that makes you, Y/N, the most precious person to me.”

Her heart clenched, his words cutting through the haze of pain and doubt. The light from the fire danced in his eyes, their usual icy blue now warm and liquid, like the sea yielding to the shore. She hadn’t just been a mission partner or a responsibility to him. She’d been his anchor, his hope.

And for a moment, the storm outside seemed to still; as if time itself paused to let the quiet intimacy between them linger just a little longer. To let the cabin feel like it was a cocoon, sheltering not just their bodies but the fragile truths they’d finally unveiled.

"Are you okay with that, babydoll?" he asked softly.

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the nickname, her heart stuttering in her chest. She nodded, sheepish, her lips curving into a small, bashful smile. His own lips twitched upward, the corners softening into a rare, genuine grin. Her reaction was worth the vulnerability of saying it aloud.

But as the burning wood crackled and the silence stretched, Bucky noticed the faint tremble still coursing through her body. Even with the fire roaring and the blanket tucked around her, she was trembling.

"You’re still cold," he murmured, guilt threading through his tone as his hand moved gently, caressing her cheek before trailing down to her neck. His touch was soft, deliberate, as though he could erase the chill from her skin with every motion.

Their eyes met in that moment, and the realization hit them both at the same time.

She nodded slightly, her voice a soft whisper. "Can you… stay with me? Under the covers?"

Bucky hesitated, his instincts warring with his emotions. His hesitation lingered for a moment too long, and she turned her wide, pleading eyes on him. Those damned puppy eyes. And just like that, he was undone.

With a resigned sigh, he stripped off his snow-soaked jacket and tactical vest, leaving them in a damp heap by the fire. His shirt followed, revealing the lines of muscle and the faint scars that told a thousand stories. He slid beneath the covers, careful not to jostle her injured side. The moment his warmth enveloped her, Y/N instinctively curled closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Bucky’s body was a furnace, the serum coursing through his veins keeping his heat steady and intense. Her frozen fingers brushed against his chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath, every nerve in his body coming alive at the contact.

Slowly, he wrapped his right arm around her, careful and deliberate. Pulling her closer; her head snuggled into the crook of his neck, the softness of her breasts resting on just below his chest, her legs entangled with his, until there was no space left between them.

His hand found her back, calloused fingers tracing soothing circles over her bare skin. The gesture was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid that she would break. But the way she relaxed against him, her breaths stabilising as her trembling subsided, told him she didn’t mind. Her nose brushing against his skin, and he felt her sigh; a soft, content sound that made his chest ache in the best way.

"You’re precious to me," he murmured, the words spilling out before he could second-guess them. His lips found her forehead, a lingering kiss that was both tender and grounding. "More than anything."

Y/N’s fingers curled against his chest, her heart thumping a steady rhythm that matched his own. "Bucky," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep but laced with something softer, warmer. "Thank you."

He smiled against her hair, the corners of his mouth curving upward in a way that felt unfamiliar but good. "No, thank you, for saving me", he replied quietly, his sincerity was certain. Then his tone shifted, growing stern as he added, "But, don’t do that again."

She giggled softly at his warning, the sound light and airy, cutting through the heaviness of the moment. "What if I like saving you?" she teased, her voice playful but still tinged with exhaustion.

Bucky rolled his eyes, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "You’re impossible," he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. Instead, his hand shifted to cradle the back of her head, his thumb brushing gently over her hairline. "Just promise me you won’t scare me like that again."

She tilted her head up slightly to meet his gaze, her lips twitching with a faint smile. "Only if you promise the same."

He huffed, his breath warm against her temple. "Deal." His fingers resumed their soothing circles on her back, and he leaned down to press another soft kiss to her forehead. "Get some rest, doll."

They stayed like that, skin to skin, softness meeting strength. Bucky held her as if the world outside didn’t exist, as if the storm that had almost claimed their life was nothing but a distant memory. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of everything; the mission, the storm, the unspoken emotions, seemed to lift. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside faded to nothing.

At some point, their bodies finally surrendered to exhaustion, leading them straight to the warm embrace of sleep and perhaps even to the bashful morning after when they awoke, body tangled together, and all too aware of the touch of each other’s bare skin.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: i know it's not a tooth rotting fluff, regardless though, i hope you enjoyed the fic? drop your thoughts, i'd love to read them 💕

#sydneysfluffywinter #fluff star winter event #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #avenger!bucky #bucky angst

585 notes · View notes

freeabortionslol · 2 months ago

Text

first day at the lake house (lake house gc x reader fic) feat. jack hughes, luke hughes, quinn hughes, trevor zegras, cole caufield ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

summary: !!this stems from the lake house group chat so if you haven't read those you should!! reader is apart of the lake house friend group, flirtatious with each boy, this fic is pretty crucial to the plot I can't lie, i put in a lot of comedic moments (bc ik y'all love those), TENSIONNN, a little bit of angst towards the end, each guy has their own nickname for her (ex. babe, sunshine, princess, sunny, and bunny) warnings!! cursing, angst, i only proofread once (I think that's it) a/n: ahhhh!!! finally the FIRST lake house fic (I say first bc I cannot wait to write more of these). this one is pretty long which I did by accident so bare w me. please keep sending suggestions they're so fun to read!! quinn & jack lovers, this fic is for you. love u lots <3 wc: 11.4k lake house series masterlist

The harsh Michigan sun slipped through the thin curtains of the lake house, waking you in almost an instant. You grabbed the dark throw blanket off the ground, covering your face to shield your eyes. You shuffled, trying to settle in more carefully on the half deflated air mattress so you could get just five more minutes. You maybe got two hours of sleep last night, being kept awake by Trevor’s snoring from the bed above. Several times throughout the night, Cole got frustrated with his snoring and kicked him. Trevor kicked him right back, sending Cole straight down to your mattress. He never landed directly on top of you as you chose to sleep as far away from the boys as possible, but he did come close. It happened four times (yes you counted) throughout the night, deflating your mattress little by little each time Cole’s body was thrown down. You closed your eyes, balling your body up under the blanket as you quickly let yourself drift back to sleep.

“Oh my god, shut up!” Cole groaned sleepily at Trevor who was too deep into his slumber to hear. You heard the shuffle of Cole’s foot reaching to kick Trevor, rolling your eyes at what was about to happen. You pulled the blanket from off your head, moving over to the side to give Cole some space to land. Just five seconds later, Cole let out a slight scream, falling right next to you on the air mattress. You turned to look at him, anger evident in your eyes as he made himself comfortable on your makeshift bed. You quickly grabbed the pillow your head was lying on to hit him square in the face.

“Ow! Trev-” He paused, opening his eyes which softened at the sight of you, even if you were furious. “Oh. Hey, baby.” He said with a soft smile, letting his eyes shut again as he reached his arm around to pull you close to him.

You pulled yourself out of his grasp, scooching closer to the edge of the mattress as you sat yourself up straight. “Don’t ‘hey baby’ me!” You groaned, your mind still not fully awake. “You assholes kept me up all night!” Cole kept his eyes shut, nodding his head as he listened to your incoherent words.

“Should’ve just slept down here with you.” He mumbled through his sleepy state, snaking his arm around your waist to pull you down. You scoffed, moving out of his grasp to stand next to the mattress. You crossed your arms, looking at Trevor who had his whole body splayed across the bed, then down at Cole whose smaller frame still managed to take over your territory. Somehow, the two boys were able to continue their sleep, even with the bright light shining through the window. You stared down at the scene before you, shaking your head in disbelief. It was like babysitting two toddlers who had somehow gained the bodies of grown men. Cole was already softly snoring again, his arm flung over the edge of the deflated air mattress where you had been moments before. Trevor, meanwhile, let out a particularly loud snore, causing him to twitch and sprawl even further across the bed above. You picked up a pillow from off the ground, throwing it at Trevor whose body didn’t even flinch at the action. You took one last look at the boys before huffing out your breath and exiting the room. You walked down the hallway, your legs wobbling slightly through your sleepy state. You were pissed when you found out you’d have to share a room with Trevor and Cole this trip. Normally it was Jack who shared with the two of them in his room, but he decided this year he wanted to “Bunk alone. For the greater good, you know?” whatever that means. The spare bedroom where you slept every year (alone might I add) had been quickly invaded by the two most testosterone filled creatures you knew, and you were not happy in the slightest. The lake house had always been your escape, but this year it felt more like torture. You made your way down the stairs, hair messy, voice groggy as Luke’s Michigan t-shirt fell slightly past your athletic shorts. You walked to the kitchen, grabbing a glass to pour yourself some water.

“Mornin’” You heard a low voice hum through the quiet of the kitchen. You turned your head slowly, seeing Quinn walking down the stairs to the kitchen. His hair was ruffled messily in his face while the neckline of his t-shirt hung low. You tried your best to send him a smile as you continued to fill your glass at the fridge dispenser. He walked closer, placing a hand on your lower back as he shuffled behind you to get to the pantry which sent a quick shiver down your spine.

“Morning,” you mumbled back, your voice still heavy with exhaustion as you sipped your water. The cool liquid soothed your dry throat, but it did little to fix the throbbing headache that lingered from your sleepless night.

Quinn grabbed a box of cereal from the pantry, his movements slow and deliberate, clearly still half-asleep himself. “Rough night?” he asked, his tone light but laced with understanding.

You let out a bitter laugh, rubbing your hands against your face. “Rough doesn’t begin to cover it.” You said, leaning against the counter as you looked at him. “Trevor snored all night, and every time he snored, Cole would kick him. Then, Trevor would kick Cole back, sending him flying down to my mattress.” Quinn’s face cringed up as you spoke. “Four motherfuckin’ times. And each time, my mattress deflated just a little more.”

Quinn chuckled softly, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. “Sounds about right. I told Jack you’d kill him for sticking you with those two.”

“Oh, I’m definitely killing him,” you replied, crossing your arms. “This lake house is supposed to be my sanctuary, not…whatever that was.” You gestured toward the ceiling, as if the chaos of the night was still lingering above you.

Quinn smirked, grabbing the milk from the fridge and shaking his head. “Jack probably thought it’d be funny. He’s always been the king of passing off the worst roommates.”

“Well, his reign ends today,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “I’m moving to the couch if I have to. No way I’m surviving another night like that.”

Quinn paused mid-pour, glancing up at you with a hint of mischief in his expression. “You know…” he started, “My room’s always an option. No snoring, no body-slamming. Just saying.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, skeptical. “Is that your way of offering me your bed while you take the floor, or are you actually trying to convince me to sleep with you?”

He grinned, unbothered by your teasing tone. “I’m offering you peace and quiet. What you make of it is up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I’ll think about it,” you said, taking another sip of water.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” Luke shouted, his voice piercing through the quiet air as he ran into the kitchen. “It’s the first day at the lake! We’re wasting perfectly good hours of sunlight here.” You glared at Luke as you chugged the water, sending him a stern look.

Quinn sighed, walking over to put an arm around your shoulders. “I think little miss sunshine over here needs a nap.”

“She looks more like little miss raincloud.” Luke let out with a light chuckle. You quickly stretched out your leg, sending him a kick to the shin. “What the hell-”

“Stop being a dumbass.” You interrupted with a stern tone to your voice.

Luke rubbed his shin dramatically, his face a mix of confusion and mock offense. “We just got here, and you’re already assaulting me?”

“Consider it a warning,” you said, setting your glass down on the counter and narrowing your eyes at him.

Quinn chuckled, keeping his arm around your shoulders. “She didn’t sleep last night. Trevor and Cole made sure of that.”

“I heard my name, what’s going on?” Trevor came jogging down the stairs looking way too happy for your liking.

You groaned audibly, your head dropping into your hands as Trevor bounded into the kitchen, his grin almost as obnoxious as the snoring that kept you up all night. "Why are you so chipper?" you asked, your voice dripping with exhaustion and irritation.

Trevor shrugged, grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl. “Got a great night’s sleep, that’s why.” He peeled the banana, dramatically biting into it. “Man, I feel amazing.”

You glared at him, your patience wearing thinner by the second. “Oh, I’m so glad someone enjoyed their night.”

Trevor tilted his head, clearly enjoying your misery. “What’s the problem? Air mattress too lumpy for ya?”

“She’s mad because you snore like a freight train,” Quinn interjected, smirking as he leaned against the counter. “And because Cole used her mattress as a trampoline every time you kicked him off the bed.”

Trevor laughed, a full, hearty laugh that echoed through the kitchen. “That’s hilarious! Why didn’t anyone wake me up? I would’ve joined in.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now? I barely survived the night because of you two.”

Luke, still nursing his bruised shin, smirked from the corner. “You really should’ve just slept outside.”

“That’s it,” you said, throwing your hands up and stomping toward the doorway. “I’m finding Jack. At least he won’t mock me to my face.”

Trevor called after you, still grinning. “Tell him we need more snacks! Oh, and maybe some earplugs for tonight!” You flipped him off without looking back, earning a loud cackle from the kitchen.

As you stepped into the living room, the sound of Jack's voice floated down from the upstairs balcony. "Yeah, I knew this would happen," he was saying, clearly talking to someone on the phone. "But hey, it’s not my problem."

You stormed up the stairs and into his room, ready to give him a piece of your mind. “Jack Hughes!” you yelled, startling him mid-sentence. He looked up at you, wide-eyed, as you jabbed a finger in his direction. “We need to talk. Now.”

Jack stared at you, the phone still pressed to his ear as he sat up in his bed. “Uh, I’m gonna have to call you back,” he said quickly, hanging up before you could even see who he was talking to. He set the phone on the nightstand and raised his hands defensively. “Okay, okay, don’t kill me. What’s this about?”

“What’s this about?” you repeated, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “This is about you deciding to ditch Trevor and Cole on me. I know you masterminded this. ‘For the greater good,’ my ass.”

Jack’s lips twitched like he was fighting a smile, which only fueled your anger. “I didn’t think it’d be that bad,” he said, trying to sound innocent. “I mean, come on, they’re not that annoying.”

You shot him a glare so intense it could’ve melted steel. “They are exactly that annoying. Trevor’s snoring was like sharing a room with a lawnmower, and Cole-” You stopped yourself, throwing your hands up. “I don’t even have words for what Cole did to my air mattress.”

Jack finally broke, laughing so hard he nearly fell off the bed. “Oh man, this is even better than I thought.”

“It’s not funny, Jack!” you snapped, but his laughter was contagious, and you felt the corner of your mouth twitch despite yourself.

He wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning. “Okay, fine, I’ll make it up to you. How about this, you can sleep in my room tonight. I’ll take the couch.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, weighing your options. As much as you hated giving him the satisfaction, a full night’s sleep in a decent bed sounded like heaven. “Fine,” you said, pointing at him. “But you’re on thin ice. Scoot over.” You quickly walked over to climb into bed next to Jack, making yourself comfortable under the blankets.

“What are you doing?” He asked, grinning down at you from his sitting position.

You looked up at him once and then closed your eyes, shifting your head against the pillow. “Taking a nap in my bed.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Your bed, huh? I don’t remember signing off on that.”

Without opening your eyes, you muttered, “You forfeited ownership when you subjected me to Trevor and Cole. Consider this reparations.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he scooted over to make room. “Fine. But if you start snoring, I’m kicking you out.”

You peeked one eye open, glaring at him. “Unlike some people in this house, I have normal human sleep habits. No snoring, no body-slamming, no dramatics.”

Jack leaned back against the headboard, crossing his arms. “Guess we’ll see about that.”

“Not if you don’t shut up and let me sleep,” you mumbled, already nestling deeper into the blankets. The bed was ridiculously comfortable, and the faint scent of Jack’s cologne lingering on the pillow didn’t hurt either. Within minutes, your body began to relax, exhaustion taking over. Jack stayed where he was, scrolling on his phone and glancing at you every so often. The corners of his mouth tugged upward as he watched your breathing slow, your features softening in sleep. Despite the chaos earlier, he couldn’t help but feel a little smug. As you shifted slightly, your hand brushed against his leg, and Jack froze, his gaze flicking down to where your fingers rested against his knee. A faint blush crept up his neck, but he quickly shook his head, muttering to himself. “Nope. Nope.” Still, he didn’t move, staying right where he was to make sure you got your much needed nap. After all, if you woke up cranky again, he was pretty sure you’d murder someone, and it probably wouldn’t be Trevor or Cole. Jack scrolled mindlessly on his phone, glancing at you every now and then as you slept peacefully beside him. He couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at the contrast between your current state and the fiery temper you’d displayed just an hour ago. He was used to your sarcastic remarks and quick comebacks, but seeing you this calm, curled up in his bed, was different. He sighed, tossing his phone to the side and letting his head fall back against the headboard. It was still early in the day, but the lake house was already buzzing with chaos. From the sounds of it, Trevor had probably convinced Luke to start some sort of ridiculous competition outside, and Quinn was likely refereeing with an eye roll and a resigned sigh. Jack was tempted to join them, but his eyes drifted back to you. He knew you’d been looking forward to this trip as much as anyone, and now, thanks to his little prank with the room assignments, you were already worn out. Maybe he’d gone too far this time. You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent as you shifted closer to his side. Jack froze, not wanting to wake you, but when your head lightly bumped against his arm, he couldn’t stop the small smile that crept across his face.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath, his tone dripping with mock annoyance. “Now I’m a pillow.” You didn’t respond, of course, but your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his hoodie, and Jack’s heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t used to this; being this close to you without the usual teasing or bickering. It felt...nice.

The sound of the door slamming downstairs startled him, followed by Trevor’s unmistakable shout. “Jack! Where are you? It’s boatin’ time!” Jack groaned, glancing down at you. Your face scrunched up slightly at the noise, and he could tell you were seconds away from waking up.

Before you could fully stir, Jack leaned down, his voice soft. “Do you wanna go for a boat ride or stay here longer?”

You let out a heavy sigh, moving your head from Jack’s arm to rub your eyes. “I guess I should probably go.” He smiled down at your sleepy state, running his hand through your hair as you woke up.

Jack’s touch was light, almost hesitant, as his fingers combed through your hair. “You sure?” he asked softly, his grin teasing but warm. “I can fend them off if you wanna sleep longer.”

You groaned, sitting up and stretching your arms above your head. “If I stay, they’ll just find a way to drag me out of here anyway,” you muttered, your voice still thick with sleep. Your eyes flicked to Jack, catching the way he was watching you. His grin softened into something gentler, and it made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t prepared for.

“Fair point,” he said, standing up and offering you his hand. “Come on, princess. Let’s go tame the animals.” You took his hand lightly, letting go as soon as you stood up. You and Jack parted ways when you reached the spare room. He made his way downstairs to the dock while you put on your bathing suit. You entered the room, not bothering to lock it since everyone was already outside. You let out a dramatic yawn, stretching your arms above your head before grabbing your swimsuit. You opted for a forest green triangle bikini with side tie bottoms. You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment before taking off your shirt, just looking at your tired eyes. Dark circles had formed and you looked utterly exhausted. You grasped the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion before removing your shorts. You slipped on the bottoms first before reaching for your top. You slipped it over your body first, then flipped the backside to the front to retie the strings. You were topless fiddling with the strings when you heard the door swing open.

“Hey babe-” Cole stood at the door, stopping in his tracks when he caught sight of you with no top. He was like a deer in headlights, making direct eye contact with your breasts. His mouth parted slightly as his eyes widened.

“Cole! Get out!” You yelled, knocking him back into reality. He covered his eyes with his hands as he let out a slight scream.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He cried out as he stood there with his eyes covered. “I didn’t see anything! I swear!”

You stood there, flustered as you tried to cover yourself with your arms. “Why are you still standing there?!” You scolded.

“I-I-I-I don’t know!” He shook his head, still standing there.

You shook your head, letting it hang for a moment. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” You muttered. “Get out, Cole!”

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!” He cried out, still in disbelief at what he’d just seen. He turned his body around, eyes still covered as he walked towards the door. His memory of the layout had betrayed him quickly as his head made direct contact with the door in front of him. You quickly tied your bikini top on before walking closer to him.

You sighed, torn between annoyance and concern, as Cole stumbled slightly, rubbing his forehead. “Cole, are you okay?” you asked, your voice a mix of exasperation and amusement.

He peeked through his fingers, cautiously lowering his hands when he realized you were now covered. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact as a bright blush spread across his cheeks. “Didn’t mean to barge in…I didn’t know you were in here.” As he turned to leave, the door swung open again. This time revealing Quinn, who immediately froze, taking in the scene. You in your swimsuit, Cole looking flustered and guilty.

Quinn’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh... what’s going on here?”

Cole stammered, pointing at you as if that would somehow explain everything. “I-it’s not what it looks like!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the headache forming. “Cole accidentally walked into the room while I was changing. End of story.”

Quinn’s lips twitched, but he fought to keep a straight face. “Accidentally, huh?” He glanced at Cole, then back at you, his teasing smirk forming. “You sure you weren’t just trying to put on a show, sunshine?”

Your face burned as you shot him a glare. “Quinn, don’t even start.”

Cole held up his hands, desperate to escape the situation. “I’m leaving! I’m leaving!” He practically bolted out the door, muttering apologies under his breath as Quinn stepped aside to let him pass.

You groaned, dropping onto the edge of the bed. “If anyone makes one joke about this, I’m throwing them off the boat.” You looked up at Quinn who was wearing a perfect, teasing smile. He had his yankees hat on backwards, his canucks shirt fitting perfectly over his build. If you weren’t stressing about the moments just before, you’d be absolutely drooling over him right now.

Quinn chuckled, pushing off the door to walk closer. “Don’t worry, I’ll back you up. But for the record...” He sat beside you, tilting his head to catch your eyes. “I don’t blame Cole for freezing. You’re kind of hard to look away from.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his tone, and you playfully shoved his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

He laughed, standing up and extending a hand to you. “Come on, Sunshine. Let’s go make sure Trevor hasn’t capsized the boat yet.”

You rolled your eyes but took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “If he has, we’re throwing him in the lake.”

Quinn grinned, his hand lingering in yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Deal.” Quinn led you out of the room, his hand brushing yours as you both descended the stairs toward the dock. Outside, the sun glinted off the water, and the sound of laughter and splashing filled the air. Trevor was already in the lake, standing on the edge of the boat, waving his arms dramatically.

“Come on!” He yelled. “We're losing precious hours of sunlight!” You scoffed and rolled your eyes as you and Quinn made your way down to the dock. You slipped one of Cole’s t-shirts over your head that you’d swiped from the room before heading down, not wanting to be fully exposed just yet. “O’captain o’captain,” Trevor started with a terrible fake British accent. “Come to ye mighty wheel and commandeer this ship from lord Luke.”

You made your way onto the boat, sending Trevor a nudge that almost pushed him into the water. “Shut up.” You mumbled, taking your spot in one of the seats, isolated from everyone else. You tucked your legs underneath yourself as you leaned your elbow on the edge of the boat.

You looked over at Trevor who rebalanced himself, jumping back into the boat with a smug grin. “Heard about your ‘bodacious rack’.” He said with a slight laugh. Your face flushed and you scoffed, turning to Cole who sat in front of you.

Fear struck his eye at the sight of your glare. “You told them that?” You scolded.

“No, no! T-That’s not what I said.” He let out with a nervous laugh and a sheepish smile, straightening his posture.

“Uh, that’s exactly what you said.” Luke chimed in, taking a sip of his beer.

Your jaw dropped, a mix of shock and irritation bubbling up as you glared at Cole. “Seriously?” you said, crossing your arms. “Cole, you’ve got about five seconds to explain yourself before I toss you in the lake.”

Cole raised his hands defensively, his face already bright red. “Wait, wait, wait! It wasn’t like that- I swear! I didn’t say it like that.”

Trevor, of course, was grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Oh, but you did, buddy. Don’t try to backtrack now.” He mimicked Cole’s voice, dramatically exaggerated. “‘Man, I saw everything. Her whole top was down and she’s got this bodacious rack.’ Classic, Cole.”

Luke snorted into his beer, clearly enjoying the show, while Quinn groaned from the driver’s seat, his head falling back slightly in exasperation. “Trevor, do you ever stop instigating?”

Trevor placed a hand over his heart, feigning innocence. “I’m just here to deliver the truth.”

Cole stammered, his words coming out in a jumbled mess. “I-I didn’t mean it like- like that! It was…it was an observation, okay?!” His hands flew up as if that would somehow help his case. “I was just- it slipped out, and then Trevor-” He gestured wildly toward Trevor, who was enjoying this far too much. “He made it worse!”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Oh, so it’s Trevor’s fault now?”

“Absolutely!” Cole nodded enthusiastically, latching onto the lifeline. “Trevor twisted my words!”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh despite your irritation. Turning to Quinn, who was still steering the boat, you said, “Can we leave Trevor and Cole stranded on an island somewhere?”

Quinn smirked, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Tempting, but then who would provide the entertainment?”

“Jack can,” you quipped, giving Jack a pointed look. “He’s just as bad.”

Jack raised his drink in a mock toast. “Guilty as charged.” You looked over at Trevor who was still wearing a wide smile. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you settled further into your seat, occasionally glancing over at Cole.

“Now I feel like I can’t take my shirt off.” You mumbled, adjusting your sunglasses on your head.

Luke laughed slightly, walking over to sit next to you. “Don’t be ridiculous, bunny. You can take off your shirt.”

You looked over at him, a glare in your eye as he made himself comfortable next to you. “I really can’t.”

“It’s fine.” He said, his voice low. “You’ve done it a million times before, what’s so different about today?” You sighed, rolling your eyes once again. Reluctantly you grabbed the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it up your body. Once you had the shirt halfway up, you glanced over at Cole. He was staring, watching as you slowly removed your shirt. His mouth was parted slightly and you could've sworn drool was going to slip out.

“Nope, nope.” You said, still holding your shirt up. “Can’t do it.” You said glancing over at Luke.

Jack groaned from his seat, tossing his head back slightly. “You're such a baby.”

“Look at Cole!” You pointed toward Cole, whose wide-eyed stare was a dead giveaway.

His face turned even redder, and he immediately scrambled to defend himself. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t staring! I swear!” he stammered, his hands flailing wildly as if that would erase the moment.

Trevor burst out laughing, practically doubling over. “Oh man, Cole, you’re making it so much worse!”

“Exactly!” you shot back, lowering your shirt again and crossing your arms over your chest. “This is why I can’t take it off.”

Jack, who had been observing the chaos with growing impatience, groaned again. “For the love of god, we’re on a lake. You’re wearing a bikini. Just take it off and let Cole get over it already.”

“Easy for you to say!” you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “No one’s staring at you.”

Trevor perked up, his grin widening. “I could stare at Jack if it makes you feel better.”

Jack threw a bottle cap at him. “Shut up, Trevor.”

Luke, meanwhile, nudged you lightly with his elbow. “Come on, Bunny. You’re overthinking it. It’s just us.” You sighed, glancing between Luke’s calm expression and Cole’s absolute mortification. Despite the teasing, you knew Luke was right. You’d done this a hundred times before, just not after that incident.

“Fine,” you muttered, your voice begrudging as you peeled the shirt off in one swift motion. You avoided Cole’s gaze entirely, tossing the shirt onto Luke’s lap for good measure. “There. Happy?”

Luke smirked, casually picking up the shirt and tossing it toward the front of the boat. “Much better.”

“Get me a drink?” You asked, pulling your hair into a bun. Luke nodded his head, walking to the cooler and returning with a peach high noon. He handed it over before returning to his spot next to you. He splayed his arm across the back of the boat behind you as you tucked closer into his side. You leaned back on Luke's side, your legs tucked up in front of you as you cracked open the can, staring at Quinn pulling the boat from the dock. “This is nice.” You said with a sigh of relief, leaning your head back to look up at Luke.

Luke glanced down at you, his lips quirking into a soft smile as his arm shifted slightly to rest more securely behind you. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice low enough that it felt like it was just for you. “It is.” The boat cut smoothly through the lake, the gentle hum of the engine blending with the sound of water lapping against the hull. The sun was warm, the breeze just cool enough to keep things comfortable, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt completely at ease.

“Hey, Sunny,” Trevor said, walking over to sit next to you.

“Oh my god.” You groaned out as he took his spot. You lifted your legs so he could sit, then rested them on his lap. “What do you want?”

Trevor lifted his hands in mock surrender, a smug grin forming across his face. “Just wanted to apologize.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical of Trevor’s sudden attempt at sincerity. “Apologize?” you echoed, crossing your arms as your legs remained draped over his lap. “What’s the catch?”

Trevor placed a hand over his heart, his grin never wavering. “No catch. I just felt bad about earlier, you know, with the whole…‘bodacious rack’ thing.” He paused dramatically, glancing at Luke, who was watching him with narrowed eyes. “I realize now that my words may have caused some…discomfort.”

“Oh, you realize now?” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

Trevor nodded solemnly, but his playful expression betrayed him. “Absolutely. So, to make it up to you…” He leaned in closer, his grin growing wider. “I’m offering you the first push when we inevitably throw Luke into the lake.”

Luke snorted, shaking his head. “You’re really working hard to shift the blame, aren’t you?”

“Trevor, the human deflection machine,” you muttered, shaking your head as you took another sip of your drink. “Your apology could use some work.”

“Hey, I’m trying here!” Trevor said, leaning back dramatically as he adjusted your legs on his lap. “But seriously, Sunny, no hard feelings, right?”

You studied him for a moment, his ridiculous grin and puppy-dog eyes impossible to stay mad at for long. Finally, you sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine. No hard feelings.”

Trevor pumped his fist in victory. “Yes! See, Luke? That’s how you handle things like a mature adult.”

Luke smirked, his arm brushing against your shoulder as he leaned closer. “Pretty sure you wouldn’t know maturity if it hit you in the face.”

“Bold words from the guy who’s about to be pushed in,” Trevor shot back, winking at you as if to say game on.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at the chaos brewing. “You’re both children.”

“Children with impeccable charm,” Trevor quipped, holding out his fist for you to bump.

You ignored his fist but gave him a teasing shove instead. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.” Trevor let out a gentle laugh as he leaned back in his seat. You shuffled your position, lounging further into Luke’s side. You glanced over at Cole who sat awkwardly as he talked to Jack, looking uncomfortable as ever. You frowned slightly at the sight. You were used to Cole constantly hitting on you, showering you with compliments, and you wouldn’t admit it but you missed it. “Cole!” You shouted in an attempt to gain his attention. He quickly whipped his head over to you, his face flushing slightly. “Those swim trunks look nice on you.” You said with a smirk before pushing your sunglasses further up the bridge of your nose, leaning your head back to look up at the sky.

Cole’s eyes widened, his posture stiffening as a flush crept up his neck. “Uh- thanks,” he stammered, clearly caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. His gaze darted to Jack, who smirked knowingly, giving him a little shove.

“Relax, man,” Jack teased. “She’s just messing with you.”

“Am I?” you replied, tilting your head slightly, your tone teasing as you kept your sunglasses on. You didn’t bother looking directly at Cole, but you could feel his nervous energy from across the boat. It was almost too easy.

Trevor let out a low whistle, leaning forward from his seat. “Rare occurrence to see her flirting with you. Not even gonna attempt one, Caufield?”

“Yeah, normally you treat her like she’s the love of your life.” Luke chuckled, his arm shifting slightly.

Cole let out a heavy sigh, his face turning bright pink which he tried to cover with his sunglasses. “Alright,” He started, his voice shaky at first. “Come over here, hot stuff.” A satisfied smile wiped across your face as you got up from your spot leaning against Luke. Cole’s sudden confidence caught everyone off guard, including you. As you made your way over, you couldn’t help but smirk, your sunglasses hiding the glint of amusement in your eyes.

“Hot stuff, huh?” you teased, standing in front of him with your arms crossed. “Big talk for someone who’s been blushing like crazy all day.”

Cole leaned back slightly, regaining some composure now that he’d committed to the bit. “Gotta keep you on your toes, don’t I?” he replied, his voice steadier but still tinged with nervous energy. He patted the spot next to him. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging.” You glanced at the others, all of whom were watching with varying degrees of amusement. Trevor was practically bouncing in his seat, grinning insanely hard. Jack looked seconds away from gagging, and Luke raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of Cole’s sudden bravado.

Sliding into the seat next to Cole, you leaned into him slightly, your tone dripping with mock seriousness. “So, what’s the plan now, Mr. Smooth Talker?”

Cole chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh… I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Trevor erupted into laughter, slapping his knee. “Oh man, this is gold. Caufield finally shoots his shot and fumbles it immediately.”

Jack groaned, leaning back with a hand over his face. “This is painful to watch.”

You shook your head, biting back a laugh as you leaned closer to Cole. “Relax,” you said, your voice softer now. “You’re doing fine.”

“Fine?” Cole repeated, his confidence returning slightly. “I think I’m doing great, actually. You’re sitting here, aren’t you?”

Luke, who had been quiet for the past few moments, finally chimed in. “Don’t get used to it, Cole. She’ll be back here in, like, two minutes.”

You turned your head, narrowing your eyes at Luke. “Oh, really?”

Luke shrugged, his smirk smug. “Yeah. You’re just messing with him. I know how this works, Bunny.”

Cole crossed his arms, leaning back as he grinned at Luke. “Jealous, Hughes?”

Luke rolled his eyes, but you caught the slight flush creeping up his neck. “Hardly,” he muttered.

Trevor clapped his hands together, clearly living for the drama. “Alright, let’s settle this with a little wager. How long does she stay over there before she’s back at Luke’s side?”

Jack groaned louder this time, standing up. “I’m jumping in the lake. Someone let me know when this disaster ends.” As Jack dove off the side of the boat, the group erupted into laughter, the tension breaking as you leaned back against the seat, still smirking.

“You’re all ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head.

Cole grinned, nudging you lightly. “Yeah, but you love us anyway.” You couldn’t argue with that.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

After a long day of sitting in the sun, swimming in the lake, and dealing with Trevor, Quinn finally pulled the boat back into the dock. The sun was already setting when you stepped off, Cole’s hand out gallantly to help. You took it gratefully as you stepped onto the dock, the air already cooling down which left you freezing in your bikini.

“Cold?” Treavor asked, walking up next to you.

Your teeth chattered as you tried to warm your arms with your hands. “Very.”

Trevor let out a soft laugh, looking over at you. “Race you to the house.” He said before taking off, sprinting through the yard.

“Not fair, Trevor!” You giggled, following close behind him. As you took off after Trevor, the cool grass tickling your feet, you couldn’t help but laugh despite the chill creeping into your skin. The fading sunlight painted the yard in shades of orange and gold, and Trevor’s exaggerated sprint ahead of you was just enough motivation to push you to keep up.

“Come on, Sunny!” Trevor yelled over his shoulder, his voice full of mischief. “Can’t let me win that easily!” Trevor reached the porch first, dramatically throwing his arms in the air. “Victory is mine!” he declared, spinning around to face you as you came to a stop, slightly out of breath. “Man, you’re slow.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing. “You had a head start, idiot.”

Before Trevor could respond, Jack jogged up from behind, tossing a towel over your shoulders. “Here,” he said softly, his voice a stark contrast to Trevor’s boisterous teasing. “You’re freezing.”

You gave him a grateful smile, pulling the towel tight around yourself. “Thanks, Jack. At least someone’s a gentleman.”

Trevor feigned offense, holding his hand to his chest. “Wow. That hurts, Sunny.”

“It’s true,” Luke said as he strolled up the steps, shaking his head. “You ditch her in a bikini to sprint to the house, and you think you’re winning points?”

Trevor shrugged, unapologetic. “She had fun.”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you said, your voice light despite the threat.

“Promises, promises,” Trevor quipped, dodging past you and into the house before you could retaliate. As you stepped inside, the warm air enveloped you like a hug, and the sound of the others following behind filled the space with a cozy buzz.

Quinn wandered in last, shaking his head at the lingering chaos. “Do you guys ever relax?” he muttered, though there was no real annoyance in his tone.

You plopped onto the couch, wrapping the towel tighter around yourself. “Relaxing is overrated,” you teased, looking up at Quinn. “Right, Quinny?”

Quinn rolled his eyes but smirked as he tossed a sweatshirt your way. “Here. Before you start whining about being cold again.”

“Whining?” you repeated, feigning shock as you pulled the sweatshirt over your head. “You’re lucky I like you, Hughes.”

“Luckiest man alive,” he echoed dryly, shaking his head as he disappeared into the kitchen. You let out a sigh, sinking into the warmth of the couch. You sat back for a moment, watching Trevor and Jack laugh about something on Jack’s phone, Cole mumbling the lyrics to ‘Cardigan’ by Taylor Swift, Luke and Quinn searching the fridge for water bottles, just admiring the scene. You couldn’t have been happier anywhere else, and you were glad you finally made it to the lakehouse.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” You said, standing up from the couch. “Cole, please don’t barge in. I’ll lock the door just in case.”

Cole, mid-verse in his rendition of Cardigan, froze, his face turning red as everyone burst out laughing. “Don’t do that!” he protested, his voice tinged with mock offense. “It was an accident!”

Trevor smirked, leaning against the back of the couch. “Doesn’t mean we don’t expect it, lover boy.”

“Trevor, shut up,” Cole grumbled, glaring at him. “You’re the one who can’t go two minutes without harassing her.”

“Hey, I’m just here to make her day a little brighter,” Trevor quipped, winking at you. “I’d never cross the bathroom boundary.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the towel Jack had draped over you earlier. “Good to know the bar is that low. Thanks for clearing that up, Zegras.”

Jack looked up from his phone, smirking. “Lock the door anyway. These guys are like wild animals.”

“Speak for yourself!” Luke called from the kitchen, holding up a water bottle like it was proof of his innocence. You giggled, ruffling Jack’s hair as you made your way up the stairs.

You loved the lake, but if you were being honest, it made you feel disgusting. Sitting in the heat all day paired with swimming in water where you couldn’t see the bottom was bound to shake you up. You stepped into the shower, letting the hot water entrap your body, washing away every germ on your body. The steam from the hot water filled the small bathroom, cocooning you in warmth as the water cascaded over your skin. It was a relief, both physically and mentally, to scrub away the day’s grime. The mix of sunscreen, lake water, and sweat felt like a distant memory as you lathered soap over your skin, enjoying the sensation of being truly clean again. You tilted your head back, letting the water soak your hair, rinsing away the tangles left by the wind and water. The faint scent of your favorite shampoo filled the air, calming you further as you massaged it into your scalp. The day had been fun, filled with laughter and a little chaos, but this moment, just you and the hot water, felt like exactly what you needed to recharge. You stepped out of the shower, throwing a fresh towel over your body as you walked out of the bathroom. You headed down the hallway, hearing the faint sounds of everyone laughing. It was like music to your ears. You slipped into the spare room, making sure to lock the door behind you this time. You dropped the towel, taking a moment to fix your hair in the mirror before throwing one of Trevor’s Ducks sweatshirts over your head, along with some small athletic shorts. The soft fabric of Trevor’s sweatshirt engulfed you, its faint scent of laundry detergent and cologne oddly comforting. You smiled to yourself, knowing full well Trevor would make a big deal out of you “stealing” his sweatshirt the second he noticed. But for now, it was your little secret. You padded back down the stairs, the wood creaking softly under your bare feet. The living room came into view, and sure enough, chaos was in full swing. Trevor was standing on the couch, dramatically reenacting some story, while Cole was doubled over in laughter. Jack looked utterly unimpressed, scrolling on his phone, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a smile. Luke was sprawled across the floor, throwing an occasional quip into the mix, and Quinn leaned against the wall, shaking his head but clearly amused. You walked over to Quinn first, wrapping your arms around his waist for a hug. You leaned your head against his chest, taking in his fresh scent. Judging by his wet hair and the warmth of his clothes, he’d also showered, unlike the other guys.

“I’m so exhausted.” You croaked out, digging your face further into his chest.

Quinn chuckled softly, his hand instinctively resting on the back of your head as he returned the hug. “Long day, huh?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.

“You have no idea,” you mumbled, your words slightly muffled by his shirt. “Between the lake, the sun, and Trevor being Trevor, I’m wiped.”

He smirked, his hand brushing gently down your back before he pulled away slightly to look at you. “You still gonna have energy to deal with round two tomorrow?”

You groaned, leaning against him. “I might need to sleep for like, twenty hours first.”

He shook his head, his smirk softening as he looked back at you. “Go sit down before you fall asleep standing up.” You nodded, letting him guide you toward the couch where Jack quickly shuffled to make room. You plopped down beside him, tucking your legs under you as you pulled Trevor’s oversized sweatshirt tighter around your body.

“Nice sweatshirt, Sunny,” Trevor said, raising an eyebrow as he finally noticed. “Looks familiar.”

You glanced up at him with an innocent smile. “Oh, this? No idea where it came from.”

Jack snorted. “You’ll never get it back anyway. She’s stubborn.”

“Exactly,” you said with a grin, leaning back and resting your head against Jack’s shoulder. “It’s mine now. Deal with it.”

Trevor rolled his eyes but grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Fine. But only because it looks better on you.”

“Everything looks better on her.” Cole let out with a soft smile as he laid back on the couch.

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Smooth, Caufield. Very smooth.” The group erupted into laughter again, and you couldn’t help but smile, the exhaustion of the day melting away as you relaxed into the warmth and chaos of this little family.

“Alright,” Quinn started, raising a hand as he stood in front of the couch. “First night at the house, what’s for dinner?”

“Pizza!” You shouted, raising both your hands in the air.

Jack chuckled, putting his arm around your waist to pull you up closer. “Yes, pizza!” He yelled.

Quinn smirked, shaking his head at the sudden burst of energy. “Alright, pizza it is. Who’s calling it in?”

“Not me,” Trevor said, holding his hands up defensively. “Last time I ordered, you all complained about the toppings.”

“That’s because you thought anchovies were a good idea,” Luke quipped from his spot on the floor. “You’re banned from ordering.”

“Hey, anchovies are a valid choice,” Trevor shot back, pointing a finger at Luke. “You’re just uncultured.”

Quinn sighed, already pulling his phone out. “Fine. What do we want?”

“Pepperoni,” Jack said immediately, his arm still casually draped around you. “Keep it classic.”

“Hawaiian,” Cole suggested, earning groans from most of the group.

“No pineapple!” you and Jack exclaimed in unison, making the others laugh.

“Alright, alright, pepperoni and maybe a veggie for balance,” Quinn said, ignoring the chaos as he dialed the number. “Anything else?”

“Breadsticks!” Luke called out, raising his water bottle like it was a toast.

“And wings!” Trevor added, clearly back in high-energy mode.

Quinn sighed but nodded, pacing to the corner of the room as he started placing the order. “You guys are lucky I’m feeling generous.”

You leaned back against Jack, letting out a contented sigh. “See? This is why you’re my favorite, Quinn.”

“Careful, Sunny,” Trevor teased. “Jack might get jealous.”

Jack scoffed, giving your side a playful squeeze. “Please. I’m her favorite, and we all know it.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, pretending to think. “Debatable.” The group laughed, and the warmth of the moment settled over you like a blanket. The boys continued their chatter as Quinn called the pizza place from the corner. You pulled out your phone as Jack moved to the corner of the couch, pulling you along with him. You rested your back against him, his arm draped around you, tracing careful circles on your skin. As you scrolled through your phone, you couldn’t help but feel the soothing rhythm of Jack’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. It was a small gesture, but one that anchored you amidst the playful chaos surrounding you. The hum of the boys’ voices filled the room, their laughter punctuated by Trevor’s dramatic retelling of some ridiculous story, likely exaggerated for effect. You scrolled on instagram, catching a post by the Devils of Nico and Timo. Your curiosity took over as you pressed on Nico’s tag, beginning to scroll through his profile. You smiled, looking at pictures of him back home in Switzerland. One of him crouching next to a dog in a flower field made you blush as you zoomed in on his face.

“Why are you looking at Nico’s instagram?” Jack asked, his voice quiet.

“Why are you looking at my phone?” You snapped back, leaning your head up to look at him.

Jack raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You’re on my teammate’s profile, zooming in on his face. It’s hard not to notice.”

You huffed your breath, setting your phone down. “Maybe, if you just let me have a shot at him I wouldn’t-”

“Oh no, no, no,” He interrupted. “No way in hell am I gonna let you do that. We’ve been over this.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back to fully face him, his arm still resting loosely around you. “Excuse me?” you said, your tone dripping with mock offense. “Let me? Since when do you get to decide who I can or can’t date?”

Jack’s smirk faded slightly, replaced by a stubborn set to his jaw. “Since it’s Nico,” he said firmly, his voice low. “He’s not some random guy you can flirt with. He’s my captain. My teammate.”

“And?” you countered, crossing your arms. “What does that have to do with me? It’s not like I’m asking for your permission.” Jack groaned, running a hand through his hair. “What, are you worried I’d distract him? Or embarrass you?”

“No!” Jack said quickly, but the flicker of guilt in his expression made you narrow your eyes.

“Wow, that’s exactly what it is, isn’t it?” you said, your voice laced with disbelief. “You think I’d embarrass you.”

Jack sighed, his hand still tracing slow circles on your arm as if trying to calm the brewing storm. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” you pressed, your voice softer now but still holding its edge.

Jack hesitated, his eyes flickering down to where his hand rested on your arm. “I just…It’s complicated, princess. Just- shit I'd rather not get into right now.” He said, his hand moving to rub his face. You softened slightly at Jack’s uncharacteristic hesitation. It wasn’t often he struggled to find the words, and the way his hand rubbed his face told you he was trying to bury something deeper than the surface-level teasing you were used to.

“It’s complicated?” you repeated, your tone quieter now, curiosity lacing your words. “Jack, you know that’s not gonna fly with me. Just spit it out.”

Jack sighed, dropping his hand from his face to rest it on the back of the couch. “It’s just… weird, okay? You and Nico. I can’t explain it.”

You tilted your head, studying him as he avoided your gaze. “Weird how? Like, you’re protective of him? Or…?” You trailed off, waiting for him to fill the silence.

Jack let out a frustrated laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, alright? I don’t want to see you with him. It’s not about Nico. It’s about…you.”

Your stomach flipped at his words, but you kept your expression neutral. “About me?”

Jack finally met your eyes, his gaze steady and uncharacteristically serious. “Yeah. About you. I’m used to having you around, and I don’t want anything to change.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability. “Jack-”

“It’s stupid, okay?” he said quickly, cutting you off before you could say more. “Just forget I said anything.”

You shook your head, sitting up straighter. “No, it’s not stupid. Jack, if you’re trying to tell me something, just say it. I’m not gonna bite.”

He groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. “It’s not that easy.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “Then make it easy. It’s me, Jack. You can tell me.” Jack sighed again, his eyes flicking back to yours. For a moment, he looked like he was on the verge of saying something, but then Trevor’s loud voice broke through the tension.

“Hey! Pizza’s here!” Trevor yelled from the front door, his excitement cutting through the quiet.

Jack immediately pulled away, the moment dissipating as he ran a hand down his face again. “Saved by the bell,” he muttered, standing up and avoiding your gaze. You stayed on the couch, watching him go as your mind raced. There was something there, something he wasn’t ready to admit, but the weight of his words lingered, leaving you wondering what exactly he was holding back.

“You good, bunny?” Luke asked, standing in front of you as you processed the interaction with Jack.

“Yeah, yeah. I-I’m good.” You stammered out, getting up from your seat on the couch.

Luke smiled, placing an arm around your shoulder to pull you close. “Good. We have a pizza to demolish.” He said, shaking you slightly in his arm. You laughed softly, allowing Luke to guide you toward the dining area where the rest of the guys were already gathering around the table. Trevor was handing out plates with exaggerated flair, Cole was busy inspecting the pizza boxes like he was on quality control duty, and Quinn was unboxing the breadsticks with the precision of a surgeon. Jack was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. His expression was unreadable, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment before he turned his attention back to the pizza. You felt a twinge in your chest, but Luke’s arm around your shoulders helped ground you.

“Sunshine, c’mere.” Quinn said from the counter where he unboxed the breadsticks. You escaped Luke’s grasp, skipping over towards where Quinn stood. You got up next to him, putting your face close to his as he looked down at the box.

“What’s up?” You asked playfully.

“Got these just for you,” He said, holding up two small containers of ranch. “Don’t let Cole see ‘em.” He laughed quietly before slipping them into the pocket of your hoodie.

You beamed at Quinn, his quiet thoughtfulness making your chest warm. “You’re the best,” you said, slipping your arms around his waist for a quick hug.

“Don’t let that get out,” he teased, patting the top of your head affectionately. “Gotta keep my reputation intact.”

Trevor, never one to miss a beat, leaned against the counter dramatically. “I feel like I’m missing out on a secret conspiracy. Sunny, spill the tea.”

“Um there is no tea,” you replied, grabbing a slice of pizza and making your way back to the table. “Unless you count Quinn looking insanely good handling those breadsticks.”

Trevor’s jaw dropped in mock shock as the rest of the table erupted into laughter. “Whoa, whoa, pause. Is this the first time you’ve hit on Quinn outside the group chat?” Trevor asked, pointing dramatically between you and Quinn. Quinn, unfazed, smirked and shook his head, placing the breadsticks on the table.

Jack, who had been leaning back in his chair, finally chimed in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, princess, tell us more about Quinn’s breadstick skills.”

You rolled your eyes, biting into your pizza. “Don’t be jealous, Hughes. It’s not a good look on you.”

Jack’s smirk faltered, his brow arching slightly as he stared you down. “Jealous? Of him?” He gestured toward Quinn. “I don’t need breadsticks to be the favorite.”

“Debatable,” Luke quipped from his spot, grinning. “Quinn’s got the ranch hookup. That’s game changing.”

“Thank you, Luke!” you said, gesturing toward him with your slice. “Finally, someone understands the value of ranch.”

Cole, however, narrowed his eyes suspiciously, leaning forward in his chair. “Wait. Ranch? Where’s the ranch?”

“Uh, nowhere,” you said quickly, pulling the hoodie pocket closer to your body. Cole’s gaze darted toward Quinn, then back to you.

Quinn raised his hands in mock innocence. “Don’t look at me, Caufield. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“There’s no ranch,” you said firmly, though the slight smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. The dinner consisted of stories about past summers, laughs over things Cole had said, Luke attempting to do a backflip in the kitchen which ended with a face plant to the floor and a “You’re gonna get injured before the season even starts” from Quinn. You smiled, taking in the scene before you, just grateful you made it to this moment. After you all finished with dinner, everyone made their way to the back deck for a bonfire while you and Quinn stayed back to clean up. The soft hum of laughter and chatter drifted in from the back deck as you and Quinn gathered plates and empty pizza boxes. The kitchen felt warm, not just from the remnants of the oven’s heat but from the lingering joy of the evening. You caught Quinn’s eye as he stacked a few plates, his expression calm and content.

“Hey, is Jack acting…weird- to you?” You asked, cutting Quinn off guard as he finished stacking the plates.

Quinn paused, his hand hovering over the stack of plates as he turned to look at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “Weird how?” he asked, his tone steady but curious.

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I don’t know, he’s just been... quieter than usual. And earlier, he said some stuff that didn’t really make sense. Like, he wanted to say something but couldn’t.”

Quinn tilted his head, considering your words. “Jack’s always been a little hard to read. But yeah, now that you mention it, he did seem a little off tonight.”

You leaned against the counter, crossing your arms. “It’s like he’s holding something back, but I can’t figure out what. It’s...frustrating.”

Quinn’s eyes softened as he studied your face. “You two are close. Maybe he’s trying to work through something but doesn’t know how to talk about it yet.”

“Maybe,” you murmured, your gaze drifting toward the back door where the sound of Trevor’s exaggerated laugh carried through. “I just feel like there’s something I’m missing.”

Quinn set the plates aside and turned to face you fully, his expression calm and reassuring. “Give him some time. If it’s important, he’ll talk to you when he’s ready. Jack’s stubborn, but he’s not one to keep things bottled up forever.”

You smiled faintly, appreciating his steady presence. “Thanks, Quinny. You always know what to say.”

He smirked, bumping your shoulder lightly. “Someone’s gotta keep the peace around here.” The two of you stood there in silence for a moment. Quinn, glancing down at the floor, fiddling with the keys in his pocket and you, crossing your arms as you stared into the living room entryway. “Listen, sunshine,” He started, breaking the silence. “There’s something i’ve been wanting to talk to you about-”

Before he could continue, Trevor’s voice rang out from the deck, louder than before. “Sunny! Quinn! Stop being lame and get out here! The marshmallows are calling!”

Quinn let out a sigh, pushing off from his spot against the counter. “We’ll talk later.” You nodded, though curiosity flickered in your chest at Quinn’s abrupt pause. He gave you a small, reassuring smile before heading toward the back deck, the sound of Trevor’s persistent shouting growing louder as he opened the door. You followed close behind, filing the moment away in your mind to revisit later. The deck was alive with the glow of the fire and the warm energy of the group. Luke was busy toasting marshmallows, though half of his attempts ended up charred. Trevor was narrating his process like he was on a cooking show, while Cole argued about the correct marshmallow-to-chocolate ratio for the perfect s’more. Jack, as usual, lingered on the edge of the chaos, leaning against the railing with his hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket. You grabbed a chair near the fire, letting the warmth soak into your skin as the cool lake breeze rustled through the trees. Jack’s quiet demeanor didn’t escape your notice, and your earlier conversation with Quinn lingered in your mind. After a while, Quinn sat beside you, nudging your knee with his. “Feeling better?” he asked, his voice low enough to stay between the two of you. You nodded, glancing at him with a faint smile.

Trevor’s loud laughter broke through your moment, drawing your attention back to the group. “Jack!” he called, pointing dramatically at his friend. “Stop brooding over there and make a damn s’more.”

Jack rolled his eyes, pushing off the railing and walking over. “I’m not brooding.”

“Sure,” Luke said with a smirk, handing Jack a marshmallow. “That’s why you’ve been staring at the fire like it owes you money.” Jack snorted, but his gaze flickered to you briefly before he sat down across the fire. You caught his look and held it for a second, a silent question hanging between you, but he quickly turned his attention to skewering the marshmallow.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The night air had grown cooler, and the flickering embers of the fire cast long shadows as you stretched, feeling the day’s exhaustion settle into your bones. Cole and Luke had already disappeared inside, their playful banter fading into the house as they headed to bed. Quinn had followed not long after, muttering something about being the responsible one and making sure the fire was fully out. You, Jack, and Trevor were the last to carry your tired bodies inside. You walked into the house next to Trevor while Jack followed not far behind. You rubbed your eyes, ready to get a real goodnight's sleep, unlike the night before.

Trevor let out an exaggerated yawn as he reached the spare room, quickly moving to give you a side hug. “G’night, Sunny.”

“Night, Trev.” You said, your voice raspy as you craved sleep. You released yourself from Trevor’s hug, mirroring his yawn as you walked. You made your way to Jack’s room, your hand just barely touching the doorknob before he spoke up behind you.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice low but laced with a sort of sterness you’d never heard from him.

You turned to face him, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Uh…going to bed?” You replied with a sassy tone.

Jack rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “That’s my room.”

You scoffed, moving away from the door. “Yeah, obviously. This morning you said-”

“Yeah, but I decided I want to sleep in my bed tonight.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms in defiance. “Oh, so now you’re kicking me out?”

Jack shrugged, leaning casually against the wall. “Pretty much.”

You groaned, throwing your hands in the air. “Jack, I’m exhausted. Just let me crash in your bed. You can take the couch.”

“No.”

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to not make eye contact. “I don’t know what the hell is going on with you tonight,” You said, tilting your head back down to face him. “I don’t know what kind of shit you’ve got going on in your life that you won’t talk to me about, but don’t take it out on me.”

Jack pushed himself off the wall, his expression growing meaner. “The kind of shit I've got going on doesn’t concern you.” (IT TOTALLY DOES) He said with a nasty tone as he moved closer to you. “Go sleep in the bed you were given at the beginning of this trip.” Your jaw clenched at his words, and you could feel the sting of them settle in your chest. Jack had always been quick with his sarcasm, but this felt different, harsher, colder. You took a small step back, crossing your arms tightly across your chest like you were shielding yourself.

“Wow,” you said, your voice quieter now but still firm. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to care about you anymore.” Jack flinched at your words, his mean exterior cracking for just a moment. He opened his mouth to respond, but you held up a hand, cutting him off. “Whatever,” you said, shaking your head as you turned toward the hallway. “I don’t need this right now, Jack. Sleep wherever the hell you want.” You heard the door slam as you made your way down the hallway, your blood boiling with every stomp of your foot. You made it to the spare room, cracking the door slightly to get a look at Trevor and Cole. Trevor was man-spreading over the entire bed, snoring even louder than last night. You looked down to see Cole on your air mattress which was fully deflated at this point. You let out a sharp sigh, not knowing where to go.

“My room’s always an option. No snoring, no body-slamming. Just saying.” Quinn’s words from this morning echoed in your mind as you took in the scene in front of you. The thought of Quinn’s offer lingered, a tempting alternative to the chaos of the spare room and the sting of Jack’s harsh words. You closed the door quietly, leaning against it for a moment to steady your racing thoughts. The day’s exhaustion tugged at your body, and all you wanted was a peaceful place to sleep. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself off the door and made your way toward Quinn’s room, your steps quiet as the house settled into silence. When you reached his door, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the handle. Is this a bad idea? you wondered, biting your lip. But the muffled sound of Trevor’s snoring and the image of your deflated air mattress pushed you to turn the knob. The door creaked softly as it opened, revealing Quinn’s room in complete pitch black darkness.

You carefully walked over to the edge of the bed, seeing Quinn with his eyes closed and his hair tousled against the pillow. “Quinn,” You whispered. He stirred slightly at the sound of your voice, his eyes fluttering open as he turned his head toward you. The dim light from the hallway illuminated his face just enough for you to see his sleepy confusion.

“Hmm?” he mumbled, his voice groggy. “What’s up?”

You quickly moved your knees onto the bed. “Scooch over.” Quinn let out a soft smile through his closed eyes as you pulled the comforter over your body. “Cole took over my air mattress.”

Quinn let out a low chuckle, his voice still thick with sleep. “Of course he did,” he muttered, shifting slightly to give you more space. His arm brushed against yours as he adjusted the blanket, the warmth of his presence instantly comforting.

“Thanks,” you murmured, sinking into the mattress. The bed was far more comfortable than your deflated air mattress had ever been, and you couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

He turned slightly, lying on his side to face you. The faint glow from the hallway cast just enough light for you to catch the gentle amusement in his eyes. “You gonna steal all the blankets, or are we sharing?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I’ll share, but no promises if I get cold.”

Quinn chuckled again, his hand tugging the comforter up over your shoulders. “Fair enough.” As the silence settled between you, the warmth of the bed and the quiet intimacy of the moment began to sink in. You shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, and your leg brushed against Quinn’s. The faint contact made your heart skip, but before you could move away, his arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Better?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath caught for a moment, but the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his breathing calmed you. “Yeah,” you said softly, relaxing into his hold. “Much better.” Quinn’s fingers rested lightly against your back, his touch gentle and unassuming. You let your head rest against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulling you into a sense of calm you hadn’t felt all day. His other hand came up to rest lightly against your shoulder, holding you close but not overwhelming.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled, your voice heavy with exhaustion as you nestled closer.

He let out a soft hum, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Guess I’m good for something.” You smiled against him, the tension of the day melting away as you let yourself relax fully in his arms. His presence was steady, grounding, and you couldn’t help but feel safe as the quiet of the room wrapped around you both.

“Goodnight, Sunshine,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet fondness.

“Goodnight, Quinn,” you replied, your words barely audible as sleep began to pull you under. With his arms around you and the warmth of his body against yours, you finally felt at peace.

#freeabortionslol #lake house groupchat #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes #trevor zegras #cole caufield #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #trevor zegras x reader #cole caufield x reader #jh86 #lh43 #qh43 #cc22 #tz11 #cc13

786 notes · View notes

artistsfuneral · 1 month ago

Text

Hey, remember that really cool witcher fic I never wrote bc it's living rent free in my head? Yes this one:

Lambert gets captured by a mage, for some plot reason, and to avoid getting killed by the rightfully angry witcher, the mage curses Lambert's senses.

His vision is terribly blurry, think dark vignette around the corners, messy shapes, more a constantly shifting, wobbly mess than anything else. He can't see. It hurts to open his eyes because he can't even control his pupils anymore so light just gets in and - yeah it's not great.

He is deafened. A normal human would probably be unable to hear anything, but he's a witcher. It all sounds like his head is held under water. He can't make out any of the quiet noises and everything loud sounds distorted and really far away. Lambert is in a lot of danger.

He also can't talk. Not in words at least. He can growl and whine and scream and- He doesn't need to be able to hear himself to know that he sounds more like an animal.

The only thing the mage has left him with is his sense of smell (and touch). The idiot probably had no idea just how good a witcher's sense of smellcan be and it's Lambert's main tool of survival now.

So Lambert somehow manages to escape anyways - because it's Lambert and Lambert is awesome and there needs to be plot to this. But it's also winter and everything is just loud and bright and cold and oh gods what the fuck is he supposed to do?

He can't see anything. Light reflects off of snow and right into his blown out pupils, effectively blinding him. The sound of his boots against the snow is incredibly disorienting. Every crunch seems to echo in his ears and he can't make out anything else. There's only one way for him to go and it's foreward. Away from the smell of ozone and into the forest.

He stumbles and falls and gets up just to stumble all over again - he just wants to get away, it doesn't matter into which direction he's walking, as long as he's getting further and further away from that hellhole

And then he stumbles again, trips through the snow and down a goddamn cliff - thankfully the snow cushions his fall but yeah... He's not doing so peachy. He loses his consciousness (like all good characters do) and he thinks that's it, he's going to die in a heap of snow. He hopes his brothers won't think he fell on purpose. Despite how much he complains he would never actually leave them behind like this....

What Lambert doesn't know is that he's basically fallen into the temporary camp of the cat caravan. And they look at him and decide yes, they are going to keep this absolutely pathetic (broken, bloody, too thin, shivering, wet, barely alive) looking witcher.

When Lambert wakes, he panics (obviously) and his fight or flight kicks in hard. There's strangers all around him and they're trying to hold him down and they're strong and gods above this is fucking scary! And then- then his hand meets a familiar object. A medallion. He freezes up, clutches at the medallion like he's holding onto his own lifeline- and then a hand takes hold of his and leads it to another medallion and with his hand against their chests he can feel their witcher-slow heartbeats and oh thank fuck-

(i am procrastinating by writing this down, need to post it now or else i will be sitting here til tomorrow, avoiding my actual task but do let me know if you want to hear how this continues because yes theres a lot more of this in my brain)

#rambles #the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #witcher #aiden #lambert #witcher lambert #laiden #lambden

181 notes · View notes

lixies-favorite-cookie · 3 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?!・l.f.

—Even after your bodyguard saved your life you insist that you don't need his help, maybe you feel a little different after he drops his weapon in the middle of a fight—and forces you to admit you need him.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・lee felix x fem!reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・action, fluff, crack, enemies to lovers // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・cursing, death of bad guys, blood, cursing, guns, knives, felix being a little shit, did i mention cursing?? (its my mother tongue)

𝐚/𝐧・BOO BITCHES!! haha i'm back after being gone for a... month...yeah...sorry. this is just something silly i had originally planned to put into my bodyguard!lix fic, but i ended up changing the plot so i can no longer (maybe) use it, though i loved it so much i just decided to post it :)) alsoooo does anyone want to be tagged in bodyguard!lix fic??

How the fuck did you manage to get yourself into this situation? Is all you can think of as the room swarms with men, all armed with various weapons, effectively backing yourselves into a corner.

Well, shit.

The walls are cold and hard as you fight your way to the door, driving your throwing knives into any vulnerable place your enemy shows. Men are falling all around you both by your hands and Felix's. It's all a blur—arrows wizz by your neck, mallets swinging around your head.

"Watch out!" Felix shouts. He places his hands around your waist. You are in the air before you can even blink. An arrow hits the cracked cobblestone where your forehead would have been.

Holy shit.

"Thank you," you throw over your shoulder, yanking the arrow out of the wall, launching it into the final man's chest fumbling with his bow right before he collapses. "But I didn't need your help."

Felix barks out an incredulous laugh, pressing his tongue into his cheek. Momentarily he is baffled before something else passes over his expression.

"Fine," he rests his back against the wall, dropping his bloody knife onto the floor, much to your horror.

"Felix, what the fuck—" you don't even get to complete the sentence before another man is sprinting towards you, appearing from the entryway red-eyed and vengeful, fueled by the death of all his comrades. You launch a knife at his jugular. He crumples like a rag doll.

"Felix, pick the knife up," you shout frantically, watching as six more men swarm into the hallway charging toward you. They really don't seem to like you. You move to pull more knives out of your seethe only to find you have four left.

"Felix, this isn't funny, pick the fucking knife up," you demand, far too afraid to be ashamed about the slight trembling in your tone. You send him a look over your shoulder, their stomping growing closer, too close, way, way too close.

"Are you going to admit you need my help?" Felix's obnoxiously smug voice sounds from behind you, practically tasting the smirk in his voice. You grit your teeth so hard they feel like they are going to fall off, but the steps grow louder, too loud.

"I need your help." The words taste so foul in your mouth you almost want to throw the "I hate you" that follows right back up. He smiles, back to his happy, cheery, you-want-to-smack-him-in-the-face-so-bad self.

"Atta girl," he purrs. "Now duck."

You obey.

Two guys breach the entrance, announcing their presence with a deafening battle cry. In one swift motion, Felix pulls a gun from thin fucking air and levels it with their heads. Taking in the mountains of dead bodies, they choose to listen to the barrel of his gun, halting instantly.

"Do you mind? The adults are talking," he chastizes, rolling his eyes as though he is talking to a petulant toddler instead of four knife-wielding guards.

"Where the hell did you get that?" you gasp, pointing to the that in question. He tilts his head, a slow, serpentine smile spreading across his lips. "Oh, this thing?" he flashes it in the light. "I got it from the guard at the gate." You're going to kill him. You're going to take this knife and shove it straight through his stupid, stupid head.

"You've had a gun this entire time?" You seethe, your eye twitching. For a moment, you're so pissed you completely forget about the men awkwardly waiting by the door two seconds away from sprinting.

"I thought you said you didn't need any help," Felix smirks.

"And you chose now to hold me up to my word."

In some half-baked plan to escape, the group charges forward, not before Felix pulls the trigger, shooting all four members square in the forehead—all without ever leaving your gaze. He rolls his eyes, shooting you a look like, 'Do these guys ever learn?' Then, as if nothing ever happened, he says,

"You seemed very adamant."

You were going to punch him, really, truly, you were going to put your fist through his annoyingly beautiful face. Instead, you yank the gun from his hands, clicking the safety and sliding it into the belt of your pants. He doesn't complain as you drag him out of the room, stepping over thick puddles of blood and tangled limbs, cringing slightly as red stains the bottom of your shoe. You wipe it on the floor when you step into the hallway, tiptoeing down the corner.

Somewhere in the distance, murmurs of voices catch your attention. Hiding behind a corner, the shadows cloak you, protecting you from unwanted eyes. The voices loom closer, almost close enough—in complete silence, you could make out the words.

"Hey love, your shoe's untied," Felix speaks from behind you, so loud you spin around, pressing a finger onto his lips in a rush, slowly realizing what little distance is left between you. He smiles against your finger, bringing his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the skin. You fight back a disgusted shriek, instead resorting to a harsh glare and a defiant middle finger.

"I really, truly, to the deepest depths of my soul, hate you," you say, wiping the saliva off your skin.

"Yeah, yeah, save it for the bedroom."

Tonight was going to be a long night.

cookie owns this

#felix x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #skz x reader #stray kids #lee felix #skz #felix imagines #kpop #felix fluff

227 notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 1 year ago

Text

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.

prompt: The Boss passes away, and at the reading of his Last Will and Testament, your lover, Bucky, is named successor - not his older (adopted) brother, John. tension breaks at the funeral.

pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4k+

note: author wants to remind everyone that there are 1,000 different ways to host a funeral; to celebrate a life.

warnings: Mafia AU, cursing, mention of deceased family member, depictions of violence, greed, spoiled brat behavior (not by reader or Buck, you'll see), entitlement, does author ever edit? where is this fic going? author lost sight of the plot but fuck it!

"The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.; read on May 16th, after being last revised on January 3rd, - being of assured sound body, mind, and soul - is to divide assets and bequeath inheritance," the lawyer with thinning hair announced to the room, his baritone voice sending vibrations to the glasses of water set before him.

You tightened your hand in Bucky's flesh one, sharing a small glance together as his mother commandeered all attention by sniffling loudly from the middle of the room. It was a lively sort of office; a high rise with floor-to-ceiling windows, painted a light, pale yellow that glowed in sunlight, a long mahogany conference table, plush, leather rolling chairs, and an array of flavored waters to choose from. Both sparkling and flat.

It felt wrong to be there, totally unreal.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., was read from behind a pair of thick-framed glasses by a portly man in a tacky, summer khaki suit. Mr. Happy had been the Barnes' lawyer for years now, someone The Boss, James Sr., trusted without a doubt. He was the only man trusted to see this division to the end and without conflict, fearing it'd upset Mr. Barnes' soul should his family begin feuding over material items.

"First, to my beloved wife, Mary Beth, who I know will succeed me in death. I to her leave our beach house, the penthouse on Fifth, every car in mine and her name is to be transferred solely into her name, the building, apartment leases in Manhattan so she might continue being landlord and earn a monthly, sizable income. In addition," Happy glanced at Mary Beth, "I bequeath a lump sum of 25% of my savings."

Everyone seemed to think this was acceptable, nodding in agreement as Mary Beth sobbed loudly into a crumpled, saturated tissue. However, Happy paused as he scanned over the document nervously. His throat cleared, informing that John was to get his own share - yet there was no mention of the organization's leadership and the entire room filled with tension. Finally, Happy sighed through his reading of Bucky's inheritance as you took a sip of coffee; revealing he had been chosen as Mr. James Barnes, Sr.'s successor.

Coffee sprayed out of your nose to splatter on the table, making you gag and cough instantly; Bucky patting your back in support as he turned rigid with confusing tension. Mary Beth Barnes gasped dramatically, insisting that couldn't be right.

"What!?" John raged, shooting out of his leather chair so fast, it toppled over. "That's impossible! That should not be possible!"

"I assure you, Mr. Barnes, it's - "

"Bullshit!" John snapped, snatching a copy of The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr..

Happy sighed, "Your father did not leave you the business, John, he left it to Bucky, instead."

"How the fuck - !?" Nobody moved as John read for himself what the legal documents said. He grit his teeth and tossed the padded file to the lawyer, glaring at his family. "So," he seethed, "Father's decided to name Bucky over me."

"What does all this mean!?" Mary Beth asked tearfully.

He smirked, "You two couldn't get pregnant. You tried, tried, tried, but just couldn't, so, you adopted me. But just 3 months after I came home, you were giving birth to Bucky - and even better, you gave him Father's name! My whole life, you've all tried to erase me because the adoption was final and there was nowhere to dump me, but then Father started teaching me about the business. He knew I was the eldest - and succession respects birth order!"

"I didn't ask for this," Bucky snapped, his hand flat on your back as you had stopped choking finally but he didn't want to lift his hand from your inviting warmth.

"No? That why you're the one benefitting from everything?" John sneered.

"Benefitting? From our father dying? I understand you feel scorned, but Father made his decision," Bucky reminded. "And I'm sorry he made you feel as if you were guaranteed this job, but this is how it works. Someone's appointed."

"If you were decent, you'd refuse so I could step in and take my place. You know I'm the better fit!"

Happy shook his head, "That's not how this works, kid."

"Excuse me?" John seethed, turning to the lawyer.

"Bucky can't just refuse and you accept," Happy explained. "If the chosen inheritor refuses, then there's a trial to elect a new Boss. You'd have to plead your case to everyone."

John huffed and turned to Bucky, demanding, "Well?"

"I'm not refusing what Father wanted," Bucky decided, making you freeze. "And I'm not useless, John, I know how to do this job."

He scoffed, "Whatever."

"Hang on a second," you whispered, grabbing Bucky's wrist to lean into his side, barely muttering, "baby, are you sure?" He nodded at you, not quite picking up on the question you asked between the lines.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., had been officially read, and after naming Bucky successor, tore apart a fragile family that was barely knit together with frayed string. He knew his decision would cause disruption, yet Senior Barnes made a decision best based on the needs of the organization - not his sons.

Now that John had stormed off, Happy read the rest of the document to ensure there were as little questions as possible; everyone aware of the temper John harnessed - thinking this was his final trigger that made him snap. After hearing the division of assets, you all parted ways with Happy, who promised he'd be in contact with Bucky soon before telling Mary Beth the money would hit her account in a day.

25% of Senior Barnes' savings to Mary Beth. 25% to John. 50% left for Bucky to operate an ever-profiting business.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr. had torn apart a mother and (adopted) son; two brothers; and while you didn't want to add to the stress Bucky must've felt, you couldn't hold back. When alone in the car, you lashed out at Bucky - demanding to know how he could make such an important decision without at least consulting you.

"We're together, Bucky, and this is a partnership! One person doesn't get to do everything, we make big-time, life-changing decisions together since it's not just your life you're shaking up!"

"This has nothing to do with you!" Bucky snapped back.

"It's everything to do with me!" You argued. "You're not the only one in this relationship, so you don't get to make unilateral decisions!"

"It's not your job, it's not your family - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" You snarled. "Few weeks ago, it was, 'oh, baby, I'm gonna marry you one day. I can't live without you,' and now it's not my family...? What? Not my business? Not my concern?"

"It's up to me to deal with."

"Why couldn't you of just asked for a minute to think?" You asked in a defeated tone. "You could've used a minute or two to talk to me about it before jumping the gun."

"What would you've said?"

"That we could try it out and then if you didn't like it, let it go to trial..."

He nodded, "Not half a bad idea."

"But you didn't think to include me!"

"It's not your life!"

"Oh, go fuck yourself, it's our life. Okay? Like it or not, this is our life we're talking about. Fucking clue me in next time, you irrational fuck."

Bucky took a long breath, "All right, fine, fair enough. I should've included you. I'll do better in the future."

You huffed, crossing your arms, "I doubt it."

Due to the nature of your stress, you didn't push Bucky farther that night. He seemed distracted, and even when you got back to your penthouse apartment, he was sullen and quiet. You spent two hours in bed, alone, tossing and turning, before finally getting up to look for your lover. He was found on the balcony, dried tear tracks left on his cheeks; mutely opening his arm to welcome you onto his lap. Bucky needed you now more than ever, his tears starting again as the funeral now loomed over you all.

Two days later, The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr. was contested on May 18th by... John Walker? Who the fuck...?

"Hi, Happy," you greeted the lawyer at your hotel door, opening it to let him enter.

"Thanks, doll," he smiled. "Where's Mr. Barnes?"

"In here," you lead him to the sitting room, trying to ignore how everyone now called Bucky "Boss" or "Mr. Barnes". When you arrived, the three of you sat to listen to the lawyer speak about whatever he had called an emergency meeting about.

"Who the hell is John Walker?" You wondered softly. "Some rip-off John Wick?

"John, it's John," Happy snickered. "It's John - he's legally changed his adopted name to his birth name. From Barnes to Walker."

"When?"

"Yesterday. Today, he contested the will."

"Fuck's sake," you sighed.

"This inheritance is iron-clad," Happy assured, "but it's enough disruption to shake the men in the organization. Apparently, John's procured a plethora of followers - all ready to march behind him."

"He has fucking supporters?" Bucky mumbled in angry disbelief.

"Enough to make a small dent in our numbers..."

"Can I ask?" You interrupted. "What's John's issue? Why's he so angry?"

Happy glanced at Bucky and saw there was no answer on his lips, so, he told you, "Years ago, Mrs. Barnes struggled to carry children to-term. Eventually, they were told it wouldn't happen, so, they decided to adopt. It took about a year for them to adopt John, but Mary Beth was surprisingly pregnant - gave birth three months after they adopted John, who was about two at the time and understood he had to share the attention of his new parents. That's where the competition started..."

"So, John's mad...?"

"He's the eldest," Happy shrugged. "But Senior Barnes named his firstborn son..."

"What a slap in the face," you frowned, feeling sad for John. "To learn after his father died that... What? He didn't think John was really his son? Was really family?"

Happy nodded, "He was clear when he stated his firstborn son... They were in a feud when Senior Barnes made this revision."

"So, he was just angry - "

"More than that," Happy frowned. "Have you spoken Mr. Stark yet?"

"Tony? Not yet," Bucky answered.

"He's your father's investment banker, works with your father's accountant. John had an unhealthy habit of asking for more and more money to be bailed out. When your father tried to cut him off, he started stealing the money, leading their blow-out."

You blinked in shock.

Bucky just hummed and nodded, deep in thought. "Perhaps it's time to change the banker," he muttered.

"Tony's good," Happy assured, "but John knows how to manipulate people. Your father never wanted to see it, but when John burned through money, he got frustrated."

"Okay," you waved, "new motion. No more business talk until we lay Mr. Barnes to rest, okay? Just let us bury the man, then y'all can plot and plan and do whatever."

"Mr. Barnes - this, Mr. Barnes," he pointed at Bucky, " - has informed me you'll be present going forward...?"

"He did?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, of course, but I'm still asking for a pause," you eased, trying to play down how off-guard you felt. "Let's get through the funeral and we can figure out what to do moving forward."

Bucky agreed and showed Happy out; returning to you not a minute later with his hands on his hips. You cocked your head in question and he answered, "He got rid of the Barnes name..."

"He did."

"He's contesting the will."

"He is."

"He's got supporters in the organization."

"He does."

Bucky took a long breath, telling you, "I'm gonna need your help getting through this, doll."

"That's what I'm here for," you promised.

It was strange, seeing your lover assimilate into such an intense role. You were grateful he had an ON / OFF switch with you, being the kind, sweet, soft-hearted, tender man you fell in love with in private, but the cold, calculating maniac when acting in his newly appointed job. It was intriguing to watch; always content to play dutiful wife when he requested your presence.

You had gone to law school, and because of that, you knew how to take lightning fast notes, so, he liked you being present at his meetings. It was only three days since reading The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., and in the time, Bucky truly took control. He weeded out most of those who supported John over him, "removing" them from their position in the org., trying to set a precedence for the other men who meant to follow him. He wore suits everyday now, had two different phones, and assigned personal security to you and him.

However, come the 21st, everything came to something of a grinding halt at the funeral. It was a simple set-up: the morning started with a mass, then they'd congregate for a viewing, lastly, transport the body to the grave site. You wore black, like everyone else, and kept a hand on Bucky the entire time - knowing his anxiety made him skittish and prone to his fight or flight reaction. He was quiet, stoic, busying himself by keeping a hand on your form; be it your waist, hip, hand, around your shoulders. To save him from any awkward encounters, you accepted people's grievances with kindness.

The mass was pleasant enough. Short, simple, to the point; offering the death rite prayers Mr. Barnes had designated in his final documents. After that, Bucky kept busy by helping load the casket into the hearse to transport him to the funeral home while you intercepted any conversation. Once at the funeral home, you helped bring in all the floral arrangements as Bucky comforted his mother, no sign of trouble yet.

However, right in the middle of the some 600-person strong memorial, there came a small commotion. You flinched when you saw your security guards hit the floor, John emerging from the stunned crowd with a few men flanking his sides. "Well, ain't this real heart-warmin'," he smirked, eyeing the attending patrons. "Funny seein' you here, Tony, 'cause you always hated Old Man Barnes. You, too, Clint," he pointed out different attendants, "'cause I remember you sayin' you wished you hit The Boss with your car that one Christmas party. Mhm, and you, Natasha, so good to see you here after all the stress you and your little gang caused Father."

"John," Bucky grit, but your hands kept him anchored in place.

"Mhm," John eyed you both, "always restrained by your bitch, huh?"

"What're you doing here?" You deflected. "Why make a scene?"

"Ain't no other way to get y'alls attention," he spread his arms in gusto. "I see you haven't responded to my contention."

"Why would I?" Bucky shot back, taking a more relaxed stance as his arm slung around your shoulders. "It's just the woes of a spoiled brat not getting what he assumes are his dues. Didn't you steal enough from Father when he was alive? What's this? You wanna try again to fuck him up in death by stealing the position he left me?"

John's tongue licked over his teeth, "Strong words."

"You're one to talk. Look, for what it's worth, I am sorry you were short handed, but it's not something we can change. You made a mistake, I get that, but it was Father's money you fucked with, that you stole, and you proved untrustworthy. Why the fuck do you think he'd leave the business to you? Listen, I'd love for you to come into the org officially, but not if you're contesting Father's wishes."

"I'm owed more than I was given," John snapped. "Years I endured his wrath and ruin, years I posed as his perfect and diligent son. To find out now, after his death, that I am not even viewed as family...? I didn't ask to be born, I didn't ask for my parents to die, I didn't ask for your mother to have fertility difficulties, I didn't ask to be adopted, and yet it all happened, but he still, until the end, kept me at arms length. I'm owed more than I was given since he stated in legal documents that I am not his son!"

"This is not the time or place," Bucky warned. "Don't fucking do this."

"No? When, then? Why do it later? When I can get through your security now? You know, you're a tough guy to get close to what with all the security you've hired recently," John smirked, opening his arms in bravado, "and yet, here I am."

"When we are not at our father's funeral, we will talk."

"No," John smirked, shaking his head, "we do this now. Here, and now, at your father's funeral."

You yelped when Bucky shoved you down, ducking swiftly himself to avoid John's swinging fist; launching his own attack, and the entire funeral home erupting in chaos. You gasped when hands grabbed your waist and hauled up - yelping in shock when you recognized Steve's tattoos as he shoved through the crowd.

"What the fuck!?" You demanded when set down on the side of the room.

"Boss' orders," he explained, keeping an eye out on the kerfuffle. "Shit - stay fuckin' here!" He barked, turning for the crowd and disappearing. You felt your panic brewing to a new height as you couldn't see Bucky... In fact, you couldn't see any of the regular men you were used to.

A gun fired, you ducked down.

People screamed, a stampede erupting to empty the funeral home as fast as possible as another shot sounded. You were about to follow the mass of people when Sam became visible, obviously struggling to get to you through the throngs of rushing people.

"C'mere, honey," Sam panted, grabbing hold of you and keeping you close.

"What's going on!?" You begged, a third shot echoing, making the last of the people scream in terror and run faster - pushing people out of their way.

"John's come to play," Sam grit, people bumping into him as he did his best to stand as a pillar to keep you safe. "C'mon," he heaved, leading you towards a side door, opening it to reveal Bucky's mother, Mary Beth, and a few other women - gently pushing you inside and shutting the locked door.

"Fucker," you grumbled, trying to open the locked handle. You sighed, hands on your hips, listening to the commotion outside the door and turning to glare at Mary Beth. "Did you know?"

"Know what?" She asked stiffly.

"That your husband resented John because he was adopted?"

She blinked and lowered her head in thought, releasing a deep, long sigh. "I didn't think it was this bad, I honestly thought things were getting better."

"James wrote John out of the will and now Bucky's the one paying for it," you snapped. "How did you not see this coming?"

"John's always been a good boy - "

"You mean a Mama's Boy. But surely you have to realize, a boy needs both his parents. Especially if he can feel the one parent fostering resentment."

The door rattled and you turned for it, the swinging wood revealing your boyfriend's deranged person. He surveyed the room, a heavy glare on his face, blood and bruising visible through his snarl, and when he locked onto your form, he surged forward, breathing, "Sweetheart."

His hands instantly slid over your cheeks, looking frantic as he took in your appearance - searching for any sign of injury. "I'm okay," you promised him, holding his wrists, "but you're not. Fuck's sake, Buck, you're bleeding."

He scoffed, "John wore rings."

"Pussy boy."

"C'mere," he stooped to scoop you in his arms, "gettin' you home."

"Bucky," you whined lightly.

He readjusted you so you were koala hugging his torso, huddling your head into his neck and insisting, "Don't look. Don't look, baby, don't fucking look."

But you did.

Tears filled your eyes when you identified two dead bodies on the bloody floor, and trailing behind you both, Bucky's footprints - in blood. You tightened your hold on him and whimpered.

The fire crackled and coughed ash into the air, a comfortable warmth emitting into the otherwise chilly room. Ice cubes sloshed in crystal, the smell of book leather and stale cologne perfumed the air, and four minds all raced with different thoughts.

Bucky, still bruised and sporting cuts on his face, clenched his jaw as he weighed options in his head. Across from him, on a matching leather loveseat, Sam sat beside Steve, handing the blonde a refilled glass of his desired alcohol. You were pressed to your lover's side, everyone replaying the events of this evening.

Sam and Steve filled you in on what went down, Bucky not making a single sound as his men spoke. The details made you feel lightheaded but you wanted to know, and now, more than before, you understood your new reality. Sam told you the names of the two men killed, names you didn't recognize, before wrapping the story up by explaining there were getaway cars waiting outside for John and his men. You spared a glance at Bucky, then asked the two men across from you, "So, what now?"

Silence.

"Now..." Bucky grit his teeth, speaking lowly and evenly, "I do the job I was given. No successful leader ever wanted their position of influence and power, being a reason I know John's the wrong fit for this job. If I step down, he'll slither in..." He nodded, "Time to be the boss, finally."

Your heart cemented and throat constricted, only able to listen to Sam and Steve agree with Buck, then instantly start planning their next move - not wanting to wait til morning.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., was meant to be something clean, peaceful, and fair, and yet, it was anything but. A family without their patriarch, two confused sons sans a father, millions of dollars worth of inheritance left to be fought over, a wife off the deep end and a mother unavailable to the world; a feud brewing and sides being chose.

It wasn't supposed to come to this, James Barnes, Sr., wasn't a vindictive man. He didn't anticipate this kind of reaction, he just wanted to do something "right" without contest. He was incredibly wrong, though he'd never know it; leaving a mess in his wake that Bucky was responsible to clean.

You listened to the men devise the beginnings of a plan before whispering to Bucky you were going to sleep. After bidding Sam and Steve a goodnight, you left Senior Barnes' home study - you and Bucky moving in basically after The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.. It was a gorgeous home, lost in time; inviting guests into her many halls; to discover all her secrets.

You found the bedroom you and Bucky had claimed, trying not to overwhelm yourself with reality. Truth was, you loved Bucky more than life but you started dating years ago - when he was a different man. When his father's wishes were different. Where different circumstances seemed plausible to your future together. However, this wasn't what you signed up for; and never did you (or Bucky) anticipate for him to be named heir.

You went to bed that night frazzled, rattled, alone, cold, and with severe heart palpitations; wishing to God your man would back down, but knew it was foolish to waste hope on the inevitable.

So, you fell asleep wondering if life with this "new" Bucky was worth living... Did you truly want to be with a man with such a dangerous job? A job that caused a crowd-fight at a funeral before creating need for more funerals? A job that would steal his time, money, effort, attention... A job that would affect you both in ways you couldn't begin to fathom?

Was loving Bucky worth this kind of conflict?

Of course, he was!

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

899 notes · View notes

k0yaz · 6 months ago

Note

Can I request Kamisato Ayato with a mute!reader? I'd prefer the reader to be female and for this fic to be a one shot, fluff or smutt. You can do any tweaking and write the plot, I don't mind if you can't tho<3

love you just the same.

Pairings: kamisato ayato x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, mute reader, established marriage, envy mention, fluff, there’s literally nothing here, I like this, I’m gonna eat ur pet fish btw, uhm no way gex oh no, drinks the air cutely, holy shit I have no warnings for this one, I don’t care for ayato but I like writing for him yk, r u really silly ahshdhdb, not proofread.

A/N: welcome to the kamisato slumber party (I’m sorry I had to) 🕯️

The towering trees loomed over your figure, enveloping you in a long cast shadow rocking back and forth from the occasional gusts of gentle wind traversing in the clear sky. Glancing up, you squinted your eyes and shielded a hand atop your forehead, filtering the flooding rays of sunlight as it shone onto the earth. You held the porcelain cup between your fingers a bit tighter as the soft breeze of Inazuma whistled into your ears, making your mind wander blissfully amidst the comfortable silence.

Lacking the ability to speak has always seemed like a curse bestowed upon you by the gods. You had never understood why it was you who was subjected to the suffering of remaining silent while everyone around you chattered endlessly. You’d part your lips to speak, hoping for something—anything to push past your throat. However, that wish of yours was to no avail. With a hand to your chest, you’d frequently push past crowds of people, mind racing with a longing to speak as they did.

You believed you’d always fall short of others. That you would have nothing more than longing for your desire to be like those who surrounded you, while you were devoid of the ability to utter even a small sound. Or that was what you thought.

Until you had met your husband, Ayato.

His soothing voice was something you always yearned to hear, preferably over the voices of others who only struck shameful envy in you. However, Ayato had always been a kindhearted man, frequently understanding you and remaining patient as he took his time to understand your quirks. He had never once attempted to push you, nor had he harbored even the slightest bit of frustration whenever you had trouble communicating with him non-verbally. He would only let out a hum of understanding and nurture your hand between his, placing his palm atop your knuckles as his eyes locked onto yours and awaited for you to regain yourself patiently.

It was quite nice, really. Although you couldn’t say it, you cherished your time with him. Always huddling shoulder to shoulder affectionately in his embrace, as you felt as if you had the life that you’ve always wanted when you were in Ayato’s arms. Just by that, he could tell. He always understood your every signal, every cue, every gesture even.

You only let out a closed-mouth sigh as you reminisced upon every time your dear husband had been there for you through thick and thin. You adored every detail about him. His pale blue hair swaying through the wind, that gentle smile complimenting his pool-like eyes, the small mole briefly dotted below the corner of his lip…

You could go on and on about him honestly.

“Dear, I’ve brought some tea.”

A quiet, yet sharp voice called out to you from a distance, inching closer to you as your back rested against the smooth bark. Ayato made his way over to the spot you were sitting, lowering himself into the shade to cross his legs in seated position beside you. The cool tone of the shadows shrouded his face as he carefully set down the teapot, giving his complexion a sweet touch.

You flashed him a grateful smile, setting the porcelain cup down to wrap your fingers around the handle of the teapot. Ayato’s gaze simply followed your movements, as if he was carefully tracing each gesture like a hawk. The tea filled a little below the rim of the cup, clouds of steam drifting out of the hot beverage and vanishing into the air. You blew on it with a subtle breeze of wind from your lips, cooling down the tea as its steam wafted in the direction of your breath, the floral smell still present.

Ayato suddenly cleared his throat, extending an arm out to fumble through a pocket in his clothing. He seemed intent on finding it, fingers feeling up every portion as if he had hidden it quite well. You could only cock your head to the side slightly in response, feeling a blink of curiosity overtaking you, and thinking solely about what this might be.

“Here. Happy anniversary, darling. It may not be much but…I hope you do cherish it.”

Ayato suddenly cupped your face, palms angled against your cheeks as he positioned your head to come level to his chest. Slowly and carefully, he slid a small hairpin into the side of your hair, tangling the clip into your strands steadily. You leaned up to touch the pin, fingers ridging along the gold accents surrounding the center gem. And it didn’t take long for your heart to nearly burst from the fuzzy feeling you felt inside upon realizing…

It was your favorite precious stone.

Although you deeply yearned to verbally articulate how happy you were in this moment, how joyous he had always made you feel—you felt strangely content with not being able to express it. Ayato had understood and cared for you enough, knowing full well what you meant although you couldn’t say it. That was more than enough for you. He was everything you could ever ask for in this jealousy struck world.

His hands kept firm against your cheeks, continuing to cup them as he nearly squeezed them together. You swore he was resisting the urge to do that. Everything went quiet, and time stopped as he pressed his lips to your forehead, both of your eyelids lowering shut as you felt your heart flutter at your husband’s affectionate actions.

You would be together in every life. You knew that as a fact. And you prayed to the archons that in the life ahead of you, he’d love you just the same.

A/N: HOLY SHIT I AM SO SORRY I DIDNT UPLOAD EARLIER MY DRIVING LESSONS MADE ME MENTALLY SHUT DOWN AWHWHHEND BUT IM HERE NOW EVEN THOUGH IRS LIKW 3 AM ‼️‼️‼️

174 notes · View notes

chaoticallyfluffy · 8 months ago

Note

"What are you, a cop?" and "Now you see me now you don't" both sound interesting

For "What are you, a cop?"

Billy is deaged (actually deaged. He goes from 15 to 10 or something and doesnt remeber the league) during a mission. He suddenly woke up in the middle of a battle so he's freaked out. the Justice League take down the threat then try to calm the boy down, explaining that theyre heros and here to help.

Billy takes a moment to take that in... then bolts.

It takes a bit to catch the kid, he's surprisingly agile for his concerningly small size, but they manage to get him into the jet and hes pouting in the corner looking angrier than the league has ever seen him.

They try to ask questions. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why are you so thin? Is there anyone we should call? But Billy stays silent and his glares stay intense until he finally speaks.

"I don't talk to pigs." he spits out, giving them the nastiest look as if his glare alone could poison and kill them.

They stare at him for a moment, processing that.

"We're not cops???" Clark says, unconvincingly. Hes never been more confused in his life and has definitely never been confused for a cop.

"Whats wrong with being a cop?" Barry, the forensic scientist, pouts.

They knew that Marvel had a bit of a weird relationship with cops but they didn't realize he hated them, and especially not with such a passion!

The league spends the whole jet ride back to the tower trying to convince Billy that not only are they not cops, but that cops shouldn't be something to be afraid of anyway.

Billy spends the whole trip explaining ACAB to them and that yes, they are in fact cops, and here's all the things that the police system has done wrong that the league have probably also done or been complicit in..

I just want to write Billy radicalizing the Justice League and the league helping to reform the police system.

---

For "Now you see me, now you dont"

In the original comics Billy can and will transform in front of anyone at anytime and they wont realize that it was a transformation. Why?because plot armor. They will just think that the boy ran away right as Captain Marvel appeared or something, and when Billy reappears they don't question it either.

In the fic, its a magic perk that came with the whole Champion of Magic package and its a perk he uses often and irresponsibly. He takes it to the extremes by transforming in front of large crowds (no one questions it), while being recorded (The camera shorts out and stops working completely), and even in front of villains (they curse when the captains escapes yet again, completely ignoring the little boy standing in the middle of their secret base)

The last one is how he figured out that even if he is very much Not supposed to be somewhere, he wont be questioned as long as the only people who see him there also saw Marvel transform in that area. If someone who didn't witness the transformation were to see him, they would realize he wasn't meant to be there and call him out which would cause the witnesses to notice it as well. Leaving the room and then returning would also snap them out of it and he would be questioned.

Its a pretty overpowered ability for a child to have access to and when your a street kid without any video games to play who gets chased out of public parks for being too 'dirty' and can't afford any toys, you have to get creative with your entertainment.

Billy wants to see just how far he can take this power, and decides to transform in front of as many people in one day as possible while on the most highly secure facility in earths orbit- the Watchtower.

Follow Billy as he stretches his powers to their limits by transforming in front of the Justice League while praying he doesn't get caught and see what pranks he's able to pull off in that time!

I really like both of these ideas and I definitely want to write them someday. I already have lots of ideas for ways Billy can abuse that particular power! For now I am focusing on a few other fics but these ones are somewhere in the queue.

#billy batson #shazam #dc #dc captain marvel #justice league #fanfiction #fanfic #dcu #ask game #wip #My writing

249 notes · View notes

genshinluvr · 2 years ago

Text

Burning Desire 2 [Scaramouche's Route]

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Scaramouche x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: After inhaling a large amount of aphrodisiac, you’re now struggling to hold yourself together. You're burning with desire and desperate to extinguish the fiery pit in your stomach. Still, you're hesitant about having one of your boyfriends help you with your problem. Who knew that the first person to “help” you with your problem would only make it worse for you by teasing you and calling you names.

Note: Before you read Scaramouche's route, I want to clarify that because Burning Desire is all pure smut (aside from the first part before the smut routes), the routes/chapters will be shorter than Crave. Crave has its own plot, whereas Burning Desire is a smut-fic where readers make the decision on who's route is going to be next after the first route. Crave will be way longer because every character/group will have their own plot compared to Burning Desire. This applies to all characters, not specific characters. I highly recommend reading the first part of Burning Desire (linked down below) first before reading the routes, but that is up to you! As previously stated in my previous smut-fics, I tried to keep the story as gender-neutral as possible. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut [as per usual], aphrodisiac, spitting, hair pulling, somewhat brat taming, spanking, doggy style, mating press, failed attempts of a dom!reader in one part, reader calls Scaramouche a good boy, oral (reader receiving), fingering, biting

Word Count: 5.5k

Burning Desire "chapters"/routes: [1], [2], [3], [4]

The door flies open, and Scaramouche stands at the doorway, smirking at you. You feel your heart drop in your chest. It’s not like you’re unhappy to see him. You know Scaramouche is going to enjoy teasing you until you break.

“Aw, look at you! So desperate and needy for someone to touch you,” You hear a familiar voice coo mockingly.

The throbbing between your legs continues to rage while you huff and cross your arms over your chest. Scaramouche steps into your room and slams the door behind him and in everyone’s faces.

You and Scaramouche hear Itto ask, “Did he just slam the door in our faces?”

“What? You want to watch Scaramouche and [Y/N] fuck each other’s brains out? Cause I don’t!” Childe huffs from behind the door.

“Let’s give them some privacy. It would be weird for us to hang around while Scaramouche tries to help [Y/N].... relieve their frustrations,” Tighnari clears his throat.

The twenty-three men grumble at Tighnari’s suggestion. Their footsteps slowly fade away, leaving you and Scaramouche in complete silence. You and Scaramouche stare at each other in silence, tension hanging above the two of you like the stars and moon. Scaramouche chuckles, walking toward you while you watch him warily. Scaramouche stops in front of you, squats to your eye level, tilts his head to the side and tips his hat back.

A smirk appears on Scaramouche’s face. You look like a mess. Your pupils are blown wide, your skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat, and your chest is heaving with every heavy breath you take. You look so pathetic, so helpless, and so so cute. Scaramouche nearly burst out laughing just at the mere sight of your desperation. Scaramouche cups your face in his hands and squish your cheeks together, making your lips pucker.

Scaramouche leans in close to your face. “Do you know how pathetic you look right now?” Scaramouche whispers, his breath fanning your face.

You wince and pull your head out from his grasp, mentally cursing to yourself. If the damn aphrodisiac wasn’t affecting you this way, you would’ve wiped that shit-eating grin off his face. Scaramouche lets out a breathy chuckle and pulls away from you. Scaramouche takes his hat off and puts them on the edge of your bed, running his hands through his indigo hair while eyeing you with his indigo eyes.

You gulp and close your eyes, shaking your head. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Scaramouche. I can wait for the aphrodisiac to wear off,” you whisper.

Scaramouche lets out a loud “ha!” before standing up and brushing his clothes. “Don’t lie to me, now. I can see the burning desire and desperation in your eyes. Either let me help you with your problem or continue to suffer. Your choice!”

The aching between your legs continues to grow. Your body feels like it’s engulfed in flames. You’re so hot that you’re starting to drip in sweat. You push yourself off the ground, standing up. Your legs are shaking, and you barely have the energy to stand. So, you collapse on your bed beside Scaramouche’s hat, staring at the Inazuman man, your eyes going out of focus for a mere second.

Scaramouche watches the bead of sweat drip from your chin, landing on your white t-shirt. Your white is practically see-through because of the amount of sweat your shirt is soaking up. He can see the outlines of your breasts through the material and the areolas of your nipples behind the fabric your nipples are poking from behind.

You squeeze your thighs together tightly, hoping it’ll suppress the throbbing between your legs. Scaramouche huffs with amusement and walks toward the bed. Scaramouche stands at the end of your bed, staring you down. You wipe the sweat off your face with the back of your hand, looking away from Scaramouche.

“Scaramouche, please….” you whisper, body shaking with intense need.

Scaramouche leans forward, cupping his ear with his hand. “What was that? I didn’t hear you. Can you say that louder?” Scaramouche asks, laughing to himself.

You scowl at Scaramouche and give him the middle finger. Scaramouche snorts, leaning against your bed. Even when you desperately want to get rid of the burning need between your legs, you can’t stand Scaramouche and his shit-eating grin. As much as you want to shut him up, you’ve been immobilized by the aphrodisiac.

Scaramouche shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s not nice of you to treat me that way. Especially when I volunteered to help you with your,” Scaramouche trails off, grabs hold of your ankles, and pulls you toward the edge of the bed, “problem.”

Scaramouche smirks and cages you against your bed with his arms beside your head with one knee on your bed. Scaramouche leans down until his forehead is pressing against yours. The two of you look into each other’s eyes, not saying a word. Your heart is drumming against your chest. You involuntarily breathe in Scaramouche’s scent, feeling yourself melt against your bed. Scaramouche smirks, cups your jaws in his hands, tilt your head back, and press his lips against the side of your neck.

You gasp, feeling Scaramouche’s soft, warm lips pressing up against the base of your neck. Scaramouche tangles his hands in your hair, peppering kisses up and down your neck, occasionally sucking on your neck. You close your eyes, bite your quivering lips, clutching onto his shirt tightly. You can feel Scaramouche smirk against your neck. He kneels on the bed above you, continuing to do what he’s doing.

He smells so intoxicating that your mouth nearly waters when you breathe in his shampoo. Every touch and squeeze light flames upon your heated skin. Scaramouche trails his lips down further on your neck, reaching your collarbone. You suck in a deep breath and choke on your breath when Scaramouche bites on your collarbone.

“Ah! Scaramouche!” You whimper, your chest pressing up against his when you arch your back.

Scaramouche unlatches his lips from your collarbone and smirks down at you. You stare up at Scaramoche in a lustful daze, your mouth slightly agape, your tongue peeking out from your lips. Scaramouche sticks his thumb into your mouth, catching you by surprise. You look at Scaramouche with wide eyes, unsure of what to do other than to suck on his thumb.

“You filthy little thing,” Scaramouche teases, leaning down to kiss and suck your jaws. “Such a needy, filthy slut,” Scaramouche laughs, pressing his thumb on your tongue.

You narrow your eyes in response and lightly bite down on his thumb. Scaramouche pauses and pulls away from you, staring at you blankly before taking his thumb out from your mouth. You and Scaramouche stare at one another. The corner of your lips quirks up while he narrows his eyes at you and pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

“You know….” Scaramouche trails off, his hands sliding up to your hair. “For someone as needy as you, you sure act like a brat.” Scaramouche hisses, tangling his fingers beneath your hair and tugging on it, pulling your head back with a forceful tug.

You gasp at the feeling. “Oh, fuck,” you moan.

Scaramouche leans into your ear. “If you continue to act like a brat, then I’m going to treat you like one, do you understand?” Scaramouche whispers, biting on your earlobe.

You look at Scaramouche from the corner of your eyes, batting your eyelashes. “Who? Me? Acting like a brat? I would never!” You say, feigning innocence.

Scaramouche narrows his eyes and pushes you back against your bed. You let out an ‘oof’ when you land on your back. You prop yourself up with your arms and watch Scaramouche hop off your bed and kneel in front of where you’re lying. Scaramouche eyes your sleep shorts, shaking his head and “tsking” softly as if he’s scolding you.

Scaramouche drags out a sigh, his indigo eyes flickering up to you. “Soaked through your pants, I see. That’s a shame,” Scaramouche mocks.

He grabs the band of your sleep shorts before ghosting his fingers over the prominent wet patch on your shorts. You jolt when you feel Scaramouche press the pad of his thumb against the damp patch. You whimper and attempt to grab his hand, only for him to slap your hand away.

Scaramouche grabs your shorts bands and tugs at them until your shorts are off, leaving you only in your panties.

You shiver and attempt to cover yourself. Scaramouche grabs both your wrists and pins them to your stomach with one hand while lightly rubbing the damp patch on your panties. Scaramouche licks his lips and touches the small bump beneath your panties. You jolt again when you feel Scaramouche touch your engorged bundle of nerves through the fabrics of your panties.

“And you said you didn’t want my help,” Scaramouche snorts, shaking his head.

You huff and look away, face turning hot. “I didn’t. I would rather wait for the aphrodisiac to wear off,” you mutter.

Scaramouche looks at you with amusement. “Oh? Is that so?” Scaramouche asks, slipping his fingers underneath the band of your panties. “It’s okay to feel this way. It’s not like you can control it anyway.”

Your face continues to feel hot. Scaramouche loops his index fingers around the side of your underwear and pulls your panties off. You nearly hiss when cool air hits your damp core and try to close your legs, but Scaramouche slaps the inside of your thigh. You yelp and rub the tender area with the tip of your fingers.

Scaramouche tosses your panties behind him and releases your hands from his grip. Scaramouche grabs your hips and pulls you to the edge of the bed until your ass is hanging off the edge of the bed.

“You said you didn’t want me to help you, but you’re so wet you’re practically dripping,” Scaramouche says, swiping his fingers up through the wetness between your folds.

You grumble and cover your face with your hands. “Stop trying to humiliate me!” You grumble.

He rolls his eyes and licks his fingers. “I’m not. Quit whining.” Scaramouche snorts.

You open your mouth to retort but are cut short when Scaramouche latches his mouth onto your dripping wet heat. Your back arches and your legs are spread apart on the bed, giving Scaramouche full access to your dripping core.

Scaramouche has an iron grip on your thighs, leaving finger marks on your thighs. Scaramouche swirls and swipes his tongue on your core while you writhe beneath him. The sound of slurping and your whimpers fill the once-silent air in your room. Scaramouche throws one of your legs over his shoulders, bringing you closer to him. Scaramouche’s teeth scrape against your swollen bundle of nerves, making you gasp and tense in his grasp.

You reach forward and grab Scaramouche’s indigo hair, tangling your fingers in his soft hair. You grit your teeth, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head the more Scaramouche laps at your throbbing core.

You let out a whine. “Scaramouche! Just fuck me already, dammit!” You pull at his hair.

Scaramouche scowls at you and pulls away, licking your juices off his face before slapping your throbbing core. You hiss and release his hair, feeling your entrance clench over nothing. Scaramouche stands and begins to slowly strip his clothes off in front of you.

You watch the fabrics and small accessories pool around him on the ground. Scaramouche is left in his boxers before he steps toward the bed. Scaramouche smirks when you give him a questioning look. Scaramouche flips you over on your stomach and forces you to get on all fours.

SMACK!

“Ow! Scaramouche! What was that for!?” You shriek, placing your hand over the area where Scaramouche slapped you.

Scaramouche doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he continues to spank your ass while you’re writing and trying to get away. After what felt like hours, Scaramouche finally stops slapping your ass. You lay on the bed, whimpering and clutching your possibly swollen asscheeks. You’re sure Scaramouche left hand prints on your ass. Dear archons, your ass is stinging so much from the number of slaps Scaramouche had given your butt cheeks. Damn him and that shit-eating grin on his face.

Scaramouche flips you over on your back, caging you in his arms. Scaramouche crashes his lips against yours. Your and his teeth clash against each other while he tangles his fingers in your hair, pushing your legs apart. You subconsciously spread your legs, intertwining your fingers in his hair. Scaramouche takes the opportunity to slip two fingers into your wet heat, catching you off guard.

You let out a choked gasp and broke the kiss between you and Scaramouche. You grip both of Scaramouche’s biceps, digging your nails into his arms. You groan and tense up the deeper Scaramouche’s fingers go into you. Scaramouche continues to insert his index and middle finger inside of you until he’s knuckles deep inside your entrance.

Your eyebrows are furrowing, your mouth agape in an ‘o,’ eyes bleary with lust. Scaramouche smirks and slowly pulls his fingers out before slamming them back inside. Your entire body tenses up, and a mix of moans and whines escapes from you. Scaramouche uses his thumb and digs the nail into your bundle of nerves. You grit your teeth, gripping your bedsheets with tight fists.

“Why can’t you just fuck me already instead of tormenting me?” You ask through clenched jaws.

Scaramouche feigns innocence. “Because it’s fun seeing you writhe beneath me, beg me to fuck your brains out, and cry out my name until you become frustrated,” Scaramouche replies.

“Scaramouche, I swear, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to find someone else to do it instead,” you hiss, attempting to sit up.

Scaramouche clicks his tongue and pulls his fingers out from your core, making you tense up momentarily. Scaramouche shoves his index and middle finger into your mouth, nearly choking you.

“Suck.”

You narrow your eyes at Scaramouche. As much as you want to bite his fingers out of spite, you just want him to fuck you already until the firey pit in your stomach is gone. So, you complied and began to suck and lick his pointer and middle fingers, tasting your juices that coated his fingers.

Scaramouche shoves his fingers farther back, the tips of his fingers touching the back of your throat. You gag around his fingers, your eyes watered, and you glare at him through the tears in your eyes. Scaramouche snickers and pulls his fingers out of your mouth.

“What? Don’t give me that look! You should be grateful that I’m going to be fucking you until you can barely walk,” Scaramouche says nonchalantly.

You lie on your back and close your eyes, wiping the stray tears that made their way down your cheeks. You hear clothes rustling and falling to the ground. Damn him, and damn him for being the first one to volunteer to help you with your problem. Why couldn’t it be Heizou instead? At least Heizou wouldn’t be teasing the hell out of you until you break. Actually… Heizou would probably do the same, but he would be more gentle, unlike the indigo-haired male standing before you.

You’re pulled out from your thoughts when Scaramouche is now looming over you, one arm propping himself up beside your head. You watch Scaramouche grab his erect cock with the other hand. Scaramouche pumps his cock a few times with his fist and taps the mushroom tip of his cock against your folds after pushing your legs apart with his knees. You bite your lips with anticipation, letting out a pathetic whimper when Scaramouche rubs his cock up and down your spread legs.

You grit your teeth and dig your nails into the palm of your hands, trying your best to be patient when you know your patience is about to snap at any moment. Scaramouche lines the bulbous tip of his cock in front of your entrance and looks at you through his lashes. Scaramouche teases your entrance by rubbing his dick up and down your folds, lightly brushing against your bundle of nerves.

You whine and lightly pound your fist against his chest. “Scaramouche! Please, just fuck me already! I can’t wait any longer!” You whine.

Scaramouche pushes himself off of you and grips your neck with one hand while the other remains on his hardened cock. Without warning, Scaramouche shoves his cock inside of your awaiting, dripping heat. You gasp and feel your entrance tighten around Scaramouche’s cock. You wrap your legs around Scaramouche’s waist, thighs clenching while he slams the rest of his cock inside of your throbbing entrance.

Scaramouche clenches his jaws. “Relax, will you?” Scaramouche grunts, grabbing the plush of your thighs and shoving them apart before he buries his dick to the hilt.

You whimper and wrap your arms over his shoulders, clawing at his back. “I’m trying! It hurts!” You whine while digging your nails deep into his back.

“It’ll only hurt more if you continue to tense up like this!” Scaramouche growls, pressing his hips against yours and staying still.

You pant, tilting your head back against your pillow, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your thighs are beginning to feel sore, but it doesn’t hurt as much as your entrance does. You feel so full, so, so full. Scaramouche blindly reaches for your legs and pushes them up against your chest, folding you in half.

You unintentionally let out a loud moan, feeling the tip of his cock touching the deepest part of your insides. Scaramouche lays on top of you, his arms caging you between his body and your bed. Scaramouche grabs your jaws and forces you to open your mouth. You look at Scaramouche through the lustful haze, your mouth wide open. Scaramouche spits into your mouth, catching you off guard.

He closes your mouth and thrusts forward. “Swallow,” Scaramouche demands.

You swallow Scaramouche’s saliva and open your mouth to show him. Scaramouche smirks and tangles his fingers in your hair before pressing his lips against yours. You slide your left hand up his back and to the back of his head, gripping his indigo hair while your right-hand reaches down and grabs him by the ass.

Scaramouche jolts, making his cock prod your cervix. Scaramouche breaks the kiss and looks down at you with an eyebrow raised. You bite your lips and stare at him, not saying anything. You pull him down and kiss his swollen lips again, lightly biting his lips and rolling your hips against his, sending pleasurable jolts down your and Scaramouche’s spine.

Scaramouche slowly pulls his cock out from your heat, leaving only the tip of his dick inside you. Archons, you’re so wet. Scaramouche watches your juices slowly trail down your ass cheeks, his cock’s wet from your juice. Without warning, Scaramouche slams his cock back inside your hole. Your velvety walls clenched around his cock while you cried out with pleasure.

You didn’t know why you expected Scaramouche to start thrusting into you slowly and letting you adjust to his size. Scaramouche hammers his cock in and out of you, making sure to hit your cervix over and over with every thrust.

“Slow down!” You squeal, your legs flailing over your head while Scaramouche continues to ram his cock in and out of you.

Scaramouche ignores your pleas, continuously ramming his dick into your wet heat. The sound of skin slapping, squelching, moans, whimpers, and growls fills your bedroom. You squeeze your eyes shut out of embarrassment and bury your face into Scaramouche’s chest. Scaramouche suddenly pulls his cock out from your entrance. You whine in protest, blindly reaching for his cock. Scaramouche slaps your hand away, flips you over on your stomach, and puts you on all fours. He makes you arch your back and press your head against your pillow before landing a sharp slap on your ass cheeks.

Your squeal was cut short when Scaramouche lined his cock up against your dripping entrance. Scaramouche slams his dick into you, making you choke on your squeals. Scaramouche presses his chest against your back, reaching forward and squeezing your chest with both hands while pressing his hips firmly against your ass. You grab a fistful of your bedsheets while wrapping your right arm around your pillow, biting down on your pillow to muffle your moans.

“Taking my cock so well, like the slut you are,” Scaramouche chuckles, biting down on your shoulder.

You grunt when Scaramouche grinds his hips against yours, coating his pubic hair with your juices. You reach for Scaramouche’s hand, intertwining your fingers with his while your other hand continues to hold the bedsheets with a tight fist. Scaramouche chuckles, releasing your shoulder and burying his face into your neck.

Scaramouche pants against your ears, and his soft grunts and sighs fill your ears. Dear archons, you hate to admit that you love the sound of him sighing and grunting into your ears. Scaramouche latches his lips on your neck, nibbling on them while pistoning his cock in and out at a steady pace. You tilt your head back, resting your head on Scaramouche’s shoulders while he continues to ram his painfully erect cock in and out of you repeatedly. Your hands fly to Scaramouche’s hands and dig your nails into his arms. The sound of Scaramouche’s pants drowns out the sounds of your desperate moans and squeals.

Scaramouche presses his lips against your ears. “Where’s that attitude of yours, huh?” Scaramouche asks, breathing heavily into your ears. “Where.” Thrust. “Is.” Thrust. “It?”

You scowl and shove him off you, his dick pulling out from your entrance. Scaramouche lands on his elbows and glares at you with lust clouding his vision. You get off your bed and huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You turn around and begin walking to your bedroom door without sparing Scaramouche a second glance.

Scaramouche calls out from behind you, “Where do you think you’re going?!”

You huff loudly and look over your shoulders. “Since you want to act so cocky, I’ll find someone else to satisfy me,” you said.

“Hey! Get your ass back here or else—”

“Or else what? If you want to fuck me so badly, why don’t you beg for it, hm?” You smirk.

Scaramouche growls. “I’m the one that’s supposed to be fucking your brains out and helping you with that problem of yours. You’re the one that inhaled that stupid aphrodisiac, not me!” Scaramouche glowers, getting off your bed and walking toward you.

You chuckle and shake your head, watching the indigo-haired man approach you. You have yet to cum, and yet you’re playing fire with fire. He can ditch you all you want and leave you hanging high and dry, craving for release, but you have plenty of options other than the man standing before you. Scaramouche wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to his chest. You try to act nonchalant, but feeling Scaramouche’s erect cock pressing against your stomach is making you flustered.

Scaramouche grabs your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. You scoff softly, turn your head to the side and gnaw on the inside of your cheek. Archons, you just want him to fuck the aphrodisiac out of you, but knowing Scaramouche, he’s going to make it hell for you. And he kind of did, even though he fucked you pretty well.

“I don’t know. You’ve been so mean to me this entire time! Why should I let you continue to bury your dick inside me, hm?” You ask, grabbing his red cock and gently squeezing and pumping them firmly.

Scaramouche clenches his jaws, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head when you squeeze and rub the bulbous tip of his cock. Scaramouche rests his head on your shoulder, burying his face into your neck, breathing in your scent.

“Please,” Scaramouche says through clenched teeth. “Please let me fuck you.”

You hum to yourself, taking your hand off his throbbing member. “Alright, I’ll let you fuck me, only because you said please like a good boy,” you tease, squeezing his cheeks.

Scaramouche huffs and grabs your wrist and pulls you back to your bed. Scaramouche lays on your bed, yanking you on top of him. You straddle his hips and grab his red dick, lining it up to your entrance.

Scaramouche squeezes your hips with anticipation; his cheeks are almost as red as the tip of his cock. You giggle to yourself and slowly sink down on his aching cock. Your jaws drop, letting out a shaky sigh as you continue to sink further down on Scaramouche’s dick. Once Scaramouche is fully sheathed into your entrance, you grab your bed frame and start bouncing on his cock and grinding your swollen bundle of nerves against Scaramouche’s pubic bone. Scaramouche latches his mouth on one of your nipples and begins to suck, lick and lightly bite them while you’re on top of him, riding his cock like a desperate cock hungry whore that you are.

You bite down on your lips to keep your moans to a minimum. The sound of your hole squelching each time your thighs meet Scaramouche’s thighs is all you can hear other than your breathy moans and Scaramouche sucking on your nipples. Scaramouche places both his hands on the globes of your ass, squeezing your butt cheeks, occasionally slapping them while forcing you up and down on his painfully hard cock.

Scaramouche releases your nipple. “You’re a filthy slut, you know that, right?” Scaramouche pants. “Look at you, riding my cock like a cock hungry whore.” He laughs.

You reach for Scaramouche’s hair, grab it and tilt his head back. “You’re a shithead, you know that, right?” You ask, slamming your hips down on his cock.

You hold back a moan when Scaramouche’s mushroom tip kisses your cervix. Scaramouche smirks at you, his lips quivering from the pleasure. Scaramouche opens his mouth to retort, but you press your lips against his lips to shut him up. Scaramouche releases one ass cheek and reaches in front to pinch and squeeze your throbbing bundle of nerves. You bite down on Scaramouche’s lips, nearly collapsing on him.

He takes that as an opportunity to flip you over on your back, hammering his cock into you in a frenzy. You grunt and wrap your legs tightly around his slim waist, dragging your nails down his back. Scaramouche presses his hips hard against yours that your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when the bulbous tip of his cock slams against your cervix. You roll your hips and ground your hips against his pubic bone.

Your back arches, your head falls back on your bed, and you let out a string of moans. You feel a familiar tightness in your lower abdomen as he continues to force his cock in and out of your wet heat. You look down to where you and Scaramouche are connected, only to see your stomach bulging every time Scaramouche slams his cock back into your sopping wet heat. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, saliva dripping down the side of your mouth while Scaramouche continues to shove his cock into you.

Scaramouche snorts. “You look stupid, you know that?” Scaramouche snickers, pressing his hips against yours.

“I’m about to cum,” You whisper breathlessly.

Scaramouche raises his eyebrows at you. “Then cum for me, you filthy slut. Cum all over my cock and scream my name so the others can know who’s the one that’s fucking your brains out,” Scaramouche demands, pulling your hair back and pistoning his cock into you.

While Scaramouche is slamming his hips against yours, you writhe beneath him. Your jaws are agape, letting out silent screams. Scaramouche grabs a handful of your chest and kneads at them, pinching your nipples while squeezing your breast. You close your eyes tightly, feeling the forming knot in your lower abdomen begin to feel even tighter.

You hiss when Scaramouche grazes your nipple with his nail. You grab his wrist and dig your nails into his wrist, fueling Scaramouche’s thrusts. While pounding into your sopping-wet entrance, Scaramouche feels his impending orgasm. Scaramouche leans over you, grabs the edge of the mattress, and plunges his cock into you in a frenzy, chasing his release.

It happened so fast. You didn’t think the tight knot in your lower abdomen would snap so quickly the more the mushroom tip of Scaramouche’s cock kissed your cervix. The feeling of his cock sliding and rubbing against the walls of your entrance made you quiver and your legs tremble. Scaramouche bites down on your shoulders and shoots thick ropes of cum deep inside your quivering hole when he feels you clamping down hard on his cock and cumming around him.

You go limp on your bed and grunt softly when Scaramouche collapses on top of you. Scaramouche lets out a breathy chuckle before rolling off to the side while keeping his cock inside you, plugging his and your cum inside your sullied hole. You don’t know how long you and Scaramouche had gone at it, but you can still feel the fiery pit raging in the pit of your stomach. You and Scaramouche groan when he pulls his softened cock from inside you. You feel his and your cum oozing out from your hole.

Scaramouche turns his head to look at you. “You’re quite needy, did you know that?” Scaramouche asks.

You scoff and roll your eyes at him, slapping his chest weakly. “Oh, please. As if you weren’t as needy as I was,” you grumble.

Scaramouche gulps a mouthful of air and props himself up. “Is it still in your system?” Scaramouche asks, collapsing back on your bed and closing his eyes.

You stare at him, watching his bare chest rise up and down from the rigorous activity. You pursed your lips, unsure of how to answer. If you were to tell him that the feeling of need and desire is still present, would he continue to assist you on your issue, or would he switch out with one of the other twenty-four men that are left?

You gnaw on your bottom lip and slowly nod. “Yeah, it’s still in my system, unfortunately. I can still feel it, but it’s not nearly as bad as it was before you, well, railed me into oblivion,” you reply.

Scaramouche sighs in defeat and closes his eyes, running his hands through his hair. “Dammit. Not only that, but you inhaled large amounts of that aphrodisiac as well. It’ll be in your system for who knows how long.”

“Unfortunately,” you mutter.

Scaramouche lies beside you and wraps his arms around your bare torso, resting his chin on top of your head and closing his eyes. You reach to grab the blanket at the edge of your bed when you and Scaramouche hear a knock at your door.

“Are you two finished?” Albedo asks behind the closed door.

You huff and pull the blanket over your and Scaramouche’s naked bodies. “Yeah, we’re finished,” you answer.

“Is the aphrodisiac out of your system now? How are you feeling?” Baizhu’s voice is muffled from behind the door.

You shake your head, knowing the others can’t see it. You’re not sure how long aphrodisiacs remain in the human body once it’s ingested or inhaled. All you know is that you’re still horny, probably not as much as you were before Scaramouche railed you, but you’re still horny, and you can feel it. The fiery pit in your lower stomach has yet to be extinguished, and you’re not sure how many rounds you’ll have to go through for the aphrodisiac to wear off.

You sigh shakily and reply, “It’s still in my system. I don’t know how much longer it’ll remain in my system for, Baizhu. It’s not nearly as bad as it was, and I’m still coherent, but….” you trailed off, closing your eyes.

“But….” Xiao asks.

You can almost hear him raise his eyebrows. Knowing Xiao, he’s standing in front of your closed bedroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for you to reply. You wouldn’t be surprised if the others were also standing in front of your door.

You look at Scaramouche, who sits up and rubs his eyes. “Might as well send in the next person. But let me remind you that none of you will fuck [Y/N] nearly as good as I did,” Scaramouche says proudly.

Scarmaouhce puts on his clothes while you debate whether you should put your clothes on and clean yourself up or let the next person have their way with you as you are now. You get up from your bed and walk to your bathroom to quickly clean up and use the bathroom. After a few minutes of cleaning yourself up and using the bathroom, you step out of your bathroom. Scaramouche gives you a quick hug and kisses on your forehead before exiting your bedroom. Before the door fully closed behind Scaramouche, a hand grabbed at the wooden door to prevent it from closing.

Note: I have no idea how to feel about this Scaramouche smut I wrote... let me know what you think because I'm always feeling iffy about every smuts I write and post on Tumblr and AO3. Ready for the second phase for the next route? Since Scaramouche's route has been written and posted, he is no longer part of the future options for Burning Desire. I wonder who's going to be the next route 🤔 Vote for the second route/third "chapter" [HERE]! As for taglist, Burning Desire will have its own taglist! Therefore, if you want to be tagged for the Burning Desire smut fics, click [HERE] for the taglist form! Please make sure to read the instructions carefully, or else I won't be able to tag you in future Burning Desire fics 🥹 Anyway, to my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for Burning Desire: [None currently, will add people once people start submitting their forms ^^]

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

1K notes · View notes

imaginedisish · 5 months ago

Text

The Promise (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Short and sweet...or rather...incredibly spicy. Here's the *Logan catches you...touching yourself* fic. Couldn't think of a song until the end of writing this one. Went with "The Promise" by When in Rome. Also, if I'm messing up with the tag list I am so sorry. Anyway, ENJOY!

Summary: You want to relax after a long day, so you decide to let off some steam alone in your room. But, you're not as alone as you think. Logan can hear you loud and clear...and he's happy to help.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! SMUT!!! Masturbation (f!), oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), porn with NO PLOT, softdom!Logan, cocky!Logan, Logan is def not respecting personal space here, friends to lovers, feelings, afab!reader/fem!reader, cursing, prob some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 2,588 this is the dirtiest thing I've ever written

Finally. You’re in your room. Alone. Today had been exhausting. It was drill after drill, class after class, until your eyes stung and your muscles were beyond sore. But now, all there is to worry about is the mattress at your back and the blankets you’ve pulled up to your chin…

…Save for that itch, that ache growing between your legs. You had been able to ignore it before, when Logan had you pinned to the wall during one of your drills in the danger room. He caged you in, arms above your head. Gotcha, princess, he whispered, and walked away. You tried to brush off the way your heart fluttered in your chest, tried to shove down the ache that was building in your belly. Logan was your friend—nothing more.

But now that you’re finally alone, it’s too much. You let your hand trail down your body, pushing past the waistband of your shorts and inside your panties. You close your eyes and think of Logan as your fingertips brush your clit. You picture him standing at the edge of your bed, climbing on top of you.

“F-fuck,” you stutter, working your clit, drawing tight circles, imagining it’s Logan’s hand instead—exploring your folds, spreading your slick, dipping his fingers into your entrance. You whisper his name as you think of him crawling down your body and settling in between your thighs, burying his face into your cunt.

You imagine what his tongue feels like, lapping at you, flicking your clit. “Logan,” you moan, louder this time, thinking no one can hear you.

Logan walks down the hall. He can hear your voice, soft and small through the slight crack in your door. You must’ve forgotten to close it all the way. It almost sounds like you’re singing, and his heart squeezes in his chest at the thought.

But then he hears his name.

“Logan.” It’s a whisper, a faint call. He thinks maybe you can hear him down the hall—that maybe you need help, maybe something’s wrong. He steps towards your room, furrowing his brows as he listens carefully, using his heightened senses.

“Logan,” you moan again. And he hears it all this time—hears your breathy whines, your legs pushing against the mattress. And fuck, he can smell you. Wet. Aching. His cock hardens at the thought of you getting off to him, his erection straining against his jeans. He walks closer to your door, his steps tentative and quiet.

Your door is almost closed—the latch just touching the frame. The light from your room casts a thin line across the darkened hallway. It’s warm and glowy, and Logan can feel it pulling him in—can feel it begging him to push the door open and head inside. He holds himself back, resigning himself to listening to your soft murmurs and drunken mumbles.

But then you’re calling his name again.

“Logan,” you whimper, your circles quickening, your walls fluttering around nothing. You imagine him fucking into you, spreading you out and stretching you open. You wish he’d come in here and touch you, take you, make you feel good.

Logan’s cock throbs, his jeans suddenly far too tight. He can tell you’re getting closer, your breathing becoming short and frantic. He knows he shouldn’t, but he pushes the door open just a touch more. You’re in the center of the bed, eyes shut tight, head thrown back, hand underneath the blanket and stuffed inside your panties.

“N-need you,” you stutter. You need him to really touch you—need to feel his body against yours. Need to—

You suddenly hear your door shut, and your eyes fly open.

Logan is at the edge of your bed, his hands pressing into the mattress, white-knuckling the sheets as he looks up at you under half-lidded eyes.

“How long were you—” “I heard everything, pretty girl,” Logan growls, his shoulders tight, his brows furrowed. He’s holding back, restraining himself. “Heard you calling my name.” “I-I…” You trail off, heat spreading across your chest. You don’t know what to say, or how to get yourself out of this.

“You what, princess?” Logan teases, climbing onto the mattress. “You want me that bad?” He slowly pulls the covers down, revealing your bare thighs. “Want me so bad you’re thinking about me when you touch yourself? Saying my name even when I’m not around?”

He tugs the blanket down farther, your legs on full display for him. “Logan,” you choke, catching your breath. “I didn’t mean to—”

But he’s crawling up your body, grabbing your legs, and tugging you down the mattress. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he soothes, his big hands pushing apart your legs, his palms splaying on the inside of your thighs. “I want you too.” His hands trail up to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers hooking inside. “You want me to take care of you?”

You swallow harshly. “Y-yes,” you stammer. “Please.”

He strips your shorts and panties from your legs, casting them to the floor. “What were you thinking about when you were touching yourself, hm?” He asks, settling in between your thighs. He brings an arm up and over your hips, gluing your lower half to the mattress.

“You,” you mumble.

Logan cocks his head to the side and smirks. “I know that pretty girl,” he husks, his free hand sliding towards your core. “But what were you thinking about?” His thumb finally finds your clit and strokes lightly.

“Th-that,” you moan as he draws tight circles around the bud.

“Just this?” He asks teasingly, holding you down as you squirm involuntarily underneath him.

“More…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed as Logan’s circles become faster.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” Logan demands, his touch slipping away. Your eyes flutter back open, and Logan’s thumb finds your clit again. “Now tell me what you want.”

You swallow harshly, waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You need more, and you’ll take anything he’s willing to give you. “W-want your tongue,” you finally choke out.

“Yeah?” Logan teases, bringing his face down to your heat. “This what you wanted?” He licks a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “That feel good?” He’s lapping at you, his tongue dragging through your slit, flicking your bud and drawing tight circles.

“Yes,” you pant, struggling to keep your eyes open. His face is buried inside your cunt, eating you out like a starved man. The sight is unseemly: his disheveled hair, the way he’s swallowing you whole. “Feels so good, Logan.”

He smirks against you. “Such a good pussy,” he mutters, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. “Tastes so fucking good.” His fingers trail up your inner thigh, climbing higher, finding your folds.

“Please,” you beg, his gaze meeting yours.

“Please what, princess?” He asks, looking deeply into your eyes as he sucks on your clit again, rougher this time. Your eyes flutter shut. “Thought I told you to keep those pretty eyes open,” he commands, and you listen.

“W-want your fingers,” you moan, forcing your eyes to stay open as Logan mercilessly flicks your clit with his tongue.

And then he’s thrusting two long fingers deep inside you. You curse under your breath as he stretches you out. “So wet,” Logan growls against your core, pulling out only to shove his fingers back in—somehow deeper this time. “So beautiful like this, always so beautiful.”

Your walls flutter around him, his words weakening your resolve. He pumps in and out of you, his fingers scissoring deep inside. He takes your clit back between his lips and sucks long and hard, his teeth grazing your bud as he latches on and lets go. It’s overwhelming—the way he fucks into you, the way he laps at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Lo,” you whine, clenching down on his fingers as he sinks deeper inside you. His pumps become faster, his fingers shoving in and out again and again.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he soothes, the flick of his tongue goading you along. “Could smell how much you needed me from the hallway,” he says between laps. “Know you’re getting close for me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you whimper, his words driving you closer to the edge. It’s all too much. Him, suddenly being here, with you. Devouring you. Wanting you. Needing you. Yes, that’s it. Need. His face buried between your legs; his nose pressed just above your clit. His fingers dragging along your walls. He’s consuming you. Dying to be inside you—to be as close as he can possibly get.

“That’s it, darlin’. Let go.”

And then you’re coming undone, pleasure wracking through your body, fire lighting down your spine. Everything is dizzying and warm, white-hot heat flooding your vision, stars dancing before your eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan grunts against you, lapping up your juices. “So fucking good. Did so good for me.” His fingers slow inside you and gently pull out, but his tongue is still working at you. He pushes through your folds, savoring the taste of you.

“Lo,” you groan, squirming underneath him. “Need you now.”

“You have me,” he mutters against you, the vibrations of his voice wracking your already overstimulated clit.

“But…” you trail off, the tension building back up between your legs. “N-need you. Please.”

He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up at you. “Say it,” he demands, your release glistening on his chin. “Tell me exactly what you need.” He climbs up your body. “Go on,” he teases, hiking your shirt up your stomach, pushing it over your tits. He smirks when he sees that you have no bra on—your breasts bare before him. His hands trail up to your chest, massaging gently, pinching your nipples.

You curse under your breath, instinctually spreading your legs. “Need you to fuck me,” you whisper, and Logan grins.

His touch disappears from your body, his hands finding the hem of his beater as he sits back on his knees. He tugs his shirt up and over his head, throwing it to the floor. He’s perfect, his muscles flexing and contracting as he moves. “Need my cock, pretty girl?” He chides, working at his belt next, tossing it to the side.

“Yes,” you pant, watching as he undoes his button and his zipper, yanking his jeans and boxers down his legs. His erection springs free, and he’s so much bigger than you had anticipated. You bite your lips nervously at the sight.

Logan lowers himself down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand comes down to stroke your hip comfortingly. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, pressing his forehead to yours. His hand leaves your hip and wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself to your entrance.

You shiver as his tip slides through your folds. He’s so close, his breath fanning across your face. He teases your slit, spreading your slick, nudging against your clit, and slides back down to your entrance.

His lips finally find yours, swallowing your moans as he shoves himself deep inside you, down to the hilt with one thrust. “Fuck,” he grunts, his hand slipping between your bodies to find your clit. “Tight little pussy.” He slides out and plunges back in, drawing circles around your bud. “So fucking warm, so perfect,” he whispers against your lips, pressing another kiss as he sets his pace.

He starts out slow, his hips rhythmically rocking against yours. He’s filling you up, splitting you open with every pump. You curse under your breath as his cock drags along your walls. “Feels so good, Lo,” you moan.

His thumb strokes your clit as he fucks into you, faster now. He’s hitting that sweet spot deep inside with every thrust. “Is this what you were thinking about when you were getting yourself off, pretty girl?” Logan grunts, slamming into you. “Thinking about me fucking you just like this?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your muscles contracting around him. “Always thinking about you.”

Logan smiles against your lips, his eyes dark with lust as he pumps in and out. “Bet you wanted me to hear you,” he huffs, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, his circles becoming rapid and frantic. “Bet you left that door open on purpose.”

You whine a yes as he pounds into you, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, biting your pulse point and kissing away the sting his teeth leave behind. You can feel yourself getting closer, already fucked out beyond all thought. All you can think about is Logan and the way he’s stuffing himself inside you, pushing deeper and deeper.

“Needed you too, beautiful,” Logan whispers at the shell of your ear, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing against the walls of your room. “Needed you this whole time.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, giving him more leverage to sink deeper inside you. Your arms find purchase around his back, your nails digging into his bare skin. Logan pinches your clit roughly in between his tight, rapid circles, and you moan his name.

“I know, darlin’,” he soothes, his hips bucking, his cock twitching inside you. “Can feel you squeezing me, know you’re already close.”

“Just feels so good,” you moan as he drills into you relentlessly. “Don’t want you to stop.”

Logan chuckles darkly, flicking your clit. “Don’t think I can, pretty girl.” He twitches inside you again, and you know he’s close too. He throbs against your walls, pulling out and thrusting all the way back in.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he praises. He’s still stretching you out with every pump, splitting you open. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, your walls fluttering around him. You can feel yourself slipping, letting go as he slams into you.

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” he coos, circling your clit. “Come on my cock, just like that.”

Logan thrusts into you again, bottoming out, and the tension snaps. Everything is bliss and searing pleasure. Hazy and blurred. It’s all too much, your eyes welling up as your orgasm rips through you. You blink back your tears. Logan kisses your forehead, his pace faltering as you come undone around him.

“Wanted you this whole time,” he groans, his hips stuttering. “So fucking beautiful,” he husks. “So perfect.” You pull him closer as he comes inside you, filling you up and painting your walls. Logan moans your name, looking deep into your eyes as he finishes.

His hips stall inside you, his thumb stroking your clit gently, riding out your orgasms, letting you down easy from your high.

He notices the single tear sliding down your cheek and brings his hand up from your clit to wipe it away. “You okay?” He asks, concern painted across his face. He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, his arm wrapping around your back to pull you into his chest.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed. “M’perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into the center of Logan’s chest. He rolls you onto your side, tugging you closer, his cock still half-hard inside you. “Can you stay with me?” You ask, your voice small and quiet, nervous that he might say no.

“Not going anywhere, pretty girl,” Logan reassures, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I promise.”

tags: @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @xlocalxpunkx @cervvsq @white-wolf-buckaroo @just-a-nightdreamer @wildfloweroutlaw @starfleetteddybear @prettyseaveins @silversprings-mp3 @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @wittyjasontodd @ilysmdovie12 @theasiaabattoir @movhoney @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer

#Logan Howlett x reader #Wolverine x reader #James Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett smut #Wolverine smut #Logan Howlett x reader smut #Wolverine x reader smut #James Logan Howlett x reader smut #James Logan Howlett smut #Logan Howlett x you #Wolverine x you #James Logan Howlett x you #Logan Howlett x you smut #Wolverine x you smut #James Logan Howlett x you smut #Logan Howlett imagine #Wolverine imagine #James Logan Howlett imagine

2K notes · View notes

talesofesther · 9 months ago

Text

how we knew love was here to stay

Nami x Reader

Summary: On a cold, lonely night, Nami still has trouble finding peace; luckily you're there to chase the cold away.

A/N: The small amount of Nami fics in here is criminal, I tell ya; of course I had to fix this. I love her sm <3. Important disclaimer; I have not watched the anime, nor do I plan to. This story, and any others I might write within the universe, is solely set in the live-action series.

Word count: 3,1k

Masterlist

She could feel the cold metal of the chain around her ankle, the wetness of the tears that fell down the bridge of her nose as she stood with her head low. She could see the lone wooden table, and a pen and paper for the only thing she was worth for.

Arlong's voice echoed like thunder in the dark room. There was blood on his hands, she noticed, dried up and sticking under his nails; he wore it proudly and with a sick smile.

There would be no way out this time around, her friends, her family, were gone. Her hands were shaking violently, there was blood on them too; she couldn't see it, but it was there. It was all her fault after all.

Nami woke up with a start and a whimper clawing at her throat. She sat up in bed before her eyes even had time to begin focusing, the covers pooling at her waist as she breathed in, erratic and quick gasps of air that weren't nearly enough to fill her aching lungs.

Her nails dug into fabric, nearly ripping the bedsheets. Those same tears she'd felt in the nightmare now lingered, making a steady path down her cheeks and dampening the collar of her shirt.

Nami's lower lip quivered pathetically and she groaned in anger. It was so unfair. They had won, she was free at last. And still, Arlong haunted her, hiding in the dark corners of her mind. What if he's still out there? What if he's plotting revenge? What if he comes after them again with blood in his eyes? What if-

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as if physically trying to chase away the torturing thoughts. Her hands came up, tugging at the roots of messy ginger hair as she gulped back a sob and tasted the salt of tears on her lips. Didn't she deserve peace? A shot at a normal life without having to watch her back at all times and close off her heart to everyone? Perhaps not.

Several moments went by in silence, with the only sound being the calm ocean outside and Nami's unsteady breathing. The small room she called hers was pitch black, which meant it was still the middle of the night, but alas, there would be no more sleeping for her tonight.

With shaky legs, she got up.

The air outside on Going Merry's deck was cold, biting at her skin and making the navigator pull her thin coat tighter around herself. And yet Nami closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, if she felt the cold, maybe she wouldn't need to feel anything else.

The night was serene, the vast ocean was quiet and the sky clear, allowing for a blanket of stars to dance above her along with a bright moon.

Nami had always enjoyed watching the stars, counting the constellations. She'd sit on the roof of her old house during nights like these after her mom and sister had gone to sleep, and just admire the cosmos above her. Simpler times. And as she looked up at those same stars now, she could almost feel herself being back there.

A breath of air stumbled past her lips, turning into a white puff in the frigid night air. Her eyes grew wet again, vision hazy until the stars turned into nothing but blurry bright spots. In the vastness of the ocean that reflected the endless night sky, she felt undeniably alone. Maybe there was no healing for the likes of her after all.

—

You woke up already cursing that last glass of wine, maybe if you hadn't drank that, you wouldn't be being forced to leave your warm bed for the sake of going to the bathroom right now.

A shiver ran up and down your body when your bare feet touched the cold wood of the ship's floor. Blinking the sleep away from your eyes, you lazily felt around near the foot of your bed for the fuzzy slippers you'd snatched before leaving the village.

Feeling more than seeing your way through, you made it to the bathroom. And as you were making your way back to bed again, a chilly breeze circled you and got the hairs at the back of your neck standing up.

With your eyes now adjusted to the darkness of the night, you could catch a peek at the main doors that led to the ship's deck. They were ajar, moving gently back and forth with the cold ocean wind.

The first you thought of was Usopp, maybe even Luffy; as the others were unlikely to forget the doors open. In any case, you walked up to them. Some windows here and there could be left open, but it was routine to close the doors as they were the main entrance to the cold night air.

The hinges creaked with complaint as you began to push them closed, yet before you were done, your eyes caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure sitting alone at one edge of the ship.

You'd recognize her in an instant, of course. Even in the dark night, the moonlight still highlighted those strands of tangerine hair like nothing else. It's like the natural satellite waited eagerly for when she'd step outside, what with the way its light favored her. Or maybe the problem was you, and she was all you could see.

Nami sat with her back against one of the tangerine planters, hugging her knees tightly to her chest as her gaze remained focused on the sky above her. She looked to be miles away, eyes hazy and missing their usual sharpness.

You shifted in your stance, fighting with yourself on whether you should go to her or not. The last few days had been tough on her, on all of your crew. You still couldn't shake the sight of Nami's desolate, teary eyes when she finally asked for help; the blood dripping from the tattoo she tried to rip off her arm; or the dark room with only chains and paper for company.

You started walking up to her before you could debate further, with deep worry tugging at your heartstrings. Steps slow and careful as if approaching a wild cat, still minding the gentle swaying of the ship so your sleepy self wouldn't lose balance.

Nami startled when she sensed your presence, you saw it clear as the moonlight; the way her muscles tensed, jaw set tight, and chin angling up to disguise the glinting of her blown pupils. Still, she stayed unmoving, tucked in her corner with her arms tightening around her knees.

It was a little awkward, really, the way you two simply looked at each other for a good minute, her sitting on the floor and you standing there in your pajamas. Eventually, you cleared your throat, but the best you could come up with was; "Hey." You winced as soon as the word left your mouth.

Nami's eyes lowered then. She gulped, and sighed, body sagging back against the wooden planter. It looked a lot like defeat; from what, you weren't sure.

"Hey," she said back, voice uneven and husky.

You bit at the inside of your cheek as you looked at her, feeling your heart hammering against your chest as if berating you for the distance still separating you from her. You had long since given up trying to fight it; the way your insides filled with butterflies at the mere sight of her, the way your cheeks warmed up at the sound of her voice speaking your name, the way goosebumps filled your body at the smallest of touches from her; and the way that, just like now, your heart bled upon seeing those bright eyes of hers so full of sorrow.

"I just…" You started, matching the quietness of her tone so as to not break the bubble of peace that had enveloped you, "I saw the door open and just, wanted to ask if you're okay?"

The cold breeze ruffled Nami's hair, a few strands getting caught between her lips. She took her time pushing it back behind her ear. It could have been anyone, any of the crew members to find her in this sorry state and she would've been able to talk her way out of it. But oh, not to you.

You, who had squeezed your way past every last one of Nami's so carefully built walls and defenses. You'd made her care and grow fond of you even if she was actively trying not to. And it was difficult to deny the fragility of her heart when you were the one who asked for it. It was difficult to bury the rawness of her feelings when your hands were the ones offering solace.

Nami bit onto her lower lip until she tasted hints of blood, the skin of her arms was cold under the thin fabric of her coat. "I don't know," the words fell past her lips of their own accord.

A moment went by, and then a breath of relief nearly escaped Nami when she finally felt the warmth of your body as you sat down beside her, your shoulders just shy of touching each other.

You fidgeted with your hands, now sitting so close to her, you could catch a glimpse of dried tear tracks on Nami's cheeks. Part of you wished you could physically take her pain to yourself. "Did you want to stay back with your sister?" You choose to play safe and ask carefully first, even though you had a feeling this wasn't the reason.

The navigator ducked her head, she had yet to meet your eyes again. She forced a chuckle, a broken thing that didn't feel real at all. "Please, I love that place, but one more night sharing stories and watching kids play, and I'd die of boredom." She tried joking as her own voice broke in the middle.

It was the smallest and most vulnerable you've ever heard her sound, and you realized this might be the first time Nami stood bare before you. No high walls around her heart, no carefully woven lies, or chains dictating her every move. Just Nami.

And she was raw, and new, and fragile. Treading foreign territory when for the first time she was allowed to simply feel and be.

You hesitated, wanting to bring her comfort yet not knowing how. The boundaries were unclear and blurred. When before she'd pushed you away, just yesterday she'd been clinging to you for dear life with Luffy's hat falling from her head and hanging around her neck as the building, that had once been her prison, collapsed behind her and she hid in the cocoon of your embrace.

Back then, when she was finally free of Arlong's claws, you'd nearly cried from relief, nails burying into the fabric of Nami's shirt as you relished having her in your arms again after having to watch her turn her back on you and sail away with the fishmen and that same glint of sorrow in her eyes.

And right now, under the blanket of stars and amidst the cold sea wind, you wished you could do the same. Still, you'd wait for her. You'd always wait for her.

"Is it… because of Arlong?" You asked in a whisper that barely stood out in the night.

A shiver ran up and down Nami's back at the mention of the name, and the dread must have shown on her face because you quickly added; "You don't have to talk, just… tell me what I can do for you."

Nami bit onto her lip to keep it from quivering. You had always been so sickeningly sweet. Always caring and staying even if there were times when she'd been nothing short of cold with you.

There had been moments, 'almosts' stolen away when you were alone together. A brush of hands, a brush of lips. Nami could still remember the ghosts of your touch and her heart ached for it. She remembered your fingers brushing away her hair and how she involuntarily leaned into your touch. She remembered the racing of her heart and how her breath had stumbled when her nose bumped yours. An almost kiss. An almost reverie.

Those moments whisked her away from reality. Away from Arlong, and deals, and maps, and painful memories. You had a thing about you that wrapped her up in a blanket of warmth and for a moment nothing else existed.

Yet, every time, Nami had pulled away before the gap was closed, avoiding your eyes and mumbling some half-assed excuse that no doubt had stung you. And maybe it was selfish, even then, because she couldn't bear the thought of what Arlong might have done to you, had he learned how much she cared for you. Fear twisted her stomach each time she remembered what happened to the people she allowed herself to be close to. So she pushed you away, breaking her heart along with it, and perhaps yours too.

She wondered now, briefly, if the chance had been lost forever.

Waves gently rocked Going Merry, with just the two of you awake amidst the vast ocean; the cold air felt suddenly warm with intimacy.

"I keep thinking," Nami began, she hated how her voice sounded and how a single tear rolled down her cheek, "What if he comes back."

There was the ghost of a touch on her hand that rested above her knee. Nami held her breath as she watched your fingers timidly intertwine with hers. Your touch, warm and steady and real, was all it took for her to crumble. A sob stumbled past her lips and more tears fell freely down her cheeks, dripping from her chin as she clutched your hand tightly. "What if I've just made things worse and- and he'll come after them again? This time with no mercy or deals?" She uttered desperately, and then finally, turned to look you in the eyes, "What if he comes after you?"

You struggled to keep to yourself how soft she made you feel, to hold onto your composure for both your sakes. Gazing into those bright pools of green that were her eyes, twinkling with the sparks of a thousand stars; you could see galaxies there and gladly be lost in them. Strands of fiery hair framed her face and flowed in the wind, kissing her cheeks in a way you could only dream of doing.

As you gazed upon her, you realized this is the beauty poets write so much about.

With your free hand, you cupped her cheek to dry her tears. "Nami, sunshine, listen to me; he's gone, for good. He's dead, we made sure of it."

A quiet whimper fell past Nami's lips at the nickname. The same nickname you'd dreamily called her the very first time you'd met, when she'd been secretly glad for having another girl in the 'crew' and was none the wiser of her growing feelings.

"And I will never let Arlong, or anyone, lay their hands on you or the people you care about again," you spoke with the conviction of a promise you'd kill and die to keep, hesitating only for a second before leaning forward to rest your forehead against hers. Your thumb swiped at the apple of her cheek, and your heart soared when she leaned into your touch. "I promise."

Nami's already unsteady breathing stumbled with your closeness, she brought your joined hands near her chest, in a foolish attempt that maybe the beating of her heart could tell you everything she still couldn't.

It hit her like a tidal wave that, with Arlong gone, she was free to indulge in you without restraints, without fear. She was allowed to bask in the softness and warmth of your touch and lose herself in it.

Nami felt her throat close up tight when the realization hit her, she could feel her eyes pooling again and she hated it. But you were there, and you were close, and you were present, and you were warm and sure and you stayed. Maybe she could blame it on the raw emotions that the deep hours of the night brought forth, but her heart screamed, and for once she listened to it.

In one swift movement, Nami let go of your hand only to have both her arms around your waist, squeezing you tight as she buried her head in your neck.

You asked no questions. Perhaps you knew, perhaps she was more of an open book than she realized. Or perhaps you had just grown to know her, and surprisingly, Nami liked the sound of that.

You brought both your arms around her as well, hugging her to you in the comfort you knew she needed, all gentle and steady.

It felt like lifting a heavy anchor that had kept her at the bottom of the sea for far too long. Nami shivered when she felt your fingers burying in between her hair, a touch so tender she couldn't remember the last time she felt anything of the sort. "Thank you," she spoke against your skin, "for not giving up on me, as difficult as I might have made it."

A breath of a chuckle escaped you and your lips found her temple in a kiss, "Bold of you to think I give up easily."

Eventually, Nami was the one to pull away, a genuine smile finally breaking through her tear-stained cheeks. She refused to go far though, her hands still gently tugging at the fabric of your shirt.

You took the liberty of tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering, tracing the edge of her jaw.

Her smile faltered only for the briefest moment; "I… don't think I can go back to sleep." Nami's words fell timidly and quiet, not at all used to saying her feelings out loud.

Your gaze wandered from her and up to the night sky, adorned with a myriad of stars and a pale moon bathing you in silver light. Looking back at Nami, back to those ocean eyes that were the brightest and softest you've ever had the privilege of witnessing, you thanked the heavens for that last glass of wine that made you get up tonight. "I don't mind the night," you mimicked her adoring smile.

Nami's cheeks blushed a faint shade of pink, bashful eyes avoiding yours. She shuffled closer to you, until you had an arm around her shoulders and the cold air of the night had no space between you.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Nami’s taglist: @milkiane@v1ci0us

#nami #nami x reader #nami one piece #nami opla #one piece #one piece live action #nami imagine #nami one piece x reader #one piece x reader #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #nami fanfic #my story

160 notes · View notes

slippinninque · 4 months ago

Note

Hi👋🏽 This is my first time ever putting in a fic request. I’m not sure if you take requests and I didn’t see anything on your blog so please feel free to ignore this. I was wondering what Fontaine would do if he saw his girl working so hard to balance school and work that she wasn’t taking care of herself like she should or not spending as much time with him?

💆🏾‍♀️TLC

Fontaine x blackfemreader

Warnings: none, some cursing, mainly fluff. Mentions of feeling overworked and overwhelmed, before-work-post (may have some mistakes lol)

"It was tonight, wasn't it?"

You were standing in the middle of the living room, in the middle of wakefulness and the fugue that has been stubbornly following you for the past three weeks.

He saw you stare out into space as you tried to regain your thoughts. Fontaine froze when you turned wet eyes to him, the rest of your face fixed into flat mask.

Still wearing your hoodie and jeans, your cheek held the imprint of one of your text books. He normally would protest you bringing books to bed but with how thin you were already stretched so thin...

"I missed date night," your voice cracked and your hands came up to your face, "We would have been back by now...I...I really missed it...."

Fontaine was up brought you close and closed his eyes against the feel of your trembling. He gently pried your hands away from your face, seeing how your fingers began to curl into claws nearer your hair.

Fontaine hugged you tight, "Hey, hey, you're good."

Your wide eyes met his but Fontaine knew you were only seeing your thoughts plastered across his face. All the things that demanded your attention, the projects and papers and team meetings and recruiting.

He said nothing as he brought your head to his shoulder. Fontaine didn't want think too much about how you sagged against him. You felt, like a rag doll with weighted feet.

"It wasn't you, baby. You've had a lot on your plate, I didn't feel right waking you up." He admitted, "I thought maybe we could have date night at the crib this time. "

You made a quiet, hurt noise and nuzzled closer, "I'm so sorry..."

"Ah, ain't nothing be sorry fo'. I already ordered some grub, it's gonna be dinner in bed tonight. A'ight?"

"I'm sorry...."

Fontaine hushed you and wished he had more to say. Wish he could erase the nerves he could feel prickling along your skin. There was nothing he could say to you. Not right now, at least.

"The only thing I want you to be is getting in that tub for me." He cupped your face, "Bath is already made. Then we'll take it from there, okay?"

"No, that's too much." You tried to shake him off but Fontaine kept hold, "Date night is supposed to be special for the both of us--

Fontaine spoke over you just a bit, "Hush! You want--"

"Don't you hush me--!"

"-- You wanna to make it up to me?"

You nodded at once. Fontaine nodded back before he stepped back and took your hands in his. He took in the worried bend of your brow, the way you chewed and picked at at the healing spots on your bottom lip.

"I've been waiting on your ass to crash for 'bout two weeks now--ain't plotting on your downfall...just worried."

Fontaine's tone robbed you of your fight. You nodded and sniffled, the knot in your throat loosening. He was right. You couldn't keep going on like this, you were only going to get sloppier.

"Okay, good, c'mon and let me get my hands on you a little bit and you can curse at me later for hushing. Yeah?"

Fontaine tugged gently and you went after him feeling like the worse girlfriend in the world.

-----

When you finally felt like you could stand being in your skin. You washed yourself and did so again, mind humming on low as the water steamed and soothed you. There were mountains of bubbles and you could smell the lavender scented candle from its perch in the dreamy fog of the bathroom.

It was strange to feel so wrung out so soon. With the holiday season swiftly approaching, you were tied on both ends. Midterms papers and collaborations clashing with the growing seasonal demand at your Granny's catering business.

While you weren't charge of the magic of making the food you made sure the 'magicians' had their wands and their doves. Grocery orders, appliance repairs, and even down to scheduling for tastings and deliveries.

You made sure that all the elders had to focus on was doing what they loved and being as much of a mediator between them and youngin's of the staff as you could.

It was a good thing to see your grandmother be so invigorated by the rush but she ran a tight ship that felt more like a sardine can lately with all the passive aggressive wars that often came with family businesses.

You cut that thought off before it could take root. That would always be there. Instead you turned your thoughts on the man who still managed to surprise you.

Fontaine waited up for you when you stayed behind for next-day prep. He met you at the front door with a blunt rolled and the shower steaming. He rubbed your aching feet as you pounded out a essay analysis.

Fontaine, bless his heart, has been nothing but supportive. Also rightfully worried, of you had to be honest.

How could you have forgotten the one night in the week that mattered most? That's what sent you over the edge at the end of it all. Not the 11:59 deadlines and collapsing cake towers--the fact you forgot about your man.

As of drawn by the sound of your spiraling thoughts, Fontaine knocked a little on the door before you saw his free forms peek in.

"I got you all set if you're ready, baby." He came in a bit further as if he hadn't already seen your all, "If you're ready, that is?"

The water sloshed as you rose instead of answering. Fontaine came fully into the bathroom with a towel stretched and waiting for you.

"Bring yo' lil self here."

The towel wrapped you up and you were delighted to feel it was fresh from the dryer. Fontaine hummed knowingly and rocked you a bit before pulling back to dry you off in earnest.

It felt silly at first, you wanted to grab the towel and insist that you had it but....it felt nice to be out of control for once.

You were then led to the bedroom instead of the living room. There you found your nest ready and waiting. There was no textbooks or notebooks to be found, or pens to be stuck by. Only one of Fontaine's hoodies and your well-loved sleeping shorts.

A single touch made you gasp in delight, Fontaine must have tossed everything into the dryer while you were soaking.

Once you were dressed, Fontaine patted your bottom and peeled the covers back. You dove between the covers and was immediately enveloped by lilac and fresh-linen scent.

"Stay put for me and let me go get some shit together, 'kay?"

" 'kay..."

Fontaine smiled at the sound of your crunchy, sniffly voice, "That's it. Find us something good to watch. Imma be back ."

He saw right through you. Though you knew he would be only a few paces away, somewhere in the house, it still felt too far at the moment. His reassurance that he'd come back had you melting into the blankets.

By the time you settled on Antique's Roadshow, Fontaine returns balancing two styrofoam containers, cups, and a 2 liter of your favorite Faygo.

The logo on the bag with the condiments let you know he ordered from the Mediterranean spot you've been hankering for. This man could have very well unlocked mind reading in hopes of getting you to take care....

You made room for him to settle beside you but Fontaine slid in and was nearly behind you. Emotion locked your throat as you watched Fontaine settle in.

"Thank you, Fontaine. For all of this."

Fontaine took the remote and lowered the volume when the nice lady from Vegas whooped about a found white gold watch.

"You're buried, right now. Gettin' pulled in all sorts of directions. I would have seen it by now had you not told me to be ready for it. That's something we've talked about happening when you started going back to school. What we also talked about is showing up. Remember that?"

It was one evening on the back porch days ago. You were frustrated with your progress with things. Of school, of family, of life. In feeling over overwhelmed by things to do, you strangely end up feel like you aren't doing much.

Fontaine looked into your wary eyes, "We've been making it work. We make time when we can. I let you sleep in because, baby, you needed it."

"You need me too. I need you...I have to be more-more mindful. You're what really matters to me. I should do more..."

Fontaine shook his head and took your hand again, looking at where you fingers laced quickly with his before putting them both against his chest.

"What you said to me when I asked? 'Showing up is doing something. Anything you can.' That goes both ways. Understand?"

You took in the earnest look on his face and couldn't resist kissing it. You probably tasted like stale gum but Fontaine surged forward all the same.

"Mhn, nope--no..." Fontaine pulled back and narrowed an eye at you, "Behave, missy. Food first--something that ain't no damn trail mix or whatever you be snacking on..."

Before you opened your tray, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Can you help me do something first?"

Fontaine was reaching over to pull one of your bonnets out of the nightstand as he answered, "Of course, baby. What do you need?"

"Moral support...."

Fontaine held you as you typed out an email to your professor and your cousin.

First asking for a two-day extension to polish and submit your paper. To your cousin, you apologized but insisted you needed the rest of the week off to get some rest and refocus yourself.

Though you doubted you would take the whole week, Fontaine correct to point out that a little wiggle room couldn't hurt just in case you did need it.

While you were going to have your phone on, all that they would need to get through the week would be ready for pick up and payment.

Before your stomach could sour after you hit send, your phone vibrated where it still was in your hand.

[Girl, fuck these oldies! Get some sleep and let them learn a lesson without you for once! 💜💕💞]

Your eyes welled as the pressure in your stomach eased away. Fontaine saw the way your shoulders sagged and took the hand still holding your phone, kissing the laxing knuckles.

"See? Handled that shit like a fuckin' boss." His other hand went behind your head, strong fingers massaging the base of your neck much to your pleasure.

You released an exhale as your eyes slipped close, unaware of the shadow of a smile on your face.

Fontaine shifted closer to get both hands on you, going for your temples and the knot of thoughts at the base of your skull as he murmured, "Mm. That's sexy as hell--do it again."

"Hm? What, breathe?"

Fontaine purred when you gave a more exaggerated puff of air and a laugh danced a laugh out of you. Between Fontaine's attention and the soft comforts surrounding you, it felt like you were going to be fine.

Fontaine's voice was at you ear, "That feel good? You like when I rub your big, pretty brain like this? Hm?"

Of course you did and of course he already knew. The tension in your neck was no match for the most dexterous fingers in all the Glenn.

"Hmm...dunno. I may need a few more minutes to decide for sure."

"You ain't got to tell me twice, let me get up in that kitchen..."

Luckily for you Fontaine didn't ease up at all. Careful of your dinner, he pulled until you were back to chest and set to work massaging your neck and temples.

All you could feel was his warmness, the give of your bed. All you could hear was the soft shift of styrofoam and an explanation of the popularity of faux gold in the 70's from the TV.

All you could think of, blissfully, was how much you wished you had the HP to jump 'Taine's bones...

Your stomach growled loudly and indignantly. Fontaine chuckled when you shushed it and brought his retreating hands back to your scalp.

"A little while longer and then I want to see you go through at least half that plate." Fontaine pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before popping your bonnet over your hair

"Then I'll rub you however much you'd like..."

With a little chirp of agreement, you flopped back against your man and let him do what he did best.

Take care of you.

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

💜ending notes💜: a long time coming and I'm so sorry anon, I hope you see this and know to please please please feel free to submit again! This ask saved me like no other🥹💞💜💕 thank you to those who were so kind during my burn out, slow and steady definitely wins the race lol! 🙏🏾✨💕

✨taglist✨: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful

@8ttached @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile

@ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93 @sageispunk @hunnishive

@notapradagurl7 @mcondance

@miyuhpapayuh @mogul93 @kindofaintrovert @blowmymbackout @kindofanenigma

@ellethespaceunicorn @soft-persephone

#fontaine x black reader #fontaine #fontaine x reader #x black reader #john boyega #they cloned tyrone #fontaine x blackfemreader #Submission fic #writing #x blackfemreader

62 notes · View notes

ghulehunknown · 1 year ago

Text

And He Sees Nothing Wrong With That

Terzo x F Reader

“You know you need to be punished for being too seducente”

Flashback Friday! Bringing back one of my first ever fics from AO3 and posting it here

Summary: Jealousy plagues Terzo’s mind after an unproductive and frustrating clergy meeting, and he sets out to prove you are his.

CW/Tags: sexual innuendo and humor, dry humping, oral sex (F receiving), public oral sex, vaginal fingering, light dom/sub, light degradation, light possessive behavior, spanking, established relationship, porn with plot

Word Count: 2.5K

On Saturday you headed into the chapel for a large meeting with Papa and several members of the clergy. You would finally be discussing the details of the next ritual installments.

During the first meeting of the day, Copia and one of the bishops kept staring at you and whispering to each other. Copia stole quick glances in your direction over and over. You quickly straightened the veil of your habit, feeling self conscious. Maybe they weren’t talking about you? You weren’t wearing anything revealing that day, your veil wasn’t out of place…So what could it be? You never had much interaction with the Cardinal before. You didn’t intend to return the looks but you couldn’t help your eyes darting back and forth through the pews to make sure if he was actually looking or not.

Terzo noticed this right away, and looked between you two while he was at the pulpit speaking. He paused momentarily, as he caught Copia’s eyes, then resumed speaking. “Ah sì, the fucking tour…” he trailed off, flipping through pages. “It’s going to be called the…” he traced his fingers along the paper and tapped it once he found the words. “Ah dio mio who wrote this shit?!”

You saw Copia frown a little and cross his arms. Slightly disgruntled, Terzo continued. “It’s the fucking Popestar Tour.” He gestured to himself, almost sarcastically showing off his full Papal regalia, and giving a little curtsy.

“I’m sorry, the Fucking Popestar Tour - are we fucking the audience now?” one of the other cardinals called out, garnering a few snickers from the clergy.

“What?” said Terzo.

Omega crumpled up his papers into a ball from the back pew and threw it at that cardinal’s head, nailing his target perfectly. The cardinal turned around to the ghoul, making foul gestures with his hands and cursing Satan’s name at him.

“Actually that’s a good idea!” piped up Copia for the first time in an hour, leaning forward in the front pew. That smart fucker, you thought. Pretend to sing praises of your Papa in front of the whole clergy while tearing him apart. He continued to glance towards you. You instinctively looked in his direction, now trying to warn him off from going any further, but he continued. “Papa Emeritus, we can barely afford these garments,” he said gesturing to Terzo’s robes. “Accounting is stretched thin, so we really should be thinking of ways to generate profit.”

Terzo shot a dark look in Copia’s direction, quickly shutting the Cardinal up. “Sì sì, like we have the time to line them up outside in the parking lot,” Terzo mused sarcastically. “You know,” he quipped, pointing his finger at Copia, boasting, “the shows have gotten bigger since I became Papa.” He glanced back at you and then to the audience.

“That’s perfect!” exclaimed one of the bishops. “Take a ride on the Pope - we’ll add it to the meet and greet experience!” (“Cazzo, that’s not what I meant,” said Terzo, though it fell on deaf ears.) The bishop clasped his hands together. “Hey, get HR on this immediately. Tack on an extra fifty euros to the regular meet and greet,” he murmured to the sister sitting next to him, who began scribbling on her clipboard. The rest of the audience murmured in agreement.

“Fifty…?” you could see Terzo mouth the words incredulously.

“Yes but how do we implement the fucking?” the sister asked. “Imperator will want to know the details.”

“Do we provide the condoms or does the audience?” someone else asked.

“Who said we’re using condoms?” shouted Rain, who sat in the back pews with the other ghouls. The younger ghouls whispered excitedly to each other and laughed boisterously. Alpha and Omega each took a turn to smack the younger ghouls on the back of the head, nearly knocking their masks off.

“We should definitely provide them,” said Copia. “You can’t trust any of these motherfuckers nowadays.”

“Who’s in charge of branding?” asked one of the cardinals. “They’ll be able to come up with something clever to put on the wrappers.”

“Cum Together!” said the sister, wagging her pen in the air, and continued writing furiously on her clipboard. Several clergy members nodded in agreement.

“Sì, just make it one big orgy,” added Copia, smiling sneakily, looking at you again. He chuckled. “You know, one time I went to an orgy - ”

“You shut up,” Terzo said, pointing a finger at Copia. Copia looked back at him offended but immediately snapped his mouth shut.

“Yes but HR will want to know the details - we need waivers a-and STD screenings - ” chimed in the sister, worriedly counting on her fingers before Terzo cut her off.

“No, no one is fucking me!” Terzo shouted. The room fell silent and he paused for a moment. “Not that cheaply anyway,” he added dryly, looking back through his notes to get back to the topic at hand. He scoffed and muttered under his breath, “Not since college…incredible.” He rolled his eyes and continued.

He finally calmed the audience down and finished speaking, then dismissed the clergy in a hurry to reconvene in fifteen minutes.

Copia leaned across the aisle to your pew before he left. “It was a good idea, no?” He shrugged his shoulders and walked towards the back pews to strike up conversation with the others.

Feeling annoyed, you turned back to him and started to say something but thought better of yourself and turned to face Terzo. Your eyes met his, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Oh shit, you thought, knowing just how this looked to him. You gathered your belongings and headed to the altar to start setting up the communion for mass later in the evening.

Terzo remained where he stood, gripping the sides of the pulpit as the clergy milled out of the front doors, tapping his fingers on the sleek mahogany. You could hear the gold nails on his leather black gloves click rhythmically against the wood. You gazed along his profile; he wore a frown and raised an eyebrow, looking straight ahead.

Once most of the clergy left, he walked over to the altar where you stood. “Come here, Sorella!” You tried to look busy to avoid the intensity of his gaze. His papal face paint looked even more menacing in the light of the chandelier, the light only picking up the white paint and his white eye. He seemed taller when he wore his mitre and full papal robes.

He grabbed the large silver Grucifix next to you and clutched your hair, forcing you face down and bending you over the altar. “We talked about this, Sorella. You understand the consequences, sì?”

You yelped. “Papa wait - ”

“Silence,” he commanded, pushing up your skirt and paddling you square on the ass with the metal cross. You let out a small moan. Fuck, why did that feel good? Your skin stung, mostly from the cold of the metal, as he wasn’t intending to mark you - only making a metaphorical point of who you belonged to.

“Yes, Papa,” you said, resigning while feeling your heart beat with excitement.

He tore down your panties to your ankles, spat into his hand, and shoved two clawed, gloved fingers into your pussy, unrelentingly moving them in and out. You moaned louder this time.

The two cardinals who were still in the back of the hall murmured and quickly shuffled out the front door.

“Sei mia,” he whispered menacingly quiet in your ear. He groped your left breast as he dry humped your thigh from behind, his golden nails still gripping you inside. “You know you need to be punished for being too seducente, si?”

You whined, the pain from his slap still stinging and his gold nails prodding your soft interior flesh. “Yes Papa I was so stupid,” you choked out, clinging to the cold marble altar for support. You could feel his rock hard erection prod into your thigh through his robes. He lifted up your leg to go deeper inside your cunt, now raw from his claws pounding into you feverishly.

He sighed contentedly. “You’re so tight, Sorella. I can feel you getting wetter with every touch, these gloves are sliding in so easily now. Cazzo!” he exclaimed, rubbing his clothed erection on your thigh in fervent passion. “You’re going to be moaning when the next session begins - just like my goddess should. Sei così futto bellissima. You are mine, and I am yours. I want the whole fucking clergy to see you’re mine, and show that idiota Copia his place. He thinks I’m some joke? I’ll show him.” He grabbed your jaw with his free hand. “You hear me?”

You nodded in his hand. “Terzo, my beloved, there’s nothing going on there! Please, believe me - ”

He pulled your hair back so you could see into his eyes. “I know bella mia, he’s just a prick. And he’s been making eyes at you. And how could he not - sei la più bella qui.” He relinquished the grasp on your hair, your hairline aching from his tight grip, and he swung your head back down to the marble. He continued fingering you from behind, pinning you down with his other arm to keep you from moving wildly by his frenzied, almost desperate touch. He kept looking towards the door. “Where’s your phone?” he asked.

You whined, barely able to utter another word.

“Your phone, your phone, principessa!” he urged.

You wanted to ask where his was but could only manage a few guttural moans and pointed to the floor, where your phone flew out of your habit moments earlier.

He bent down and picked it up to look at the lock screen, never breaking his rhythmic thrusts with his hand. He grunted and mumbled, “He knows better than to text you when I’m right here.” You leaned over to see 12:53 - seven more minutes until the next meeting was supposed to reconvene. “We can figure out how to kill time,” he said, finally easing up on you, now slowly entering you with just his index finger. “That’ll teach that stupido uomo ossessionato dai ratti not to covet what does not belong to him. Voglio assaporarti.”

Fuck, he really was going to one-up Copia.

He flipped you over so your back laid against the cool marble. He hovered over you and stared deep into your eyes as he slipped his gloved fingers out of you and into his mouth, moaning, tasting you. “Deliziosa,” he said. He slid two fingers back inside your dripping wet pussy, rolling his thumb over your clit. You grinded your hips against his hand, clutching the edge of the altar, hoping to hurry up your encounter before anyone else came back in. Small, wet sounds echoed along the stone walls.

You both glanced back at your phone - 12:55. The Cardinal was usually annoyingly early.

“Who makes you feel good?” he asked loudly.

“You do, Papa!” you screamed.

“Who do you belong to?” he demanded.

“You, Papa!”

“You would never leave me, not for him?” This last question sounded wounded, not a command. He broke your gaze briefly, looking at the floor, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He quickly flicked his eyes back to yours.

Why would he ask these questions? “Never my love,” you whispered, whimpering at his touch. Your clit quivered under his thumb, and your wet cunt contracted around his digits.

“Good girl.” He spread your legs apart, and ravished you with his tongue, flicking wildly around your clit and motioning a come-hither inside you with his index finger. You grabbed the sides of the altar in euphoria. Your body convulsed around him, your thighs wrapping around his neck. You lost control as your body tensed and released, Terzo moving expertly in rhythm with your hips, and you cried out in ecstasy, your ardent moans for your lover echoing through the chapel walls. Your arousal came flooding out of you, and Terzo latched his lips around your labia and sucked deeply, drinking you.

He gulped and chuckled, as he continued to finger you while he looked up. You followed his gaze to the front of the chapel, where Copia and several cardinals and bishops stood, mouths agape at the sight before them.

You quickly shoved him off you and pulled down your habit to cover yourself, but it was too late as they likely walked in just as you were wailing like an animal for your Papa.

“Are you quite finished?” one of the bishops asked, annoyed.

Copia was red in the face and glanced away as Terzo stared at him. He brought his arousal soaked fingers to his mouth again, exaggeratedly sucking them clean. “Oh sì, ho concluso il mio lavoro,” he said, answering the bishop but grinning at Copia, his face paint smeared around his mouth and chin.

You blushed, embarrassed; yet you tried to hide a grin yourself, because that was one of the most thrilling experiences of your life. You slid off the altar and stood beside Terzo, trying to conceal putting your underwear back on by standing behind his vestments. You held onto his shoulder for support, your legs shaking like mad.

Copia slowly made his way up the steps, papers and Unholy Book in hand, eyeing the altar where you just laid. You had left behind a small pool of your arousal - and probably some of Terzo’s saliva as well. “I see,” he muttered, a disgusted look on his face as he tried to find a clean surface to place his things. The remaining cardinals and bishops took their seats, eyeing Terzo with trepidation. It looked like everyone - Copia especially - had several words to say, but their place was beneath Papa.

Terzo grabbed you by the shoulders to whisk you away, and you both broke out into laughter as you made your way to the pews. As it was the Cardinal’s turn to lead this meeting, Terzo happily took his place in the second row pew, propping up his feet up on the back of the first row and leaning back contentedly with his hands behind his head. He proudly wore his smudged paint and the scent of you like a badge of honor. You took your place beside him, still stifling laughter.

Copia flipped through his Unholy Book, trying not to look at the two of you entwined in an embrace. Terzo kissed you on the temple, looking at Copia. “Cardinal, I know it must be hard for you to imagine such a passionate embrace, seeing as you’ve never pleased a woman…but this is how it’s done.”

Copia slammed his book shut and started to speak but suddenly fell silent. “Sister Imperator,” Copia said, bowing his head slightly in respect.

Imperator came entering the chapel and took her place a few rows behind you, on the opposite side of the aisle - almost as if to keep a close watch on you.

Terzo sank down into the pew, pulling up his robes to cover his face, as if that would make him invisible. You looked behind your shoulder, and caught a glimpse of her stern face.

What trouble would you be in now?

Italian to English Translations

- dio mio (my god)

- Cazzo (fuck)

- Sei mia (you’re mine)

- seducente (seductive)

- Sorella (Sister/Nun)

- Sei così futto bellissima (You are so fucking beautiful)

- Idiota (idiot)

- bella mia (my beauty)

- sei la più bella qui (you’re the prettiest here)

- principessa (princess)

- stupido uomo ossessionato dai ratti (stupid rat-obsessed man)

- Voglio assaporarti (I want to savor you)

- Deliziosa (delicious)

- Ho concluso il mio lavoro (I’ve finished my job)

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic #ghost band smut #papa emeritus x reader #terzo #terzo fanfiction #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii x female reader #terzhoe #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #terzo smut

163 notes · View notes