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goldenlikedayl1ght · 5 months ago

Text

...ready for it? - j.l. howlett

a/n: hi! here's a full version of a blurb i wrote a few days ago that got so much love so quick that i wanted to give yall a full version! the beginning is literally just the blurb but after that it's all new! like many of you wolverine brainrot has hit me hard, so here's graphic smut about him. leave a comment or a reblog if you enjoyed :) warnings: SMUT!!!!! some dumbification, use of pet names, reader is fem, reader is a mutant and able to control plants, lots of cursing, lots of grotesque fliritng/fantasies, some soft moments, some sort of primal sex, oral (fem receiving), some of the setting is probs inaccurate but whatever. let me know if i missed any big ones!! word count: 4.9 k summary: well, you had to find some way of entertaining yourself at charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters. and you have always liked an emotionally unavailable, absolutely hung, challenge. pairing: logan howlett x mutant!reader now playing: ...ready for it? - taylor swift "in the middle of the night, in my dreams/you should see the things we do, baby/in the middle of the night in my dreams/i know i'm gonna be with you, so i take my time"

You are absolutely enthralled with him. It’s actually sort of pathetic how your fingers twitch at the sight of him, at how the mention of his name or god forbid the sound of his voice makes your head snap up, attention deficit disorders be damned!

Funnily enough, you had no damn interest in Xavier’s stupid mutant school, because to you, you’re not an outsider because of your mutant abilities (that don’t have much of a physical apparition, at least one that you can’t hide) but because there’s never been much of a place for you to fit in.

But, you were behind on rent and of course, you fucking hate your job, so why not? You’d be able to be slightly less of a freak, and you’d get free room and board in the process! (Where Charles gets all of his money, you do not know.)

And because you’re a little older, Charles doesn’t force you to sit in a class room to learn about basic arithmetic and grammar lessons, so you really only do some training around three times a day, you have your own room (with a dusty box under the other bed, you also suspect your room used to be the ‘sex’ room) and you have the weekends off.

So for a twenty something year old with few ambitions, the social skills of a Martian with autism, and a huge crush on every older emotionally unavailable man you meet, it’s a pretty good set-up.

You’re waiting for time to pass in the garden, just reading a rather interesting book that Charles had recommended after he noticed you needed something to pass time before you started making bad decisions.

You hear his heavy footsteps on the gravel before you see him. Your heart beats faster, but you will yourself, do everything in your power not to glance up at him. And you let out a breath as you succeed, keeping your head down.

“In your natural habitat, are you, spitfire?” Your head darts up to him—There’s no way he isn’t talking to you, you know you’re the only one in this garden. And you can see his lips twitch up and you want to crawl out of your skin!

“My-My natural habitat?” You laugh, closing the book you’re reading because your attention is locked to him now.

“Yeah, seems like it.” He saunters on up to you and sits on the bench next to you.

And let’s make something very clear—

Logan Howlett does not sit.

This man poses, as if there’s always some invisible camera capturing every frame of movement, from the way his legs spread out, to the way his chest lifts when he inhales.

Fuck, you think you might die if you can’t suck him off right now.

“And what exactly is my uh.. habitat?” You question.

He takes out his lighter and a cigar, placing the cigar in his mouth as he gestures to the space around the two of you, lighter in hand.

“A garden.” He says, matter of facility, as his voice is muffled only the slightest bit by the cigar.

And you just sort of look at him before asking,

“Oh, you enjoy being boiled down to your mutations, Claws?” You question, and as he goes to light the cigar, he smirks.

“Alright, you gotta admit though, it is cliché!”

You are absolutely in agreement, there is zero doubt you are as much of a walking, breathing, real life living, stereotype.

“It is not!” And the pair of you give each other this look, like you’re both shocked at how whiney that statement is!

“Uh-huh, sure, Spitfire.” It sounds almost like he’s purring at you.

When he lights his cigar, he’s sort of eying you for your reaction, whatever you might say.

“You know, smoking is not only bad for you, it’s awful for the environment.”

“You’re probably the most cliché little freak around here.” Which.. honestly..? Shouldn’t possibly turn you on as much as it does.

You just stare at him for a minute, and he smirks.

“Cat got your tongue?’

And maybe it’s stupid and maybe it’s immature but your hand just comes over to fiddle with the pointed part of his hair.

“We’ll you certainly look the part.” He just looks at you, and honestly? The way he’s looking at you, it’s like he’s proud of you for teasing him.

“Aw, there’s my little spitfire,” He teases, just to see how red you get. And red you are— it’s embarrassing. And here’s the kicker—You are young. Exceptionally young, and what’s insane about that? How horny it makes both you and Logan.

The idea of fucking your innocent cunt, tight and all his, drives him genuinely mad. And you are, quite literally, a whore for the idea of riding this older man’s dick. You know he’s big—sometimes you see the outerline of it when he walks away from you all huffy and puffy.

“You’re a tease, Claws.” You respond, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Says you,” he raises and eyebrow, leaning closer to you now, “You’re the one laying around in the sun, looking like that.”

“Looking like this?” You scoff. You’re wearing a muscle tee and a pair of ripped jeans, but the gaps are huge and he can see your thighs. He wants to devour you, and you would let him if he only asked.

And let’s be clear—he is fucking you with his eyes. There’s no way to go around it.

“I think you’re just.. horny.” You tease, and he just growls. Seriously, this man who is undressing you with his eyes, growls, because he does want you and he is horny!

“I think you’re onto something.” He purrs, and you want to just.. god. You don’t know how to express the pit of desire that grows in you. “I would fuck you until you couldn’t think, right here among your pretty flowers. Would you like that, baby?” he asks, his hand finding your thigh.

But you just cough on the smoke from his cigar, before frowning.

“You really shouldn’t smoke.”

“Aw, I’ll make it up to you.” He smirked. “Promise, spitfire.”

He’s very close to you now, so you take a second to just breath and you know that he knows that he’s got you—hook, line, and sweet, sweet sinker.

And then you realize what exactly it is that you’ve gotten yourself into. And what a nightmare it is—Or maybe a dream if you listen to the pathetic part of your brain, but you are into this an in a way that is concerning for your own mental wellbeing and desperately want to avoid him having all the power in this situation.

“Oh, I am sure you will.” You assure. You lean forward, plucking the cigar from his lips, and placing it on the ground, squashing it beneath your heel. With a flick of your wrist, vines and grass grow over the cigar, composting it. And from the vines, grows a small little buttercup flower.

You lean down and pluck the flower from the grass, before tucking it behind Logan’s ear.

“You should take care of that hard-on you have, Claws.” You hum, before standing up, and walking away. And for a minute, he just watches you go—partly to because you have an amazing ass, but partly because you have absolutely flabbergasted him.

And have made him want you even more.

• • •

The next time you see him is the next night, in the woods near the mansion. Because the literal sixteen year olds you go to ‘school’ with do not know how to do anything on the weekend except drink, fuck, and smoke.

Honestly, you kind of fit in great.

So here you are, nursing a mason jar of.. some fucked up concoction, and you’re not too sure what’s in it, but you have drunk two of them and are on your third. You think you might live forever, until you glance up and see Logan, in these fuck me jeans and this burnt orange flannel and a wife beater.

Instantly, you know that you’ll die tonight if you don’t have him.

He approaches you with this cocky smirk as if he hasn’t realized your intoxicated state yet.

“Now what’s a little spitfire like you doing all alone on a Friday night?” he questions, tilting his head. His smirk is deadly. And you roll your eyes.

“Here comes the big bad Wolverine, all bark and no bite.” You scoff, and his eyes flash with surprise. Only for a second, but even drunk, you notice the way his eyes shoot up in surprise.

“All bark and no bite? That’s quite the accusation.” He hums.

“Well, we’ve been.. eye fucking each other for a few weeks now, and you haven’t even kissed me yet. I get being into foreplay and edging, but holy shit, Claws, throw a girl a bone once in a while.” You scoff, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Are you.. drunk?”

“Do you think I’m drunk?”

“Yeah, you’re drunk.” He sighs. You respond by taking another sip of your drink, but before the bitter liquor hits your tongue, he snatches the bottle from you.

“Let me take you home.” You’re sure your eyes look like hearts, so, dreamily and a little love struck, you respond,

“’Kay.”

And he chuckles a little bit at that.

“We’re not gonna do anything, I’m just gonna walk you home, spitfire.” He starts, and your face falls a little bit, but in an effort to hide it, you respond,

“..’kay.” And he sees right through you. You’re pretty much an open book. And the alcohol doesn’t help. His pointer finger and thumb comes to your chin, and he gently rubs his thumb against your lip.

“Don’t be like that, pup. It’ll happen soon. Just not tonight, okay?” He assures.

“’Kay.” You answer softly, and you think he smiles at you but your vision is sort of blurry. Then, you blink, as a gust of wind moves through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. He sighs, and wordlessly takes off his flannel, before wrapping it around you. Your arms slip into the sleeves, and you almost cry because it’s like, the best hug in the entire world. “Won’t.. you be cold, then?” you question, and he just shakes his head.

“Let’s get you home, spitfire.” He holds a handout to you, and without a second thought, you take his hand. He wraps his arm around you, and you lean against him like it’s something the two of you do often. If you were sober, you might short circuit. But, you’re not, so it feels right.

The walk home is quiet, but Logan’s thumb gently rubs against your shoulder. He wants to do more, but he knows he shouldn’t, since you are in fact plastered.

You ignore the giggles and whispers from teenagers making their way past you to the party or to their rooms, and you even ignore the way their giggles stop when they meet Logan’s gaze.

When you get back to your room, you take a second to lean against the door, and he takes a second to admire the way you look in his clothes.

“Ready for bed?” he asks gently, and you just smile at him.

“You’re really pretty.” He just does the half scoff-half chuckle that you’re obsessed with. Then, he wraps his arm around you again, opening the door to your room, and guiding you inside. He gets you to your bed and sits you down, before kneeling in front of you to untie your boots. “Has anyone ever told you how good you look on your knees?” you ask.

He just gives you this smirk.

“One or two pretty girls back in the day.” He says, “None as pretty as you though, spitfire.” He says, and you groan, leaning back and laying on the bed, as he pulls off your boots.

“You’re awful.” And you need him.

“Yes, I know, baby.” His voice is almost condescending, and it turns you on. But then he stands up, grabbing the folded blanket from the edge of your bed, and laying it over you. He finds his place kneeling next to you again as you stare at him, cozy in bed. His hands gently brush hair from your face. “Do you need anything else?”

“You.”

“Soon. But not yet, pup. You’re too drunk.” He says softly.

“Thanks for walking me home, Claws.”

“You’re very welcome, Spitfire.” He purrs, leaning forward and kissing your forehead gently. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Logan.” You mumble as you drift off to sleep. He sits there for a few minutes, just looking at you for a long time before he gets up and creeps out of your room.

• • •

The next morning, you sit in the cafeteria, drinking a large coffee, and nursing the worst hangover, possibly of your life. Made even worse by the fractions of memories about what happened last night.

You rub your eyes, flinching when you hear the clatter of a plate on the table, and someone sitting across from you. You peek through the gaps of your fingers to see Logan sitting across from you, a smirk on his face.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

“I hate you. Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he laughs. But he sees how much pain you’re in, and slides two pieces of sourdough toast to you. “Truce?”

“Truce.” You agree, taking a slice and biting into it. You feel better.

And after a moment of silence, he asks,

“I’m never getting my flannel back, am I?”

Truthfully, the flannel has been folded neatly and tucked into your drawer, for the next time you need some comfort.

You tilt your head, looking right into his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

• • •

Weeks go by like this.

You spend your days either going to class or hanging out—okay, it’s more like flirting with a side of hanging out, with Logan. The pair of you become quite close, and maybe that’s why you haven’t fucked yet.

Oh, the two of you want to, and it’s obvious to everyone (Charles has called you out for being distracted more times than you can count, and you remind him not to probe your mind, and he tells you he does not need his mutant abilities to see that your thoughts linger elsewhere.) but you’re.. afraid, at this point.

Which is odd, because you’re no virgin, you know he wants you, but.. what if everything changes after that? Maybe he’ll start to avoid you. Maybe you’ll start to avoid him. And you’ve really become good friends, and don’t want to lose it.

And then, there’s the fact that half the time, he’s away on dangerous missions, and even if he can regenerate, you worry about him. But he hasn’t been on any lately, so it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You’re sitting in the garden when it happens.

He finds you, and this time, you do not even try to hide the way your head picks up and gazes at him.

“Hi, Spitfire.” He grins, and you smile a bit at him.

“Claws, what can I do for you?” And he sits next to you, and for some reason, maybe because he doesn’t say anything at first, you know that there is something wrong. And you know what it is.

After a few minutes, you glance to him.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is quiet, as if you’re scared that if it gets any louder, everything will fall apart.

“Yeah. Charles has me going on another mission.” He doesn’t say it, but you both know this isn’t an involuntary thing.

“Cool.” You cringe at your reaction.

“I guess.” He laughs weakly, as if he knows he’s twisting a knife buried within you.

Silence fills the air. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it isn’t the relaxed silence you’re used to with him. Confessions dance on the tips of your tongues, and you’re so close to saying it, that when you turn to each other suddenly, you just need to look at each other for a second.

“Be safe.” You say quietly. “And hurry back.” You request, and you try not to sound like you’re begging.

“Of course.” He says, like it perplexes him that you even have to request. “I can’t leave you here yearning for me forever, can I?” He teases, and for a moment, you have this flash of an alternate universe where he does die on this mission and you are trapped in this garden forever, waiting for him. Like a lost puppy, or worse, a lost lover. The mere thought of it fucks with your head.

“No. You can’t. I won’t allow it.” You explain, “If anything, I’m the one that should be haunting you.” He just smiles. A real, not at all awkward smile.

“I’m sure you will, spitfire.” He says, and his head comes forward so that his forehead is resting against yours.

“When do you leave?” You ask gently, and he sighs. His breath smells of mint and cigar smoke, maybe even a hint of lemon.

“An hour. I have to pack quick and then debrief.” He answers you.

And just as love struck as you were the night of the party, you answer,

“’Kay.” You smile weakly at him. And he just.. looks at you for a few minutes before sighing again. He pulls away and leans up to kiss your forehead again, before standing up. He turns a few steps away from you just to tease you.

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?” he requests softly. Before you can stop yourself, you stand up, and wrap your arms around him. He only pauses for a half a second before he returns your embrace, and it becomes apparent that you both needed this moment. You stay like this for a few minutes before you pull away.

“Bring me back a souvenir.” You try, a soft smile on your face.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll bring you something great from the great city of Tulsa, Ohklahoma.” He grins.

“Deal.”

• • •

For the next week, you feel like this must be what it was like for housewives when their husbands went to war. You knew all too well that that statement was extremely dramatic, but you simply cannot help yourself.

You think you might die by day three.

It’s like you’re going through withdrawals and it’s making you go genuinely insane.

You have worn this man’s flannel for almost the entire week, because at first you’re a little self-conscious of other people noticing your repeating outfits, but only at first. By day four, you have decided you don’t give a single fuck.

Day eight you’re just laying in bed, quietly making a list of all the positions you want him to take you in. It’s a long list. You’re brought back to reality by a knock on your door. You’re about to snap, knowing that you’ll tell whatever child has been sent to bother you to scram, but when you open the door, you grin widely.

Logan stands there, looking tired, but he’s smiling and holding up a shot glass that reads ‘Tusla’, and has skyline on it.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d get you a souvenir?” He asks, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, pulling him in. He hugs you back, making sure to squeeze you just a bit—your feet barely come off the ground.

He pulls away, and you grin up to him.

“You came back.” You say it as if you can barely believe it, and just for a moment, he feels an emotion he can’t quite place, but he ignores it.

“Of course I came back, spitfire. All in one piece too, as requested.” He grins, and you’re just.. amazed at the look of him. “What’s that look for?” He asks gently, tilting his head.

“I just..” you start.

And then you break.

You lean up and kiss him gently, those stupidly delicious sideburns making your stomach flip. He doesn’t waste time, kissing you back, his arms around your waist. After a minute, you pull away.

“Sorry. I’m kind of done playing that game of waiting for you to kiss me. I just got the first hit of you I’ve had all week, and I feel fucking amazing.” You confess, and sure, it’s not a big grand love confession with tears and poetry, but your words make him kiss you so intensely that you start backing into your room, his hands exploring your body as you tug off his leather jacket, a new flannel for you to steal coming off soon after.

He keeps kissing you as his hands come down to your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, before gently pushing you to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, and begins to tug off your boots again, then, on your jeans.

You grin.

“You know, I’m getting the oddest sense of déjà vu. Something about you looking great on your knees.” You tease, and he just tugs off your jeans in one strong swoop, before leaning in to bite your thigh. You gasp, your hands coming up to tug his hair.

Then, he begins to tug at your panties, and you tilt his head up, glancing at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, before I was interrupted, I was about to eat you out.”

“Wait, really?”

He blinks, confused.

“Yeah. Is that a, uh.. problem..?” He hasn’t gotten any complaints yet.

“I just.. I didn’t think guys actually did that, I thought it was just.. a porno thing.” And at this, the man who is about to burry his face between your thighs, laughs. And not just a chuckle, this man hollars. “What’s so funny, claws?” You ask, a little suspicious.

“Nothing,” he promises, “I am just going to take such good care of you, pup.”

“I’m holding you to that, claws.” And then, he leans in and begins to kiss your thighs, gently biting down here and there. Then, he licks a stripe along your cunt, and you let out this loud moan, and your hand comes up to clamp over your mouth, but he reaches up to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

He pulls away to lecture you. Lecture you. On his knees. Head between your thighs.

“Nuh-uh, I wanna hear all the pretty noises you can make for me.” Then, softer, he adds, “Never been eaten out before, fuckin’ travesty.” He mumbles, before leaning in to lick your cunt again, beginning to lap his tongue over your throbbing heat.

His nose rubs against your clit, and it’s enough to drive you genuinely crazy. You’re unsure how you’ve gotten to this point in your life without having your pussy worshipped like this, but with him around, you’re pretty sure you’ll never go another day without it.

His tongue continues to work magic on your cunt, as his nose presses against your clit, stimulating you to the point of making you see stars.

Your hands tug at his hair, and the moan that it elicits from him is enough to send vibrations through your cunt through your stomach. Your head leans back as you moan, and for a moment, you hope there is no mutant in this mansion with super hearing.

His free hand grips your thigh as he bends your leg back to get better access, as he continues to eat you out. The mere taste of you is enough to drive him crazy—He almost wants to start thrusting into the side of your bed, he’s so hard, but he ignores that urge to continue to eat you out.

“Mm—Lo, I—I’m gonna—”

He just hums into your cunt, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze of approval, before his tongue moves even faster (if that’s even possible, though, he is an amazingly surprising man), and suddenly—

You feel a release you have been waiting for weeks, and it is fucking phenomenal. And the Wolverine just licks up all your cum, even if it makes your thighs shake, but honestly, he doesn’t care and neither do you. For a moment, you just listen to the sound of your own pants.

After a minute, you are able to look at him, and he just looks up to you with the same smirk that has been torturing you for all of those weeks. And you just have to pull him up to kiss you, like it’s the only way you’ll be able to live.

As you kiss him, you pull off his wifebeater and then your hands rest on the sides of his face as he pulls off your shirt as well, before his hands begin to make quick work of his belt, wanting to skip all of the pleasantries and just fuck you.

But when he finally gets his jeans off, you pull away, and he stares at you like you’re crazy.

“What the fuck could possibly be more important than me fucking you stupid?”

“Will you just.. let me look at you?” You scoff, your eyes flickering over him to just memorize every square inch of his body. He humors you for a few minutes, standing there with his hands on hips before he leans in and cages you in with his arms.

“Show’s over, spitfire.” He purrs, leaning in to kiss you, slowly making his way closer to you so that you’re laying back on your bed. At some point during the kiss, his boxers come off, and when you feel his cock against your cunt, you moan into the kiss, and you can feel his smirk against your lips.

Oh, you could kill him. But, you suspect maybe he’ll get to you first.

After he kisses you for a few minutes, he pulls away to tell—not ask, tell you, “I’m going to fuck you now.” And you know your line.

“’Kay.” He grins at this and kisses you again, before lining himself up and starting slowly. He just has the tip inside of you, and you begin to moan, your grip on his shoulders tightening. You already feel entirely too full, and he slowly agonizingly slowly pushes into you, and he sees how his size makes your face twitch,

“Shh, shh, I know, pup. Deep breathes for me, bub,” he says softly, such a stark contract to his rough movements, as he bottoms out and has his entire cock inside of you. And he gives you a second, watching as your face relaces, adjusting to the size of him. “Okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“’Kay,” You assure, and he kisses your forehead.

“’Kay.” He responds, and before you can tease him for it, he begins to thrust into you, slowly as first, but he continues to quicken his pace. Your nails begin to scratch on his back, and he lets out this angelic moan—You must’ve died and went to heaven.

As his thrusts quicken, the lines quickly blur between quick ruts and an animalistic need, manifesting itself in the way he fucks you. You know you won’t last long, especially when his fingers find your clit and begin to rub it again.

“Fuck! Oh my god—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, his free hand coming to your thigh to lift your leg up, only for better access to your throbbing cunt, “God, I love the feeling of you around me.. Worth the wait, I promise.” He grumbles, as he thrusts into you, his only goal to make you cum.

You want to respond to that—To tease him, to make him feel as shy as you do, but he has completed his goal of fucking you stupid.

All you can do is respond, “Fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby, go ahead, cum for me,” he requests softly, leaning in to press a rather jarringly sweet kiss to your lips.

As you cum around his cock, he shudders, the look of you, laying there fucked dumb, is almost too much for him to bear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, pup,” he tells you, and all you can do is moan in response, which makes him come that much closer to the edge. After a few more thrusts, with a euphoric moan that will haunt you forever, his hot cum fills you up, leaving the pair of you clawing at each other, wanting more.

When you’re both finally finished riding out your high, Logan lays next to you, keeping you close. His grip on you is tight—possessive. When you finally find your voice, you ask,

“You’re not gonna turn me into a booty call, are you, claws?”

And he laughs.

“No,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head. “You’re gonna be my best girl, Spitfire.”

“Does this mean I get to steal another of your flannels?”

“I’ll give you my whole fucking wardrobe to see how many times I can make you cum.”

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #logan howlett blurb #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine blurb #wolverine smut #xmen smut #deadpool and wolverine #danny speaks to the void

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samuelsdean · 7 months ago

Text

Flicker

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: "can i hold your hand?" you blurted out, surprised by your own boldness. a flicker of surprise crossed dean's face, quickly replaced by a ghost of a smile that sent a jolt through you. "yeah," he said, his voice softer than you were used to hearing. "yeah, you can."

genre: fluff

word count: 1.3k

author's notes: hi! here's another dean fic because i'm having a winchester brainrot after choosing to rewatch the show for the nth time. it's fluff again because i'm a sucker for soft!dean and i like it when idiots who are mutually pining for each other finally hold hands after 9989 years.

THE WIND HOWLED LIKE A WOLF ON A FULL MOON ON A PERPETUALLY OVERCAST NIGHT. It scoured the dust from the abandoned house's roof, a skeletal silhouette against the bruise-colored sky. The once-white picket fence weathered to a sickly gray, stood like crooked teeth in a decaying grin. The trees behind it, looming and stark, clawed at the sky, their branches whispering secrets the wind refused to carry.

You shivered, the cold a mere whisper compared to the unsettling feeling that prickled your skin. This place, nestled in a forgotten fold of a desolate highway at the edge of a forest, vibrated with a wrongness that made the hairs on your arms stand on end.

"This place feels… dicey," Dean muttered, his voice barely audible over the wind. He scanned the deserted midway, his eyes narrowed in a way that spoke volumes of past encounters with the unsettling.

"Think the rumors were true?" you asked, swallowing hard against the lump of unease in your throat.

The "rumors" were the reason you were standing in this creepy house at dusk. A string of disappearances, whispers of screams echoing in the dead of night, all traced back to this desolate stretch of road. Apparently, there was an urban legend of sorts in the area where a couple would get a flat tire out of nowhere, and with the area being nothing but just a highway and trees, the couple would choose to trek to a nearby house, only for them end up missing right after.

"Why? Are you scared?" A wry smile tugged at the corner of Dean's lips as he teased you. Before you could shoulder-check him for bugging you, he added, "Maybe, maybe not. But sticking together's the best bet we got, wouldn't you say?"

His gaze met yours, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a flicker of something akin to concern beneath the gruff exterior. It was a rare glimpse into the man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Dean Winchester grew up suppressing whatever emotion he had besides his usual cocky demeanor and smirks because he had to raise Sam, his younger brother while hunting whatever it is that crawled out of the depths of hell. And Dean did a damn great job at that, Sam was now off to Stanford.

At that moment, the fear dissipated, replaced by a fierce determination.

"Yeah," you said, your voice firmer than you felt. "Let's get out of here."

He extended his hand, his calloused fingers surprisingly warm against your own. You hesitated for a beat, the implication of the gesture hanging heavy in the air. It was more than just a practical suggestion; it was a silent promise of support, a brief moment of connection you craved with this gruff hunter.

"Can I hold your hand?" you blurted out, surprised by your own boldness.

A flicker of surprise crossed Dean's face, quickly replaced by a ghost of a smile that sent a jolt through you. "Yeah," he said, his voice softer than you were used to hearing. "Yeah, you can."

You laced your fingers through his, the gesture a silent affirmation that went beyond the immediate danger. But for you, it was also a chance for something more, a stolen moment of skinship you yearned for.

As you walked, the wind seemed to whisper secrets around you, the creaking of the dilapidated house a morbid soundtrack. Each creak sent shivers down your spine, but Dean's grip remained steady, a reassuring anchor. You couldn't help but steal glances at him, his profile etched sharply against the dying light. The way his worn jacket barely contained the heat radiating from his body made your cheeks flush.

His hand, usually so quick to let go, lingered in yours. You weren't sure if he noticed the way your thumb brushed against his calloused skin, a silent plea for a little more contact. Maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through your veins, or the way the danger heightened your senses, but Dean felt like a furnace beside you.

Suddenly, a flash of movement in the corner of your eye. A hulking shadow, all wrong angles, and unnatural speed darted behind a boarded-up ticket booth. A guttural growl, unlike anything you'd ever heard, ripped through the air. Your heart hammered against your ribs like a trapped bird.

"Did you see that?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind.

Dean squeezed your hand, a silent acknowledgment, his hold tightening almost imperceptibly. This time, you were certain it wasn't just the danger.

"Stay close," he said, his voice low and gravelly.

He unsheathed his knife, its silver glinting in the fading light. You drew your own weapon, a wave of nausea washing over you. You hated this part, the constant feeling of being on the edge of a knife.

Stepping cautiously forward, you and Dean crept toward the source of the movement. The closer you got, the more the air crackled with an unnatural energy, the scent of decay thick and cloying. As you rounded a corner, the full horror of the creature revealed itself.

Towering over you was a monstrous figure, its once-human form twisted and warped. Its skin, a patchy mix of worminess and sickly shade, hung greasy. Claws, like sharpened daggers, protruded from its elongated fingers. But the most terrifying aspect was its face. A grotesque mockery of a human, its eyes burned with a bloodshot sclera devoid of any humanity.

The Rougarou, a creature born of insatiable hunger and despair, let out a bone-chilling roar, the sound echoing through the abandoned carnival. It lunged a blur of teeth and wormy skin.

The fight was a desperate ballet of survival. Dean, drawing on years of experience, moved with practiced efficiency, dodging the Rougarou's attacks while searching for an opening. You fought with a mix of fear and determination, adrenaline fueling your movements.

The Rougarou swiped at you with a clawed hand, leaving a searing mark across your arm. Pain flared, but you gritted your teeth, refusing to let it slow you down.

Dean created an opening, shouting, "Fire!" You lunged for your pocket, the familiar weight of the lighter a comfort in your hand. Snapping it open, you flicked the wheel, a flame erupting in the dying light. Hurling it with all your might, you aimed for the Rougarou's chest.

It shrieked, a sound that seemed to tear at the fabric of reality itself. The flame erupted on its body, a blossom of searing orange against the decaying flesh. The Rougarou thrashed, its inhuman roar turning into a desperate, pained yowl. It stumbled back, clawing at the burning fur, an unholy stench filling the air.

Fear, raw and primal, flickered in its eyes. But fear was a fleeting emotion for the creature. It roared again, charging at you with a desperate, burning lunge. This time, you were ready. You rolled to the side, the creature's claws missing you by a hair's breadth. Taking advantage of its momentum, Dean drove his silver knife into the Rougarou's back.

The creature howled in pain, clawing wildly. With a final, earth-shaking tremor, it collapsed, dissolving into a cloud of black smoke that dissipated with a sickly sweet stench.

You and Dean stood there, chests heaving, sweat clinging to your skin. The silence that followed was deafening.

"That was..." you started, your voice raspy.

"A Rougarou," Dean finished, his voice grim. "Nasty sons of bitches."

He reached out, checking the wound on your arm. His touch was surprisingly gentle. "You okay?"

You nodded, a weak smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks to you."

Dean met your gaze, a flicker of something warm passing between you in the fading light. He didn't say anything, but the way his hand lingered on your arm spoke volumes.

Together, you walked out of the abandoned place, the wind whispering through the trees, no longer sounding ominous but strangely peaceful. The horrors you'd faced had brought you closer, forging a bond forged in danger and shared survival. You knew this wouldn't be your last hunt, but for now, you had each other. And in that knowledge, you found a flicker of hope, a warmth that chased away the lingering chills of the night.

#supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst #supernatural smut #dean winchester #dean winchester fandom #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x oc

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cherrieflavouredheadcanons · 10 months ago

Note

Sorry to send you another request, but I just got hit with this sudden brainrot:

Could I get short headcanons of how the dorm leaders would do for the orange peel theory?

I was so into writing this, that I accidentally made it with the overblot gang (aka Jamil and not Kalim) and didn’t notice until I was done😭. I hope that’s okay, but if you want a Kalim one (or any others) just send in another request! Also these ended up way longer than i intended... But I hope you all enjoy them nontheless!

Orange peel theory

Characters: Overblot gang CW: None, just fluff, established relationships, Reader is the prefect

Riddle Rosehearts

You and Riddle were studying together, or rather, he was studying and you pretended to study as you were looking at the oranges on the desk.

Whenever you studied together Riddle places a bowl of fruits on the table for you two to snack on, they were usually always strawberries and many other berries but today an Orange was included.

You remembered a trend from your world where people would ask their partners to peel an orange for them and it would show if they were willing to do small things for them, you smiled as you realised you finally had someone to test said theory out on.

Taking the orange into your hand you looked at it, and then at Riddle thinking for a moment before holding it out to him.

“Riddle, can you peel this for me please?”

The housewarden had been so focused on his studying that he got surprised when you asked him something, once he realised what you had asked he raised an eyebrow quietly wondering to himself why you couldn't do it yourself.

But he was raised to be a gentleman, and he honestly loved doing small things for you so he nodded and carefully peeled the fruit for you, making you smile.

Once you got the peeled fruit back you were amazed by how careful he peeled it, no white skin was seen anywhere anymore, and the pieces were all nicely separated.

Leona Kingscholar

Sitting in his room you stared at the Lion beastman laying on his bed, you knew he wasn’t sleeping yet by the way his tail flickered but he certainly was about to.

Ace had dared you to try the orange peel theory on Leona, more specifically try it when he was about to sleep and you agreed for some reason you can’t remember. He had given you an orange before you went to Savanaclaw to spend the night in Leona’s room.

“Hey…Leona?” Your voice was quiet as you asked, looking at your tired boyfriend.

“...mhm?” Well…at least he acknowledged you calling out to him. “...can you peel this orange for me?”

He lazily opened one eye, looking at you. “Can’t you do it yourself Herbivore?” His voice had a teasing tone in it, but he didn’t move a muscle.

You visibly deflated, granted you had expected such an outcome but still, it was kinda disappointing.

Leona sighed once he saw you looking disappointed and sat up. “Hand over the orange.” You perked up as soon you heard it and handed it over with a smile.

He peeled it and then gave you the orange along with the peels back. “Never ask me for anything again.” He said as he laid back down, but you knew he wasn’t serious. “Also come sleep with me once you eat your damn orange.”

His peeling job wasn't the best, and there was a lot of the white skin left on the orange and the pieces weren’t separated, but you were flattered that he still did it. And of course you cuddled up to him once you ate it.

Azul Ashengrotto

Sitting in the Mostro Lounge you were eating from a fruit platter Azul had brought you, a blush on his face as he sat it down in front of you.

Just as you were about to take a strawberry from it, Floyd suddenly put an Orange on it. “Heey Shrimpy, I have heard of this trend that couples do involving an orange and I wanna see you try it on Azul!”

You knew what trend he was talking about and were confused why he wanted you to try it on Azul, but he refused to say the reason at least until you actually did it. Knowing Floyd, you knew he would keep pestering you until you did.

Sighing, you grabbed the orange and made your way to Azul’s office as Floyd cheered you on.

Walking into the office you saw him working on some contracts. “Hey, Azul? Floyd gave me an Orange for my fruit platter, but it’s not peeled so could you maybe do it for me?”

Poor Azul did not expect you to suddenly be in his office, he got so scared he choked on his spit for a second, looking at you like you were a ghost.

“Angelfish! You can’t just come in here with no warning and scare me like that!” You did not say anything in return instead you held out the orange to him and looked at him expectedly.

“Expecting me to peel you an orange without me getting anything back? How preposterous” He had a blush on his face as he took the orange out of your hands, peeling it nonetheless. You smiled knowing he didn’t need you to give him anything back for peeling it. He handed you the peeled orange back, and you kissed his cheek as a thanks making the poor octopus blush even harder.

His peeling job was immaculate, with how well it was peeled you could think a robot did it, and of course he separated the pieces for you as well.

Jamil Viper

Sitting in the Scarabia lounge you were waiting for Jamil to come back from cooking a meal for Kalim, you wanted to join him and help him but he refused saying you should just wait in the lounge. You were scrolling through Magictok to pass the time a bit faster

As you sit there scrolling you notice the fruit basket sitting there. You remembered Kalim telling you that you can just grab whatever they are there to be eaten after all.

That's when you come across a video talking about the orange peel theory, you see people explain it and also try it out.

Not only does it make you crave an orange, but it also makes you wanna try the theory on Jamil. But you knew he had much on his plate already, having to make every meal for Kalim, so you decided against it. You were pretty sure that Jamil would do it if you asked him anyways.

You put your phone aside and go to grab an orange from the basket, looking for the best one. (They are all of the highest quality since Kalim brought them). Grabbing a nice big one you want to start peeling it.

That’s when suddenly it gets snatched out your hand, looking up to see who took your orange, ready to lecture them you see its Jamil. Wordlessly he starts peeling it.

You look at him confused, when did he come in and how did you not notice it? He could have said something at least instead of scaring you by snatching your orange. If he wanted one you would have given him one!

Just as you were about to ask him why he took your orange away and began peeling it himself, he held out a perfectly peeled piece to you, making you even more confused. “What? You wanted an orange right?" He looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as you smiled at him and took the piece, as he continued peeling the rest of the orange for you and giving you piece by piece. You didn’t even have to ask him for it, which made you smile, thinking to yourself that you had in fact won the orange peel theory

Vil Schoenheit

He had invited you to his room for a self care night between the two of you. Skincare haircare and everything, of course all prepared by him. He can’t have you use the basic drug store products can he?

You sit in front of him, smiling as he carefully applies a cream to your face, his touch lightly tickling you. He scolds you for moving, but you can hear there is a slight smile in his voice.

As he applies the cream you realise it smells like oranges, which reminds you that you and Epel once talked about how Vil would do regarding the orange peel theory. Maybe now was a good time to try it out?

“Viiil…?” You ask in the most innocent voice you can. He doesn’t answer, instead he looks at you and raises one of his perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Do you think…you could peel me an orange?”

“Darling, it is nearly time for bed. I don’t know if an orange now is such a good-” He couldn’t finish his sentence as he saw how you gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

With a sigh he got up and said “Fine, but only if you promise to brush your teeth right after so we can go to bed, I am not sacrificing my 8 hours of sleep just because you want an Orange.” And with that he left for the Pomefiore kitchen.

Giddily you sat on his bed, texting Epel the result of the orange peel theory, poor Epel was so shocked that his housewarden agreed to peel you an orange so short before his sleep time.

Before you could answer anything back to the first year, Vil came back in the room with orange slices on a platter.

The slices were peeled beautifully, and rearranged symmetrical next to each other. Just as you were about to grab the plate, Vil pulled it out of your range and gave you a sly smirk. He picked a slice up and held it to your mouth, obviously alluding that he would feed them to you which made you flustered.

Idia Shroud

You and him were in his room having a gaming session together. Though you needed a short break so you let Idia play alone for a bit.

Sitting on his bed, you sipped some water just silently watching your boyfriend, thinking about your relationship and smiling at the many small things he does for you.

Well small to everyone else, but you knew how much it scares him to do some things, so those ‘small’ gestures meant the world to you.

As you were thinking about small gestures, you remembered the orange theory and thought why not try it on your boyfriend? It wouldn’t prove anything, whether he said yes or no, he proved enough that he would do small things for you, but you wanted to do it for fun.

“Hey Idia?” You called out to him, waiting for a sign from him that he had heard you. Still looking at his screen he gave you an affirmative nod and asked “What’s up?”

“I kinda feel like an orange.” You said, looking at him expectantly to see what he would say next. You could see him stop his movements both in real life and in game which concerned you. “...Idia..?” Pausing the game he slowly turned around and looked at you, a confused look on his face.

“...like…emotionally?” He asked in the most serious and confused tone you could imagine.

You could tell from his face he was sincere when he asked and wasn’t messing with you. For a second you could not believe what he had asked you, it felt surreal. But then you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. You wanted to say something but your laughter stopped you from doing so, instead you fell backwards on his bed, laughter never dying.

Idia now was even more confused, why were you laughing? That's when he realised what you actually meant, and began blushing furiously, his hair now a shade of pink. He wanted to crawl in a hole and die, but…if you really wanted an orange (and promised not to mention it to anyone ever) he would peel you one…

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had invited you to a meeting of the Gargoyle Research society (as if those meetings aren’t just him walking alone through the school). And of yours you agreed.

He was holding your hand as he led you along the school grounds, telling you facts about all the different Gargoyles.

You listened intently, smiling at him and asking him questions every now and then to show him you were interested in what he was telling you, which made him happy and tell you more enthusiastically.

Though at one point you began craving some food, which got you to thinking, how would your boyfriend react to the orange peel theory? You couldn’t imagine him denying you an orange, but you also couldn’t see him peel one? Maybe it was because of his royal status..

“Hey Hornton?” You asked him and he looked into your eyes, his gaze gentle. “Yes, my child of man?” “Do you think you could get me and peel me an orange? I am kinda craving one…”

He looked surprised at first and then began quietly laughing “Fufufu..I already knew you were special, yet here you are proving it once again, asking the future king of Briar Valley to prepare you some food.” He closed his eyes and smiled “Just wait here my dear and I will fetch you what you want”

You smiled at him and nodded, and he teleported away, only leaving his firefly like lights behind.

Sitting down on a bench you waited for him to come teleport in front of you again. But when he was gone for nearly 10 minutes you slightly began to worry…did Lilia somehow end up cooking something once he learned you wanted some food and Malleus wanted to save you from it? Or was-

Just as you were about to keep thinking about it, Malleus appeared back in front of you…With a massive bowl full of orange slices in it. You gawked at the sheer amount, how was one human supposed to eat all of that? “Child of man, I did not know how many you wanted, so I told Sebek to fetch me every Orange he could find, and then peeled them all by myself.” He was so proud of himself, that you couldn’t help but smile but still wondered what to do with that many Oranges…maybe some of the other first years would want them?

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #leona kingscholar x reader

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myjisung · 1 year ago

Text

stray kids : calling them pretty !

content. stray kids ot8, gn!reader, complimenting, idol and non idol!skz, lots of dialog, insecure bangchan, confident hyunjin & seungmin, sillies — fluff.

warning. none

wordcount. 1,6k ( got carried away a little bit )

a/n. sorry, i had brainrot !!

bang chan ( 방찬 )

"you're pretty"

"now you're just being silly."

"i mean it!"

chan looked back at you, unimpressed. his brow looked unamused and so did his mouth. he did not buy it.

"chan i promise you. you're a very pretty guy."

he shook his head and you could feel your heart break to pieces. no matter how many times you complimented him, whatever the words you chose, chan would not believe you.

"that's not a word i'd use to describe myself" he laughed dryly "i mean, have you seen me?"

enough. you got up and walked towards him. that got his attention. chan turned his face away from his computer to look to your side and you grabbed his face with both hands. shocked, his eye grew a little bigger.

"chan" your voice quivered "you have to believe me. you ARE pretty. always have been. it pains me to hear you deny it over and over again." his lower lip trembled "whatever it is that makes you believe you don't deserve to hear that word being uttered about yourself, forget it!"

he swallowed and his eyes watered.

"okay" he said after a while "alright. i-" he sighed, looked somewhere else then closed his eyes "i can't really- i don't-" another sigh "for you, i'll try."

lee know ( 리노 )

this time, after ten minutes spent trying, your facetime call went through.

"well fucking finally minho! why are you-" on your screen, your boyfriend's face appeared. he was getting makeup, a small brush softly highlighting his nose bridge "oh... you're pretty."

minho laughed gently.

"what is it that you want y/n? why'd you even call me seventeen times? can't you tell i'm busy?"

he tried to use that annoyed tone he usually threw your way when you were being clingy. but you could tell he was blushing, something that didn't happen often enough if you had to be honest.

"well damn, calm down with the questions. can't someone want to talk to their pretty boyfriend?"

another laugh, a shy one this time.

"okay, stop that"

"stop what? calling you pretty? well that's what you are. pretty pretty pretty!"

"alright i'm hanging up"

"MINHO NO WAIT."

you had to call him eight more times for him to pick up a second time.

changbin ( 창빈 )

"can you compliment me some more?"

you had just spent the last fifteen minutes telling changbin about how perfect of a man he was. and there he was asking for more? there were only so many compliments in the world. so much so that you had to think about what to say in order to not repeat yourself.

handsome you had used. super witty you went on and on about without forgetting about complimenting his dedication to living a healthy lifestyle and promoting kindness.

but then, it dawned on you. you knew just what to say.

"you're pretty."

changbin furrowed his brows.

"huh?"

"you're pretty" you repeated. "like, you're actually so pretty."

a tentative smile stretched changbin's lips.

"are you sure?" he was shy. changbin brought his hand to the back of his neck and tickled it gently—as if it was the first time anyone ever used the word 'pretty' to describe him.

"i am" you said without hesitation "you are super pretty, changbin. you've got pretty eyes and a pretty nose and pretty lips and pretty cheeks and and and..."

changbin laughed that silly high pitched laugh of his.

"you've got a pretty face overall."

"that's the first time i heard of it." he finally said, too shy to ask for any more compliments.

you mentally took note: in order to shut my changbin up, call him pretty.

hyunjin ( 현진 )

"what did you think the first time you saw me?"

you looked up from your book to lock eyes with his. that came out of nowhere. tilting your head to the side, you furrowed your brows.

"what do you mean?"

"like" hyunjin looked to the left, pondering how to word his question better "what was your first impression? when we first met, what did you think of me?"

"oh." you went back to your book "he's pretty."

hyunjin coughed.

"that's it?"

"did you expect me to think you were hot or cool or whatever? the first time we met you were drenched in soda and asked me for napkins, not very cool nor hot. but you were very pretty, the prettiest man i had ever seen."

a gentle smile stretched his full lips.

"do you mean that or are you being funny?"

you looked at him again, shocked. after marking the page you were at, you closed your book.

"no what do YOU mean? don't play with me hyunjin. you DO know that you're pretty, right?"

he brought his hand to his mouth but, before he could hide it, you saw his slight smirk.

"i mean..." he started.

"oh come on!"

"no like" hyunjin giggled "i'm aware it's just, i didn't think you'd think that of me. pretty? is that really the impression i gave you?"

"well cut me some slack here! you're a crazily pretty man. sometimes i just look at you for fun. for FUN, hyunjin! i am ENTERTAINED, i am having a GREAT TIME looking at your pretty face."

"okay now you don't have to be dramatic about it"

hyunjin was blushing crazily for someone so confident.

han ( 한 )

he was painting his nails and a look of concentration had him furrow his brow and push the tip of his tongue out of his mouth. han wanted to draw stars on each and every single one of his nails and you admired his dedication to the task.

the room smelled of both nail polish and nail polish remover. the coffee table was littered with cotton pads and q-tips drenched in acetone. the smell had your eyes water but you couldn't leave.

han was just so pretty. and you had to tell him.

"hey" you started.

"busy" jisung replied "can't mess up again."

you heard him but, it had to be said.

"you're so pretty right now."

it took him a while, maybe three or five seconds before the words registered. once he pieced it together, he looked up at you.

"huh?"

"i said, you're pretty"

"no i heard you" he started "it's just... really?"

han kept his brush above his fingers so long a droplet of pink polish splashed on his nail, ruining the design, but you didn't have the heart to point it out yet.

"yeah? you're a very pretty guy, jisung. like, your eyes for starters, insanely pretty"

he gave you a shy smile as his cheeks turned pink. you could tell he was trying to tone down his reaction from the way his leg started bouncing.

"no... you're the pretty one." he finally said.

jisung looked down at his nail and shrieked. he was going to have start over, AGAIN.

felix ( 필릭스 )

"you're so pretty"

you weren't expecting to say that out loud but could anyone even blame you? the sun was hitting felix's face in a way that enhanced his freckles along with the gold of his skin. his long eyelashes tickled the skin under his eyes and the bitten red of his mouth made him look ethereal.

felix was, objectively, a very pretty boy.

his eyes fluttered open and your cheeks blushed pink. felix noticed and a playful smile stretched his mouth.

"d'you mean that?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

you weren't exactly boyfriend and partner yet. you weren't anything really. something in between, something blurry but neither of you dared saying or doing anything about it. you were content with this in-between, for now.

"i do" you started and he brought a hand to your cheek, letting his thumb gently stroke your skin "you're very pretty, felix"

his smile got bigger.

"thanks" he said "you're super pretty yourself."

you swore your heart leapt out of your chest.

seungmin ( 승민 )

"has anyone told you that you were pretty before?"

"plenty of times actually, y/n."

seungmin smiled playfully and you watched him, deadpan.

"i mean," he started "i get it. don't you?"

he giggled and you could only scoff. can't someone compliment their boyfriend and have him react normally in this economy?

"alright mister pretty boy. i guess you've heard it so much it got to your head."

another laugh, a bright one this time and you could not contain your own smile anymore. seungmin had this way of brightening every room he walked in. he always managed to have you in the best mood and make you forget all of your worries.

"oh no y/n... i beg, compliment me again. i only care when it's you that calls me pretty."

it was your turn to act. pretending to be unimpressed, you looked away.

"well. i better be!"

seungmin giggled again. and so did you.

i.n ( 아이엔 )

shopping with jeongin always took hours. you were used to it at this point, but still. your feet were killing you and you had spent far more money than you had planned to.

your boyfriend had a way with compliments afterall. whatever you tried on, he loved and managed to make you love too so, purchased they were!

"how about this one?"

the fitting room's curtain quickly opened and you were met with yet another huge-pair-of-pants-and-oversized-shirt outfit. it was crazy the way jeongin managed to make them work every time.

"pretty" you said "you're pretty."

he smiled and his eyes crinkled.

"pretty?"

"mh mh" you nodded "you look super pretty. you always do but especially right now. crazily pretty, insanely pretty, gorgeously pretty. extremely pretty even. have you considered-"

jeongin cut you off, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. he giggled against your mouth as you kissed back, sending happy shivers down your back.

"okay i think i get it." he said "you're perfectly pretty too"

with that, the curtain closed again.

taglist. after being absent for a long while, i'll make a new taglist instead of using the old one so let me know if you would like to be added / removed.

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skzthelomlhehe · 22 days ago

Text

Telling Lee Know you want a baby~

Welcome to my brainrot part two Lolol the picture of lee know holding that child is making me fucking flip cuz BRO LOOK AT THAT BAYBEEEEEEEEEEEEE TWO BAYBEEES IN A FRAASAMMMMMEEEEE AND THE WAY HE LOOKS AT THE CHILD AAAAAAAAA (Do ignore my over excitement I'm in need of serotonin)

Anyways yeah that's that lol enjoy the little shitpost lmao

Warning: none that much, unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, creampies, biting, oral (F recieving)

{apologies if I missed anything}

Genre: smut, fluff, established relationships // MDNI

Masterlist Total masterlist Tag Reqs:@arestoucries

Minho had finally come home from his practice. He was gone by 6 in the morning and by the time he came home it was already 7.

You were bored the entire time since it was your day off so you decided to indulge yourself in some silly magazines you bought on a whim.

Minho walked in to your room to see you lying on your belly, giggling and kicking your feet like a little girl. Squealing even.

You hadn't noticed him until you heard him set his bag down on the desk. You turned to look at him, your face stretched into an ear to ear grin.

Minho knew better than anyone that the look you had meant no well. He sighed, "what now?" You giggled again, scurrying to him with your magazine.

"baby look! A baby!" You squealed, holding the open magazine on his face showing pictures of babies. "Y-yeah I see that please put that down." He pulled down the magazing away from his face. "What about it?"

"gimme one!!" You demanded, that silly grin never leaving your face, a squeak following your demand. (This is very self indulgent cuz that's me rn) "A what??" He yelled. "Ah shh!! Calm down!" You shushed him.

"Ok ok- kitten- calm down-" (I can just imagine him going "aigoo koyangi calm down" or whatever Lolol) he gripped on to your shoulders, looking at you with serious eyes, "do you even know what you're saying??" You nodded excitedly in response, "I do!"

You flung the magazine to god knows where and wrapped your arms around his neck, "Come on babbyyyy~ we've been married for over a year now and I want you to shoot the good stuff inside me toooo~" you pouted. (Very self indulgent 💀)

He sighed again, gently placing his hands on your waist, "are you sure about this?" His voice in a concerned whisper. "Mhm! Don't act like you won't take this chance to absolutely ravage me in like two minutes, darling." You smiled.

Minho burst out laughing knowing damn well you were right and there's no way he could argue with that.

Feeling defeated, he sighed before chuckling and pulling you up in his arms. You squealed, wrapping your arms and legs around him and giggling. He held on to your butt, giving you a soft kiss as he walked you to the bed. (I have a thing for carrying to the bed idfk why)

He let both of you fall on the bed, his wet kisses trailing down your neck making you gasp. Oh how you loved the way his teeth grazed on your sensitive skin.

He unbuttoned your shirt, his lips gliding down your chest before attaching itself to your nipple. You whimpered, goosebumps running through your body.

He bit and sucked while fondling with the other. Your hands found his head, your fingers threading in his hair. You giggle feeling a bit ticklish, "seems like you're very ready for a little one~ you yourself are like a baby, Minho~" you mumbled.

He chuckled, his lips still on your breast making you feel ticklish all over again.

He went down again, kisses followed until he reached your belly. He dug his face on the plush flesh and blowed making you laugh. He really loved doing it for some reason. "What're you doooiiinnngg~" you whined. (Man am I tweaking in public rn I just imagined it gah darn)

His hands glided down to your hips, pulling your pajama pants down. You whimpered as you felt a gush of cold air on your bared lower half. It didn't take long for that cold to soon burn in pleasure.

Minho got down between your legs, staring at your dripping wet pussy like it was a work of art. Shyness overcame you, hiding your face in your hands.

You moaned as you felt his tongue sloppily licked your labia. Suckling at your swollen clit. He let himself savour every bit of your throbbing cunt.

Held on to his head, pushing him deeper knowing he enjoyed when you did so. He groaned as he ate you up. His tongue penetrating your hole. You shuddered under his touch. His beastly mouth that ravished you like you were his last meal.

His fingers made their way inside you while his mouth was busy sucking your slutty clit. You whined and moaned. Your eyes shut, back arched and your head thrown back.

He hooked his free hand under your thigh, grabbing you steady from squirming away. Your cunt throbbed more than ever, "a-aahh Minho... Im... Im cumming...!" You whined.

He shoved his tongue in deeper, as deep as he could. His fingers followed. Both his digits and his tongue messing you up.

With one loud moan you let loose on his face. Flinching and trembling from the stimulation. It's been a while since you guys fucked and your fingers barely held up.

He got up, his chin dripping in your fluids. He smirked, wiping his face with his thumb and licking it up in the sexiest way a man ever could. You bit your lip, a shiver ran down your spine. How you loved this man so much.

He took his shirt off with one swift motion and before you knew it, his pants dropped to the floor. He kissed you, both of your bodies stuck to each other. He positioned himself on your entrace, rubbing his tip on your labia.

"I'm gonna ask you again... Are you sure about this?" He mumbled. You smiled, loving how considerate he was. He might not show it, but you once saw him looking at baby pictures and smiling to himself, his eyes glistening like never before. Another time you overheard his call with his friends and how he wanted a little baby girl.

You placed your hand gently on his face, cupping his soft cheeks, "of course I'm sure, love... It's gonna be our little one after all..." You giggled. Having gotten your approval, with one rough push he shoved himself in making you yelp. Your arms wrapped around him, nails digging on his skin as he thrusted inside you like there's no tomorrow.

He groaned from how tight you were. He kissed you again, his arms holding you in a tight warm embrace. You moaned and whimpered underneath him, feeling every touch, every thrust, every breath and every groan a bit too much.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, how happy he was to have you, how much he loved you. This was the third time you've seen him this expressive. The first one was when you confessed to him, second one when you said yes to his proposal and now this.

And honestly... You couldn't be happier. The thought of carrying this man's child in your womb made your heart swell in pure joy.

Every thrust was rough yet loving in its own manner. (My ears are legit burning as I write this.) You told him you loved him back if not more. How lucky you were to be his wife.

He chuckled, "you're so beautiful... So sweet... So lovable... Im the lucky one..." He mumbled. He wasn't the type to be overly expressive with his words of affection. But when he was... He was out for your heart with how sweet he was. And hearing loving things from someone who feels awkward saying his feelings out loud just made things many many times better.

A few more thrusts in, he was already close. Usually he can go even longer but today... Today he was way more giddy... More lovey... And it was contagious. You felt your second coming closer too. Also because you already came once and were even more sensitive.

Few more sloppy wet thrusts in, he let loose. Shoving his cock in deeper inside your pussy to make sure every drop of his cum reached you to impregnate you. And you couldn't be happier.

You moaned out loud, letting yourself go as well. Both of you panting from the after effects.

The room filled with sounds of shaky breaths, pounding hearts and loving words in soft whispers.

He flopped down on the bed right beside you, still holding you close. His cock still inside you, "can't having all that milk go to waste now, can I kitten?" He said. You giggled, getting on top of him, "round two?" You asked. He sighed, "do I even have a choice here?"

You shook your head like a child, "nuh uh!"

Fin~

Sorry this if this wasn't as good as expected 😭 I was in a huge rush while writing this so I couldn't make it as good but hope you guys still liked it! Anyways I'm gonna go work now bye lmao~

#skz hard thoughts #skz imagines #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #lee know smut #skz #lee know skz #lee know #lee know stray kids #skz x y/n #skz x reader #lee know x reader

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lalunanymph · 6 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 — sylus

୨୧ meeting him meant the end of your innocence and ignorance

✧.* warnings: suggestive, hunter/prey dynamic, sylus has issues™, mentions of death, mentions of blood, making out, finger sucking, just sylus being a tease

✧.* this my chemical romance edgelord looking ass evil man has got me by the cl!t </3 i cant stop the sylus brainrot help

The sole of your mud-splattered boot splashes into a puddle of filthy water, soaking the hem of your Hunters’ pants.

Hot breaths spill from your parted lips, and you glance back, full of panic, trying and failing to catch the barest hint of a shadowy figure spilling closer towards you.

Nothing.

But, that doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods yet.

Doubling your speed, you tighten your grip on your gun, feeling the hard handle slipping between your clammy hands.

“Damn it,” cursing under your breath, you make a sharp turn, and find yourself face-to-face with a wall. Using your Resonance, you feel for the potential threat, breaths rising and falling sharply as your watch beeps your coordinates back to your anxious teammates.

The second your whereabouts were exposed, you feared what the repercussions would be for allowing yourself to be drawn into such a risky mission.

Captain Jenna has already warned you not once but twice for going after Onychinus on your own.

Defying her once again, you fear it would be the last time you would ever hear her sharp words or firm tone.

A crunch of leaves overhead startles you, and you swivel with your gun raised, eyes darting everywhere in the vicinity. The smell of rubbish burns through your nose, and coupled with the sharp sting of your sweat, it nearly makes you sick with nausea.

Panic infuses through you, rendering you mute and unable to move when you hear a slow, dark chuckle emanating from the shadows.

He appears, dressed in all black, strands of silvery hair falling right into his deep eyes; your worst nightmare coming to life.

“There you are,” he seems to purr, deep baritone dragging through each syllable; hammering in how defenseless and trapped you were. “I never thought I’d ever see a day when a Hunter finally becomes the hunted.”

Sylus—head of Onychinus—approaches you with a slow smile spreading across his striking face. His tall stature and fitted clothes, in every shade of black you can imagine, is exacerbated by the crow perched right on his shoulder, its blood-red pupils widening at the scent of your fear. Despite the dangerous aura surrounding him, he could easily pass as a gentleman walking down the streets of Linkon City—eccentric and grinning.

“You’ll never get away with this.”

Your words, meant to be a threat, only serves to amuse him further.

“Oh? Isn’t that what every good guy says?” Approaching you closer, he doesn’t pay any mind to the nozzle of your gun digging right into his chest. He knows you can’t shoot him; you still need your answers. “And then, inevitably, they all turn out to be wrong.”

A flash of red. Your arm seizes and goes limp, the gun in your hands tumbling to the ground; pained cries reverberating across the alleyway. The crow on his shoulder caws, flapping its wings in excitement.

He grabs your face, digging his nails into the fat of your cheeks. “Pretty little hunter,” Sylus coos again, and this time, pushes you to your feet, controlling your movements with his Evol so you have no choice but to be the puppet at the end of his strings.

Your legs spread without your consent, and your back meets the wall.

Sylus watches, those sharp eyes ever mysterious and waiting. He doesn’t lunge or immediately savor your helplessness; letting you stew in your panic and loss of control.

“Wh-wait,” you splutter. “Don’t do this—”

“Is this not what you were hungering for, my little hunter?” As he speaks, he advances towards you, every heavy footfall spiking fear in your chest. “You knew what you were getting yourself into when you tried to pursue me. So,” he stops in front of you, bending down close enough for his breath to touch your cheek. “Why the hesitation now?”

“How do you know about my heart condition?” you demand, referring to the encrypted video he sent you a few days ago meant to lure you out into the open. “No one else knows that besides my grandmother.”

Sylus arches one dark brow, cocking his head to the side to truly study the mutiny on your face.

“And how are you so sure your grandmother was the only one with such classified information?”

This asshole. He was never going to give you a straight answer. You had walked right into his trap.

Trying to move your limbs was futile. You were fully under his mercy.

The stench of your entire situation grows harder to ignore. You replay every single moment which led you right in this situation.

A shady video sent straight to your Hunter’s Watch. The dark background and the modulated voice whispering how you can get your answers if you meet him right at the docks at exactly one in the morning. Ignoring Xavier’s concern and Jenna’s suggestion for you to take a partner. Nero, who usually supported your crazy ideas, was for once hesitant when he inspected the video. They never expected you to take this on by yourself—for you to act this recklessly.

And tonight, you would die without any of them knowing the truth.

You want to shout, to tell the entire world that the leader of Onychinus is right in front of you. But, you cannot find your voice.

Sylus is close enough for the sharpness of his cologne to fill your nostrils. You can barely move your hand to press the alert button on your watch; your movements are restricted by this dangerous Evol you don’t think you’ve ever encountered.

“Tell me, why do you seek such answers when you do not know the magnitude of their implications?”

His voice is saccharine sweet, condescending to a fault.

Scoffing, you turn your face away, unable to look him in the eyes long enough.

“I guess… I want to know why my grandmother and Caleb had to die.”

The admission feels like a punch to your gut. To anyone else, your voice remains steady and firm. But, it took a special sort of psychopath to hear the tremble at the tailend of your sentence and yet, choose to laugh.

“Ah. Yes. I can answer that one for you—Onychinus did not cause the death of your grandmother and friend.” Nothing about tonight’s encounter could prepare you for what he has to say next.

“You might want to look a little closer to home.”

Closer to… home?

The confusion in your eyes is his aphrodisiac, and his nostrils flare; getting off on your distress.

“The Hunters,” he clarifies; tone like a teacher speaking down to a toddler. “Don’t you think it strange that they never investigated what happened to your family? Or, did a postmortem on your grandmother’s remains?”

He’s speaking circles around you, intentionally messing with your mind.

And yet, a seed of doubt begins to take root. You have to physically clench down on your fists to stop from lashing out at him; Jenna’s sympathetic expression, the doctors who told you that there was no feasible way they could glean what happened to your grandmother and Caleb without at least 85% of the body intact.

An accident. An anomaly. That was how they classified your family’s demise.

You weren’t even allowed to have a closed coffin funeral for them.

His thumbs touch your cheek, swiping the tears away in a gesture far too intimate for a man who was meeting you for the first time tonight.

“Ever since I first saw you, you’ve done nothing but invade my thoughts.”

Your back melts off the wall and meets the ground, his entire weight pressed on top of you. He has you right under him with nowhere to go, and you can’t even call for help, those long, elegant fingers sliding right into your mouth, forcing you to suck on them.

“My pretty little stubborn Hunter,” he whispers.

You know the look in his eye; the one men would get when they’re crossing the threshold of claiming the object they’ve been seeking for years. It’s the same look in Xavier’s eyes whenever you accidentally graze his thigh, or how Zayne’s expression visibly darkens when you call him ‘doctor’. It’s the same look Rafayel gives you when you say you want nothing more than to be by his side forever.

Desire.

And fear.

Sylus swallows hard, and you’re surprised to find his touch faltering. Those magnetically dark eyes could engulf you whole, growing closer and closer until you’re forced to close your own eyes; his lips the first spark that sets your entire world ablaze.

Devouring you like you were oxygen in a deprived world, Sylus kisses are brutal and hard, nipping at your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth so you have no choice but to choke on your own spit. A dark shadow flits overhead, its caws filling the night air with rampant euphoria.

He is too forward… this is going much too fast…

“Do you not like it when intentions are made known to you?” He tugs at your bottom lip, smirking at your faltering expression when you realize you’ve spoken those words aloud.

You struggle against him, trying to turn your face away, but Sylus will not relent his grip on your cheeks.

“Why?” you gasp. “Why are you treating me like this when we both are on different sides?” Struggling to push him away, you’re overtaken once again by his mouth moving down your jaw, caressing your pulse point and traversing down the column of your throat. Kisses which feel more like a possessive mark.

“Who said we were any different?” He murmurs, and you have no choice but to voice out your disbelief.

“I’m a Hunter. You’re an illegal weapons seller. My job is to stop you—oh.”

He kneads your hip roughly with one hand, expression open with want. You can’t formulate a single coherent thought, your vision purely dominated by the halo of his silver hair and those deep, impenetrable dark eyes.

“No,” his deep voice intones, sending shivers up your spine. “You have no idea. We are more similar than you think.”

Holding secrets you weren’t aware of, Sylus didn’t know where to start; how to make you believe him.

So, he settles for pinning you against the ground, your wrists held above your head and your body trapped under his bigger build.

“Heed my words, little Hunter,” he whispers, and there’s a look in his eye, an unfathomable emotion you wanted to unravel but it was gone the second you dared to look closer. “Do not trust what you think is the truth.”

Before your eyes, he dissipates to smoke, small flecks of blood landing on your cheeks and parted mouth. His raven caterwauls, inducing goosebumps across your entire body as it spirals into the night sky, disappearing from view.

You turn onto your hands and knees, spitting out the blood, wiping it off your cheeks with frantic swipes.

Someone calls your name, and you don’t realize how badly you’re shivering until a warm embrace engulfs you.

“Oh, Y/N,” Xavier exhales, bringing you closer to the streetlamp light so he can scrutinize your face. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Thumbing the blood from your face, you nod, murmuring, “This isn’t mine.”

Xavier opens his mouth, about to ask you what exactly happened when your Hunter Watch went off the grid when Jenna pushes through the alley, her gun at the ready, mouth set into a grim line.

“Y/N. You’re safe.”

Accepting Xavier’s outstretched hand, you stood up with his help. Jenna shines a flashlight on your face, momentarily blinding you.

“Is that your blood?” she demands, sounding like she was a second away from giving you the lecture of a lifetime.

You grimace, and Xavier tightens his grip around your waist.

“Captain, we should take her back for an inspection—”

“Agreed,” Jenna cuts him off, then narrows her eyes as she leans closer. “Is that… a mark on your neck? And your lips—they’re quite swollen.”

Slapping a hand to your mouth, you shake your head, hoping your wide, pleading eyes will get them to drop this. Next to you, Xavier stiffens, those blue eyes going glacial as he sweeps them all over your disheveled frame. It’s unavoidable that he comes to such assumptions based on your appearance.

But, rather than lashing out in jealousy, he reels it in, choosing to steer you back towards safety.

“Whatever happened, you can tell us later. We need to get you checked up.”

His grip digs into your skin, and you don’t know what to say once the inevitable interrogation comes up.

How could you divulge all that Sylus had said without putting Xavier in a predicament between trusting you or being loyal to an organization he serves well?

If what the Onychinus leader said was true, you couldn’t trust Captain Jenna either.

And Tara…

Everything dear in your world begins to blur, infecting the foundations of your love for the people you trust; making them crack and crumble.

Xavier, Jenna, Tara, Nero… did they all know what happened to your family but refused to tell you the truth?

You had no idea how to react; you couldn’t wrap your head around such a betrayal if the truth were to come to light.

You think you could probably destroy the entire Organization with your bare hands if what Sylus said was true.

Abovehead, somewhere in the trees, a raven caws—a harbinger of worse things to come.

a/n. save me emo edgelord crow boy save me .... reblogs and feedback are appreciated !!

#🦢 writes #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #sylus smut #love and deepspace #qin che x reader #otome romance #otome x reader

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 year ago

Text

helping hand.

ln x fem!reader

in which you’re getting ready for a date and lando knows it’s a waste of time

back with more lando brainrot :D obsessed with best friend!lando atm, on a bit of a roll with the writing so send me your ideas! lemme know what you think! 🫶

songs to set the mood: kiss me more by doja cat, moth to a flame by the weeknd, i think by tyler, the creator, all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! porn with plot, smut, fluff, angst if you squint? choking, biting like once, best friend!lando

2.9k words

a key turning in the lock made you jump, groaning when you realised who it was. lando had been home for a few days now, it was about time he showed up. he’d had a key since you moved in.

you know, for emergencies.

he’d already called you a few times that day, and you’d let it ring out each time. talking to lando while you were supposed to be getting ready for a date was never a good idea. it would be end up being his face you’d imagine sipping wine on the other side of the table, his face you’d picture when you fell messily into bed while someone else’s hands roamed your body, his face you would hope to see when your eyes fluttered open the next morning.

so, yeah. answering the phone was a recipe for disaster.

you scurried across the floor in the heels you were trying to break in, scavenging for your robe to cover your bare skin. by the time the door swung open, you’d managed to disappear into your bedroom, bare skin somewhat covered.

“why don’t you answer your phone?” you heard lando whinging down the hallway.

“i’m getting ready to go out, didn’t see your call.” you called back. it was a blatant lie but he didn’t need to know that.

“oooh, girls night out?” you could hear his footsteps getting closer and then he appeared in the doorway.

he looked cosy, bundled up in a thick jacket layered over a hoodie. a beanie covered most of his curls, a few hanging loose over his eyes. the cold weather had left him flushed, rubbing his hands together for warmth. you, on the other hand, were wearing much less, a silky robe covering soft pink lingerie. your makeup was half done, an outfit strewn together on your bed.

“nope. got a date.” you replied, grabbing your eyeshadow brush. you tried not to look at him too much, otherwise you’d never get out the door.

you couldn’t see the way he was looking at you, eyes half bulging out of his head. this was too much skin, too much much everything, the lingerie that was covering not a lot telling him information that made his stomach twist. he pulled it together, clearing his throat.

“not that finance guy again, surely.” lando teased, shedding his coat and hat at the end of your bed. your sigh confirmed that, yes, it was that finance guy again.

“i’m just trying to see where it goes. he’s not that bad.” you reasoned, dropping the brush back onto your vanity. your eyelids were shimmering under the light, but all you could focus on was the image of your best friend sprawled out on your bed, watching you watch him.

“trust me, sweetie, he seems it.” lando quipped, sarcastic sympathy spilling from his quirked up lips. “so are you going out like that?” he laughed, eyeing your half dressed body. in all your years of friendship, he’d seen a lot more of you, and that’s why you hadn’t kicked him out screaming, or shied away. you ignored the sick and twisted feeling that you wanted* him to see you like this

“no,” you drew the word out, slow, as if you were making fun of him. “actually, you’re laying all over my outfit.” you raised an eyebrow, still holding eye contact with him through the mirror.

“damn,” he breathed through his teeth. “someones tryna get laid.” lando picked up the sheer top in one hand, the mini skirt in the other, a knowing look on his smug, beautiful, evil face.

“shut up!” you threw an eye pencil at him, but he ducked successfully. “listen, some of us have needs, okay? we can’t all be super famous formula 1 drivers.”

“well, i’m just saying. you don’t need to waste your time on stock bro steve if all you need is a shag.” lando was smirking now, and you were blushing redder than a ferrari.

“be quiet, you.” you scoffed.

you tried to shake off his words, but you couldn’t quite help the way your thighs clenched at what he was implying.

“i mean it. you have other options.” lando was sat up now, resting against your headboard, intently watching the way you were fumbling through your makeup bag.

“if i had other options, lando, i would have explored them by now. trust me.” you sounded frustrated, and lando was beyond intrigued.

“that bad, huh? how longs it been?” he was looking at you intently, craving an answer. the dim lighting couldn’t disguise the blush on your face and he was loving it.

“piss off.” you mumbled.

“you can tell me, sweetie. i don’t bite. unless you’re into that.”

another eyebrow pencil went flying in his direction.

“fuck you.”

“is that what you wanna do? i don’t have anywhere to be.” he was killing himself laughing at you, watching you squirm.

“a couple months.” you muttered.

“oh, honey.” lando cooed.

“why do you even care about this?” you whined, shaky hands fighting to unscrew your mascara.

“because i don’t like the idea of that dickhead touching you.” he said it so nonchalantly, as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

“lando-“

“am i reading this wrong? because something tells me that he’s not the one you want touching you.”

you watched, bewildered, as he pushed himself off your mattress, stalking towards you. he shrugged his hoodie off, adding it to his pile of garments at the end of the bed.

“what are you doing?” you questioned, dropping the mascara onto the table, sitting up straighter in anticipation.

“tell me now that it’s him you want.” he was getting closer and closer.

“i- i dont-“

“c’mon, sweetheart, tell me, and i’ll let you get ready in peace.”

he was right behind you now, body heat radiating against your back, goose bumps littering your bare shoulder where your robe had slipped.

“i don’t want him.” you whispered.

“who do you want? did you miss me as much as i missed you?”

“i always miss you.” you whispered.

“and yet, you’re getting ready for another man to fuck you, honey, when i’m right here.”

“what do you- lando, what are you doing?” you rambled, hands flat on your vanity, as if you were trying to ground yourself. you were shaking.

“helping you. is that okay, honey? do you want me to help you?” he spoke so softly, you could feel your legs quivering.

“yes.” you breathed and the way his eyes darkened made your thighs clench even harder.

lando leaned over you, until his head rested in the crook of your neck, hands finding your waist. he pulled you up from your stool, kicking it along the floor so that nothing separated you. you were flush against him, his nose nuzzling against your cheek. and then he was kissing your skin, your neck exposed to his assault. he trailed his lips over the taut flesh, teeth scraping that spot just below your ear.

all you could do was stare, disbelief in your eyes as you watched him touch you, hands pulling your hips into his. you’d wondered, now and then, if this would ever happen, and now here you were, falling into his touch like it was made to be all over your body.

lando turned you around, dropping you on the vanity. he crouched down in front you, pulling your ankle into his hands. nimble fingers worked over the clasp, fiddling with the buckle while he kissed over the sensitive skin of your thighs. one shoe dropped to the floor, and he made quick work of the other, lips trailing further and further up your legs. the bastard had the nerve to keep eye contact the entire time, and you keened at his touch, jolting when he moved under the hem of your robe.

lando pulled away, despite your groan of protest. he tugged you off the dresser, spinning you back to face the mirror, one of his hands slipping down your legs and finding your knee, picking you up and planting it on the dresser. you were spread out for him, now, sprawled out in front of the mirror.

“let’s get this off, yeah?” he whispered, hands smoothing over the silky material of your robe. it slipped off easily, one tug at the tie and it was on the floor, leaving you clad in your set. “all for me, right?”

“do something.” you gasped out, one of your hands thrown back to thread through his curls.

“all for me, right?” he repeated, biting down on your neck.

“yes, god, please.” you whimpered, needier for him than the guy you’d spent all afternoon getting ready for, yet you couldn’t spare him a thought when lando was toying with you like this.

“‘m gonna fuck you like this, make you watch so that you learn your lesson.”

“what lesson?” you choked out.

“that i’m the only one that can satisfy you like this.” he mumbled, so matter of fact.

“prove it.”

he liked the challenge, it seemed, because his hand was inside your panties before you could breathe. you could see his fingers working over you, the skimpy lace doing nothing to hide his movements. you arched into him the second he found your clit, your fingers tightening in his hair. your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure eating away at you and your ability to control yourself.

“eyes open.”

you tried your hardest, but it was near impossible when he was working over your pussy like he’d done it a million times, like he already knew the ins and outs of your body, what made you tick. you cried out when he slipped a finger in you, the action simultaneous with his free hand finding a home at the base of your throat.

“no wonder you can’t find someone to get you off, no one’s ever fucked some manners into you.” he growled into your ear, and your eyes shot open. his grip tightened, a second finger sliding through your wetness. “you’re gonna listen to me from now on, baby, or you get nothing.”

“‘m trying.” you breathed, slurring your words already. if only you’d done this sooner.

“not hard enough, clearly.” he was grinding his fingers in harder, deeper, palm flat against your clit. you were panting out moans, heart beating so hard you could hear it in your ears, and now that you’d obeyed, eyes as wide as they could be, you couldn’t take them off his. he looked so smug, so pretty as he had his way with you, and you loved it, the way he was watching you sending an extra shot of heat to the pleasure pooling in your belly.

“is this what you needed, honey? do you think he could have done better? bet he couldn’t even make you come.” lando spat, fucking you even faster somehow. you felt drunk.

“no, lando. you’re so good.” you whined, pushing your ass back into him again.

you could feel how hard he was, taken aback at how filthy he was being, how dominant he was. you never could have imagined this, and honestly, you’d tried.

“you gonna come for me, sweetie? i can feel how bad you want it.” lando coaxed your orgasm out of you, your soft tummy tightening as you clamped down on his fingers. his thumb found your clit, circles left on the glistening flesh and all you could do was pray the hand wrapped around your neck would keep you upright.

one last flick of the wrist had you screaming, gushing all over his fingers. you could feel yourself dripping, your slick painting your inner thighs as you came, and he helped your through it. slow strokes brought you down from your high, and you slumped backwards into his arms.

“i’m not done yet.” he groaned, fingers dragged out of your panties and into his mouth. you watched the way his tongue licked over the digits, stomach fluttering at the sinful sight.

“good.” you replied, reaching behind you to search for the button of his jeans. he laughed lowly, batting your hands away.

“i’ll do the work, you deserve it.” his hand cupped your cheek, turning your head so that you were facing him, your body still facing the mirror.

you looked between his eyes and his lips, and he did the same, taking in your tired features, the lazy smile on your lips. you wanted him to kiss you, wanted to see if that drove you as crazy as everything else he’d done. you were quickly proved right. he slotted his lips over yours, your nose bumping his. a quiet moan sounded from the back of his throat and you shivered, deepening the kiss. his tongue moved with yours deliciously, sweet mint lingering in his mouth.

“need you.” you muttered against his lips, your words swallowed by the lingering kiss. he hummed in agreement, prying himself away from your swollen lips, his lack of self control making it harder than necessary. the faint trace of his lips made you delirious, and you feared you’d always crave more now that you’d had a taste.

“i’ve got you, honey. hands flat for me.”

you positioned yourself how he wanted, your palms flat against the vanity. he pushed your knee across the surface, makeup that you couldn’t care less about clattering to the ground. one of his hands snaked around your body, toying with the lace of your bra as he grabbed a handful of your breast. you watched the way his strong grip held you in place, breathing shakily when his free hand dipped between your thighs. you could see how wet you were when he tugged the flimsy lace aside, cupping your cunt one last time to spread your wetness around.

you heard the zip of his jeans, the rustle of clothing, your eyes rolling back as he kissed behind your ear. he slid into your slowly, feeling every part of him as he went deeper and deeper. the stretch made your tear up, the way he was filling you up scratching a itch that you hadn’t been able to satisfy in far too long.

“oh.” you gasped, clenching around him. he hissed at the sensation, grip tightening on your chest.

“that is the tightest fucking thing.” he moaned, thick neck on display as he bottomed out. “no one’s fucked you properly, have they, baby?”

“need it, lando.” you tried to push your hips back, tried to feel him even deeper somehow, but he held you down.

he moved slow, feeling you out, looking for a rhythm. you couldn’t breathe, watching the way he could barely keep his eyes open. you were obsessed, never so thankful for him barging into your apartment uninvited.

as fucking good as it felt, you needed more, just a bit more, desperate to not be able to walk after. you grabbed his hand, guiding it up your body, meeting his eyes in the mirror as you placed it at the base of your throat. a look was exchanged, one of pleading, and trust, and maybe even a little bit of something else, and everything in him changed.

your back collided with his front, the pressure on your neck and the power of his thrust making you dizzy. the pace was rapid, hips hitting yours with a point to prove. you mouth hung open, unable to take your eyes off the way his body rolled against yours. this was addictive, so far clear of any sex you’d ever had, maybe even of any you’d have again.

“so good for me. not gonna be able to forget those pretty eyes watching me.” he slurred, breathing heavily into your ear.

you nodded frantically, begs for more, please, more tumbling from your lips.

“no more dates. no more of these little boys trying to get you off. it’s gonna be me from now on.”

“better be.” you choked out, your head falling into the crook of his neck.

“that’s right, baby. gonna watch me make you come?” he crooned into your ear.

and you did, eyes locked with his once again as he finished you off. you were slick with sweat, trying to catch your breath.

“good?” he pressed a kiss to your hairline, slowly untangling himself from you.

“very.”

“let’s get you cleaned up, honey.”

lando helped you off the vanity, carrying you back over to your bed and placing you on the end. you watched him look around for some clothes, but you stole his hoodie, the one he’d left on the end of the bed. his scent surrounded you as you slipped it over your head, spicy and sweet.

you heard your phone buzzing, reaching around for it blindly but lando got to it first. the shit eating grin he wore made you sweat, eyes widening in horror when it dawned on you.

“stock market steve’s wondering where you are. think i should set him straight.” he teased.

“lando, don’t-“ you couldn’t even stop him, your body aching too much.

“hello?” lando sing songed down the line and you hid your face in your hands. “as much as i just know she’d love to hear you talk about how many watches you have and then finish in six seconds, she’s occupied.” and with that, he put the phone down.

“you are so lucky i can’t walk right now.” you threatened, flopping back onto your bed. he was quickly hovering over you, resting above you on his forearms.

“care to make it worse?” he grinned mischievously, and you knew that you were well and truly done for, ruined for anybody else.

“do your best.”

lord knows, he did.

hehe

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