#finally got round to it just in time for the prompt

[daisiescomelate]

Collision

Prompt: Unfortunately, Sylus decided to drop by your apartment for a surprise visit the same day Zayne agreed to stay the night.

Content: Zayne&Reader, Sylus&Reader. no proofread sorry.

masterlist

Credits rolled on the screen and you cheered with a round of applause. Zayne followed your lead with his usual lack of intention to show enthusiasm and a stoic face. As the black screen led to a final musical number with all the crew in colorful outfits, you stretched your arms over your head and rolled your neck to get rid of the stiffness of laying on the floor for so long.

The lights were down and the cortines closed to add to the atmosphere. You sang to the tune, following the choreography you knew by heart with exaggerated passion, pushing Zayne’s arm to encourage him to join you. He didn’t, of course. Instead, he straightened his crossed legs and stood with his socks over the sheets and cushions you had thrown over the carpet to get yet another extra layer between you and the cold tile.

You held a high note holding an invisible microphone to your face, throwing your head back and striking a pose. You then motion to Zayne to take the spotlight for the next line.

“C’mon, Zayne! I know you’re a good singer!” You teased him.

“I prefer to keep my talents to myself.” Mr. Too Cool To Party pated over his dress pants to shape them back into their ironed form. “And lower your volume, you’ll get complaints from the neighbors.”

You didn’t let his attitude kill your mood –but you did quiet down a little bit, just in case.

“What time is it?” You asked as the music died down and the screen faded back to black. The sudden pain and tingly sensation that took over when you moved your leg warned you not to try to get on your feet just yet.

Zayne fixed up the sleeves of his shirt, pulling them back down and buttoning them up. He flicked his wrist so he could see his watch properly, then walked to the closest window and pulled the heavy clothes just a small fraction out of the way with one finger. The sky was a dark mass sprinkled with silver dust. The city lights painted reds, whites and yellows as far as the eye could see.

“Twenty minutes ‘till two.” Said Zayne, letting his finger drop and covering the view back down again. And moving to the stitch on the wall to turn on the lights of the living room.

You blinked.

“Wow.” Almost two in the morning?

You invited Zayne over for a movie marathon. It was a plan you had been postponing for a few weeks since his schedule was often messy and unpredictable. You guessed maybe now that you had finally been able to do it you got a little bit over excited and ‘Just one more movie’ turned into this.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was this late.” You scratched your neck and felt a tweak of guilt in your chest.

“It’s okay. Tomorrow is my day off. Well… today.” You winced. Zayne rarely had a good night of sleep pulling so many extra hours at work. To top it off, you picked him up from the hospital that afternoon after a long shift and he was too stubborn to take a nap. You didn’t even want to think how long he had been awake by now. He was certainly in no condition to drive.

“Do you want to stay the night?”

The question seemed to have taken him off guard because he stiffed before squaring his back again. He coughed and turned his face to look at you from over his shoulder.

“There is no need for that.”

“You have been awake for too long for it to be safe to sit behind the wheel.”

“I can just call a cab for that.” He pulled his phone from his pocket as if to prove he could.

“How long is it going to be until you get home? Aren’t you tired?”

“It’ll be forty minutes at most.” He typed on his password and set a stubborn hand over his waist. You looked at the side of his profile, and bit your lower lip. If there was one person who was more bullheaded than you, that was Dr. Zayne.

You made an effort to stand and walked to his side, trying to pick your face between him and his phone screen to force him to look at you for a second. He ignored you.

“We had plenty of sleepovers when we were kids, it would be nice to do it again. You rarely come to my apartment if it’s not to pick me up for something.” His expression didn’t show any sign of hesitation. You decided to take out the heavy ammunition. Knowing Zayne’s weak spot for puppy eyes after seeing him give in to his smallest patiences’ trickery, you hucked your hands around his arm and with pouty lips –Zayne’s health came before dignity– you attempted an attack.

“Please? I’m worried about you.”

Zayne looked down and away from the screen when you tugged on his arm. The words he was about to say died on his tongue and after a stuttering couple of minutes, an emotion you couldn’t catch flashed across his eyes. Probably the effect of your inexperienced pleading. God, you were sure you looked ridiculous right now.

I do this for your own good, Zayne.

His expression went from startled to a frown, but you didn’t budget. You could see a hint of internal struggle, which meant that it was working, so you squeezed his arm a little bit closer to your chest and waited.

Finally, the struggle gave way to resignation and you knew you'd had won.

“Fine.” He said in a cold voice. He held the bridge of his nose with two fingers and closed his eyes with exasperation, “but let go of my arm.”

You let a triumphal smile spread across your face since he couldn’t see you and you let go. “Great!” You sang, “We’ll have to find you some clothes for you to sleep on. I’m sure I have some oversize pieces at the back of my closet. Let me look for them.”

You ran off to your room, leaving a distress doctor sighing at your back.

No more than fifthteen minutes later, Zayne was on your biggest (oldest) black hoodie, stretched and torn after so many washing cycles, and a pair of gray sweatpants that barely got to his calf. You had retrieved a back up toothbrush from a dark corner of the cabinet –still in its box–, and he was brushing in the bathroom while you finished picking up the stuff in the living room.

“You are too big for the couch, I’m telling you. And you can’t sleep while sitting down, your neck will kill you tomorrow.” One argument had turned into the next. Now you were trying to explain to a six-foot-one man how tall he was. “And you could sleep on the floor if you wanted, but my bed is big. I don’t know why this is such a big deal for y—”

The doorbell rang from across the room giving you a startle.

Shi—.

“Who rings someone’s doorbell at two in the morning?” You asked, annoyed. What a way to scare the living hell out of someone.

You heard Zayne’s voice muffled from the bathroom.

“Probably some kids playing around.” His voice was followed by the sound of water running as he rinsed his mouth.

You scolded and dropped the cushions in their designated spot over the dining chairs. With angry stumps, you moved to the small screen next to the door. The security camera showed the image of the main door of the building.

Empty.

There was no one in front of the glass windows, not even a shadow under the iridescent light of the streets.

They run off. Rascals.

You prompted both your fits over your waist. “Seriously, that’s just annoying. I don’t see how this would be entertaining for anyone.”

“You can’t take in a joke?” Zayn’s voice sounds closer than before. He had walked off the bathroom and was moving to the kitchen area with that signature faint smirk in his lips.

“Oh, shut up.” You shushed him. You heard a low chuckle and the clinking of glass as he looked for something in one of the cabinets. You turned back to the screen, bent over and squinted your eyes, paying close attention for any sign of movement. Nothing.

Fine. You will let it go this time, but next time you would teach them not to play pranks on a hunter’s house.

You straighten back up and turn around. Immediately, someone knocked on the door behind you.

“What—!” You jumped.

“What was that?” Zayne asked from the kitchen.

“I– A neighbor?” You asked, your voice full of doubt even as you said it. You turned back to look at the door.

Oh, fuck. It was the singing, wasn’t it?

You groaned and covered your face, feeling the blood rushing to your face, making it go hot.

“I told you they would complain.” Said Zayne all coky, seemingly having the same idea as you.

“Be quiet. I stopped singing a while ago, this is probably because you were being stubborn about the couch. They probably hear us screaming at each other from one room to the other.”

“Well, I don’t live here, so this is your problem.”

You sighed. You were regretting your merciful soul. Maybe you should have let him fall asleep behind the wheel so he would learn his lesson by himself. No, you slapped your face with both hands. Leave those dark thoughts. One problem at a time.

Taking a deep breath, you faced the door. You fixed your appearance as best as you could before taking the doorknob into your hand and plastering an apologetic smile into your face. You opened the door slowly, and embarrassingly showed yourself from the crack of the door.

The apology dried down in your lips and your eyes went wide when you saw the person at the other side. The shock was such that you weren't able to hold back the surprise pitch in your voice when a word escape you,

“Sylus?!”

“Lower your volume, kitten. It’s late.” He laughed and held a finger to his lips. He stood there in his whole glory, covered in black leather. His jacket opened to show a white shirt with a small stain of blood close to the hem of his neck and his golden pendant hanging over his chest. His red eyes flickering with the light of the common corridor.

You started with your mouth open and let the expression set, seemingly pleased to have baffled you stupid as he often did. What is he doing at the door of your apartment? Your blood rushed again, this time with a more displeasing feeling.

You held the door tight, narrowing the gap that let him see into the apartment as much as you could without closing it right in front of his face.

“There are cameras everywhere in this building. I told you to stop doing this. What are you doing here?” You whispered between greeted teeth, a mix of anger and alarm.

He lowered himself to be eye to eye with you, placing a heavy hand against the door. Not yet pushing it open, but to at least make sure you couldn’t lock him out. He followed you lead by whispering his next words too.

“I missed you, that’s all.” His eyes flashed with amusement. Great, you gave him a great reaction –that sight of infatuation he liked to trigger on you– and now he was hooked and ready to play you around.

You swallow the come back lingering at the tip of your tongue. Don’t entertain him. You kept your expression neutral but firm when you said,

“Not today, Sylus.”

“What, are you tired? You can go ahead and sleep, I just want to sit with you for a little bit.” He moved closer until your noses almost touched. His whispers turn into soft spoken words. “Some pests have been running around causing trouble lately. They’re sneaky and give me a little bit of a headache. That’s why I haven't been able to come and see you lately. I still need to go back to work, so it will only be for a moment. Is that alright?”

You didn’t answer, running possible excuses for him to leave as soon as possible. While he waited for your answer, something seemed to come to mind. He moved back a fraction and tilted his head to the side, curiosity in his gaze.

“You opened the door quite fast. You weren’t asleep yet?” Whatever look you gave him was enough for him to know the answer to that. He laughed quietly and straightened back up, “Are you misbehaving, kitten?”

Deciding the most efficient way to deal with Sylus was to tell him to get the hell out of there, you opened your mouth to tell him off. He would always listen to you if he saw true displeasure in your expression.

In that instant, a voice came from behind your back.

“Is everything alright?” Zayne’s tone was calm, but also somehow worried and vigilant to your ears.

At the sound of the voice, Sylus’ smile dropped. Red lights swarmed in his pupils, turning to the deepest crimson, as black as blood when you gash out an important artery.

“Who is that?” His tone was sharp as knives. Games aside, he didn’t care about keeping his words a whisper anymore.

“I…”

“Are you asking about me?” Zayne’s calm tone turned into stone.

Sylus’ gaze twitched when he heard it again. His eyes clocked on you, almost threatening. He studied you, running his eyes over you from the tip of your toes to your face, looking for something. You tensed under his scrutiny, wondering why it made you feel so vulnerable. This was the hard gaze Sylus would use with the people he considered rats tampering with his trash and ruining his sidewalk. You weren’t used to those eyes looking down on you.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“If it was the noise that bothered you, we apologize for the inconvenience. We will stay quiet from now on, we were setting on to sleep.” Sylus’ attention moved over your head as if trying to see through the door to the person on the other side. “We can talk about this more in the morning if you’d like.” When Zayne finished his statement, Sylus’ slowly moved back to look you in the eyes. There was a lingering note of danger when he repeated Zayne’s words to you.

“...The noise?”

It was as if the cat had eaten your tongue. Sylus didn’t look alright. The sight of it made your brain immediately try to recall the spare gun hiding in a drawer in the kitchen.

A hand wrapped around your arm and pushed you away from the door.

—

Zayne brushed his teeth with his eyes passively staring at his reflection on the mirror over the sink. Your voice came loud from the end of the hall through the opened bathroom door. His expression remained stoic while listening to you talk some nonsense about waiting to share the bed with him from the living room. He deemed for every word of yours to get in one ear and out the next.

Rather than pay attention to your rumbling, he moved his gaze around over your creams and trinkles next to the tap and over the shelves on the side. Your towels hung on the walls, and the tiles on the floor showed small details coloured in gold.

Your soap scented the room, the air clean, light and sweet.

His eyes returned to his double in the mirror. The hoodie you handed him had gone from black to gray from washing, and the sweat pants had a hole on one side over one of the seams. He felt the softness of the worn down fabric and the scent of the softener in your clothes.

“I don’t know why this is such a big deal for y—”

The doorbell rang. His body flinched, his shoulders jumped sending his hand a little too far into his mouth, almost stabbing his throat with the toothbrush. You cursed between your teeth, the sound softened by the distance.

He frowned. He turned his head around, over the pile of neatly folded clothes lay his watch. He reached for it with his fingers and shifted it his way to look at the dial. Two past seven in the morning. Who in their right mind rings into someone’s house at this hour in the middle of the night?

“Who rings someone’s doorbell at two in the morning?” You asked from the living room.

Zayne put down the brush and held a hand to his neck, coughing lightly to get rid of the sting of pain at the back of his throat. He ran his fingers through his hair, regained some composure and washed the frown from his face.

He went on to turn on the tap as he answered,

“Probably some kids playing around.”

He let the water run to wash as best as he could at the lack of a shower. He blindly reached his hand for a towel and got the water away from his eyes. There was still a lingering line of annoyance at whoever had almost made him choke.

The smell of you on the towel took over his system again and his mind railed back to the thoughts he had been fighting and the alarming sensation of a fluttery feeling over his heart. The echo of your words from earlier and the feeling of your body pressing against his arm flooded him again.

He pressed his heart over the fluff of the towel and closed his eyes.

The sensation of heart palpitations might just be early signs of arrhythmia.

He uncovered his face and sighed. Putting the towel away, he moved his pile of clothes over the lid of the laundry basket and walked towards the hall and into the kitchen

“Seriously, that’s just annoying. I don’t see how this would be entertaining for anyone.” You said while leaning forward with your fits on your waist and annoyance clear in your tone. He could imagine your face scrunched up and the pout in your lips and he couldn’t help the smile that escaped him.

“You can’t take a joke?” He said, stepping into the kitchen door.

“Oh, shut up.” You snapped back and his smile grew wider. He moved to look through the cabinets over the counter. The uneven sets of plates and glasses spoke of your habit of hoarding all types of stuff that called your attention for either being ‘cute’ or colorful. He was looking for a pair of glasses that wouldn’t be embarrassing to drink from while you mumbled under your breath to the camera next to the front door.

You were still so vivid at this hour of the night, singing and dancing and cursing so freely. It made him wonder about your sleep schedule and if you were lying during your check ups about getting proper rest. He was about to make a comment about it when the sound of knocking on the door startled him again.

His hands freezed over one of the glasses, almost making it fall out of the cabinet and into the floor. He heard you hold back a scream and his body tensed.

“What was that?” He asked.

“I– A neighbor?” Your voice sounded as if you were trying to reassure yourself. However the idea made sense. Your vividness had come back to bite you. The scandal had been quite a deal. Maybe it would teach you about not having to stay so late at night in the future.

“I told you they would complain.”

You bikered with him and he enjoyed it. He was usually so inclined to mind his own business and stay quiet since he never had the patience for conflict, but since you two came back to be together he had discovered how entertaining it was to tease you.

He heard the door being unlocked and seconds later yet another scream, “Sylus?!”

Zayne turned to look over his shoulder, listening attentively. The name didn’t sound familiar to him, but your tone let clear you knew who they were. A man’s voice answered, dulled by the distance, but he sounded calm.

After your initial reaction the conversation turned quiet. Since you seemed to know him and there was no other striking reaction after your initial surprise, he felt he should be inclined to think that everything was fine. However, he couldn’t shake the wary feeling on his chest.

He put two glasses over the counter and filled them with water. Your conversation was a steady murmur he couldn’t properly pull apart. And when the buzzing of the refrigerator engine rose, he felt the urge to get closer to the kitchen door to try to catch on any word he could.

You were hunching forward with your head picking out the hall through a small opening in between the door and its frame. You held into the doorknob with white knuckles and your shoulders were tense like wire.

The light sense of instinctive wariness turned into something sharper. Then, he heard a chuckle.

A male’s voice, husky and oddly cheery, came from the other side, making the hair at the end of his neck stand on end and his gut kicked with a warning.

He walked slowly from behind you. All he could hear were the desperation in your whispers talking to the person behind the door.

“Is everything all right?”

There was a beat of silence, and all the cheerfulness had been washed away from the voice when the man. The voice was stone cold when he lashed his next question at you,

“Who is that?”

What kind of questions was that?

“Are you asking about me?” He intervened before you could give this man any type of answer.

Another beat of silence, and there was a layer of threat in the man’s voice when he said his next line.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“If it was the noise that bothered you, we apologize for the inconvenience. We will stay quiet from now on, we were setting on to sleep. We can talk about this more in the morning if you’d like.” This wasn’t a situation he wanted to muse over. You had gone completely still at the door. Zayne couldn’t figure out what kind of person this would be for you to not lash out at them by the tone he was using. He walked in strides towards the door, and he had extended his arm to pull you away by the time he heard the next question.

—

“...The noise?”

Sylus saw you disappear inside the apartment and a second later a tall figure positioned itself in front of him at the door.

He licked the sharp edge of his teeth, taking one deep breath to clear the rampage that had been set on his mind. He wanted to keep steady and not act in a rush. Who would have thought that you were actually out there being naughty while he was retained by the lame games of a sneaky dirty gang.

Sylus’ eyes were set on the man’s chest at the door since he was way taller than you. And when he felt like he had a hold of his temper again, he slowly slid them up to see the man’s face. What he found there made the last of his temper untwine and his posture relaxed. He couldn’t help but arch one of his brows with curiosity.

The doctor.

Sharp jaw, black hair, green eyes, constipated expression. It was a face he could recognize easily since he had got to see it too often in pictures and files Luke and Kieran collected for him. Someone many would call a prodigy. A cardiac surgeon at Akso Hospital, well known and respected by both his teachers and pairs. Level-headed, serious, pragmatic.

And a wimp.

Sylus’ irritability washed away from his eyes and his gaze recovered the glint of amusement.

Granted, this was the first time he met the Doctor in person, but he had seen enough of him to feel like they were old acquaintances. To Sylus’ eyes the cold expressions were nothing but a façade. It might be something that spooked others away from looking for too long in his direction, but to someone like him that wasn’t a barrier of any type. The man was actually a lot more transparent than one might feel.

Kieran had quite the hand for photography, and enjoyed capturing good images with feeling. Sylus had seen a significant amount of pictures of the shy side glance looks the Doctor sent your way when you weren’t looking. His feelings for you were clear as day, and by the light in his eyes, Sylus could tell it was an old type of love.

When he learned you and the Doctor had met when you were children the look made even more sense. It also gave Sylus some reassurance. To him it was obvious: Doctor here had a childhood crush that had rutted too deep into his heart, and after holding it in for so many years, and giving his shy personality, he was probably never going to confess in his lifetime out of the possibility of you saying no.

“We were too enthusiastic about our movie night earlier. I apologize for the inconvenience, but I presume we all have work tomorrow. It would be better to discuss this at some other time.”

With context about who your visitor was, it was clear to him that he had nothing to worry about.

The Doctor’s eyes set on Sylus and discreetly looked him up and down. Should he have known he would come to meet your childhood friend he would have chosen some better clothes. He moved his hand to cover a strain in his shirt from the altercation from earlier with his jacket. A virtuous fellow like him would certainly disapprove of his attitude, and Sylus had always considered first impressions to be very important.

The contempt in the Doctor's eyes didn’t stroke him as a surprise. What a shame, Sylus sighed. He always thought that if he played his cards well he and the Doctor could strike up a good friendship since they were both smart men and shared very similar… taste.

Sylus took a second to assess the situation. From behind the Doctor’s back, you slide him a warning glance. The poison in your eyes made his heart flutter like a teen with his first crush. Biting back a smile, he decided to show some mercy just this one time. The Doctor was not wrong, it was pretty late at night and you should take some rest now.

Leaving your eyes he moved to look straight at the doctor’. With a motion he knew his type would dislike, he lifted up his chin and looked at him from above.

“Well, I’m glad you are aware of your mistake.” His eyes deflected to you so the Doctor would catch it. “My neighbor here was too stubborn to admit it.” The Doctor’ nails pressed against the wood of the frame.

Upon closer inspection, Sylus noticed the virtuous doctor’s clothes and the way his pants barely covered his shin. Well, he had never been offered clean clothes when he stayed at your house. Favoritism games were not fun, dear.

By his expression, Syrus feared the good doctor might decide to start throwing punches. As fun as it could be to help him start a criminal record of his own, he was sure you would scold him for it. So he decided to cut the conversation short.

“Fine. I am tired myself.” He turned on his heels and looked over his shoulder to throw you a wink. “I will discuss this with my neighbor some other day, when we have both cooled down.”

If the man had a reaction, Sylus decided to miss it. The only thing that got to his ear was a muffled sound and your voice whispering the Doctor’s name.

The apartment door closed behind him with a click. He could only imagine the Doctor’s questions for you if he even dared to pronounce them.

His phone ding with an incoming message and he pulled it out of his pocket. Kieran had updates on the gangster’s location and urged him to go back to work. With a heavy sight he stepped down the hall into the elevator. The night hadn’t gone as he had planned it too, but he got to see you at the very least.

He still wasn’t worried about the doctor’s slender, well taken care of fingers and where they might try to stick to, but just in case, because he was a cautious man, he pondered if he should send Mephisto to make sure you didn’t get yourself into any trouble.

[peppermintquartz]

Hi, for the prompts / ideas. If you fancy: they just move in together, into Tommy's house. For the occasion, they go buy something to make it more their home.

They've been in IKEA for two hours by now, picking up assorted organizers and baskets now that Evan is moving into Tommy's place. Tommy picks up a vase in passing, frowning at it before putting it back on the shelf.

"Do you want that?" Evan asks, materializing out of nowhere for the fifteenth time in this shopping session.

Tommy shakes his head. "Nah. Not like we get flowers regularly."

"Hmm." Evan scowls at the trolley and takes a bathroom rug out of it, disappearing down an aisle to Tommy's left.

Tommy has got used to his boyfriend's mysterious ninja ways of shopping; his job is to man the trolley and follow the path, while Evan darts in and out of the different aisles, occasionally disappearing entirely before emerging from a different section.

It's a little harder for Evan to disappear completely in the mock-up rooms and the furniture sections earlier, though he did vanish for five baffling minutes while they were in the middle of examining a pegboard arrangement and then poof! he appeared afterwards with six Kuggis boxes.

Now they're in the decor section and Evan has put in and taken out various candles, fake plants, real plants, wicker basket, woven baskets, tin pails, cushions, photo frames. Tommy is happily resigned to having to bring at least 60% of these back for refunds.

They literally came here for drawer organizers.

After another forty minutes, they are finally at checkout, and it's their turn next, when Evan suddenly vanishes once more. With a sigh, Tommy places each item on the conveyor belt and zones out slightly, listening to the beep of the scanner.

"And this one please!" Evan weaves his way through the crowd, plopping down a round green vase. Before Tommy can take out his credit card, Evan has already passed his to the cashier.

As they push the trolley full of house goods towards the parking lots, Tommy asks, "Why the vase?"

"Because I'm gonna be getting flowers for you, and you'll need a place to put them," says Evan, grinning like he's pleased with himself.

Tommy shakes his head fondly. "Yeah? And what if I got flowers for you?"

"We'll take turns, then." Evan pinches Tommy's side, making him squeal in a decidedly non-manly way. "I'm going first."

[nyx-knacks-writes]

Be More Careful, Okay?

Based off of @princeloww's idea of Alec and Campbell being uncle and nephew. I think Alec is a tad out of character here, but I saw this prompt by @prompt-dealer and had an image of Campbell being chased by an angry Alec, and I couldn't resist. No spoilers for either Broadchurch or Takin' Over the Asylum, and none for princeloww's The Never-Ending Sky, either. This is just my little idea of something that could occur if Campbell were to end up in Alec's care. I take zero credit for the idea of Campbell and Alec living together and zero credit for the prompt.

“I’m too young to die!”

“Young ain’t got nothin’ to do with it!”

Alec chased Campbell around the house, literally around the outside of the house, yelling obscenities and threatening—well, Campbell didn’t exactly know what he was threatening, but chances were high that it wasn’t good. Nature of a threat, after all.

Truth be told, Alec also didn’t know what he was threatening. He’d figure that out later. However, he did know that Campbell was in deep trouble. Trouble so deep that he wasn’t exactly sure how to punish the boy. Especially given that Campbell wasn’t even his son. So round and round they went, both yelling and trying not to slip on wet grass that would surely yank their feet out from under them at the first opportunity, causing an impromptu meeting with the cold, wet, muddy ground. 

The first offense had been the shirts. Campbell had had good intentions, really. He’d come home early from school on Monday, seen that the bathroom laundry hamper was full, and decided he’d do a load of washing to help his uncle. What a lovely nephew he was, right? Right? Wrong. Despite his best efforts to sort the colored clothing from the whites and the darks, he’d missed a pair of socks. A pair of red socks. A pair of brand-new red socks the exact color of a freshly washed fire engine gleaming in the summer sun. The shirts had come out pink. Oops. When Alec finally got to see the result of his nephew’s good intentions, he’d simply sighed and shaken his head. No sense in getting mad. He could probably do with some new shirts anyway. He’d donate the pink ones to a charity shop in town. Yeah, yeah, “real men wear pink” and all that, but what was he supposed to do? Like it or not, pink was still very much thought of as a feminine color. He could only imagine the abuse he’d suffer at the hands of his coworkers if he came in wearing a pink shirt. Big, bad DI Hardy in pink? Unthinkable. So he’d donated the old shirts, added a shopping trip to his weekend plans, and obtained the new white shirts that he preferred. A little hit to the wallet, but ultimately, no lasting harm done.

The second offense had been the soup. After the Sandbrook case had finally been solved and closed, Miller had insisted Alec start taking better care of himself and get a hobby. So what did he choose but learning to cook, which would satisfy both her demands? Ever the efficient one, wasn’t he? However, some dishes required a couple of extra hands for the sake of timing, so he would recruit Daisy and/or Campbell, depending on the day and on who was around, to help him out in the kitchen. On Tuesday, he’d needed both of them. It was going to be pumpkin soup for dinner that night, since it had been so cold and rainy, and Alec had asked Campbell to add the cream, nutmeg, salt, and pepper to the pot while he began pureeing vegetables a few cups at a time and Daisy helped him to avoid overloading the food processor. Four teaspoons of nutmeg would do it. However, when Alec caught sight of the little container of nutmeg on the counter after putting the soup back onto the stove to simmer, there was no teaspoon in sight. Instead, there was a tablespoon with a suspicious coating of brown powder sitting only an inch or so away.

“Campbell,” he’d asked slowly, “how much nutmeg did ye put in the soup?”

“Four tablespoons,” Campbell answered, looking up from the knife he was washing. “Why?”

Alec cursed, cut the gas, and put the soup pot on the stove’s back burner.

“Nutmeg is poisonous in high quantities,” he said. “The recipe called for four teaspoons, not tablespoons. If we eat that, we’ll end up in hospital.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair, debating on chastising Campbell versus just letting it go. ‘Try to read it a bit more carefully next time, aye?” he eventually said as Campbell made a point to look anywhere else but at his uncle’s eyes. “Anyone have suggestions for dinner tonight? Looks like we’ll be doing takeaway.”

The next day, Campbell really did wind up in the hospital. Not for ignoring his uncle’s warning about the soup, but instead for a skateboard accident. It had been something of an impulse buy on Campbell’s part, and while he was getting to be rather good when it was dry, he’d not yet practiced when it was wet. He’d missed the bus to school in the morning, pondered what to do, and instead of calling a friend or his uncle or even Ellie Miller, he’d decided that the best possible way to rectify this problem was to attempt to skateboard to school and ask to leave the board in the office until the end of the day. He’d load up his backpack, throw on a rain jacket, hop on the board, and sail off into the morning light, perfectly balanced and confident that as long as he was careful, nothing would go wrong. 

What actually happened was that he rolled out with all his things, made it about halfway to the building, hydroplaned on a small hill, and ate dirt. Great. One ambulance ride, a thorough wound-washing, a chunk of chin and six stitches later, he was sitting in a hospital bed as Alec chewed him out for being irresponsible and not just calling for help or walking to school instead of getting on a set of wheels that had not been properly tested for mildly inclement weather. Not that he could be too hard on the boy. His intentions (get to school without inconveniencing anyone) had been good, and the fall, given its consequences, had really been punishment enough for poor Campbell. He looked like he’d expected a bowl of cherries and gotten a cherry bomb instead: a little confused and a lot regretful. Like he was contemplating the choices in his life that had brought him to this moment. 

Thursday had been blessedly normal. No blood, no pink shirts, no ruined meals. Normal ride to school, normal day, normal ride home. He didn’t even have homework for once in his school career! Maybe he was in the clear! Maybe his little bad-luck streak was over!

And then on Friday he inadvertently dyed his uncle’s hair a bright teal. What he wanted to do was put a teal streak in his own hair. It had been something he’d been thinking about for a while, and after having such a rough week, he figured that it wouldn’t hurt to try. He’d spent the afternoon in and out of the bathroom, making sure he was doing it right and not dying the whole house at the same time, and it had come out beautifully! Not a drop anywhere but in his hair, nice clean stripe, absolutely gorgeous. His one mistake? Leaving the bottle in the shower. When he’d gone to rinse out the excess dye, he’d taken the bottle into the shower with him to check the instructions for how to properly care for the freshly dyed hair. When he was all set, he’d left it there. And what did his poor, unsuspecting uncle do when he went to wash his hair later that night? He grabbed the dye bottle instead of the shampoo. And what did he see when his hair finally dried? Bright teal. Everywhere. All over his head. No missing it. Thus leading to the lovely game of ring-around-the-house. It was a little childish, yeah, but Campbell hadn’t been sure what his uncle was going to do with him when the newly teal-headed man had stormed into the living room with murder in his eyes. The options had been limited, so Campbell chose to run. 

Uncle and nephew made the oval at least four times over, pushing Alec’s pacemaker to the limit, before Alec finally stopped seeing red and had the bright idea to simply wait for Campbell to come back around again. He snagged at his nephew’s hood when the opportunity presented itself and pulled the boy against his chest. 

“Campbell, I . . . why?” Alec asked helplessly, wind going out of his sails. “I know ye’ve had a tough time adjusting here, but why?”

“I didnae mean to!” Campbell squawked. “I left the dye in the shower by accident, I swear!”

“I know ye didnae mean to, I’m asking ye why ye haven’t been more careful! Two out of the last five days ye’ve injured or nearly killed yerself, an’ I just want to know why!”

Alec stopped for a moment, released a breath, and let it go. 

“Look, I know ye’re not happy to be here. I know nothing’s the same and ye’re not even with yer mum and da anymore. I’m worried about ye. Please, just . . . I need ye to be more careful. That’s all. That’s why I’m upset. Now please, let’s stop these Looney Tunes shenanigans an’ go back inside. It’s too cold an’ wet to be out at this time of night.”

Campbell stopped to consider that for a moment, and Alec realized what he’d said. However, the apology wasn’t halfway out of his mouth before Campbell cracked a grin.

“But I am a looney.” 

“Campbell—”

“How can ye expect me no’ to engage in Looney Tunes shenanigans when I am, in fact, a looney?”

“Campbell—”

“In fact, you ought to be thankful that I don’t engage in more Looney Tunes shenanigans just to spite ye! In fact—!”

“Campbell!”

The boy in question stopped talking, but his grin didn’t fade even a little.

“Yes?”

“Inside. Please.”

And so, the pair trooped to the door in silence, neither sure what to say to the other until Campbell paused with his hand on the doorknob.

“I’ll be more careful,” he promised. “I didnae mean to worry ye, really. I’ve just had an unlucky couple of days. I’m fine.”

“Really fine?”

“Aye, really fine.”

“And ye know ye can ask fer help any time?”

“Aye.”

“And—”

“Yes, yes, come on, let’s go inside! I haven’t eaten since lunch, an’ dinner won’t cook itself. What are we makin’ tonight?”

[saturdaylemon]

Take all the time you need! And please ping me when you expand on those thoughts - if you don't mind.

Okay, back to designing.

I'm moderately opposed to making the Shades talk for previously mentioned reasons, but I could see giving "X speaks of Y" style summaries in the action popup. They're not really the people who died (or almost died), more like impression fossils. The lights are on, but nobody's home. We think.

The Ku Flame

Your idea for Hikari are a worthy inclusion, the only question is how. And the answer to that depends on how the fight works. If I were programming a game I'd be more inclined to do a mostly-standard boss fight with some extra narrative. If I were writing a fic, however, the 2v2 with Path Actions, Talents, and Latents all getting involved would be easier to pull off in that format. The quote would be something like "Ageha, you are relieved of duty!" In a more standard boss fight it fits better as "entering second phase" or maybe post-boss dialogue. In the 2v2 narrative puzzle it can be a Full Boost quote. It really only makes sense to say once; and maybe Ageha's Shade could seem to respond to it? You probably get prompted to activate Light's Radiance for the final blow.

Ageha's Shade shouldn't get minions. He was a general in life, but like you said, he's the last vestiges of the old Ku. He doesn't have an army anymore. On a side note I want this guy to yell "FIX BAYONETS" so bad but guns aren't available yet. Need to pick out a Boost message, a Boost Attack, regular moveset because it can't be all support... so everything. Definitely gets Rally Troops or a similar move by the same name though.

Tanzy was an aspiring playwright, but it seems she never published. In Giselle's troupe she served as director, so it could be fun (more fun in a standard boss fight where there are more characters) to let her Shade mess around with turn order. Like, oh, you were setting Hikari up to counter Ageha's shields off? Haha no the adds just got moved to the top of the round and used up the Vengeful Blade stacks, Ageha's Shade is shouting orders, and Tanzy's Shade is about to hand you your ass. Speaking of adds, the most obvious basis is the other troupe members... but Tanzy pretty conclusively left them behind. Another possibility is to reference her unpublished scripts with unfinished marionettes, or if we want to have some fun, give Tanzy's Shade the same minions as Arcanette. Tanzy begins praying.... -> BREAK HER SHADE NOW! If this is a 2v2, Ruinous Kick makes sense as the Boost Attack because that's half your dudes. In a more standard fight, the Boost Attack should be something a bit more powerful. Regular moveset has the summon, the turn rearrange, probably a buff or two, and maybe a physical attack that inflicts something.

Agnea's Boost quote is mostly babbled interrogatives.

The Crackridge Flame

Ori's Shade is weak to Polearm/Dagger/Bow/Fire. Guess why. (some kind of Light element attack because come on it's in her name) Stop the Presses! / So Tired: inflicts Speed Extremely Down Dear Diary: equivalent to the Merchant job's Rest. Name does not change after Ori's Shade is broken for the first time. Ori can't do this anymore. -> this is gonna hurt

The Final Night sounds like it should be the Boost Attack for Lucian's Shade, but it would also be really funny to have it be the weakest attack. We'd need to name Lucian's other works to name the Shade's attacks... think we could crib Nearer the Flame from the Stormlight Archive? Lucian retrieves a notebook.... -> this is gonna hurt slightly less

Temenos starts going through all of Lucian's works, trying to line them up with the Shade's attacks, and Osvald is experiencing the internal conflict between "not my SpIn, not my problem" and the knowledge that it is Very Much His Problem. Castti is probably in the background like "oh shit I have seen that girl before."

Osvald will offer to explode the person responsible even if you hit Crackridge after Flamechurch. There is no expiration date on Grandpa Blast.

The Toto'haha Flame

Hm, fair point. I figured Castti's usual Slightly Unhinged Boost quotes fit the emotional charge well enough, but this wouldn't be that long after Trousseau. The metaphorical wound is still raw. She could have a Boost quote demanding that the Apothecary's Shade get out of her way. It can't understand her, but she doesn't know that. We could give the apothecary a name, but it also works to leave him completely unknown. Just another cooling body.

Keep the Grotesque Monster's weaknesses (Axe/Bow/Ice/Light), mostly physical moveset since the Apothecary's Shade is handing out debuffs. Give it the Grotesque Monster's Piercing Cry, because if I heard someone like Petrichor start screaming out of nowhere I would be pretty freaked out. Petrichor gives off an ominous aura! -> Apply axe to face, repeat. Hunt the Weak: single target physical, damage increases with number of debuffs and afflictions on target. This is kind of a dark mirror of Drastic Measures, but it works.

Someone's Shade is passing out every negative effect in the game. Bow weakness works, maybe also Dagger and something else for game balance I dunno.

Ochette's Full Boost quote for this fight is "I can't forgive you!"

At some point Temenos makes the connection between some of Petrichor's comments and Roi's disappearance, promptly flips out.

The Flamechurch Flame

The design philosophy here is basically OKAY EVERYONE, PUT ON YOUR ARCANETTE HATS, TODAY WE ARE BEING MEAN TO TEMENOS! And part of that is making him watch two of the most important people in his life aid and protect their killer. So that's 3 and 4. 3 has the extra gutpunch of making him wait for the other shoe to drop.

Crick's Shade can keep his playable moveset. Weak to Sword/Staff/Dark. You know why. Crick is watching Temenos.... -> For a moment, a player could mistake this for a "skip a turn" message, maybe a hint that the people who left the Shades behind are still in there (this is intended to be perceived in-universe)... NOPE THAT'S THE BOOST MESSAGE. Also a callback to the Felvarg. Should we make Crick's Shade have a Boost Attack that sacrifices itself, or is that too limiting in Mean To Temenos potential?

Pontiff Jörg's Shade gets the Standard Cleric Weaknesses of Sword/Dagger/Axe/Dark. It has reason to use the Cleric moveset, but I was thinking we could nab something else from the Claude fight and give it Reflective Veil from the OT1 Cleric. Also, Lock Away. The move that prevents the target from recieving aid or items from any other party member. (And a slight nod to Whatever Was Up With Alpates.) Starts battle by using it on Temenos.

(Balance-wise, Temenos can break Crick with his base kit but not the Pontiff partially because this works with the story - Temenos hitting Crick's worldview with a metaphorical sledgehammer vs That's Your Dad - and partially because between Temenos' Latent and Throné turning into a protective blender it's probably fine.)

Throné uses her "Sorry, but I won't hold back!" Max Boosting quote for this fight, but even using the same voice clip it's meant to come off in a slightly different light. (You ever think about how her HP Thief bark is a sarcastic "You're too kind." and her "healed by Temenos" bark is a much more genuine "You're too kind, Temenos"? Because I have.) Temenos tries to talk himself out of a breakdown when Max Boosting. He fails. Possibly devolving from "keep it together, that isn't really him" early in the fight to beaten-dog whimpering in the second phase.

2v2 narrative puzzle ramble One reason I'm more inclined to use this for a fic is that the Journey For The Dawn locks you out of your daytime Path Actions. Sun's not rising. In writing, there's less trouble with carving out an exception in the game mechanics. The idea I had was that the Shade battles would yank the corresponding travelers into a sort of dream space where it isn't day exclusive or night. Kind of like a cross between Temenos' "The truth lies in the flame" Detective Vision thing and whatever was going on while Hikari duked it out with his shadow. (Said shadow: "Not me this time. I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole.") From the outside, the two fighting appear to be asleep standing up, twitching and mumbling as if caught in a particularly vivid dream. Temenos "Commitment to the bit" Mistral sees two people snap out of that trance for the first time and immediately goes "Welcome back. ^_^" Throné may or may not be winding up to smack him.

This also works with having both the Arcanette fight and the Shade fight at Flamechurch. Arcanette certainly looks like she could cast Spell of Really Bad Trip. Basically Throné and Temenos are in the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Boss Fight while everyone else is trying very hard to kill Arcanette with hammers.

Back to Path Actions, I still don't know how all of those would work. Going down the list

Agnea: Entreat to get "Tanzy" to show you her journal works, Allure doesn't. Both these people have chosen their paths. Hikari: Challenge is a little redundant but potentially serviceable, Bribe less so.

Partitio: Purchase and Hire could both work for trying to coax "Ori" back to the land of the living. Purchasing a paper moreso. Osvald: Trying to get at Lucian's notes fits Scrutinize or Mug, although Mug is again redundant. Let him see that!

Ochette: Provoke is already happening, especially with Petrichor's Shade dropping everything to focus Ochette down if she summons one of the Creatures of Legend. Befriend is... not happening. Petrichor can starve. (Party pretty sure this is the first time they're heard Ochette curse.) Castti: Inquiring to get the unknown apothecary's name so the party can effectively lay him to rest is kind of sweet. In that vein, Soothe has already been done with Malaya and also believe her she's trying!

Temenos: Guide has also been done already, and Coerce is not only kind of already happening but isn't going to work on Shades. Sorry, Temenos, no chances to say goodbye for you. Throné: Stealing in combat is already part of the Thief kit (also pickpocketing Temenos' family in front of him is Not Cool Dude). Ambush is OP in anything resembling an actual fight, so that's another no.

So we're 4/16, 5.5/16 with partial credit included. Unless you have better ideas. Still wish to subscribe to your newsletter.

Latent Powers, Talents, and EX Skills though...

All Together Now... probably not. Dance Session maybe. Song of Hope a more positive maybe Learned Skills would be great if this were Jin Mei's Shade. See Light's Radiance prompt above.

Hilarious though Negotiate Schedule may be, nothing of Partitio's really works here. Teach... maybe?

Indomitable Beast into Beastly Fangs looks fun. Or Indomitable Beast into Provoke Beasts. Get her ass, fellas! Concoct has potential for showing the Apothecary's Shade how it's done... except it's mindless.

Moonlight Judgement: hehehe. Could have it not proc at the start of battle, wait until Temenos pulls himself together enough to effectively fight the Shades. This works better in the Arcanette + Shades version of the fight. Prayer for Plenty and Heavenly Shine both have story potential. Blessing of Darkness: "Consider the following: mine's better." Veil of Darkness is also good here.

Took "standard class weaknesses" from the Dolcinea fight with Love's Marionette, for the record.

Things about Octopath Traveler 2 that I think about WAY too much 2/????

Under the cut for late game spoilers, loose and speculative nonsense

So the four sacred flames and their connections with the gods connected to each one.

Brand and Sealticge to the Ku Flame

Alephan and Bifelgan to the Crackridge Flame

Dohter and Draefendi to the Toto'haha Flame

And Aelfric and Aeber to the Flameschurch Flame

Going to go ahead and put it out there, that my head canon is that the Moonshade order successfully completed the sacrifices line out in the Book of Night in this manner: Pontiff Jorg (Cleric, Temenos chapter 1), unnamed apothecary in Canalbrine (Temenos Chapter 2), scholar in Canalbrine (who's name I don't remember, also from Temenos Chapter 2) Tanzy (dancer/Sealticge aligned), Petrichor (Hunter), Ageha (Warrior), Ori (merchant), and Crick (Thief, as mentioned in some dialogue in Stormhail about his background).

I feel like, in a lot of ways, these flames would have been great spots for boss fights. I feel like, for a game like Octopath Traveler 2, just getting to relight the flames with ease was a bit too easy. There's a couple of different routes I personally would have taken with them.

Option 1 (least favorite) - the party fights a shadow creature of some type (excluding in Flameschurch because there is already a boss fight there). Alternatively, remix the chosen travelers' final chapter boss fight.

Option 2 - the party fights the shadows of the sacrifices associated with that flames gods (so Ku would be Ageha and Tanzy, Crackridge would be Ori and the scholar from Temenos Chapter 2, Toto'haha would be Petrichor and that unnamed apothecary from Temenos's Chapter 2, and Flameschurch (after Arcanette), would be Crick and the Pontiff (not a fun fight for Temenos especially)). Standard boss fights would be cool, but you could go a step further and have it a two on two fight with the chosen travelers against those shadows where path actions and skills came into play in defeating the shadows. Also makes the relighting of the flames a bit more personal. You've got potential either way with this option for some really cool character exploration and thematic resolution. This one is probably my personal favorite.

Option 3 - the party (or just the chosen travelers for that flame) fight the gods themselves (as a test). There's a few ways to do this too: 1. fight images of the gods. 2. the statues of the gods by the flames come to life and you fight those, not dissimilar to Osvald's chapter 4 fight with the Golem. 3. You fight a being of combined powers of the two gods, a strange and otherworldly combination of Alephan and Bifelgan for example, staff and scales in hand, plying magic and calling allies, making it rain in leaves as easily as flashes of magic lightning, or Brand and Sealticge (which I think would look something akin to Hinoekagura). This is also a personal favorite just to see how when faced with the gods, our travelers might act, when within the world itself the gods are mostly pretty hands off. The situation with Vide is an urgent one, and I think the gods would be willing to test their chosen in the final hour to make sure that they are truly ready.

I just think it would have been neat

[lesbicosmos]

Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I.

for @deadboyween day 10: Hell

[witchywithwhiskey]

in the woods with a couple of masked men

pairing: bucky barnes & steve rogers x female reader

summary: you've been flirting with steve rogers and bucky barnes for a month at the bar you all frequent with your friends, and on Halloween, when you tell them about your fantasy of being chased through the woods by masked men or men, they decide to make it a reality.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), threesome, smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (m receiving), chase kink, mask kink, light bdsm, light degradation, praise kink, light choking, roughness, check-ins, pet names (baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, sweet girl) aftercare, halloween shenanigans

word count: 3.6k

a/n: this was my idea for my third and final halloween fic this year and i was really disappointed that i ran out of time to do a fully developed version, but i figured i'd put together something short and (hopefully) hot. this still ended up longer than i expected, but it's much shorter than my normal halloween fics so i hope that's ok 😅 happy (almost) halloween y'all!! ♡

halloween fics masterlist

"What do you want for Halloween, pretty girl?"

"I want a masked man—or men—to chase me through the woods and fuck me to within an inch of my life," you answered, a wicked smirk curling the corners of your mouth. 

Your eyes slid away from the men you were talking to, casting a glance around the dingy dive bar that was more crowded than normal on Halloween night. You cut your eyes back to them and lifted a single shoulder in an apathetic shrug, your smirk still flirting at the edges of your lips.

"Y'know, just what every girl wants for Halloween."

You were talking to Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, who you’d met a month before Halloween. One of their friends had started flirting with one of your friends at the bar you all liked to frequent, and as that relationship blossomed into more than flirting, you started seeing them more. 

You'd gravitated to the handsome best friends, unable to resist talking to them, drinking with them, commiserating with them as your friends grew more and more flagrant with their public displays of affection. Besides, Bucky and Steve hadn't seemed to mind the way you'd laugh at their jokes—even the not-so-great ones—or lean against them when you grew tired late into the night. 

Still, you didn't know what impulse had prompted you to tell them about your deepest, darkest fantasy. It must've been some deadly combination of loneliness and recklessness, and the ease you felt when you were around Steve and Bucky. But you couldn’t bring yourself to take it back. 

Not when the men reacted by sharing a look like they planning something. Just the thought that they might be thinking about indulging your fantasy made you squeeze your thighs together and lean into the heat emanating from them.

Of course, you were also a little chilly, having worn a skimpy little dress as part of your Halloween costume, but you leaned closer to Steve and Bucky in the crowded bar for warmth and to inhale the intoxicating scent of their cologne, which sent more curls of heat dancing through your veins. 

Without looking away from each other, their arms wrapped around you and they crushed you between their chests while they continued their silent conversation. You waited patiently, soaking up Bucky and Steve’s warmth until they turned to you, matching grins on their faces.

After a hushed conversation and a couple rounds of Steve and Bucky asking, "Are you sure you want this, sweet girl?" you found your friends and told them you were leaving with the men. 

You told your friends you had your phone on you and promised to keep your location turned on, to check in when you were on your way home. Your friends cackled happily for you and shooed you off with Bucky and Steve. 

When you got to the woods, Steve and Bucky each slipped on a Ghostface mask. Your breath caught in your lungs when you saw the big, muscled men dressed in all black and wearing the masks, your heart beating faster in your chest as excitement and desire churned in your belly. 

One of them said they were giving you a 30-second head start, so you turned and bolted into the trees, running as fast as you could to put as much distance between you and them in the short time they’d given you. But only 10 seconds later, you heard them start to chase you. 

You didn't have the breath to call out and accuse them of cheating, you were too focused on making the game as hard for them as possible. So you ran harder through the woods, losing them in the spindly trees cast in shades of silvery blue by the light of the moon.

For long moments, you ran without hearing anything behind you. You didn't know if you were truly giving Bucky and Steve a run for their money or if they were playing with you, but you didn't hear them chasing you until your lungs were burning and your legs were aching. 

All at the same time, you heard a twig snap, the rustle of leaves. A hand snatched at your skimpy little dress, snapping it against your skin when you pulled out of their grasp. A grunt of frustration sounded as a scream welled in your throat, but you couldn't let it loose through your panting, gasping breaths as you ran on. 

Fingers closed around your wrist and you shrieked in surprise, whirling around to wrench yourself free as you ran, turning to look over your shoulder and catching a glimpse of the eerie white Ghostface mask with its yawning, wide open mouth. 

That glance you spared for your pursuer would be what got you caught—the first time.

With your head turned to look over your shoulder, you didn't see where you were going, and you crashed right into a big, hard chest. You bounced off it with your momentum, but strong arms wound around your waist, holding you pinned to the warm body pressed flush to your curves.

"Got you, baby," came a muffled voice through the mask.

You couldn't for the life of you tell which man it was, whether it was Bucky or Steve. Although, it didn’t really matter to you, your body burned with desire for each of them equally. 

"What're you gonna give me to let you go?” the man taunted, his mask tipping down in such a way that you knew his eyes were dragging down to your cleavage, which was in danger of spilling out over the low neckline of your dress. "C'mon, slut, you look like you know how to please a man—so please me, and I'll let you go."

Arousal swirled through your body at the degrading way he spoke to you—you’d told Steve and Bucky back at the bar that you liked a little degradation and you were pleased that they were running with it. You couldn't help the impish smirk that spread across your face in response to the man’s filthy request.

"You're right, dirty man, I know exactly what to give you," you purred running your hands down the man's chest and trying to catch his eye through the mask. 

Staring into the spooky visage of the Ghostface mask, you began lowering yourself to your knees and the man helped guide you down. His hands worked open the front of his jeans, undoing them and pulling out his cock while you settled on the cold, leaf-covered ground.

Without preamble, you sucked the man's half-hard cock into your mouth, relishing the way he groaned above you. His hands cradled your head, petting you idly while you licked along the velvety soft shaft, humming happily as you felt him harden against your tongue. He tasted musky, his scent filling your senses and making you gush with wetness between your thighs.

The man’s moans were loud in the forest as you bobbed on his cock, sucking him harder and faster and pushing him closer to his release. Distantly, you wondered where the other man was, but didn't concern yourself overmuch with it as you focused on making the man in front of your cum.

When you could feel that he was just about to let go, his thick cock throbbing against your tongue, you pulled away and broke free from his hold, leaping to your feet and darting off into the woods. His ferocious, frustrated roar followed you through the trees and you couldn't help the cackling laughter that tumbled from your lips as you ran.

Immediately, you could hear the man crashing through the underbrush after you and you had to wonder if he'd even paused to put his cock away before bolting after you. 

It seemed you hadn’t learned your lesson, because you risked a glance over your shoulder, trying to get a peak of whether he was chasing you with his cock out, and at that moment, a hand reached out and grabbed your arm, towing you into another strong, broad chest.

"What'd you do to him, sweetheart?" came another muffled voice as the second man pinned your back against a tree, caging you in with his thick arms.

You couldn't help but laugh as you told him how you'd left the other man with his cock out and throbbing with need, teetering on the edge of his release. From behind his eerie Ghostface mask, the man in front of you tsked, shaking his head slowly, almost like he pitied you.

"You're gonna pay for that, pretty girl," he murmured in a husky, muffled voice. His hands slid down the sides of your body, making you shiver at the way he groped you softly, reverently. He was cupping your tits and squeezing your hips in a way that made your body hum with heat as he said, "If you're a good girl for me, maybe I'll convince him to go easy on you."

Warm palms skimmed down the outside of your thighs, fingers curling in the hem of your dress before pushing it up higher and higher… 

You almost wanted to give in, to be good for him. Almost.

Instead, you scoffed, "Yeah, right,” and shoved roughly against the man's muscled chest. Though he barely budged, the movement dislodged his hands from your body and you managed to slip away from him, taking off again into the woods.

The man's loud laughter followed you, which was even more deliciously terrifying than the other man's roar had been. 

Fleeing from both of the men, you tried to run harder, but you were growing tired—both of running and the game.

It was a good thing, then, that you didn't get far. 

It seemed Bucky and Steve were sick of the game as well, because only a few seconds after the man’s laughter died in the night sky, a large body crashed into your back, tackling you to the forest floor. 

Whoever caught you wound an arm around your waist and braced a hand against the ground so you didn't get hurt, but you still landed with a soft, "oof," of surprise. The body at your back covered you with its weight, pushing you deeper into the cold, damp leaves blanketing the dirt.

"I'm gonna make you regret leaving me like that, slut," said a gruff, menacing voice in your ear. A hand was pushing up your dress and ripping your panties down your legs while another was fumbling with a zipper, his knuckles grazing your bare ass. 

The head of a cock grazed your folds, which were drenched with your desire, and your fingers sank into the soft soil beneath you as you arched into him, biting back a desirous moan. The man's hand grabbed your waist, leaning over you so the cold plastic of the Ghostface mask butted into your shoulder. 

"You good, pretty girl?" he rumbled, his voice gentler as he checked in with you.

Your body, which had been tense an intoxicating mix of fear and arousal, relaxed at the question and you smiled, turning your head to catch the man's eye through the mesh of the mask. You shot him a playful smirk.

"Fuck me hard, filthy man," you purred, arching beneath him and pushing against the hard ridge of his cock so it slid through your slippery folds. "Show me how a dirty little slut like me deserves to be fucked."

The man groaned, shifting his hips so he could sink into your wet heat with one thrust, wringing a cry from your lips as his thick girth stretched your tight cunt. When his hips were pressed flush with your ass, he paused and you both took a moment to breathe and adjust to the feel of him inside your pussy.

You didn’t know if the other man had been watching you, timing it perfectly, but it was at that exact moment that he stepped in front of you, dropping down onto his knees as he undid the button and fly of his jeans. He spread his thick thighs and sank down onto his haunches so his cock was level with your face when he pulled it out. 

"Why don't you show me what that pretty mouth can do, sweet girl," the man cooed, his voice distractingly patronizing even muffled through the mask. "Be a good girl and suck my cock while your pussy gets pounded."

You didn't need any more encouraging than that, lifting yourself up onto your arms so you could lick along the thick ridge on the underside of the man's cock, smirking when he groaned. 

"Ya like that, perv?" you teased in between pressing wet, suckling kisses to the velvet-wrapped steel of his shaft. "Like getting your cock played with by a slut you caught in the woods?" 

"Fuck yes," he groaned, cupping your head in his hands and urging you closer to the tip. You wrapped your lips around the head, enjoying the taste of his precum leaking onto your tongue, and sucked him hard. "Oh fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good, sweetheart."

You'd planned to tease the man's tip a little longer, but the man behind you seemed to be done letting you adjust to having two cocks in your holes. He pulled his hips back and slammed inside you again, burying his full length in your pussy and pushing you forward, forcing you to take the other man deeper. 

The cock in your mouth brushed against the back of your throat and you gagged at the unexpected feeling. The man in front of you sat back quickly, pulling free of your lips and letting you suck in air while you coughed and recovered.

"Careful, dickhead," he growled, his voice still muffled through his mask so you couldn't tell whether he was Steve or Bucky. His hands idly stroked the top of your head and you found yourself leaning into the soft gesture.

"Sorry," the other man mumbled, his hands squeezing your hips apologetically.

"No, no, I want it rough," you said in a husky voice, straining your body to get your mouth back on the cock in front of your face. You pressed a kiss to the underside of the man's length, looking up at him from under your lashes. "I told you not to hold back—I want everything you can give me, please.” 

"Fuck," the man in front of you grunted at the same time the man behind you groaned, starting to thrust into you slowly, making you feel every inch of his cock dragging along the inside of your pussy. The man who'd spoken stroked his fingers down your cheeks, catching a tear that had escaped when you'd gagged. "You're gonna spoil us, sweet girl, letting us use your pretty holes like that."

"Good," you said firmly, before swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock, moaning at the taste of him. You couldn’t wait to swallow his cum, to be filled of both of them. “Then maybe you guys will do this again with me."

"Fuck yes we will, baby," the man behind you groaned, covering you with his body and pinning you into the forest floor while his hand wrapped loosely around the front of your throat. His mask bumped against your cheek as he spoke in your ear. "We'll fuck you anytime and anywhere you want, pretty girl—all ya gotta do is ask."

A delirious smile curved your lips and you were just about to make some sassy comment, but then he thrust hard into your pussy, wrenching a sharp cry from your mouth as pleasure spiraled through your body. The other man used the opportunity of your parted lips to thrust his cock inside your mouth, careful not to go too deep. 

Steve and Bucky worked your body in tandem, one of them pinning you to the cold ground and fucking you from behind, while the other held your head steady and fucked your mouth. All you could do was take everything they gave you, never knowing which one was which, moaning as they pushed you to the edge of pleasure.

You were writhing on the ground, your hands grasping at the damp leaves and the thick, jeans-clad thighs of the man in front of you, searching for something to hold onto as your pleasure spiraled higher. You were arching your back to take the cock deeper into your pussy, whining pitifully as you begged wordlessly for your release, unable to control yourself when you were so desperate to cum.

The men must've understood because they hauled you up onto your hand and knees, never removing their cocks from your holes. As they continued to fuck you, they positioned your body so that the man behind you could slip his hand between your thighs and find your needy, aching clit.

"Cum for us, slut," he growled in your ear. 

The other man thumbed the tears from your cheeks as he pushed his cock deep into your mouth. He'd opened your throat enough for him so you didn't gag too much, but he fucked you through it anyway, until his cock was rubbing against the other man's hand as it bulged in your neck. 

"Be a good girl, sweetheart, and cum on our cocks," the man in front of you urged, his balls pushing against your chin as he buried himself in your mouth and groaning when your muscles contracted as you swallowed around him. "Wanna feel you scream on my dick."

"Yeah, baby, gotta feel your sweet cunt milk me," the other man groaned into your ear, rubbing your clit unrelentingly while he pounded into you hard enough you could hear the sharp sounds of his hips smacking against your ass. "C'mon, don't you want us to fill your holes with our cum—cum for your masked men, sweet girl.”

You didn't know what tipped you over the edge—whether it was the muffled, filthy words or the fingers on your clit, or the pair of cocks ruthlessly fucking your holes—but something set you off, and you came harder than you ever had before.

A shrieking scream worked its way up inside you, making the man in front of you moan loudly when your throat constricted around his hard length. The man behind you grunted as your pussy clenched on his cock, and he buried himself to the root, moaning at the feel of your inner walls sucking him in deeper.

Pleasure consumed your mind thoroughly, overwhelming you entirely as your body trembled violently. You tried to stay in position for the men, but you knew it was their hands more than your own strength holding you up as the ecstasy of your release wrecked you.

The man in front of you came first, holding your head pinned to his abdomen and spilling his seed down your throat while you swallowed weakly, some of it spilling out around the shaft of his cock and joining the spit and tears making a mess of your face. 

The other man followed a moment later, pressing his hips flush against your ass and coming with a filthy groan, his mask pressed to your shoulder blade and his arms wrapped around your waist while you felt his cock twitch deep inside you.

In the cold, dark forest on Halloween night, the three of you rode out your pleasure together for long, hazy moments. But when the chill of the air seeped into your cooling skin and you began to shiver, Bucky and Steve pulled themselves free from your body and gathered you up in their strong arms. 

Together, they helped you stand, fussing around you as they fixed your dress and tugged leaves from your hair. One of them draped a hooded sweatshirt around your shoulders while the other used your discarded panties to clean the mess from between your thighs.

You'd lost track of who was who as they circled around you to clean you up, so even when Steve and Bucky pulled off their Ghostface masks, you didn't know which of them had fucked your mouth and which had fucked your pussy. 

You didn't care overmuch, it was fun not knowing. Besides, you knew if you asked, they'd tell you which man was which.

"Doing good, pretty girl?" Steve cooed sweetly, dropping his lips to kiss your cheek. His fingers smoothed away the grit of your ruined makeup, making you smile.

"Yeah, so good," you said in a dreamy, breathless voice, catching his eye so he could see the honesty in your gaze when you told him, "Best Halloween ever." 

Bucky chuckled at your statement and tucked you into his side beneath his arm, turning you in a direction you assumed would bring you back to the car they’d driven out to the woods.

"Let's get you home, sweet girl," Bucky murmured, brushing a kiss against your temple while Steve slid in on your other side, his arm wrapping around your waist. They held you clutched between their bodies, and you felt nothing but warm, sated and happy. "You've had your halloween fun with your two masked men, now it's time to rest."

"Yes, sir," you said on an exhale. Though you'd been trying for a playful tone, your voice was soft and sweet and you found you meant it. You trusted them to take care of you, and you let your head fall on Steve's shoulder, snuggling into him while you let the best friends guide you back to the car.

Once Bucky had tucked you into his lap on the passenger’s seat, you texted your friends to let them know you were ok while Steve drove you home. The men helped you inside and, at your request, stayed the night, cuddling up with you in your bed. 

That night, you fell asleep with a smile on your face snuggled between Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes knowing you got what every girl wants (or, at least, what you wanted): some fun in the woods with a couple of masked men—and a Halloween night to remember.

halloween fics masterlist

[sigh-tofm]

when the power goes out one cold and rainy november evening…

… price

- goes full dad. pulls the grill up to the back veranda door and cooks up some mean steaks for you two. gets a fire going in the fireplace to keep the house heated. has half a mind to call the power company and tell them that they don’t need to hurry, he’s got everything covered here. actually, they don’t need to come at all, not for a few days. tells you his thoughts as he pulls the mattress off your bed and deposits it in the living room in front of the fireplace, so you both can keep warm tonight. you let him know in no uncertain terms that he will do no such thing. you’ll let him have is fun tonight, but you will need a hot shower and a working oven in 36 hours, no matter how much he wants to play boyscout. but as you sit in front of the roaring fireplace and your admittedly very rugged and handsome husband feeds you bits of grilled steak and holds a glass of red wine to your lips, a thick, warm blanket covering you both, you must admit that this isn’t bad either.

… kyle

- excitedly improvises. you know, it’s like this every day when we’re in the field, he beams as he brushes the dust off the firepit in the woodshed. doesn’t mean it has to be like this now though, does it, kyle. you pull your jacket tighter around yourself and watch as he finds the least rotten firewood in the shed and uses up eight matches before he can get a light. you almost tell him to leave it and come inside, that you’ll order in tonight, but he’s so engulfed in fanning the little flame to life that you can’t help but play along. you get an umbrella when the rain comes down harder and use it to shield both your boyfriend and his firepit from the weather. when you gently ask how he’s going to cook up the pizza you two were in the middle of preparing when the power went out, he wilts a little, but somehow manages to macgyver a cooking system for it that only leaves it slightly burnt. you know, he says while you two are standing under the awning, admiring your fire baby and nibbling on damp, blackened pizza, in the field we sometimes need to share sleeping bags too.

… johnny

- immediately relents. moans and groans about being off duty and that he shouldn’t be expected to fend for himself like this when he isn’t in an active war zone. you pull up the local takeaway menu on your phone and hand it to him. go get us some warm food, soldier, you prompt him and gather up some supplies while he’s away. the old scottish farmhouse you live in has a fireplace, of course, so you light a fire there and with some effort pull the couch up in front of it. blankets and pillows from the living room, old fair isle knit jumpers from the hallway closet, a sheepskin rug to warm your feet on. when he comes back with his arms full of steaming indian (best to get some extra, mo chridhe), his mood seems to have lightened a little too. especially when he sees you in thigh high knit stockings, wearing his jumper and laying on the sheepskin rug. okay, maybe this isn’t so bad. at least he’s not being shot at.

… simon

- is prepared. goes down to the basement and carries up box after box of emergency equipment. hands you a round little paraffin stove (which you have no idea how to work) and a matching aluminium pan, as well as a large variety of ready-made freeze dried stews and soups. just add water, he says unhelpfully, and continues pulling out equipment from his kit. amongst the various bags of tools and gadgets you can spot tent poles and emergency flares, and it’s obvious he’s been itching to use all this stuff for a while. you decide to entertain him and google your way around the stove, finally getting a light on it. you light candles and pull out your winter coats while the water boils, making it an overall cozy time. hav’ta be prepared, he mutters as he comes to sit with you when the food’s ready, the living room full of his unpacked catastrophe preparations. next time we’ll just go to a hotel, you gently request and serve him year-old mushroom stew, brought back to life with some warm water. he looks longingly at all his equipment. you yield. or camping.

[misserabella]

bloody and needy

just thinking about spencer being the kind of MAN that doesn’t care about blood. you want period sex? you’ve got it. that’s it. that’s the prompt.

cw: +18, minors dni!, period sex, blood duh, spencer being a service king, praising, lots of pet names and dirty talk, breeding kink, overstimulation, creampie, allusion to a second round…

it’s all a blur. you don’t exactly remember how or when spencer took off your clothes, but you’re laying completely naked over a couple of towels on your shared bed as his large fingers pump into your squeezing cunt.

“fuck.” and you’re moaning, cause it feels so fucking good you want to cry. it’s been over a week since you two have had sex, since he’d been away for a case, and just when he was finally coming back home and you hoped you’d finally get some release, that time of the month tagged along. so there you were, horny, desperate, and bleeding. but your boyfriend doesn’t care about blood. ‘it’s natural.’ he’s told you before. ‘tell me what you need and i’ll give it to you.’

so here you were now, legs spread as he adds another finger, your own in his hair tugging at the feeling of him stretching you so nicely… spencer kissed and sucked at your neck, his cock throbbing at the sweet sounds you’re making and the squelches that come from your cunt as he pumps in and out.

“spencer…”

“god baby, you’re so pretty like this…” he muttered, needy to be inside but waiting for you to give him the go ahead. his hand is a mess of crimson but he pays no mind to it.

“need you.” you breathe out, your back arching as his lips latched to your nipples.

“yeah? you need me?” he lapped at one of them and you nodded, whimpering. “should i take my fingers out then?” you nodded once again, but still whined at the loss of pleasure. “i know, i know baby. so needy for me.” he was quick to make work of his clothes, throwing them aside with your own and positioning himself in between your legs.

your hips and legs trembled when the tip of his cock teased you, and his tongue wetted his lips at the sight of the face you made when it bumped against your clit. “so sensitive huh?” he smiled and you nodded, eyes hazy.

“feels so good…”

“im gonna make you feel better, angel.” he said as he pushed inside with one single thrust, what made you scream. “fuck. you’re so warm…” he gritted his teeth as he started to move, leaving kisses on your neck. “so wet for me. you feel like heaven, love. so good for me.” he praised as he fucked into you, your legs surrounding his hips and your nails digging on his back. “you needed this, hm? baby? you needed me to fuck you, huh? my poor pretty girl. i’ve always told you that you just need to ask and i’ll give you anything.” your cheeks blushed, and you whined. “see what being a good girl and speaking up gets you, baby?” he pecked your lips and you moaned at a partially harsher thrust. “like that?”

“harder.” you desperately asked and he complied, fucking into you at the same speed yet harsher. you couldn’t stop the moans and whimpers falling from your lips. “spence…”

“i know angel, you’re so sensitive, doing so good for me…” one of his hands found your clit, circling it. “you can cum, pretty girl.” you moaned, your back arching. it was almost too much, until the overstimulation faded and you were grinding against his touch and cock in a daze. “jesus. if you could see yourself right now baby, so fucking hot… gonna make me cum so hard…” you whimpered at the thought. “yeah? you want me to cum for you baby?” you nodded. “where?”

“inside. cum inside please.” you babbled, your whole body tensing at the approaching of your orgasm. spencer groaned.

“you want me to fill this pretty pussy? make a mess out of it?” you cried and hiccuped in answer, muttering a ‘yes’ that almost made him bust in the spot. “want me to get you round and pretty for me?”

“yes! please, spencer, please…!” you begged and he moaned.

“i’m gonna cum baby, gonna fill you up so much it’ll be dripping out of you for a week.” that made you unravel, the tight band in you stomach snapping as you screamed in release, moaning his name over and over. “fuck, angel, fuck.” he groaned as he felt you clench, and after three stuttering thrusts, he spilled everything inside of you, kissing you sloppily as he fucked the two of you through it.

after the two of you came down, he caressed your cheek. “you okay, baby?”

“more than okay.” you smiled, and he couldn’t help but do the same.

“i’m gonna go find something to clean us up, okay?”

yoy looked down to find his thighs and v line along with his lower stomach stained in your blood. it only made you throb and him hiss.

“or maybe not.” he replied as he felt you starting to rock your hips against his already hardening cock.

“maybe not.”

-

❤️🩸i’m on my period, SO WHAT

[comically-callous]

Can I request headcanons for Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Wade finding out that his gn s/o has never dated anyone else before him please?

X-Men requests YAYYYYY YAY YAY YAY YAY!!!!!!!! 🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃

Wade, Logan, Remy, and Kurt with a s/o who hasn’t dated anyone other than them!! <3

Warnings!: cursing ig, reader is referred to as pretty (I consider that gender neutral, but wanted to put it here just in case), and that’s it!

A/n: Want them all ngl 😞 If it wasn’t already clear, I’m delighted to have my first X-Men request. And I also really like this prompt (definitely not because I can relate to it. Haha, shut up). Also, requests: OPEN 💜

Wade:

He straight up thinks you’re lying when you first tell him. He even laughs because he’s convinced you’re just messing with him.

But, then he realizes you’re not laughing and he’s like “Oh, shit. Really?”

He’ll apologize for laughing and probably say some shit like “Sorry, I just didn’t realize a smoke show like you was capable of being single”

And he means it. He was fully under the impression that you’d been on more than a few dates because you’re HOT

Definitely teases you about it. “Is that why your hands were so sweaty on our first date?”

Don’t be afraid to (playfully) smack him.

Despite all of the teasing, he makes sure to let you know that it doesn’t bother him. In fact, he thinks it’s cute

He’ll say that you’re “new to dating” even if the two of you have been dating for years

Starts calling you a rookie. And he ends up saying it so much that it just becomes one of the many pet names he has for you

And, yeah. When you’re not around he’s probably giggling and kicking his feet over how he’s your first boyfriend 🤭

Logan:

When you first tell him, he just looks at you for a second, not saying anything before going “You’re serious?”

“And you decided I’d be a good first pick?” He says it like he’s teasing, but, in reality, it does confuse him a bit.

Like, wouldn’t you want someone sweet and kind for your first relationship? Not a grumpy, old guy with knife hands???

Nonetheless, he’s grateful (and even honored) to be given the title of your first boyfriend

He doesn’t make a huge deal out of it. He’ll occasionally bring it up, maybe ask a question or two about it. But, it doesn’t really change anything about your relationship.

Or, at least, that’s what you think for a while.

One night, he returns from a long mission and he crawls into bed next to you, and you think he’s just gonna immediately go to sleep like he does every time he comes back from a mission. But, then he mumbles something.

“I wish I’d had someone like you as my first.”

And before you can even process it, he’s asleep.

You ask him about it in the morning and he says he doesn’t remember saying it. You can decide whether or not you think he’s lying.

Remy:

You tell him that you want to tell him something, and he can tell you’re nervous about it.

“What’s got you so nervous, chère? You know Gambit don’t judge nobody. ‘Specially not you.”

And you confess to him that you’ve never dated anyone and he’s like. “Oh. That’s it?”

He doesn’t mean to sound apathetic. He was just expecting something bad.

He asks you to clarify what you mean by “not dating anyone before him” because he thinks he somehow misunderstood you

“You telling me no one ever tried to get with a pretty thing like you?” And then he smirks. “Or were you just ignorin’ all of ‘em till Gambit came round?”

He also teases you about it from time to time. Makes little comments about how he’s your first.

But, it’s just because he loves it.

He often thinks about how he’s the only guy who’s gotten to take you on dates and do all this romantic stuff with you

“Don’t no one else know what they missing out on….”

Kurt:

He doesn’t even try to hide his surprise. He can’t.

“I’m really your first? But, how? You are so beautiful!” He’s just upfront with why he thinks it’s absurd.

He needs to hear it a few more times before he finally accepts it. And that’s when he starts getting giddy.

“I am your first lover?” He grins. “I like that, I think.”

And now everyone has to know. Sorry.

He will gladly go around and tell people that he’s your “first love” (as he likes to say). Is it usually embarrassing for you? Yes. But, it’s Kurt. So, it’s okay.

So, yeah. You definitely don’t have to worry about whether or not he minds it.

Of course, now he has to ask a bunch of questions about it too.

“So, was the first date you’ve ever had with me?” If you say yes, he smiles before asking. “Was it good?” Like he doesn’t already know the answer.

He’s just over the moon that he was the first person that you really fell in love with. And he wants you and everyone around you to know how happy he is with you.

[slu7formen]

So I got this from a book but a truth and dare game with Luke where she has to lick whip cream of him. You can do whatever you want with this prompt but like a smut could be nice.

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

this single request itself made me wanna try it, love you <3

warnings: teasing, kissing, s3xual tension, food play, drinking, oral (f receiving), mutual m4sturbation, unprotected s3x, possessive!luke at times, biting, f1ngering, chocking, also this is SO LONG, I’M SORRY

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.

₊˚⊹♡

The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows on the faces gathered around the hidden clearing. You all had managed to sneak away from the watchful eyes of Chiron and Mr. D for a game night in the woods. The air buzzed with the energy of a rebellion and contagious laughter – a night of games for the older campers, fueled by salty and sweet snacks and stolen alcohol —a sweet thank you to the Hermes’ cabin—. Laughter and playful groans punctuated the evening as truth or dare, with a twist, played out. Two decks sat in the center of the circle – red for dares, blue for truth.

Silena patiently waited as Clarisse read a red card out loud. "Whoever you find most handsome, kiss them" the card declared, "or take a shot." A playful smile spread across Silena´s lips, her gaze lingering for a beat too long on Charles Beckendorf. A blush crept up her neck as the others hooted and hollered.

"Come on, Silena" Connor Stoll, Hermes' resident prankster, prodded her with a playful jab. "Don't be shy, show us who the lucky guy is!"

With a playful toss of her hair, she leaned across the circle, her eyes meeting Beckendorf's for a fleeting moment before landing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. Beckendorf, caught off guard, sputtered and stammered, his face mirroring Silena's blush. The clearing erupted in cheers and teasing whistles.

The teasing went back and forth, fueling the already lively atmosphere. Next, it was Beckendorf's turn. He scanned the circle, eyes falling on a tall and skinny guy sipping on the last drops of his beer.

“Travis” he called. “Truth or dare?”

Travis, ever the clown, leaned back on his elbows, a confident smirk plastered on his face. "Dare" he replied, popping the r out.

Beckendorf announced the dare after picking up a card: "Take off the socks from the person on your right with your teeth, or take two shots." A collective groan rose from the circle. Lee Fletcher happened to be Travis' unfortunate neighbor.

"Come on, Trav" Luke chimed in, a playful look in his eyes. "Those feet are all fresh and sweaty for ya'." The rest of the group roared with laughter, picturing the image of Travis attempting the sock removal with his teeth.

Travis, with a grimace that contorted his face, finally managed to grab Lee's sock with his teeth and yank it free. He held the sweaty trophy aloft, earning another round of cheers and jeers.

Meanwhile, Luke couldn't help but steal glances at you, sitting next to him. The firelight cast your features in a warm glow, highlighting the soft curve of your lips and the way your hair cascaded down your shoulders like a waterfall. The scent of your perfume, a mix of strawberries and something else he couldn't quite place, filled his senses, making his heart pound a little faster. He found himself captivated by your laugh, the way your lips curved into a smile as you spoke, or the way your brow furrowed in concentration when you contemplated a dare. Sitting next to you felt like being next to a goddess, both exhilarating and intimidating, just like the rest of your sisters; girls from cabin ten.

Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, Travis scanned the circle, his eyes stopping on you. You met his eyes, a playful sparkle in your own, as if daring him to choose you.

“yn, truth or dare?”

You took a swig of your beer, the cold liquid a welcome contrast to the warmth blooming in your cheeks under his scrutiny. "Dare" you replied, your voice laced with a hint of flirtatious defiance.

A surprised whistle escaped his lips. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to choose the more daring option, you´ve been picking truth all night. He reached for a card from the red deck, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. The silence grew thick as he scanned the card.

A barely audible chuckle escaped his lips as he read the card. "Alright, pretty girl" he began, drawing out the words for dramatic effect, " 'Lick whipped cream out of the person on your left's neck, or take a shot.'"

A collective gasp rippled through the group, followed by teasing comments towards Luke. "Castellan's lucky tonight!" Connor hollered, patting his back. "Looks like you owe cabin ten a thank you, man."

Luke felt his cheeks burning like rubies. He tried to appear confident, as he always was, a casual slouch to his posture, but the rapid thump of his heart betrayed his cool facade.

You just stared at him for a moment, a nervous yet malicious smirk on your lips. You enjoyed the sight of him suddenly all red and flustered, a stark contrast to his usual cool demeanor. He looked as cute as ever. "Well?" Katie asked, shrugging your shoulder playfully. "Whip cream or a shot?"

And how could you resist the dare? A chance for your lips to brush against the warm skin of Luke's neck in a gesture that was more intimate than any game dared to be? The thought sent a shiver down your spine, a delicious mix of excitement and nervousness. Licking the sweet whipped cream off him, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath your lips... it was too tempting to pass up, and the possibilities were simply intoxicating.

Ignoring the teasing catcalls and whispers, you turned to Katie with a sly smile. "Where's the whipped cream?" you asked, knowing full well that Silena had brought a large bag of candy, a can of whipped cream nestled amongst the chocolate bars and sour gummies.

Your question erupted into another wave of cheers and whistles. Luke, meanwhile, felt like his insides were about to explode. He felt like a churning cauldron of emotions – nervousness, excitement, a burning desire dancing in his stomach.

Silena tossed the can to you. You caught it in the air, the coldness of the metal a stark contrast to the heat burning in your cheeks. You met Luke's gaze once more.

"Looks like you're about to get a little messy" you declared, getting on your knees now for a better access. With a sweet but weirdly evil smirk, you shook the can, the hiss of the pressurized cream a prelude to the sweet mess you were about to create.

As Luke held your gaze, a slow smile spread across his face. He knew this was a chance, one he couldn't afford to miss. "Alright" he sighed, chest heaving up and down in one hard and heavy movement, his voice rough with suppressed nervousness but laced with an undercoat of confidence. He tilted his head slightly to the left, offering you a better angle, his final invitation. "Do your thing."

The weight of his words, the vulnerability in his gesture, sent a jolt through you. Luke's neck, bathed in the warm glow of the fire, looked impossibly inviting, the smooth skin a stark contrast to the dark fabric of his shirt.

Taking a slight breath, you placed a few dollops of whipped cream on the side of his neck. The coldness sent a jolt through him, making him flinch and hiss lowly. A wave of whispers rippled through the group, a mixture of nervous anticipation and excited curiosity.

Luke caught a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye. You tossed your hair to the side, the movement exposing completely one of your shoulders. In that moment, under the watchful gaze of the fire and their friends, he felt himself going faintly insane with a mixture of desire and nervousness.

You leaned closer, the sweet scent of your perfume filling his senses. As you both closed your eyes at the same time, the air crackled with electricity. Your tongue, soft and warm, darted out with boldness. Pulling down on the collar of his shirt to avoid a mess, your other hand flew to the back of his neck, holding him gently in place.

The gentle rasp of your tongue against his skin sent shivers down his spine. It was a slow, deliberate movement, almost reverent, seductive, as you savored the sweetness of the whipped cream and the warmth of his skin beneath it.

Your actions were hot enough for his cock to start hardening against his cargo pants, painfully. But he has to thank the gods for luckily sitting in a position in which he was covering it.

He pressed his lips together, and apparently, that made his friends laugh. He could hear the soft gasps of your breath as you worked your way around the whipped cream blob, the sound echoing in his ears like a siren's song.

Luke felt like a live wire, every nerve ending tingling with awareness. He couldn't believe what was happening. The gentle touch of your lips made him feel as if a hundred ants walked down his spine, his heart thundering in his chest. He was trying so hard to hold back a moan.

He tried to imagine something else, literally anything, but whenever he tried, the only thing he could picture was you with him in his room, pouring whipped cream all over his neck and just licking, like a cat, as he tilted his head back and you bit down on his pulse, you whispered in his ear, you moaned loudly, you let him touch you.

He was a dead man.

Finally, with a satisfied sigh, you pulled away.

"There" you said, your voice barely a whisper. "All clean"

Luke opened his eyes, his gaze lingering on your lips, cherry lip-gloss long gone, as you finished licking off the last bit of your sweet treat. You met his gaze. Neither of you spoke.

A loud cough from Connor broke the spell. "Well, that was..." he began, searching for the right words, "intense."

“Yeah” Chris joined in, suddenly grabbing Clarisse’s hand and turning to her. “Can we do it?”

The moment was broken, the playful environment resuming its place. A wave of laughter washed over the group when the night took an unexpected turn. Soon, the whipped cream became a must along your friends.

Travis´ eyes landed on a weak Lee. The following minutes were filled with chaos and laughter as Travis chased Lee around the nearby trees, whipped cream can in hand, finally managing to catch him and plant a sloppy glob of cream on his neck. Lee's retaliatory attempt at tickling Travis only resulted in both of them collapsing in a heap of loud laughs.

The game continued, couples forming and reforming with each dare. Beckendorf and Connor, fueled by a rivalry, ended up smearing whipped cream on each other's faces, resulting in a food fight of sorts. Silena and Katie shared a non-stop giggly mess as they licked cream off each other's cheeks.

Even Clarisse, despite her initial resistance, found herself cornered by Chris.

By the time everyone´s face was sticky, exhaustion had settled in. As the fire crackled down to embers, casting long shadows across the clearing, everyone decided it was time to head back to their cabins.

The walk back was filled with drunken stumbling and whispered jokes. Silena and Clarisse, whose tolerance for alcohol was notoriously low, were stumbling back to their cabins, supported by their patient friends.

You walked behind them, a smile playing on your lips as you watched the scene unfold, bag of leftovers snacks swinging on your wrist.

Behind you, Luke admired your figure bathed in the soft moonlight filtering through the trees. Your hips, swaying with each step you took, were basically asking him to be grabbed, to be pulled. So did your hair, bouncing and shining on its on and he wondered what it would feel like to have it wrapped around his hand. His mind couldn't help but flash back to the way your tongue had felt, flat and warm, against his skin. It was a sensation that gave him goosebumps even now, a memory that made his brain feel like melted butter.

He also found no way of getting rid of his boner. His pants were a little baggy, and his friends were drunk, but still, he was just walking around camp, with a boner, and the girl that gave it to him was walking just five feet ahead.

His train of thought was abruptly derailed by a booming voice. "Alright, guys" Beckendorf announced, his voice thick with concern, "I think I'm going to take Silena back to my cabin" he turned his head behind him. “She seems a little too excited, actually” he says, as you all watch Silena´s figure almost falling to the ground as she reaches the Hephaestus cabin.

The others murmured agreement, offering sleepy goodbyes and pats on the back. You joined the chorus, your voice a gentle murmur.

Unlike many of the other campers, whose siblings populated Camp Half-Blood year-round, you were one of the few who stayed all year, along with Silena some months. With the winter season in full swing, your cabin stood empty, the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the occasional curious critter.

"You alright?" you heard beside you.

Luke, walking next to you now, seemed to pick up on your quiet contemplation. He cast you a sidelong glance, his face unreadable in the dim light.

You pulled a small smile from the corner of your lips. "Yeah, just-, realizing I have the whole cabin to myself tonight."

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

"Well, then" he began, his voice a low rumble, "Want me to walk you there so you don´t go alone?"

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as Luke's offer hung in the air.

"My cabin's not too far away, Luke" you teased, pointing towards a cluster of trees in the distance. A flash of pink peeked through the branches – the lace curtains that adorned the windows. "See? I can practically see it from here. You just really wanna spend more time with me, don't you?"

A faint blush crept up Luke's neck. He wasn't used to being so transparent, especially not around you. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"Then I guess" he stammered, a hint of amusement dancing in his voice. "that my company is not wanted?"

You couldn't help but laugh, a melodic sound that echoed through the stillness of the night and ringed inside Luke´s ears. Deep down, you knew that was the furthest thing from the truth. The dare had awakened something inside you, a flicker of something warm and exciting burning in your belly. Looking at Luke now, bathed in the cool moonlight, you saw him differently. The way his hair tousled in the gentle breeze, the way his dark eyes held a depth you hadn't noticed before – it all made your stomach twist and tighten.

You placed both hands on the back pockets of your jeans. “When did I say that?” you ask.

A slow smile spread across Luke's face, mirroring your own. He couldn't deny the truth in your words. This playful back and forth shattered a barrier, revealing a connection neither of you had anticipated. His gaze drifted down to your lips for a second.

You noticed. Just as you noticed his hardened dick hidden inside his pants.

As you continued walking, a comfortable silence settled between you, punctuated only by the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. The thought of him, his touch, his nearness, sent a hot wave through your stomach. It wasn't just about his good looks, though you couldn't deny his attractiveness. It was the unexpected intimacy, which was in fact, not so intimate due to your friends’ stares but, it left you with an empty feeling in your chest. It left you wanting more. More about Luke.

And then, it all just made sense.

As you reached the front door of your cabin, you turned around on your feet towards Luke. His eyes were wide and shiny in anticipation, waiting for you to speak. "So," you began, your voice dripping with feigned innocence, "since my company is apparently so delightful, how about you come inside for a bit?"

Luke blinked, surprised by your sudden offer. "Inside?" he echoed.

"You've never even been inside my cabin, have you? Don't you at least a little bit curious about what it looks like?"

You knew your question was a blatant and dirty lie. Luke likely knew the layout of every cabin at Camp Half-Blood, even though it is true that he only took small look from your cabin when the door was open, never fully stepping inside. But it was a way to gauge his interest. You knew how to play.

Luke shifted on his feet, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He wasn't sure if you were serious or just messing with him, but the invitation, whether genuine or not, was tempting. The thought of spending a little more time with you, alone, in the privacy of your cabin, made him think twice.

"Well," he began, his voice rough with well hidden desire, "if you want me to”

The sweet, cloying scent of perfume hit him first, a heady mix of flowers and vanilla that instantly relaxed his nerves. The walls were painted a soft, rosy pink, trimmed with crisp white molding. Pastel blue and green curtains adorned the windows, their gentle hues echoing in the twin beds adorned with pale blue sheets, a stark contrast to the brown bunks of his Hermes cabin.

Instead of the communal sleeping arrangements he was accustomed to, each camper here enjoyed the luxury of their own space. Twin beds stood side-by-side, separated by a blue dresser that boasted a large mirror and neatly organized drawers overflowing with what he could only assume were makeup and beauty products. In the corner, a chest with your name painted in a cheerful font held your personal belongings, and the space above your bed showcased an assortment of pin-ups – Hollywood starts and sultry singers plastered across the wall alongside a few candid photos of your friends, their faces beaming with laughter.

As Luke took in the scene, you walked further into the cabin, the plastic bag of leftover snacks crinkling in your hand. You tossed it onto the bed, rummaging through your chest for a change of clothes.

Suddenly, a small, gushing sound startled you. You looked up to find Luke standing directly in front of your bed, eyes sparkling like a little kid. In his hand, he held the can of leftover whipped cream, a playful white dollop clinging to his finger.

"Really?" you asked, a surprised laugh escaping your lips as you watched him contemplate licking it off. The audacity of the move, the playfulness in his eyes, made your insides twist.

"Don't judge me" he said. "I didn't get to lick it off someone's neck like everyone else did"

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. His words were a playful accusation, but the way he looked at you, the way his gaze lingered on your lips for a beat too long again, it was more than just whipped cream he craved.

You stood up slowly, a smile playing on your lips. Walking towards him, you stopped just out of reach. "Because you didn't want to" you teased, your voice laced with a hint of playing.

Luke met your gaze, his smile fading into a more serious expression. "Honestly, no, I didn't" he admitted, looking down at you from his taller height. "In front of everyone, I mean."

You tilted your head, a knowing smile gracing your features. "Why not?" you pressed, your voice a gentle murmur.

"I was thinking," he began, you immediately catch up on his nervousness, "that maybe... maybe I could do it privately."

A slow smile spread across your face again. “Privately, huh?" you echoed, your voice a teasing murmur. “Who with?"

He scoffed. “Isn´t is obvious?”

A shiver danced down your spine at his words. You couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through you, the delicious anticipation that hung heavy in the air.

With a playful and exaggerated sigh, you sat on your bed, sinking down onto the soft mattress. You look up at him, resting both of your hands behind you, making yourself as comfortable as possible.

He stared down at you, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. He took a second to sit down next to you, the close proximity making your heart beat just a little louder, and the tip of your fingers sweat. The scent of your perfume, a sweet and intoxicating mix, filled his senses.

"Can I?" he asked.

You simply nodded. “Sure” you say. Every fiber of your being was waiting for him to follow in your footsteps, to recreate the intimate touch of your earlier dare.

Bingo.

You were convinced he was going for the same part of your body that you did on his, but instead, you felt the coolness of his fingertips against your skin as he gently pulled down the collar of your tank top, exposing the delicate curve of your collarbone and the top part of your breast.

A gasp escaped your lips as the coolness of the whipped cream hit your skin. Without missing a beat, Luke took tossed the can aside and, mimicking your earlier action, swiped his tongue across the exposed skin.

The cold sensation of the whipped cream mingled with the warmth of his touch, sending a shiver down your spine. You closed your eyes, savoring the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

His movements were slow and deliberate, his tongue tracing a lazy path across your skin. It was a stark contrast to the playful swipe you'd given him earlier, a wet touch that made both of you realize, very clearly, what this whole thing was about.

A soft moan escaped your lips, barely audible but undeniably present. Luke's breath hitched at the sound, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp nip on your collarbone. Luke had bitten down slightly, the sensation sending a confusing feeling towards your chest.

"Gods, Luke, that's-" you gasped, the word dying on your lips as a wave of pleasure washed over you when his teeth grazed over it again. You didn't even care to finish your sentence, too lost in the whirlwind of emotions his touch ignited.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through you. He licked off the last bit of the sweet treat from your skin, mimicking the way you'd cleaned him earlier.

"There" he said, his voice thick with mockery. "All clean."

You stared at him, your eyes glazed over with a desire that mirrored his own. You felt like a wild animal, unleashed and untamed. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your breath coming in ragged gasps from your parted lips. Your collarbone glistened with saliva, a testament to the intimacy you'd just shared.

You couldn't take it anymore.

You smashed your lips against his in a hungry kiss. It was a kiss unlike any you'd ever experienced, raw and desperate, fueled by the tension that had been building between you all night.

Luke, caught off guard for a moment, quickly responded, his kiss turning passionate and possessive. He slipped one hand behind your back, pressing you closer, the other finding its way into your hair, tilting your head for a deeper kiss.

You tangled your fingers in the collar of his shirt, pulling him towards you as you fell onto the bed. He followed willingly, his body hovering over yours. That dare. That fucking dare. It had morphed into something far more intense, a stolen moment of passion that threatened to consume you both.

The taste of whipped cream was there, with the heat of his kiss, a bizarre yet strangely intoxicating combination. Your senses were on fire, your body yearning for more. You reached up, your fingers tracing the planes of his face, memorizing the feel of his strong jawline, the slight stubble that brushed against your skin.

As the kiss deepened, his hand found its way under your shirt, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. You gasped, a mixture of surprise and delight at his touch.

Your response was immediate when he started to graze his fingertips down your spine. You arched your back into his touch, a wordless plea for more. When he reached to your lower back, he grabbed your hip and pulled you impossibly closer to his body.

You felt his boner pocking on your inner thigh. You wondered how many hours he just spent with his dick painfully hardened, because you don’t really remember how many hours have passed since you chose dare as an option.

Your hands were quick to start pulling Luke’s shirt over his head. He only stopped kissing you to fully remove it and toss it to the ground, lips slamming against yours once again. He held a tight and possessive grab at your jaw, he didn’t want to let go of you.

The tip of his fingers trailed down your neck, your collarbone, a slow path down your body and over the fabric until his finger hooked your jeans, using a single had to get rid of the button, and quickly making it disappear along with his shirt.

“Why are you wearing this?” his voice had gone lower, his throat dry. He looked perfect like this, lips glistening with your saliva, hair messy and a finger hooked on the side of your light pink laced thong.

You couldn’t help but roam your eyes down his torso. The many years of training gifted him with a toned and well-worked body. His veins popped out with ease, starting on his biceps and getting more and more noticeable on his hands, manly, big and rough hands. You bit down on your lip for a moment, fingers tracing down his abdomen, he hissed at your cold fingers against his heated skin.

“It’s just my underwear, Luke” you explain. “Don’t like it?”

Instead of answering, the hand that was holding onto your tiny peace of underwear started trailing up your torso, flat against your stomach and all the way up to your sternum. He felt the soft fabric of your bra and gave you a lopsided smile. “I’m just hoping that this is matching”

And he got rid of your tank top. And it was, in fact, a matching set.

Luke couldn’t help but think that maybe you planned it all. Your cute lacy matching set, the empty cabin, the game. His mind started to race, circuits inside his brain working like a machine.

He hovered over your body again, trailing kisses around your neck. You moaned at the first one since he immediately found your sweet spot on the right side of it, goosebumps all the way from your skull to the bottom of your spine. “Was this all-, some plan of yours?” he asked, rushed voice and breaths coming out in gasps as he started to suck on your neck.

You giggled. “No, it wasn’t. But I was hoping for it-, oh” you moaned, pulling on his hair when he released his suck on your skin with a bop, but you felt his fingers trail up your inner thigh, knuckles brushing against your heated core.

“How?” he asked, slow and painfully teasing movements against your panties, occasionally focusing too much on your clit, making you gasp a little louder as you gripped on his bicep.

“I might have read all the cards earlier” you begin. “And I might have asked Silena to get me some whip cream with your cabin. Just in case I got to-, to do it with you. That’s why I wanted you to sit next to me”

Luke chuckled lowly, beads from his necklace tickling the skin on the base of your neck. “So it was a plan”

“No” you shrug off, feeling his lips against your neck again, sucking greedily. “I just, I wanted it. But I wasn’t sure it was gonna happen. I didn’t know this was gonna happen either”

Luke enjoyed so much the way you couldn’t even speak without letting out a moan or two in every sentence. He felt the fabric of your underwater getting wetter by the second. He listened to you and replied with little “hm’s” as if it was a casual conversation; a conversation in which you had him in your bed, almost naked, as he left bruises down your neck and you had his fingers teasing your entrance, hips rolling against his touch.

“You’re evil” he says. But it’s not you who’s touching him so boldly. It’s not you who leaves him wanting more, it’s not you who teases. But him.

So you let your hand make its way to his cargo pants, slipping past them and his boxers, directly going for his cock. A strangled moan escaped his lips, followed by his chest heaving up and down, surprised by your sudden movement. It felt hot against your hand, hot and heavy and you knew, that it was the hardest Luke has even been.

Your cupped hid balls just for a moment before you started to slowly ascent, finally reaching for his tip. Your fingers wrapped around his length and your thumb started torturous circles around his sensitive head. He sucked in his stomach constantly as you touched him, momentarily forgetting about your pleasure, but you enjoyed this a lot more.

“You really don’t want me to be evil, Luke” you say. “I could be evil and just stand up and make you walk to your cabin, or not letting you fuck me. But I’m not, ‘cause I really wanna feel you inside me, Luke. I really want you”

He let out a long and shaky breath full of relief when you started to bob your hand up and down, and that encouraged him to pull your thong aside, fingers teasing at your entrance. Your own breath came shaky as well when a single finger entered you.

Luke shook his head. “You’re so fucking wet” he pants. He didn’t even touched you properly and you were soaking his finger, lips glistening in your own arousal and leaving a wet patch on your pink underwear. “I need to taste you, doll. Please”

Your chest shakes when you laugh. You think it’s so cute that even though he has a finger buried inside you, your hand wrapped around his cock as you pump him slowly, he still says please, he still asks.

“Do whatever you want to me, Luke. I’m yours tonight”

That’s all the needed to hear. You let go of your hot grip as he steadies himself on your bed. But his hand reaches for something beside him, next to his calve. He brings the whip cream out again. “Can I try something?” he asks.

And how could you say no to his face?

You hold your breath when he leaves little balls of whip cream down your abdomen. You figure it’s empty now, because Luke throws it carelessly to the ground, a soft thud against the carpet on the side of your bed.

He holds your waist steady when you squirm slightly, as if you were about to run away from him. He glances at you for a second, his eyes, dark and dominant, basically telling you to not move a single inch. The plain sight of him, looking at you like that, while his big hands are gripped on your sides, only made you wetter.

He lowers his head to the first blob, tongue agonizingly slow as he only takes the very tip. You whine, you want him to touch you more, you want him to kiss you everywhere, to lick you everywhere, but he only makes it seems like a torture when he stops his movements.

“The more you complain, the more time I’ll take” he said. You nodded to his words, closing your eyes as you tried your best to patiently wait for him to start again.

Soon, you felt his tongue against your skin. This was so much better than your cleavage, so much hotter. You felt his teeth teasing you, attempting to bite but then pulling again, licking the last bit of whip cream before moving down to the next blob. By the time he reached under your belly button, you let out little gasps as his hands massage your inner thighs, dangerously close to your cunt.

He’s not directly touching you, but you feel the arousal getting ticker, and how close Luke’s breath was now to you, so hot and dry. You felt like dripping, even though you weren’t, but you were surely more than ready for whatever it is that he wanted to do to you.

It feels like heaven to him when he finally gets to taste you. He pushed his own head deeper in between your thighs as he groans, as if what he’s getting is not enough. Your high pitched moans fill his ears when his tongue starts slow, little kitten licks over your clit, too soft to even consider them as licks, but it has you squirming and grinding your hips down onto his face, pulling at his curls and asking him for more.

Oh, your sweet pleas. Your moans. Luke feels like a mad man as he start to gently rut his hips against your mattress. And to this point, he’s completely gone in you, too drunk to even care about how loud you were being, how hard he was eating you out, how if someone even tried to walk past your cabin, they’ll hear.

But maybe this is just what he wanted too. He didn’t know how long has it been since he realized he wanted to fuck your brains out, but he always cared about everything too. Where could it be, in a place where no one could see you, how he’d have to cover your mouth to stop you from moaning and letting the others hear you, how he had to pull his dick out slowly and put it back in at the same speed because he knew that if he did it too hard, he’ll become a mess. But he didn’t give a fuck about those things now. He finally had you as he wanted you, why in the world would he care about all those stupid things now?

In fact, he encouraged you. “Don’t hide those pretty noises from me, baby” he panted. “Let me hear you”

He was drooling. He couldn’t help it. You tasted so deliciously sweet, and not because of the whip cream leftovers on his mouth. Yes, it did change things a bit but, he knew how to distinguish what was artificial and what was you. And he loved you. He loved how you couldn’t stop coating his lips with your juices, how your arousal mixed with his saliva and dripped down your ass and onto the sheets.

He never enjoyed a meal so much.

“Luke, wait” you say, pulling at his curls but he only leaned into you more, nose bumping against your clit as his tongue remains inside you. “Luke, I’m gonna cum, wait”

“Then cum” he lifted his head as fast as possible when he heard your words. “Do it, baby.” He noticed the way your thighs were shaking, soothing them down with the palm of his hands.

You shook your head. “No, no” you whine. “I wanna do it while you fuck me, Luke. Please? It’ll feel so good, please”

Luke was starstruck. Oh, how the tables have turned. And how he turned you around too.

You still laid in bed, faced down onto the mattress. Luke had placed a pillow under your hips, ass in the air as he placed himself over you, one knee on each side of your legs. The shaking on your legs had stopped, but Luke noticed how excited you were, how even though you were so fucked up, how a white and sticky mess covered your inner thighs and how your whole body was glistening with sweat, you still managed to crack a smile to yourself as you bit your thumb.

You were driving him crazy. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to be able to look at another’s girl’s face after you. You had him wrapped around your finger and you knew it, and you were just so mean about it, patiently waiting for him to fuck you as he pumps himself a few times, cock harder than it’ll ever be again and his tip leaking with precum.

He placed himself in your entrance, slowly rubbing it up and down your folds, and pushing himself into you at an agonizing pace. His tip was quickly covered in you, glistening with a mix of his saliva and your juices. He tried his best to not let any drop go to waste, getting absorbed by your sheets.

“You wanted my cock, didn’t you, doll?” he asks, pushing himself into you faster than you expected, a loud gasp scraping from your throat. “Then take it”

Your hands instantly reached for the sheets on your sides due to his fast pace, that took the air out of your lungs and started a racing heartbeat inside you, your knuckles quickly turning white as your nails digging into them, but Luke took them both, pushing your wrists together behind your back and holding them there. He used your hands to push himself deeper every time, rock harder, faster.

You were decent enough to muffle your moans in your sheets, but Luke could still hear them mixing with his owns; low grunts, loud gasps and hitched breaths. He had to close his eyes many times to prevent himself from cumming, because what a sight did he have under him.

Your cunt, shiny and coated with a white creamy consistent was sucking him in even when he pulled out. You were so greedy for him. Your walls tightened around him and wanted him to stay there, still, but the rocking of his hips and the gushing sounds of your pussy as he pounded into you was too good to let it pass.

He loved the sound. He loved how you were much wetter inside, making himself feel as if he was pounding into the tiniest and warmest hole ever, creaming his cock and not wanting for him to ever pull out and leave.

He suddenly lowered his body to yours, one hand letting go off his grip to pull your hair aside. “You say you’re mine tonight” he repeated your words in your ear. Your back arched unconsciously, ass slamming back into his cock. “Nah, baby. You’re mine forever”

He let go of your hands, only to place one hand on your throat, pulling you slightly back to him, his fingers squeezing on your sides. Your moans quickly became quite as you tried your best to breathe, but you loved it so much you didn’t even attempt to remove his hand from you.

“You’re all mine, yn” he panted. “Mine. This body,” he gripped on your waist with his free hand, “this pussy, those lips” a ghost of his thumb brushed your bottom lip, pulling down on it. “Mine. Mine. Mine”

He slammed his hips against you repeatedly. You didn’t know when exactly, but you came, and Luke felt it too when the consistent that ringed around the base of his cock became more and more noticeable. And it didn’t take him long to do the same.

He collapsed over your body as you finally gasped for air. You coughed slightly, tears forming on the corner of your eyes but quickly drying out.

“I’m sorry” he said, sliding off you and laying next to you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah-,” you laugh “Yeah, I’m-, wow”

That made him laugh. His arm wrapped around your waist as he placed a tender kiss on your cheek. His hands then started to run down your hair, all the way down to your lower back. You close your eyes at the feeling, only momentarily opening them to see something red in between your clothes, shining carelessly to the moonlight from your window.

You reach down to grab the empty can. “We should get another one of these” you say.

[suugarbabe]

Unexpected | m.r x reader

prompt: Hii! How are you? This is my first time sending an ask and I just wanted to say that I love your writings! May I ask for a enemies to lovers with Mattheo Riddle? The reader is from the golden trio and they get into an argument with a lot of chemistry and tension. Thank you and I'm sorry for my bad english.

maybe enemies to lovers, like they hate each other and then realize that they are soulmates and then have to figure out what to do. some angst but ends i fluff please 

word count: ~3.8k

warnings: slight angst feeling, fluff, e2l, soulmate trope, some heavy petting

an: so there's no argument like the prompt asks (sorry) but when I started writing it just kind of flowed out this way so hopefully it's still okay.

“Go on, show us again,” Ron Weasley was shaking a turkey leg in your general direction, asking to see the words that appeared on your arm this morning. In the wizarding world, on the day you were going to properly meet your soulmate, the first sentence they speak to you, excluding their name, will appear on your forearm in their handwriting. 

It was incredibly annoying to you that Ron and Hermione got this mess out of the way the first day on the bloody train. To your and Harry’s amusement, neither were originally excited about the match, but after the chaos that ensued for the four of you by the end of that year they were inseparable. Nothing brings two people closer than tragedy. 

Things got even more frustrating for you when Harry and Ginny realized they were soulmates, leaving you the lone wolf in your foursome. Entering your sixth year this year you were hopeful that maybe you would finally be able to find out who your soulmate was, roughly three fourths of those leave Hogwarts knowing who they’re intended to be with, and you would rather Avada Kadavera yourself then leave your seventh year soulmateless. 

You grabbed the sleeve of your jumper, tugging it up to your elbow, sticking your arm out in the middle of the table for your three friends to view. There on your arm read a singular sentence, do I intimidate you, love?

Hermione sat back on the bench, “His handwriting really is awful, whoever he is.” You scoffed at your friend, “Not exactly my biggest concern, Mione. More worried about why he thinks he would intimidate me? Who would even think that? By this point in our school life you’d think any of us were more intimidating than the majority of the student body.” 

“Yeah, except Slytherin,” Harry snorted, Ron following with his own round of laughter. But you weren’t laughing, you were looking at Hermione who was sporting the same grimace and worried eyes that you were sure your face looked like. 

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then looked at the two of you. “It was a joke, y/n/n,” Harry tried to ease the tension that was building. “Yeah, I mean, y’don't really think your soulmate might be…one of them,” Ron was anything but subtle with his tone of disgust, as well as his entire body turning around to face the Slytherin table. 

Ron’s actions didn’t go unnoticed by a particular group of Slytherin boys. “Staring problem, Weasley? Got a crush?” Malfoy shouted across the dining hall, earning laughs and teasing hollars from his friends. 

“Oi, Malfoy, got a present for you,” you stuck your hand in your school bag, pretending to roam around before pulling your hand back out and lifting it high in the air, giving Malfoy the middle finger. His face immediately turned into a scowl. The boy next to him, however, pretended to catch your gesture in the air and put it in his pocket, winking at you in the process. 

You rolled your eyes, turning to Hermione who had a look of disgust on her face, “Riddle’s ego really is massive isn't it.” All three of your friends' heads began to nod. “I swear if he didn’t verbalize how much he bloody hated us I would think he was flirting with you y/n/n.” 

“Shut it, Weasley, don’t you put that on me,” you pointed your finger at him, tone joking but words serious. He put his hands up in defense, laughing along with the rest of your friends as you all gathered your things and headed towards your first class. 

Unbeknownst to you, a similar conversation was being had at the Slytherin table. “Glad to see meeting your soulmate hasn’t deterred you from trying to flirt with anything that breathes,” Pansy took a sip of her pumpkin juice, teasing the curly haired boy across from her. 

“Dunno what you mean, Pans,” the dimples on Mattheo’s cheeks popping out as he smirked. 

“Show us your arm again, cousin,” Draco’s words causing everyone to look at Mattheo now. The younger boy scowled, rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt. There on his arm, in beautiful loopy script were the words you’ve got to be fucking joking.

Theo couldn’t help but laugh, “Don’t know if I’ve ever seen such a foul word in such pretty handwriting.” 

Mattheo rolled his eyes, pulling his sleeve back down, “Yeah, well let’s just hope the bird is someone I can tolerate.” 

You let out a long groan, hands rubbing up and down your face as you leaned your elbows on your knees . Hermione was sat next to you in the common room, rubbing up and down your back, “The day’s not over quite yet, y/n/n. It wouldn’t appear if you weren’t gonna meet them today.” 

“Yeah,” Ron put on his best attempt at an encouraging smile, “maybe they’re another Gryffindor and you’ll meet them before we go to bed.” Harry nodded next to him in agreement. 

You stood up, grabbing your jumper off the arm of the couch and throwing it on, “M’gonna go for a walk.” 

Hermione’s lips downturned, “It’s nearly curfew.” You sighed, looking over at Harry. “I’ll go get my cloak,” he sighed, standing and walking quickly to his dorm room. 

After Harry’s return you thanked him, spending an extra twenty minutes convincing Hermione that you would be the utmost cautious and affirmed to Ron that you would stash the cloak if you were to be caught. 

Now you were quietly climbing the stairs to the astronomy tower. When you got to the top, you did a quick look over the railing. With no sign of Filch anywhere you dropped the cloak, laying it on the floor so you didn’t have to sit on the bare ground. 

As you got comfortable you dug in your shirt, pulling out a spliff. Hermione would murder you if she found out you smoked, however the year you all had to study for your O.W.L’s, you were so stressed you ended up buying from Theo Nott.

He promised to keep it to himself and you promised it was a one time thing, but you found yourself buying from him every couple months. You weren't sure if she would be more disappointed in your smoking, or you interacting with someone in the forbidden Slytherin group.

You mumbled a short incendio before taking a long drag. You blew the smoke out slowly, watching it ripple through the air and up into the night sky. You looked up at the stars, knowing the day was likely to be over soon and wondering if you were the only witch that was destined to not run into their soulmate like everyone else. 

You were lost in your thoughts and self pity. So much so you didn’t even hear someone come up the tower steps until they hit the top. You scrambled to your feet, ready to cover yourself with the cloak when you realized it wasn’t Filch, but a boy instead. 

The dark of the night made it difficult for you to see exactly who it was at first, that and the fact that every time he took a step forward you seemed to take a step back until your back was against the stone wall. When he finally stepped into the light, your breath caught in your throat. Standing in front of you, signature smirk adoring his face was Mattheo Riddle. 

You stayed rigid against the wall as he got closer to you. His fingers brushed yours as he took the spliff, bringing it up to his lips and inhaling. His eyes never left yours as he turned his head slightly, blowing the smoke into the night. His eyes traveled over you, taking in your black sleep shorts and house jumper. When he looked at your face again he locked eyes with you, almost like he was trying to read what was going on in your brain. 

“Do I intimidate you, love?” The words seemed to leave his lips without a second thought and you felt like your chest was going to cave in. There was just no way, absolutely bloody not that he said those words, the words you had been anticipating someone to say all day. Him of all people that could’ve spoken them. 

He raised his eyebrows at you, clearly looking for you to answer. Instead of some sputtering response of nervousness like Mattheo was expecting, your face just dropped. 

“You’ve got to be fucking joking.” Mattheo’s face went white after you responded, and that was all the evidence you needed to confirm that Mattheo fucking Riddle was your soulmate. He hated you. You hated him. How could two people that despise each other be destined to be soulmates?

"What are you even doing up here?" You crossed your arms over your chest, sitting into your hip. His smirk only seemed to grow, "I think the better question is what are you doing up here, partaking in drugs no less? Little miss golden girl."

You rolled your eyes, "What's that supposed to mean, Riddle?" Mattheo's jaw clenched, "It's Mattheo. And you know what it means. Wonder what everyone would think if they knew little miss perfect liked to come up to the astronomy tower to get high."

"Why would anyone believe you over me?" You were acting a little cocky now, but Mattheo was right in the aspect that you and your friends were seen in an overall more positive light than he and his.

However the look on Mattheo's face made you think he knew something you didn't, "I guess I could just have your dealer tell everyone, or are you buying from someone besides Nott these days?"

He was irritating you on purpose now. You grabbed the spliff back from Mattheo, going to sit where you were before but now leaning your forehead against the railing, “This is got to be some kind of mistake.” 

Mattheo could only snicker as he went to sit next to you, hanging his arms over the raining as he looked over the grounds, “S’destiny love, no mistake about it.” 

“Thanks so much, you’re being really encouraging about this whole thing,” you rolled your eyes, holding your hand out to him. He took it from you, filling his lungs with smoke again, passing it back and forth throughout the conversation. 

Mattheo shrugged his shoulders, “At least we’re both fit.” You snorted at this, “Who said I thought you were fit?” He scoffed, “Please, I’ve seen the way you ogle me.” You found yourself laughing, a true full belly head thrown back laugh before you looked at him and he thought the smile you were wearing was actually kind of cute, “How would you know that unless you were ogling me, hmm?”

Mattheo opened his mouth to respond, but found he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse before you were speaking again. The sigh you let out let him know how stressed you really were, “Our friends are not going to like this.” 

He nodded, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he spoke, “Merlin, no. They’re going to bloody hate it. But s’not like it was really our choice.” You knew he was right, and you knew he was trying to be comforting, but the tone in his voice let you know that he was just as worried to let his group of friends know as much as you were. 

You opened your mouth to respond to him when you heard the all too familiar jingle of Mrs. Norris’ collar sounding like she was ascending the stairs. Your eyes grew wide as you and Mattheo both jumped to your feet. It looked like Mattheo is contemplating jumping over the tower railing when you grab his arm to push him flat against the stone wall. 

He looked at you with utter confusion as you grabbed the cloak before turning around and pushing your back flush against his chest. “What are you-”

“Shut it,” you cut him off, indicating to him to wrap his arms around your waist as you threw the cloak over the pair of you. As the cat walked on to the tower landing you felt Mattheo’s arms tighten around you, doing his best to pull you impossibly closer. 

He was decently taller than you, having to duck down slightly so the cloak covered you both properly. His face was tucked in close to your neck. His breath warm and tickling your skin as Filch followed after his beloved pet, glancing around for anything out of place. 

When he was satisfied, Filch turned around to leave, letting his cat lead the way. You waited a few beats, making sure they were nearly to the bottom of the staircase before pulling the cloak off the two of you and pushing Mattheo’s hands off of your body. 

“Thing comes in handy, that,” he pointed to the cloth in your hand. You chucked, “Yeah, m’sure your lot would get a lot less detentions if you had one.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, “Yeah, we can’t all be like the golden quartet.” 

You scoffed slightly at this as you headed down the stairs, Mattheo close behind you, “We didn’t give ourselves that nickname, you know.” He couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah but m’sure you all don’t mind it. Definitely gets you some favoritism.” 

You stopped at the end of the corridor, Mattheo running into your back at the action and cursing. You turned to face him, “You know, my friends and I have endured a hell of a lot of shite over the last couple years, maybe we deserve a little break when we’re actually able to do normal bloody teenage things.” 

As much as you were trying to be harsh with him, be the slightest bit intimidating, his height gave him all the advantage. Mattheo knew what you meant, what you were saying without saying the words themselves. “I’m not like him. Don’t clump me in your same category of hatred. He’s done things to me too,” his eyes reflected a bit of hurt as he spoke and you knew he was telling the truth. 

Everyone in school assumed Mattheo was just like his father, held the same ideals and wanted the same things for the wizarding world. The look you were seeing on his face told you otherwise. Your frustration quickly fizzled, instead turning into something closer to pity, “M’sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he deadpanned, “Let’s just get back to our common rooms.” You walked together in silence until you had no choice but to split off. You agreed to meet each other in the courtyard during lunch the next day and you were racking your brain on how you were going to break this news to Harry, Hermione and Ron.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. When you broke the news to your friends about who your soulmate ended up being it wasn’t exactly well received. Hermione was worried, but understanding of the fact that you had no choice in the matter. Harry was upset, but again was trying his best to be mature and said he wouldn’t interfere with you spending some time with Mattheo to get to know him better. Ron took it the worst, which you wished surprised you but he did have a flair for the dramatics.

You were first waiting for Mattheo on a bench in the courtyard, but you couldn’t stop your legs from bouncing, therefore you found a place beneath a tree, attempting to read the same three lines of a book Hermione had loaned you the other day. 

When Mattheo found you and finally sat down next to you, you shut your book immediately, letting out a sigh of relief, “Oh thank Godric, you’re here.” It didn’t go unnoticed by you the way a pair of dimples christened his cheeks, “Miss me already, pretty girl? S’barely been twelve hours.” 

You shoved his shoulder lightly, trying to resist the pink that tinted your cheeks at the nickname he used, “Not at all, I’ve been sitting here for the better part of twenty minutes, mind you. Thought maybe you decided to ditch me.” Mattheo shrugged, “M’always late. You’re gonna have to get used to that. And I would never ditch you, we’re soulmates, love. You’re stuck with me for life.” 

He had a childlike grin on his face when he said that latter part and you couldn’t help the slight notion of butterflies that seemed to flutter in your stomach or the smile that appeared on your face.

All last night you thought it was going to be difficult to fall for Mattheo, but maybe the universe knew something when it paired you two together. 

“So how did your friends take the news?” You tried to keep voice neutral, but you really were worried about their responses. Mattheo leaned back against the tree, “They were shocked for sure, Draco took it the hardest. He was more worried about having to spend more time with Potter than me being with you though. Told him that would probably be more rare than he anticipated. W’bout yours?”

You nodded, “Not as bad as I thought, actually. Mione was understanding, as always. Harry was actually pretty good about it, but very skeptical. Ron actually took it the worst, but he’s just protective. Basically like me brother.” 

“How d’ya mean?” 

You leaned back against the tree yourself, shoulder to shoulder now with Mattheo. You could feel the heat radiating off of him and you wondered if his skin was always warm to the touch, “Both my parents are aurors so they travel a lot. They didn’t think it was safe for me to go with them, so Ron’s mum offered for me to stay at theirs whenever it was needed. Turns out it was needed more times than not growing up.” 

Mattheo nodded, listening intently as you spoke. You both started asking surface questions about each other; favorite color (he said black), favorite hobby (quidditch), favorite class (free period). 

When both your friend groups came looking for you after lunch period Mattheo asked if you would go to Hogsmead with him over the weekend. You agreed, finding yourself wanting to get to know more about him. Over the next two months you went to Hogsmead with Mattheo at least one day during each weekend. 

You slowly learned that his favorite candy was fizzing whizbees, having to stop at Honeydukes every trip for him to grab some. You learned that he was actually very intelligent even though he tried to seem like he wasn't, as he was passing all of his classes even though he skipped half of them. You learned that even though Draco was older than him, he felt like an older brother to his cousin. And maybe your favorite thing that you learned, purely on accident, was that if you squeeze just above his hip that he was incredibly ticklish. 

Throughout all of this you still hadn’t kissed. You kept telling yourself (and your friends) that you didn’t want to, but the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself yearning for it. There were times of lingering touches; his hand on your lower back as he guided you into a building, his fingertips brushing yours as you walked, his leg pressing against yours while you sat next to each other in the courtyard or at the Three Broomsticks. 

Hermione, the ever observant friend that she was, noticed your shift in attitude towards Mattheo even before you did. So when she cornered you in the common room, demanding you tell her your true feelings it was almost a relief to let it all out. 

“I think I might actually like him, Mione. Like, I know that sounds like something an insane person would say, that they like Mattheo Riddle, like romantically, like someone who isn’t just some daft bimbo, but there's just so much more to him that he lets people see.”

Hermione can’t help but laugh, “I get what you mean. Harry and Ron are coming around, you know. They see how happy you look when you’re with him.” 

You tilt your head slightly at this, “What do you mean how happy I look?” 

Hermione just shakes her head with a smile, “Like you’re with your person.” You can’t escape the blush that creeps up your neck and covers your cheeks. Hermione’s giggling at you now, “Have you still not kissed him yet?” 

You scoffed, “Godric, no.” She pushed your shoulder playfully, “Well why not, y/n/n? Don’t you want to?” 

You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers, “I mean…I think so? But he just hasn’t really…gone for it, you know?” 

She nodded in solidarity, “Oh I know, trust me. I had to make the first move with Ronald. Maybe you have to do the same thing?” 

You contemplated her words. They invaded a space in your brain for the rest of the night, then the rest of the next morning, and through dinner, and even now as you stood leaning against the railing in the astronomy tower waiting for Mattheo to meet you. 

When you heard him coming up the steps you turned only to see him with the sweetest smile on his face. “Hey pretty girl,” he greeted as he enveloped you in a hug. “Hi, Teo,” you had donned the nickname on him your third or so time at Hogsmead. He gave you a good squeeze before letting go, his arms still lingering on your waist with yours around his neck, “What’d you wanna talk about?” 

His question was innocent, no implications in his voice that he expected anything beyond you wanting to see him. With Hermione’s advice in the back of your head you knew you needed to just act, as any more talking might lead to you psyching yourself out. 

You slid your hands down from his neck, grasping lightly to the lapel of his blazer. He raised his eyebrows slightly at the action, the smallest of smirks on his face. 

Without giving yourself time to overthink you pull him into you, lips crashing against yours. He’s shocked at first, but just for a moment before he responds, walking you back until you’re pressed against the stone wall.

One of his hands slides up your body, ghosting over your stomach and the valley of your breasts before settling lightly on your neck. The implication of the hand gesture makes you whimper slightly and Mattheo takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his hair, tugging lightly at the curls.

When he finally pulls away you find yourself chasing his lips and he smiled at the reaction. “I think I could kiss you forever,” his forehead is resting against yours, lips still so close you can feel his breath on your own. “Yeah?” you laugh a little, smile only increasing when he presses a kiss to your cheek, “Yeah, pretty girl. Forever.”

[urdreamydoodles]

hi hi! I love your writing and was wondering about what you’d think everyone’s reaction to a drunk us. Maybe we went drinking together and were a lightweight or something (idk 🥲) anyways thank youuuuu!!!

X-Men x Drunk!Reader (Part.1)

How they deal with their drunk s/o (Part.1)

A night out with your partner quickly turns wild as your tipsy self unleashes a little chaos around.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Bobby Drake, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Emma Frost, Raven Darkhölme & Laura Kinney

I was extremely inspired by this prompt, thank you <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan is absolutely used to handling chaos, but nothing quite prepares him for the brand of trouble you unleash when tipsy. When you’re several drinks in and decide it’s a good idea to start a spontaneous dance battle with some random patrons, Logan just sighs and crosses his arms, watching with a mix of amusement and exasperation. He’s tempted to pull you away but can’t deny how much he’s enjoying the show.

- He’s mostly unfazed when you start taking your "battle" a bit too far, challenging one particularly large guy to a dance-off. Logan leans against the bar with a smirk, ready to step in if things get out of hand. He figures you can handle yourself, but if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s already prepared to make his presence known.

- When you stumble over to him, grinning like you’ve just won a gold medal, he can't help but chuckle, pulling you close and whispering, “You’re a handful, y’know that?” But it’s clear he’s enjoying this different side of you, especially when you insist on dragging him onto the dance floor despite his protests. Logan grumbles but lets you lead, his usual stoicism softening just for you.

- It’s when you try to order “a round for everyone” on his tab that Logan decides enough is enough. He firmly wraps an arm around your waist and steers you away from the bar, muttering about how he’s “not made of money” as you laugh and lean into him. He’s torn between scolding you and letting out a laugh of his own.

- On the walk home, you ramble about the night, sharing exaggerated stories and embellishments that make Logan roll his eyes but secretly cherish every word. Despite his gruff exterior, he listens to every detail, finding the way you see the world endlessly entertaining and a perfect counterbalance to his own guarded nature.

- By the time you’re back, Logan’s more than happy to tuck you in, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You’re finally starting to settle, mumbling something about how much fun you had with him. He just smiles, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re trouble,” he murmurs, though you can hear the affection in his voice. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy absolutely thrives on chaos, and he’s more than ready to encourage it the moment he sees you’ve had a few drinks. When you suddenly decide it’s a great idea to “borrow” someone’s hat and start spinning it around like a magician, Remy’s right there, egging you on with a wicked grin and suggesting even wilder antics. “Go on, chérie, show ‘em what you got.”

- He’s delighted when you turn to him with that mischievous sparkle in your eye, pulling him into your impromptu show. You two quickly become the center of attention as he plays along, letting you use his trench coat for added flair while he flourishes a deck of cards with his signature charm, drawing oohs and ahhs from the crowd.

- When you start loudly declaring that Remy’s “the best-looking man in the room,” he just smirks and pulls you close, whispering, “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know, ma belle.” You can tell he’s absolutely eating up every bit of attention, and he makes sure to dip you dramatically on the dance floor, laughing along with you.

- Things escalate when you decide to start a card game with some nearby strangers, with Remy’s deck, of course. You might be a little hazy on the rules, but he’s having too much fun watching you bluff your way through. The two of you make a formidable (if slightly unorthodox) team, charming everyone at the table with your combined wit and unpredictability.

- Remy makes sure to keep you steady when you start wobbling a bit, an arm always draped around your shoulders as he guides you from one bit of chaos to the next. He’s vigilant without being obvious, letting you have your fun while ensuring no one gets too handsy or tries to take advantage of your state.

- When the night winds down, he insists on carrying you back if you’re stumbling, laughing when you protest that you can walk just fine. Once home, he lays you on the bed with exaggerated gentleness, grinning down at you with that signature smirk of his. “Ma belle, you certainly know how t’ keep things interestin’,” he whispers before placing a soft kiss on your hand. For Remy, nights like this with you are what make life exciting.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt is simultaneously amused and a bit alarmed when he realizes you’re tipsy. He’s not used to you being so bold, so when you start loudly complimenting him and declaring him “the handsomest guy in the room,” his cheeks turn a dark shade of blue. He tries to calm you down, but you’re too busy grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the dance floor.

- At first, Kurt’s hesitant to join you, worried that his appearance might draw stares. But you’re so unbothered and so full of joy that he can’t help but relax, letting you lead him. His movements are clumsy but endearing, and he laughs along with you, his tail swishing in rhythm as he finally lets go of his worries, at least for tonight.

- When you start insisting on “showing everyone his bamf trick,” Kurt chuckles nervously, trying to talk you out of it. But you’re persistent, so he finally gives in, teleporting the two of you across the room in a puff of smoke. Your delighted laughter is infectious, and he starts teleporting you both to random spots around the club, filling the room with giggles and gasps from onlookers.

- Eventually, you try to climb up on a table to make an “important announcement,” and Kurt quickly teleports you back down before you can get too carried away. He’s laughing as he steadies you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes. “Mein liebe, maybe we should stick to safer activities, ja?” he teases, holding your hands firmly in his.

- As the night goes on, Kurt never strays far from your side. He’s a mixture of amused, charmed, and just a little bit flustered by your antics, but he’s also keenly aware of the attention you’re drawing. When anyone tries to get a little too close, he’ll bamf in between you and them, a protective look on his face as he politely but firmly keeps them at bay.

- Once you’re back home, he’s the sweetest caretaker, making sure you’re comfortable and tucking you in with a gentle smile. He holds your hand as you drift off, murmuring softly in German about how lucky he is to have someone as vibrant and fearless as you in his life. Even in your chaotic moments, Kurt’s love for you only grows stronger.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott is a bit hesitant when he notices you’ve had a few too many drinks, but he’s dedicated to making sure you’re safe and enjoying yourself. When you start insisting on trying to wear his visor and “see the world through his eyes,” he’s both flustered and exasperated, gently guiding your hands away with a laugh. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want that,” he says, trying to keep a straight face as you pout.

- You surprise him by dragging him onto the dance floor, and Scott, ever the responsible one, initially tries to decline. But seeing you so excited and insistent, he finally gives in. He might be awkward at first, but he quickly adjusts to your rhythm, even pulling you close and twirling you in an attempt to match your enthusiasm.

- When you declare loudly to a few nearby patrons that Scott Summers is “the best and most handsome leader,” he can’t help but blush. He’s clearly flattered and a bit embarrassed by the attention, but he just nods, smiling shyly, as you shower him with compliments. He feels oddly proud of your open affection, even if he’s a little overwhelmed by it.

- Scott keeps a close eye on you throughout the night, gently steering you away from any potential trouble or prying eyes. When someone bumps into you, causing you to stumble, he’s right there to steady you, one hand firmly on your waist. He’s the picture of a protective boyfriend, subtly keeping others at bay while still letting you enjoy yourself.

- When you start to get a little too loud and insist on “making a toast to the greatest mutant leader ever,” Scott decides it’s probably time to get you home. He chuckles softly, catching your hand and guiding you out of the club, all the while listening to your increasingly dramatic proclamations of love and admiration. He’s touched by it all, even if he won’t admit it.

- Back home, Scott helps you settle in, making sure you’re comfortable and well-hydrated. He sits by your side, holding your hand as you drowsily tell him how much you love him. Scott just smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, even when you’re a handful,” he murmurs, content to stay by your side until you fall asleep.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean is equal parts entertained and concerned when she realizes you’re tipsy. She’s usually the responsible one, but she can’t help but laugh when you start slurring your words and calling her your “favorite telepathic goddess.” Jean blushes, clearly flattered by your adoration, and gently shushes you, though she’s clearly enjoying every second of it.

- When you start dancing wildly, Jean initially tries to calm you down, worried about drawing attention. But seeing the joy in your eyes, she eventually lets her guard down and joins you, holding your hands and spinning you around as you laugh. She’s surprisingly graceful and a fantastic dancer, easily matching your energy and guiding you through the moves.

- At one point, you insist that you and Jean “show off your telepathic connection” to the crowd. Jean laughs, gently steering you away from the idea. Instead, she subtly uses her powers to make sure you don’t stumble, mentally guiding you to stay upright and steady. Her subtle help goes unnoticed by you, but she’s just relieved to see you having fun.

- Jean finds herself laughing even more when you start a friendly debate with a nearby stranger about the “genius” of her red hair. She can’t believe how fiercely you’re defending her beauty, even as you insist it’s a “scientific fact” that she’s the most gorgeous woman in the room. Jean’s cheeks flush, and she wraps an arm around your waist, whispering, “You’re adorable, you know that?”

- When you start to get tired, Jean’s the perfect caretaker, gently guiding you out of the bustling club. She makes sure you’re cozy, even grabbing her own jacket to drape over your shoulders. She keeps a hand on you the entire way home, reassuring you and quietly laughing at your sleepy, affectionate murmurs.

- Once back, Jean gets you settled on the couch, brushing stray hair out of your face with the softest smile. You reach for her hand, mumbling something about how lucky you are to have her. She blushes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m the lucky one,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as she sits by your side until you drift off.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo is incredibly amused when she realizes you’re tipsy; she’s rarely seen this side of you, and she finds it adorable. When you start calling her your “queen of the skies” and insisting she “make it rain just for fun,” she laughs and gently pats your cheek, reminding you that some powers are best kept for emergencies.

- You grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor, much to her surprise. Ororo might be a graceful and poised leader, but she has a playful side too. She lets you lead, laughing as you spin her around, her silver hair flowing around her as she dances with surprising ease. It’s a rare sight, and you can tell she’s having fun, loosening up just for you.

- When you start loudly telling everyone nearby that “Ororo is the most powerful woman in the world,” she tries to shush you, laughing softly. She’s both flattered and slightly embarrassed by the attention, but she allows you to bask in her presence. She’ll gently tease you for your enthusiasm, a fond look in her eyes as she watches you defend her honor.

- Ororo’s always watching out for you, subtly guiding you away from any potential trouble. If you start to stumble or look a little too wobbly, she’s right there to steady you, her hand on your shoulder and a calm smile on her face. She finds a certain joy in taking care of you, grateful for this softer side of your relationship.

- At one point, you try to “command the winds” like her, playfully imitating her powers. Ororo laughs, incredibly entertained by your antics. She doesn’t mind the teasing, and she even indulges you by summoning a soft breeze that ruffles your hair, making you gasp in delight. “See? The winds listen to you too,” she jokes with a wink.

- When you’re finally ready to head home, Ororo makes sure you’re comfortable, holding your hand and gently brushing your cheek as you murmur about how amazing she is. She chuckles softly, telling you stories of her adventures to help you relax. Once home, she tucks you in with a gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Sleep well, my love,” as she watches over you, content and deeply in love.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue is equal parts amused and nervous as she watches you go from a few drinks to a bit too tipsy. You start telling her she’s “the prettiest southern belle ever,” and she can’t help but blush and laugh, giving you a playful shove. But there’s a touch of worry in her eyes—she’s protective and feels a need to make sure you’re okay.

- When you try to dance with her, Rogue hesitates, but your enthusiasm is contagious. She ends up joining you, making sure to keep her gloved hands carefully in place. She’s gentle but full of energy, matching your moves while constantly keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t trip over your own feet. Her laughter is light and warm, and she looks almost carefree.

- You start raving about how amazing Rogue is, telling random people nearby how she’s “a hero who can’t even touch people, but still manages to save the world.” She gets a bit flustered and shy, trying to hush you with a soft “sugar, that’s enough,” but the pride in her eyes is unmistakable. No one’s ever praised her like that before, and it means a lot.

- When someone accidentally bumps into you, and you look about ready to start a tipsy argument, Rogue steps in with a charming Southern drawl and defuses the situation. She’s got a sweet, calming presence when she wants to, and she manages to steer you away with ease, laughing about it afterward while holding your arm gently.

- Rogue knows when you’re reaching your limit and insists on taking you home, using a soft but firm tone to make sure you listen. She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and seeing you a bit out of it brings out her nurturing side. “Alright, sugar, let’s get ya back before you do somethin’ we’ll both regret,” she says, guiding you with a patient smile.

- Once home, she sits with you, listening as you tell her how much you love her and appreciate her strength. Rogue’s heart swells with emotion, and she gently brushes a gloved hand along your cheek. “You’re somethin’ special, darlin’,” she murmurs, her voice warm and full of affection, staying with you until you’re sound asleep.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is a bit bemused but mostly wary when he notices you’re getting tipsy. He’s used to maintaining control in every situation, and your loosened inhibitions make him a bit nervous. But when you start complimenting his intelligence and calling him “the smartest, most powerful man in the room,” he lets a rare smile slip, finding your praise amusing.

- You start dragging him around, pointing at various metallic objects in the bar and insisting he show off his powers. He rolls his eyes at first, but he eventually indulges you by making a few small metallic items hover, just to see the joy on your face. Erik isn’t one to perform tricks, but he finds himself unable to say no to you.

- When you loudly declare that “Magneto is the future of mutantkind,” he tries to quiet you, but he’s clearly flattered by your support. He’s a man who’s used to admiration but doesn’t often receive it so openly. There’s a softness in his eyes as he places a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to your seat with a chuckle.

- Erik stays close to you, watching with an amused smile as you stumble through conversations and rant about how incredible he is. He’s fiercely protective, stepping in if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s calm, composed, and carries an air of authority that subtly warns others not to mess with you.

- At one point, you try to mimic his deep, imposing voice, quoting some of his more famous speeches. He’s visibly amused, and even a bit impressed at how well you remember his words. Erik finds your respect for his ideals endearing, and he places a gentle hand on your back, chuckling as he listens to your tipsy impression.

- When it’s time to leave, he’s entirely in control, guiding you out with a strong arm around your shoulders. Once home, Erik sits with you, listening as you share your adoration for him. He’s not the most openly affectionate man, but he reaches out, gently squeezing your hand as he says, “Your loyalty is a rare gift, and I don’t take it lightly.” He stays by your side, quietly protective, until you’re resting peacefully.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles is endlessly patient as you start to get a little tipsy, a gentle smile on his face as you go from poised to adorably unfiltered. When you begin praising his brilliance and calling him “the kindest genius in the world,” he chuckles, incredibly touched. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teases, his eyes warm with affection.

- You insist that he shows off his powers, and Charles tries to decline, but your insistence eventually makes him give in. He subtly uses his telepathy to give you an image of your favorite place, a soothing mental picture that instantly makes you smile. He finds joy in seeing you happy, and he uses his powers in the gentlest, most comforting way.

- Charles is protective and attentive, ensuring you’re comfortable and not getting yourself into any trouble. When you loudly declare your love for him in front of others, he’s both embarrassed and deeply moved, his cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re quite the charmer tonight,” he whispers, his voice filled with warmth as he gently holds your hand.

- When someone tries to join your conversation, and you’re too tipsy to notice their intentions, Charles politely but firmly steps in, his calm authority enough to send them on their way. He might be gentle, but he can be firm when needed, and he’s especially vigilant when it comes to keeping you safe.

- You start telling Charles that he’s the greatest leader mutantkind could ever ask for, and he’s genuinely humbled, listening with a fond smile as you praise his wisdom and kindness. He doesn’t always let himself accept such compliments, but coming from you, they mean the world to him, and he quietly thanks you with a soft, appreciative kiss on your hand.

- When it’s time to leave, he makes sure you’re steady, guiding you with gentle hands and a reassuring presence. Back home, he helps you get comfortable, listening as you continue to express your admiration for him. Charles smiles, stroking your hand and murmuring, “I’m grateful for your support more than you know.” He stays by your side, his calm and comforting presence grounding you until you drift off to sleep.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- Bobby finds your drunken antics both hilarious and endearing. As the night progresses, you start comparing him to a “walking snow cone” and insisting that he make ice sculptures for you on demand. Bobby, always up for a bit of fun, humors you by creating little ice animals in the palm of his hand, laughing as your eyes light up in delight.

- When you slip on an ice patch he accidentally created, Bobby quickly catches you, apologizing profusely while chuckling. You start calling him your “snow prince” and playfully berate him for “making the world slippery.” He just grins, his hold on you steady, clearly enjoying your tipsy declarations and the way you cling to him.

- You insist on taking selfies with him, urging him to freeze up cute little props for the photos. Bobby goes all out, conjuring up ice hats, snowflake glasses, and even a tiny ice crown for you. By the end, your phone is full of adorable photos of the two of you laughing and posing together.

- When you go off on a tangent, telling the bartender and anyone nearby how incredible Bobby is, he gets a bit bashful but loves every second. Bobby has always loved being the center of attention, but hearing you proudly gush about him has him smiling like a fool. He playfully nudges you, saying, “Keep it coming, babe; I don’t hear this enough!”

- When you get a bit too warm in the crowded room, Bobby uses his powers to create a gentle, cool breeze just for you. You giggle and thank him, calling him your “personal A/C,” and he chuckles, wrapping his arm around you and playfully cooling you down whenever you request it.

- By the end of the night, Bobby is happily holding you up, guiding you home with an arm around your shoulders. He listens as you continue to talk about how wonderful he is, and he just grins, giving you a quick, frosty kiss on the forehead. “You’re pretty amazing yourself,” he says, staying with you until you’re safely tucked in and fast asleep.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- Wanda is amused by how talkative and unfiltered you get when you’re drunk. She’s often quiet and reserved herself, so seeing you let loose makes her smile. You start rambling about how “beautiful and powerful” she is, and she blushes, trying to brush it off, but your sincerity warms her heart.

- When you ask her to use her powers to make things “magical,” Wanda gently warns you, not wanting to attract too much attention. But when she sees the hopeful look in your eyes, she can’t resist. With a subtle flick of her fingers, she makes tiny red sparks dance in the air around you, creating a little “magic show” that leaves you giggling with joy.

- At one point, you try to mimic her iconic hand gestures, waving your hands around dramatically as if casting a spell. Wanda laughs softly, guiding your hands in the proper motions. “Like this, darling,” she murmurs, her fingers intertwined with yours as she playfully shows you her “magic moves.”

- When someone bumps into you a bit too roughly, Wanda steps forward, a protective fire in her eyes. Though she doesn’t escalate the situation, there’s a warning in her gaze that makes the person quickly apologize. She holds you close, whispering, “You’re safe with me,” her voice soothing and reassuring.

- As the night goes on, you keep insisting that Wanda is “the most powerful and amazing person ever,” and she laughs, flattered by your drunken praise. “You might be a little biased,” she teases, but there’s a soft blush on her cheeks, and you can tell she’s deeply touched by your admiration.

- When it’s time to go home, Wanda wraps an arm around you, using a bit of her magic to guide you gently so you don’t stumble. Once you’re home, she stays with you, listening as you continue to talk about how much you adore her. She strokes your hair and whispers, “You mean the world to me too,” staying by your side until you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro finds your drunken state absolutely hilarious, especially when you start trying to mimic his super-speed by running around. He quickly catches you each time, his laughter filling the air as he playfully warns you that “You’re not quite fast enough, babe!”

- You start challenging him to races, even though you know he’ll win. Pietro humors you, letting you “win” a couple of times, but eventually, he zips past you with a playful smirk. “Better luck next time!” he teases, only to scoop you up and spin you around when you pout about losing.

- When you get tired, Pietro is immediately by your side, lifting you into his arms without a second thought. You giggle and tell him he’s “better than a rollercoaster,” and he laughs, racing around just to hear your delighted squeals. He loves seeing you happy and will do anything to keep you smiling.

- When someone looks at you a bit too long for Pietro’s liking, he’s instantly protective, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and making it very clear that you’re his. He glares at the person until they look away, then turns back to you with a soft smile, his fingers brushing your cheek affectionately.

- You start bragging to strangers about Pietro’s speed, telling them he’s “the fastest guy in the world,” and Pietro just laughs, loving how proud you are of him. “Keep it up, and I’ll have to show off even more,” he says, giving you a cheeky wink as he zips around the room, just to impress you.

- By the end of the night, he’s carrying you home, his arms strong and steady around you as he runs. You cling to him, your arms wrapped around his neck, and he smiles, whispering, “I’ve got you, always.” Once you’re home, Pietro stays by your side, listening as you drift off, mumbling about how much you love him. He kisses your forehead, whispering, “Love you too, my slowpoke.”

Emma Frost aka. The White Queen

- Emma finds your drunken state absolutely fascinating, especially when you become more playful and bold. Normally calm and reserved, you start teasing her about her “icy” demeanor, and she’s amused, a rare smirk on her face as she listens to you try to “crack” her tough exterior. She’s secretly charmed by your confidence.

- When you dramatically declare that she’s “the most beautiful woman in the world,” Emma rolls her eyes with a soft laugh but secretly enjoys every word. She’s used to compliments, but something about hearing them from you, even in your tipsy state, makes her feel genuinely adored. She’ll brush a hand over your cheek, murmuring, “Careful with those compliments, darling—you’re liable to spoil me.”

- As the night progresses, you start showing off for her, attempting overly elaborate gestures and winking clumsily. Emma finds your efforts hilarious but still looks at you with genuine affection. Her fingers brush yours, and she lets herself be a bit softer with you, impressed by your uninhibited side.

- When someone gives you a bit too much attention, Emma is instantly protective. She’ll stand close to you, radiating that commanding aura, and make it clear that you’re taken. She’ll give you a subtle nod, as if to say, “Don’t worry—I’ve got you,” and her calm confidence reassures you instantly.

- You get a little bolder as the night goes on, playfully daring her to dance or try something “un-Emma-like.” Amused and intrigued, she might indulge you, swaying slightly to the music or even placing your hand in hers for a private moment. She’ll laugh, saying, “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight,” though you can tell she’s enjoying herself.

- When it’s time to leave, Emma makes sure you’re steady, her arm around your waist as she guides you to the car. She’ll whisper little reassurances, telling you how much she appreciates this rare, open side of you. Once home, she’ll help you settle in, her voice soft and reassuring, reminding you that she’s there for you completely.

Raven Darkhölme aka. Mystique

- Mystique is both amused and intrigued by your drunken state. Normally guarded, you become surprisingly talkative, telling her all sorts of stories. She listens with a raised eyebrow, smirking at your candidness. “So, this is what I miss when you’re sober?” she’ll tease, clearly enjoying this rare glimpse into your unfiltered thoughts.

- You keep reaching out to touch her, fascinated by her blue skin and how it shifts under your fingers. Mystique finds this endearing, gently teasing you but allowing you to trace her features. She’s rarely this vulnerable, but your innocent curiosity brings out a softer side, and she even leans into your touch.

- When you start rambling about how “amazing” and “mysterious” she is, Mystique just chuckles, a rare, genuine smile crossing her face. Normally, she brushes off praise, but hearing it from you makes her feel appreciated in a way she’s not used to. She might even mutter, “Careful, or I’ll start believing you.”

- As the night goes on, you get into a bit of mischief together, with Mystique indulging your chaotic ideas. She’ll shift into different forms to amuse you, and you giggle every time she surprises you with a new face. Her laughter is warm and genuine, her guard completely down as she shares these fun moments with you.

- If anyone even looks at you the wrong way, Mystique’s protective instincts kick in. She’ll throw a deadly glare their way, making it very clear that you’re off-limits. Her fierce loyalty to you is both comforting and thrilling, and you find yourself feeling safe and cherished in her presence.

- When it’s time to go, she keeps an arm around you, guiding you back with quiet reassurances. She murmurs little words of comfort, her voice softer than usual, and even hums a low melody to keep you calm. Once home, she stays by your side, brushing your hair back and promising, “I’m here, always.”

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- Laura is a bit confused by your drunken antics, as she’s not exactly used to seeing you so uninhibited. She watches with curiosity and maybe a little amusement as you sway around, stumbling slightly. Laura finds herself oddly charmed by this side of you, even if she’s unsure how to respond at first.

- You keep reaching out to hold her hand or touch her arm, and though Laura is usually reserved, she lets you. Your affection surprises her, but she’s not one to pull away, especially with you. When you look up at her with that tipsy grin, she can’t help the tiny smile that breaks through her usual stoic expression.

- When you start playfully teasing her, calling her “your fierce protector” and joking about her serious demeanor, Laura is both amused and a bit flustered. She’s never had someone look at her like you do, with so much warmth and admiration, and your words mean more to her than she’ll let on.

- As the night goes on, Laura gets a bit protective. If you start wandering or leaning too close to others, she’ll gently pull you back, her grip steady but careful. “Stay close,” she’ll murmur, her voice soft but firm, a little blush on her cheeks as she realizes just how much she likes keeping you safe.

- You keep talking about how “amazing” she is, going on and on about her strength, courage, and loyalty. Laura is taken aback, not used to hearing such open admiration, but she listens quietly, her heart swelling with pride. She doesn’t say much, but her hand stays in yours, squeezing gently whenever you look her way.

- By the end of the night, she’s helping you home, a quiet but steady presence by your side. Laura makes sure you’re comfortable, brushing hair from your face as you drift off. Before leaving, she murmurs, “I’ll always keep you safe,” her voice barely a whisper. She stays nearby, her protective instincts on high, ensuring you’re well cared for as you sleep.

[millyhelp]

Lock the door.

DILF!Dick Grayson x wife!fem!reader

Request: hiii!! I love ur work for dick soooo much I'm actually foaming at the mouth😵‍💫 I was wondering if u could do these prompts 35. “Ooh, you’re not wearing any underwear. Trying to tell me something?” 21. “Go and lock the door for me. I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.” with dilf!dick fucking his wife after putting their kid to sleep. thank you!!

warnings: boobsmilk kink!, breeding kink!, p in v sex, Dick called the reader "mama". Johnny is 2yo here. 18+ minors dni!

notes: I had to do this as a request and not just as a prompt! I just loved the idea!!

Taglist: @harleycao , @spectr3inl0ve , @sparklytoaster

You and Dick were putting Johnny to sleep. Today was one of the rare occasions where Dick arrived home from the station early and spent some extra time with Johnny and you.

“Lavenders blue, dilly, dilly. Lavender's green. When you are king, dilly, dilly. I shall be queen…” Your voice sounded sweet throughout the room, making the little boy sleep.

Dick watched the two of you closely with a smile on his face, he felt like the most accomplished man in the world. His eyes couldn't help but notice the blue pajamas hugging your body. He sighed and got up slowly so as not to wake Johnny and walked over to you on the other side of the boy's small bed. Dick needs you tonight.

He extended a hand to you and before you took it, you kissed Johonny's forehead and turned off the lamp. Taking Dick's hand, he guides you out of Johnny's room and closes the door silently.

The hand before yours takes place on your waist and guides you to the bedroom. Dick's bare chest presses into your back as the two of you walk to your shared bedroom.

Upon arriving at the bedroom, Dick plants a kiss on your neck and runs his nose along the extension shortly after.

“My favorite..." He finally said something and his voice sounded hoarse and low. You smiled and turned to look at him.

"Yes, the Chanel you gave me for my birthday." You giggled. Dick always loved the smell of perfume on you, and of course, you only wore this one for him. “I missed you…”

Dick’s hands went directly to your waist again, this time, pulling you into him.

“Yeah?...” He kissed your lips “Did my beautiful wife miss me?”

“Mhm” You looked into the intense blue eyes.

“And how much did she missed me?..." Dick's eyes looked at your mouth and your eyes waiting for a response.

“Why don't you find out?" You looked at his lips.

Dick attacked your lips in a needy way. His tongue dancing next to yours brought whimpers from your throat.

Dick's hands began to roam your body, squeezing, pinching and pulling. At some point he puts both hands on your ass inside your little pajama shorts.

“Ooh, you’re not wearing any underwear.” His mouth was swollen from the kiss. He looked into her eyes, the pupils taking over the blue. “Trying to tell me something?”

“Yes... I told you to find out how much I missed you." Your fingers played with the hair on the back of his neck. "Does that answer your question?"

"Oh yes, that does." He nodded his head with a smile. Still with his hands on your ass, he pulls you up to give you momentum so you can jump onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his hips.

He carried you to the bed and laid you down on it. Kisses were planted on your neck. Nimble fingers began to unbutton your pajama shirt so he could have more access to your collarbone.

“Oh God!” Dick groaned "No bra? My prayers have been answered."

You gave a small laugh. Dick loved your breasts, especially because you still breastfed Johnny sometimes. The little boy was only two years old and only nursed in the afternoon, but today, for some reason, Johnny didn't want to.

Your breasts were swollen and round from the milk. Dick could swear he felt drool run down the corner of his lip.

“Can I?” Dick looked into your eyes. His eyes sparkled with lust and anticipation.

When you nodded, Dick's lips closed around your left breast. The contact of his lips on your sensitive nipple made you moan.

Sucking the milk and licking the tip of your nipple, Dick felt high and very horny. His fingers guided themselves inside your pajama shorts.

He ran his fingers through her wet folds and moaned with his mouth on her nipple. Another whimper was heard from you.

“Hmm I need to fuck you!” He said after releasing your nipple with a 'pop' of his mouth. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip. The scene was totally sexy. “Go and lock the door for me. I don’t want to Johnny walk in while I’m balls deep.”

You nodded and stood up. Dick slapped your ass as you went to lock the bedroom door.

"My wife is so sexy..." Dick looked at you as if he was going to fuck you, and he really was.

Walking back to him. Dick pulls on his pajama button-down shirt making them pop.

“It's okay, mama. I can give you another one.” And he was really going to give you another one, but before that, his lips went towards your right breast. This one he hadn't attacked yet.

Dick squeezed and the pressure of the milk in his mouth was greater. He moaned at the sensation. You could feel Dick's cock poking your thigh through the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Dick, please.” You sighed. “I need you…”

Licking your nipple, he pulls away from your breast.

“Needing me, mama? Where do you need me?”

“Inside. I need you Inside.” Your hand passed over Dick's hard, needy cock. He trembled under your touch.

“Can you ride me? Huh?” Dick pulled up his sweatpants. He had no underwear on, which made his hard and heavy dick hit his stomach as soon as it was freed.

You nodded and took off your shorts. Straddling his lap, he fit the tip into your wet folds.

You slowly went down on his length. Dick and you always fit together. It was as if he was tailor-made just for you. His big cock, from the first time together, always filled you up.

A moan left your lips and Dick returned his attention to your breasts.

You started to move up, down and roll on top of Dick's cock. With one hand on your hip and the other on your other breast, Dick helped you.

"I'm going to keep you with my children... do you know why?" He grunted and looked into your eyes as you moved up and down. You shook your head. “So I can continue to suck that sweet milk of yours! You are so good to me, mama! So good!"

You moaned at his words. Dick could only imagine your belly being round and big again. You being sensitive and very horny during pregnancy. He wants it all again.

With his hands on either side of your hips, Dick helped you bounce faster on his dick. He felt you tighten more and more around him, the tip hitting the bottom of your uterus.

"Dick! Oh-Mhmmm!" You're close and Dick was too. Dick's hands still tightened on his hips.

“Close?” He asks and you respond with a whimper. “Good…”

Dick takes his hands to your boxes and he stands up with his dick still inside you. The grip on your thighs is firm.

He starts fucking you standing up. You weren't supported by anything other than Dick's strong grip on your thighs.

Deep and quick thrusts made wet noises thanks to the new position.

"I'm going to fill you with my children. Do you like how that sounds?" Dick grunted looking at your face which was red and sweaty. "Are you close, mama? I know you are. Cum for me! Let me feel you!"

Dick's pelvis hit her clitoris, causing friction. Your orgasm exploded hard and Dick came to you with grunts.

He sat back down while he still had his cock inside you. Your face rested between his neck and his thumb stroked your back to calm the spasms of your orgasm.

"You really missed me, mama." Dick whispered and you let out a small laugh.

“I did, and-”

Knock knock

A small knock on the door was heard, and soon after a crying voice.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Johnny's voice echoed behind the door.

“Fuck…” Dick sighed "I'll sort this out, lay in bed and I'll come clean you up as soon as I'm done with Johnny."

Dick pulled out of you making you shudder and he put his sweatpants back on.

In the end, Johnny just woke up startled by Mommy's screams. Dick took a while to convince the little boy that his mother was sleeping and that it was all his dreams. The two-year-old boy didn't stay long and fell asleep in Dick's arms.

Poor Johnny.

HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

I'm slowly coming back heheheh

[not-neverland06]

Hii ! I was hoping you could do Logan x Reader where all the teachers go to a club, and the Reader starts dancing with Storm and Jean while Logan is sitting on a couch, looking at her. They both have a crush on each other, but they don't know it, so when the Reader notices Logan staring at her, she gets shy and decides to go get a drink. When she got her drink, a guy starts flirting with her, and Logan obviously sees it. he gets jealous and walks up to the guy telling him to leave her alone. After they talk for a bit, the Reader accidentally confesses and Logan kisses her. this ends up in a private room with Logan fucking her as he always wanted. I know this is a long request and I'm sorry for that, bue I'm a writer myself, so I already had develop this bit of the story in my head. I completely understand if you don't want to do it. Hope you have an awesome day !!🤗❤️ Love your writing btw

a/n: I loved this prompt so much, did switch it up a bit bc I faced a bit of writer's block trying to flesh this out!! (and if I said I was listening to Thong Song while writing this, what then?)

18+ MDNI (fucking in a club bathroom, if that's not your thing, move on out)

Logan rummages around somewhere behind you, digging through the cabinets and moving everything around. The longer he searches, the more confused you grow. Your brows furrow as he cusses to himself.

There’s a low grunt of frustration as Logan rounds the kitchen island to glare at you. His face is screwed up in anger that seems to be misdirected towards you. You give him an awkward look, “Uh, hi?”

“He stole my booze,” he responds shortly and without explanation. You shake your head in confusion as the dots slowly connect. A small smile curls up on your lips but the glare he gives you makes it quickly drop. 

“Well, you know Charles' rules about it,” you tell him flippantly. Logan huffs and shoves away from the counter. He turns back to the fridge, destroying the organizational system as he continues his search. You roll your eyes, eating your food and watching him with a bored expression. 

Jean walks just as he really begins to work himself up. Her face pinches in distaste, catching on to the root of his anger quicker than you had. She looks at you with a small smirk. “Charles?”

“Yep," You answer, eyes still trained on him. He finally gives up the futile search, moving to stand beside you. Your eyes widen and you try not to physically react to his proximity. It’s an everyday struggle to remain calm around him. You’re desperately trying to keep a cool girl persona but you don’t think it's working. 

You’re pretty sure he sees right through your pathetic attempts at nonchalance every time you two are paired on a mission. Jean notices the look on your face and smiles slightly. “The rest of us are thinking of going out tonight.”

It's not an offer with her, more of a demand for the two least sociable members of the team. She gives you both expectant looks, ignoring the way you minutely shake your head in disapproval at the idea of going out.

“Pass,” Logan grunts. He steps away from you, making for the kitchen door. Jean quickly steps in front of him, firmly placing her hand on his chest and giving him a stern look.

You feel like you're missing something as they silently converse with tense looks and aggressive eye motions towards you. You might be worried they're flirting if it weren't for how fed up they both look right now with one another.

Your brows furrow in confusion and it only worsens when Logan lets out an aggrieved huff. “Fine. I’ll come.” He gives Jean a thin smile, “Happy?” 

She releases him and moves out of the way with a smug look. “Very. You’ll thank me, by the way.” She says to his retreating back, ignoring whatever he mutters back to her.

You’re completely lost about what that was but don't have much time to process it before Jean turns her attention to you. You already know what she wants and you immediately shake your head. “No, nope, you know I don’t like going out.” Jean smiles at you, but you know she’s just pretending to agree with you. 

“Jean,” your voice is sharp as you glare at her. “Not happening.”

You really regret ever befriending her. She’s either ridiculously persuasive or she's used her mind-warping abilities on you.

You're squished between Ororo and Logan on a sticky club booth. The smell of booze and cheap perfume soaks through your senses. You feel the beginnings of a headache forming as the music pounds.

While you love the feeling of Logan's biceps pushed up against you, you hate the club more. Storm catches the tense look on your face and sighs in disappointment.

"We need to get some more alcohol in you," she tells you with a faux sense of authority. "Come on," she nods her head and for a moment you think she's talking to you. But, with a move that seems practiced, Scott and Jean both follow her out of the booth and head toward the bar.

You watch them go with a suspicious glint in your eye, not trusting how smoothly they all just conveniently slipped away. That leaves just you and Logan behind at the table and you doubt that's coincidental.

They've been a little pushy about this crush of yours ever since they found out. They insist that he feels the same way about you as you do him. But you sincerely doubt he's fantasizing about going on romantic picnics with you and thinking of mushy dates.

He seems like the kind of guy to value silence over a girlfriend and you doubt you're his type. You don't tend to stray from the rules, ever. You don't think there's much you two have in common, as much as the others insist the opposite.

You give him a subtle look over. He hasn't moved away from you, which seems like a good sign. There's plenty of space for him to go now, but he keeps himself pressed up against you.

But, he's also not looking at you. His thumb is idly tracing the rim of his glass and he's refusing to take his eyes off the stained wood of the table. You know he can feel the way you're staring at him, but he's stubbornly refusing to acknowledge your presence. It almost feels petty and that makes you scoff and roll your eyes at the thought. You doubt Logan cares enough to be petty.

Practically in love with me, you think sarcastically. 

You know your friends are taking longer than necessary at the bar, trying to give the two of you some privacy. You feel like a high school girl, trying to get the cool guy to like her when he literally couldn’t give two shits. 

Your friends being pushy about the two of you really isn't helping anything. It only gives you false hope, and when he's inevitably a jerk again, it just makes all your little fantasies come crashing down.

You pick up your glass, tipping your head back and letting the alcohol warm you from the inside out. You've done your hair, spent forever doing your makeup, and you put on your favorite slutty dress. You don't feel like sitting here all night sulking alongside your unrequited crush.

More often than not, Logan is nothing more than a wet blanket. You've put in the effort and dragged yourself outside for once, you'd like to enjoy the experience. He could come find you when he felt like pulling the stick out of his ass. You slide out of the booth with a huff, uncaring as the hem of your dress rolls up your thighs. 

“Where’re you going?” Logan demands, voice gruff. Now he wants to pay attention, figures. 

You turn around and glare down at him. His eyes rove slowly over you, the way they should have been all night. His gaze is a physical caress and his stare lingers along your body. You can practically feel his touch on the curves of your hips. Slowly, he looks back up to meet your eye, something like a challenge on his face. 

You assess him, raising a brow and shrugging. “I’m gonna dance.” Something has possessed you or there’s a very talented telepath manipulating you right now. In a rare display of confidence you lean over the table, breasts pushed out towards him. “Wanna join me?” You ask, breath barely above a whisper. 

He scoffs and goes back to glaring at the table. Whatever confidence you had settles coldly in the bottom of your gut. “Not my thing, kid,” he gripes, every bit the crotchety old man. 

You roll your eyes, playing off the sting of rejection as an annoyance. “Of course, you’re not. You’re not having fun unless everyone else is miserable,” you snap. His eyes shoot up to meet yours, something like shock playing on his face. 

You don’t let him respond, already turning on your heel and walking off. As much as you like Logan, sometimes this attitude of his becomes tiring. What’s wrong with wanting to have fun for a night?

You’re not usually a huge fan of clubs. But when you’re out with your friends, you’re not going to actively ruin their night. As rude as that was, it’s right. He’s the “cool” kid in high school who thought everything was lame and never wanted to enjoy anything. 

So, what? You like to get a little drunk and sloppy sometimes, maybe if he ever tried it he might be less miserable. You head towards the bar, spotting Ororo’s hair easily through the crowd. You slide behind her, slipping your arm over her shoulder, “Hey pretty,” you whisper in her ear, laughing as she jumps. 

She turns and glares at you, swatting at your shoulder. “You’re lucky I didn’t hurt you.”

“Ooh, save it for later.” She rolls her eyes and passes you a shot. You take it with a smile, wincing at the burn of the tequila. “You wanna dance?” You have to shout to be heard over the music but you know she hears you when her eyes widen in surprise. 

She glances behind you and you don’t have to look to know Logan is glaring daggers at your back. You can feel him and it's pissing you off. “What happened?” You know she can tell something is up, you’re never this outgoing when you go out. But you don’t want to talk about finally coming to terms with the fact that you and Logan aren’t going to work out. 

Instead, you hold your hand out and wink. “Wanna dance or not?” She laughs a little, slipping her palm into yours and letting you drag her out onto the dance floor. It’s been a while since you’ve actually been sober dancing. You usually like to be near blackout drunk, but you just don’t have the energy for that tonight. 

Ororo is a little tipsier than you, clearly having been drinking while she was waiting at the bar. Her inhibitions are looser and she’s giggling as you move your hips against hers. Neither of you is dancing to impress, you’re messily moving around each other to the beat of the music. You don’t pay attention to the people around you, just having fun by yourselves. 

Ororo takes your hand, spinning you a little and pulling you back into her arms. You laugh, swaying your hips to the same rhythm she is, chests pressed tightly together while you smile at each other. 

She only lasts a few songs before she pulls back. “I need a drink,” she yells before stumbling back towards the bar. You feel yourself deflate, not sure what to do with yourself now that your favorite dancing partner has ditched you. 

You look through the mass of grinding bodies and try and spot your table. You can’t see much through the brightly colored lights spinning all around you. Everything’s a little disorienting and the shots you’ve had aren’t helping. 

Someone’s hand slips around your waist, “Your friend left you all alone?” Normally, you’d push whoever it was off and tell them to back off. But he’s got an attractive voice and you can feel how fit he is against your back. 

“You gonna keep me company?” You tease, voice a low purr as you push back against him. Your hands drift down to his arms, pulling them a little tighter around your waist. He chuckles, the noise reverberating through your back. 

You barely even get a chance to dance before your back is cold and you can feel his arms forcibly ripped off you. It doesn’t take much digging to find the culprit. Logan is behind you, hand fisted in the guy’s collar, “Why don’t you back off, bub?” He shoves him back and you roll your eyes as the guy scrambles off. 

“What the hell was that?” You demand arms crossed as you glare at Logan. 

He turns around and you’re surprised at the intensity of his glare. Something about it has you heated for an entirely different reason. He’s staring down at you like he’s gonna pounce on you. Your heart races, thighs clenching the longer he’s glowering at you. 

He shouldn’t be allowed to be so attractive when he’s pissed off. He reaches forward, grabbing your bicep and jerking you into his chest. He leans down until his lips are brushing against your ear. “You wanna dance, let’s dance, kid.”

“What-”

He cuts you off, flipping you around and pulling your back flush against him. You can feel just how much your little show with Storm got him going. You truly weren’t doing anything too alluring, but it seems to be enough for him. 

When you don’t move his hands drop to your hips and he grinds them down against him. “Logan,” you gasp his name out, caught off guard by how brazen he’s being in the middle of the club. There are people around you doing much worse but you’ve never known him to be this bold before. 

“You trying to make me jealous?” It’s hard to pay attention to what he’s saying, to focus on anything at all when his hand is drifting steadily down your body. The tips of his fingers just barely brush the skin of your thigh while his thumb lets the hem of your dress curl up. 

He flips you around, taking his hands off of you and instead tilting your chin up to face him. “I said,” he repeats in a condescending tone, “were you trying to make me jealous?” He doesn’t sound like he’s taking you seriously. Even if that was your intention, he thinks it’s just your petty way of lashing out at him for not dancing. 

You narrow your eyes at him and swat his hands off of you. “No. I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was trying to have some fun since you’re clearly not interested at all.”

That insufferable smirk of his doesn’t go away for a minute. If anything, he’s more incensed by your anger. “Who said I wasn’t interested?” Your lips part, another dumb little noise about to slip out when he dips down and stops you. 

He’s not trying to be subtle at all, gripping your dress and tugging you up against him while your lips lock. His tongue dips briefly into your mouth, savoring the taste of tequila on your gums before he pulls back. 

“I’m interested in you, kid, just not this shitty little club.” Your mouth is gaping and you feel like a fool, standing there and just staring at him. Your brain is completely scrambled, bits and pieces forming together to scream that he kissed you. Too many things are happening at once. The music is making the floor beneath you vibrate, liquor is warming you from the inside out and tilting you closer to him. And he kissed you. Your lips are still tingling from it. 

He chuckles a little under his breath, keeping you moving steadily against him. You’re simply something to be puppeteered by your desire for him. No thoughts linger inside your brain except his name. “You’re interested in me?” You repeat dumbly.

He leans down, tilting his lips closer towards your ear. “You can’t feel how much I want you?” One of your thighs is practically draped over his leg and he’s grinding his hips against you. The only thing you can feel is him. The smell of his cologne overpowers all the bodies surrounding you both, his voice drones out the loud music around you. You’re completely consumed by him. 

“Logan,” your tone is scandalized, you can’t believe he’s bold enough to have you nearly half-naked on his lap right now. Your butt is one wrong move away from being the club’s newest attraction. Yet, despite every protest lingering on your tongue, you can’t do anything except kiss him again. 

You don’t know if the moment is all one vivid wet dream your brain has conjured up at three am and you don’t feel like finding out. You want to enjoy being risky for once. You always play everything so safely. You don’t confess your feelings to Logan so you aren’t rejected. You never break the rules, you never act out. Just once, you want to do something bad and enjoy it. 

Your arms twine around his neck and you tilt your head to deepen the kiss further. You feel his reaction more than you hear it. A low grumble in his chest that has you practically vibrating with want. He pulls away from you first and it takes a moment for your eyes to flutter back open. 

When you finally do meet his gaze again, he’s got nothing but a smoldering desire in his eyes that makes you want to melt. He’s staring you down like you’re prey to be chased and consumed. “Can’t do this here,” he mutters. 

You’re almost shocked that he’s the first one to cut this off. You knew it was going to happen, you can’t exactly fuck in the middle of the dance floor. As much as you might want to. But you thought you would be the one to chicken out. 

He grabs your hand and shoves through the throng of grinding bodies. You grab the back of his shirt, stumbling after him and trying to stay close. “As much as I’d like to make that poor son of a bitch watch me fuck you, we need a little more privacy.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about the man you’d danced with earlier. If you could even qualify that as dancing. He’d barely put his hand on your waist before Logan had appeared out of nowhere.

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and you glare at his back. How had he even gotten to you so quickly? He must have been watching you like a creep the whole time. You almost want to laugh at the thought. But you’re distracted by him nudging you through a door and locking it behind you. 

You glance around, spotting three sinks and some cracked mirrors. Toilet stalls linger to your right and your nose wrinkles in disgust. You turn around to complain but he’s already stalking toward you. Whatever sanitary complaints were lingering in the back of your throat are thrown out the sealed bathroom window. 

He buries his hands in your hair, ruining the meticulously placed style. You arch into his hold, opening your mouth for him to explore and gasping as his hand drops to your hips. He tugs you closer, ripping your dress up and yanking your underwear down in one smooth move. 

You barely have a second to process half of what’s happening before he’s got you bent over the sink. It’s all happening so fast, so many different desires of yours surging to the surface in one dingy club bathroom. 

You’re slick with months of fantasies and sleepless nights where not even your vibrator could curb your desire for him. You hear his belt clink behind you and your back arches like a cat in heat. You practically present yourself to him, so desperate to feel him that you don’t care how much of a slut you’re being. 

You know, if this was anyone else, you’d slap them for even suggesting the bathroom as the first place you have sex. But you’d have let Logan take you in the alley behind the club. You don’t care where you are, just so long as it's with him. And you know that desire runs a bit deeper than just a surface-level crush. 

He doesn’t give you much warning as he thrusts into you. The breath is practically punched out of you as he fills you. Everything about it feels right. You’re so full of him you feel like you could explode. You know it’s going to take a pathetically short time for you to come. It’s just too much, too fast, you’re so overwhelmed by him. 

“Oh god, Logan,” the porcelain creaks under your palms before you feel it splintering off into your skin. You can’t pay attention to it, though, jaw agape, capable of nothing more than slutty moans of his name. 

He’s relentless behind you, thrusting so hard inside you that it feels like a punishment. He fists his hand in your hair and forces you to look in the mirror. “Come on, want you to see how wrecked you are. What a fucking slut you’re being for me, letting me fuck you like this in this bar.”

Your mascara is completely ruined, streaked down your face with your lipstick smeared across your chin. You look like a fucking mess and you couldn’t care less. You feel yourself fluttering around him the tighter his grip on you is. His hand slips from your hair, latching around your neck and tugging you into his chest. 

He grips your chin and keeps your eyes on where the two of you are joined in the mirror. It only makes you clench tighter around him, watching as he moves in and out of you. You can see just how much of an effect you're having on him and it’s the biggest ego boost you’ve ever had in your life. 

You’ve reduced him to a mess in a dirty club bathroom, so desperate for you he couldn’t even wait to take you home. He tilts his hips, hitting the spot inside you that has your eyes nearly rolling in the back of your head.

You whisper his name in warning, letting go of the sink to clutch tightly at his wrist. He wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you secured against him. His hips start to stutter, losing some of their rhythm the tighter you are around him. The feeling builds in your fingers, tingles down to the tips of your toes, and explodes in a nearly blinding pleasure. His hips are still against you, warmth filling you a moment later. 

You would slump forward into the sink if it weren’t for his protective hold around your stomach. He keeps you tight against his chest for a minute, waiting for you to catch your bearings again. It takes an embarrassingly long time for the feeling in your legs to come back. You’ve never had such an intense experience like that. 

You don’t know if it's from the thrill of possibly getting caught or just because you were with him. You’ve longed and lusted after Logan for so long, and finally having the real thing is a bit of shock. Especially when he exceeded your fantasies, you didn’t even know that was possible.

He props you against the sink, tugging your dress down and pulling your underwear back up. You watch him with dulled interest, still reeling from what you’ve just done. You’ve never been so bold before, it almost feels liberating to just say ‘fuck it’ and do what you want. 

He pulls his own pants back up, fixing his belt and grabbing a wet paper towel for you. He’s silent as he wipes the mascara of your cheeks and you give him a questioning look. “You want the others to know what happened?”

You scoff and glance away from him, looking towards the door of the bathroom. “I’m sure they already know. Weren’t exactly subtle,” you tell him with a small smile. 

He smirks, tossing the towel away and walking back towards you. He keeps his arms on either side of you, bracketing you against the sink and grinning down at you. “No, we weren’t, were we?”

You shake your head silently, lips curled up in amusement. Your eyes briefly dart to his lips before meeting his eyes once more. He catches the look with a sly smile, dipping his head down and giving you a brief kiss. 

It’s short and sweet, more loving than the passionate, rip-my-clothes-off kisses from before. It feels like the type of kiss a married couple would share in the early morning when they only want to remind the other they love each other. Your proximity and the look he’s giving you feel more intimate than anything that just happened. 

“You really meant it?” You muse, voice barely above a whisper as you smile at him. 

“Meant what?” He mutters. 

“You like me,” you tease, entangling your hand with his and tugging him even closer to you. 

He gives you a confused look, glancing at the sink behind you and then back at your disheveled form. “Did I not make that clear enough, kid?”

You shake your head, “No, I think I might need another reminder,” you tell him. It takes a moment for your words to click for him. You can see when it does, he gives you a small smile and shakes his head with an aggrieved sigh like you’re bugging him. 

“Really making me work for it, huh?” You nod your head playfully, dragging him down towards you and bringing him into another kiss. You can deal with the line forming outside in a minute. You can push off your nosy friends’ questions for another day. Right now, it’s just you and him, finally doing what you’ve wanted since the moment you saw him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte 

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡

[thebiggerbear]

when were you going to tell me

Summary: After finding out you concealed something from him on a hunt, Dean is not happy with you and he definitely does not appreciate your attempts at humor on the subject.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Hunter!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting. Just dipping back into the writing pool from time to time, one toe each round. This is what popped into my head when I read the prompt. All unbeta'd.

Prompt Line: "When were you going to tell me that you have a hole in your body?"

Warnings: language; mentioned gun violence/injury; implied sex; implications; Reader (really me) being a perv

Word Count: 1787

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel; @hobby27; @impala67rollingthroughtown; @ladysparkles78

Dean Winchester Taglist: @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @mariahoedt

@solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444; @globetrotter28

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx; @lyarr24; @rebel-paladin; @deans-spinster-witch

@bts24; @roseblue373; @nancymcl; @c1gs-coffee; @peachhiz

@kickingitwithkirk; @fanfic-n-tabulous; @illicithallways; @mentallyillandgae; @ladykitana90

@roseblue373; @radioactivatedspider

Supernaural Taglist: @just-levyy

You can also read on AO3

Dean was super pissed at you. No, not pissed — pissed.

“When were you going to tell me that you have a hole in your body?” He snapped.

You attempted to give him a smile from your seat on the edge of the bed. “Uh, the third date?”

His jaw tightened and his glare immediately transferred from you to his younger brother who had snorted in amusement and was currently attempting to smother a grin. “Don’t encourage her.” Sam threw his hands up in placation but you snickered.

“At least Samsquatch thinks I’m funny.” You winced and sucked in air through your teeth as you tried to peel the right arm of your jacket off. Dean was suddenly there, taking over and gently moving the material away from your wound. “Serves you right,” he muttered. As he studied the bullet you’d taken on the hunt you all just returned from, you studied him — marveling at him in fact. Fury emanated off of him in waves and yet his touch was as gentle as could be. His expression was severe and yet his eyes had a softened edge to them as he tended to you. 

“Sammy, get the med kit out of my bag and bring it over here,” he ordered before briefly turning a fresh glare on you.

You let out a small sigh. “Dean, I get that you’re mad but how was I to know one of them was armed? I mean, what kind of a werewolf carries a gun anyway? Bitch move, if you ask me.”

“The kind that wants to get away at any cost. You’re lucky they only popped you in the shoulder. Now maybe next time you’ll actually listen to me and stay close.” He angrily snatched the proffered gauze from Sam’s hand, refusing to look up at you as he opened the package. “You should have told me.” 

Concern laced his harsh tone and had you wishing you could put both arms around him to pull him close. Instead, you pressed your lips together; you knew he was right. You should have let him and Sam know you had been shot the moment you regrouped where the Impala was parked but considering the alpha had gotten away in the melee, you all were desperate to get out of there and hunt him down. One dead alpha later thanks to Dean’s silver bullets, you still hadn’t told either Winchester and you gritted your teeth at the pain. You were being stupid, you knew you were being stupid, but you just couldn’t push yourself to admit that Dean had been right and you had been wrong. You had butted heads before; you could take care of yourself and Dean wanted you to use the safety of numbers. Needless to say when you were finally forced to admit what happened once you all got back to the motel thanks to Sam accidentally knocking into you forcing you to let out a loud curse, Dean had been harsh and unforgiving, always being a few words away from ‘I told you so’. And while you hated it, you knew you deserved the ass-chewing you were getting. But you would take everything he had to throw at you and more if it meant you wouldn’t have to see the look on his face that you were seeing right now. You’d scared him, terrified him even, and he hadn’t known in the moment that he’d been a heartbeat away from losing you. A fact that was then reiterated by him gruffing out, “If his aim had been a few centimeters to the right…”

You could feel a lump forming in your throat at the pain now clouding his gaze as he pressed the gauze to your wound. You snuck a look over at Sam who gave you an understanding nod, grabbed the ice bucket, and left the room without a word.

You gently covered Dean’s hands with your left one, urging him to look at you. It took him a moment but he reluctantly lifted his eyes to meet yours. Even more pain swirled in those green depths and it broke your heart. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” you whispered. “I should have told you. And I will never go off on my own again or scare you like that. I promise.”

He watched you for a moment and when he determined you meant what you were telling him, he capitulated with a nod and went back to focusing on your wound. You moved your hand to one of his wrists and briefly squeezed before letting him go.

After a minute, you decided to lighten things up a little while you still could. He was going to have to dig the bullet out since it didn’t go through. As much pain as you’d been in for the past two hours, you were bound to be in a hell of a lot more in the next few minutes so you only had a short window. You got a good look at the wound when he pulled the bloody gauze away and gave it an approving nod. “So, whaddya say after you fix this hole, I can show you what other holes I have that might need tending to, hmm?” His gaze snapped to you and you gave him your best seductive smirk, arching an eyebrow in meaning.

As expected, Dean rolled his eyes and he thrust a half-finished bottle of whiskey at you. “I never thought I’d say this to a girl but you are banned from referring to your…other holes like that. For forever. Especially in front of Sam.”

“Oh come on, you know you love it when I do,” you teased, taking a swig of the amber liquid.

“I know I love you,” he suddenly replied, his tone serious yet ever so quiet, and his focus now on the kit in front of him.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. In all of the time you’d been doing the no pants dance on a semi-regular basis, not once had Dean uttered the L-word. Sure, you knew how much he loved your ass and how his hands seemed to be super-glued to the area whenever Sam wasn’t looking, how much he loved it when when you did that thing with your tongue and throat at the same time that made him bite into the side of his fist to keep quiet, and how much he loved when you fucked him. But never had he ever in all of this time told you that he loved you.   

He hesitantly met your gaze and when he saw your smile, he seemed to relax slightly and clear his throat. “You should drink a little more of that before I start digging the bullet out.”

When he took the bottle from you, you used your free hand to gently tug on his flannel. “Me too, you know.” When he glanced over at you, you whispered, “I love you, too.”

His features softened a little in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He fought to keep a smile off of his handsome face and seemed determined to remember he was still mad at you, but the light in his eyes remained. “Okay.” A simple okay — as if okay, that’s decided and that’s it. Very simple and matter of fact. When your grin grew, he shyly looked away before snapping back into focus, intent on switching into a medic role. “This is going to hurt.” His expression was then completely apologetic.

“I know. It’s okay,” you reassured him. “Not my first gunshot wound.” At the furrowing of his brows and his eyes roaming all over you, you dug your fingers into his jeans to distract him and gave him a nod. You could tell him all about that later; besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen the scar on your leg at some point.

The distraction having succeeded, Dean let it go for now and poured the whiskey on the open wound. You nearly screamed from the pain, tightening your grip on him.

His lips were immediately lingering against the skin of your forehead. “I’m sorry, baby,” you thought you heard him murmur to you but you were in so much agony you couldn’t be sure. When the sting began to fade into the steady throb you had grown used to, you heard him tease, “So, third date, huh?”

You gave a tiny shrug of your one good shoulder, wincing. “Date, hunt, whatever.” Sam and the world didn’t need to know exactly when you and Dean had made the beast with two backs. Third, first — it was all the same to you.

You’d known Sam and Dean back in the day and when you found yourselves accidentally on the same hunt years later, Dean may have given you a second look which you more than eagerly returned (you’d had a crush on him for years when you were younger) and when you used his last-night-on-Earth line on him at a local dive bar later on… You bit your bottom lip to keep at bay the memories of the creaking of the Impala, your moans from his lips trailing everywhere, and his deep groans of “Fuck” in your ear as he tightly held onto you from that night. Damn, if you weren’t shot right now, you might ask him to recreate that particularly explosive night, especially since you both were sharing a room with Sam on this trip. Perhaps once Dean was through and you were all bandaged up, you could convince him to go for a drive so you could show him just what your good arm could still do. Sure, you were a natural righty, but you could get creative. Not to mention you were shot in the shoulder, not your lower half, and it certainly wouldn’t keep your jaw from working.

Dean chuckled, pulling you from your dirty thoughts about said man who tenderly kissed your hairline before searching for the forceps in his kit. “Right.” He poured some alcohol over the tool and gave you one more kiss before focusing on your shoulder. “You ready?”

“One sec.” You grunted as you lifted up slightly to plant a kiss to his stubbled jaw. He turned to look at you and you shot him a smirk. “Hurry the fuck up, Winchester, and get to work getting this bullet out of me so we can go for a drive and I can show you how ambidextrous I can be.”

You watched his throat bob up and down as he swallowed and then a smirk crawled onto his face to mirror yours, his eyes darkening to an all-too familiar shade. “Yes, ma’am.”

And he got straight to work.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this character.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

banner by @cafekitsune

[evielmostdefinitely]

Hi!! I love your snow fics! I would love to see more of them on the tour through the districts

treat me rough |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, more honeymoon smut :) also the title is from the song treat me rough by ella fitzgerald which just reminds me of coriolanus and reader haha.

contains: smut 18+. dom!coriolanus and sub! (kinda bratty) reader. possessive, controlling, mean/hard dom!coryo. dom/sub themes. bratting. spanking / pussy slapping (with hand). pinvsex.

“You’re pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” Coriolanus growled through gritted teeth, a firm hand on your bicep dragging you to the train’s station. 

You bit back a smile, trying to hide the giddy excitement you felt. Your devious little plan had worked. 

It had been nearly a week since your wedding, since the start of the tour from district to district. A makeshift of a honeymoon that you agreed to. Was it ideal? Not entirely, but at least you’d be together through most of it, Coryo had promised. 

He’d failed to mention his countless meetings and obligations that took up most of his time. When he’d finally return to the carriage, shoulders slumped and eyes heavy, you’d be waiting in your lingerie, obediently on your knees ready to stuff his length down your throat. He’d let you, of course, but other than a half hearted fucking- you were left unsatisfied. 

You knew he was tired. You knew he was stressed and anxious about becoming the President of Panem. But this was your honeymoon. A start to the rest of your life, and if this was any indicator of how your life would change, especially in the bedroom, you were far from interested. 

By District Four, you’d had enough. You knew better than to pick a fight with Coriolanus, it would only frustrate him and he’d be likely to ignore you out of pure spite- he’d done it before. Instead, you hatched a plan. 

At the end of each day at the Districts, you and Coriolanus would join the Mayor and his spouse for tea. You and Coryo would never drink it, of course, he was paranoid about being poisioned by the rebels, but you’d sit and discuss formalities amongst the four of you. 

The Shefland’s were hospitable, a lavish house that sat near the lake where they could oversee their working people- you knew Coriolanus was pleased. They offered you a seat in their sun room, at a small, round table where they offered up Earl Grey and finger foods. Coryo and Mayor Shefland talked rebels, Peacekeepers, and other droning business, while you and the Mayor’s spouse sat obediently. 

For now. 

You placed your hand on Coryo’s thigh, simple and unsuspecting. He looked over at you, patting your hand affectionately, joining the conversation. Your cheeks flamed with daring adrenaline, staring at the poppy seed pastry in front of you, your hand sliding slowly up Coriolanus’ fine trousers. You’d start slow, enough to have him convinced you were doing it innocently, before starting up again. His breath hitched once, a firm squeeze to your hand, shoving it down his thigh towards his knee. 

The cut of his eyes, an icy side glance, you knew you were teetering on dangerous territory, but still not where you wanted to be. Coriolanus would chastise you at most, scold you and maybe take a ruler to your palms, but that wasn’t what you wanted. 

And you always got what you wanted. 

Your hand moved, boldly, resting right on his crotch. Coriolanus’ breath hitched, faltering just for a moment, before you squeezed his length lightly through the fabric, palming his length. Coryo cleared his throat, cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

You frowned, brows creased in concern. “Darling, are you alright?” You hummed innocently, leaning forward, pressing further into his crotch. 

“Yes,” Coryo hissed, eyes narrowing at you. He cleared his throat, apologizing politely to the mayor, shoving your hand off his length, pressing it into your own lap with a warning squeeze to your thigh. 

You pressed your thighs together, practically squirming in your seat. It worked. Coryo was furious at your blatant brattiness, in a way you hadn’t seen since you first started dating, and it filled you with bubbling excitement. 

Coriolanus hadn’t stayed long after that, curtly thanking the Shefland’s a hand on your back, leading you towards the car. He’d contemplated yanking you over his knee right there, the driver be damned, maybe it’d embarrass you. Instead, he kept his composure until you were alone, dragging you into the private carriage of the train. 

“I should call the Academy. Tell them to refund your father, because clearly they failed to teach you any etiquette.” Coriolanus sneered, shoving you lightly into the train, latching the carriage door behind him. 

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” You cooed innocently, nearly taunting. Coryo's fists tightened. “I thought I behaved very well for the Shefland’s-” 

“-For the Shefland’s.” Coriolanus snapped, taking a dangerous step towards you, towering over you. “But you don’t answer to the Shefland’s, you answer to me.” 

Your knees wobbled at his tone, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. His hand caught your chin easily, squeezing your jaw, fingers pressing into your cheeks, pulling your gaze up to him. “You know better.” Coryo growled. “You know better, and you still behaved that way.” 

You whined, his fingers curling tighter around your face. “You know how you act for me, how I expect you to behave.” Coriolanus sneered. “And you know what happens when you don’t.” The lingering threat in his tone had you throbbing painfully between your knees. 

Still, you whined in protest, wiggling to move out of his grip- defiant and bratty, just how you knew Coriolanus liked it. He loved breaking a brat, loved putting you in your place, though he’d never admit it. 

“They didn’t see, Coryo.” You huffed, a roll of your eyes that had him bristling, jaw clenched so tight he was sure his teeth might crack. “It’s our honeymoon, and you’ve been ignoring me.” You whined, a petulant pout that had his cock stirring. 

“Oh?” His tone was dangerous, teetering on amused and sinister. “That’s what this is about?” You whined, trying to wiggle out of his grip. “You acted like this because I’ve been ignoring you?” 

“I was just trying to get you excited.” You muttered, avoiding his hard gaze. “You’ve barely been with me, and-and we haven’t had sex in days and it’s our honeymoon, Coryo!” 

“Days?” Coriolanus scoffed. “We had sex this morning.” 

“Barely.” You muttered, his fingers tightening around you, jerking you towards him. 

“I’ve had enough.” Coriolanus snapped, voice booming, bouncing off the walls of the train’s carriage. You shrunk under his gaze, eyes rounded pleadingly. “You want my attention so badly, you impish little brat, then you have it.” His hand moved from your jaw, and for a moment, you were relieved- until it found its way to your hair, wrapping around your locks and tugging at the scalp. 

You whined, clawing at his wrist as he pulled you roughly towards the bed, sitting on the edge, hauling you over his knee. “Completely uncalled for, touching me like that.” Coriolanus snarled, roughly shoving the hem of your dress up over the swell of your ass. 

Your hands reached back, trying to push your dress back down. Coryo’s hands wrapped around your wrist, pinning it to the small of your back. “I should bind you.” Coryo spat bitterly, his hands squeezing around your wrist for emphasis. “Should take you out to the center of town and tie you to the whipping post. Show everyone how I handle my disobedient wife.” 

You shuddered at the thought, legs clamping together. Coryo’s brows lifted in amusement, hand smoothing over the bare skin of your ass. “You’d like that, wouldn't you? Filthy.” His hand fell heavy on your upturned ass, without a warning, a resounding clap! filling the air and leaving you breathless. 

“You will behave.” Coriolanus gritted, hand punctuating each syllable of the words with a stinging smack, satisfied at how you whined and wriggled in his grasp. “I will not have a disobedient, needy, bratty wife. Do you understand?”  

Your silence only infuriated him further, two hard spanks falling to the center of your bottom. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes, yes,” You panted, head swimming with a whirlpool of emotions- pain, pleasure, embarrassment, and blinding need. “Please, Corio.” Your hips raised, back arching low to reveal your puffy, wet lips, throbbing with need. 

Coryo’s cock was stiff, mouth watering at the sight. He longed to bury his face in your pussy, push your head into the pillows and devour you- but you didn’t earn it, not yet anyways. 

Instead, he grabbed you by your waist, letting you fall on your back into the soft duvet with a bounce, whining at the fabric brushing your inflamed skin. “Spread those legs.” Coriolanus’ eyes were dark, lust filled and dangerous. 

You parted your legs obediently, watching him carefully above you. His gaze on your pussy, tongue running over his bottom lip mindlessly. “Keep those spread or I won’t touch you at all tonight.” 

You whimpered at his threat, hands hooking under your kneecaps to spread your legs apart, on display for him. Coryo knelt between your legs, working the buttons of his shirt open until it fell open. You ogled at his toned chest, mouth filling with spit at the sight. 

“I think I need to get to the root of this issue.” Coriolanus hummed, tossing his shirt to the side. “You’ve been acting bad because of her, haven't you?” 

Your thighs squeezed, legs starting to close before he stopped you, a warning glare that had you shrinking. “What did I tell you? You don’t want me to touch you at all?” 

You shook your head. “N-No, Sir.” 

Coriolanus seemed pleased at the use of his favorite name, ego inflating at the title. He didn’t think you’d call him that so soon, so easily. Usually he had to push you a little further, until you were needy and desperate for him before you’d call him that. 

“I think I need to spank her.” Coryo’s eyes stayed on yours, kneeling between your legs. “Since she doesn’t know how to behave.”  

You whimpered, nails digging into the skin of your knees, watching him carefully. His eyes on yours, hand raising before it fell, not nearly as hard as the punishing spanks to your ass, but a stinging slap to your mound. One right after the other until he hit five, the last a particularly hard one over your clit that had your hips jolting and writhing. 

You spent the better half of the night, head lolling over the edge of the bed while Coriolanus shoved his cock down your throat, fucking your face until you gagged and cried and begged to be touched. When he finally did touch you, ass raised high, hands folded behind your back while he rode you, fucking you with a punishing vigor in front of the mirror. You drooled on the edge of the bed, whining and whimpering pitifully with every orgasm he pulled from you until he was finally spilling over your abused ass. 

The meeting with the Mayor of District Five was uncomfortable. You shifted in your seat at tea, grimacing behind tight smiles. Coriolanus bit back his own smirk, proud of his handimark that was undoubtedly the cause for your sudden obedience and clinginess. He rewarded you for being so well mannered by letting you sit on his face that night, devouring you while you rode his mouth and nose, hands gripping those golden locks you adored, your wedding ring scratching at his scalp.