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wttcsms · 6 months ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ match my freak !!

ᝰ.ᐟ the two of you are private not secret, but when the media starts to speculate that the two of you are no longer together, neither of you are too happy. the best way to get everyone to stop with the breakup rumors? posting something a little bit nasty to the feed to satiate everyone's curiosity. (fem!reader)

featuring tobio kageyama, atsumu miya, tetsurou kuroo, wakatoshi ushijima, tooru oikawa, rintarou suna content contains breeding kink (atsumu, wakatoshi), pregnant reader (wakatoshi), famous!reader (changes depending on scenario), creampie (tetsurou), hatefucking (not really, you + kuroo just like to antagonize each other but the attraction is there), scratches on his back (tobio), hickeys (tooru), wet n messy (rintarou), possessive!character x possessive!reader (the two of you are obsessed with each other ok), social media references lol author's notes i'm definitely doing a blue lock version, i'm just seeing if this is a popular premise lol <3 based off this original concept !! these are just silly little drabbles for me to warm up to the idea of writing again haha

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA

your fans are speculating: that you and kageyama have broken up. fans are recording footage from you on your latest tour and claim that you're "clearly disassociating" and "somewhere else mentally" when it comes to singing your iconic love songs. you and kageyama have always kept your relationship private because he's not a very open person to begin with, and you don't want to give the media more material to misconstrue. you know that kageyama hates when some random person will annotate your verses on genius lyrics and try to make the claim that your innocent metaphor is you wanting to jump ship and leave kageyama. and you hate how it's your own fans who are making wild accusations of you no longer being with the man all your love songs are about.

you posted: kageyama, with his back turned to the camera so all that fills your camera is the surprisingly broad expanse of his muscular back and shoulders. he's not even flexing, and it's obvious that he's a world-class athlete. he's facing the closet, trying to find a shirt to put on, and it would be a semi-innocent photo, the pinterest-perfect photo inspo for every private not secret relationship out there, except for the fact that there are clearly faint, red lines — scratches — running down his back. you caption the photo with a "monday morning 🤍" (your insane fans spam the comment section to exclaim how they knew you two were still a thing... and to speculate that this photo is somehow an easter egg for an upcoming song/album. well, they're right: you two will always be a thing, and tobio dicked you down so good last night that you could write him a whole album.)

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"fuck," the word slips through his gritted teeth, and you can tell that your tobio is still upset about how your fans seem divided. half of them claim no one could ever make them hate tobio (you find those fans to be absolutely adorable), and the other half...

well, the other half are making slideshow posts to audios that go "some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world" and the ones that seem to go viral are always the ones that feature you and tobio.

"not hidin' you away." he mutters, never slowing down his thrusts. he admires the expression on your face as he fucks into you, his ego pleased with how receptive you are to his every movement. he has you speared on his cock, your tight little cunt full of him, your eyes getting so adorably teared-up because he's just a little bit too much for you to handle. tobio isn't good with words; he thinks you're the most beautiful girl to exist, but he can't verbalize it. so he just takes in your sweet, fucked-out face, the reaction only he's capable of drawing from you, and it all gets so overwhelming for him.

he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash as he continues to bully his cock into your soaked pussy. "why's it bad if i want to keep you all to myself?" he's practically whining, and you think this would be so cute if only you weren't currently chasing after your release. or rather, tobio's forcing you to cum, whether you want to or not. it's not like you can stop him; tobio devotes himself to always ensuring that you finish before him. he likes the satisfaction of knowing only he can take care of you, and he especially likes the way his cock looks with you creaming all over it.

when he gets like this, all you can do is cling to him, your arms wrapped around his muscular build. when he gets rough with his thrusts, when his body gets just the slightest bit sweaty from the exertion (evidence of just how much work he puts into fucking you), you have to dig your manicured nails (the set he paid for) into the skin of his toned back. otherwise, you'd lose your grip, and your hands would slip off.

tobio relishes the slight stinging pain of your nails scratching down his skin. but the scratches aren't enough. he needs to make you cum. when you get so caught up in your climax, you start clawing at him as you lose control. he loves the scratches you leave on him; it's proof that he's yours just as much as you are his.

౨ৎ ATSUMU MIYA

haters are saying: that you're just using atsumu for content. you're a gold digger. you're not genuine. you're not "wifey material." spectators are claiming that atsumu is playing worse than before because he's too "pussywhipped" for you. well, he likes to cheekily admit to you that he is addicted to your pussy, but they're wrong about everything else. obviously. however, the haters are feeling very vindicated whenever they see atsumu hasn't been posting you as much. (you're traveling for a new vlog series on your page, but no one knows.)

he posted: a mirror selfie. which isn't breaking news. atsumu miya always breaks the internet when he posts a mirror selfie because the only thing worse than a hot guy is a hot guy who knows he's hot. no one is a stranger to the sight of a post-workout, sweaty, shirtless atsumu, who flaunts his tight abs and muscular thighs with a steamy mirror selfie. but this photo? this one is going triple platinum. it's going down in history. this selfie is taken in dim lighting; the curtains in the background are drawn shut, he's got one hand gripping his phone (making the phone look tiny in his big hand), and he's got one arm wrapped around you. it's not an innocent hug, though. he's cupping your ass, and the phone in front of his face does nothing to shield his satisfied smirk. you're clad in nothing but lacy lingerie from a designer who loves to sponsor you, and you're clinging to his side, almost like you can't even stand without his support. it's clear that the two of you definitely were... appreciating the work your favorite designer put in when they created that lacy set.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"what do you think?" you're smiling at him, knowing damn well what he's thinking.

atsumu looks up at you, reflexively licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you wearing a new set of lingerie that you just got delivered. it leaves little room for imagination, and the material looks so delicate, atsumu is already thinking about how he'll have to apologize to the designer for ripping it off of you.

"i think I'm the luckiest man alive right now." atsumu is shameless in the way he's admiring you, the way the setting sun still peeks through the curtains, enveloping your body in a delicious golden glow as you inch closer and closer to him.

in a matter of seconds, he's pulling you on top of him, placing wet, sloppy kisses over any centimeter of your skin he can reach. when you make a move to slip off the panties, he protests.

"leave 'em on f'me, baby. please?"

he fucks you with you still wearing the lingerie set. your breasts are spilling out of the bra, and all he did was move your panties to the side so he could stretch you out with his cock.

"fuckin' idiots, tellin' me you're not good enough to marry. i'll show 'em what a good girl you are, right? gonna put a ring on your finger, and make you my wife." he's fucking his cock into you, making sure that your cute cunt knows who it belongs to. "gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. no one's gonna say shit about our family, huh? 'cause i won't let 'em."

your cunt clenches up so nicely with every comment he makes that atsumu knows he has to make all those pussydrunk promises come true.

౨ৎ TETSUROU KUROO

the tabloids are posting: paparazzi photos of you — the socialite daughter of the man who owns the msby black jackals, and jva's promotion division's golden boy, tetsurou kuroo. it's late at night, and the two of you are clearly leaving a party celebrating the success of another eventful volleyball season. you're wearing the iconic ysl heels with a black mini-dress that honestly should be called a micro-dress. your hair is a mess, you're walking like your knees are struggling not to wobble, and walking three steps behind you despite his longer stride is kuroo; his tie is crooked, his cheeks are flushed, and he has a grin that says something like i just fucked one of the richest bratty heiresses in japan, and i left her wanting more. the amount of blind items that are allegedly alluding to you and kuroo are being spread all over tiktok. one reads, "this sports club heiress was seen exiting a party with this semi-known marketing mastermind who works in the sports industry. apparently, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and no one can recall seeing them together during the party; everyone only caught glimpses of them running away from the festivities together."

you posted: a photo slideshow on instagram of your absolutely iconic outfit from the party, only these photos were clearly taken before the party. your hair is done, your makeup is perfect, and your caption states don't believe everything you read. the last slide is a screenshot of an online headline speculating about your "new man" with a photo of a grinning kuroo from that night. the reason why this makes everyone go insane is because you're no stranger to a scandal — this is, however, the first time you've ever addressed a headline.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"hurry up," you hiss, your eyes darting from left to right as you make sure no one is nowhere near the secluded corridor kuroo somehow managed to find.

"y'know, i thought girls were supposed to like guys who don't blow their loads prematurely." even when he's bullying his cock into your slicked up cunt, savoring the way your sensitive walls are clenching around his dick, tetsurou has a very annoying habit of still sounding entirely in control. for someone who can't keep his hands to himself when it comes to you, he's irritatingly great at playing nonchalant.

but he's just a man, after all. he might tower over you, his large body shielding you from any prying eyes, and he might know your body so well that he can bring you to completion twice (once with his fingers curling against that special spot of yours, and another one so rudely wrung out from you when he slid his cock in your orgasm-recovering, overly sensitive pussy) in just the fifteen minutes he's been toying with you tonight, but you know that he must be feeling something. you saw him shift his pants the moment his eyes met yours from across the room, when his eyes travelled down your body and followed the way your dress emphasized the curvatures of your body.

"if you don't finish right now, i'm not going to let you cum inside." you threaten him, trying to steady your voice as you bite back a moan. it'd be a major issue if the two of you got caught, with the volleyball association's golden boy being buried balls-deep inside a sports team owner's bratty daughter.

with every sharp snap of his hips, kuroo is only forcing more slick to come gushing out of your pussy. he can't even take the time to admire the white ring you left around his cock; he's too focused on chasing after his release because he didn't get to where he's at by not being opportunistic.

"if i cum inside, you have to keep it in your panties the whole night. you wouldn't want that, would you?" he sounds a little breathless now, his pace quickening as his thrusts get sloppier. he's smiling at you, that damn annoying smile that makes you want to roll your eyes or insult him. but your body betrays you. his grin only widens when your pussy tightens up at the idea of having his cum soaking in your panties while you interact with people at this party. a dirty little secret shared only between you two.

he lets out a breathy chuckle at your body's betrayal. "okay, princess. since you want it so badly, i guess i better give it to you."

you could practically cum again the minute you feel the warmth of him finishing inside of you. you're a spoiled brat who gets what she wants, and while you refuse to admit it, you want him. all of him.

and he's going to give it to you.

౨ৎ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

the media is going crazy over: the fact that ushijima is the type of person who doesn't clarify anything because he just assumes that everyone can read his mind. he's blunt, sure, but he's not really the type who does much explaining. after the first game of the season, an interviewer asks him if he enjoyed spending the off-season with you, his girlfriend and one of the most beloved, fan-favorite WAGs of all time. ushijima stares straight into the camera as he states in his usual deep, flat rumble of a voice, "the off-season was successful, but she isn't my girlfriend anymore. thank you." and then he just walks off, like he didn't just drop the most insane piece of information ever?

he posted: a photo of an ultrasound that was clearly taken out of his wallet since it's thrown on the table in the background. he's holding it in his left hand, and the overhead lighting is reflected from the silver wedding band he's wearing. now that he's off the court, he's able to wear it. in typical ushijima fashion, there is no caption, but a picture is worth a thousand words. you're not his girlfriend. you're his wife, and soon to be mother of his child.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"mmph — 'toshi!" you squeal out, your calves burning from the stretch as your beloved wakatoshi has your legs bent and spread for him. he's just so big that you'd never be able to handle all of him, and yet, here you are, bent into a mating press every night since the two of you have gotten married. you try to beg him to slow down, but words escape you as he buries himself into your pussy, letting out a deep, guttural groan as the warmth of your cunt coats his cock. there's no better feeling than this.

even if you could request for him to slow down, it wouldn't have mattered or made much of a difference. your husband has a one-track mind. when wakatoshi is set on a goal, it's hard to break his focus until he sees it to the end. and right now, wakatoshi's goal is to fuck a baby into you, to see you round with life because of the seeds he planted.

he's hunched over you, abs tightening and flexing with every sharp inhale of breath he takes. he's gonna fuck himself empty, going to keep filling your cunt with his seed 'til he's shooting blanks. his eyes glance at the ring he put on your finger before returning to admire your blissful expression and the way your body seems to have gone boneless from all the fucking he's had you endure.

"just a little bit longer." he manages to say, before forcing his cock in even deeper. "just have to make sure it takes."

౨ৎ TOORU OIKAWA

everyone is claiming: long distance relationships never last. when oikawa makes the shocking announcement that he is no longer a japanese citizen, everyone immediately wondered what that meant for the future of your relationship. does that mean it's over? officially? if oikawa is leaving behind his hometown, then by default, is he leaving you behind too?

he posted: a photo slideshow, only most of the images were clearly taken by you. the first one is of him driving; the two of you are in his convertible, and he's wearing a white button down with most of the buttons undone. on the stark white of the shirt are kiss marks; the imprint of your lips lined with cherry-red lipstick are all over the material of his shirt and on his freshly-tanned skin. the other photos are of what you two ate for dinner, the sunset from the beach, and a selfie of you two looking more in love than ever. fans are quick to point out the massive hickey on your neck, and tooru tags you in a reply to the top comment that points it out, and he's saying "you missed a spot babe." you reply back, "i ran out of concealer because you gave me too many to cover"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"i missed you," your boyfriend mumbles into your soft skin. tooru can get so clingy when he goes long periods without seeing you, and you indulge him because he's tooru. he's got his face buried in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his breath is warm against your skin as he speaks.

"everyone is saying i'm abandoning you, but that's not true." he whines.

"i know, baby. i don't care." you laugh softly, absentmindedly playing with the soft strands of his hair. he settles into you, and it's almost sweet, until he starts nipping at your skin.

"tooru, what are you doing?" you can't find it in yourself to chastise him too harshly, but you do have to restrain yourself from pulling back.

"jus' want to show everyone that you're still my girl." he peers up at you, licking his lips. "you'll let me do that, won't you?"

tooru bites and sucks at your skin, sharp canines grazing your soft flesh. he sucks at your most sensitive areas while he works his fingers in and out of your gushing cunt. when he pulls his fingers out and holds them up, so the sunlight can shine and really highlight how much of your juices is coating his digits, he smiles. his girl gets this wet just from him marking you up?

as he sucks on his fingers, relishing in the way you taste, he can't help but be happy to know that no matter how far away the two of you are from each other (for now), you're still his girl.

౨ৎ RINTAROU SUNA

your fans are telling you: suna doesn't care about you. suna doesn't put forth any effort into your relationship. suna literally streams on twitch during the off-season yet he can't seem to ever post you?? suna doesn't deserve you. suna—

suna is a lot of things, but nothing like the deadbeat, ashamed boyfriend allegations. in fact, all your well-meaning fans are so far off on how he treats you that you and him get a good laugh from the outrageous conclusions they've jumped to.

you posted: a photo of rintarou with his head on your lap, and you've got your fingers playing with his hair. it's a sweet photo, really. except for the fact that you decided to pair it with an audio that's a snippet of a song that goes "he's so pretty when he goes down on me" and a caption that reads this song is so relatable 🤍

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

anyone who thinks rintarou is a selfish lover, a lazy lover, someone who merely tolerates you or is ashamed to be with you... they clearly don't know either of you very well.

because even when he's exhausted from practice, rintarou comes home craving you. craving your sweetness, your warmth, your love — and your pussy. he's obsessed. rintarou suna loves to eat you out, and he does it with such passion, such enthusiasm, that it's hard to refuse him, even if he's been going at it for the past hour.

your juices are leaving a stain on the bedsheets, and your slick is coating your inner thighs. it doesn't help that rintarou is messy with his technique. he needs your legs spread for him, granting him easy access for him to just dig in. he's still in his practice jersey, and when he feels your grip loosening from the strands of hair you're tugging at, he'll slow down his pace, calming down to just tiny kitten licks while he peers up at you.

your head is thrown back in pleasure, and your hips have a mind of their own as they still jut forward, as if trying to bring your cunt impossibly closer to him. no need for that, really, seeing as how he craves to bury himself in your warmth, to suck on your cute little clit and have you humming all over his tongue.

"rinnie." you whine out, still subconsciously bucking up your hips. he smiles before resuming his original ministrations, gluttonous and greedy with how sloppy and hungry he is with you. if you're still capable of talking, then you're not too fucked out to not allow him to get his fill.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #tobio kageyama x reader #kageyama smut #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu smut #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #rintarou suna x reader #suna smut #hq x reader #haikyuu headcanons

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yandere-writer-momo · 8 months ago

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Yandere Short Stories:

Play Pretend

Yandere Past Stalker x Fem Reader

TW: unsettling themes, manipulation, stalking (mentioned), yandere behavior, and drugging

Sizzle. Snap. Pop.

The sounds of eggs frying on a pan filled (your name)’s ears while she sat at the mahogany kitchen table. No matter how many times her husband made her breakfast, she couldn’t quite get used to it… (your name) couldn’t help but feel as if there was something horribly amiss.

A little voice often cried in the corners of her mind that this beautiful man was not her husband. That he was an imposter. Yet she couldn’t understand the voice… this man had to be her husband!

Desiderio was there by her side the moment she opened her eyes when she woke up from her coma. She recalled how his large hands held hers while fat tears rolled down his cheeks. That man clung to her like a lifeline, his lips fervently pressed against the top of her head the moment her eyes fluttered open.

And here she was today! In their house that still felt foreign to her despite the two months that had rolled by… a foreign home with no tv nor a radio. A home full of books, plants, and even six photo albums of her. Yet there weren’t many pictures of the two of them together... Desiderio was an incredibly passionate man when it came to her. (Your name) had no doubt this man worshipped the ground she walked on.

(Your name) jumped when a neatly prepared plate was placed in front of her. Desiderio’s chocolate eyes scanned her face with a frown before he smiled brightly.

“Cara mia, you’re lost in thought again.” Desiderio took a seat beside her, large hand now wrapped around hers. His dark eyes filled with concern. “You’ll get a headache if you think too hard about everything… how about you try some eggs? I prepared them just the way you like them!”

(Your name) smiled at her husband who gently pushed the plate closer to her. “Aren’t you going to eat too, darling?”

The large man shivered at the nickname, a dark blush now on his cheeks. “Yes… but I worry more about you. You’re still so weak.”

Desiderio pressed a kiss on the top of her head before he made his way over to fetch himself a plate.

(Your name) raised a brow at the slightly unsavory taste of the eggs. How odd… had her husband used a new kind of seasoning?

(Your name) continued to much away, blissfully unaware of the twisted smile on Desidedio’s face. The brunette’s hands shook as he tried to keep his breathing calm.

Desiderio had loved this beautiful woman since university nearly a decade ago. He knew they were destined to be together from a single glance and Desiderio would have done anything to make sure that happened…

(Your name) was like a fairy tale princess who was kind to everyone, even someone like him. Desiderio was a loser back then. A nerd with little social skills and a scrawny body, he was half the man his brother was… all his life he was compared to his perfect brother. All because he wasn’t athletic.

Desiderio always yearned for (your name) and her affection. It wasn’t fair that his older brother was the one who swooped her up. His cold, neglectful brother who had the emotional capacity of a rock.

It wasn’t fair! Sirius knew Desiderio loved (your name)! Sirius had everything growing up. The family business, the looks, the love of their parents, the money, everything. So why did Sirius get the girl too?

What could (your name) possibly see in Sirius? Sirius was dull and uninteresting, he was only handsome and the heir to a multi-generational company. He had no other redeeming traits! Desiderio was far more romantic and he always left her loving notes in the locker! Was his heartfelt emotion not enough for (your name)?

Desiderio went into a deep depression when the love of his life married Sirius. He threw himself into medical school and painstakingly climbed up the ladder until he made it to the position of medical director. Desiderio worked out until sweat would puddle at his feet, he grew out his black hair, and he became a beloved member of society to try to forget (your name).

It was pure luck (your name) had gotten hit by that car and ended up in a coma at his hospital. It was destiny that her workaholic husband ignored the frantic calls of the nurses and that he only left his last name down as her emergency contact. It was simply too easy to slip his fingers into the sweet honey pot he had always wanted…

And it was even better that she had amnesia. Now Desiderio could mold her in the way that was always intended… as his wife. There would never be a day where she’d feel unloved or neglected. She’d be pampered and endlessly doted on like the princess she was!

(Your name) let out a cute yawn as she stretched her arms above her head. The sweet sight snapped Desiderio from his musings. Goodness she was so precious… and she was all his.

Desiderio slithered forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders with a smirk.

“Cara mia, it seems you’re still sleepy. How about I carry you back to bed?” Desiderio pressed a tender kiss to her temple. The softest of smiles on his plump lips. “We can lay on each other’s arms for a while longer.”

“You’re always so sweet…” (your name) nuzzled her head into Desiderio’s shoulder as the man gave her a bright smile. “I don’t know where I’d be without my darling husband.”

“You’d just be cold and lonely.” Desiderio would play pretend until the very end.

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haeryna · 10 months ago

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in my dreams you love me back (i still love you) ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

← previous | ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | next →

summary: soft moments with shoko keep your heart soft as well, but suguru finds something that he wasn't supposed to.

tw: sfw but vague mentions of losing your virginity. your mother MEDDLES but let's be real, we'd do the same. allusions to the bible for the aesthetic but also because i like the imagery of the themes. not proofread.

notes: title taken from red velvet's "in my dreams." the second half of "i would give up heaven if i had to." another short chapter because i split it in two originally! banner from @/cafekitsune

"You look like shit."

You can't stop the huff that escapes your mouth as Shoko peers at you from your phone, propped up against your rice cooker. She's somewhere in the United States right now, attending a medical conference. She isn't wrong; your ten minute break in the bathroom had turned into a full-blown half hour breakdown. Thankfully, none of your coworkers pointed out the redness of your eyes and the sallow tint to your skin. Your manager had practically forced you to go home early. They all assumed that you had broken down about how the Gojo Satoru had demanded you be the one to make his drink. At this point, you were too tired to correct them.

"I just got back from the cafe, leave me alone." Yawning, you reach for a bowl. "I'm starving and exhausted, and now you're going to yell at me, Sho?"

You can hear the heavy exhale, and the camera blurs as she lets out a cloud of cigarette smoke. "I never said that. Did you see them today?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Nobody else can make you cry that hard, and I know it wasn't me."

You hesitate for a moment. "Mom thinks I should hear them out."

"Personally, I would tell them I'll speak to them after a down payment of 5k."

"Shoko!"

But your laughter fills the air, and you can catch Shoko's self-satisfied smirk from the other end. "There she is." A soft haze fills your screen as her voice softens. "Do I need to fly back and tell the two of them to fuck off?"

"I can tell them to leave myself," you protest, but Shoko gives you a deadpan stare. "Okay, well, maybe it'll be hard."

As the silence falls, warm and comfortable, you bustle around the kitchen, spooning rice into your bowl of leftovers. The air is warm, and despite your exhaustion, you can't help but appreciate the dreaminess of the evening. Shoko watches you, dark eyes unreadable. "What?" you finally ask, curiosity lacing your voice.

"Just be careful," she sighs. "Satoru and Suguru will probably do some crazy shit to get you to notice them. I just don't want those idiots to scare you."

"They don't care enough to do that," is your sardonic reply, and this time, it's her turn to laugh.

"If you really think that, then you're blinder than I thought."

He is breaking me down on every side, and now it's too late for me; he has uprooted my hopes like a tree.

When the number of your old landline rings on Suguru's cellphone, he almost blocks it out of habit before he registers the last four digits. Panicking, he immediately accepts the call.

"Hey, is everything okay? I-"

Your mother's voice chirps back at him, a bit staticky from the old phone that he knows she'd insisted on keeping installed in the kitchen. "Suguru, dear, could you do me a favor?"

Ingrained instinct forces a "yes ma'am," from his mouth before he can even process the request. He can practically hear the smile in your mother's voice. "It won't take too long, don't worry. My back has been aching an awful amount after my last surgery, but I've been meaning to wear some of my old church clothes to Bingo Night. Would you mind grabbing it for me?"

The attic is cluttered and old, and the dust stings his eyes, but Suguru can't bring himself to complain as he begins to rummage through boxes. It feels like seeing you again, like being your Suguru again, as he unearths old photo albums, and stuffed toys. There was the rabbit you used to carry around all the time. A picture frame, of you, Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru one summer afternoon. Carefully, he wipes away the dust, smiling at the memory. You'd lost your front tooth that summer; now, it was forever memorialized.

Finally, he reaches a small collection of boxes in the back. The dress lays draped over a small stack of boxes, but as he grabs it, one topples over, spilling its contents all over the floor.

Suddenly, selfishly, Suguru is grateful that Satoru stayed behind back in their hotel room, because inside the cardboard box is envelopes. At least thousands of them, crammed into each possible corner, dates written on the front in the same handwriting you've had since high school. He tears open another box, only to find the same. Three whole boxes of letters. Selfish hope and heavier dread sinks into his skin like the dust that is slowly falling to the floor; Suguru has unearthed something that he knows he's not supposed to see.

Was this how Adam felt, holding the forbidden fruit in his hand? Which was stronger; the will of God, or the love of man?

"You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.

He's almost frantic as he searches for the first letter, scattering them around himself until he finds it; labelled a week after Suguru had taken Satoru with him to pursue what they had believed to be an impossible dream. Suguru hesitates only for a moment, until with one decisive swipe, he rips the flap from the waxy paper beneath. This one is addressed to him.

Suguru,

My parents put me in therapy. Remember how we always used to joke that if anyone needed it, it would be you? Why did you leave me? What did I do wrong? It hurts, Sugu, why, why, why My therapist thinks that keeping letters will help, and my parents want me to at least give it a try. Mom won't say anything, but I know she's concerned. Dad's already torn into Toru's parents, so the whole town is fully aware of what they've done. Shoko says that they're practically livid with shame, skulking around the town as that'll fix their reputation. You missed it; there was one night when the fireflies came back, and I swear they filled the entire sky. It was beautiful. It reminded me of the first time we met, do you remember that?

I wish you'd been here to see it. I'm sorry, Suguru. I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough to take along. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you I love you. I hope you're safe. I hope you're taking care of Toru for me.

I love you so much that it's hard to be mad.

Water drips down onto the ink of where you'd signed your name, and with a start, Suguru realizes he's crying. Gently folding the letter, he sets it aside, and reaches for the next one.

Mom and Dad have what Grandma had. I'm scared, Toru. I wish you were here. You'd always say something silly that would make me forget for even a moment.

Another.

I saw you on the television today, Toru. You're so beautiful it hurts.

Another.

I've given up on properly going to college. They're so sick that I'm terrified to leave them alone.

More. More. More.

I try my best not to listen, but the radio in the coffee shop plays the songs you make, Sugu. I hate it, but it's selfish of me. The girl you sing about, does Toru get along with her? Does she make you happy?

He can't stop himself from reading any more than he can stop the tears pouring down his face. They'd missed so much of your life, and yet you'd dutifully written letter after letter, as if you'd planned on them seeing it. Like you hoped they would come back some day. The next letter was only written two years ago, but it turns Suguru's blood to ice.

I saw the scandal on one of the gossip magazines while I was out shopping for groceries, Toru. The Chanel model? Really? I was kind of hoping for the Gucci one, she seems so nice to her assistant.

I say this like you're a celebrity. A celebrity that I can just laugh at, and say "must be nice, having supermodels fall into your lap!" You were mine, once, long before you were hers. I love loved you.

I did something stupid, last night. Remember Kenji, from high school? The one you always hated? I can't even explain it, how furious I was, when I saw you with that model. You looked so happy, like it didn't matter that all your joy and abundance didn't come at my expense.

I ended up sleeping with him for the first time, with anyone for the first time really. I'm not going to write more; it's embarrassing, and it wasn't even good, but I think I'm more upset with myself. It doesn't matter.

It's not like you'll ever find out. Even if you do, it's not like you'll care.

It's not like my love mattered to you to begin with.

Suguru's chest feels as though someone has washed his heart in acid. On paper, the person you were after they left was more jaded. Less optimistic. You no longer spoke of things you wished they were able to experience with you, but rather all the things they'd left behind. You thought they didn't care, and as he forces his useless lungs to take another breath, he knows that he can't leave this town until he convinces you to come with him. As he stumbles down from the attic, dress in hand, your mother gives him a knowing stare.

"Did you find the dress I asked you to grab?"

"Yes ma'am," Suguru says numbly. It's all he says. It's all he can say. Your mother sighs, patting the chair next to her. "Why don't you call Satoru over, hm? Try some of the tea I bought. I remember your mother saying you only drink black. You really should call her more."

Why is light given to a man whose way is hid, and whom God hath hedged in?

"I'm home!" you call out, slipping your shoes off with one hand as you balance the full bag of groceries in the other. "Did you take your medi-"

The carrots drop to the floor as you take in the sight of Gojo and Geto sitting at your kitchen table with your mother of all people. "What the fuck?"

Geto's eyes are rimmed red, like he'd been crying, while Satoru stares at you with a hint of anguish. "What the fuck," you repeat again, dumbfounded. "Why are you in my house right now?"

Geto opens his mouth to speak, but your mother waves it away. "You know how bad my back's been lately, I really wanted to wear that old emerald dress your father got me, do you remember?"

Stunned, you can only nod.

"And, I didn't want to have you come all the way back from the city just to grab a dress for me, so I called over Suguru and Satoru to help me out," your mother finishes. You can't stop the panic from leaking into your voice.

"Where was the dress?"

From the look on their faces, you know that Geto and Gojo have found it. All the letters you were too weak to send, too weak to throw away. How much did they read?

"The attic, dear," is your mother's quiet response, and when you turn her attention to her, you can see the quiet love and encouragement in her eyes.

What's more important? The love for all the things they did do, or all the things they didn't?

White noises rushes into your head, and you can barely process your mother's departure. Something about Bingo Night? The door clicks shut and you're left with silence so profound that your body almost instinctively crumples in on itself. Suguru can't look you in the eyes, absentmindedly tracing the rim of the delicate porcelain teacup that looks comically small next to his calloused hands. Satoru merely watches, but you can see the tension in his neck, in the way his fingers flex around empty air.

So, you do the only thing you can do. You run.

Turning, you all but sprint up the stairs. You lied. You couldn't do this, couldn't face them, see them, hear them-

Toned arms reach around from behind, pulling you decisively to a well-defined chest. The air is forced out of your lungs as you yelp, squirming out of the hold, only to freeze as Satoru places his cheek on your head, nuzzling into your hair.

"I missed you."

Tears spring to your eyes but Satoru keeps going. "You were the only thing that kept us going. Our apartment was so shitty, we had to put cardboard on the floor just to keep warm. I thought of you all the time. I thought of which stage outfit you'd like better, how you would get along so well with the other members of the group. We didn't forget you. We love you too much for that."

"Stop," you choke out, as your legs crumple under you. Satoru catches you, tugging you further into him, as tears trickle down your face. A blurred shape; Suguru, kneeling in front of you, gently taking your hands in his.

"One chance, princess," he breathes. "Give us one chance to explain ourselves. After that, we'll do whatever you want, give you whatever you want. We've only ever been yours."

#haerinwrites #idol!satoru gojo #rockstar!suguru geto #satoru gojo x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk angst #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #satoru x suguru x reader #satoru x reader #suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto x reader x gojo

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 10 months ago

Text

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: wanda maximoff, your domme and girlfriend, tests you with impossible rules, and subsequently punishes you for failing to follow them.

content warnings: obvi smut, restraints, impact play, edging, cunnilingus.

word count: 4k+

masterlist

original request

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

My Good Girl

The afternoon sun cast warm hues through the floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating the cozy office and casting soft shadows across the floor. Wanda sat at her desk, fingers absentmindedly tapping on the dark wood. Lines of text filled her screen, yet her mind was elsewhere.

With a soft hum of contemplation, Wanda closed the laptop, a soft click breaking through the peaceful silence of the room.

‘I want to try something new tonight.’

The text is sent with a soft sound, and Wanda traces her phone slowly as she waits for you to read the message. Her mind is thrown back to the plethora of information she’d spent the better half of the afternoon consuming.

Agatha, one of her closest friends, and a well-known domme, had sent her a few websites to check out. Wanda had let it slip during one of their wine nights that although she was happy with you and the dom/sub relationship you’d built, she wanted to try something more.

You were perfect. Truly. Submissive, and willing to do whatever she said. Wanda loved the thrill she got whenever you obeyed an order.

But you were almost too perfect.

One of the sites she’d pursued was full of dominants sharing the ways they put a bratty sub in their place. Wanda had found herself growing wetter with each post she scrolled through. Her mind had found itself wandering over to you.

You, tears welling up as she choked you with her strap. You, pulling uselessly on scarlet ribbon restraints as she teased you for hours. You, with your face scrunched up as she twisted and pulled on your nipples until you begged her for mercy.

The word mommy, slipping from your lips as you blushed.

Wanda had to take several breaks throughout her afternoon, her fingers slipping below her waistband and sliding over the slick arousal coating her panties. She’d thought of you while rubbing herself to a climax, imagining your wide eyes as you knelt before her…

Fuck. She was getting worked up again.

Her phone dinged, and Wanda had to physically shake herself while she scrambled for her phone. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone, seeing your message.

‘Of course we can! What did you have in mind?’

You were so eager to please, so willing to succumb to anything Wanda asked of you. She took a few deep breaths, typing out her response with one hand while quickly packing her bag.

‘When I get home, I want you naked and kneeling by the door. You will address me as ma’am, nothing else. Understood?’

Wanda could feel herself slipping into her dominant headspace, the thrill of giving orders rushing through her.

‘And if I break one of those rules?’

Oh, it was almost too easy.

‘I’ll have to punish you, darling. I’m on my way home. Remember my instructions.’

Slipping her phone into her pocket, Wanda cast one last look around her office before turning out the light. Locking up, she strode quickly down the hall, thankfully not seeing any other employees around.

The car ride home was agonizing, the heat between her legs growing into an unbearable inferno. Wanda couldn’t help but squeeze her thighs together at the thought of you breaking her rules.

And she knew just the thing to distract you and cause you to slip up.

At a stoplight just outside the city, about five minutes from your shared home, Wanda pulled out her phone. Knowing the light would take a while to turn green, she pulled up the locked photo album hidden in her files. Selecting a photo, she quickly sent it to you with no caption.

The photo was a selfie, the phone propped up against her work computer. Wanda had popped a few too many buttons, the lace of her red bra peeking out from underneath her silk shirt and jacket. Her eyes were locked on the camera, iridescent and smoldering, while the fingers of one hand were wrapped tightly around her tie, pulling it away from her neck. The other hand was resting on her belt, a single finger slipping beneath the waistband of her dress pants.

Wanda let her imagination run wild, imagining the flush creeping up your neck and coloring your face. Your breath would catch, pupils dilating as arousal shot through you. By the time you positioned yourself at the door, your juices would be smeared all over your delicate inner thighs, your eyes pleading and desperate.

The light turned green, and Wanda refocused. Only a few minutes until she'd be home.

The anticipation was killing her.

—

Wanda forced herself to slow her gait, walking leisurely up the steps to the front door. Her heels clicked on the pavement and she hoped that you could hear her approaching.

The door clicked open, the key sliding easily into the lock.

Green eyes found you easily, a pleased smile stretching across those beautiful lips as Wanda observed your kneeling form. Your eyes were just as wide as she’d hoped, your irises disappearing as your pupils dilated further at the sight of her.

“Hello, darling.”

Wanda made sure to pitch her voice low, a sultry tone making its way through her words. Her gaze pierced yours, a silent demand hidden within them.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Your voice shook, and you sucked in a shaky breath.

Your hands were placed atop your thighs, palms flat as you subtly parted your thighs. Wanda caught a glimpse of the shiny arousal coating your inner thighs, and she breathed deeply, hoping your scent would envelop her.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” Wanda asked, setting her bag down and slipping her jacket off her shoulders. She hung it up, flicking her fingers in silent order for you to follow.

“It was good, um, ma’am.” You stuttered, crawling after her as she made her way towards the living room.

Seating herself on the couch, Wanda crossed one leg elegantly over the other. You crawled up to her, eyes glancing between her lips and legs. You sat up, posture straight and palms flat, with your fingers thrumming nervously on your thighs.

“And what did my good girl do today?” Wanda smirked at you.

“Oh, I uh…” Your eyes grew distant as you tried to force yourself to focus. “I worked a little bit, and then I made some meal prep for the week, ma’am.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, “Anything else?”

You wracked your brain, trying to remember what you’d done that day. The only thing running through your mind was the insatiable picture Wanda had sent you. Your mind focused on the captivating curve of her breasts, the smoldering look in her eyes, similar to the one she was giving you now.

“Oh!” You remembered something, excitement weaving its way through your words. “I made you something!”

Wanda paused for a moment, seemingly waiting for something, but you were looking up at her with wide eyes and a satisfied grin.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You could sense the satisfaction in Wanda’s voice, and faltered.

“Ma’am.” You blurted out, but Wanda was already shaking her head.

“Too late, darling.”

You paled slightly, but Wanda could see the excitement glowing in your eyes. You were curious, anticipation thrumming through you. The flush on your face was slowly growing darker, the tips of your ears burning as the weight of Wanda’s gaze settled on you.

“Bedroom, now. You know what position I like you in.”

A punishment. That’s what you were receiving. You hadn’t had one of those in a long time, not since the beginning of your relationship with Wanda.

“Yes ma’am.” Your voice was quiet, and you stood, watching Wanda for any sign of disapproval. When she gave none, you turned and headed toward the bedroom, aware of her gaze burning on your hips.

Approaching the bed, you let your hand caress the soft silk of the comforter. Kneeling on top of the mattress, you take a steadying breath, listening for the click of Wanda’s heels.

You don’t have to wait for long. The slow, measured steps of Wanda’s confident gait reach your ears, and you subconsciously straighten your back. Ensuring that your gaze is locked on your hands, you resist the urge to look up when the soft light from the hallway hits your eyes as Wanda enters the room.

“Such a good girl.” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you feel some of your arousal leak out and drip down your thighs.

You don’t speak, knowing that Wanda likes to command every part of you, including your words. Instead, you offer a small smile, eyes locked on her form as she walks toward the closet. She disappears inside, throwing a smile over her shoulder.

A whimper threatens to escape you, but you choke it down. If Wanda heard one errant sound from you, she’d surely increase your punishment. That’s the last thing you want, so you simply resist the urge to shift on the bed and wait.

The minutes stretch on, and you mentally curse your girlfriend out. You knew she was doing this on purpose, building up the anticipation. You want to call out, but your words get stuck in your throat, not wanting to add to your punishment.

So you wait, your arousal building with each minute until the sheets below you are damp.

You hear the door open, the heady presence of Wanda Maximoff filling the room. The sheer dominance that she emanates washes over you, loosening your muscles as your head grows fuzzier.

You can trust her. Wanda only wants what’s best for you.

“You’re doing so well for me, love,” Wanda says, moving onto the bed and kneeling before you. She’s still fully clothed, her buttoned shirt brushing against your skin in a tantalizing dance as she sets a few items beside her. You don’t dare look, keeping your eyes trained on your hands until she commands you otherwise.

“Look at me.”

Green eyes seem slightly softer in the dim light, and you search them for any clue of what the night entails.

“Tell me why I’m punishing you,” The words jumpstart your brain, and you begin speaking as Wanda picks up a silky, scarlet ribbon.

“I forgot one of your rules, I’m sorry, mo…” The word almost slips from your lips, but you clench them shut.

Wanda raises an eyebrow at you, almost daring you to continue. You remain silent, still not ready to use the title you want. Your mind wars with itself, the waves of indecision subsiding when Wanda gently smiles at you and brushes her fingers lightly against your cheek.

Her eyes are soft, and you know that she won’t press the topic. Not until you’re ready.

“And which rule was that?”

“I forgot to call you ma’am, I’m sorry,” You say, your voice earnest.

At your practically whimpered words, Wanda has already forgiven you. However, the thought of punishing you is far too tantalizing, so she picks up one of the silk ribbons.

“And you know what this is, correct?”

“Yes ma’am,” You won’t be forgetting her title anytime soon, and Wanda feels pride shoot through her at your steadfast obedience. She gently pushes you backwards, until you realize what she’s doing.

Positioning yourself on your back, you stretch your arms out toward the headboard, enjoying the feel of the scarlet ribbon around your wrist as Wanda begins to restrain you. Your clit pulses when she tightens the ribbon securely, and you fight the urge to roll your hips.

Quickly fastening your other wrist to the headboard, Wanda waits for you to test the strength. She smirks while you writhe beneath her, attempting to escape. You squirm, your hips restrained by her thighs as she sits atop you, her fingernails scraping lightly down your sides before you give up.

“Thank you, ma’am.” You say, and Wanda’s eyes light up in pleasure.

In one smooth movement, she flips you over, her fingers digging into your hips as she roughly positions you on your stomach. Your wrists cross over each other at the change of position, her hands pulling your body down until you can barely move an inch.

A hand on the back of your head shoves your face into a soft pillow, and you turn your cheek slightly to be able to breathe. Wanda doesn't seem to notice, her attention focused on the item she now holds in her hand.

You catch a glimpse of the paddle and whine. It’s been a while since she’s used that toy on you, and you vividly remember the last experience. You hadn’t been able to sit down for three days.

“Remember your colors, sweetheart.” Wanda reminds you, and you nod into the pillow as her hand gently squeezes the flesh of your ass.

The first strike takes you by surprise, and your body jolts, attempting to escape the sharp sting. You hear Wanda chuckling above you and can practically feel her eyes appraising the bright red mark that the paddle left. Before you’ve recovered from the first hit, the paddle swings down again, pain and pleasure mixing as she strategically places marks across your whole backside.

When the paddle hits the sensitive skin of your upper thigh, you let out a yelp.

“Darling?” Wanda asks. You can’t formulate a response and your breaths are heavy and fast. You tug at the restraints, a soft green tumbling past your lips.

The hits are quick and hard, pain radiating through you even as your clit throbs. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheet beneath you. The humiliation of the situation only turns you on more, and it’s not long before you’re moaning softly into the pillow.

A heavy sigh makes its way through you when Wanda pauses, setting the paddle down beside you. “Color,” She demands, her hands cool against your abused flesh.

“Green, thank… thank you,” Your words are breathy, stuttering when Wanda’s fingers graze your slit.

A single finger circles your clit, and you can’t help but push your ass upwards, trying to appease the tension between your legs.

“Oh,” Wanda says, her voice full of mirth. “It seems like you want more, love.”

Nodding frantically, you roll your hips forward.

A sharp pain makes its way through you, Wanda’s hand coming down quickly against your sensitive backside. You let out a half moan, half yelp at the action.

“Don’t rut against the bed like a pathetic mutt,” She practically growls, bringing her hand down sharply a few more times. “You’re practically begging for a punishment.”

You want to complain, you want to whine about the injustice of it all. Instead, you remain quiet, not wanting to risk more pain. You can feel Wanda shifting, and bite your lip when the cool leather of the paddle drags across your overheated backside.

“Do you want more?” Wanda asks, and you can’t do anything but nod. You turn your head, peeking at her from the corner of your eye. Her green eyes are locked on the swell of your ass, and you shudder at the hungry look in them.

“Beg for it.”

The paddle presses against your clit, the pressure sending pleasure coursing through you. Resisting the urge to grind against it, you grit your teeth and speak. “Please, ma’am. I want you to hit me. Punish me, please, I’ve been a bad girl.”

Wanda doesn’t respond, instead raising the paddle and delivering more blows to your aching backside.

You begin to moan, the pain morphing into a sick sort of pleasure. With each blow, your clit is pressed against the mattress, your orgasm approaching rapidly. You know better than to beg, you’d learned long ago that Wanda liked to control every aspect of your pleasure, including when you were allowed to cum.

“Are you close?” Wanda asks, not giving you a chance to respond before she continues to speak, “I can see you dripping onto the sheets, your hips rutting pathetically of their own will. Do you want to cum, baby? Do you want to cum while mommy hits you with the paddle?”

The words worm their way into your mind, twisting your thoughts while pleasure and pain consume your being. Her hits don’t cease, the leather paddle slapping against you over and over again.

The pillow is damp beneath your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you’d begun to cry, and a whine escaped your mouth without your permission. It only spurs Wanda on.

“Oh, you like this, don’t you darling? You like being mommy’s little fucktoy, taking whatever I give you. Say it.”

You barely register her words, something incoherent spewing from your mouth as she delivers the harshest blows of the night. One of Wanda’s hands tangles with your hair, wrenching your head up from the pillow.

“Say it.” Her voice is deadly, low, and raspy. You don’t dare disobey.

“I like it, I like it when you treat me like this. Please don’t stop. Please, fuck.” You cut yourself off, feeling Wanda swing the paddle harshly at the curse word.

“Mommy, please.”

Relief. Your brain starts to work again. The pain radiating from your backside subsides slightly as Wanda drops the paddle to the floor. You feel as though you should be embarrassed, but don’t.

Truth be told, you’ve wanted to call Wanda by that title for a while, and at this moment, it just felt right.

“Say that again for me, darling.”

You feel your body being manhandled again, your hips twisting until you’re on your back again. Green eyes stare down at you, a slightly dazed look in them. Wanda’s fingers trace patterns on your ribcage, moving up to tease your nipples while she waits.

“Mommy,” Your voice is quiet, almost shy, but the word is genuine. “Please let me cum.”

Wanda can’t bring herself to punish you any longer. Not after you’ve finally used the title she’s been yearning for. She finds herself suddenly incapable of speaking, the words catching in her throat.

Surging forward, Wanda presses her impossibly soft lips to yours. Her tongue dances against yours, tracing your lips and drawing soft moans from you. You fight the urge to roll your hips, her thigh pressed perfectly against your center.

Her tongue explores your mouth for what seems like forever, and you find yourself growing wetter with each minute. You can’t complain, though. Kissing Wanda will always be something you treasure.

Eventually, the need for air becomes too great, and Wanda pulls back. Her eyes search yours, a smile slowly stretching across her face.

“Good girl,” She coos, a hand reaching up and cupping your cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart,”

You grin, sure that your eyes are sparkling as you gaze up at her. From this angle, she looks almost angelic, with her hair falling around you. You don’t mind, if you could choose anything to worship, Wanda would be the first and only thing on your list.

“I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay?” She says, not giving you a chance to respond before she’s descending your body. She leaves open-mouthed kisses on your skin, enjoying the way you jolt beneath her whenever she nips you with her teeth.

The bruises she leaves behind fill her with pride and a hint of possessiveness, and she gazes up at you when her mouth finally reaches the glistening heat between your thighs.

“Please,” You whisper, throwing your head back when her tongue applies gentle pressure against your clit.

It’s practically torture, her skilled mouth alternating between sucking and licking your clit as your orgasm approaches quickly. You want to reach down and tangle your fingers with her hair, pulling her flush against you, and tug uselessly at your restraints.

Your hips twitch violently, a sign that you’re close to an orgasm. A few… more… strokes of that talented tongue…

Wanda pulls away, and you whine loudly. Her fingers twist your nipple harshly in response, and you mumble a quick apology.

“None of that,” Wanda reprimands, “you take whatever I give you, remember?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, burying her head between your thighs before you can fully catch your breath. This time, she sucks your clit violently, red-hot bolts of pleasure shooting through you as your thighs tense.

Her mouth disappears.

Giving you a few moments to recover, Wanda watches the realization enter your eyes. You mumble, “You’re going to edge me, aren’t you?”

Chuckling, Wanda circles your clit with a single finger. She watches your eyes gloss over as your hips twitch. Pressing harder, she moves rhythmically over the hard nub, enjoying the moans reverberating around the room. You tense up, lips parting as your orgasm draws near…

“Only good girls get to cum, darling,” Wanda pulls her fingers fully away from you.

You want to scream. You want to curse her out, you want to escape your restraints and hump her thigh until you cum. You want to…

A moan claws its way out from your chest, and Wanda takes that as a sign to continue.

You don’t know how long she edges you, the only thing you’re aware of is the growing arousal between your thighs and the pleasure that builds and builds and dissipates whenever Wanda senses that you’re close.

After a while, the fuzziness takes over your mind, and you lose count of the edges as Wanda’s tongue relentlessly works against your core. She keeps her fingers locked around your thighs, refusing to give your pussy any sort of real satisfaction.

Practically crazed with arousal and desperation, you attempt to roll your hips against Wanda’s lips.

“Do you want me to bring the paddle out again?” Wanda raises a single eyebrow, her hand raising and striking your swollen pussy. The sting shoots through your clit, and you jerk your hips as you recoil from the pain.

“No, I’m sorry mommy. Please…” You moan as Wanda’s warm mouth encircles your clit. “Please forgive me.”

Time blends with the countless edges, and you find yourself lost in a pleasurable vanilla haze. The only thing you’re aware of is Wanda. Her tongue, building you up. Her eyes, watching you as her fingers hold your thighs and hips against the mattress. Her scent, an addicting drug that you never want to abstain from.

Your orgasm, just barely out of reach. Wanda, bringing you closer and closer and…

—

You open your eyes, your vision seeming sharper than before. Warm water surrounds you, suds covering your chest as a warm washcloth gently rubs against your collarbone.

“Mommy?”

Wanda moves into your field of vision, her eyes filled with concern. You smile widely, relaxing further into the water. You want to reach up and pull her face closer, yearning to feel her lips against yours, but your limbs don’t seem to work properly.

“Hi, sweetheart. You scared me,” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you can sense the worry underneath her accent.

“I’m alright, I promise,” You reassure her, resting your head against the side of the tub. “But…” Trailing off, you watch Wanda’s brows furrow in concern.

“I still really want to cum.”

Wanda scoffs, splashing you lightly as you laugh. Allowing yourself to fully relax, you let her wash away your sweat, her hands gentle as she scrubs the dried arousal off your thighs.

“You don’t get to cum tonight, I'm punishing you.” Wanda sounds like she’s about to whine, and you splash her. The water droplets cling to her hair, and you laugh at her pout, your arms working again as you pull her in by the neck for a kiss.

Her tongue dances languidly alongside yours, and you push down the arousal that attempts to rise. Honestly, you’d get aroused if Wanda simply walked into a room. With her lips on yours, it’s much harder to tamper your desperation for her.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Wanda mumbles against your lips, and you roll your eyes.

Eventually, Wanda ends the impromptu makeout session, finishing the bath and drying you off. She applies some aloe vera to your sore backside, kissing the marks softly as she does so.

You’ve never felt more loved.

Sliding in between fresh, cool sheets, Wanda pulls you flush against her. Your head is comfortably nestled in the crook of her neck, and you can feel her heartbeat against your palm.

Gentle lips kiss the top of your head, and you feel yourself drifting off. Wanda hums, murmuring one final thing before you finally succumb to the waves of drowsiness washing over you.

“Happy Valentine's Day, my love.”

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta

819 notes · View notes

teliphone · 7 months ago

Text

Blackmail

Summary: You have been receiving text messages from an unknown caller. They know secrets that you didn't know yet. They use that as an advantage to string you closer to them. You need someone to treat you right.

Warning(s): Smut, Obsessive Behavior, Blackmail, Threats, Manipulations, Cheating, Praise Kink

Word Count: 6.2k

A buzz from your phone vibrates the table, cutting you off mid-sentence. Your eyes stare at your phone which is facing down towards the cafeteria table. It vibrates several more times, suggesting you received more than just one text. You decide to ignore it because you had a feeling it may be from the unknown caller. The sender has been messaging you since last week. At first, the texts were weird but easier to handle. You believed it was a prank, but soon the texts started sounding more personal. Filled with uncomfortable threats and blackmail. As if the person knows you or about you. Someone in this school.

You uncomfortable shift your weight to the opposite side, away from the phone. Noticing you have been staring at your phone for too long, you look back up at your best friend, Amber. You give her a sweet fake smile. She follows your eyes and nibbles the bottom of her lips.

“Aren’t you going to check?” She questions. She leans forward to grab your phone.

It’s normal for her to check considering you two have been best friends since middle school. She’d sometimes toss her phone aside and scroll through yours instead. Which is acceptable to you because you had nothing to hide from her. Especially since you believe she’s just scrolling through your media apps. She claims that your feed is far more entertaining than hers. You trust her with almost everything. On the other hand, she trusts you with everything she has. You weren’t the type to snoop much but with Amber's absolute trust in you… you could look through every single app on her phone. It was a joke at first when she gave you permission. To tease her and make her panic. There’s no way she’s that nonchalant. You’d bite your lips and narrow your eyes at her, finger lingering over the search history or deleted photo albums like a trigger. She gives no response. Just a shrug and a classic Amber response of:

“I have nothing to hide from you.”

You roll your eyes and a groan escaped your lips. Letting the mobile device slip off your fingers and onto her bed.

“No fun,” You sigh.

This time you do have a secret to hide. Those texts were something you did not want Amber to read or see. They consist of things even Amber does not know. The last thing you want is for her to be worried for you. As she reaches for your phone, you quickly snatch it away. Shoving it into your pockets. Her face is in shock. You have never been so defensive towards her.

“It’s nothing really. It’s just Ethan,” You lie. You couldn’t look at her expression and focus on the forgotten meal in front of you. She returns her hands back to her side slowly. Her eyes never leave yours. She decides to not interrogate you in front of all the other classmates. She’s going to find out sooner or later.

“Oh okay... What does he want?” She asks with a hint of annoyance. She hates your so-called “boyfriend”. She does not believe you two are meant to be together.

“He wanted to hang out tonight. His parents are gone on a trip,” You half lie.

“You didn’t read the text,” She informs, narrowing her eyes at you. You shoot her a look of annoyance. What is this all of a sudden? An investigation?

“He’s been asking me since this morning okay?” You protest, “I know it’s him because he’s been desperate and a bit horny…. I-“ You pause. Secretly glancing around you in case someone hears. Every other student seems to be invested in their own conversations to pay attention to yours. Amber leans forward because she’s intrigued.

“I haven’t been doing it with him,” You breathe out. At least this time you weren’t lying to Amber. She groans in response. Pushing her food away from herself as an expression she lost her appetite.

“I’m going to start heading to class. Have fun with him tonight,” She cringes. She stands up and walks to your side. She leans down to give you a kiss on the head before walking away. Once she was out of sight, you pull out your phone.

Your boyfriend is cheating on you.

You’re just a sweet slut for him to use.

I see how you look at her.

He doesn’t love you.

Break up with him. You don’t deserve him anyway.

You feel a heaviness in your heart. There’s no way he’s cheating on you… right? You brush your head in frustration. You shouldn’t trust a random text message. You are not going to let this ruin your life.

“I guess I’m not hanging out with him tonight,” You inform Amber as you place your phone down on your bed. She rolls herself over til she is laying on her stomach on the left side of the bed. She’s still wearing her clothes from earlier at school. You sit on the right side wearing a graphic t-shirt and sleeping shorts. Her face lightens up and smiles.

“What happened?” Her question is a little too exciting. You bring your thighs up to your chest and rest your chin on top of your knee.

“He suddenly-“

“You know what? I don’t care,” She quickly cuts you off. You give her a soft smile.

“You don’t even love him. It’s a waste of time,” She bickers, shuffling around uncomfortably. Her shoulders bumped against your feet a couple of times.

“I don’t love him… yet,” You correct her. She stops moving and you watch her chest move up and down fast. She quickly sits up which makes you widen your eyes. She scoots closer and places her hands on your knees. You lean back till your head hits the board of the bed.

“Do you like having sex with him?” She challenges. Her eyes glisten from the lamp beside the bed. The only light source in the room. Your eyes glance down to her plump lips and flicker shut. Turning your head to the side.

“Sometimes,” You admit, staring at the wall. You suddenly feel the heat rise to your cheeks. Amber tilts her head as she slowly analyzes the side of your features.

“That’s not enough,” She breathes, staring at your lips. Her short fingernails graze against the skin of your knees. You shallow the knot in your throat. You look back up to meet her dilated dark eyes. She looks a little insane. She smiles, tilting her head slightly. Your heart quickens embarrassingly. Your legs drop from your chin into a cross position in an attempt to cool off. She bites her lips playfully.

“What do you like?”

“What do you mean?” You whisper.

“During bed,” She deadpan. You furrow your eyebrows and brush her fingers off your knees. The small circles she had been drawing were driving you crazy.

“Why would I tell you?” You giggle. She leans forward and rests her head on your shoulders. You swear she could hear your heart hammering against your chest.

“Come on. We’re best friends. We share everything,” Her breath fans against your neck. She snuggles closer and you squeeze your eyes shut. Her scent clouds your thoughts and it took every muscle in your body to gently push her away.

“Amber stop,” You hesitate. In another second you would fall into temptation. She groans in defeat and falls back onto your bed. Her hair spread across your pillow. She’s visibly upset, but you didn’t really understand why. You had a boyfriend and you hate cheating. She should know that. But you also didn’t blame her for feeling frustrated. You can’t hide your attraction toward her. It’s so obvious. It’s like a game between you two. Truthfully, it’s toxic… and you hate that you enjoy it. A game where you will end up breaking your morals and submitting to your thoughts. She lets out a loud sigh and pushes herself off the bed.

“Where are you going?” You puzzle. You want her to stay next to you. She fluffs her hair and adjusts her clothes.

“I have to go home. My parents told me to be back for a dinner party with some neighbors,” She explains.

“I see,” You try to not sound disappointed. Usually, she would stay til late. To the point where you will have to beg her to leave so that her parents wouldn’t get angry at her. She hides her smile and walks towards the bedroom door. Stopping at the door frame she turns around.

“Don't miss me too much. I’ll come to pick you up for school tomorrow,” She promises before leaving you alone in your room. You pout and fall onto your bed, inhaling the lingering scent of Ambers perfume. You close your eyes and feel your body start to relax.

Buzz. Your phone vibrates and you ignore it.

Buzz.

Buzz. You shuffle.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You groan in frustration. With eyes still closed you brush your hands around the bedsheets to locate the phone. You bring the phone to your face and start reading the text.

Y/n I have news for you.

Do you really think Ethan is studying for his econ exam right now?

Are you that naive?

He’s too easy to please.

Btw you look good today baby.

Especially now in those shorts.

You feel panic zap throughout your body. The room suddenly feels cold and too dark. You run to your windows and shut the curtains as fast as you can. Clutching the phone close to your chest. You take a seat back on the bed. With shaky hands, you text back.

Who are you?

A second later you get a reply.

Yay I finally got your attention!

Do you want a surprise?

How do you know what I’m wearing?

You’re asking so many questions. I can tell you’re nervous lol.

Answer me. Two minutes pass.

Not yet, baby. The nickname makes you sick in the stomach.

I’m sorry I made you feel anxious. I don’t mean to. Here’s the surprise as an apology.

File attached

You nervously hover over the link. Clicking it causes a photo to appear on the screen. At first, you couldn’t figure out what it was showing. You narrow your eyes and look closer. The photo is blurry and a bit dark. The only light source coming in is from the gaps between wherever the photo is taken. You zoom in on the bright area. A portion of Ethan’s body is evident. He’s in the motion of putting on a shirt. Your eyes widen in realization. The unknown caller is hidden in your boyfriend's closet. You jump out of bed and open your phone to call the cops. A text notification appears above the phone dial before you could finish pressing the last number.

Don’t call the cops or I’ll kill him.

You gasp and drop your phone.

“Oh my god!” You cry out. You rush to your closet and pull down your shorts to put on jeans. Fumbling and breathing heavily. You feel yourself sweating from anxiety and fear. You have to get to his house and save him.

You knock vigorously against his front door. The thick wood is starting to hurt your hand from how hard you’re pounding on the door.

“Ethan! Ethan, are you okay?! Open the door!” You pant. You continue knocking for who knows how long. A dark figure appears behind the blurry glass and you’re breathing hicks. The door opens revealing Ethan wearing his boxers and a blue t-shirt. His hair is disheveled as if he had just woken up from a nap. You stare at him in shock and confusion. You start touching him to check for any bruises or cuts. Turning him around and checking up and down his body.

“Woah babe! What’s wrong?” He gasps at your action.

“Is there anyone in your room?” You worry. He widens his eyes slightly for a split second before averting his gaze to the left of you and back. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

“What? Why would I? I have no one over,” He answers. His answer didn’t satisfy you.

“Let me check your room,” You demand. You try to walk past him, but he holds you back. You look up and let out a frustrated sigh. He is desperately trying to reach the same level of concern as you, but he didn’t understand a single thing happening.

“Is something wrong? Are you okay?” He inquires. You attempt to push his hand away, but his grip is firm. Your eyes start to water from intense anxiety. His hold softens and he reaches up to hold your face.

“I- I received a picture of you. Someone is hidden in your room. I was so worried I came here as fast as possible. I was afraid someone was going to hurt you,” You fret. He finally understands your actions.

“Hey, I am okay. I’m here with you right now. It’s alright,” He comforts. You sniff and reach up to hold his triceps. He pulls you into a deep hug. You stay in that position until your breathing starts to calm down. His warmth comforts you. His fingers tip gently grazing on top of your scalp.

He never let you check his room that night. But that was okay because you trust him. As long as he is okay like he claimed to be, there shouldn’t be any need for you to check.

The next morning you sat extremely quiet in Amber’s car which is now parked in front of school. Who is the person texting you? Will they actually harm the people you love? How did they get a picture of Ethan? Did they set up a camera? Is there a camera hidden in your room? So many thoughts flood your mind that you didn’t realize Amber was talking to you. She waves a hand in front of your face. You blink and look up at her. Her eyebrows furrow with a concerned look. She places her hand on your cheek.

“There you are. Did something happen last night?” She worries. You tilt your head away from her palm and look down. Her eyes flash with hurt as she returns her hand back to her side. You don’t know if you should tell her about the text messages you have been receiving. You didn’t want her to worry. You also didn’t want the unknown messenger to start threatening Amber if she were to find out. On the other hand, you knew you needed someone to be there with you. You can’t handle this alone. The only person who you fully love and trust is her. Amber.

“Amber,” You finally whimper. A tear rolls down your cheek as you look at her. Waves of emotion come crashing down. All you need is for her to…to… no. All you need is her. Everything about her will help. She quickly engulfs you in a hug. She doesn’t ask you any questions but waits til you start to catch your breath. You slowly pull away from the hug first. She waits patiently. You lick your lips and pull out your phone. Quietly pressing onto the unknown contact to reveal the messages that have been haunting you. You hand it over to her. You watch as she scrolls and reads the texts. Her face starts to turn into pure anger. She grips your phone. Her eyes enlarge and glisten.

“How long has this person been texting you,” She demands.

“Almost two weeks,” You confess. She angrily rubs her hair away from her face.

“Why haven’t you called the cops?!”

“B-because I am scared! They threatened me! If I called the cops, what would they do to Ethan?! What would they do to you?! I cannot let anything happen to you two, especially you!” You explode. Thinking about any harm being inflicted on her makes your blood boil. Your hands start to shake without noticing. She looks down at your shaking body and pauses.

“Do.. do you think this person is trying to help you?” She wonders out loud.

“What?” You look at her in disbelief.

“Think about it. This person has been warning you about Ethan. How you shouldn’t trust him. Maybe he’s been lying to you and-” She rambles.

“Are you serious right now?” You glare. She quickly shuts her mouth. She knew she messed up. You are starting to feel like you regret telling her. You unlock the passenger door and walk out. Slamming the car door behind you.

“Y/n!” Amber cries out. You ignore her and continue walking at a fast pace. A few students hanging out at the front glance at you two. She stumbles over her own footsteps to catch up to you.

“Baby I am sorry! Y/n, please! I am just trying to make sense of this situation!” She calls out again. You stop walking and took a deep breath in. She finally catches up, leaning over to collect herself. You swallow your pride.

“I am sorry too. I didn’t mean to get mad… it’s just. I just wish you are wrong. I couldn’t imagine if you were right. I trust him. You of all people should know that,” You admit. Before she could reply, the school bell rings. Signaling that it is time for all students to get to class. You two glance at each other and quietly walk to class.

Two classes have already passed and you are currently sitting at your third. A few students whisper among each other talking about whatever topic is floating around. You drum your fingertips against the wood of your desk. Your eyes stare around at your classmates. Could one of them be the unknown caller? Tara sits next to you on the right. She is currently wearing a blue sweater. Her hair was slightly curled and a few front strands tied to the back. She is bored as she scrolls on her phone, waiting for class to start. She stops scrolling and side-eyes you. She catches you staring at her.

“What?” She asks.

“Nothing,” You answer. She returns her attention back to her phone. It can’t be her. Amber and she are closer than you are with Tara. There’s no reason for her to distress her friends’ best friend. You look ahead and see Wes. He is wearing a gray t-shirt. He is currently organizing his desk. A perfectly sharp pencil to the left of him and a clean page in the front. You’ve talked to him a few times. He’s an absolute sweetheart, yet Amber always liked to pick on him. You couldn’t tell if she was just joking or if she actually hated him.

Buzz. Your heart quickens again. You pull out the phone from your pocket.

Hi baby!

What do you want?

Wow, what a fast response! I am starting to feel like we are becoming good friends!

Stop texting me. Please.

Awh you’re begging. Sorry I can’t, but no worries. I have another surprise!

Break up with Ethan today during lunch hours. You blink.

Publicly announce it. If you don’t before lunch ends… I’ll give everyone a taste of what your boyfriends’ been up to. Don’t test me, baby.

Your ears muffle the surrounding noises. What just happened? What did they mean by “a taste of what your boyfriends been up to”? There’s no way they would-

“Y/n,” Tara’s voice brings you back to life.

“W-what?” You stutter. She points to the front of the room and your eyes follow her direction. The teacher stood with her arms crossed as she stares.

“Put away the phone. Class started,” She barks.

The teacher goes on and on with her lesson, but of course, you did not listen to a single full sentence. You mostly stared at your desk in deep thought. Afraid of what is going to happen. Class ended rather fast… or slowly. You couldn’t tell anymore. You rush out down the halls and see a familiar figure. It's Amber. She is currently talking to a few classmates. One hand holding a textbook while the other she uses to brush her hair. A classmate giggles and playfully slaps Amber's shoulder. You roll your eyes and walk up beside Amber. Her full attention immediately falls on you and you smile. She waves her hands as a signal for the nameless classmates to walk away. They glare at you as they walk by. Funny how fast their face changes once she’s not looking.

“They hate me,” You mumble, leaning against Amber's locker. She giggles and touches her heart chain necklace. You watch as she rubs against the heart.

“No one could hate you. You’re perfect,” She corrects as she softly pushes you off her locker. You obey and rest on the locker next to hers. She opens it and places her textbook inside. You watch her closely, tilting your head against the metal doors. Looking at her calms you. She catches you staring and smiles, tilting her head to match yours. You two stare at each other until a name calls for you. Amber rolls her eyes and slams her locker shut. She didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Hey there babe,” Ethan greets. He grabs your waist and pulls you close to his. Peppering kisses around your face. You giggle awkwardly before pushing him off. Amber's face remains expressionless.

“Ready for lunch? There’s no econ group project to work on today, so what better use of time than to eat with my girl,” He beams. Amber makes a gagging sound. You pinch her arm. Ethan looks at Amber and awkwardly rubs his neck.

“Y-you can join us too, you know,” He offers. Amber gives him a knowing look. Something you didn’t understand, but he did. When did he talk to her enough to understand this? From what you remember: Amber hates him and Ethan is scared of Amber. What are you missing? There’s an awkward pause in the air. As if the two of them were speaking through their eyes. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Sure,” Amber finally speaks up. Ethan smiles and nods his head in satisfaction. As if he wanted you to congratulate him for his effort in trying to get closer to your best friend. You take a step forward towards the cafeteria. He reaches his arm over your shoulders while Amber links her arm around yours. You stop in shock as the two stare at each other. Amber is the one that removes her arm from you. She swears under her breath. The three of you reach a table. Ethan goes off to grab some food while Amber sits in front of you, snacking on some chips. She is disinterested in the chips. Her attention is more on you and… Ethan? She has not spoken a word. Your leg bops up and down in nervousness. You think back to the texts. You have to break up with Ethan soon or… You look up at Amber. Her eyes dilate and glisen. She tilts her head to the side and smiles widely. Plopping a chip in her mouth. You shift uncomfortably against her gaze. Ethan returns with two trays.

“Here babe. I got your favorite,” He chirps. You feel sick in the stomach from the anxiety. Food never looked so unappetizing til now. He starts chewing on his food and secretly glances up at Amber. She could not care less about him right now. She continues looking at you. As if she’s waiting for you to do something… say something…?

Time ticks by. How long has it been? How long have you been pondering and begging for time to stop? Your heart pounds harder. Sweat starts to appear slightly on top of your forehead. Ethan seems awkward in the silence, not knowing what to do or say. Amber starts to look bored.

“Ethan…” You hesitate. This gets both of their attention.

“I- I have something to say”

Ding Ding Ding.

“Shit,” You cuss.

It’s the sound of the school bell.

Lunch is over.

The students start getting up from their seats and cleaning their area. Amber crumbles her bag of chips and tosses it on Ethan's tray. You want the earth to swallow you so you could disappear.

Suddenly many buzzes start echoing throughout the cafeteria. The students halt their movement to retrieve their phones. Gasps can be heard from all around you. You look around and everyone is staring at you. Some looked disgusted, some in shock, some cheering and some were whistling at you. It is such a mixed reaction, you didn’t understand. Ethan opens his phone and freezes. His face immediately turns red with fear and shame. Amber opens her phone as well and widens her eyes. She hands her phone screen to you.

“Oh my goodness… Y/n… You have to look-”

“No! Don’t look!” Ethan begs. He grips her wrist with a frantic look. He’s begging her to stop. She glares at him and tries to jerk her hand away. You decide to listen to her and grab the phone. The picture on the screen was Ethan. Nude. Doggy styling some girl, but the girl was cropped. Unidentified. But you could not care less who the girl was. It wasn’t you.

“You’ve been cheating on me?!” You scream. The whole cafeteria quiets down. Ethan licks his dry lips and brings his hands up in an attempt to hold you. You take a step back away from him. He disgusts you now. Tears start to build up and fall over your cheeks. You bring the back of your hand to wipe the tears. You can’t let him or any of these students see you cry,

“I- I-”

“How fucken dare you!” You cut him off, “ I trusted you! All you do in return is sleep with some bitch?! You’re fucken pathetic,”

“Y/n… That girl… She’s-”

“Shut up!” Amber orders, “You’ve messed up enough. Don’t talk to Y/n again. She hates you.” She gets up from her seat and walks towards you. She wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you away from the crowd. Away from all this betrayal and embarrassment. Ethan pushes against the crowd.

“Let me explain!” He begs. You quickly turn around and shoot him the deadliest glare.

“We are over,” You swore. His shoulders drop in defeat. The crowd shallows him with many comments and questions:

“Bro what the fuck man. Why would you do that to her?”

“I didn’t think you’d be that bad.”

“Of course. I knew he was too good to actually be good.”

“I feel so bad for Y/n.”

“Yo, that was insane!”

Amber successfully dragged you to the front of the school. A place where there are no students currently. You sob uncontrollably. You feel so frustrated, betrayed, and embarrassed. You attempt to push away from Amber. To hide your face and run away from everyone.

“Hey, hey stop it,” Amber begins. She holds you to catch a glimpse of your face. You fight against her. Nearly knocking her over.

“Y/n,” She begs. You surrender and let her do whatever she wants. You are too emotionally unstable to do anything. She brushes her thumb across your cheek. You whimper in an attempt to stop crying. Your lips quiver and her eyes soften. You sniff as tears continue to roll down.

“I am so sorry this happened to you,” All you could do is nod.

“Take me home,” Your voice coarse.

The whole car ride was quiet. Amber would glance over worriedly once in a while. You stare out the window. She nibbles the bottom of her lip. Her grip on the steering wheel was hard. After a while, she finally makes a turn into your house. You sit in silence in her car. She shifts in her seat to face you. You can hear her breathing.

“D-do you want me to stay with you tonight? You can come over to mine tonight if you want. My parents went on a business trip,” She whispers.

“No. Thank you, Amber. I will see you tomorrow,” You answer, unbuckling your seatbelt. As you reach for the door, she holds your arm.

“Text me tonight okay?” She requests. You didn’t answer, but she knew you would do it.

You walk into your room and collapse onto your bed. You could no longer cry. You were so tired you had to close your eyes and sleep. About a few hours later you hear many knocks on your door. You stir awake feeling sick and uncomfortable. The pounding continues, forcing yourself to get up and towards the door. You open the door and see Ethan. His hair is messy and he sweats through his shirt. Seems like he has been running. You swing to slam the door shut, but he blocks it.

“Please let me explain,” He begs. You’re so sick and tired of hearing him. Sick of hearing his voice. You release your grip on the door. He walks into the room and takes a deep breath. He wastes no time seeing that this is the only chance you would let him speak.

“It’s Amber,” He confesses. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“W-what?” You breathe.

“The girl in the picture. It’s Amber,” He could no longer look you in the eye. Your eyes begin to water again. A painful ache rises in your heart.

“Why? Why would she-”

“I don’t know. She wanted to have sex all of a sudden. We did it once. I swear,”

“She wouldn’t do that to me,” You deny. He ruffles his hair and shakes his head.

“She did. But she… This is so fucked… She kept moaning your name,” He rasps. His cheeks turn red.

“What the fuck are you saying?” You cuss. This makes no sense to you. In fact, it is starting to creep you out. How many secrets did your close friends keep? How many more lies are there to break your heart?

“Talk to Amber. She’s insane in the head. She’s obsessed with you, Y/n!”

“Get out,”

“I will. I am so sorry for everything. Part of it is my fault. I am weak and I fell for her seduction. Please confront Amber. She has to tell you the whole truth,” He emphasizes. He leaves the room in a hurry, leaving you in disbelief. You collect your thoughts and take deep breaths. You are no longer sad. You are furious. Your body shakes in anger.

You pound against her front door. Not caring how much it hurts your fist. The door swings open revealing a smiling Amber. God, you are so angry.

“Jeez Y/n, you’re gonna wake up the whole neighborhood! I said text me, not show up in front of my house like this. Not that I am complaining,” She jokes. You push her into the house, slamming the door behind you. She widens her eyes and furrows her eyebrows.

“Tell me the truth,” You demand. She crosses her arms and shakes her head. She smiles revealing her teeth.

“What truth?”

“I am so sick of the lies. Ethan told me,” You fum. Her smile drops and she looks emotionless. She swallows a lump in her throat.

“It was you, wasn’t it? The unknown caller. It has always been you,” You accuse. She blinks her eyes which threaten to glisten. Her lack of answers speaks volumes.

“Do you hate me that much?” You whimper. Her facade breaks and she looks absolutely hurt.

“Hate you? I love you!” She cries out. She paces back in forth in front of you, clenching her fist. You stare at her in shock.

“No, no this was not supposed to happen! Did it seem that way to you?! That I hate you? I tried so hard to reveal how much I care and love you,”

“You fucked my boyfriend-”

“Do you know why?” She giggles, getting close to your face. Her pupils were blown wide and dark. You stumble backward, but she continues to follow until you hit your back against the door.

“I wanted to feel you. That lip of his has kissed you all over. He told me how you like to get kissed on the neck and down to your collar. That hand of his would grip your hips and pull you close to his body. His bulge would stick uncomfortably in his jeans. Your hands would unzip his pants and play with his staff. His dick burying deep inside you,” She lets out a soft moan. You clench your teeth.

“Feeling your wet cunt rub against his dick… I can’t help but crave it. I don’t care about Ethan. Never. I cared about how I got to feel what's been in you. It turns me on so much. If I could not have you, I will take the nearest thing that got the privilege to touch you. You drive me insane. I want you,”

Her head dips towards your neck and she licks a long line up your throat. You grunt, squeezing your legs together. She leans back and hovers her lips over yours. There is no longer any personal space. Her body presses against yours.

“The only way I can get rid of him is to expose his lack of self-control to you. I didn’t do anything wrong. He failed to deny me. I knew he was not perfect for you. I am. I was the only person you trust to read the ‘unknown’ caller texts. I was the only person you ran to for help and comfort. You picked me, Y/n. I did this for you. For us,” She purrs. She lingers a little longer over your lips before leaning to your ear.

“Kiss me please,” She blushes, “Please Y/n. Kiss me and I will do anything for you.” You tilt your head up to clear your head from her scent. She’s drowning your sense of morality. She took that opportunity to kiss your neck. You moan. You can feel your walls starting to break down.

“That’s it, baby. Kiss me back,” She moans. Her mouth leaves your neck and returns back to hovering over your lips. She smiles brightly after making eye contact with you. Your eyes look just like hers. Dilated and glistening. You’re turned on and she knows it. Your heart hammers against your rib cage. You push yourself off the door and crash your lips against hers. She chuckles in bliss and grinds your body on top of hers. Her hands glide up the back of you, making you arch into her.

“Fuck Amber,” You gasp. She pulls away from your swollen lips.

“Keep saying my name. I want to be the only name you moan from now on. Stay with me and I will make you the most loved person on earth,” She promises. You nod your head rapidly. Lust clouding your mind.

“Yes,” You blush.

She pulls you by the hand towards the stairs and up to her room. She locks the door as you glance around her room. You’ve been here many times. The picture frame of you and her smiling sits on her desk. You hide your smile behind your hair. You suddenly feel her arms snake around your waist. She nuzzles her nose into your neck. She inhales your scent and sighs.

“Are you ready?” She whispers. You turn around and wrap your arms around her neck. You refuse to admit that her stalking and obsessive behavior are attractive out loud. It will be the new secret you will keep inside.

“Amber… I want you to show me how much you wanted me,” You express.

“I will,” She smiles. She plays with the rim of your shirt. You eye her lovingly, waiting for her. She pulls up your shirt, leaving you in just a bra. The coldness of her room makes you shiver. Your skin raises goosebumps. She analyzes your body down from the waist and up.

“You’re so beautiful,” She confesses. You reach under to pull her shirt off. The chain heart necklace hits her collarbone. She quickly unclasps your bra and your nipple hardens. She brings her hands to cup your chest. She giggles in excitement. You walk backward til your heel hits the bed frame. You flick your fingers for her to follow. She comes close and kisses your collarbone as you start to lie on her bed. She kisses down from your collarbone to your chest. She sticks out her tongue and draws light circles around your right nipple. You suck in a sharp breath. She continues kissing down to your hip. Her fingers hook around your pants to pull them down. You help her by lifting your ass up.

“I’ve been dreaming about this,” She breathes. She slightly nips the skin on the inner of your thighs. Leaving her mark. Her nose brushes against the material of your underwear.

“Fuck me, Amber,” You gasp. She pushes the material to reveal your lovely folds. She slightly slides her fingers along them. A silky clear substance coats her middle finger. The scent of your arousal makes her drunk.

“You’re already so wet,” She giggles.

“So embarrassing,” You spill, covering your face with the back of your hand. She reaches up with her other hand and grabs the hand covering your face. Your fingers interlock.

“Don’t hide your face baby. I want to see you,” She smiles.

#amber freeman #amber freeman x reader #amber freeman x y/n #scream 5 #amber freeman smut #im reposting (this was my old fanfic i deleted)#miss me?#amber freeman fanfiction #mikey madison #lgbt #yandere

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brailsthesmolgurl · 6 months ago

Text

“Do you have games on your phone?”

Preview: A look into the guilty-pleasure games the boys would have on their phones and what they would generally what is in their phone.

XAVIER

“Yeah I play them every once in a while.” The blond boy lifted his phone screen up, directing it to your face and it revealed the home page. Of course he would have your FACE ID registered into his phone. He is a man of privacy most of the time so having his phone to be locked is mostly to restrict strangers from accessing his phone. His phone applications are neatly arranged into folders, he has a lot of them, separated and boxed away according to their usage. Useless Apps, Useful Apps, Socials and Games. These are about the amount of folders he would have on his home page, featuring a silhouette picture of you staring off into the dark of the night, admiring the moon and basking under its silvery light. That picture of you is one of his favourites out of the other pictures he has of you in his photo album. “You can try playing this.” He pretty much has all of the classic games one could think of in his Games folder. Subway surfers, Temple Run, Angry Birds, Minecraft and many other classics.

You were stunned at the amount of games that the folder holds. It took your around five swipes to reach the end of the folder. When asked with why he has so much games that it filled up more than half of his storage, he flashes you an amused grin. “I spend a lot of my time on my phone if I am alone or not sleeping. So I like to keep myself entertained.” He is the type to watch you play the games on his phone, seemingly entertained by how hard you were trying to beat his score when he himself has worldwide rank of #1 across all games. You are definitely in shock and low-key wondered how long does he actually spend on playing all of these games in order to gain such a rank. When you lost within the first few rounds, you realised you flashing him a frown was a mistake when he said. “It’s hard to gain my score right? My advice is that you can stop trying to beat me and just enjoy the game.”

RAFAYEL

“Oh, finally you want to see if I have any secret contacts of girls stashed away in my phone? It’s gonna be disappointing for you my love.” The artist teases, lips curled into a smirk when he hands you his phone and you familiarly typed in the passcode. The phone clicked and it brought you to the home page, featuring a picture of you and him taken during one of his most recent exhibitions. The both of you stood next to one another, his arms around your waist and posed in front of the huge canvas of abstract art. His phone applications however, are not organised, just like his house most of the time when things gets too busy on his end. As an artist, he always calls it ‘beauty apparent within a mess’. He only owns one game on his phone and it is an RPG dating game. He is so down bad at missing you some times that he had to result to games to suffice his own needs of needing to be around you. The RPG dating game is the typical choice making game that affects the results of the game and he puts in an insane amount of money to make his character look as similar to himself and the crush in the game to be as ornamented as you.

Teasing him about his game choice drives him into a blushing frenzy. Denial at first but eventually succumbing to his own guilty pleasure when you started asking about the character models he had spent an insane amount of time to sculpt in game. “I just wanted to play this game whenever I do not get to spend time with you either it’d be in a different time zone or you’re just busy. A man has his own needs and I see this being a healthy way of missing you without bothering you on a daily basis.” His bashfulness reply made you smiled, for he is a genuine man afterall and he expresses his love to you in the weirdest yet most caring method. “If you see any clothes in the store, you can just buy it so I can get the in-game you to wear it. If they said that I do not have enough gems for the transaction just reload it for me yeah?”

ZAYNE

“Here. You can try and play it if you’d like.” He unlocked his phone with his fingerprint and handed it over to you. He has your fingerprint and Face ID registered into his phone’s security system but since you asked out of the blue, he might as well just do you the favour to unlock the phone for you, as he is a proclaimed gentleman. You asking for what games he has on his phone makes the all-time serious man cracked a thin smile on his lips, fancy seeing you embracing your childlike image. His wallpaper is a picture of you and only you, sat in the middle of a flower field with a smile as bright as the sun that hung above in the clear skies. You remembered this image, it was one of those days where a planned trip was interrupted and so the both of you ended up with spontaneous plans. This specific flower field being one of the result of the spontaneity. His home page is ridiculously minimal, with each page dedicated to specific apps. He has only two games on his phone; Tetris and Sudoku.

You were even surprised he has any games on his phone. When asked for the reason, the doctor who was focused on his paperwork paused for a moment and looked at you with bewildered forest-like orbs. “Such games are researched to be stimulating to one’s brain, it aids in relieving boredom and also exercise it. Statistics has shown that it helps in improving one’s logic sense, problem solving skills and pattern spotting skills. You should try it as you always seemingly can’t use your brain whenever you’re caught up in a situation that requires you to use one. It might teach you that brute force may not be the answer to all.” His strict tone made your gaze narrowed at him, taking his words towards the side of offence. But he does make a point as you are the one that is always going into his office with physical injuries. Furthermore, him spitting facts for educative purposes effectively diminishes your will to rebut him. “I have already taken the liberty to download the games I had mentioned into your phone, perhaps you can play them whenever you are free.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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harryssyndrome · 11 days ago

Text

Manic | h.s

summery: he may be a popstar but he’s also a manic the world doesn’t know.

word count: 2.6k || Masterlist

Posted on: November 18th, 2024

This is going to be a short series if you guys like it! Here’s the prologue and chapter 1.

The darkened room was quiet, save for the soft hum of a playlist that had been playing for hours. It was a familiar sound, one that Harry Styles had heard countless times before. The music, meant to soothe and distract, did neither. It never did anymore.

Fame had always come easily to Harry. It had been handed to him on a silver platter after years of hard work, but after so long, he was tired. Not physically, not yet, but mentally. The adoration, the constant need to be the center of attention, it had become exhausting. He didn’t need the spotlight anymore. It was empty. Unfulfilling. All he really craved was something real. Something that felt tangible. But everything felt like a performance, every encounter, every interaction, a scripted scene in a play that had gone on too long.

He should’ve been happy. His name was on the lips of millions, his face splashed across billboards, and his albums charted at number one. And yet, Harry felt hollow inside.

His gaze wandered aimlessly over his phone screen. Another night of scrolling through social media, his thumb moving slowly, mechanically, as he half-heartedly browsed the posts. Then it caught his eye.

A video.

Not just any video—this one was different. A fan edit, yes, but it wasn’t the usual over-enthusiastic nonsense. This one felt… raw. Real. The video was of him, sure, but the energy was unique. The girl in the video was singing along, dancing in her room, her energy infectious. Her eyes sparkled with an unrestrained joy, her movements filled with an innocence he hadn’t seen in a long time.

She wasn’t pretending. She wasn’t trying to be cool or act like she wasn’t completely immersed in the moment.

No, this girl—YN—was different.

The video switched to another post: a selfie of her holding a cardboard cutout of him, beaming at the camera with a grin that was all enthusiasm and giddiness. The caption read: “Just me and my favorite person in the world ❤️ #harrystylesforever.”

Harry watched, transfixed, as if he couldn’t look away. There was something magnetic about her. Something about the way she adored him, but not in the way others did. There was no ulterior motive in her eyes, no agenda beyond the sheer love of his music.

For the first time in a long time, Harry felt… noticed. But not for his fame, or his status. No, this girl—YN—saw him for what he truly was. And in a way, that felt like a breath of fresh air. She wasn’t enamored with the star. She was enamored with the man.

Harry scrolled further through her feed. She had an entire shrine dedicated to him. Posters, merchandise, photos of places he had filmed music videos, concerts she’d attended. The more he scrolled, the more he realized that Kate’s world was revolving around him in a way he couldn’t quite comprehend.

It wasn’t just admiration. It was obsession. Pure and unfiltered.

And he couldn’t stop watching.

Her life was laid out in front of him, piece by piece. She posted about everything. Her favorite coffee shop. The books she read. Her friends. Her artistic creations. His song covers. Every little moment of her life was shared with a world that admired her for the very same reason she adored him.

And Harry couldn’t get enough of it.

There was a pull in his chest as he clicked on her live video, her face lighting up the screen as she spoke, her joy so pure and unguarded it felt like a drug. She laughed, her voice a melodic sound that made his heart beat faster.

“I can’t believe it,” she said, practically giddy. “Harry Styles liked my post! Do you know what that means to me? It’s like… it’s like he knows I exist.” Her voice wavered with emotion. “Like, I don’t even know how to explain it, but it’s like all of my dreams are finally coming true.”

Harry’s lips curled into a slow smile. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—this sense of control. This… pull. There was something about YN, something about the way she expressed her adoration for him, that was different from all the others. She wasn’t just a fan. She was everything he had been looking for.

And the best part? She had no idea he was watching.

He rewound the livestream, watching her over and over again, each time growing more captivated. And then, he noticed something.

In the background, through her window, the faint outline of streetlights and buildings could be seen.

It was just a glimpse. But it was enough.

The thought was sudden, almost like a seed planted in his mind. She was close. So close. It wouldn’t be hard to find her.

And that thought… that thought lingered.

YN woke up the next morning to an onslaught of notifications. Her phone buzzed incessantly, each new one making her stomach flip with excitement. She rubbed her eyes, still groggy from sleep, and grabbed her phone.

A notification from Instagram.

@harrystyles liked your post.

She blinked, staring at the words. Her heart raced. Was she dreaming? She clicked on the notification, her pulse quickening when the page loaded.

It was real.

Harry Styles, the Harry Styles, had liked her post.

Her hands trembled as she swiped through her feed. Was this really happening? The man she had adored for years—the man she had spent countless hours watching, listening to, obsessing over—had noticed her. And not just in passing. He had liked her post.

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible as she scrolled through the comments.

Her followers were going wild.

“Oh my God, YN, he liked your post!”

“What? Harry Styles actually noticed you?!”

“You’re a legend, girl! This is everything!”

YN’s breath came in shallow gasps. This was bigger than anything that had happened to her before. She had posted countless videos, countless photos, all for this moment. And now, it had happened.

Her heart was still racing when she opened Instagram live. Her fingers hovered over the button. What should she say? How could she even begin to express how overwhelmed she felt?

She hit record.

“Guys,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement. “I don’t even know what to say right now. Harry Styles liked my post. Harry Styles.” She laughed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. “This is insane. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

She paused, looking directly into the camera. “Do you guys have any idea what this means to me? Like, this is—this is everything. This is all I’ve wanted for so long. I can’t even—”

Her words trailed off as she swiped through the screen, her eyes wide. She had just noticed the comment. A single heart emoji.

From Harry.

“I—” YN’s voice faltered. “Oh my God. He commented. Harry Styles just commented on my livestream!.”

She stared at her screen in disbelief. There was no way this was real. But it was. And it felt like the world was shifting under her feet.

Harry Styles had noticed her.

The next few days passed in a blur. YN couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that Harry Styles had seen her. He had liked her posts, commented on her videos. He had made her feel seen. Not like a fan, but like someone special.

And Harry—Harry couldn’t get her out of his head.

Every notification, every new video she posted, he consumed it with an intensity that bordered on obsession. He started following her more closely, paying attention to the smallest details in her posts. Her likes. Her comments. Where she went. What she did. Everything she shared, Harry took in like a starving man at a feast.

It didn’t take long before he started devising a plan. He could feel the pull, the magnetic attraction that drew him to her. He could feel her energy from miles away, even through a screen.

But that wasn’t enough. He needed more.

He watched her live videos, listened to the way her voice wavered with excitement when she spoke of him. He watched her laugh, heard the way her voice carried when she spoke of her love for him. And in that moment, Harry knew he had to make her feel something deeper.

Something darker.

He began to calculate. Every post she made, every comment, every moment of her life was a clue. Her routines. The coffee shops she frequented. Her favorite spots in the city.

She wasn’t just a fan.

She was a piece of a puzzle.

And Harry was going to put it together.

YN felt like she was floating in a dream, a haze of disbelief. Every time she checked her phone, she saw the same thing. Harry Styles. His name was there in her notifications, like a light guiding her through the madness of her obsession. He had liked her posts. Commented on her videos. Even sent her a heart emoji—his emoji.

She was on cloud nine, and she couldn’t help but smile whenever she thought about it. Her followers were ecstatic. Everyone knew. Everyone was talking about her. YN, the girl Harry Styles noticed.

It wasn’t just the likes and comments. It was the way he watched her. She could feel it, like a weight on her chest. When she posted something new, she checked her notifications more than she should. And there it was—always there. Harry’s eyes on her.

Her room, the one she’d carefully decorated with Harry memorabilia, felt like a shrine, but not just to him. It felt like it was for him, a window into her life. A way for him to see her.

Harry had stopped just liking her posts. He had begun watching her live streams, something YN had been dreaming of but never truly expected. His presence was palpable. She could almost feel his gaze through the screen, like he was right there with her. The thought sent shivers down her spine.

But what did it mean? Was this just a phase? Was Harry really paying attention, or was it just a fleeting moment for him? She wondered if she would wake up one day and realize it was all a dream. No. No, this was real. He had to care.

In the dark of his bedroom, Harry sat back in his chair, phone in hand. His eyes flicked over the screen, watching YN’s every move. Her excitement, her vulnerability, her eagerness to please him. Every post, every comment, was a step deeper into the labyrinth he was creating.

He had started by watching her like any other fan. But something about her had drawn him in. The way she spoke. The way she laughed. The way she seemed real. Not a pretend version of a fan, not just someone fawning over his fame, but someone who truly adored him. No one had adored him like that in a long time.

She was his escape, his secret obsession. Her life was a mosaic of small moments that, when pieced together, painted a clear picture. He could see it all now—the places she went, the routines she followed. She was so predictable, so easily found. And that’s when the dark thoughts started creeping in.

He wasn’t just content with being a distant figure in her life. He needed to be closer. He needed to own her adoration, to control it.

The first step was simple.

Harry sent her a message.

A direct message.

He’d done it casually, almost nonchalantly. He commented on her latest post, then slid into her DMs under the guise of admiration, complimenting her style, her energy. It was a gentle nudge. But the more he messaged, the more it became clear. She wanted him. She needed him. Her responses were quick, eager, every message dripping with excitement. It fed him, fueled the fire inside of him.

They exchanged pleasantries at first. She gushed over how much his music meant to her, how he had been a source of inspiration. Harry watched it all, reading between the lines. She was enamored, yes, but there was something more. She was a fan, but she wanted more. She needed to be noticed.

And he could give that to her. But first, he had to make her feel something else. Something darker.

One night, when the world outside was still and quiet, Harry did something that would push his obsession further into a twisted reality.

He didn’t tell YN. He didn’t send a message. There was no warning.

He simply showed up.

YN’s apartment building wasn’t far from where he was staying. It took him only a few hours to figure out where she lived. It wasn’t hard. The clues were always in plain sight.

When he arrived, he parked his car a few blocks away and walked quietly to her building, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t scared. But there was something thrilling about being so close to her.

Standing outside her window, he could see her inside, oblivious to the fact that he was watching. She was sitting at her desk, the soft glow of her computer screen illuminating her face as she scrolled through her phone.

Harry stayed hidden, just out of sight. His breath quickened as he watched her. She’s mine, he thought. She just doesn’t know it yet.

He waited until the apartment was dark, until the only light that remained was the dim glow of her bedside lamp. She was ready to sleep.

When she finally stood and moved toward her bed, Harry crept up to her window. He didn’t knock. He didn’t need to.

His fingers wrapped around the ledge of the window, and with a single, practiced motion, he slid it open.

The soft creak of the window didn’t alert her. YN was too lost in her thoughts to notice anything. She was just getting ready for bed, unaware that the man she idolized, the man she felt was just a part of her dreams, was standing in the darkness outside her window, staring at her.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. The view of her room, her soft silhouette against the dim light, her hair falling over her shoulders, her delicate features bathed in the soft glow—it was like a dream. But it was real. He was here. Watching.

He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small vial, the smell of her perfume still lingering on it. He pressed it to his nose, inhaling deeply. Her scent filled his lungs, and for a moment, he felt closer to her than he ever had.

He watched her move to her bed, getting under the covers. His body tensed, heart racing as he took a few steps forward.

The feeling was intoxicating. This was no longer about admiration. This was about ownership. Control. Harry had to make her see him. He had to make her crave him the way he craved her.

He stayed for hours, watching, as YN shifted in her sleep, her body curled under the blankets. He wanted to touch her—just one touch—but he couldn’t. Not yet.

He caressed the glass, the smooth surface cold under his fingertips.

“I’ll be back, and then we’ll be together..” he whispered softly, barely audible.

And then he left.

As Harry retreated into the shadows of the night, his mind raced. He had tasted it now. The power. The control. He had planted a seed, and it would grow.

The game had just begun.

#harry styles #harry edward styles #one direction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles story #harry styles fiction #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harryssyndrome #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction

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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago

Note

Gojo is the type of guy to always bring you flowers. Always.

devotee — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: anon you so right. let’s do this

whenever satoru goes on a mission, he comes back with a ton of souvenirs and a bouquet of the prettiest flowers to bloom on this earth.

it is so cute and it always makes your day even if he, one time, unknowingly gifted you a flower that symbolized death with a huge grin.

you had asked him about why he gifted you that flower in particular and he said it's because it was your favorite color. so you could do nothing except shake your head helplessly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

that's why it doesn't surprise you when he bursts into the first years' classroom with yet another big bouquet and even a bigger smile, "hi babe!"

you get up from your chair, "hey 'toru," you peck his lips, gently taking the bouquet from his hands, "what are these for?"

"nothing," he hums, "just wanted to appreciate you."

"again?" yuuji questions.

meanwhile, nobara blows her nose, screaming at the top of her lungs, "god, when will it be my turn?!" she quickly recovers with a smirk, throwing the tissue away, "just kidding! I don't need no man."

so yeah. satoru never fails to get you flowers, and in some of the most creative ways because satoru is anything but traditional.

if you don’t find a bouquet on your doorstep then you find a trail of flower petals that leads to your shared bedroom. it’s a pretty cute thing, the idea of your husband taking the time to put petals in your house to make your day just a bit easier is heart-warming.

but satoru won’t do something half-way and that’s why the petals on ground beside your bed spell your name, a heart, and a very bold ‘i love you’. it’s cute and it makes you smile, and it almost makes you forget the tiresome day you had.

but then you feel strong arms wrap around your shoulders and you’re pulled to a chest you’re very familiar with.

your husband is grinning as he peppers your face with kisses and you don’t have the time to think about your day.

another thing satoru loves to do with the flower petals is provide you with the most romantic and calming bath ever.

you remember that one time the higher-ups assigned you a multitude of missions on the same day and it exhausted you. you came back home, tired and almost a corpse.

upon seeing your beaten up figure, satoru took matters into his own hands.

in no time, he was able to decorate the bathtub with flower petals and candles. he got you all the snacks you like and offered himself as a—self-proclaimed—worldwide and top-tier masseur.

but before the pampering, he made sure to treat your wounds as gently as he could.

he threw a few jokes here and there, sang your praises about how strong and brave you are, and his lips left no part of your skin untouched, firm yet soft kisses that he hopes will make the pain even a tiny bit more bearable.

then you got into the bath and your body immediately relaxed. add to that, the surprisingly good massage you’re getting from your darling husband. and when you have had your fill, he helps you wash up, hands covering your eyes so the soap doesn’t get in.

when you stand up, and he gets the towel to cover you, he pauses.

you’re reminded of how intimidating satoru’s eyes are in the moment. without his blindfold, you get the full effect and truly feel his gaze. however, what’s difference between the look he gives his enemies and the look he gives you is far too vast.

to the enemy, satoru’s eyes are the ocean that will drown them to doom. to you, it’s the sky that doesn’t fail to shine upon seeing you.

it almost flusters you: the unadulterated love and pure devotion in his gaze. he takes you all in, admiring every inch of your body then grins, “the body of a goddess.”

and even in his absence, satoru doesn’t let you forget that you’re loved.

one time, when he was away for a couple of days for a mission, you were going on with your daily routine, all fine and dandy.

then you wanted to get that photo album satoru made for your anniversary to pass time until he comes back. satoru personally handpicked and glued every single photo.

he also decorated it with silly stickers and even sillier drawings, along with annotations that make you giggle when you can vividly imagine him saying them.

your feet almost immediately take you there, and you slide the drawer open.

but the photo album is surrounded by flower petals that—mind you—were not there before, and a sticky note is on it. your husband’s handwriting decorates the note and it reads ‘don’t miss me too much now. I will be back soon ;)’

you take the note in your hands and roll your eyes. nevertheless, you hold it close to your heart and wish for his safe return because, in the end, even the strongest will have a weakness.

and satoru doesn’t shy away from showing his love for you to everyone. so he doesn’t mind bursting into the meeting room and sitting beside you, presenting yet another bouquet of flowers, “for you, gorgeous.”

some are rolling their eyes, others are fondly chuckling, but satoru doesn’t care and frankly, neither can you.

who would reject the pampering from someone they love so dearly? a confession on a starry night once fell from his lips, “my heart is yours, you know. do with it what you want.”

it’s the love and care that is effortlessly shown in his actions and you always let him know that you appreciate it every single time.

you cup his face and press a big smooch on his cheek and a grin is automatically plastered on his pretty face.

because as beautiful as an action can be, it needs to be acknowledged and appreciated to reflect the same beauty to the giver.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #gojo imagine #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk gojo x y/n #jjk gojo x you #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #jjk gojo x reader

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noceurous · 3 months ago

Text

lights, camera, action

your boyfriend gets his hands on a handycam, later on you

warnings: mentions of divorce, mentions infidelity, Dave’s family is also mentioned, some self-doubt and angst, looots of feelings (sorry idk what took over me ehehe), swearing, smut: fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), p-in-v sex, slapping, daddy kink, usage of various nicknames (baby, darling, etc) minors dni (18+) reader is able bodied + has some length of hair + afab.

a/n: my birthday is officially on 10th of september, but this fic turned out to be longer than i expected, so i said post it with a fic you feel good.

a/n2: this fic takes place in the same universe with [take the heat away, make the girl stay] but they can be read separately.

Carol was a really nice woman after the divorce.

It was nice of her to call you a homewrecker, among many other names.

It was nice of her to fill Molly and Alice’s heads with wrong ideas about you.

It was nice of her to call Dave in the middle of your date and tell him that he’ll come back crawling back to her after he’s done with you. just like the girls before and made sure you heard it.

Lastly, it was nice for Carol to send all of his belongings to your tiny apartment. You didn’t even know how she got your address. Just after a simple ring of the doorbell, you were standing between piles of light brown boxes.

“Shit, did she really do that too?” Dave asked over the phone as you stood inside the labyrinth made of boxes.

“Yep, what’s left of your relationship is now inside my living room.” You said as you eyed over the boxes. Trying to find out if your relationship was enough to fill one box.

“They’re mostly clothes, family photos and Father’s Day gifts. There is nothing left of the relationship.” You were familiar with the last sentence. Dave used that to reassure you during the beginning of your relationship.

He also used that sentence to girls, and Carol. When any one of them accused you of breaking them up.

“Yeah, probably. I’m gonna take a shower. When will you be back?”

“Fifteen minutes tops. Do you want anything?”

“No, just you.” His chest hurt when he heard how your voice cracked before you ended the phone call.

He hated Carol when she did that. Blaming you for everything went wrong in the marriage. Taking her anger out on you, when in truth you came into him long after he decided on a divorce.

—

“Darling? I’m home.” He didn’t hear your reply, but the water sound came from the bathroom.

He took off his long coat, his keys still in his hand when he walked towards the living room. Greeted with a pile of boxes. He couldn’t imagine how you felt when a box after a box came into your place. He would call Carol again, but he knew pretty well whatever he said to stop her, just would fuel Carol’s anger.

He raised his key, slashing and opening one right through the tape with it.

Fake plastic trophy of being the Best Dad Ever, broken hand painted coffee mugs, a photograph in a frame from Alice’s first soccer game.

He went through some of the boxes more. As he assumed they were mostly clothes and stuff related to girls. Mainly photo albums which were half empty since Carol only sent him photos he was included. Nothing more.

When he was going over his last box, something silver at the corner of the box caught his eye. When he took it out, he was greeted with an old handycam.

“No way.” He smiled as he took it out. Shocked when he found out it was still charged.

He heard your footsteps when you came towards him, wrapped a towel around your body and another one around your head.

“What is that?” You walked towards him, the scent of your shower gel filling his nostrils.

Orchids.

“That’s my old handy-cam. Got stuck between stuff, still works.”

He explained as he checked if there were any pre saved videos. He remembered using it for Alice’s school plays and Molly’s soccer practice. Half remembering that he already saved them to Carol’s computer.

He pressed on the record button, when he saw the red blinking light he raised the camera to you.

“What are you doing!” You chuckled, covering your face.

“Recording my lovely girlfriend.”

“I’m in a towel.” He shrugged, still keeping the camera on you.

“That’s better.” He said as he zoomed on your legs, slowly lifting the camera to your body. “Don’t be shy. Camera loves you.”

“Is it the camera? Or is it my horny boyfriend?”

“Both. Give me something baby, come on.” You rolled your eyes, blew a kiss and winked at the camera.

“That’s better.” He said as he placed his hand on your towel, raising an eyebrow.

Before you could understand his next move, he tugged the towel down, watching it pool around your ankles.

“Dave!” You protested, hands covering your breasts.

“Don’t be shy honey. This is just for me. Show it to me.” You huffed, placing your hands at your waist. Sticking out your chest more as he pointed the camera at your breasts, recording every inch for you.

He licked his lips at your sight. “I’m a lucky bastard aren’t I?”

“Try the luckiest.”

He chuckled, motioning you to the couch. “Take a seat.” You rolled your eyes, swinging your ass as you walked towards the couch. You knew he was zooming in there.

He whistled, “That’s my girl” as he followed you. Sitting further from you on the coffee table. “Open your legs for me, come on.” The sight of your glistening pussy was on camera, Dave’s hand was slightly shook, blurring the view for a second. He tried to play it like he was affected less from the sight of you than he actually was.

“Hmm, you’re wet baby.” You smirked at the camera, slowly nodding. “Who made you this wet?”

“You did.” You pressed your fingers on your lips, spreading them to show him your swollen clit covered in your silk. “See? It’s all for you.”

He felt his pants tighten, he didn’t even find the time to take off his tie since he got back. Now you were standing all naked for him, showing off your perfect body. And he had too much clothes on to feel you on his skin.

“Be a good girl, play with yourself for me. But don’t cum.” He said as he slowly placed the camera on the coffee table. Angling it to the perfect angle.

Your eyes were looking into his eyes, as he clicked his tongue pointing at the camera. “Eyes on the camera baby.” You swallowed down your whimper. Thumb pressed onto your clit, feeling your walls clench around nothing.

You pushed a finger inside you, moaning at your wetness. You closed your eyes, for a second, your other hand was on the cushion, grasping it tightly.

You started moving your finger, in and out, playing with your clit then back in. “Open your eyes.” You opened them, seeing Dave in front of you, behind the camera.

He was naked, his cock in his hand, slowly pumping himself. You could tell he was rock hard, it was painful for him not to touch you. “See what you’re doing to me?” You gulped, nodding quickly.

“Add another finger.” You did as he said, your toes curled, walls clenching around your fingers. You didn’t have to look down to know your juices were dripping down on your couch, making a mess.

You continued to finger yourself slowly, eyes locked on the red light on the camera. You could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, trying to hold it as long as possible.

Your whimpers filled his ears, his eyes locked at the way your naked chest came up and down. Each second it became harder for him to not feel you on his skin. You were a sight for his sore eyes, all he carved for his life.

“Show me.” He said as he knelt between your legs. You took your fingers out of your pussy, the wet sound of it crying made both of you moan.

Your fingers were glistening with your juices, you took them inside your mouth, sucking off your juices.

His warm breath fanning your weeping pussy. He quickly hooked your legs on his shoulders. Diving into your pussy, drinking your juices right from your core.

Your body trembled as his warm tongue touched you. Drawing long strokes with the tip of his tongue. “Oh Fuck!” You said as your hand went back to cushion. Supporting yourself as Dave continued to lick over your folds aggressively.

He raised his face, his lips and chin covered with your juices. The corner of his lips raised into a smirk. “You taste so good.” He said before he dove back in. Sucking down your clit.

You smirked at the camera, hand going to your breast. “Fuck! Dave! You are so good!” You pinched down your swollen nipple. Pulling him closer to your core by pressing your ankles on his back.

He pushed a finger inside you, eyes pointed up to your blissed face. You were looking right at the camera just like he told you. His pretty girl always followed his orders without making him give them twice.

“Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!” You were chanting out as he was brutally fucking you with his finger. His lips on your thigh, kissing along the soft flesh, pressing his teeth on your inner thigh.

He pushed another finger inside. “Are you going to cum?” You looked down at him, eagerly nodding.

“May I? Please daddy, I’ve been so close.” He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. Earning a loud moan from you. “Please.”

Who was he to deny you from pleasure?

“Cum for me.” He said as he sucked your clit once more, fingers still moving inside you. Your body shook when he brushed along your sweet spot. Pads of his fingers pressing on it just right. “Fu—“ Your body jolted backwards, your mind went blank as the white pleasure surrounded your body.

You were panting heavily, as he got up between your legs slowly, his hand wrapped around his cock. Fingers shining with your juices. Your mouth watered with the sight. You wanted him. You wanted more.

With the dark look in his eyes, you knew he wanted the same. “Get on the floor. On your hands and knees.”

You got in the position like he asked, shaking your ass a little when you got on your knees. He slapped you harshly causing you to fall on your hands. Your lips parted, showing him one of his favorite views; your ass in the air, your hole greedily waiting for him.

He pressed his tip on your entrance, “Look at the camera, don’t close your eyes, or I’ll stop.” You knew this was more of a statement than a threat. Before you could say something he gradually pushed himself inside of you, letting go of his breath when he reached your limit. His cock twitched inside you when your walls welcomed him inside.

“Oh.” You moaned at feeling full, still sore from his fingers. Your pussy greedily accepting him, already addict to the sweet pain.

He could see your glossy, lustful gaze thanks to the camera. Cursing himself for not thinking this sooner. Not thinking of saving these moments of you. Not starting saving anything he could save from you.

He placed his hands on your waist. Getting his momentum as his hips started slapping against your ass, not wasting any time with being gentle. Today was not one of his gentle, love making days. He needed you. He needed to take what was his.

He was not having a great time at work. Now he also had to handle Carol and stop her from attacking you.

He had to protect you and he had no objection to that. If it was allowed, he would tear up the limbs of anyone who dared to hurt you. It does not have to be physical abusive, just a simple word was enough to get him violent. There was nothing in this world that would stop him to protect you.

You were his purpose in life, his guiding light.

“Please.”

Your crying voice turned him back to reality, his eyes snapped back to the camera from your shaking ass. Your eyes teared from pleasure, thin layer of sweat covering your cheeks.

“Yes?”

“Please cum inside me. I missed feeling your cum inside. I’ve been empty for days.”

He had some stuff to take care of in Denmark. Unfortunately his little business trip took longer than he expected. So all you were able to do were some quick calls and exchanging text messages. Whispers of “I miss you” were exchanged as you bit your tongue not to say “I love you” too soon.

“Baby…” He said, getting faster than before, chasing his pleasure. You moaned, when he pushed in a bit too hard. Your hand stopped you from falling forward. Forehead almost hit the coffee table.

He cursed his ignorance, wrapping his arm around your neck, leaning over figure. He pressed his lips on your sweet spot behind your ear, feeling your body tremble between his arms. He nudged your temple with the tip of his nose, taking in your smell.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, eyes locked with yours on the screen.

“You look so good, baby. I feel how you tighten around me, you want to cum again don’t you?”

“Yes, please.”

“You want me to make you?”

“Ye—yes...” His hand went to your clit from your waist, flicking it rapidly. “F—fuck! D—dave!”

“Go on, come all over my cock baby! Fuck you’re milking me so good.” He slapped your ass, grabbing a handful of the soft flesh before whispering to the shell of your ear. “You want me to cum inside don’t you? Fill you right to the brim?”

He groaned at how your walls tighten around him with your question. “Yes! Fuck yes! Please fill me up. I’ll do anything, please.” He sucked a bruise your neck, his hot breath from his nose fanning on your throat.

“If you really want to…” He said as he spurted out his cum inside you, pressing down on your swollen clit. Holding your body with his arm still wrapped around your neck as it trembled with your orgasm.

“Dave!” Your voice shook as you tried to keep yourself up. Feeling his hot cum spill inside you. He turned your head to the side, smashing his lips to yours. You moaned into the kiss, opening your mouth for his tongue to enter. Your salty taste on his tongue as he sucked yours.

Taking everything you offered to him.

He slowly took himself out, some of his cum spilled out from your hole. He tsked, gathering them with his fingers and pushing them back in. You hissed with the contact, looking over your shoulder to him.

“I’ll send someone tomorrow, to take care of the boxes. I don’t want you to worry about them.” You nodded, as he lied down next to you. Pulling your naked body to lie on his naked chest. You buried your head on his chest, kissing right above where his heart his.

You took the camera from the table, stopping the recording. You smiled at the video, thinking how better you looked than you guessed.

“Like a true temptress.” Dave said, as he buried his nose in your hair, his fingers drawing circles on your upper arm.

“Can I keep a copy as well?”

“Anything you want darling.” He said as he kissed you, slowly moving you to his lap between kisses. “Anything for you.”

—

The next morning Dave’s men came to collect the boxes. And Carol had an anonymous email in her inbox with no subject.

It was a small photo where Dave was eating you out. When she scrolled down, she saw your text added underneath.

Mine, back off.

Needless to say, the email disappeared a few minutes later it was read, without leaving any trace.

—

please provide comments/reblogs if you liked this fic. they always mean a lot 💙

#dave york #dave york smut #dave york oneshot #dave york fluff #dave york angst #dave york x you #dave york x reader #pedro pascal #dave york fanfiction #dave york x y/n

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rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

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Kinktober 2024: Day 15

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know it's not technically the 15th yet. But I just finished writing this one and I'm really excited for you guys to read it. I also know I have a lot going on tomorrow so not sure when I'll have time to post it, so posting it a little early!

PROMPT: "Feel what you're doing to me? That's all because of you!"

KINK: Lingerie

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT (P in V)

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

TAG LIST: @missmarveledsblog I @shanimallina87 I @fore45fore

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The late morning sun poured through the windows, casting a warm glow across the living room you and Bradley shared. You sat cross-legged on the floor, fingers carefully smoothing out the last corner of the wrapping paper around his coming home present—a gift you’d been planning for months.

The photo album sat snugly under the glossy paper, bound by a neat ribbon you tied with extra care. Inside were the boudoir photos you had taken just weeks after he’d left for deployment. It was something special, something intimate, to remind him how much you’d missed him. Each photo was a memory in itself—a way for you to stay close even when he was oceans away.

You pressed down the final piece of tape, running your hand over the gift with a satisfied sigh. The small album, resting in its elegant wrapping on the kitchen table, felt like a secret shared between just the two of you, a piece of you waiting for him to come home.

The clock ticked closer to the afternoon, and excitement bubbled in your chest. It had been six months, half a year since you'd last seen Bradley in person, and today was the day he was coming back. You grabbed your keys, heart racing in anticipation, ready to meet him at the base. You gave the present one last glance before heading out, the thought of his reaction swirling in your mind as you made your way out the door to bring him home.

* * * *

The air buzzed with excitement as you stood among the crowd at the base, your heart pounding in your chest. You watched as one by one, men and women began walking off the plane, their faces weary but lit with the relief of being home. Your eyes scanned each face, searching desperately for the one you’d been waiting for. The anticipation twisted inside you—until finally, there he was.

Bradley stepped off the plane, looking up just in time for your eyes to meet. That familiar smile spread across his face, and in that instant, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you. He dropped his duffel bag to the ground and took a few determined steps toward you. Without thinking, you broke into a run, closing the distance between you in seconds.

You launched yourself into his arms, wrapping yours tightly around his neck as he held you close, his arms enveloping you in that perfect, safe embrace. The world seemed to melt away as you both stood there, holding onto each other for what felt like minutes, neither of you wanting to let go. His warmth, his familiar scent—it was everything you’d missed.

Bradley pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a soft smile playing on his lips before he leaned in and pressed them to yours. The kiss was slow, lingering, and filled with all the love and longing that had built up over the last six months.

After several kisses and a few more tight hugs, he whispered, "I’m ready to go home."

But before you could move, he draped an arm protectively over your shoulders, keeping you close as the two of you made your way to his Bronco—the vehicle you had driven there, waiting to take him back to where he belonged.

* * * *

You and Bradley walked through the front door, the familiar comfort of home welcoming both of you as you closed it behind you. Bradley paused, noticing the carefully wrapped present sitting on the kitchen table. He glanced at you with raised eyebrows, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“What’s this?” he asked, his voice laced with interest as he gestured toward the gift.

You smiled, leaning against the counter. "It’s a little coming-home present for you."

His curiosity deepened, and he gave you a playful look. "Can I open it now?"

You nodded, watching him as he moved over to the table, his large hands quickly but carefully tearing away the wrapping paper. When the paper fell away, he stood holding a sleek photo album, his eyes flicking back to you with even more curiosity.

"A photo album?" he asked, his lips tugging into a smirk.

"Just open it," you teased, crossing your arms and biting your lip in anticipation.

Bradley’s gaze shifted back to the album as he slowly opened it, revealing the first photo—a soft, almost innocent image of you wrapped in one of his Hawaiian shirts, buttoned up but still leaving a hint of bare skin peeking out. You watched as his expression softened, his fingers gently turning the page. As he flipped through each photo, his smirk grew.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip when he reached the next series of images—the ones where you had started to unbutton the shirt. You felt a warm flush rise in your cheeks as his eyes darkened with appreciation. By the time he reached the photos where the shirt was completely gone, revealing the pale blue lace teddy you had worn just for him, his breath caught.

The intersecting straps, the delicate lace, and the strategically placed cutouts accentuated your figure in all the right ways. Bradley took his time, flipping through those photos a little more slowly, savoring each one, his gaze lingering on the sight of you in his favorite color.

When he reached the final set of photos, where the teddy had come off and you were laid out on the bed with nothing but a sheet draped across your bare skin, his eyes widened slightly. He glanced up at you, his expression a mix of admiration and something more heated. You felt his eyes tracing every inch of you as if he could still see the images in his mind.

"Damn," Bradley breathed out, his voice low and husky as he looked back at the album, and then back at you. "You did all this…for me?"

You smiled softly, feeling your heart race at the way he was looking at you now. "Every bit of it."

Bradley set the album down and turned toward you, his strong hands finding your waist as he pulled you against him. His gaze was filled with adoration as he whispered, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

His lips captured yours in a heated kiss, the intensity building quickly as his tongue slipped past your lips, deepening the connection. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you impossibly closer.

But before the moment could escalate further, you stepped back. Bradley looked at you, confused, his brow furrowed slightly.

That’s when you tugged at the hem of your shirt, untucking it from your denim shorts. His confusion quickly faded, replaced by realization—and a growing anticipation. His eyes darkened with desire when he noticed the shirt you were wearing wasn’t yours. It was one of his Hawaiian shirts, the same one you had worn during the photoshoot. You began to slowly unbutton it, just like you had in the pictures, teasing him with every undone button.

Bradley’s gaze never left you, his breathing growing heavier as you undid the last button, revealing the lingerie beneath—pale blue, lace, with the same intersecting straps and cutouts from the photos. He whispered something, maybe a quiet curse or a breathless declaration of how much he loved you, his voice thick with need. Whatever it was, you couldn’t quite make it out.

You gave him a playful, teasing look before turning and heading toward the bedroom.

You’d barely made it into the room before Bradley was on you, his hands quickly unbuttoning and sliding your shorts off, leaving you in just the delicate lace.

He pulled you back against him, your back to his chest, one hand trailing down from your chest to your stomach while the other gripped your hip, pressing you into him. You could feel the hardness there, his need evident against you.

A soft moan escaped your lips as Bradley leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Feel what you’re doing to me? That’s all because of you.” His voice was low, filled with raw desire, and the sound sent shivers down your spine.

Bradley’s words lingered in the air, sending warmth through your body as his hand moved from your stomach to your thigh, fingers brushing lightly along the edge of the lace. He gently traced the outline of your lingerie, teasing the sensitive skin beneath it. His breath was hot against your neck, and your body instinctively arched into him, craving more of his touch.

His fingers trailed back up, slipping under the lace at your hips as he whispered, “You have no idea what seeing you like this does to me.”

His voice was deeper now, laced with desire and intensity. He let his hands roam over your body, tracing the delicate fabric that covered you, while pressing your hips harder against his. You could feel how much he wanted you.

You let out a soft gasp when his fingers finally found the spot between your legs, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the thin fabric of your lingerie. Bradley’s lips were on your neck now, kissing and nibbling along your skin, sending waves of pleasure through you.

You tried to push back against him, wanting to feel more of him, but he was in complete control, keeping the pace slow and torturous.

“Not yet,” he murmured against your skin, his hand moving even slower as he teased you, the tension building with each passing second.

A needy whimper escaped your lips, and Bradley chuckled, his low, raspy laugh only making you want him more.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he whispered, his fingers never leaving their spot between your thighs, driving you to the edge.

Your breath came out in short, desperate bursts. “I need you,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely a whisper as you leaned your head back against his shoulder, giving him even more access to your neck.

Bradley didn’t need any more convincing. In one swift motion, he spun you around to face him, his hands gripping your waist as he pressed his forehead to yours. His eyes, dark and full of desire, searched yours for a brief moment before his lips crashed into yours again. His kiss was rougher this time, full of hunger and urgency as he began guiding you toward the bed.

Before you knew it, you were on your back, and Bradley hovered over you, his gaze tracing every inch of your body, still adorned in the lace that had driven him wild. He paused for a moment, admiring you, his lips curving into a small, mischievous smile.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion and desire.

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, working his way up until his lips were at your chest. His hands slid under you, quickly unclasping the straps of the lingerie and tossing it aside.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispered against your skin, his breath hot as his mouth moved to your breasts, teasing you further.

Your back arched at the feeling of his tongue tracing circles, his hands firmly holding you in place. Every touch sent jolts of pleasure through you, and you could feel the tension building again, stronger and more intense with every kiss, every brush of his fingers.

“Bradley,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair as you urged him on.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Bradley's hands began to roam lower, and as he positioned himself above you, you felt the heat between your bodies build to a breaking point. There was nothing gentle now, just raw need and passion as he finally gave in to the tension that had been building between you since the moment he walked through the door.

He positioned himself between your legs, giving himself a few pumps before he started pushing himself into you. You immediately felt the stretch that had come after six months without any intimacy. He took it slow, pressing kisses to your shoulder as he tried to be gentle.

He gave you a few moments to adjust once he was all the way in, both of your breaths coming in heavy. His hips pressed against yours, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you, but it wasn’t just the physical sensation—it was the connection, the months of longing, and the love that had built up in his absence. The world outside disappeared, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in each other, as if time itself had paused to let you have this moment in full.

With each motion, Bradley’s lips found your skin, trailing heated kisses along your neck, your shoulder, wherever he could reach.

“God, I missed you,” he whispered between breaths, his voice rough with emotion. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath warm and ragged as he whispered more, the words tumbling out between the motions of his body. “Missed you so much… every night I thought about you, baby… how perfect you are… how much I love you.”

The way he said it, his voice thick with yearning, sent shivers down your spine. You felt his hands—firm, but tender—roaming your sides, his fingers digging in slightly as if he needed to confirm you were really there with him. His touch set your skin alight, the months of separation making each caress, each brush of his lips, even more intense. Your body responded to him instinctively, arching into his every movement, meeting his hips with equal fervor.

“Missed this,” he groaned, his forehead still pressed to yours as his pace quickened, his hips driving into you with a little more urgency now. “Missed us… missed the way you feel, the way you move with me…” His voice was hoarse, broken by the weight of his desire and the emotion that flowed between you both. His words only heightened the pleasure building inside you, the sensations intensifying with every thrust, every whispered confession.

Your nails grazed down his back, your fingers grasping at him, needing him closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him. He grunted softly at the feeling, his muscles tightening under your touch, but it only spurred him on, his hips pushing harder, his body pressing against yours as though he was determined to make up for every missed moment.

The heat between you grew unbearable, your body tightening around him as he moved inside of you, the pressure building and building, your breaths becoming more ragged. His voice was still there, whispering against your lips, “I love you… I love you so much,” the sound of it driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Finally, it was too much. The pleasure hit you all at once, washing over you in waves so strong you couldn’t hold back. Your body trembled beneath him, your voice calling out his name, raw and full of the longing you had held inside for so long. Your fingers gripped his shoulders, clinging to him as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Bradley followed you into that release moments later, his body tensing above yours, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. His hips stilled, but his arms wrapped around you even tighter, as though he never wanted to let you go again. His breathing was heavy and uneven against your skin, his chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of his climax.

The two of you stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together in the aftermath, both of your hearts still racing, your bodies still buzzing from the pleasure. Slowly, Bradley pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours, full of love and devotion. His thumb gently traced your cheek as he smiled down at you, the kind of smile that made your heart swell with happiness.

"There anything else in your closet that’s new that I should know about?" He whispered, his voice teasing but warm, as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips, a kiss that was far gentler than the urgency of before, but just as full of love.

As your breathing began to slow, the world came back into focus, but it didn’t matter. At that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, everything else could wait. He was finally home, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

#Top Gun Rooster #Top Gun Rooster Fanfiction #Top Gun Rooster Fanfic #Top Gun Rooster Fic #Bradley Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw Fanfiction #Bradley Bradshaw Fanfic #Bradley Bradshaw Fic #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Bradshaw x reader #Top Gun Rooster x reader #Bradley Bradshaw Smut #Bradley Rooster Smut

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obeymefictionwriting · 2 months ago

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Brothers on Your Anniversary!

This blog honestly gives me so much life, thank you so much for reading and enjoying it! I hope you'll love this hc as much as I do <3

Lucifer

Lucifer has been planning your anniversary like half a year in advance

Meaning, the guy is C O N F I D E N T

You might think he'd be the type to take you to a fancy restaurant and such but he will actually plan the date according to your specific preferences

Doesn't mean he won't get you a huge-ass bouquet with the rarest Devildom flowers

Is actually pretty nervous since it's his first ever anniversary in a relationship and he is a control freak and want it to be perfect for you

Will kiss your knuckles softly and will then twirl you around, effortlessly spinning you in a smooth dance

Gifts you an intricate and beautiful pendant with his love confession engraved on it

"I'm looking forward to the eternity with you by my side, my love"

Mammon

The day will be 10000000% dedicated to you

Shopping spree, any restaurant you want, any activity you wish to try - just say a word

Holding hands 24/7 everywhere, proudly showing you to literally EVERYONE

"Dat's right, dat's my baby and damn we hit 1 year together!"

Is so proud of you being near him that he almost tears up

Poor boy has never had a relationship and is now determined to keep you forever

At the end of the night, will blush heavily as he wraps his arms around your waist and leans in for a kiss

"I'm s-so happy we are t-together...Thanks for dealing with my dumb ass..."

Levi

Decides to surprise you with a kick-ass 3-course dinner cooked entirely by him, obviously

Is EXTREMELY nervous but tries not to show it

Gets you a matching set of pjs and a super cute necklace

Proposes to watch some anime or movies and secretly hopes you'd say yes, because he doesn't feel like going out and wants to be just the two of you this evening

Holds your hand all the time

Plays with your hair lazily and grins

"Can't believe got a person like you to be my partner"

Satan

Classic romance is his thing

Be sure he'll take you to a small and cozy but ridiculously expensive place

He'll insist you two dress up because "the occasion is so very special"

Out of all brothers, is most likely to propose on your anniversary

After dinner, will probably take you to the nearest park; champagne and blanket ready

(oops, a momentary cat distraction)

Showers you with affection and can't keep his hands and eyes off you

"Kitten, I'm honored to be loved by someone like you"

Asmodeus

Mhmmm an anniversary... so exciting!

Plans out a whole day dedicated just to you two

Spa, fancy dinner, shopping, massage - all included!

It's the first time ever for him to care so much about someone else and he is dedicated to make this day unforgettable

"I have a special something just for you"

RENTS THE WHOLE RESTAURANT TO SLOW-DANCE WITH YOU IN THE CANDLE LIGHT

"Honey, you have immense power over me and I surrender to you now and forever"

Beelzebub

He loves you so much that he actually wants to make it NOT about food

The things is, he has no idea what else to do... like... sports, maybe?

You notice how tensed he is and directly ask what's up

Reluctantly agrees to your offer to just eat somewhere and then cuddle home with snacks

"I tried to think of something unique because you deserve the best"

Wraps his hands around you and won't let go

Offers you head massage and just uses any excuse to touch you

"Y'know... You are my dearest person"

Belphie

Actually MAKES AN EFFORT

An attic, stargazing, a bottle of wine, and amazing fruits and sweets - just how good does it sound?

Presents you with a photo album filled with your mutual photos; a sweet note going with every photo

"You made my life full of memories that I'd cherish forever"

Kisses you softly all the time and braids your hair delicately

Loves this moment of peace and happiness but is a teeny tiny bit worried you might have preferred something more outdoorsy

"Just stay with me always, okay?"

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to-the-stars8 · 4 months ago

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The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3 Originally, I was going to make this a half-chapter because I wrote this on my phone while at work, but I decided I'm a bitch who doesn't do half-chapters. Anyway, here's this one. Sorry for any mistakes, it was slightly rushed because I wanted to get something out there since I've been away from the keyboard for a good moment!

Nanny in The Attic

Alfred had asked you to get some spring decorations from the attic, and you were happy to oblige. You loved decorating, it brought a sense of wonderment to your life that was otherwise filled with the endless tasks of being a caretaker. So, you took to the attic like a moth to a flame. There were boxes upon boxes, old coats strewn about, a creepy-looking rocking horse in one corner, and copious amounts of dust.

“The box is labeled but I couldn’t tell you where the damned thing is,” Alfred said as he flipped on the light. “If you like, you could wait until I return. It might be easier.”

You waved him off as you ventured further into the room. “No, no. You’re a busy man, Alfred. Plus, the kids are at school, and this will give me something to do today.”

“Very well, then, have at it,” The old man said, heading towards the attic stairs. “Master Bruce is working from home today, and there’s an intercom on the wall over there if you want to call for help should you need it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind lending a hand.”

You looked over to where the butler was pointing. “Just when I thought this place couldn’t get fancier. Thanks, Alfred. I’ll see you later.”

With a wave, he left. You began to pull apart the attic in search of the alleged spring decor, and it seemed almost hopeless. There were just too many boxes. There was Christmas (which you couldn’t wait to see), Halloween, and just about every holiday decor that had ever existed. Some boxes were full of pictures and jewelry. You took a peek into some, just out of pure curiosity, and were amazed by just how old some of these things were.

Then, you stumbled onto one box that had photo albums from within the past thirty years and decided to look through them. It took you very little time to realize that these were albums of Mr. Wayne’s family.

You smiled, looking at a smaller version of your boss, as you realized just how much Damian looked like him. You also noted just how much Bruce looked like his father. Eerily so. That had to do something to his psyche. His mother was a beauty, too. You found her headshot sitting right under one of the photo albums. She had curly reddish brown hair and deep blue eyes that reminded you of Bruce’s. Mr. And Mrs. Wayne were a handsome couple with the world at their feet, but that was cut short the day they died. You were almost too young to remember but could recall some family member bursting into the kitchen to announce that the Wayne family had been murdered. It wasn’t entirely true, only Mr. And Mrs. Wayne had been killed— leaving behind a traumatized little boy.

“Poor Mr. Wayne,” you said to yourself before putting the albums back. “Now, where in the hell is that box?”

You looked around the room, eyes scanning when you saw it. The box was high up on a shelf labeled ‘spring’ in black Sharpie. After moving some more boxes out of the way, you began to make a path so it would be easier to move. It was going to be so easy and perfect, you thought. Once all the boxes were out of the way, you could grab the step ladder and get what you needed.

Setting the ladder up, you climbed it, but the box was still just out of reach. You supposed that the shelf could support some of your weight, so you lifted your leg to step onto it. What you hadn’t seen was an old broken vase jutting out from one of the boxes. You felt the pain of it cutting into your leg before you knew what it was. With a cry, you fell back hard onto the floor.

“Ow, ow,” you said, pushing yourself up. Looking down at your leg, blood was streaming from the wound. Alfred would not be happy about this, you thought. Putting your hand over the cut so not all the blood would drip onto the floor, you awkwardly made your way over to the intercom.

You had no clue how to use it and began pressing buttons.

“Mr. Wayne,” you would say when it sounded like you got through to a room. “Mr. Wayne, are you there?”

Finally, after about ten minutes, you got a voice coming through the other end, “Everything alright?”

“Aha! Mr. Wayne, I cut my leg pretty bad and think I need a first aid kit. Could I trouble you to bring me one?”

“I’ll be right there,” he said. Before you could say anything back, the line went dead.

Grumbling to yourself, you made your way to the attic stairs to sit and wait for your rescue. Blood was pooling between your fingers, and you could feel it slowly get closer to your socks.

“I’m here, I’m here.” You looked up to see Mr. Wayne rushed up the attic steps with an aid kit in hand before stopping right in front of you. “Alright, let me see.”

You moved your hand to the side, but couldn’t bring yourself to see just how bad it was. He put his hand on your knee to keep your leg steady, and you couldn’t help but notice just how big and warm his hand was.

“Luckily, you don’t need stitches, just a clean-up and some bandages.”

“What should I do?” You asked, hands already going for the kit.

Bruce didn’t let you get close enough to grab it before he picked it up. He didn’t say anything as picked out the hydrogen peroxide, some ointment, and bandages. Pouring a little of the hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball, he slowly started to wipe at your leg. You yelped from the sudden sting and pushed his hand away.

“Stop it, that hurts,” you said meekly. “Ow! Bruce, please.”

He stopped to look at you, eyes meeting yours and thumb starting to trace small circles on your knee, before speaking, “Sorry, just hold still. It won’t take much longer.”

He began to dab the cotton ball back on the wound again, and this time you were prepared for the sting. As he worked on your wound, you stared at him. Mr. Wayne wasn’t just a handsome man, but he was pretty, too. He had the type of looks that befitted a character in a fantasy novel rather than a traumatized rich boy. His eyes, though, were such an intense blue that they were hard not to look at.

You thought out loud, “You have your mother’s eyes.”

Bruce whipped his head up to look at you, eyes narrowing. “What?”

You tried to not let the embarrassment show through. It was a fact that just so happened to slip from your mouth. “You have your mother’s eyes. I saw a picture of her earlier.”

Bruce broke his gaze and continued working on your leg, now putting the bandage on. “Oh.”

“Do you remember your parents?” You asked.

“Yes,” He said after a minute. “Everyone said I looked like my father, but he saw more of my mother.”

You giggled and took his hand when he offered to help you up. “She must have loved that.”

“Oh, she did.” For the first time, you saw Bruce smile genuinely. A smile for himself instead of the kids or you. “That’s why she wanted a girl after me, but they never got around to it.”

“Can’t picture you as an older brother,” you said as you wandered over to the shelf.

Bruce didn’t say anything to that and changed the subject. He offered to get the box down for you, saying that you didn’t need to be reaching up or doing anything else on your leg. You weren’t going to complain and let him get the box.

“Good thing you called me,” He said with a grunt. “It’s heavy. Now, where do you want it?”

“The living room would be a good place to start,” you said before you checked the time. You still had a couple of hours before the kids got home, but thought that perhaps you could wait. “Maybe I should wait for the kids. They may want to help.”

“Alfred would rather burn the manor down.”

You could imagine it. Mr. Wayne brought the kids up in a way that they were very creative, and you could only imagine how that would transfer over in the decor. Alfred was too neat of a person for that.

Mr. Wayne set the box down on the living room coffee table, making a cloud of dust come up from the box, before turning to you. You smiled kindly and thanked him. He nodded before heading towards the door, he stopped halfway before turning to you.

“Make sure you clean your wound, you wouldn’t want it to get infected.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne.”

He nodded before finally leaving you. You looked back down at the decoration in your hands and huffed. It’d be a lot of work, but if you wouldn’t get it done.

And, you did as such. By the time Alfred got home with the kids later that afternoon, he was shocked by just how well you did. The whole house was overflowing with spring delight to the point that he began to ask how you managed such a task. You only told him you had magic hands before you went to tend to the children. They were happy to see you, all of them clamoring about, and noted the bandage on your leg.

“I got in a fight with a bear today,” you said.

Dick rolled his eyes. “You’re such a liar.”

Bruce suddenly popped into the kitchen where all of you were. “It’s true. I was there. I helped fight off the bear.”

“Are there even bears in New Jersey?” Jason asked, curiously.

Duke, on the other hand, looked horrified, “Why are there bears in the backyard, Dad?”

You were quick to tell him that the two of you were only kidding, that the cut really just came from an accident. Duke seemed relieved, while the other kids were a bit disappointed. When they all ran off to do their own things, Bruce quickly stopped you from joining them.

“Next time you decide to decorate, let me know in advance.”

“You don’t like it?”

“On the contrary, actually. What I don’t like is anyone in my household getting hurt.”

You nodded, trying to reason with yourself as to why you had butterflies in your stomach.

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suntoru · 1 year ago

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ scara as ur lvr <;3

summary: scaramouche definitely is not a softie.

a/n: because we all know 💗

wc: 477 words

warnings: fluff, simp behaviour, denial of feelings

─ ✰ SCARAMOUCHE is not a simp. he is a ruthless, cold-blooded harbinger who shows no mercy to his opponents. he bosses people around, breaks their limits, and uses them for his own benefit. he betrays people, the ones who trusted him the most, and turns his back on them. there’s no way he could be a softie even to his own lover, let alone even have one… right?

he definitely does not have a locked, hidden album on his phone named “idiot” filled with hundreds of secret photos he took of you sleeping, eating, smiling, giggling, or drunk, definitely not.

when you’re confused because you woke up on the bed when you’re sure you fell asleep on the couch waiting for him, you must have just been imagining things, cause SCARAMOUCHE isn’t a simp, he wouldn’t have carried you there.

and of course, he does not enjoy cuddling or hugs from his beloved. you must have just moved there in his arms at sleep, because why else would you wake up to him firmly wrapping his arms around your waist? he doesn’t get nightmares of you leaving him for someone more emotionally available, pshh, what a lie!

and SCARAMOUCHE does not get scared when he wakes up in the middle of the night to find you gone, only for you to come back moments later with a glass of water. he doesn’t feel a sigh of relief and a weight come tumbling down his shoulders, because he wasn’t worried in the first place!!

when you trip over a rock and hurt your leg, he rolls his eyes and calls you “stupid.” he’s only carrying you so he can get home faster, alright? there’s no love behind his gentle cradle and slight hints of worry, totally not.

pet names? nuh uh, he definitely doesn’t enjoy it when you call him “scara”, “kuni”, “my love”, or “darling”, and he isn’t blushing, you’re imagining things.

when you go on an adventure quest for a couple of days, he isn’t counting the hours of when you’ll be back in his arms, he has more important things to do, of course. he’s not more grumpy, and he’s only yelling at his underlings because they’re just stupid!! he doesn’t miss your touch, your scent, or your presence, and it most definitely doesn’t feel lonely in your shared home.

when you come back, hugging him tightly, he half-reciprocates because… it would be rude not to! he calls you clingy, huffing slightly, but you miss the ghost of a smile on his face as he looks away. SCARAMOUCHE doesn’t feel more at comfort knowing you’re home safe, he just… needs someone to rant to about his useless subordinates!

you do not have a place in his heart, and SCARAMOUCHE, the sixth fatui harbinger most definitely doesn’t need the presence of a mere mortal… of course not.

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reidsworld · 3 months ago

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Birthday Headcanons

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Mars speaks… some long birthday HC’s cause I turned 19 today😛

Masterlist | Divider from @/saradika-graphics

His birthday’s

2000s

Birthdays aren’t something Logan’s ever celebrated much—years have passed like a blur for him, and he’s lost track of more than a few. But when you find out, you decide he’s overdue for some fun. You throw a little party at the mansion, much to his protest, but he shows up anyway, grumbling about “not needing all this fuss.”

You make him a cake, and when he sees it, he rolls his eyes, muttering, “You know I can’t get drunk, right?” But there’s a smile tugging at his lips as he cuts into it, pretending not to notice the candles you insisted he blow out.

You gift him a brand-new leather jacket, knowing he’s worn his old one down to threads. He tries to act like he doesn’t care, but the way he runs his hand over the material, admiring it, gives him away. Later, you catch him in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar with a little grin.

The rest of the team tries to get him to do something fun, like karaoke or dancing. He’s resistant at first, leaning back in his chair with a gruff, “Not a chance.” But as the night goes on, and you’re smiling at him in that way that makes his heart skip, he relents, grumbling, “Alright, just this once.”

After everyone’s gone to bed, he finds you alone in the kitchen, and he leans against the counter, giving you that half-smirk. “Not the worst birthday I’ve ever had,” he admits, then pulls you into a slow, sweet kiss, his thumb brushing along your jawline.

2010s

By now, Logan’s a bit more aware of his age, though he’ll never admit it out loud. Birthdays are still not his thing, but he knows you won’t let it slide, so he tries to act surprised when you hand him a small, wrapped gift. He makes a show of sniffing it first, “Just making sure it’s not rigged.”

You take him out for a quiet dinner—some place low-key where he doesn’t have to pretend to be anything other than himself. He seems more relaxed, his shoulders lose some of their tension, and he’s even more talkative than usual, sharing stories you haven’t heard before, things from way back.

Later, you take him back to the mansion, where you’ve arranged a little surprise—a playlist of his favourite songs, heavy on The Rolling Stones. He groans, “Seriously?” but then a smile breaks through, and he pulls you into a dance, grumbling all the while that his moves aren’t what they used to be. He holds you close, his forehead resting against yours, swaying gently.

You give him a photo album you put together of all the people and places that have mattered to him over the years—some old, some new. He’s quiet for a while as he flips through the pages, but you catch the way his fingers linger over certain photos, his eyes softer than usual.

That night, he admits, “Maybe getting older isn’t so bad… if I’ve got you.” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into bed, and kisses you like he’s trying to make every moment count.

2020s

By now, Logan’s gotten used to his body betraying him, and birthdays have become a painful reminder of time slipping away. He doesn’t expect much, doesn’t even remember it’s his birthday until you remind him. “Yeah, yeah… another year older,” he grumbles, but there’s a hint of a smile he’s trying to hide.

You’ve planned a quiet day, just the two of you. He doesn’t have the energy for much, but he appreciates the simplicity—a drive in his old truck, a stop at a little diner where they don’t bother him, just letting him enjoy his coffee in peace.

You surprise him with an old vinyl, something rare you tracked down just for him. “Where’d you find this?” he asks, his voice low, almost reverent. He places the record on, and as the music fills the room, he closes his eyes, letting out a slow breath, the tension easing from his shoulders.

That night, he opens up more than he usually does, sharing bits and pieces of memories you’ve never heard before, his voice softer, more reflective. “I guess I’ve lived a long damn life,” he says quietly, his hand wrapped around yours. “Never thought I’d make it this far.”

Before bed, he pulls you into his lap, his hands tracing familiar patterns on your back. “Thanks for sticking around, even when I’m a grumpy old bastard,” he mutters. You laugh, and he presses a kiss to your temple, whispering, “I mean it. I’m damn lucky to have you.”

As you fall asleep beside him, you feel his arms tighten around you, and he murmurs, “Maybe next year, we’ll make it a big one. Just to see what all the fuss is about.” You smile, knowing it’s his way of saying he’s not done fighting yet, not done living, as long as he’s got you by his side.

Your birthday’s

2000s

Logan’s not the best at remembering dates, but he surprises you by remembering your birthday. He tries to act all casual about it, like it’s no big deal, but you catch him sneaking off to ask Jean or Ororo what people usually do for birthdays. When the day comes, he shows up with a small, slightly crumpled bouquet of wildflowers, mumbling something about how “flowers seemed like the right thing.”

He takes you out on his bike, just the two of you, racing through empty roads, wind in your hair, and the world blurring past. You stop at a quiet spot, overlooking the city, and he surprises you with a bottle of wine he swiped from the mansion’s cellar. “Don’t tell Scott,” he jokes with a grin, his eyes twinkling under the moonlight.

You make a wish before blowing out the candles on the cake the team got you, and he leans in, whispering, “Hope you wished for somethin’ good.” There’s a hint of mischief in his voice, and when you ask if he wants to know what you wished for, he just smirks, “Nah, I’ll find out eventually.”

Later, he slips a little gift into your hand—a simple, but beautiful necklace with a tiny charm. “Picked it up on my last trip,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “Figured you might like it.” You can tell he put a lot of thought into it, and when you thank him, he just gives you a rare, genuine smile.

2010s

By now, Logan’s gotten better at the whole “birthday thing.” He doesn’t plan anything extravagant, but he knows you well enough to give you a day that’s just right. He starts with breakfast in bed—pancakes, scrambled eggs, and your favourite coffee, even though he grumbles about “not being a chef.”

He takes you to a small bookstore that you love, the kind with creaky floors and shelves that stretch to the ceiling. You spend hours browsing, and he’s surprisingly patient, leaning against the wall, flipping through some old paperbacks. When you’re not looking, he buys the books you were eyeing and hands them to you as a surprise later on.

The two of you spend the afternoon outside, just lying on a blanket in the park, enjoying the peace and quiet. He brings a small speaker and plays some of your favourite songs, mixed in with a few of his own. “Gotta educate you on the classics,” he teases, grinning as The Rolling Stones play in the background. You end up dancing together, your laughter filling the air, and he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

As the day winds down, he pulls you close and tells you he’s got one last surprise. He takes you up to the roof of the mansion where he’s set up a few blankets and pillows, a bottle of wine, and a small picnic. The two of you watch the sunset, his arm wrapped around you, and he says softly, “Happy birthday, darlin’. I hope today was everything you wanted.”

That night, he holds you close, pressing soft kisses to your temple and murmuring, “I don’t need a special day to show ya how much you mean to me… but I’m glad you got one.” And he falls asleep holding you, a rare peaceful expression on his face.

2020s

At this point, Logan knows you well enough to plan a birthday that’s completely tailored to you. He starts the day with a quiet breakfast, letting you sleep in while he cooks your favourite meal. There’s a soft smile on his face as he brings you coffee, knowing exactly how you like it. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He knows big celebrations aren’t your thing anymore, so he keeps it simple—a road trip to somewhere you’ve never been. He lets you pick the destination, and you end up at a secluded cabin by a lake, where it’s just the two of you and the sound of nature all around. “Figured we could use the peace,” he says with a grin, his eyes soft as he looks at you.

Throughout the day, he surprises you with little things—a book you’ve been wanting, a sweater in your favourite colour, even a rare bottle of whiskey he managed to find. “Not as good as what they had back in the day,” he jokes, “but it’ll do.”

He takes you out on the lake in a small boat, rowing you around under the afternoon sun. There’s a calmness about him, a contentment you don’t often see, and he reaches out to take your hand, squeezing it gently. “Thanks for stickin’ around all these years,” he says softly, his voice filled with more emotion than usual.

As the sun sets, he lights a small campfire, and the two of you sit together, watching the stars come out one by one. He wraps a blanket around your shoulders and pulls you close, whispering in your ear, “You deserve more than I could ever give you… but I’ll spend the rest of my life tryin’.”

That night, you fall asleep in his arms, his heartbeat steady against your back, and he murmurs, “Here’s to another year with you, darlin’.” His voice is low, gravelly, and filled with a kind of love that only seems to grow stronger with time.

The next morning, you wake up to find him cooking breakfast again, grumbling about “getting the hang of it” and how he’s going to “make sure every damn birthday from now on is better than the last.” And you know he means it, in that way that’s so uniquely Logan.

Mars speaks... (again) I've been super busy lately with school so hope this will hold y'all over till I can post again lmao. any and all feedback is always appreciated🫶

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett headcanon #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman #x men #fanfiction #headcanon #reidsworld

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