#he took a bullet from her and gifted her

[kittensandforeheadkisses]

man really said "since i'd never likely penetrate you I'd commemorate the one time you penetrated me" and gives her a bullet she shot at him as a pendant for her birthday present

[queers-gambit]

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[lucyrose191]

OBSESSED|| J.F POTTER

Pairing; James Potter x Fem!Girlfriend!reader

Summary; It’s no secret that James Potter is absolutely obsessed with his girlfriend and he couldn’t be more in love.

Warnings; None. (Fluff.)

HP/Marauders Master List

The entirety of Hogwarts were not ignorant of the knowledge that when James Potter loved, he loved hard and he did it with everything he had in him.

They had seen it in the way he treated his closest friends and they had most definitely seen it when they had seen him pine after Lily Evans, trying with everything in him to gain her affections.

However, after at least a hundred hairline cracks to his heart it was important to make the decision to move on from the red head before his heart broke in two.

It was hard to believe that the Potter boy had truly decided to put the red head behind him, even his friends weren’t really sure they believed him but it just so happened that the boy was telling the truth.

He no longer put on grand performances professing his love, no longer sent gifts via owl flying through the Great Hall and no longer tried to ask out Lily on a date.

Instead he took time to focus on himself, his studies and his friends.

It turns out that when your entire focus is simply on the girl you thought was the love of your life and pranking others it could really affect a person’s grades and so when Minnie had suggested the idea of a tutor he happily agreed with her, he wanted to prove that he really was serious about his studies and his future, not just to his professors but to his parents too.

He wanted to be more than a spoilt, rich boy that got handed everything he could ever need.

He wanted to earn the opportunities he was being given.

Lucky for him, he got a lot more than he was bargaining for when he walked into McGonagall’s classroom that day to find you sitting at one of the desks with your head stuck in a book, waiting for him.

Not only did his grades start skyrocketing but he found that with each tutoring session he spent with you a weight began to grow in his chest, only growing heavier with each moment you spent together.

He’d begin to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him, hair messily pulled back away from your face, eyes narrowed in concentration as you read whatever book you had with you that week, he thought you were adorable.

Slowly, he had accepted the fact that he did indeed, have a crush on you.

He approached it differently than he had with Lily though, instead of grand gestures and eccentric performances, he instead settled for subtle acts of service and innocent touches.

An entire two months he had spent sending subtle glances your way, asking innocent questions to get to know you better, strategically taking notice in the way you’d react to his minor compliments or soothing touches to try and find out if you in some way felt the same.

He thought you did, you had to, right?

He wasn’t imagining the way your cheeks would turn pink when he brushed his hand against you or the way you’d shyly refuse eye contact with him when he looked at you a certain way.

He couldn’t have been imagining it.

He wasn’t. When he eventually bit the bullet and asked you out on a date he couldn’t believe it when you had agreed.

A night spent in the Astronomy Tower with your favourite snacks as you talks for hours and watched the stars had been the start of it all.

There was no doubt about it that James Potter loved you, Hogwarts had never seen him happier.

"He’s doing it again," Sirius groaned, seeing the way James was sitting with his head rested against his palm, seemingly in a daydream as he stared across the hall at you.

It would’ve been deemed creepy if they didn’t know he was staring at his girlfriend, you.

"Leave him alone, Padfoot, he’s in love," Remus teased, briefly glancing up from the novel he was reading, it amazed him every time at just how easy it was to read the emotions swimming in his friend’s hazel eyes.

"He was never like this with Lily," Peter piped up through a mouth of pastry.

Sirius gave him a look of disgust before commenting "He doesn’t even know who Lily is anymore, there’s only two women that exist to our Prongs here and those are his mother and the girl he’s currently staring holes into."

There was no indication that James had heard Sirius’ words but he suddenly jumped up from his seat, startling his three friends. "I need to go give Y/N a hug before she forgets about me." He briefly explained before hurrying towards his girl.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Sirius mutters in disbelief, all three of them turning to stare at where you were now in James’ arms, looking up at him with a loving smile.

There was no lie in the saying that Potter’s only fall in life once, they just first need to learn the difference between love and infatuation.

He had been infatuated with Lily, but he was beyond in love with you.

[modedelagauze]

Lying is The Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

​​pairing: Ellie Williams x f!reader summary: Ellie finds out you do burlesque and fucks you in costume after the show. cw: nsfw, dom!Ellie, thigh riding, praise kink, cursing, strap, fingering (4.2k) Read the extended version on AO3 HERE

an: I've got serious p!atd brain rot right now so stream Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off to get the full vision~

unedited btw!

“Five minutes!” shouted a voice over many, somewhat distorted by the echo of clicking heels rapidly shuffling between the narrow corridors of the dressing rooms and storage closets sandwiched among one another downstairs. You took a moment to reapply a thick layer of the blood colored bullet in your fingers and puckering to place a kiss on the surface of a half boa covered mirror as a way of wishing good luck to yourself before the show. You were one of the only cabaret girls who actually sang at the club and the only girl to  have ever sang for Ellie Williams personally. At the beginning of the semester you’d often spend late afternoons alone and enclosed within the padded walls of the black box theater, on campus, practicing. You were blissfully unaware of the fact that there was someone else who was also using the space on occasion, probably for the better. It only was two weeks into the term that you’d stayed later than usual singing–ten minutes at most–and been disturbed by the nervous brunette carrying a guitar. To avoid drawing attention, Ellie had always entered the theater through its reliably unlocked back doors only to be gifted with the sound of your voice. Entranced by the melody, she decided to wait behind the curtains, standing just far enough for a view of your form without being noticed. It was only when you turned to take a swig of water that you became aware of the girl watching you. After that encounter she suggested that the two of you spend some time singing together, that you could learn a thing or two from each other. You ended up learning how magical her fingers could feel buried deep within that aching cunt of yours. With time, of course, she’d gone and destroyed what the two of you had built by indecisively bouncing back and forth between you and some girl back home. So, here you were ignoring her third call of the week and at the same time hoping to see her in passing just for one moment of spite.

On the stairs down from the dressing room, you practiced breathing exercises in preparation for the upcoming vocal stress. Girls called out wishes of support as you made your way down the long hall until their voices faded into the hushed whispers of patrons and the sharp clanging of glasses upon their wooden tables. It felt as though time had sped up tenfold how a wire was so quickly slid behind your ears and down your costume; a small flesh colored earpiece rushed into your right palm to be placed comfortably at your own will. Right at center stage was the band’s pianist, side facing the curtains, whilst the rest of the group were all tucked along the left side of the stage facing the audience. He passed along a supportive nod in your direction as you rushed into position; that being sat atop the far right side of his piano with an arched back and one thigh flush against the wood while the other was kicked up and bent.  

“Thirty seconds till curtains rise,” ushered one of the techies and thus began the pianist, a playful and upbeat tempo before joined by the bass then guitars. The crowd cheered, queueing everyone behind the curtains that the two dancers upon the stage beyond had begun dancing along to the music. Slowly the velvet draping began to reveal light, decorating everyone behind the curtains too in ribbons of dancing radiance. 

In synchronization with the drums having now kicked in and the curtains fully raised, you began in a teasing tone, “Is it still me that makes you sweat?”  Your hands navigated down your hair and to your breasts, stopping to cup them ever so slightly before tauntingly sliding a single bra strap down between the lines, “am I who you think about in bed when the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you’re sliding off her dress?” An o-shaped expression of faux-embarrassment graced your face for a moment before gliding off of the piano and maneuvering around it to wrap your arms around the pianist in an attempt to imitate the look of a neck kiss. The next line was one of mockery, “Think of what you did and how I hope to god she was worth it.” As the final words of the phrase escaped your lips, your eyes landed on Ellie sandwiched within the crowd along the center stage, earning a stutter only recognized by the pianist as his eyes quickly darted to you and back to his instrument of choice. “When the lights are dim–And your heart is racing as your fingers touch her skin.” The line was rushed in order to catch up with your stutter, though the pianist threw in an additional key to make up for it, smiling as he played. In one fluid motion the two dancers along stage, darted to your figure and tugged on either side at both arms. You sang with pure confidence, borderline arrogance “I’ve got more wit” as one dancer dropped your arm the other spun you into hers and ran a hand along your face, thumbing at your flush bottom lip “a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck than any girl you’d ever meet.” Your song choice for the night had been a very carefully curated one though you weren't expecting to see Ellie any time soon–especially at your place of work out of all locations–it felt so good to sing your emotions out and leave them on the stage, but seeing her just now had felt like the greatest fuck you that the universe could offer. Had she even known that you’d be here or was it all by pure coincidence? Regardless, you'd come to the conclusion that now was no better a time than ever to remind her of the mistake she’d made. The other dancer’s hands found their way to your waist, unraveling you from the original’s hold and into her own. Both of your hands landed in your hair, teasingly pulling at it leading her to imitate the ghost of an open-mouthed moan, “Sweetie you had me.”

The routine required you to pick a random guest in the audience to sing to and Ellie had just so managed to pick one of the best seats in the house. Navigation was really quite effortless as you made sure to spend a lingering moment here and there singing into the face of occasional patrons. Each strum of the bass was a stride forward before unabashedly ending up at Ellie's table. You managed to dance around the other people sitting there and right into her face without wasting a beat. You asked and received and here she was in all her glory, a bewildered look upon her face as if she hadn't expected for you to make such a commotion about her appearance. You knew under that carefree attitude that she loved to portray there was still that same nervous girl tucked away within. It was as if she’d planned to show up in order to provoke you and realized that now was too late to back out. Usually she had no issue confronting any issue at hand but the problem was that she hated the attention confrontation brought her. She wanted your attention after having not seen you in so long and was desperate enough to risk embarrassment for it, which said more than enough.

Her gaze brought out a degree of seduction in you that had been fighting to finally be on the prowl again, tantalizing and enough for the girl in front of you to practically taste you with her eyes. You could see her fingernails hopelessly digging into the arm rests of her chair, respecting  the club rules that patrons weren’t allowed to touch any of the performers unless they placed the hands of patrons upon their bodies themself. 

A wicked smile was unavoidable as your hands grew to extend themselves past your own body and onto hers, delicately tiptoeing down her shoulder blades, scuffling the tips of your freshly manicured nails down the sides of her biceps. How you knew she loved the scratches; the way you would often leave her skin tinged red the following morning after a scandalous night. Maintaining eye contact was the name of the game for the entire duration of your little escapade. Naturally you already had the girl by an inch or two, but with the added height of heels you were a steel tower of carnality that she wished to rip apart. If anything she liked that you were taller because It made watching you sink down onto her strap all the more enjoyable. Seemingly the length of your legs created an illusion of prolonged time settling down upon her crude nature and she could watch you ride all night long.

You were sure to drag your claws along her jeans, pressing just hard enough for her to feel it through the fabric as your hands retracted down to her knees and you dropped to a close legged crouch looking up at her, running your hands across your own skin and through your hair, suspending it all in the air long enough for her to get a good glance at the exposed skin of your neck and hickeys from someone who wasn’t her. Slowly you stood again, rocking your hips back and forth as and circled her seat. She hadn't taken much of a sip from her drink and so from behind you snatched the floating cherry stem from its alcohol soaked entrapment. When you could see her eyes again, you reached to wrap your left hand around her jaw, forcing it open as you allowed the cherry to hover over your outstretched tongue then flicking it inside of her mouth. Of course she caught on and separated the cherry from its stem and you dropped what was left of it back into the drink. “Oh no, you know it will always just be me.”

From there you made your way back to the stage and concluded the set. Exiting the stage, you caught the view of a faint glow upon Ellie's face as was seemingly typing away furiously upon that screen. When you finally got to the dressing room your phone had lit up with a flurry of messages from the distressed brunette. The first about how beautiful you were, next demanding you keep your costume on, followed by how much she wanted to ruin your pretty makeup and finally concluding it all by asking if you could just come outside for a moment. And of course she got the better of you. Frankly you were turned on by how desperate she looked and sounded. Maybe you’d punished her for long enough? Washington got cold fast and by early November snowfall was impending so you grabbed your fleece and made for the back door where-to nobody’s surprise-Ellie was parked almost directly in front of the door whilst leaning against the passenger door waiting for you. 

“It’s good to see you.” She spoke as she moved to open the door for you to get in.

With only inches between your lungs, you crossed your arms stopping dead in your tracks. “That’s not what you said to me Ellie. You asked me for a moment, not a damn joyride.”

The brunette rolled her eyes, now dropping her crossed arms to motion at the enormous building behind you. “Can you just listen to me for five minutes (†)?” she sighed loudly before continuing on in an almost pleading tone. “You just gave me a fucking amazing show and the place is obviously about to close. The least I can do is congratulate you on all this, because I haven't heard a lick from you in the last two weeks and suddenly you've become a damn good showgirl.”

Avoiding the situation, you sniffled at the bitter cold before gliding inside of her leather interior. “I’m freezing.”

She was quick to slam the door shut, mumbling something about you irritating her as she made her way back around to the driver’s side. Humming quietly, the speakers inside said what she refused to say aloud, “Why don't you show me a little bit of spine you’ve been saving for his mattress. I only want your sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me.” And of course you would've done just that, but it was only fair that you made the process difficult. Too many times had you easily given into her apologies within hours. Truthfully you missed her and the way she fucked you, but don’t get it twisted, it wasn’t that Abby hadn’t been easily laying you to rest when you couldn't see Ellie and vice versa, but why have only one pretty girl in your life when you could have two of them? It was pure and utter unapologetic greed.

As she had previously requested, you kept the same lingerie from earlier on; a pair of fishnet tights, low rising short shorts decorated by black sequins with a matching bustier so low cut that she was surprised it had not warranted one nip slip throughout the entire show. A plethora of golden cuffs spanned either of your biceps while a frilled garter belt adorned your left thigh and your hair, she couldn't even begin to speak on those perfect ringlets and how they framed your face, cascading down your shoulders into ink blotted waterfalls. The charm decorated braids placed sporadically around your head were always the cherry on top of it all because she loved how she could always hear you coming before she actually saw you; waiting like a dog with perked ears for a treat. 

After her door was closed and locked you turned to face the girl, now ready to lay bare whatever needed to be said and done. “Well?” You taunted, sliding your feet from their heeled prisons and bringing your legs up to your chest to sit comfortably.

Ellie adjusted the gear before she moved to reach behind the head of your seat , reversing out of the parking lot. Her eyes darted over to you then back on the road, laughing dryly as she responded. “Please don’t play stupid with me (†). We both know why you’re in my car.” 

You opened your mouth to speak then decided against it, staring out of the window with crossed arms when you responded. “How did you even find out where I work at Ellie?”

She laughed before placing a hand on your thigh, playfulling squeezing the tender tissue. “I knew that I only had to look for the most glamorous place around. Besides, Jessie really doesn’t like conflict.”

“And who the fuck are you, going around asking my friends about me Ellie?”

“He’s my friend too. I don’t understand why you have to be so damn difficult when you’re sitting barefoot in my car. I can’t think of any other reason you’d be undressing yourself already.” You’d been so busy pretending to be mad at her that you hadn’t realized that the car had just come to a stop in an empty parking lot, with only the faint illumination of a nearby lamppost to reveal the silhouette of her face in a warm wash of light.

Finally you decided to face her, “Maybe I’ve decided to change things up. I like hearing you whine, Ellie.” her gaze softened, eyebrows raised as a smirk played at the corner of her mouth fighting to reveal itself. 

Ellie reoriented herself to lean on the center console, partially to close the space between the two of you and also to allow her eyes finally a better view, mentally undressing your figure in the process. “You’re so demanding (†).”

You leaned in, whispering a final retort before closing the gap. “I get off to being worshiped by you, Ellie.” 

You could feel the girl smiling into the kiss as her fingers entrenched your curls, holding them tightly in a delicate cluster. After the two of you finally pulled apart a string of saliva had remained connecting you both until you’d moved far enough to break the thin bond. Her eyes were darker now, thinking of the ways she could mold you into whatever she wanted in this car. “Get in the backseat,” she demanded breathlessly. The girl then increased the volume of her music before she joined you back there, the next track being ‘Is It Really You’ from Loathe.

The two of you fought like swordsmen to control the encounter, Ellie forcing you into the cold glass of the window when she was the one kissing you and then switching to Ellie restrained with her head to the leather when you were the one kissing her. You sat straddling her lap, one leg folded up along her hip and the other fallen between the leg space separating the front and back seats. Your fingers threaded through her hair as an arm moved to gently squeeze your throat, locking you in place as the other reached around, palming your ass for a couple seconds before she snuck a finger around the ribbon holding your bustier together, tugging at the material. “So fuckin pretty,” she gasped between the dancing of your tongues. “Put your arms up.” You did as told with a careless disregard for the long process of getting that thing back on after all of this was over. You just wanted her all over you now. 

Ellie was a mess as she watched the reveal of your breast falling free from the bustier, instantly taking a taunt bud into her mouth and tweaking the other in her fingers. You moaned at the shockwaves it sent echoing down your body straight to your pussy, but there were no breaks to this ride. 

You didn’t even realize her fingers had already peeled back the crotch of your shorts when the sound of your fishnets ripping under her grasp brought you back down to reality. The air was cold against your clothed, sticky cunt as it begged for room to breathe. Her fingers began massaging small circles onto the inflamed pearl, already wet enough for it to stick to your panties. “All this dancing around the fuckin’ questions I ask you,” she laughed over your hushed moans before stopping to slap your desperate pussy. “Tryna pretend you didn't want this, but you’re so fucking wet already (†).” 

You’d forgotten who you were under her hold. Somehow it had become so embarrassing to be as bratty as you were, deliberately pissing her off in order to earn a good fucking, sitting there with your eyes screwed up and a hand over your mouth, silencing the pornographic noises attempting to escape your throat over mere dry humping. “Come back to me baby; You don't get to run away.” she teased, resulting in an aggressive hickey pressed into the skin above your nipple. Another electrifying shock when she bit down and in that same moment sneaking her digits into your panties to now perform an inhumane assault on your pink parts. “I wanna hear you.” The vulgar brunette hummed.

“How many times did she make you cum?”

Your eyes threatened to shut closed again, nearing the verge of pleasure filled tears sliding down your perfectly powdered cheeks, “What baby?”

“Abby.” At this point she was starting to sound annoyed, picking up the pace.

Out squealed a voice that you hadn't known could even come from within, “I don't know.”

“Then we should start counting how many I can put you through.”

Just as you could see the horizon of your orgasm approaching she retracted her fingers from the sopping canal, earning an exasperated whine on your end. She took your jaw into her left hand, turning your face away from her as she drug her tongue down your skin, biting at it rougher than she normally was-like there was something to be proven. “You want me to fuck you real bad huh?” She gloated, hooking a finger around the seat of your undies and running her digits along your slit, collecting more than enough slick for it to run down her fingers and onto her palm “Yeah?” She continued, pushing two fingers into your hole without warning. 

“Please,” was all that you could muster, grinding your hips onto her fingers for any sort of additional pressure. Almost there. Like clockwork she caught onto what you were attempting and stopped you dead in your tracks with her fingers having gone limp and the other hand holding your hips in place. 

“Now, you know better than that.” She spoke imitating faux-empathy, “especially when we’re like this with each other.” Because normally after arguing the two of you fucked it out and at some point during the transaction someone apologized resulting in an orgasm for the other but for now this was world’s nastiest game of chicken. In passing moments, she began again, fingers curving directly into that spot that made you see stars in the night, a hand placed on your hips rocking them back and forth. “C’mon baby, fuck yourself for me.” And you damn sure rode her like it was nothing, eyebrows knit together as you focused your entire being on getting off. It didn't even take a whole minute for you to get there, and Ellie grinned at her handy work, but this was only the beginning. “One. That’s a good girl.” Your legs shook in reaction to her aggression and you attempted to stop her fingers from continuing on, wrapping your own around her steady wrist.

“Move your hands (†).” She ordered as your eyes began to water from the overstimulation.

“I can’t.” You pleaded in broken whimpers.

All she could do was laugh at you again, offering encouragement as if this was nothing to her. “You will. I need to hear that shit real loud on my dick.” Those words alone were enough to send you through another fiery orgasm. You swore your moans were loud enough to be heard beyond the entrapment of this car and Ellie liked pushing herself to see just how loud she could get you. “Two. It was that easy.”

Stiff fabric was good for hiding things just as she had until now, exposing the strap on that you had assumed to have been her phone in her pocket earlier. Ellie took you into her arms, rearranging the two of you where she was now the one on top and your head resting against the door’s storage compartment. “You ready baby?” she enquired, taking a minute to kiss your cheeks. You nodded, cunt throbbing for more as she watched it produce more of that thick hot arousal. 

“You got the prettiest pussy in the world, (†).” She began, taking the plastic dick into her hand and tracing your slit, bewitched by the beautiful glass shine of your cum dripping down onto the leather seat as if an antiquated romantic painting. In that moment the guilt came flowing down her conscious for everything. Just wanted to make up for it by making you feel good. “Fuck, I can’t wait,” the girl whined, slowly pushing herself into you, feeling her own wetness completely entrenching her boxers and making its way for her thighs. The way your hair laid along the car interior, fanning out around you like a headdress made her melt, stopping to kiss you again before she began stroking slowly, making sure to allow you time to adjust to the feeling of fullness. 

“More,” You pleaded, beginning the process of catching her rhythm in your hips. 

“Yeah?” She answered, taking your thighs into her hands and sliding them over her shoulders, thrusting deeper for a couple of moments. “Feel good?” You struggled to formulate a coherent response and decided on simply nodding between moans. Ellie took this as a sign to make up for lost time, fucking into you with such force you were sure she could feel it on her own end, getting closer to finally cumming. 

“Like that! Just like that!” ripped a scream from your lungs, satisfied with her rhythm having at last caught onto matching with her. She thought you were too fucking gorgeous of a girl that just looking at you had her loosing it, just seeing your expressions and the way your tits bounced so beautifully, revealing the stretch marks on their underside that she so loved to trace when the two of you laid in bed together; a live erotic portrait unable to be topped by even the masters themselves. Your arms locked around Ellie’s neck, taking her hostage in your grasp and moaning feverishly into the girl’s ears. Before one could get past your lips another would come, choking you on your own pleasure. “So fuckin good El’s.” If she was doing everything right then you wouldn’t have been able to speak, so she slipped an arm between your stomach and hers, pressing your abdomen down  while the other arm kept you locked in place for her to use and abuse. You yelped, surprised by the added pressure, now feeling her deeper than before. Your hands loosed around her neck, digging into her back possibly even drawing blood.

“Take it, pretty girl.” she cooed, wanting everyone on the street to know her name and how good she made you feel. Didn’t matter how late into the night it was. It wasn't long until you came unraveled under her, your thighs clenching in anticipation for the coming waves of your climax. “Atta girl, I got you,” she whispered, continuing her dangerous pounding. A banshee would’ve been disturbed by the sound of you two. Of course Ellie always had to get the last laugh. “Three,” she sighed, wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed on her clammy forehead, bits of her fringe stuck adhered to the skin. "Forgive me?"

Would you guys be interesting in full length fic? I had lot of fun writing this. :p

Original Release: 11/7/24 Edit: 11/8/24

[delphi-shield]

ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴜᴛꜱ ↪ strap-on hcs

mdni

strap in and strap ON sorry

took a break from working on fluff pieces to slap this together. all i do on this stupid website is reveal what a huge sub i am im furious.

characters included: jill valentine, claire redfield, rebecca chambers, ada wong, helena harper, a very special secret guest (leon kennedy)

content: feat. reader receiving and giving, oral, piv, licking of fluids, light humiliation, talking you through it, established relationship assumed, reader is afab in helena & leon's parts, strap-on gratuitous referred to as dick and cock.

You don't need to convince Jill the strap is real. She already knows. She's convincing you the strap is real.

She's informing you as a courtesy that she's going to knock you up, and the way she has you all knotted up, hands pressing the backs of your thighs up, up, up, as wide as she can get you, you believe her.

She drills down into you, tits bouncing, making you go cross-eyed. You try to keep your noises locked behind your lips, sweet little whines muted. Your hand reaches for her and she swats it away before you can so much as brush a nipple. Jill grips your jaw so hard it stings, squishing your cheeks together until your noises are loud enough for the neighbors to complain.

Her hands leave you once you melt into the mattress. The rustle and chime of her removing her harness is a lullaby to you, wind chimes on a muggy summer night.

When you're finally boneless beneath her, limbs heavy, body covered in a sheen of sweat, lube, and cum, she trails the backs of her fingers along your spine. Her palm presses to the small of your back, velvet voice in your ear purring praise for you.

But when she dangles her gear in front of you, the bumper that had sat flush with her cunt still gleaming with her cum.

“Clean this up for me,” Jill instructs, hand curled around the base of your skull while you gorge yourself.

Claire, on the other hand, is secretly flustered by your attempts to convince her the strap is real.

You're jerking her off mid-make out and she's rolling her eyes because c'mon, you know I don't feel that, right?

Sure, baby. Anything you say. Her hips keep rocking to meet your fist, her nipples peaked, arching into your touch. She drags you in by your shirt until you're straddling her, dick wedged stiffly at the apex of your thighs. When you squirm, she laughs.

“Wanna ride it, huh?” Claire taunts, her hands trailing against your side. She doesn't expect you to say please. If it were real, it would have twitched.

Claire can be so mean when she teases but she falls apart when you dish it back to her. You grind against her, palming her dick to keep it right where you need it, right where it feels best, because Claire can't stop lifting her hips, can't stop bucking against you even though she insists she ‘can't feel it’.

You begged her to cum inside you just once and her hips snapped against yours, like she was trying to buck you off.

Your hands brace on her shoulders, grinning in the face of Claire's scowl.

“Just get on your hands and knees already. Jesus. I'm gonna make you ask next time.”

Rebecca can't stop slapping it around just to watch it wiggle. She bats at it like a cat, tugs it down with one finger just to watch it spring up and nearly slap her stomach.

“It's so funny,” she insists, not realizing she's dangling a piece of meat in front of a hungry lion.

As much fun as she has just fiddling with it, she's not truly sold on the strap-on experience until you gift her a harness with a little pouch for a bullet vibe.

Her technique falls to pieces, but the way she fucks you is so enthusiastic that it's hard to be mad when she ruins your orgasm with her sloppy thrusts.

She's finding her third orgasm when her stamina wears out. Rebecca collapses against your back, hips still flush with yours, dick buried in you to the hilt. Your chest falls flat and she faces in after you, pressing a groan to your skin when the vibe hums against her clit just right. Her hips thrust staccato, chasing herself over the edge again, fucking herself somehow deeper into you.

“Sorry, sorry,” Rebecca whimpers, finally pulling out of you. She wiggles out of the harness like it's in fire, the vibration suddenly too much all at once.

When she finally catches her breath, she asks, “did you..?” and she's mortified when you shake your head before she even finishes her sentence.

Her hands pry your thighs apart before you can even tell her it's okay. She demands you lay back, hands gliding under your ass to move you where she wants. Her jaw isn't tired.

Ada really doesn't bust it out that often. She has no inclination towards penetrative sex, insists she can make you feel just as good without it - but she does acknowledge that sometimes these tools serve their purposes.

It's like you can hear a chorus of angels when she opens the soft case she keeps her glittery black strap in. She rolls her eyes, tells you not to look so eager.

How can you not? She passes you her gear and lets you guide the harness up her legs, lets you kiss her cunt in preemptive thanks before you fit her cock over it - and then you kiss the head, too.

Once, you thought you saw her drool when you looked up at her, strap down your throat, eyes wet with tears. It seemed so unlike her, so messy in the place of her usual curated stoicism. You'd clung to that image for months, hung it in your mind as the real Ada shining from between all her layers, and you'd spent months gagging yourself on her cock for a glimpse of her.

She coaches you through it no matter how many times you take her. She sets her palm against your cheek, watches you lean into her touch, cock prodding against your other side.

“So pretty like this, aren't you?” Mhm, yes ma'am. You can't say that, but you try to tell her with your eyes. “You're doing so well. A little more. Think about where you want me next.”

There's always a next with Ada. She doesn't do anything in half measures and that includes you. Maybe there was a time where she would have taken her pleasure quickly, where she'd have been gone before your own could crest, but now the only time it truly feels like you have her is when she's in bed with you.

Helena leaves you wobbling around like a newborn deer every single time. Her arm curls around your waist the morning after, tugs you back to bed in apology when she sees you stumbling.

“M'sorry baby.” She presses her nose just behind your ear, inhales deeply, fits her body against your back. “I'll be more gentle next time.”

So that was a fucking lie.

Helena's got a thing about windows, likes to fuck you up against them, her feet planted wide, grinding her strap into you hard and deep.

Her promise to be more gentle is long forgotten. She keeps you crowded against the glass, your shirt yanked down so your tits press flat on the window. Large or small, tits or pecs, she wants them out and on display for anyone who galena to look up and see how good you're getting it.

Helenas's other hand stays pressed to your navel, like she's trying to feel herself moving in you, “all the way in your stomach, huh? You feel me?”

On rare nights when she wants it, she wants it hard. She wants her brains scrambled she tells you, tightening the harness at your hips. She presses a kiss where the fat of your hip bubbles up, runs her fingers reverently along the dips and divot of your skin.

It's the most softness you'll get until she's satisfied. If you can't or won't pound her into the mattress (or carpet, or countertop, or backseat, or…) then she has no problem forcing you to sit still while she fucks herself on your cock.

Leon is so fucking angry when you slap your strap against his cheek. He's scowling up at you, all puffed up and defensive. Maybe now that he knows how it feels he'll stop doing it to you. (You hope not.)

“I think you've done this before,” you muse when he finally takes you into his mouth. You waited ‘til he couldn't respond, of course, just to see him glare at you. It's hard to pout when your mouth is full of cock, but Leon manages it. (See? He's a pro.)

This was his idea. You don't know what he's being so pissy about it for. You'd have thought it was Christmas the way his eyes lit up when he found your strap-on, shoved to the very bottom of a box. It had been an interesting moving day. Leon had found it in him to wait until his friends were gone to tell you about his discovery. The teasing, you'd expected. The interest, not as much.

“You gonna be pouty if I'm bigger than you?” You teased, expecting a laugh, not a fucking moan.

The pattern develops quickly. You brush his hair gently from his face. He pulls off your cock. Your hand fists in his hair, urging him back. He moans, fits even more of you into his mouth, nearly gags himself and recovers like a champ.

Leon pulls off you, lips swollen and spittle trailing. You need to ask him if he's okay with pictures, you realize, stomach squirming and heat pooling. Your thumb smooths over his cheekbone and the gentleness has him rocking into his knees, reaching past you for a bottle of lube. He tosses it to you and you nearly drop it, too busy watching him lay back, cock flushed and leaking against his skin.

When you finally remember how to breathe, you wobble in between his legs. You line your cock up with his. It takes both your hands to wrap completely around the two of you. Leon's eyes flutter shut.

“I'm bigger,” you whisper, unable to help yourself. Leon glares at you, jaw clenching. You'd think he was mad if his dick hadn't just jumped in your hand.

[comfortscripts]

A Glimpse Of What I'd Do For You l Coriolanus Snow

Plot - As the First Lady of Panem, it is your duty to protect your husband. Even if it means dirtying your hands. But what is a little blood when the reward is so sweet? Pairing - Young!President!Coriolanus Snow x Wife!Female!Reader Warnings - Heavy plot + light porn. They are both mad, but sweet for each other. Murder/execution with guns, blood, body worship (??), nipple play, toxic language (??), light aspects of oral (fem receiving), softdom!corio. I fully believe he would be a total simp for someone on his wavelength Word Count - 1,288

Check out the rest of my kinktober fics

“Darling, could I trouble you for a moment?”

Words breaking through the tense atmosphere that Coriolanus has cultivated in his private office. Harsh oak furniture, meticulously organised bookcases, swirls of browns and reds with faint hints of a cool gold. The help liked to say the cold of the room matched Mr. Snow’s frozen heart, but even the ruthless President of Panem couldn’t help the way his shoulders relaxed at his wife’s delicate words.

“You are never a trouble,” he spoke with the push of his sturdy throne-like chair against the floor, punctuating his words. “Come in, my snowdrop.”.

The First Lady of Panem was nothing if not obedient. Perhaps that’s why Coriolanus allowed you into his kingdom after six months of marriage.

Wordlessly, you rounded the desk to perch yourself upon his navy-blue-clad leg and perfectly placed a light kiss against his lips. The kind of kiss that tempted him to become entangled in your sweet web regardless of duties. Piercing blues too busy consuming his prize, thinking of all the ways to corrupt his pretty petal. Not even noticing you slide a sleek silver tablet onto the desk.

“I have a gift for you, Corio.”

A glossy black screen stared back at him with a barely visible play button. Those pale digits broke from your waist to start the show before returning to their previous position. He could feel the shift of your body and took close note of how you were biting back a smile.

Suddenly a face that has haunted his dreams appeared: Lucy Gray Baird. Coriolanus could feel the bile rising in his throat at the sight of that traitor. Despite the fact she was strapped to a chair with thick masking tape covering her sickening mouth, he felt uneasy.

“What is this?”

“Freedom. Keep watching, my love.”

The tense grasp on your waist must have been aching, almost as if he was punishing you for showing him this she-devil. But it was soon alleviated as he saw your graceful figure walk into the cell of Lucy Gray. Stark white gown, as pure as snow, standing there inches away from her. Stoic guards either side of your regal stance, part of Coriolanus compared your image to the Queen being flanked by knights on his chessboard staring down a lowly pawn.

“Firstly, I'd like to say thank you, Lucy Gray. If you hadn’t betrayed the only good thing in your life, I wouldn’t have my darling husband. Truly, I appreciate it.”

This wasn’t his snowdrop. Never had he heard your voice that dominant and cold. Part of him preened at the words being spoken, yet he feared what was to come. Who had he married?

“You were very difficult to track down. See, originally, I wanted you gone because I knew he loved you, and I don’t like sharing. But then I found out that you wanted to destroy him. Drive him insane with your silly little tweety songs. And, well, no one can drive him crazy except me.”

Just as his mind caught up with the intentions of your words, a glistening of his father’s legendary pistol came into focus. Pointed between the eyes of the witch who once trapped his heart.

“Goodbye Lucy Gray. No one will remember you, and the Snow family will live forever.”

The bang of the bullet felt like an earthquake, but the image of you, his innocent little petal, with blood seeping into your porcelain dress was enough to silence all thoughts. Screen fading to black as the guards moved to remove the body.

“Did you like my gift?”

It was so small, as if you had made him a cake and were afraid that you’d added too little sugar. This was the wife he knew, and the wife he was growing to love. He always knew you were perfect; that is why he agreed to his marriage, but this was more than he could ask for.

He craved loyalty, obsession, ruthlessness, and compliance. You were everything he would ever need, wrapped in a pink bow. Finally, an equal, someone to love him the way he wished to be loved. Coriolanus would get rid of anyone you wished, and to know he has your devotion makes him feel invincible.

“It may be the best present anyone has ever given me. Let me thank you for it properly.”

Spider-like touches tingled down your spine before feeling the cool air prick your skin as Corio relieved the zip of its job, allowing your dress to pool in your lap. Three abrupt taps on the desk said everything, and within moments, you settled your bare body against the chill of the wood. There was nothing better than feeling his eyes map your body with such hunger. Swirls of lust flush through his eyes as he lightly runs his long digits over the exposed skin.

“Who knew my sweetheart could be so fierce? Those hands weren’t made for killing; they are far too pretty. And who would have expected those callous words to come from such beautiful lips? But you did it for me. Everything you do is for me.”

Standing to attention, he traced the expanse of your collarbone with featherlight touches. Eyes wide watching him in anticipation, every touch made your arousal swell. Never would you rush him; he ruled Panem and your heart. He was your purpose. He was yours. Coriolanus intoxicated you. Faint scents of leather and brandy washed over your senses; the heat of his body against your as he placed calculated kisses against your skin made you dizzy. With so little, he made you feel so much.

A gentle moan fell from your lips as the young president found his mouth on your taunt nipple, carefully flicking the tip with his talented tongue. Oh, how you wish that scandalous mouth was somewhere else right now. His appreciation was felt full force. Those large hands groped at your skin as if he were trying to consume you. Leaving a litter of marks and nips across your chest, as if he were an artist and you, his canvas.

“I would do anything for you, my dear. You gave me freedom from that whore, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to have your love. You are my only obsession. So tell me. Name it, and it is yours.”

A sense of shock washes over you; he has never once asked what you wanted in the bedroom. As with many things in his life, Coriolanus was not open to advice or direction. Images flashed of what you wanted but your tongue tangled as you went to voice it. So caught in the moment, it felt impossible to string a coherent sentence.

“I want- I want you.”

“Be specific, my snowdrop.”

He knew what you wanted. Sinking to the floor as one arm curls around the thickness of your thigh, pulling you closer to his body. That smile told you that he knew, he always knows. Coriolanus wanted to see whether your boldness extended past the video.

“Tell me, Mrs. Snow, how can I please you? You have pleased me so, and I want to show my appreciation, so tell me. Now.”

The feeling of his breath against the wet patch growing on your panties sent a shiver down your spine, feeding the need for his mouth on you. You needed him carnally. Hands wrapped in those icy locks, pale fingers curling inside, and him acting as if he were a man starved.

“I need your mouth- your fingers. Please Corio. Thank me with your mouth. Worship my pussy with those fingers, please, my love.”

Fingers hooking the corners of your underwear, gently discarding the elegant lace. Stormy blues and a haunting smirk told you that he'd be thanking you for hours to come.

“As you wish, my love. I am yours to use, as you are mine.”

A King is only as good as his Queen.

[aft3rhrs]

— pastel pink ღ

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!father au

warnings: dead dove, yandere, pseudo incest, cheating, age gap (the reader is always 18+!), corruption, porn, cnc themes, mentions of masturbation, choking, dub con, fingering, daddy kink, rough sex, humiliation, praise, dirty talk, allusions to sadism & masochism, multiple orgasms, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut), creampie, aftercare

*use of the words “rape”, “abuse”.

masterlist

Namjoon used to think that you didn't quite understand the consequences of playing with fire. It was not surprising, after all, considering your young age. You were but an inexperienced cub compared to the wolf that raised you, not yet having grasped the unbridled nature of all things wild.

Sooner or later, though, inching too close to the flames was bound to get you burned. Somewhere in the darkest depths of his heart, Namjoon craved to inflict the pain of the heat on you, mark his territory with a swirl of scars.

Wasn't every father's daughter his most precious gift? Pretty like a doll, with a heart that had flowers and thorns tangling through it. A bricked, bleeding house that welcomed no intruders. He wanted nothing more than to keep it safe.

It was those protective instincts that had always kept him in check, tamed, in constant agony over something he could never have.

Until tonight.

Until it turned out your doe eyes and the pastel pink of your bedroom were misleading lies; and you yearned for the burn of the fire, simply too afraid to dive into its scorching depths.

And what was his duty if not to help you experience life, fulfill all your soul's desires? With immense love and a guiding, fatherly hand, now stuck in between your soft thighs.

"Is this what you like?"

The hoarse whisper made you clench. You whimpered in response, your eyes growing warm.

"No."

You knew it was pointless to lie; he could feel you soaking his fingers, pulsing around their thick girth. But it was too much handle, and the filthy video playing on the screen made you want to shrink.

"Yeah," Namjoon coaxed, breathing into your ear. "You like watching old men fuck their daughters? Like watching them abuse their good little girls?"

Relentless, he pumped the digits in and out of your poor cunt, and the tears overflowed, a dangerous combination of the shame and the orgasm rippling through you. From deep inside your tummy, all the way through your spine, prompting your thighs to tremble on top of his.

What a stupid mistake; to lie down and let your eyes flutter closed right after coming. You weren't even sure when you drifted off, your laptop barely shut, still resting by your side. Namjoon came into your bedroom to check on you, tuck you in and turn off the light, as he'd done a hundred of times before.

The website on the screen caught his eye.

Dreams were safe; reality was different. No one was ever supposed to see this side of you. Especially not the man whose name was stamped all over the walls of the private, forbidden rooms that took up the space in your head. Not the man you looked up to, respectable and smart, all warmth and dimpled smiles, with such deep, kind eyes behind his pristine glasses.

Not Namjoon.

"Fuck," he cursed softly, one arm curled around your waist, grounding you. "That's it..."

Hips stilling, you attempted to catch your breath. Dizziness washed over you. You've never felt this good before; and perhaps a part of the reason why was that you were doing something very bad. The thought of your mother coming home still lingered at the back of your mind — no longer an imminent threat, the bullet dissolving in the haze of the bliss, though its existing chill persisted.

This would be quite a sight for the poor woman to witness; her husband's fingers buried deep in her only daughter's cunt, legs spread wide open on his lap. The lewd porn playing on your laptop only served as the final nail in the coffin.

You winced as Namjoon slipped out of you gently, disoriented. Your legs felt like jelly, but his hold on you was secure, your only safety net.

He stood up, lifting you with him. He didn't try to lead you back to your bed, instead placing a large palm on the small of your back and pushing forward.

You let your cheek rest on the cold surface of the desk, trying to ignore the dirty sounds of sex coming from the screen. Maybe it was the emotions muddling your brain, but you couldn't move, helpless as an animal with their leg caught in a trap.

In spite of the carelessness on your part, you've never imagined Namjoon reacting this way. You'd thought he would have been disgusted, concerned — embarrassed at the very least — and the topic would never be brought up.

Yet here he was, unzipping his pants, about to fuck you on the same desk you occupied to complete your homework every night. In the same room that used to be adorned in plushies and fairy lights, saturated with all of your innocence.

It was different than any taboo feeling or thought you might have entertained in secret; the forbidden fruit no longer a fantasy, but a sin weighing down on the palm of your hand, ripe for the tasting. Its only price was being cast out.

Namjoon caressed your ass, the foreign sensation causing more slick to dribble down the apex of your thighs.

"Such a good slut," he breathed.

The word whipped through you, leaving your skin stinging and lungs emptied of air. He hasn't addressed you with anything but respect before; in fact, you didn't think you've ever heard him use such vulgar language.

You clenched, as though the degradation chipped away at your brain, dumbed it down to a blissful void.

"No," you whined out in protest; of what, you weren't sure anymore.

You felt his hand lock around your wrists.

"Yeah, you are," he cooed. "You're my little toy, and toys get played with. I may be too old for that..." he slid your underwear down your thighs, "but you're not, are you, baby?"

A shiver ran through you, arousal mingling with a tinge of fear the moment he leaned over you, his chest resting firm against your back.

"Don't you want daddy to play with you?" He whispered, flooding your nape with goosebumps. "Seems to me that you do."

This wasn't the Namjoon you've grown to know; this was something different, sinful and ravenous. The rattle of the cage was nothing compared to it being set loose, claiming ownership over you, corrupting and consuming.

But you were wetter than ever, slick flowing like honey and coating the heated, swollen tip of his cock as soon as it pressed against you.

Namjoon was faring no better; his collar open and tie loosened, shirt wrinkled with the memory of your fingers grasping at it. All of his self restraint was gone, the cracked lock broken and the dented cage empty.

You did that.

He had a wife, a job, a good reputation. He worked hard to achieve success, however, the path laid out before him has always looked rather bleak without you in the picture.

And any doubts that troubled him in the past went up in the flames the moment he peeked at your laptop. Of course it was him you longed for, his cock you needed in your little pussy. You were daddy's perfect little girl, all too aware of your purpose. To be ruined and loved and owned by him.

His hand encased your neck, a grip that instantly made your head tingle. He pulled you up, letting you sink into his chest. His breath tickled your ear, and the girthy cockhead pushed against your slit once more, leaking.

"Why are you shaking, baby?" he inquired, sliding his free hand up your stomach. Palm wide open, only to close around your breast and squeeze. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

No. Yes? No. It was so wrong. You shook your head, like that would change anything; turn back time, conceal the truth, get you out of trouble.

Namjoon chuckled.

"It is," he husked, plush lips brushing against the shell of your ear. He moved his hips, rubbing himself against your nub teasingly. "You wanted daddy's cock, just like all these dirty girls on screen."

He eased his hold on your throat, but his hand remained around it; a reminder that he was in control.

Your head was swimming as more oxygen rushed in, but it made almost no difference. His words, his touch, they had a hold on you too, squeezing your lungs, making your clit throb beneath his touch.

"Wanted to be mine..." his tone mellowed out to silk, seductive and light. "Wanted to be my pretty, little angel, and take it behind mummy's back, hm?"

Eyes teary and barely open, you gasped.

"Even better if I just make you take it, right? You won't have to feel so guilty, and you can still slobber and cream all over it."

Your knees were close to giving out, wetness gushing obscenely onto his thick length. As if he could sense it, Namjoon tightened his arm around you, lifting a hand to wipe away the tears that fell.

"Oh sweetheart," he shushed, "see? Daddy knows what you need. Your eyes are wet, but your pussy is wetter. Bet it's tight, too. Tighter than your mother's."

He palmed his cock, at last positioning it back at your small entrance.

"Not that I ever wanted hers anyway."

It seemed your soul left your body the moment he sank in, and he swallowed all of it with his kiss. Any remnants of your thoughts, integrity or coherence; all swiped away with the lick of his tongue and the delicious stretch that left your cunt clenching and insides churning.

The noise he let out sent a thrill through you. He broke the kiss, broke you, his gleaming eyes hooded and adoring, staring deep into yours. Time seemed to fizzle out of existence.

Then he thrusted.

"Fucking whore."

A croaky whisper, followed by a moan you barely recognized as your own.

"I tried to stay away, but my baby just had to be a fucking whore. Couldn't help wanting daddy to rape her."

You shuddered, breath caught in your throat and hand clutching his bicep.

There was no going back, and at this point, it didn't matter. At this point, exposed and full of him, you ached for more; and like a good dad, Namjoon was there to cater to your needs.

He pulled out, only to slide back inside the velvety heat, pleasure bursting and simmering through. No more teasing; just shivers, and long, deep strokes that made his balls slap against your skin.

His breath fanned your neck, unsteady, edged with soft groans. He barely fit inside you, but your pussy took him so well, as though it was always meant to be his.

The way he fucked you drowned out whatever porn was still playing on your laptop, long forgotten, nothing compared to the depravity happening right in front of it. He pounded into you harder, keeping a steady pace. The desk began to thud, repeatedly hitting the wall behind it.

"Like that?" He mumbled into your cheek, his thumb lazily rubbing your stiff nipple. "Right there?"

He required no verbal answer. Not when you were so soft and pliant in his arms, the rush taking over. Still, he enjoyed the way you squirmed at the questions, eyes closed and luscious lips wide open, making the most heavenly little sounds.

He wasn't going to last; there was no time to waste, besides, the simple fact that your warm, wet hole was taking his cock — raw — was enough to push him close to the edge.

Desperate, he took a hold of your jaw and turned your face towards him. His lips were an inch away from yours, the intimacy of it tender and aching, like a bruise.

"Say, 'thank you, daddy,'" he murmured. '"Thank you for fucking my tight, little cunt.'"

You responded with a mewl, your muscles tensing along with the knot in your tummy.

"Gonna—"

Namjoon groaned. Too out of breath to finish the sentence, too fucked out, you let yourself go limp as he pummeled into you.

"Come?" He suggested, wanting to laugh at how quickly you nodded, but your walls were getting so tight only a moan came out. "Fuck. Good girl, making daddy so proud." His forehead touched yours, as if he could get any closer. "You deserve a reward."

The moment you clamped down on him, he muffled the cry that broke through with his lips, crashing them into yours. He kissed you hungrily, tongue and teeth, reaching the peak of his limit as your cunt quivered, effortlessly massaging his cock with the convulsions. He couldn't resist its pull sucking him in, trapping him in place to do what it was made for.

He groaned loudly, letting his seed spill as deep as it would go, letting you see stars right there on the ceiling; like the glowing stickers he used to put up there for you, just an old father and daughter tradition. Your eyes rolled back, and it had him gritting his teeth, grinding into you until you couldn't stand, and his own legs barely kept him up anymore.

He panted softly, gulping as you melted into him, both of his arms hugging your waist. Slowly, the heat was receding, and in its stead serenity crept in.

It was quiet when he washed you up, his hands gentle, wiping the mess in between your thighs and the sweat off your brow. Dressed in a clean shirt and underwear, you climbed under your blanket. Beyond sleepy and sated, your heart still felt heavy.

The edge of the mattress dipped as Namjoon sat down beside you, extending his arm to cup your cheek. Only then did he meet your eyes.

"I love you."

He's said it to you before, but it felt different now. It was different. And it made him hesitate, reduced his voice to a whisper.

"You're the best thing... that's ever happened to me. That's never gonna change. You know that, right?"

You nodded, wondering how in such a messed up situation a few words could feel so comforting. Perhaps it was because they were coming from him. Would that always be enough? Will it feel the same when you wake up in the morning?

Namjoon bent down to press a lingering kiss onto your temple, coaxing your eyes to shut.

"Don't worry about anything, okay? Just trust me, baby. And get some rest."

You relaxed, acknowledging the request with a small sigh. He watched you fall asleep, stroking your hair, trying not to dwell on how much he wished he could stay. At least he'd be able to get into bed before his wife came home.

In the darkness of his bedroom, he settled into the cool sheets, his glasses set aside and clothes neatly folded. He heard the front door unlock, the keys jiggling, and closed his eyes.

Time to sleep.

Time for a change of plans was awaiting him tomorrow.

taglist 💌: @baalsgurl1913 @httpsbts @hoseokshobagi @pynkgothicka @art-3-miss @sweetempathprunetree @blueberryarchive @messyjk @themochiverse @minyoongiboongi @chimmisbae @crisle19 @bangtans-momma @get-that-brain-working @babycandy111 @mother2monsters @whipwhoops @svnbangtansworld @ane102 @stellalovesstarss @jksteponme @httpjeonlicious @iceprincessviviane

[shomatoriashi]

11/03/24; 06:20pm

sylus x fem.reader

love and deepspace - spy au | canon divergent | inspired by the kingsman movie series

warnings: unedited; 18+ content; potentially ooc; alcohol use; death of a family member; angst to fluff / smut; sylus is referred to skye in this story / au.

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

alternate title: the spy who loved me.

sylus qin-

a name that was synonymous with fear among the underground world.

much of his background was left a mystery, but that didn't stop people from trying to fill in the missing details with their own rumors-

like how he wasn't human due to the destructive evol he carried; that he had struck a deal with the devil himself to obtain such an ability.

or how his movements were as quick and silent as that of shadows, and that sylus had millions of eyes around the world due to his connection to the crows-

yet there was one fact that remained true regardless of what the rumors said, and it was how that man was a vital part of onychinus, a hidden sect made up of skilled assassins and spies that only a select few of people even knew about-

which included your father, the current head of your family's mafia.

he paces around his office, trailing his eyes over his mahogany desk before landing on a picture of you, his sole daughter. his gaze was solemn when he picks up the picture frame, carefully tracing at your smiling features as you were being held within your mother's embrace.

you had turned 24, celebrating your birthday with your mother as you wore the bracelet she had given you that day as a gift. looking at this picture causes the man's heart to clench almost painfully within his chest.

his wife was still so vibrant; how could he have possibly known that her life would end just a mere few weeks later? a bullet had pierced through her heart, his men unable to shield her when a rival faction had targeted her. and upon realizing that your mother had died-

you had changed drastically.

no longer were you the starry-eyed girl who clung to her parents, basking in their unconditional love for you. now, you became someone that had little regard for her own life-

you drank copious amounts of alcohol, going out to bars every single night with every intention to get blacked out drunk. the pain of losing your mother took its toll on you, and truly, your father understood where this behavior was coming from. the loss of your mother was enough to push you over the edge.

despite his best efforts of trying to soothe your broken soul through various means (buying you a new car, filling your room with all of the things you loved)-

it didn't work.

and if he couldn't stop you soon, then he would lose you, too.

he no longer trusted his men to truly keep you safe during this dire time in your life-

which was why he resorted to hiring the devil himself to be your shield.

{ ... }

when sylus was told he had a new client by luke and kieran, he was barely interested and simply waved off their excitement.

however, once the twins showed him the down payment the man, mr. zero, had given him-

he was all too willing to meet with the man to see what his next job would be like. using one of the many bars he had owned as a meeting spot, sylus had sent his client a text detailing the time and place with a thinly veiled warning of what would happen if he was ever late.

adjusting his suit, sylus brushes back his hair while entering the club, crimson eyes scanning the area before heading towards one of the private rooms. the bouncer greets him before opening the door, revealing a middle aged man seated in front of him.

the door was heard shutting from behind him, and sylus takes a brief moment to finally assess zero's features. as the onychinus leader stared at him, he noticed how the man appeared much older than he probably was. a weary expression was seen on his face, and even when he was smiling at him, it was filled with a bitterness.

"i hope that my payment was enough to get your attention, mr. qin." sylus hums, going towards the bar to pour him and mr. zero a shot of whiskey. "you could say that... after all, there's not many people who would give me a down payment of 50 million."

after pouring the drinks, sylus hands zero a glass before sitting across from him. he takes casual sips of the amber liquid, allowing the smoky flavor to burn down his throat as he waited for the older man to speak. zero runs a hand across his hair, tilting the glass up to his lips as he downed the shot of whiskey within seconds. as he slams down the glass, zero pulls out a photograph before sliding it across the table.

setting his drink to the side, sylus takes a moment to admire the picture, seeing a young woman smiling with what he assumed was her mother.

"that's my daughter and her mother... my wife- she was killed a year ago, and i have never been able to forgive myself for being unable to protect my wife." sylus frowns at the image, detecting the way zero's voice broke down. "my daughter still grieves the loss of her mother, and i'm afraid that she'll go down a path that not even i can save her from."

"please, i beg of you, mr. qin. i need you to protect my daughter by whatever means is necessary. if you do this for me, with each month that she remains safe- at least until i can finally bring my wife's murderer to justice, i swear to you, i'll give you 10 million."

sylus's eyes darken with amusement, tilting up his own glass of whiskey as he downs the shot in one gulp. letting out a satisfied sigh, sylus sits back against the couch while spinning the glass around his pointer finger, "10 million per month... and if my services were to last an entire year-"

"money is not an issue when it comes to protecting the ones that i love." zero's gaze was filled with a determination, making sylus break out into an almost shit-eating grin.

perhaps the best clients were the doting fathers who would give anything for their daughters.

{ ... }

your dad had put you on lockdown again.

but were you going to let that stop you?

hell no.

surrounding the borders of your room were dozens of men that worked for your father. not only had they put an external lock on your bedroom door, but a tracker on your phone as well.

deep down, you knew the true reasoning as to why your father kept you in such a luxurious cage-

but you refused to acknowledge it.

feeling your heart begin to clench with pain, you look away from your door and allowed your gaze to land on the shimmering gold settled on your right wrist. as you take in the various charms and the way the gemstones glittered below your bedroom light, a memory of a loving smile was brought to the forefront of your mind-

a loving smile you would never see again.

panic was felt rising against your throat, the raw pain of it all threatening to spill out of you as bitter and harsh as bile. your heart continues to pound, filling you with a desperation as you quickly headed toward your window.

fueled by your own grief, you push open the window and breathe in the cold air, allowing the rush of adrenaline to course through you. your eyes look at the distance between the edge of your window and the ground below. knowing that this was the only way for you to get out of your stifling prison, you began to climb out of your window sill, trying to hang on to the best of your abilities as you decided when the best time to jump was.

as you focused your attention on the pristine grass that was settled below you, the sounds of a motorcycle passing by makes your heart jump within the confines of your throat. your eyes become quickly blinded by the searing light, making you lose your grip on the windowsill.

your body make its quick descent to the ground, and you clenched your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the painful impact-

yet the impact never comes, with your ears managing to pick up the sounds of something shift within the air. your eyes become wide, seeing a tall man with silver hair appear in front of you as he captures you in his arms.

time seemed to stand still, with the perfect stranger shielding you as he landed on the ground with an audible grunt. he ends up taking the brunt of the fall while keeping you safely tucked away with his embrace. blood was felt rushing to your ears, making you feel dizzy as you steadied yourself by placing the palm of your hand against his chest.

you found yourself straddling this man's waist, lips parted as you drank in the sight of him. never before had you seen such a pure, masculine beauty quite like him, with full lips and ruby red eyes that could make your heart melt-

and judging from the sheer girth of his arms wrapped around you, the strength of his body was evident to you as well.

he smirks at you, and you wince when he places the pad of his thumb against your lips, "what's this? has a princess just escaped from her castle?"

your mouth goes dry upon hearing his voice, and had you been given more time, you would have basked in his voice-

however, sudden cries of your name was what succeeds in breaking you out of your reveries. with a gasp, you cling to this hot stranger and look at him with pleading eyes.

"please, you've got to get me away from here, i beg of you."

he shoots up an eyebrow at you, but thankfully does not ask questions. taking you in his arms, he takes quick strides toward the single motorbike settled on the street. you take in the sight of the sleek vehicle, eyebrows furrowed when you saw two helmets settle on the seat.

but you were given little time to think about it, feeling your bare feet land against the concrete as he relinquishes his hold on you. tossing you the other helmet, he gestures at you to get behind him, "if it's a getaway you want, it's a getaway you're going to get, sweetie."

calls of your name were getting louder now, which prompted you to get on the back of his bike while donning the helmet. as he revved up his bike, you made sure to flash your middle finger at your father's men all while clinging to the front of your savior's chest.

{ ... }

sylus wasn't expecting you to be so damn alluring up close. as he felt the way your body was pressed against his back, a strange warm begins to surround him, the sensation being enough to make his heart begin to race steadily from within his chest. when sylus made his escape from your home, the change in your demeanor was immediate.

the sounds of your melodious laughter echoes from behind him, and he sees the way your hair whips from behind you. reaching a stoplight, he brakes in time, balancing his bike while taking a moment to look back at you-

which ends up being the biggest mistake he could make.

he feels the way your head rests against his broad back, noticing the almost wistful expression in your eyes. ignoring the way his heart began to pound, sylus focuses on the traffic light. deciding to hide his emotions behind a snarky remark, he begins to speak, "it's not normal for spoiled princesses like you to get on a bike with a stranger."

sylus swore he could hear your pout, "i'm not a princess... i'm just... i just want to forget."

he hears the way your voice breaks and frowns, ready to say something, but stops when the light turns green. shaking his head, sylus chooses to forget about your pain, recalling the reason why he was put in this situation to begin with.

strengthening his resolve, sylus picks up speed and weaves expertly across the city, the sound of your laughter no longer echoing from behind him.

{ ... }

your savior ends up taking you to the top floor of a high-rise apartment. carrying the two helmets within his hand, you watch as he extracts a sleek black key card from his pocket, opening the door for you to step in first.

"after you, princess."

"i have a name." you fold your arms across your chest, telling the man the syllables that make up your name. amusement was heard in his voice, and you forced yourself to remain calm when his rich voice repeated your name.

"i like that name, it suits a feisty woman like you. as for me, you may call me skye."

as you step into his apartment, you take in the the luxurious furniture, recognizing the brands while your hands traced at the onyx figurines of crows settled on the table. you look back at the man and scoff, "skye? i'm sorry, but that name does not suit you at all."

you look away from him, becoming interested in the cabinet that was filled with expensive bottles of liquor, completely missing the offended look on skye's face. you step closer to the cabinet, pulling the glass door open before gripping at a bottle of cognac.

before you could twist the cap open, sylus stops you by placing a hand around your wrist. a stern expression was settled on his face, "and what do you think you're doing?"

"i'm trying to forget." a flash of emotion was seen in his gaze, yet just as it appears, it was gone within mere seconds. even when you attempted to remove your hand from his grip, skye doesn't relent, managing to take the bottle of cognac away from you.

"whatever you're trying to forget, i'm sure using liquor isn't the answer."

skye places the bottle back into the cabinet, slamming it shut before taking your hand. as he grips at your wrist, you caught sight of your bracelet shimmering against your skin-

making your throat close up in response.

caught up in your painful reveries, you were dimly aware of how skye places you on a seat, settling you in front of a dining table. your eyes never once looked away from the bracelet your mother had given you-

the last gift you would ever receive from her.

you think back to your last day with her-

and the need to reach out and get a bottle to help with drowning your emotions quickly resurfaces, with you ready to bolt towards the cabinet when the sound of glass being slammed in front of you snaps you out of it.

skye was settled in front of you, a frown painting his devastating features when he slides the glass of ice water toward you. "drink this instead, you need it."

unable to find it in yourself to go against him, you take the glass and place it to your lips, draining it within a few gulps. skye watches you intently, noticing the few droplets that fell from your mouth before descending toward your throat, making his eyes darken in response to the sight.

letting out a weary sigh, you place the glass back down on the table, not meeting skye's gaze. listening as he gently inhaled, skye tentatively asks you, "this is none of my business, but i need to know... just what are you trying so hard to forget?"

you don't answer him for several seconds, clenching your eyes shut as you allowed your hands to form into fists against the table. no matter how much time had passed, this was something you would never get over-

"i lost my mom... she was killed..."

you keep your eyes shut, just basking in your memories as you told skye everything. it was strange, but something about skye made you want to open up to him-

that even though you knew it was crazy to feel such a thing for a man you

"to keep it simple, my father... he's a... he's a really powerful man. he comes from a long line- from old money, essentially. when he was younger, he fell in love with my mom, who happened to be a normal civilian."

you take a moment to gather your emotions, taking in a deep breath as your hands began to tremble. just when you felt like you were close to losing it, skye places a hand over yours, engulfing it in a warmth that soothed your anxieties.

opening your eyes, you gasp upon seeing how close skye was to you. his rufescent eyes appeared... softer, somehow. you felt the way his hands gently frame at your face as the pad of his thumb traced at your bottom lip.

"and you were born out of love." skye's voice was solemn, with his expression void of its playfulness. yet his words succeeds in making your throat clench even further in response. you were left dumbfounded, watching as sylus slowly inched closer to you, with his lips a mere few inches away from your own-

why did it feel like he knew?

his breath warms at your lips, and just as you were about to close your eyes to meet with him-

a sudden knock at the door makes you jump away from him.

skye clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he stands from his seat to answer the door. you were about to ask who it was, but stopped when you smelled the familiar scent of your favorite takeout. with the bag in hand, skye returns to you, placing the food in front of you. as you looked at all the containers, you said out loud, "all of these are my favorites..."

you catch the momentary stiffness in skye's composure before he visibly relaxes. "sweetie, you are mistaken, since such a meal can be anyone's favorite."

the strangeness of it all was starting to get to you-

but when skye opens up a container and offers it to you, you allow the lingering scent to wrap around you, awakening in you a hunger that you hadn't felt in a long time. taking a hold of your utensils, you began to dig into your favorite food-

with the lingering doubts still settled at the back of your mind.

{ ... }

being around you proved to be a much more challenging feat than sylus could have ever anticipated.

before he got to know you, sylus had every intention of whisking you away after your failed escaping attempt, keeping you within his penthouse for 12 months with the goal of collecting the 120 million from your father-

but now that he was forced to be in your presence-

forced to see the vulnerability in your eyes along with the pain that came from missing your mother-

he felt something change.

why did it suddenly feel like the money didn't matter to him anymore?

why did the sight of your smile cause his heart to do somersaults within his chest?

why did it feel like his mission was to truly protect you without any conditions?

sylus quickly erases those thoughts from his mind the moment his phone rings. looking down at the screen, he notices the caller's name and visibly stiffens.

it was your father, the man who chose his alias to be zero.

was it already time for his monthly report?

closing his eyes, he answers the call while ignoring the feeling of guilt that threatens to take root inside of him.

{ ... }

your relationship with skye was... odd, to say the least.

despite how serendipitous your meeting with him felt (like he was in the right place at the right time the night of your desperate escape), you couldn't deny that a part of you felt safe with him.

perhaps the loss of your mother made you lose a bit of your rationality. losing her felt like you were left with a gaping hole deep inside of your chest-

a hole that you wanted to be filled by skye.

it was maddening, trying to sift through your emotions when it came to skye. you had been staying with him for close to 6 months now, yet the way he payed so much attention to you (seeming to care for you while buying the things you needed, never once complaining about your presence) coupled along with his lingering kindness-

it was enough for him to weasel his way into your heart-

yet at the same time, you knew that he was acting suspicious. there was something that skye was hiding from you, which did nothing but further complicate the feelings you had for him.

despite how strange everything felt, one fact remained undeniable-

and it was the fact that his presence was enough to pacify the shattering pain of your mother's death, with you practically clinging to him as the days went by. with his snarky and haughty attitude, you felt incredibly safe when he was close to you-

even now, you found yourself yearning for his presence, even though he was settled a mere few feet away from you. your hands itched with the need to grab on to his hand and ruffle his hair each time he teased you-

so caught up in your thoughts, you end up unconsciously walking toward his room, noticing how it remained slightly open. his deep voice was heard speaking in hushed tones into his cellphone, and as you neared the room, you heard a familiar sound coming from skye's phone-

"i don't want the money anymore, i'll send every last penny back, just please-" skye harshly speaks into his phone, making your heart turn to ice when you recognized the booming voice on the other line-

it was the sound of your father's voice.

"how do you know my father?" skye immediately faces you, dropping his phone in the progress. the man visibly pales, swallowing thickly as he shakily called out your name.

"i-it's not what you think, please believe me, it's not what you think it is-"

"you...you lied to me? you had b-been working for my father this whole time?" angry tears cascades down your face, and when skye visibly winces, looking away from you while letting out a string of curses-

that was all the evidence that you needed.

you turn away from him, running out of his room as the tears marred your vision. reaching the front door, you pull it open with a brute force that nearly rips it from its hinges. knowing that he would catch you if you tried to use the elevators, you hurriedly take the stairs, making your desperate descent while choking back your sobs.

everything made sense now-

like how strange it was that skye had another helmet for you-

or how he knew your favorite takeout-

and the way he seemed to read your mind these past couple of months-

it was all because of your father.

everything had been meticulously planned by him-

and you were stupid enough to fall for it.

gasping for air, you manage to escape out of the apartment building, the tears streaming even faster down your cheek as you staggered into the street, breaking out into a run while praying that skye wouldn't find you.

your mind was in a deep haze, exhaustion tingeing your every step when a low whistle was heard.

"i knew you'd run out of onychinus's cage eventually."

your movements ceased when you felt the barrel of the gun become pressed against your head, an icy sensation now felt coursing through your veins. your throat turns dry, and you caught sight of a tattooed man sneering at you, cocking his gun once more before pressing it against your temple.

"you're comin' with me, princess." he smirks at you, continuing to press the gun even closer to your head, "as much as i'd like to shoot your pretty little brains out like i did with your mama, i'm sure your daddy's willing to pay a hefty price just to have you back. once i get the money, then i'll kill him before claiming victory-" he was suddenly cut off when a crow manages to slam the gun out of his hands, its beady eyes never once straying from the man as it let out a harsh caw!

"what the fuck-"

the man was unable to finish his sentence when darkness surrounds the entirety of his body, wrapping around his form like deadly tendrils-

"close your eyes, princess."

recognizing skye's voice, you immediately turn away from him and clench your eyes shut, hearing a piercing scream before the wet sounds of something imploding in on itself echoes throughout the area. you fell down to your knees, only to be caught by a powerful pair of arms.

you were openly sobbing now, clinging to the front of his shirt, "s-skye... w-what...why-"

skye cuts you off, swallowing your words with a searing kiss when he crashes his lips against yours. you moan at the sudden sensation, tightening your grip on him as he pulls you into his broad chest, shielding you from the gruesome sight that was settled a mere few inches away from you.

"not here," he purposely crushes your face within his chest, blocking your vision when he picks you up. your tears were still falling, yet you felt the strange sensation of your body being pulled, with the air seeming to crackle with static in response for a brief moment-

before landing back within the quiet safety of skye's living room.

with your face still hidden within his chest, you felt the way skye began to tremble, pulling away from you. he shakily frames at your face, using the pad of his thumb to trace at your bottom lip before telling you, "fuck, i thought i lost you-"

as if remembering the moment, skye takes you back into his arms, pressing another kiss against your lips, filled with an even greater desperation than the last one.

not daring to break apart his connection to you, he takes you to his bedroom, kicking down the door before falling into his bed with him. your hands grip at the silken sheets, letting out a moan when skye dips a hand into the waistband of your pants.

"it may have started out as a lie, but my feelings for you are true." you feel the way he dips a finger into your folds, collecting your arousal as you tossed your head back in response. his breathing becomes labored when he inserts his middle fingers inside of you, thrusting the single digit in and out of your core before huskily admitting to you, "my true name... is sylus qin... and your father hired me to protect you."

a part of you felt angry and annoyed, but feeling the way skye sylus was moving his thick finger in and out of your slick heat was making your mind go hazy. instead of using your words, you allow your nails to grip at his biceps before raking down his skin, earning a hiss from him.

"fuck, kitten, that hurt- but how about you punish me more and give my back those same claw marks?"

you hated how the sight of his smirk was enough to make your legs clench in response for him, feeling sylus remove his finger from your slick heat momentarily, now gripping at the waistband of his pants as unbuckled himself-

his crimson gaze was eclipsed by complete darkness now, his desire and need for you evident in the way he tore off his clothes, ensuring that he was utterly bare for you. your traitorous heart ends up racing in response to his nakedness, and you felt a powerful ache settle between your legs at the sight of sylus's godly form. recognizing the lust in your eyes causes him to smirk as he places his large hands against your clothes, now working on tearing off your own clothes until you were utterly bare for him.

hungry eyes raked through your form, and you watch as sylus licked his lips before laying back down against the bed. he spreads your legs wide open for him, giving your inner thighs a kiss before whispering against your skin, "let me show you the true depths of my devotion to you... let me make it up to you."

"sylus-"

you had only said his true name out loud, but it was enough to make sylus surge forward, burying his face within your slick walls. the sensation of his tongue drinking up the evidence of your honeyed arousal makes you fall back in bed, hands gripping at his soft hair. instinctively, you spread your legs wider for him, allowing sylus to take you to heaven when he kept devouring you like he was a man starved.

never had you felt such potent sensations of pleasure before, with sylus expertly eliciting moans and gasps of his name, allowing it to fall from your parted lips like a never-ending mantra. as he continued his ministrations on you, the more you felt a coil seem to tighten within your abdomen. "o-oh my god, s-sylus!"

you gasp when your back arches against the bed, with sylus keeping your hips still as you spilled yourself into his hot mouth. with a grunt of your name, sylus drinks in everything you had to offer. red hot pleasure courses through you, making you cry out to him as you tightened your grip against his hair.

"ngh... fuck... you taste s'fucking sweet." sylus manages to release his hair from your hands, crawling toward you as he spread your legs wide for him to settle between. drunk off of the sheer taste of you, sylus presses his lips against yours, purposely deepening the kiss, allowing you to taste yourself with his kiss alone.

distracting you with his kiss, you managed to remain relaxed for him when sylus suddenly pushes his cock into your entrance, the sudden intrusion making you toss your head back as you cling to sylus. a string of curses was heard coming from the man settled above you. when you felt your walls taking in every inch you had to offer (completely sheathing him), you lost all train of thought, allowing the man to piston his hips in and out of you.

"fuck...!" sylus grips at your hips, keeping it still as he begins to thrust his cock in and out of your slick walls at a breakneck pace. the squelching sounds of your lovemaking echo throughout the room, making you cry out to him when you felt the moisture flowing out of you.

"o-oh...!" you gasp, wrapping your legs around sylus's naked waist, allowing him to reach deeper inside of you with each pound. by now, he was quite literally fucking you into his bed-

and you found yourself enjoying every minute of it.

from the way sylus seemed to harshly grip at your waist, you were certain that it would leave a bruise-

yet you didn't care, allowing this powerful man to bring you towards another release while you sloppily met his thrusts with your own-

the telltale sensation of his cock growing inside of you as he tightens, stilling his hips one last time before spilling thick ropes of his cum deep within you succeeds in making you cry out to him, your voice seeming to echo throughout the room along with sylus's growl of your name.

unable to help himself, sylus captures your lips once more, purposely swallowing your moans as he rode out both of your releases, his hips weakly pounding in and out of you, making sure that you had milked every last drop out of him before landing next to you on the bed.

your body was damp with sweat as a pleasant haze goes through you. not wishing to break your connection with sylus, you tentatively move closer to him, resting your head against his chest before pressing a kiss against it.

"y-you... did you want me... to forget that i'm mad at you by fucking my brains out?" you weakly manage to tease him, earning a rich chuckle from him.

"depends... is it working?" he leans down to press a kiss against your hair, making you smile when you cheekily tell him,

"how about you find out... when we go a few more rounds...?"

sylus needed no further urging from you, returning back to you as he placed a desperate kiss against your lips...

[ epilogue ]

your father was pacing around his office, filled with anxiety at being caught.

he prayed that you would forgive him-

that he could see you again, happy and whole despite your own pain.

truly, your father wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms, to bring you back home all while telling you that he did this all in the name of love-

that losing your mother made him go crazy at the thought of losing you, too-

but a part of him still felt too guilty to do anything.

as he was caught up in his thoughts, the sound of a notification coming from his phone startles him, making him look down at his phone to see a message from sylus himself.

eager to know what it says, he opens up the text and reads through it, eyes filled with relief as the older man breaks out into a grin. in the text was what looked like a screenshot of a bank account wiring back 110 million dollars along with a single text:

i finally understand. she's worth all the money. with this payment, i promise to protect her for the rest of my life - s.q.

end notes: omg i can't believe i'm gonna lose sleep over this story, but lmaoo, it's my dream story, and i need to finish writing this. spy!sylus, how i need you so 😭🙌🏻 this is currently unedited, but i'll make any changes tomorrow, it's bedtime for me!! also, for the reader's dad using an alias to contact sy, i wanted to do something so you readers could use any name that suits you outside of the alias! making it a true insert hhhhhhhh 🥹 this was a tough story to write though, but i hope you readers enjoyed it all the same!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[ghostfacd]

I FEEL YOUR COMPLIMENTS LIKE BULLETS ON SKIN. | JACK HUGHES

au masterlist

Jack had always made sure to compliment how good you were at being a mother. How great you were with the kids, how gracefully you handled each problem when it arose. That was just who Jack Hughes was. He was a charmer, always having a way with his words.

You never hated Jack Hughes more than you had at this moment. Your second and youngest baby, Daisy Hughes, was currently celebrating away her first birthday, her chubby hands clapping together excitedly, not aware that her mother, you, was going through an emotional turmoil.

Your first baby, however, was extremely smart for his age. So caring and thoughtful.

“You ‘kay mama?” He wasn’t able to speak proper sentences yet, only being 2, but he had the idea down.

“I’m okay bubba, thank you for asking.” You picked him up, giving him a kiss on the cheek to which he returned one to yours, sloppy but so full of love that it reminded you of Jack.

In fact, Olivier reminded you so much of Jack. He was practically your husband’s carbon copy, your genes having not put up a single fight.

“Daisy fussin’ mama,” Olivier presses his small hands against your cheek, making you turn to look at his baby sister.

“She’s probably just hungry,” you reassure him, placing him down gently before opening the fridge to get milk. “Aren’t you Daisy bear?”

Your baby talk makes your daughter babble something happily back, smiling ear to ear. She was adorable, your mini copy.

An hour later, most of your family members, including Jack’s parents and Quinn had came over to the house, all holding mini gift bags that said Happy Birthday!

Olivier had practically ran over Ellen, who smothered the boy in kisses before doing the same to Daisy who was currently sitting in her high chair.

“Oh my! She’s grown so big,” Ellen says admiringly, “she looks so much like you Rory.”

“Thank you mama,” you say, holding onto Ellen’s hand for a while before taking out the cake you had bought yesterday from the fridge. It was mini sized, perfect for Daisy who’s eyes lit up at the sight of it.

“Jack’s busy tonight?” Quinn whispers after your baby is done blowing out her cake.

“Yeah, him and Luke are away.” You try to hide your disappointment, but Quinn can clearly see it. He knows you like the back of his hand at this point, you were his sister in law.

“Has he called at least?”

You sigh, shaking your head. You knew Jack loved Daisy, you knew he loved both of your kids with all his heart, but it was still upsetting to know that he would be missing Daisy’s first milestone.

“Well don’t worry about it too much Rory, I’m sure he’ll call by tonight. That’s his Daisy girl after all, he wouldn’t miss seeing you two over FaceTime.”

You nod, giving Quinn a quick hug before waving goodbye to all your family members. Now, it was just you and your two kids, like it had been for the past 2 weeks.

You missed Jack with all your heart, wanting to do this entire parenting thing with him. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to be here with you guys, it was just that he couldn’t. But it didn’t make that any less painful.

“Hey.” The sound of Jack makes both of your kids’ ears perk up, Daisy blabbing happily as Olivier ran out from his room.

“Dada!” Ollie takes a seat right next to Daisy, who was currently on your lap.

“My Ollie boy!” Jack’s smile grows wide, watching as Olivier fidgets around in happiness. “How was Daisy’s birthday baby? Did you guys have fun?”

“So much fun!” Olivier opens his arms wide, as if he was trying to express how much fun he had with the length of his arm. “I had this much fun!”

“Oh really,” Jack laughs. “I bet you did. Did you give mama a hard time?”

“Nah uh!” Olivier shakes his head, getting up and personal to the camera. “Daisy was fussin’ earlier dada, but mama took care of her.”

“I’m glad.” Jack then turns his attention to you on the screen. “Hi Rory sweetheart.”

“Hi,” you say. You want to sound happy, you do, but not having Jack by your side really took a toll on your emotions.

“You okay?”

“I just wish you were here Jacky.”

Jack sighs, turning on his hotel room lamp. “I know baby, I wish I was too. I really miss you guys.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

Jack’s happy demeanor flatters. “What did you say?”

“Nothing Jack,”

He shakes his head. “No Rory. I heard you. What do you mean it doesn’t seem like it?”

“You barely called today Jack!” You say exasperated, “it’s your daughter’s first birthday, and you barely called. It’s 10pm right now, I should’ve put Daisy and Ollie to sleep an hour ago, but I was waiting on your phone call ‘cause I knew they’d wanted to see you. You know, their father, Jack.”

Jack rubs his face in annoyance, clearly not expecting such a reaction from you. “Well I’m sorry I was busy Rory. I would’ve called if I wasn’t, you know that right? I love you guys, you know this. I’m sorry I haven’t been there Ror, I know it’s hard on you. But you’re such a good mother, you’re doing so well with the kids, I’m proud of you.”

“You know what’s funny, J?” You laugh, a few tears coming to your eyes. “Your words are supposed to make me feel better. Your compliments are supposed to make me let go of all this tension. But they feel like bullets, Jack. I feel your compliments feel like bullets on skin.”

Jack doesn’t know what to say. He knew you would be upset he wouldn’t be able to make it to Daisy’s birthday, but he didn’t think you’d be this upset.

“I’ll talk to you in the morning, okay? We both just need to calm down.”

And before you could protest, Jack’s already hung up.

You swear quietly, covering your baby’s ear as you do so. You get up from your place on the couch, deciding to just call it a night and put Daisy to sleep.

“Are you asleep yet Ol?” You peek your head quietly into your son’s room after putting Daisy in her crib.

“No mama,” he says quietly back, little feet running to you. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course you can sweetheart,” you carry Olivier on your hip, walking to your room and making sure your son gets comfortable under the sheets. “Mama is gonna do her skincare, you sleep first, okay baby?”

“Yes mama.”

That night, you can’t help but cry silently as you cuddled your son close to your chest. You knew you were being emotional, but you couldn’t help it. You missed Jack more than anything.

The next morning, you’re awoken by a kiss on the forehead.

“J?” You say groggily, making out your husband’s face as your vision becomes clearer. “J!”

You throw your arms around him, bringing him into a tight hug.

“Rory.” He replies back, pulling away to give you a long awaited kiss on the lips.

After pulling away, you can’t help but chase his lips, which make him chuckle quietly. He presses his head down to give a kiss on Olivier’s forehead.

“Daisy’s still asleep?” You ask, putting your arms around Jack’s shoulders. You missed feeling his touch so much.

“Sound asleep.” Jack smiles. “Looks exactly like her mama.”

You look down guilty, realizing what you had said to Jack yesterday. “I’m sorry about yesterday J. I was just really emotional about you missing Dais’s first birthday. It means a lot to me that you’re here for our babies milestones.”

“I know.” Jack says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m here now, okay? I told them I had to be home with my wife and kids immediately after I hung up last night. I had to see you guys again, it was killing me too.”

You pull Jack into a hug once again, cherishing this intimate moment you were having with him. It felt so good to have him back in your arms again after a long 2 weeks.

You were too happy to remember to show him the news you had found out a few days ago.

The blue stick with two lines on it.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 8

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,416ish

Summary: You get brought to a school and meet new mutants.

Warnings: sadness, time skips

Notes: Hopefully this chapter makes sense and isn't complete trash. And don't worry! Our lovebirds will see each other again soon! But that doesn't mean there's fluff coming... Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

You didn’t expect to be brought to a mansion—a school when you got in the jet. You had stayed silent and stared out one of the windows the entirety of the flight. Charles explained where you were headed: Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. He ran the school for mutants to get educated and learn to handle their mutations. You would have loved the idea more if you weren’t dying inside. The kids were all escorted to a lab to get checked out while you stayed seated on the jet. Charles stayed with you.

“I can help you,” he said.

“Stay out of my head,” you grumbled.

“I am truly sorry for what I had to do before.” He wheeled closer. “You’re safe now.”

“I don’t care!” You finally looked at the man, not caring if he saw you crying. “Nothing matters anymore… Nothing…”

“You’ve been through a lot. You need rest and to get that bullet out of your shoulder.”

You shook your head. “I need James… I don’t care about anything else… I just need him.” You stood up. “I have to go back.”

“It’s too late. The military has already arrived.”

“I can’t— I can’t—“ You broke into sobs as you collapsed on your knees. 

You never even noticed that a young girl had entered the jet. She walked over to you and knelt in front of you. Clearly feeling brave, the girl reached out and took your hand.

“Jean,” Charles called, “what are you doing?”

“Her thoughts are loud,” the girl, Jean, admitted.

You tried to weakly tug your hand away, but the girl held strong. You looked at her, confused, before you began to feel sleepy. Before you knew it, you were passed out on the floor of the jet.

“Jean, you shouldn’t have done that,” Charles admonished.

“I had to,” Jean argued. “Her pain was everywhere. She needs rest.”

Charles sighed. “And you did well. Go get Hank so that we can get our new friend here to a bed.”

~~~

Glancing around the room, you put together that you had been moved to the lab or med area of some sort. There was a large, blue… beast? The beast was facing away from you, looking at some screen. You cleared your throat as you sat up. The beast turned around.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he said, coming towards you. “You’ve been asleep for a few days. We were worried there for a second.”

“Where am I?” You asked, still nervous about your surroundings.

“At Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.”

“This doesn’t look like a school.”

“This is our underground facility, used for training mostly.”

You nodded. “Who are you?”

“I’m Hank McCoy.”

“Y/N L/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

You sat up and swung your legs over the edge of the table. “Am I good to leave?”

“This room or the school?”

“Both.”

Hank sighed, almost like he knew you were going to say that. “You should talk to Charles before you leave. I’ll take you to him.”

You slipped off the metal table and followed Hank out into the hallway. It was silver metal, like the room you were just in, and long with various large circular doors with ‘X’s on them. Hank led you to an elevator, letting you enter first before he pressed the button to go up. 

When the elevator reopened, you were a bit taken back. It was like you were transported to a completely different place. The place was grand and spacious, featuring intricate woodwork and paintings on the walls. It was almost like a museum. There were children of various ages rushing about—students of the school. You kept looking around as Hank led you to a quaint office down the hall from the elevator. Charles Xavier was already facing the door, waiting for you.

“Thank you, Hank,” Charles said. “You may leave us.”

Hank gave the other man a nod before leaving, shutting the door behind him. Charles gave you a light smile as he motioned over to a leather chair.

“Please, have a seat.”

“I’m good,” you said, your words baring no emotion.

“Very well. How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Charles sighed. “I am not the enemy, Y/N. I am sorry for taking away your free will, but it was for your safety.”

“My safety doesn’t matter anymore… James is dead.”

“I am sorry for your loss.”

“When can I leave?”

“Whenever you’d like. But I do hope you’d stay a while, give this place a chance. We could use another teacher.”

Your heart suddenly sunk when it finally hit you that your students didn’t know what had happened. They were probably devastated. You finally took a seat before your knees could give out.

“I believe that we could use you here, Y/N,” Charles continued. “You’d be a great teacher. A teacher to mutants like you. You could be the good influence that you didn’t have.”

You shook your head, tearing up. “I can’t… I don’t know how… not without James.”

“It will be hard. But here, you could gain a family. Friends who are like you. A job and even, a mission.”

“I… I can’t stay.”

“It’s your choice. But please do stay for a few days, just to get some rest and figure out what you would like to do. I can show you to a room that you can use as long as you need.” He reached over and placed his hand on top of yours. “This place will always welcome you, no matter what you choose.”

~~~

You were given your own room near the other teachers. You told Charles that you would stay for a few days to get a plan together and then leave. But now it had been over a week. You couldn’t get yourself to leave, but you also weren’t interacting with anyone. You kept to yourself whether that was in your room or roaming through the gardens. You could feel the eyes of everyone at the school on you, wondering who you were and what you were doing there, but you didn’t care. The gardens were big enough that you often found new areas to hide in every day. You would find a spot and cry, wishing that you could somehow make things right again. That James could be by your side.

It had been a while since you had any nightmares, now they were every time you closed your eyes. You had set your room on fire a few times, with Charles and Hank telling you that it was alright, but it didn’t matter. You avoided sleep now. You couldn’t risk burning the place down though you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave. There was something about this place that wouldn’t let you go. Something telling you that you were meant to stay.

You were in the gardens one day when it got really bad. You were absentmindedly walking around when your right hand gripped at your left. You stumbled to a stop as you looked down at your hand. Your ring. You didn’t have your ring. A sob tore through you before you could do anything about it and you were quickly brought to your knees. Your chest was tightening, causing you to struggle for breath. 

You didn’t register the quick footsteps behind you. Or the three students that knelt in front of you.

“We have to help her,” one of them said. He had sunglasses over his eyes, trying to manage the lasers that could shoot from them. “Ororo?”

“Don’t look at me,” Ororo responded.

“I can help her,” the red-headed, Jean, offered. “I’ve done it before.”

Jean’s hand reached out and gripped your shoulder. Within a few moments, you were completely passed out on the ground.

“Grab her, Scott,” Jean told the boy.

Scott picked you up and carried you inside. Charles was already there waiting, sensing what had happened. He instructed the kids to take you to your room and then he’d keep an eye out on you. So that’s were you woke, in your new bed. Charles was reading a book next to the bed, using the lamp on the bedside table to give off some light.

“How did I get here?” You asked.

Charles set the book down on his lap and gave you a tight smile. “Scott Summers, one of the kids that you rescued. He and two others found you. I had them bring you here.”

You nodded as you sat up, leaning against the headboard. “I’m so lost.”

“I know.”

“I think… I think I’m going to stay. At least for a little while. Until I find myself again.”

“We would be honored to have you.”

“And I can teach?”

“Of course.”

~~~

Charles had you set up in a classroom the next day and a few days later, you were teaching the English Literature class. Jean, Scott, and Ororo were three of your students, each in different classes. Slowly, you began to connect more with each of them. You would help them with various homework assignments after classes and soon began watching their training sessions, giving them tips on how to control their powers.

“Scott, it starts with confidence,” you told him from the side of the Danger Room, located in the basement of the mansion. “If you don’t believe you can control it, them you won’t be able to.”

Charles watched the training session from the sidelines, interested in how quickly you ended up helping these kids. You watched as Scott shot his lasers everywhere, quickly losing control. You ducked before you got hit. Scott grunted in annoyance as he slipped his new visors on that Hank had made him.

“I’m done for the day,” Scott grumbled, stomping out of the room.

You sighed as you pushed yourself up to standing.

“You’ve seemed to grow fond of Scott, Jean, and Ororo,” Charles stated as he rolled toward you.

“They need some help,” you said. “I can provide that.”

“And you’re doing it very well.” He looked around the Danger Room. “When was the last time you let your powers unleashed?” You clenched your jaw, thinking back to the day you lost James. “You should take some time to work on your own abilities.”

“I don’t have any reason to.”

“And if I gave you a reason?” You eyed Charles curiously. “This underground facility is also known as the headquarters for the X-Men.”

“X-Men?”

“A team of mutant heroes that help were needed. As of right now, we don’t have a team. You could train some students, put a team together.”

“You trust me to do this?”

“Y/N, I have seen your past. This is your chance to put together a team who could actually make a difference.”

You gave it a brief thought, knowing that Charles had a point. “Okay. I’m in.”

~~~

You began training the students interested in joining the team and those with abilities that could help the team. That meant that you had long days, but you didn’t mind. The longer the days, the less time you slept, which also meant less nightmares. You began to use your abilities more and more, working to strengthen them using the Danger Room in ways that you hadn’t before. It was freeing, your alone time in the Danger Room.

A few years past and the students were older, officially ready to be part of a team. To them, that meant that they needed superhero nicknames.

“What about Cyclops?” Jean suggested for Scott.

“Cyclops isn’t terrible,” Ororo agreed.

“I honestly don’t care,” Scott said.

“Cyclops it is then,” Jean said with a smile. “Ororo is obviously Storm.”

“I love it!” Ororo exclaimed with a clap. “And you’re Phoenix, Jean.”

“Phoenix… I like it.” The three turned to you, who had remained silent, working on new suit designs. “And for Y/N… I think… Ember.”

“Ember?” You repeated.

“I think it works great!” Ororo said. 

You sighed. “Whatever you kids say.”

“Ember it is then!”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You guys need a life.”

“We have one. We’re X-Men!”

“Or X-Women,” suggested Jean.

“That doesn’t roll off the tongue nicely.”

“If you three could stop talking about names and start helping me with these sketches, that would be nice.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Scott replied with a mock salute. 

With a mere thought of yours, flames appeared on the jeans Scott was wearing. He screamed, running around, while the other three of you laughed. You put out the flames before any real damage could be done, revealing that the flames had destroyed Scott’s jeans and underwear, leaving his butt hanging out. You, Jean, and Ororo only laughed harder as Scott tried to cover his butt with his hands and ran off.

~~~

You woke up feeling off and looking at the date only made it worse. It was the tenth anniversary of James’ death. Thankfully, you didn’t need to teach today. So you were slow to get up and ready before heading out to the gardens, to try and spend the day alone. Your hand stayed clasped around your dog tags as you wandered the gardens aimlessly. You could feel eyes watching you from the mansion and knew that Charles, Hank, Ororo, Jean, and Scott were worried.

It was around dinner time when Charles decided to go to you. You were standing near the pond, staring out like you weren’t even there. Charles sat next to you, staring out for a moment before clearing his throat.

“I know today is hard for you,” he said. “But there are some bright sides to it… Ten years ago, you were brought here. Scott was brought here. You’ve become a teacher and a leader to many mutants.”

“I miss him,” you rasped, voice cracking. “I miss him every day, but…”

“Today is worse. I have days like that too. Days were I miss those that I used to know.”

“Like Erik and Raven?”

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“I know you mean well, Charles, but Erik and Raven aren’t dead. You’re just on different sides of the fight. James… James is dead and part of me died with him.”

“Yes, but a new part of you was born.” When you didn’t respond, Charles sighed. “At least eat something. We can’t have you leaving us too soon.”

Charles rolled away, leaving you alone once again. 

“I love you, James,” you closed your eyes and whispered, praying that somehow he could hear you. “I will always love you.”

next chapter >

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Okay okay, this is small, but can I please request a Tangerine x fem!civilian/wife reader based off of this Gif/scene? Where Tangerine’s wife loves plushies and that’s why he grabbed it, to give it to his love because he’s a huge softie for her, which Lemon teases him relentlessly for hehe (and he lived and was able to give it to her)🥰🥰

I LOVE THIS SM

Gifts

As soon as he entered that car, he mentally vomited. Although it reminded him way too much of you.

“No, no, no, don’t have the time or the patience, let alone the interest.” He said, walking past the walking advertisement trying to sell him some stuffed animal. He took one anyways, looking at it.

‘Aw, fuck, well now I have to keep it for her.’ He thought.

“Are you- are you following me?” He asked the person in the suit.

“Stop!” He said. And threw the stuffed animal at them, before quickly grabbing it again and continuing to walk.

He tried to hide it while he walked.

—————————-

As soon as they finally got out of the bullet train, lemon laughed at him.

“The fuck is that for?”

“What?” He asked.

“The stuffed animal.”

“Oh, bloody fucking- Its for my girlfriend. I’m not fucking keepin’ it for fun. That old ladybug dickhead already said something about it, I had to lie and said I had a niece! So can we please go now?!”

Lemon just laughed and started to drive.

“You’re so whipped.” Lemon said.

“What?”

“You are. It’s true.”

“Lemon, I swear to god, one more word from you about this, I’m going to strangle you.”

“Alright, alright, sorry, sorry.”

——————————

As soon as he opened the door, you ran up to him and hugged him.

“Holy shit- you’re very….”

“Wounded? I know, I know. But I brought ya something.” He handed you it and you smiled widely.

“Thank you! You’re the best.” You said, and kissed his cheek as he handed you it.

“Im starting to think that you love your stuffed animals more than me.” He grumbled as you put it on your guys bed.

“I do not!”

“Mhm. Right..”

[imtherain]

How We Used To Be (Forced Closeness)

Oh Hai - Logan has inspired me again. This was supposed to be a very different story and there was supposed to be smut, but it didn't work out that way.

Warnings: Talk of injuries (basically that scene in Logan (2017)), Not smut, almost tho, talk about the past, angst I guess? Old Man Logan, who has issues with intimacy and it's not what you think (or maybe it is). I used y/n but it's in first person and I gave her powers/a mutant name, so idk what that's called.

Old Man Logan x mutant!reader I guess? I'm too old to learn the new tricks of labeling these things, all I know is I've been thirsty for Logan since I was literally 7 years old and this is quickly turning into one of the recipe blogs where you have to read a bazillion words before you see the directions. Sorry

Word Count: 3.2k (don't look at me)

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

“You look like shit, love,” I said, leaning in the doorway to the bathroom. Logan’s eyes shot up to glare at me in the mirror. He was bleeding from several bullet wounds and was currently shirtless and heaving over the sink. 

“Get the fuck out,” He ground out. I hadn’t seen him in almost six months. Almost a record.

“Calaban called me,” I told him, knowing he likely knew that was how I ended up here. “I’m glad he did, you’re worse off than anticipated.” 

“If you touch me, I’ll rip your arms off,” A caged animal snapping his teeth. I knew all of his threats to me were empty, but it still made my heart ache that he would rather suffer than let me help him.

“I’m not scared of you,” I told him, pulling myself off the doorframe. I shut the door behind me and crossed the tiles until I stood next to him. He was snarling in general, but didn’t move away when I took a cloth and began to clean the blood from one of the wounds on his arm.

My gift had earned me the name Booster back when things were good and goofy mutant names were all the rage, as my main ability was that I literally boosted other mutants powers when I touched them. I always joked about how it was a lazy XMen name. But now? There weren’t many of us left, no reason for silly code names. But we still stuck together when we could. I told myself that was the only reason I hung around this part of the country still. To be close to the few mutants I knew were left.

Nevermind that it was really the bleeding man in front of me that I stayed for.

“I don’t need your help,” Logan’s voice was quieter now, but still sharp edged like his teeth. I shushed him and wiped at another spot of blood, waiting for him to give in to the knowledge that I could actually make him feel better.

“I’m sure you don’t, but it would make me feel useful to help, would you deny me that?” I quirked an eyebrow at him and he looked away from me. 

“Last time you helped me I hurt you, I’m not letting that happen again,” I reached up and took his face in my hands. His eyes fluttered closed.

“Cuts heal,” I told him. He moved to cage me with his arms for a moment and I was sure he was going to give in. But all at once he shoved me away from him and I stumbled into the wall. “Logan,” I chided. 

“Leave, Y/N,” There was no snarl left in his voice, just defeat. 

And pain.

“No,” I told him simply. “Now are you going to let me Boost you or not?” 

“Last time…” 

“Yeah, yeah, last time,” I rolled my eyes as I cut him off. My abilities didn’t just boost one part of a mutant, it boosted all of them. So in Logan’s case, it made him a bit more animalistic for a time. Made him more likely to use his teeth, or use his claws.

The claws are what got me that last time he kept thinking about. He got me good, I'd give him that, I even had the scars on my ribcage if you looked close enough. But I didn't tell him that.

“If you do that again, I won’t be able to stop myself from…” Logan snarled at himself as a wave of pain contorted his features. “Fuck,” He cursed lowly to himself. I sighed and pulled my shirt off while he watched me in the mirror. 

“I’m a big girl, love, I can handle you,” I half teased, half soothed him. “And don’t forget, I get to keep a bit of what I boost, so anything you do to me won’t last long,” A secondary benefit to skin to skin contact with me. I got to taste the powers that others had. I hadn’t used it on too many mutants in my life. Most mutants didn’t really have powers that benefited from boosting all that much. But Logan and his healing factor? It was useful. Even if it made him extra feisty for a day or so.

It also made him horny usually but that was hardly a complaint from me.

“Fine, but only for a minute,” He finally gave in. I smiled at him and stepped behind him.

“Want me to take my bra off too?” I smirked over his shoulder at him and he shivered, shaking his head no. Too bad I was a bad listener. I shucked my bra and made a big show of dropping it to the floor next to us. Logan let out a shaky breath, knowing what was coming.

We’d been here before.

I pulled his beater out of his pants and slid my hands slowly up his ribs. He grunted as my hands slid over bruises and broken things. I hummed softly as I let my powers unfurl into his skin while I slid his shirt up. I’d learned pretty early on that the more skin that touched skin, the better my boosting worked.

I pressed myself along Logan’s back as I helped ease his shirt over his shoulders and arms. He groaned when the shirt finally came free over his head and joined mine on the floor. 

My arms closed around him, one moving up towards his chest, one circling around his middle. Skin searching skin as he caught my eyes in the mirror. 

“How does it feel?” I whispered against his shoulder. I had aimed for his neck but he avoided me.

“Warm,” He murmured. “Always does,” I pressed a soft kiss to his skin and he shivered again.

Instead of teasing him anymore, I focused on the task at hand, closing my eyes and leaning against him. I could feel my powers seeping into his skin, like sunshine that time we took a bunch of the kids to the beach the summer it was so hot the AC kept going out. I wondered if he ever let himself remember the good times or if he only ever lingered on the bad ones.

Logan let out a shaky breath followed by a deep groan as a bullet pushed free of his flesh. It landed with a metallic thud in the sink, closely followed by a second and a third. 

“Do you know how many there are?” I asked. 

“More,” Was all Logan got out from between his clenched teeth. I adjusted my hold and focused back on my breathing. Healing and boosting were both somehow tied to breath. 

My powers were not a magic fix though either. It still took time. I still remembered the days when he didn’t need me to boost him, but he’d ask just so I’d touch him a little. Back then I’d been shy, always holding his hand, or maybe his arm. I was shy a lot until the day he kissed me the first time.

Then all the cards were on the table…all the clothes on the floor.

A metallic thud on the floor brought me back to the task at hand. I moved my arms to touch different skin and Logan covered my hands with his, holding me so I didn’t pull away. I smiled against his shoulder and playfully nipped him with my teeth.

“And you didn’t want me to touch you a second ago,” I teased him. He growled, low in his throat. The animal was coming up in his chest and I knew what that meant for me. Logan was scared he’d hurt me again, but I knew the risk, and I was eager to face him. 

“That’s enough,” Logan panted, but he didn’t pull my hands away. I waited to see what he’d do, pull away or pull me closer. 

He brought one of my hands up to his mouth and kissed each finger tip. I hummed in pleasure, not so subtly rubbing my suddenly erect nipples along his spine. Another growl and my fingers were suddenly in his mouth.

“Logan!” I chuckled as he nibbled on my fingers. “I know that’s technically skin, but my arm isn’t helping if you hold it up like that,” I tried to pull my hand back and he just grumbled at me. 

“How do you still taste so good?” Logan mused, not expecting an answer. “It’s been years and you still taste just as sweet,” 

“You’re a romantic is why,” I hid my blush from his hungry eyes by dipping behind his shoulder again. Logan pulled me in front of him, caging me between his chest, his arms, and the bathroom sink.

“You should leave now, before it’s too late,” His eyes were hungry in the same way they had always been for me. I reached up and took his face in my hands again, tracing the crows feet around his eyes with my thumbs.

“And miss all the fun?” I mused. He rolled his eyes at me. “And you’re still bleeding,” I pointed out, tracing the one wound on his arm that hadn’t quite healed yet. It must have been the nastiest one because it appeared to be the last one to go.

“Y/N,” he warned. 

“I’ll stop touching you when this one heals,” I told him. “Promise,” it was a baldfaced lie. I wouldn’t leave him unless he bodily threw me out the window. And not only would I not fit out the closest window, he would never dare.

“I don’t know if I can hold out that long,” Logan’s pupils were blown and his smirk was hazy. I knew exactly what he was craving and I was pretty impressed he’d managed to hold himself back as long as he had.

“I can take you, big boy,” I smirked. “Always could and always will,” I pulled myself on his shoulders so that I could press my lips to his. It was just a quick peck, testing the waters. Logan stared at me for a long time, neither of us noticing that the last bullet hole had finally closed. 

But there was still pain in him, still things to heal, so I held onto him, hoping to fix everything I could before he made me leave him again.

Logan finally got himself together enough to push me away from him. I swallowed hard, wondering if he’d be mad that I clung to him as long as I had, wondering if this time I’d sassed my way into making him actually hate me.

His eyes drifted from my flushed cheeks, to my parted lips, down the curve of my neck and the valley between my breasts. I knew they’d seen better days, having drooped with the years, but from the hunger in Logan’s eyes, you’d think he didn’t notice.

His hands moved from my shoulders to my chest and I gasped at the sudden sensation of him pawing me.

“I shouldn’t,” Logan complained into my throat as he dragged his teeth along my pulse.

“I can take it,” I assured him.

“What if I hurt you?” 

“I can take it,” I told him again.

“Fuck,” Logan’s growl tickled my neck as he moved to lift me onto the nearest surface, a sad excuse for a bathroom cabinet that gave way with a crack as soon as he set me on it.

“I’ll fix that,” I told him but he didn’t care, his mouth was on mine before I could come out with another apology. Logan pulled me flush with his chest, off the now broken surface to my feet, and walked backwards with me until he ran into the door frame. 

I giggled a little as he cursed, unclear why this was so difficult. I got us through the door, smiling and pulling on his hands, making sure to keep my skin touching his somewhere. Anywhere.

Everywhere I could reach. 

Logan licked his way into my mouth as we stumbled through the living room, bouncing off the wayward furniture as we made our way to his bed. Finally, something soft to land on.

I was on my back looking up at him. I’d seen him in his prime, when his hair wasn’t graying, when he didn’t keep a beard. I’d seen him when nothing could stop him. And looking at him now, I felt exactly the same as I did back then. Hungry for the animal of him, for the things I knew he could do to me. Lust for the sensations he could cause. And love, still burning brightly after all these years.

Love for the man he was underneath it all.

When Logan didn’t join me right away, I reached up to him and whined, knowing he always liked how desperate I got for him. He shook his head at my shenanigans and I wiggled for him as his hands worked to undo his pants.

“Impatient as always,” Logan chuckled.

“It’s your fault for making me go away all the time,” I countered. His slacks hit the floor and he moved to kiss his way up my bare stomach as he worked on getting me out of mine.

He just grunted as his mouth ran along the skin he exposed when he pulled my pants and underwear down my thighs. I knew it wasn’t the time to bring it up, so I didn’t push him or ask him to ask me to stay.

Logan pressed his face into the soft spot behind my knee and I squirmed as his beard tickled the sensitive skin.

“God you smell amazing,” He mumbled, tracing the inside of my thigh with open mouth kisses. I let my hips relax and fall open for him and his eyes zeroed in on the place that, at the moment, needed him most. With a growl, Logan moved to bury his face in my folds, and I couldn’t help the surprised yelp I let out at his movements. 

There was a time he would devour me for hours if given the chance. A time when he’d want me in any place we were. Broom closets, empty classrooms, offices that we weren’t even supposed to be in. Every hotel and far too many bathrooms. Quickies and love making and slow fucks and even hate fucks now and then. We had everything, but now? 

“Fuck, Logan that tickles,” I wiggled against his face as he breathed me in.

“Shh,” He murmured. “Just let me have this,” 

“I’m trying to give it to you,” I groaned. Logan rolled his eyes at me, but adjusted so that he could pass a long lick of his tongue through me. I shivered at the sensation, a fire sparking along my nerves. I felt his self-satisfied smirk against my core before he moved his mouth against me again. 

“I don’t remember you being this desperate,” He mused, pulling two long fingers through the dampness he’s been lapping at.

“Logan, baby, please,” I begged him to do more than tease me.

“Please what, sweetheart?” Logan’s eyes caught mine as I huffed, annoyed that he wasn’t fucking me yet.

“I want more of you,” I told him. 

“Yeah well, ‘more of me’ ain’t exactly working at the moment,” He admitted. I knew finally growing old had caught up with him in a lot of ways, but my chest ached for him that it came for him this way too. He’d always prided himself on his virality.

“I want any of you I can get, baby,” I smiled at him, reaching down to pull him flush with my chest so I could kiss him again, my mouth opening easily for his tongue to explore. I let my powers unfurl into the kiss, into any skin of his that was touching mine. Trying desperately to let him feel like himself again.

“Hmm,” He mumbled, pulling back slightly. I kissed the side of his mouth, his jaw, as he tried to shake the feeling out of his head. “Warm,” His eyes were suddenly really far away, sleepy. I kissed him again, softer now. 

“It’s ok, baby, I’ve got you,” I told him. He made a grumbling noise in his chest as sleep zapped his strength.

“What did you…what did you do to me?” Logan tried to push himself off of me, but only managed to roll to one side. I held him close.

“Nothing, love,” I whispered, kissing his face again. “Healing is just, just a lot, remember?” 

“But I was gonna fuck you,” Logan mumbled, eyes closed now.

“I know baby,” I smiled gently at him. I had my arms around him still, trying to help him heal some of the damage that the bullets hadn’t caused. “You can fuck me tomorrow,” He tried to move away from me, but he was unable to untangle our limbs before his body told him it was nap time.

I sighed heavily, a bit bummed that neither of us had ended up getting our rocks off, but happy too, that I’d been able to help boost his healing. But I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that he was far worse off than I thought he was. 

When we were younger, he’d almost go into a rut after being Boosted. It was madness but it was always a good time. The last few years, with his body slowing down, the Boosting made him feral, but then he’d pass out for a long time while his body caught back up. The last time I’d been here, he’d fucked me through two orgasms and himself through one, before the sleepiness came for him. That time, he’d lashed out, thinking he’d been drugged. It was like the nights he’d wake up with nightmares, only he’d not gone fully to sleep yet.

Part of me was glad he didn’t try to gut me at least. But my heart clenched at the thought that maybe the end of him was closer than I wanted to believe.

To stave off the tears that were suddenly crowding my throat, I adjusted our bodies so that Logan could use my chest as a pillow. He mumbled something in his sleep, and his arm pulled me closer, holding me like maybe this time he wasn’t going to let me go. I circled his head with my arms, carding my fingers through his hair, happy to be able to comfort him, to allow him to sleep.

For just a moment, it could have been any other day. We could be young again. All of our friends, still alive. I closed my eyes and imagined the sounds of the school. Kids running down wooden hallways, calling after each other. Tears escaped me then, because most of those kids were gone now. And any kids like them, like I had been so long ago now, didn’t have a school to go to. They would be rounded up and killed now. Or taken away to some place horrible. And I knew there was nothing I could do.

Except maybe hold Logan just a little bit tighter, knowing that every fight ever fought for those kids, eventually made its way to him too.

[Another Logan Fic]

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

Likes/comments/reblogs directly correlate to how much fanfiction/fanart you see ;)

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [2] - Silk

A.N: Here's the new chapter my loves! ❤️ I hope you'll like it, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤️

Summary: Gifts can make good apologies.

Word Count: 3000

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don't condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Well, if the blood splattered on your face was any sign, tonight was not going the way you had planned it to go.

“This is lotus silk!” you snapped, still wiping at the blood on your face while you motioned at your dress with your other hand. “Do you have any idea how impossible it is to remove blood stains from silk?”

Bucky motioned at his men and they scattered along the bar, some approaching Steve’s men–the undying friendship between Bucky and Steve had its effect on people on their payroll as well, since they tended to hang out together— while the rest checked around the restaurant. You knew you were supposed to go to Ethan to make sure he was okay, but Bucky’s voice distracted you before you could even take a step.

“You’re welcome.”

“I know you’re not familiar with the idea of spending time with women who are not in your bed or have their clothes on,” you said through your teeth, running your hand over the blood stain. “But in case you forgot, when people wear nice things on a night out, they usually want to keep them nice—"

“Come on, we’re going,” he said, grabbing your arm and you yanked it back.

“No!”

“Charm…”

“I’m taking Ethan to the hospital, that’s where I’m going,” you said and he pulled his brows together.

“What?” he asked, “Who’s Ethan?”

“What happened here?!” Steve’s voice reached you and you turned to see him walk into the bar.

“Hi Steve.”

“Please tell me that’s not your blood because if it is, your father will end the truce just to put a bullet in my head.”

“It’s not my blood,” you said sulkily, “Not that it matters, because it’s never getting off.”

“Buck?”

“I was passing by when I got the news,” he said. “Came as soon as I heard.”

 Steve looked around. “That man in the corner, he is one of the attackers?”

“Yeah,” you said and he nodded, then squeezed your shoulder in an assuring manner and approached his men. You huffed out and approached Ethan with Bucky following you.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked and Ethan swallowed thickly, then turned his head to take a look at the bleeding wound on his shoulder only to take a sharp breath.

“Okay, that’s a—that’s a bullet wound.”

“Congratulations, what is this your first time?” Bucky asked drily and you shot him a glare.

“Bucky!”

“What?” he asked. “It’s obviously not fatal, he’s being dramatic.”

“Hey, we’re taking the guy to the warehouse,” Steve said as his men dragged the only surviving attacker outside. “Charm, my men said you came without your usual bodyguards?”

“Yeah I ditched them.”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose while Steve cleared his throat.

“Alright, I’ll have someone drive you to your father’s house—”

“I can take her, it’s fine.”

“Did you fire the gun too close to your ear or something? I said I’m not going anywhere with you,” you growled at Bucky and turned to Steve. “I’m going to the hospital.”

“You said it wasn’t your blood.”

“I’m taking Ethan,” you pointed at Ethan who waved weakly at Steve with his free hand from where he was sitting.

“Hi.”

Steve blinked a couple of times. “���Hello?”

“Is anyone going to tell me who the fuck this dude is?”

“He’s my friend!” you snapped at Bucky and Steve tilted his head, then took a look at Ethan.

“I don’t think I saw you around before, what family are you loyal to?”

“My—mine?” Ethan tried, stealing a look at you as if asking for a clue. “I mean I couldn’t attend the last Thanksgiving but—”

“He’s a civilian Steve, we know each other from college.”

Steve raised his brows and Bucky’s eyes widened before he let out a chuckle.

“Wait, just so I’m clear,” he said. “You went on a date with a civilian outside your father’s territory without bodyguards?”

“It’s not a date.”

“Isn’t it?” Ethan asked, making your head whip around.

“Is it?”

“Unbelievable…” Bucky muttered. “Outside your father’s territory, Charm? Where are you going for the next date, a sinking ship?”

“A corn maze probably—”

“You don’t have to talk to him,” you told Ethan and he nodded.

“Sorry, it’s my first time getting shot so I’m not sure how it goes—” he paused for a moment. “Hey quick question, am I gonna die?”

“You’ll be fine, we will take you to the hospital,” you assured him while Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Do you go to the hospital for a papercut as well, Ethan?”

You groaned. “Steve, make him stop!”

“Guys it’s not the time for this,” Steve said, ignoring Bucky’s smug smirk. “Charm, how about this? We’ll take him to the hospital, give him the usual story, and Bucky will take you home. No offense, but I don’t want your father to rain hellfire here the moment he hears you were in a shootout.”

You pursed your lips and thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Fine.”

“Wait, what story?” Ethan asked and Bucky waved a hand in the air.

“Oh you know, the story you will tell the cops or else they will find you in a dark alley.”

“Ah,” Ethan said, stealing a look at you. “He’s joking right?”

“No he’s not,” you said, checking your phone. “Steve’s men will fill you in. Steve, the hospital in Sam’s territory is closer to here actually, it’s a ten-minute drive and I think Sarah is working tonight.”

“Okay,” he said, grabbing his phone. “I’ll let Sam know.”

“Come on princess,” Bucky said and you licked your lips.

“Ethan, they’ll take you to the hospital, is that okay?”

Ethan gave you a thumbs up and you shook your head slightly, then walked out of the bar with Bucky. One of his men opened the car door for you and you got in, fixing your dress and huffing out. Bucky got in as well, and the driver started the car.

You crossed your arms, stubbornly fixing your eyes on the window, watching the cars and buildings wheeze by while the car moved through the traffic. Your thoughts were spinning around in your head like a tornado while you tried to figure out who those men were and why they had attacked you at the risk of breaking the truce, especially considering that as far as everyone was concerned, you weren’t in the business. Your father had spent years keeping you out of it no matter how much you insisted to be a part of it, telling you that he didn’t want you in danger.

It hadn’t stopped him from making your cousin be a part of it though. Despite the fact that you were supposed to be the heir, he was the one who everyone assumed would take over once your father retired.

“You look beautiful,” Bucky’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned your head to shoot him a glare, making him heave a sigh.

“Charm…”

“You ruined my dress!”

He ran a hand over his face, his vibranium arm glimmering under the street lights you passed by for a moment.

“My deepest apologies for not paying attention to your dress while saving you.”

“I didn’t need saving, and it’s lotus silk!” you insisted. “Do you have any idea how many stores Becca and I had to visit until we found a nice dress?”

“Strangely enough, my sister doesn’t tell me about your adventures in shopping on a daily basis,” he deadpanned. “And I take it Becca knew you were going on a date with a civilian?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“He thought it was a date,” Bucky pointed out. “Even while he was bleeding on the floor.”

“And what if it was a date?” you asked back and he shot you an almost chiding look.

“Civilians are a bad idea, Charm.”

A bitter smile curled your lips and you sat up straighter so that you could see him better.

“Oh good, I was just in the mood to get some romance advice from you,” you said. “Go on then. What does the perfect-heir-turned-boss think?

A shadow crossed his face for a second, but when he spoke his voice was completely calm.

“That you’re being too reckless.”

“What does it matter if I date a civilian or not?” you asked, almost daring him. “I’m not in the business, remember? Unlike you, I’m not going to get my family’s empire once my father decides to retire—”

“Aren’t you?” he cut you off and the sarcastic smile was wiped off of your face in a second, your heartbeat getting faster.

No way.

No God damn way.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, coaxing a small smile out of him. For perhaps the millionth time, you noticed just how handsome he was but the mere thought made you scowl.

Too bad he was an insufferable prick, handsome or not.

“Come on,” he taunted you. “We both know what I’m talking about.”

You paused for a moment, then turned your glances to the window to watch the road as the car reached the huge gates of your father’s estate. Bucky typed something into his phone, probably texting Steve, and you wiped at your face again just in case there was any dried blood before the car stopped by the huge mansion. The driver opened your car door and Bucky followed you as you climbed the marble stairs leading to the front door. You rang the doorbell, then bit at your fingernails.

“Miss,” the maid greeted you when she opened the door and you smiled at her.

“Hi Molly,” you said. “Where is my father?”

“In his office.”

“Thank you,” you said and nodded at Bucky so that he would come with you to the study. You knocked at the door and when you heard your father’s voice telling you to come in, you opened it.

“Hi daddy.”

“Hi sweeth—what happened?!” he stood up from his seat behind his desk and quickly made his way to you. Bucky closed the door behind you as you looked down at your poor dress, then shook your head when your father made his way to you to check you for injuries.

“It’s not my blood,” you said quickly. “Don’t worry.”

“Who did this?” your father asked, anger apparent in his voice as he turned to Bucky. “When did this happen? Bucky?”

“Arthur,” Bucky greeted him. “I wanted to come and give you the news myself, just in case. She’s completely fine—”

“Albeit very annoyed,” you interrupted him and Bucky repressed a smile.

“And very annoyed as you can see.”

“My dress is ruined,” you grumbled and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I’ll ask the next guy who holds you at gunpoint to take a couple of steps back before I blow his brains out, I promise.”

“Much appreciated,” you snarked back but your father raised a hand, motioning at you both to stop.

“At gunpoint—what happened?” he said. “Who broke the truce?”

“No one,” Bucky said. “I assure you. It happened in Steve’s territory, but they were not Steve’s people. We left one of them alive, he took him to the warehouse to question him.”

Your father ran a hand over his face.

“Steve’s territory?” he asked before turning to you. “Sweetheart, what were you doing in Steve’s territory?”

“I um…” you stumbled over your words. “I—you know, that’s actually a funny story—”

“Becca likes the cocktails there,” Bucky cut you off. “You two were going to meet there, right Y/N?”

You stared at him for a couple of seconds, then cleared your throat and nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said, turning to smile at your father. “Uh huh. Me and Becca.”

“Without bodyguards?”

“We wanted a girl’s night out,” you said, making your father shoot you a look. “Alright fine, before you give me yet another one-hour long speech about being careful, I’d like to get all this blood off of me, so can we postpone it after I take a very long bath and get some sleep?”

He heaved a sigh and nodded at you. “Go.”

“Yay!” you said and pressed a kiss on his cheek, then turned to Bucky. “You owe me a dress.”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender as you walked to the door, then closed it behind you.  You stretched out before dragging your weary self up the stairs, and Molly approached you.

“Miss, I asked the girls to draw you a bubble bath.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!” you said, “Would you mind—”

“Your plate of chocolate strawberries and glass of champagne are already there.”

You pressed a hand on your chest with a gasp.

“Molly you’re an angel, you know that?” you said, then blew her a kiss as you made your way through the hallway to the bathroom. “Thank you!”

                                        *

Considering how last night had gone, it was no wonder that exhaustion made you sleep like a rock. Though your dreams were in no way peaceful, your long bath had helped you relax just a little and it was only when someone knocked on the door that you woke up, a groan leaving your lips.

“Y/N?” your cousin’s voice reached inside the room, making a frown pinch your brows together. You rolled your eyes, then sat up in bed.

“What?”

“Can I come in?”

“If you must,” you grumbled as the door opened, and he stepped in. Unlike you, it was clear that he had been awake for a while which made you check the time on your phone, seeing multiple text messages from Becca before lifting your head to look at him.

“Ian,” you said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I was going to wait until you woke up but it didn’t seem like you would,” he said. “Uncle informed me about what happened.”

“Of course he did.”

“You should have told me about it,” Ian said. “As soon as it happened. This is a family matter, why am I hearing about this after Barnes or Rogers?”

“It happened in Steve’s territory.” You shrugged your shoulders. “What, am I supposed to draw you a map of the city all of a sudden?”

“And what were you doing in Steve’s territory?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was meeting Becca.”

He crossed his arms. “I still think you shouldn’t be that close with them. They could turn into rivals with the snap of a finger, and the family—”

“Just because you don’t have any friends doesn’t mean the rest of the family should be company to that misery,” you cut him off. “Besides, they’re our allies and there’s truce remember?”

“For now,” he pointed out. “Doesn’t look like that truce will hold if it turns out that your attackers worked for any of the other families.”

“Well, those attackers were not working for Steve or Bucky.”

“Wilson?” he asked. “He’s their best friend after all.”

“Sam is too smart to break the truce.”

“Then it could be Stark or Romanoff.”

“Or none of the families,” you said. “Everyone spilled too much blood for this, they’re not just going to break it in a way that’s that amateur. Those guys were hired gun for outsiders, I’m almost sure of it.”

“Well I’m not so sure,” he said. “And honestly, I think you’re being too naïve.”

Anger shot through you like lightning but you managed to keep your expression calm.

“I know them way better than you do,” you said, your voice cold. “And if you think you can make business with people whom you point fingers at as soon as something unexpected happens, you’re the one being naïve, not me.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and you glared at him back until he heaved a sigh.

“I’ll talk to Rogers, we need to be the ones questioning the attacker. It’s an attack on not just you, but the family itself—”

“The attack happened in his territory, he’s not going to just give him to you,” you stated. “But by all means, don’t let me stop you from wasting your time.”

He opened his mouth to retort but someone else knocked on the door.

“Miss?”

“Molly, you can come in!” you called out and she opened the door. “Ian was just leaving.”

Ian shook his head slightly, then threw his shoulders back.

“Just don’t go to places without bodyguards—”

“Goodbye Ian,” you cut him off as you leaned back on the fluffy pillows and he scoffed, then walked out of the room. You pushed the covers off of you while Molly stepped inside with a rectangular box in her arms.

“What’s that?”

She put the box on the bed. “It was just delivered for you.”

You hummed as you pulled the box to yourself, then tugged the ribbon on top of it loose. A gasp left your lips as soon as you saw what was inside, and when you pulled the soft dress out of the box, the card inside caught your eye.

Sorry about your dress, princess.

Bucky

He had gotten you the exact same dress that you had thrown into trash last night. You were painfully aware of the smile pulling at your lips and you got off the bed, then walked to the full-length mirror to hold it over your body.

No.

No way.

Bucky was an asshole who had ripped your heart out when you two were younger, and now that he was one of the biggest mob bosses in the city with so much money, power and influence, he was even more arrogant than before, which was saying a lot. You were sure that this nice gesture was some sort of play and contrary to what all these men around you seemed to believe, you weren’t naïve in the slightest.

You pursed your lips together and cleared your throat before you put the dress back in the box, placing the cover on top.

“You can throw it away or give it to someone, I don’t want it,” you said as you handed Molly the box, and she let out a laugh.

“Secret admirer?”

“Not at all,” you said with a laugh, then flung yourself on the bed again. “Just a trick. I’m not his type, and trust me he’s definitely not my type.”

Chapter 3

[chthonia27]

A game of cat and mouse.

Dick Grayson x F!reader.

Content: A secret admirer’s love knows no bounds.

Word count: 1.2k

The city lights shone brilliantly in the dark of night, perched on a rooftop was the ex boy wonder, Nightwing. The harsh wind of winter blew in his hair, messing the strands of onyx out of their rightful place. He looked down to his escrima sticks, twirling it in one of his hands before gazing out to the city once more. It was nothing new, he thought. As much as he adored doing what he did, he couldn’t deny it was rather tiresome most nights, and as skilled as he was, he was always subjected to a few injuries at best. He wiped the dried blood from his lip, graciously given to him from the previous wannabe villain gang. He couldn’t help but grimace at the thought, so many criminals were emerging from seemingly no where, with no real motive other than wanting to be thorns at his side.

Once more, he swung into action. Slithering in and melting into the shadows, stealthily taking out any targets presented. He knew he should be focusing, knew he shouldn’t be distracted, but all he could think about was her. The newest member of the Young justice, the most stunning woman he’d ever met, plagued his mind frequently. Her beauty was that of a siren, her voice the sweetest melody he’d been blessed to hear, and her eyes. Oh her eyes. He would dream of gazing into them during some not to innocent moments. He adored her, loved her even. She was perfect in his eyes, a dream turned reality for him. Not even the endless teasing from his teammates could deter him from clinging onto her, hovering around her whenever he could despite her protests. She was a bit of a loner, charismatic and seductive, yes. But she often chose to isolate herself whenever possible. Whether that was after missions, during patrols or during team building missions. So! He had to improvise somehow, right? He couldn’t ever get more than a few words out of her, usually laced with snark and sarcasm. It was a game to him, multiple bouquets of flowers stuffing her room, to lavish jewels, beautiful hand written love letters to trinkets he believed she’d indulge in. He never signed a name to his gifts, having to stifle a laugh and play coy whenever he’d catch wind of her frustration with her mystery gift giver.

But alas, he couldn’t afford to be thinking about her. Not while he was currently dodging bullets and taking down men left and right. It was a constant, vicious cycle. One he’d been tangled with his entire life. Always having to perform, however that translated to. Circus or battlefield, it was draining regardless. Gods knew he deserved a break, a long vacation with the holder of his heart in a far away paradise. A man could dream. Soon enough, he finished his patrol gracefully, with many criminals that roamed the streets of Gotham now behind bars. Dick grappled back to Mount justice, entering the cave with haste, his eyes searching for her. He entered the common room, where his team was situated. Friends he’d fought with almost all of his teenage years, people for whom he’d led and supported. That’s besides the point, they aren’t the main focus currently. Prior to returning, he’d managed the energy to buy another gift. An ethereal set of diamond necklaces, adorned with pearls that sat snug between the stones. A pretty red ribbon to secure the jewellery box and he was set! Admittedly, he’d spent many thousands on her, and this little habit of his has only started two weeks ago. Had he gone overboard? Of course not! How else would he acquire the love of such a beauty? He called out to his team, “Evening, guys!”, leaving the room before anyone could respond. Tiptoeing around the cave, he reached her room. Leaning his head against the door, he listened for any sounds or presence of life on the room, smirking victoriously when he confirmed she wasn’t inside. He set her gift on her bed and took in her space. Her room reeked of goth, the tall black canopy bed with intricate engravings, the velvet black curtain drape of the bed adding a sense of both privacy and comfort. Her furniture vintage and Victorian looking, and candles accompanied by roses adorned every surface in view. So elegant, so her. Taking a rose, he placed it on top of the jewellery box, once more given with an unsigned identity. Sneaking out of her room, he went about his own nightly routine, showering and dressing himself before doing his hair. Always well kept, especially in her presence. It was rather cute, really. How he’d try to impress her every way possible, always so put together for her. Entering the kitchen, he took out many ingredients and began cooking, taking advantage that most teammates were now preparing to enter the night’s embrace, leaving the only two insomniacs alone. A romantic dinner, for a hopeless romantic.

While he worked on dinner for the two, a nightly routine for the night owls, he hummed softly. His favourite part of the day, coming home and being able to spend time with her, wether he was the one cooking or not, her presence was enough to satiate the longing in his heart. Most of the time. Like clock work, she emerged from her room and graced Dick with her presence. Her stunning hair wet from her shower, and an almost tired look in her gorgeous eyes. His breath hitched when he caught sight of her. She belonged in a painting, he was sure of it.

“What’s on the menu tonight, master Grayson?”, she teased with a smirk that sent shivers of lust down his spine. “Carbonara, doll.”, his smooth voice rung out easily. She hummed in acknowledgment and sat down on the kitchen stool, chin in hand as she watched the man work. She had to admit, he was a sight for sore eyes. Muscles rippling under his shirt, his hair messily attractive after his bath, and his cologne wafting through the kitchen subtly in a way that almost made her want to kiss and mark him. Almost. But there was another pressing matter at hand, one she’d been dying to figure out.

“Dick.”

“Yes?”

“Is it you?”

Now that caught him off guard. Did she know? Had she seen through his attempts at secrecy? “Is what me?”, he said nonchalantly, a skill he’d adapted over many years living alongside his brothers. “The gifts. Is it you?”, her voice firm yet quiet. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, doll. You’ve been receiving gifts? Should I be jealous?”, he casually shot back as a smirk tugged at his lips and sighed internally as she seemed to have bought it. He prepared her plate, giving her a generous amount of the food he’d made, and sat a wine glass down next to it, pouring only the finest wine he’d come across. A perk of being adopted by a billionaire, he supposed. Being able to decipher and build upon an extensive knowledge of the most refined beverages.

“Cheers, love.”

My very first writing piece! Please let me know what you think or anything that could be improved! I hope you’ve enjoyed! :3

[dreamcubed]

i don't wanna live forever | mattheo riddle x reader

song; i don't wanna live forever [taylor swift, zayn] pairing; mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw!reader genre; ex2l, reconciliation, ex-lovers, angst, smut, hurt comfort(ish) word count; 2,8k timeline; half-blood prince  warnings; swearing, toxic relationship, jealousy, controlling behaviour, mattheo is not a good person, neither is y/n, borderline cheating (not on y/n or mattheo), smoking, alcohol consumption, drunkenness, arguments, drunk sex, piv, fingering, degradation, ass-slapping summary; ever since you began dating, you and mattheo had been a fiery and toxic mess of breaking up and getting back together - only, when you finally try and date someone else, you realise that you miss and crave the unhealthy pattern that came with mattheo riddle

MINORS DNI! 18+ content.

i don't typically write smut but this oneshot felt incomplete without it. so, enjoy... 2 year anniversary & 1k celebration gift haha

masterlist

"wondering if i dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life."

——————————————

"I mean, why did you even date him in the first place?" Cho asked you, chewing on a chip, "He's literally You-Know-Who's son."

You sighed, used to this conversation from every person you knew, "You can't judge someone by their parents."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Cho, his dad went MIA for thirteen years when he was one and his mum was in prison until last year. He hardly knows them."

"But," she said, "He was raised by the Malfoys and he was sorted into Slytherin."

You rolled your eyes.

She shrugged, "I'm just saying, the red flags were there."

You didn't reply, moving your gaze over to the group of Slytherin boys sat laughing with each other while they ate. Your ex-boyfriend, Mattheo Riddle, was sat among them.

It felt too definitive saying ex, however, since you two broke up and made up constantly, and had for the last year and a half, much to your friends' horror. You argued with him, you cried over him, you talked shit about him - but you loved him. And the love you had was a burning flame of passion, but it wasn't healthy. You had broken up a week ago, which was actually the longest you had gone without talking.

Normally, you would have caved by now, but you felt different this time. You felt immensely stubborn.

"It's time you stayed apart for good," Cho said, just as Mattheo's eyes locked on to yours, "He's bad for you."

You knew she was right, which was why you accepted when a nice Hufflepuff boy asked you to Hosmeade that weekend.

***

The bouquet of pink and red flowers being presented to you really should have given you butterflies, maybe even made you squeal, but they horrified you. Nonetheless, you smiled and said, "Awh, thank you. You shouldn't have," before taking Leon's extended arm and letting him lead you to the Three Broomsticks. He pulled the chair out for you, and you forced another smile on to your face.

"I've been wanting to ask you out for ages," he said excitedly, "But you were still on and off with Riddle."

You hummed.

"I'm glad you're done with him. He didn't treat you right."

It was mutual. You were just as toxic as Mattheo.

"But I will."

"Well, thank you, Leon," you said gently, "We'll see, won't we?"

He beamed at you, "You're so beautiful."

Surely such a comment should make you blush, right?

***

"How was the date?" Cho wiggled her eyebrows back in the Ravenclaw dormitories.

"It was... good," you said, placing the flowers on your desk haphazardly.

"Just good?"

"He's really nice, I- I just..."

Cho frowned, "He's boring?"

You shook your head, "No, he's funny and interesting."

"Then what's the issue?"

You shrugged, "I don't know."

"Give him a chance then, babe."

***

Leon wrote you poems, he took you on cute dates, he fed you, he walked you to classes, and he hung off your every word. But your eyes would always linger over to Mattheo - because despite everything Leon did for you, the only time you felt butterflies anymore was when you made eye contact with your ex-boyfriend. That glittery spark had never once burnt out in those long eighteen months you were on and off. Every argument and break up only seemed to make it burn stronger and brighter.

And the thing was, Leon was too healthy for you: too sane, too trusting, too normal. Mattheo had turned you into a raging jealous monster, as you had him, and it was part of the reason you were on and off. Neither of you had ever actually cheated, but if you got too close to a boy? He would start an argument and scream at you until you yelled back that you were over. Two days later, he would corner you, never truly apologising but kissing and making up, muttering how he loved you before fucking you until the sun came up.

And you had done the same thing to him.

That was the issue with Leon: he was friends with everyone. Some of his closest friends were girls. Were you jealous? No. But you knew if you began to develop feelings for him then you would become more jealous than an innocent boy like him could handle. You would ruin him the way Mattheo ruined you, fucking him up for any future romantic endeavours.

It drove you crazy how respectful he was, how he didn't bat an eye at you saying you were going to study with a male friend. You needed more push and pull than what he was giving you: you craved a fight, because you craved the crazed passion that came with it.

Yet, three weeks passed by and Mattheo had made no effort to do anything more than glare daggers at you and Leon from across the room.

Then the Christmas holidays hit.

***

A rich Hufflepuff in your year - not Leon - was hosting a house party at their gigantic home, and you had scored an invite. In fact, so had everyone in your year, including a few people from the year above and year below. Leon had immediately owled you to say that he would pick you up before heading there, but you knew that as you patted on concealer and highlight, you were thinking about Mattheo's reaction when he saw you. He had hated when you dressed too revealing, saying that he could see guys' eyes on you - and he wasn't wrong, you just didn't care.

You had purposefully dressed yourself in a tiny black miniskirt and matching bralette, which as a combination left very little to the imagination. With the fishnets you adorned as well, it was borderline lingerie.

Maybe Leon would finally argue with you and make you feel something.

"Y/N, you look gorgeous," he beamed, not a trace of anger on his perfect face when you opened the door to him.

"Thank you," you said, fighting the urge to sigh, "You don't look so shabby yourself."

"Shall we?" he held out his hand to you, which you accepted.

***

The party was already in full swing when you arrived, and you made a quick motion to catch up by downing two shots. Leon watched you in amazement.

"You want one?" you asked, going to pour another drink.

He shook his head, "I don't drink."

"No?" you paused in your movements, thinking that maybe this would be the time you finally argued, "I drink a lot."

"Each to their own," he shrugged, "I'll look out for you."

"Thanks, then," you said awkwardly, "I'm gonna go for a smoke, you coming?" Had you partially said that as another attempt at angering him? Yes. But you also were craving nicotine.

He shook his head, "I'm good, we'll catch up in a bit, yeah?"

You nodded absently, pouring a third shot for yourself before creating a mixed drink and heading outside to the smokers' area. And, there he was, Mattheo Riddle stood with a cigarette between his lips and a drink in his hand.

Pulling out a cigarette that you had tucked in your bralette, you boldly walked up to the group of Slytherin boys and asked, "Anyone got a light?"

Nott, who was right next you, passed you his, but you never took your eyes off Mattheo. His eyes glided up and down your exposed body as you lit your cigarette and took a long drag, relishing in the taste. You watched his jaw clench.

"You and Duggard official yet?" Berkshire asked, referring to Leon. At his question, a borderline growl erupted from Mattheo.

You shrugged vaguely, "We'll see."

"Will you?" Mattheo asked coldly.

You exhaled some smoke, "Well, he's handsome, smart, funny and attentive to my every need."

"Oh, is he?" Mattheo stepped closer to you.

Chuckling, you said, "He's a very kind man."

Mattheo scoffed, pushing past you with a mutter of, "That's not what you need."

He was right, of course, but he didn't need to know that.

You turned your focus to your cigarette.

"He's not the same without you," Nott said casually, dropping his finished cigarette on the ground and stepping on it.

"No?" you murmured, a smile tugging on your lips.

"He hardly sleeps, hardly eats, is angry all the time," he continued, "So, please, stop your little charade with Duggard and get back with him already."

"Who says it's a charade?"

You heard Berkshire scoff, "C'mon, L/N, everyone sees you stare at Matt all the time. Everyone except Duggard, that is."

Biting your lip, you ashed your cigarette, "Well, maybe Riddle should man up and apologise."

***

The party raged on, and as the alcohol flowed through your system, so did the music. Leon didn't seem that keen on the party atmosphere, so you resorted to dancing with Cho and other Ravenclaw girls. That was until you felt a guy come up behind you and begin dancing with you.

You turned around to see a Gryffindor boy from the year above, and he wasn't half-bad looking, so in your drunken state you allowed it to happen. Cho gave you a sceptical look, but didn't intervene.

A hand tugged on your wrist, and you looked up to see Leon.

"Can we talk?" he mouthed, and you nodded absently, following him to the quieter room that was the kitchen.

"What?" you said a little harshly.

"I'd appreciate if you wouldn't dance with other guys," he said, his tone completely without malice.

Your instinct in these situations was to get aggravated, so you snapped, "Well, if you actually knew how to party, I wouldn't have to."

Leon stared at you blankly, "I'm sorry."

For fuck's sake, why did he have to sound so genuine?

"I'll try and come out on the dancefloor if that's what you want."

"Fucking hell," you cursed.

"What? What is it?" he sounded worried.

"Why don't you argue with me?" you exasperated, tugging at your scalp.

Leon frowned, "That's no way to resolve things."

"It's not about resolving things," you snapped, "It's about passion, it's about the spark, it's- it's..." you trailed off, "Rowena, I feel crazy."

"I understand your relationship with Riddle wasn't the easiest one, but I want to help you learn what a calm and healthy relationship is," Leon said gently, "Because you deserve better."

"Are you even listening to me?" you pulled your hands down your face, "I don't want peace. I want passion. I want twin flame bruises. I want a push and pull."

"I-"

You cut him off, "Mattheo would have beat the shit out of that guy for dancing with me."

"That guy probably didn't know you were taken-"

"Mattheo made sure that everybody knew I was his," you said firmly, feeling tears prick at your eyes, "I just need to argue, Leon - I crave it."

"Well, I can't give that to you."

"Y/N," a voice spoke in a growl behind you.

You span around, being faced with the one man who could make you feel electric. And that was when your emotions crashed all over you: upset and anger expressed through tears and yelling.

"Why are you taking so fucking long?" you screamed.

But he wasn't looking at you - no, he was glaring at Leon. "I think you've had long enough with my girl, Duggard," he drawled.

"She's not your girl anymore," you heard Leon reply, before he said to you, "What did you mean when you asked him why he's taking so long?"

You saw Mattheo clench his fist, and you grabbed his wrist to halt him, "Fucking talk to me, Riddle."

His eyes snapped to yours, "I will never be Riddle to you, princess."

"Considering we've hardly spoken the last few weeks, I'd say you are."

"Guess I'll have to remind you who you are to me, then," he chuckled darkly, pulling you away from Leon. The Hufflepuff boy went to follow you worriedly, but you glared at him and he stayed put. Part of you felt bad: a tiny, sober part.

You found yourself in an upstairs bathroom, pressed against a cool tile wall.

"If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I can't promise I'll be a good person about it."

"You're never a good person about anything," you muttered, relishing in his hot breath fanning on to your face.

He smirked, "We both know that's the way you like me."

You hummed, "Fuck me, Mattheo."

"I'm not sure you deserve a good fuck after everything you've done."

"I never fucked him."

"No?" he chuckled, "Good."

And then his lips were on yours, tasting, sucking, nibbling every centimetre. His hand quickly trailed to underneath your skirt, rubbing your clit through your scandalously thin panties.

He pulled away from the kiss, "Don't ever wear anything like this again," he kissed you again, "At least not in public."

"Whatever you want."

He hummed his approval, pushing your panties aside to push two fingers inside of you.

"Please, I just want your dick."

"Yeah?" he murmured, "How bad?"

"So bad, please," you begged, your tear and mascara stained cheeks enhancing the puppy dog eyes you gave him. Mattheo had to admit, he loved seeing you so desperate for him.

"You really don't deserve this," he sighed, unzipping his trousers.

You licked your lips as you watched him pull his rock hard dick out.

"I can't wait to feel your mouth on it again," he muttered, "But I'm feeling nice, so I'll just give you what you want."

Mattheo bent you over the sink countertop, lifting up your skirt and slapping your ass in the process. He pulled your panties further aside.

"Don't act like you don't just miss being inside me," you forced out, making him slap your ass harder.

To your surprise, he said, "Of course I fucking did."

And then he pushed inside you, quickly and without warning, causing you to gasp loudly.

"So fucking wet."

You arched your ass up to him, moaning.

"I don't think I'm gonna last long."

You were hardly able to reply, as he had begun to run circles on your clit as well. But, you agreed with him, as the absence of this feeling had made your body hypersensitive to Mattheo's every touch.

"Fuck, you're such a whore," he murmured, picking up the pace relentlessly.

"Your whore," you managed to say, your eyes rolling back into your head as you felt your orgasm build up.

"I bloody well hope so," he chuckled.

And then, as you both came closer to ecstasy, things went silent - the only noise being his groans, your moans, and the sound of skin slapping.

"Matty, I'm gonna co- fuck!" you cursed, feeling your release wash over you in red hot passion, your vision going white as your every limb shook. You didn't normally orgasm so easily.

He continued to fuck your overstimulated pussy, gripping your hips so hard it would probably leave bruises. "Gonna fill you up," he choked out, his breathing growing heavier as you finally felt his dick throb inside you, signifying his release.

Mattheo stilled, staying inside you for a moment as you both processed the situation. Eventually, he pulled out, helping you turn over so you were sat on the counter facing him. You were both panting.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually, and your eyes widened.

He had never outright apologised before.

"I'm sorry too," you mumbled back.

"I love you so much," he pressed his forehead against yours, "I just I-"

"I love you too. So much."

He hummed, "I just- I don't understand my father. I don't want to live forever."

You frowned, "Why not?"

"Because," he took your hands in his, "Without you, I'd just be living in vain."

A smile stretched widely on your face, "Want to leave this stupid party?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

And as you left the party, hand in hand and evidently in a post-sex haze, Mattheo said - loud enough for a few close people to hear - "I'm gonna marry you, you know that?"

And you did.

———————————————

masterlist

written; 25/02/2024 —> 09/03/2024 published; 09/03/2024 edited; —/—/——

[ax-killjoy]

☆ Because, you’re kind.

Note ! 𖦹 : this is based on a D&D tiktok i saw. :,) i hope this fic makes sense- if not then it becomes part of my sleep deprived nonsense.

Jake Sully/Gn!Reader (Platonic !)

tw !!: child neglect

Y/N was a child birthed from two horribly neglectful parents. Jake Sully remembers vividly, the way your body was born into the light, a gift from Eywa. And the look of your mother’s disgust written on her face, and the distant look from your father.

Jake couldn’t tell whether the heat rising from his throat was bile, or the anger he felt.

I guess Na’vi can be shitty parents too.

He tried giving your parents a chance, seeing that maybe they were just simply fatigued. But that wasn’t the case, he watched over you closely as you grew up. Neytiri could tell something was up with Jake, whenever your parents came to help with operations.

Jake was stiff, his teeth gritting, his jaw clenched and furrowed brows. “you should be looking after your kid.” he seethes, glaring at the parents who were gathering guns. They were chanting loudly, loading guns into saddles as they cheered, killing sky people around the wreckage. “Why ? That child is no gift from Eywa, a mistake maybe. but no gift.” The father says, and Neytiri ears flatten. A crack in her heart, like glass. Jake Sully suddenly stops what he is doing, “You will love your child, you should. Your child, EVERY child is a gift from Eywa.” he says, before storming off to find more guns.

After that, both Neytiri and Jake swore to look after you. To watch you closely, to treat you like one of their own. Until you officially became one of their own.

When you turned 13, you don’t remember it. And Jake thanks Eywa for that, but both of your parents seemingly forgot about you. Or maybe it was intentional.

It was your first hunting trip, you had been begging your parents to take you hunting. They took you to the forest, to the deepest parts of forbidden to unmarked territory, Telling you that all the good animals to eat were here. Your father and mother say that they will watch from afar, and before you knew it. They had left you there, in part of the forest unmarked on a map.

It took a week for Jake and Neytiri to find you, you hid yourself in the nook of the tree. You slept soundly, and the seeds of Eywa surrounded you like an unspoken hug, as if Eywa was reassuring you. Jake’s eyes became glossy, he kneeled down over your body, and he cried. His body shivered and small sobs were let out, god he was so scared. He was so fucking scared you died.

That was when you became an official Sully.

.｡.:*☆♡*.+

As you grew up, you forgot about your parents. Or that’s what everyone saw, you were bubbly now. Nature loving, Curious, full of life. A personality that was never shown when your parents took care of you.

The Sully family cherished you dearly, quickly becoming one of the eldest of the Sully children. Jake and Neytiri were everything your parents weren’t.

Your parents were quickly exiled from Omatikaya, It felt like the sun got brighter, the stars twinkled more, and the breeze welcomed Jake when they left. Relief washed over him.

It was a quiet day, you had come back from hunting with Neteyam. You and Neteyam had just finally turned 15, meaning you both could officially hunt without supervision. Neteyam went to explore with the rest of the family, whilst you and Jake stayed home. He watched as you prepared food, whilst he cleaned his weapons and reassembled them. Checking each bullet intently, putting the broken ones in a separate box. It was a comfortable silence, the warmth of breeze welcomed both of you.

“I know you’re not my real father.” You said simply, cutting the chunks of meat and putting it in a basket with various vegetables.

Jake stopped what he was doing, looking up but not looking at you.

“I know that Neytiri is not my mother.“ you say softly, like it was a secret. As if it was forbidden to say.

“how did you know ?” he asks, his voice is raspy yet ever so soft.

You look back at him, your eyes bright yet spoke a million words. you stopped cutting the meat, you walked to him and sat next to him. Letting your head rest on his shoulder, and you sigh.

“because you and Neytiri are kind.”