#hear me roar omg.

[ouppyfoods]

im so new to all of this i dont know any of the terms very well for therian things but im just gonna dump thoughts in the tags

[seventeenpins]

⁵⁾ pressing the pads of their fingers into their lips in the aftermath, like they’re either trying to capture the feeling or banish it from memory

with x1!Logan pretty plssssss 😏

YES Ozzie omg thank you I love this ❤️

Forbidden Fruit

pairing: dbf!Logan x neighbor!reader word count: 3.4k summary: You’re a little obsessed with your attractive new neighbor. Unfortunately, he’s quite a bit older than you... And your dad's new best friend. content/warnings: non-mutant AU, unspecified age gap, written as x1 Logan, Scott is your dad (sorry), silence of the lambs spoilers???, yearning, tbh yall are as bad as each other, smut a/n: lmao this was supposed to be a drabble 🤷 ty to @ozarkthedog, the most perfect human 🩷

There’s a party roaring outside. As a general rule, your dad doesn’t like to throw parties often, but when he meets the man who’s moving in next door, he announces to you his plan. “Hosting a new neighbor helps to establish a good relationship!” he insists, and that’s that.

You’re sat in the living room, the space dimly lit, nursing a Pabst Blue Ribbon as the glow of your latest Blockbuster rental illuminates your face.

"You even old enough to drink?" comes a voice just outside the door frame. 

You jump, beer sloshing gracelessly down your front. You turn to him, glowering. He’s silhouetted from the hallway and you can’t make out his face. “Yep,” you tell him, “I just have an immaculate skincare routine. Keeps me youthful.”

“So you’re hiding inside… because?”

You shrug. “Just like time to myself.”

He nods, and then strides over. He takes a seat beside you.

“Who are you, exactly?” you frown, looking him up and down.

“You mind?” he asks, smirking as he wiggles the beer you didn’t realize he was holding and nods towards the bottle opener. The audacity.

You glare and grab the bottle opener. He holds his hand out for it, but you withdraw. 

“Logan,” he laughs, “Logan Howlett. I just moved in next door.”

“Oh,” you drop the bottle opener into his hand, remembering your dad’s words. Establish a good relationship. “Oh, yeah, my dad was really excited about the party. Hope you’re enjoying it.”

His eyebrows raise. “Your dad?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “Scott Summers.”

“No shit,” he frowns, “That guy sends a lot of emails.”

“That he does.”

Logan pops his bottle open. “Mind some company?”

“Long as you don’t mind watching Silence of the Lambs starting part way through.”

“Ohhhhh yeah, has he asked for a quid pro quo yet?”

“Aahh, a connoisseur,” you grin, “Yeah, just got past that part. I can rewind–”

“Nah,” he shrugs, “Let it play.”

You watch for a while in silence, but then start chatting again, swapping mundane questions. 

“So, Scott’s your dad, huh?” he asks, after a while.

“He sure is.”

“When he said he had a daughter, I guess I assumed someone younger.”

“Same skincare routine,” you deadpan.

He closes his eyes, holding back a laugh as he shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay,” you laugh, “Yeah, he was still pretty young when I was born.”

“And what about…” he trails off, suddenly realizing tact may be appreciated.

“Dad’s a widower,” you explain simply.

Logan nods. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

You sit in silence for a moment, watching as Lecter is revealed to be wearing the guard’s face.

“How about you?” you ask, “You got a wife? Husband? Girlfriend? Partner?--”

He turns to look at you and you peter off. “Nope.” 

There’s something in the way he’s looking at you. You’re not sure if he’s being suggestive, or if you’re reading into things. Maybe it’s just the reflecting light making his eyes look more provocative than he intends.

Either way, you feel your heartbeat surge and your stomach flip.

You turn away and try to affect nonchalance, try not to be suddenly mesmerized by this unexpected plot twist that is Logan. The movie is wrapping up, Clarice taking Lecter’s call as he pursues Chilton. You try to focus on it, the score, the costumes– but instead you notice the way he smells, musky and a little sweaty. It’s nice. A little dizzying.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Hmm?”

"You have any kids?" you ask, and immediately wonder if you waited too long to carry on the conversation.

"Shit," he snorts and shakes his head, "I hope not."

It takes you off guard. You burst out laughing.

He huffs, lifting the beer to his lips to hide a smile.

The credits begin to roll over the ending scene. 

With the bottle drained, he pats his thighs and stands up. "Alright, kid," he says, "I probably shouldn’t hide in here any longer.”

“My dad appreciates it,” you tell him, “Don’t wanna give him a heart attack when his guest of honor is nowhere to be found, soon to be discovered with his delinquent daughter.”

He picks up his empty and shakes his head, heading back outside. He calls back, “Oh, you’re trouble.”

Now that you’ve met him, you can’t get him out of your mind. 

When you see him again, a couple days later in daylight this time, you have to pick your jaw up off the ground. He’s taller than you realize, and he’s fucking built. And fuck, he’s handsome too. When he sees you, he waves a hand. “Hey Trouble,” he calls, “Keepin’ your nose clean?”

Weeks pass, and, much to your delight (and, admittedly, despair), your dad and Logan become close. 

Sundays become your favorite day. Sunday, you discover, is the day you can see Logan through your window, chopping a seemingly endless stack of firewood. 

One time, he catches you watching. To your utter shock, he winks at you. Knowing your eyes are on him, he lifts the hem of his beater to wipe his brow, and shoots you a shit-eating grin.

You had plans but that doesn’t matter now. All you can do is shove your hand into your panties and rub circles around your throbbing little clit until you cum with a muffled sigh, knowing he’s outside. Knowing there’s not more than a fence and a few feet between you.

Almost every night, his fire pit is alight and you see him reading, or strumming his guitar, or fucking whittling, serene in the smouldering glow, till the fire burns out and the night turns too cool to enjoy.

As the weeks pass, he’s at your house more and more. You wish your heart would stop doing flips whenever you see him on the sofa next to your dad, beer in hand, laughing at some story that’s being recounted.

He says hello to you each time he sees you, and always asks after you when you’re out.

“Oh, Logan says hi,” your dad will say over his morning toast, “Why does he call you Trouble? Tell me you haven’t been besmirching the Summers name?”

“Nah,” you grin, “Just the littlest besmirchment, at worst.”

His eyes narrow.

“C’mon, now, we want to-”

“Establish a good relationship!” you finish, grinning at the way he scowls.

“Smartass.”

“Hey, Trouble,” he’ll greet you, whenever you find him at your home.

“Hey neighbor.”

“You bein’ good?” he’ll ask.

“‘Course not,” you’ll wink, “Where’s the fun in that?”

You love that he calls you Trouble. That he has a name, just for you. It feels like it could almost be something, and so it’s almost enough. 

Before long, what you’d once feared was a one-sided attraction begins to morph into something different. 

It’s a Saturday, and you decide to wear a cute little dress. It’s a flowy thing that hugs all your curves in the very best way, hem barely falling past the curve of your ass.

Your dad just popped out for another six-pack, and you’re in the kitchen, making pasta salad. With your father gone, Logan isn’t subtle in the way he looks at you. You delight in how his eyes linger at the curve of your hip, the swell of your chest. It feels like a victory, the way he grits his jaw a little when you lean forward, cleavage on full display.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ wearing a naughty little dress like that?” Logan asks, scowling.

You raise an eyebrow and try not to let the way your heart starts to flutter affect you. “Thought you’d figured it out on day one – I’m trouble.”

He looks you up and down, his gaze lascivious. It’s the boldness of it. The two of you are alone, and you both know it.

“I think you like it,” you narrow your eyes.

He’s silent for a long moment. Then he lets out a deep breath. 

“God help me, I do.”

“Why don’t you do something about it?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but then you both hear the latch, and the front door swings open.

Logan sits back, pretending as though nothing just happened.

You turn back to your salad.

You can see Logan in the sitting room, right in your line of sight. Your dad sits across from him, his back towards you. 

If you’re honest, you’re not sure exactly what compels you. 

You turn to face Logan, wave for him to catch your eye. He does, quickly, immediately attuned to you. Your dad doesn’t notice the way his eyes follow you. You hold a finger to your lips. His eyes dart between you and your dad, and he tries to focus on whatever his friend is saying to him. 

Slowly, you slip one strap down, and then the other. You can hear Logan’s breath hitch, which he covers almost believably with a gulp of his beer. Shimmying the bodice just a little, you expose your cleavage to near-dangerous depths. He’s grinding his teeth now, and it feels like victory.

Quickly, silently, you slip your top all the way down, exposing your breasts to the cool kitchen air. Your nipples, already hard, tighten. Logan is holding his can so tightly he’s crushing it in his fist. 

“You okay, buddy?” you hear your dad say, and you can practically hear the frown in his voice. In a couple of quick movements, you slip your top back up and turn back to your salad.

“Huh?” Logan asks quickly, and then looks at his beer. “Oh, shit–!” he grumbles, relaxing his grip gingerly.

It’s not till an hour later that your dad stands up and announces, “I’ll be right back, gonna hit the head.”

When he’s gone, Logan bolts up and marches over to you.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” he demands.

You shrug and, not so subtly, glance down at his crotch. You smirk at the way the front is tenting. Logan stares daggers as he adjusts himself, better hiding his hard-on.

“Some of you seems to like it,” you point out.

“Out here? With him here? You want your daddy to kill me?”

“No,” you promise, “No, I just want you to fuck me.”

“Jesus Christ you’re trouble–”

You both hear a toilet flush, and, moments later, footsteps descend on the stairs.

Logan adjusts himself again, and you blow him a kiss as he tromps back to his seat.

It’s a week before you see Logan again. He’s working late this week, apparently. Or maybe he’s just keeping his distance from you.

On Friday night, you debate going out. It’s been a while, and you could use a chance to unwind. But drinks are expensive, and– and you see a fire out your window. Logan sits out by his fire pit.

Without thinking, you put on your shoes.

It’s late, but not too late. Your dad’s on his recliner, game on TV, newspaper in hand.

“You headin’ out, kiddo?” he asks.

“Yep,” you lie, “Meeting a couple friends downtown. They’re picking me up!”

“Stay safe,” he calls after you, “Call me if you need a ride.”

“I will,” you tell him. “Don’t know if I’ll be home tonight. Don’t wait up for me!”

You head out of the house and through your neighbor’s gate. 

Logan is golden, illuminated in the glow of the flames. He’s whittling something, angrily.

You realize then that your entrance has been near-silent on the soft grass. “Uh,” you clear you throat and knock on his fence as you approach him. “Hey, there, neighbor!”

Logan looks up and frowns when he sees you.

“You are makin’ me crazy, Trouble.” he huffs.

“Like, in a good way?” you ask.

He glares at you.

You come closer. “Can I sit?”

Logan budges up, putting down his whittling tools.

“So…” you venture “Am I more trouble than I’m worth?”

Logan scoffs.

“Nah.” he concedes, “I just don’t wanna make things complicated.”

You shrug. “They’re already complicated. You’ve seen my tits.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Goddammit, Trouble. I can’t get you out of my head.”

“They’re great tits,” you shrug.

“They are great tits.” Logan agrees.

The fire is crackling and the night is clear, stars hanging above you. You've been sitting side by side, quiet.

You don’t know what to say. Maybe there isn't anything to say. You’ve been patient, dammit. You just need to leap.

You pull him towards you and he moves without resistance.

He growls into your mouth, a needy animal sound. The scruff of his beard feels nice against your chin and you’re dizzy with his proximity, with his lips on yours.

After an eternity in the space of a single moment, you pull apart.

Logan stares at you, overwhelmed. His eyes are dark, his kiss-glistened lips catching the light as the fire dances. 

He presses the pads of his fingertips against his lips in the aftermath, as though either trying to capture the feeling, or banish it from memory.

Then, after a long moment, he’s on you. His hands grip you, grasp you, trace the shape of your body as though memorizing it by touch alone. 

“Inside. Now.” he growls, “Out here you’re askin’ for your daddy to catch us.”

You’re barely through the door before Logan is tugging at your clothes. You help him pull your top above your head, and you fumble with the button of your jeans as he unhooks his belt and yanks off his beater.

In a matter of moments, you’re both fully bare. His skin is hot against yours as he holds you to him, caging you against the door as he drags his teeth along your shoulder. His hard cock hangs against your thigh, heavy and thick and leaking.

Your clothes trail from the front door to his sofa. You don’t make it any further than that.

You’re a ticking time bomb, a siren, pulling him in, driving him wild. He wants and wants and wants, more than he ever knew he could. So much could be ruined; his friendship with your dad, the scrap of reputation he’s been building, his new life in this new place—

But now his want has turned into a need, and feeling you soft and pliant and oh so willing against him, he’d be a fool to turn back now.

Logan’s gropes at you, fingernails digging into the swell of your ass before cupping your pussy in one large palm. Rubbing up and down your cunt, he smears your wetness around.

“You’re fucking dripping,” he gasps. “Prettiest pussy I’ve seen.” 

Then he dips a finger into you and you groan and clench around it. He fucks you with it, deep, gentle strokes. He wasn’t wrong. As he fucks you with his finger, you feel how unbelievably wet you are. When he pulls back for a moment, you can see his hand is glistening with you, drips going all the way to his wrist.

“I can take more,” you promise, and he growls. 

“Can’t say shit like that,” he pants, “You’re sure you can take more. Can you take me? Don’t wanna hurt–”

“I can take you,” you assure him. If you’re honest, you don’t know if you can. What you do know is that you’re sure as fuck gonna try.

“How do you want me?” he asks, fighting to maintain the last shreds of his self-control.

Ever the masochist, “Want you on top of me, my ankles round your shoulders. Need you deep.”

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

You lay back as he positions himself between your thighs. He presses a kiss to your left thigh before he hikes it over his right shoulder, and a kiss to your right calf, folding you in half.

He strokes the dripping head of his cock against your folds.

“You ready?” he asks, and you whine in desperation, nodding a yes.

He presses in, notching the tip inside. You groan at the sensation, relaxing into it as he rocks his hips gently.

“Doin’ so good,” he praises, “I know, baby, it’s a lot.”

You writhe and moan. It is a lot, but you still want more. More of his cock, of his hands on your body, of his praise.

“Taking it so well,” he soothes, letting his cock slide that little bit deeper inside, pulling most of the way out and driving back in, pressing whispers in your ear as he fucks into you.

When his pelvis is pressed flush against you, he lets out a sigh. 

“Look at that,” he huffs, “Takin’ all of me.”

You look down and watch enraptured as he pulls out and presses back in, deeper than you ever imagined, and rolls his hips, coarse hair grinding against your clit and making you howl.

”Keep making those pretty noises for me, honey.”

”Need more-“ you beg.

He starts rocking his hips, building a solid rhythm. His strokes are deep and devastating, and with every thrust you can feel your wetness start to flood down your thighs and cream around the base of his cock.

The wetter you get, the harder he fucks into you, each plunge punctuated with your cries, of “Yes!”, “More—“, “Please, Logan, please—“

Generous to a fault, he gives you everything you beg for.

The frustration of these longing, pent-up weeks is almost a forgotten memory. As you build towards the peak of your pleasure, the man above you is an animal. He grunts and pants and fucks you deeper than you knew possible. Your whines and cries and demands taper off, replaced by soft moans that start to swell as he litters your collarbone with kisses and rubs a calloused thumb against your clit.

”I’m—“ you warn, struggling to form words, “I’m gonna—“

 “‘M close too,” he grunts, “Give it to me, baby, need to feel you— Please, baby—“

With his words and a firm press to your clit, you come with a sob, cunt squeezing around him in pulsing contractions.

He fucks you through it, muttering a steady stream of filth the whole time. “That’s it, that’s it, fuck you’re gushing, soaking this cock. You feel so fucking good, tight little thing stretched so nice around me, taking it all like you’re made for it—”

Before you can even get over the first climax, the second starts to build. Logan can feel the way your pussy twitches for him, the way your breath shudders as he drives into you with staggering thrusts.

”Gonna cum again, aren’t you?” He growls. “Good-“ a thrust, “fucking—“, thrust, “girl—“ thrust, “Just can’t get enough of this cock, can you?”

You try to answer, but all that comes out is a cry as another orgasm overtakes you.

"That’s it,” the praises, still punctuating every word with a thrust, “That’s it! Let yourself feel it, let yourself feel good—"

You do, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. It’s overwhelming, the way it tears through you with no end in sight.

When he finally pulls out of you, you start to come back to yourself, your life-changing orgasm starting to wane.

He’s beautiful above you, covered in sweat, your wetness dripping down his thighs as he strokes his creamy cock.

With a groan, he comes on your stomach. You wrap your hand around his, stroking him gently till every drop is spent.

You make room for him on the sofa, uncaring that both of you are covered in sweat and fluids, and pull him down to rest in your arms.

"Fuck—" he exhales, and finally turns to face you again.

You stroke your fingers through your mussed hair.

"I knew you were trouble,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your sternum.

There are so many things you’ll need to talk about, to work through. You are neighbors, after all, and you can’t do something like this without there being an aftermath.

But whatever is next can wait till morning.

Gently, he pulls himself up, and you with him. Holding each other close, you head to his bedroom. Without a word, you lay together, curled up in one another’s embrace.

He’s silent a long moment before speaking. "Is your daddy expecting you home tonight?” He asks. Neither of you want to think about that.

But thankfully, “No,” you tell him. “Told him not to wait up.”

"Oh, optimistic, were we?” He teases, and you look him up and down. His broad shoulders, sculpted chest, dark eyes, rumpled hair. This man you’ve grown so very fond of. 

“Yes,” you smile. “Yes, we are.”

Scott finds out, like, a day later and declares Logan his sworn enemy

[kissitbttr]

omg I am in LOVEE with frat!miguel and cheerleader reader 🙏💕 I was picturing reader somehow getting injured at one of Miguel’s games (maybe a player slams into her or she hits her head), and him literally RUSHING off of the field to help her and people are shocked to see him getting so soft!!!! Ofc, this could be the other way around too, but soft!miguel would be such a shock, especially considering his reputation, and so cute to see 🥲🤲 Xoxo

“y/n watch out!”

your cheer mate scream at you with eyes wide, and before you could turn around, someone else’s bigger physique crashes into you. causing your body to fall and your head lands into the ground with a loud thud,

the audience let out a collective of gasps and surprised, worrying about the small girl getting concussed by the large linebacker who hurriedly get on his feet before spitting countless of apologies,

but nothing compares to how miguel reacts when he sees his girl falls,

his blood runs cold, aggressively taking off his helmet and let it fall into the grass before sprinting towards you in full speed,

“muñeca !!” he screams, voice filled with worried while ignoring the coach calling out his last name. as the rest of the team begins to exchange glances, wondering what the fuck happened to miguel.

because he’s never been the one to leave his position in any circumstances. football means a lot to him, he lives and breathe football.

so to see him completely dismissing the game is a shock to the rest,

“f-fuck i’m so sorry, i didn’t—“

“what the actual fuck was that?!” miguel roars once he gets to see you close, but his angry eyes move towards the guy who just crashed into you. his big hands violently shove the man out of your sight,

“didn’t you fucking hear the rules?! this area is off limits! there’s a line drawn here el hijo de puta!!”

“the fuck?! the ball was—“

“i don’t give a fuck if the ball went through here!! you leave it as it is!! someone could get seriously injured! you want someone to fucking die or something?!”

the team has never seen miguel so angry and red, it’s almost like miguel could actually snap that man’s neck in half. his eyes are filled with vengeance as he continues to call the guy names for hurting you,

beck’s face goes pale. “oh fuck” he mutters, jogging towards miguel and hurriedly put a space in between them. “okay okay, man! easy, easy! don’t start a fight, need me to remind you what happened to chuck last year?!”

beck searches for any significant changes on miguel’s face. heavy breathing combines with a deadly look on his expression before he shakes his head,

“okay good. let me take care of this and go to your girl. she’s still hurt” he pats on miguel’s shoulder pad before he walks off,

miguel is still burning with anger but that soon subsides when he hears you call out his name,

“miggy?”

he never turns around so quickly, bending down to your level as his arms begin to cradle your fragile body before pulling you close. “you good, baby?” his voice is now gentle and soft. “let me see”

his fingers move underneath your chin, gently tilting it back and winces when he sees a small scar across your forehead.

“dizzy?” he asks, you nod in response, hand holding your head. he then looks up to one of your cheer mates,

“get a medic, now!” he yells out, putting your head against his chest so you can rest comfortably,

“o’hara! get back here, game isn’t over!” his coach yells angrily

“i’m not moving until my girl is taken care of! go get someone off the bench to replace me if you have to!” he responds by looking over his shoulder for a moment

the coach’s shoulders slump, brows dipping into a frown as he shakes his head. “the fuck? this kid—“ he grumbles before turning around,

glen nudges beck’s side with his elbow, looking as confused as the rest.

“I don’t get it. he never asks someone to replace him. not even when his knee was busted.”

beck looks over at the two of you, watching how miguel intently taking care of your injured self.

“yeah, I don’t get it, either” beck mutters but with a small smile. seeing how his best friend completely fallen for you was definitely not on his bingo card. it’s a good change, he supposed,

he’s never been this in love with his previous girlfriends. not dana nor xina. you’re pretty much the first. he guesses, you must be the one for him,

beck gets it. he does.

[jeyneofpoole]

asoiaf dash simulator again

🌼 night-of-flowerz-girl

the blatant misinformation on this waebsyte is crazyyyy. guys. loras tyrell is NOT DEAD that is literally lannister propaganda 😭 please check your sources omg how do you think his family feels???

🛡️ fieldmaiden

margaery tyrell can dry her tears on the finest cloth of gold for all i care have we not established that the tyrells are smallfolk panderers who only talk about serf issues to keep us placated and working their fields? stand UP. anyways tyrelloverparty forever hope the burns hurt 🙏

🍃 greenseeeerr

omfg stop lusting after the children of the forest they are literally minor coded 😭😭😭 what is wrong with you people!!!!!

💄 andalsandal

hey op what the fuck does this mean

🐻 moremont

me and my big hairy bear husband have three beautiful daughters and i couldn’t be happier

🐻 moremont

THE ANIMAL.

⚡️dondarriugh

omfg beric is DEAD??????

⚡️ dondarriugh

ok there are some conflicting reports in my inbox hold on

⚡️ dondarriugh

oh no he’s actually dead. fly high king!!!!!

⚡️ dondarriugh

wait what????

⚡️ dondarriugh

WHAT IS HAPPENING

⛳️ brotherhood-without-banners-official

Lord Dondarrion is hale and hearty, thanks be to the Lord of Light ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

⚡️ dondarriugh

HELLO??????

🛖 small-folk-big-ass

save me bowl of brown…… bowl of brown…… bowl of brown save me…….

🛖 small-folk-big-ass

hopital

🐉 rhaeeenyraaa

the revisionist history on here is fucking insaneeeee. cersei lannister is NOT maegor come again guys let’s use our critical thinking skills ok?????

🚬 sourleef

cersei lannister is a nepo baby who dicks down her twin brother on the regular and squeezes out evil kids with weak jawlines like it’s a sport. let’s not act like she’s some kind of win for wench suffrage she’s a fucking dictatorial monarch

🍁 weirdwood

wait don’t you mean her twin brother is dicking her down?????

🚬 sourleef

i know what i said.

🐕 ramsay-bitch-imagines

IMAGINE…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re Ramsay’s favorite dog, and he wants to reward you after a successful hunt.

WARNING: DEAD DRAGON DO NOT EAT!!!!!DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ!!!!

Read More

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🐋 s4ltw1fe

who’s going to tell lady asha that she doesn’t have to date those foppish little boys as community service. don’t worry queen EYE see your caerybaenor……

👤 reynesofcastamere-deactivated-3738372920

lmao that blonde little cuck is NOT getting his gold back

👤 tarbeckhall-deactivated-4748392038383

we should hook up for rebellion lol. what’s he even gonna do about it?

🦁 hear-me-roar

hey guys.

🧼 barmaid

oh my god this is THE post

🍺 pintofale

holy shit i never thought i’d see this outside of illuminated vellum screenshots

🪡 tall-tailor

this post is a fucking graveyard

[starkeysbunny]

Omg I started reading your fics and I fell in love😭

I wanted to request a Rafe x reader (angst) where like she's Kiara older sister but she dies instead of JJ, and its all angst and something like that 🥲

(its okay if you don't want to write this!💋)

Love you!!! 💓

𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘆 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲 [𝗿𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗼𝗻]

first request yay !! i’m new to writing on tumblr, so here’s my first one! excited to do more <33

pairing - rafe x pogue!carrera!reader

warnings - angst, hurt, sad asf, reliving jj’s death but plot twist it’s you this time, cursing, death

summary - ask above ↑ you’re kiara’s older sister. (rafe’s age gap to sarah is what i imagined!). when you’re in morocco on a dangerous trip to help your friend jj get answers, everything goes terribly wrong. in a last stitch effort to save your best friend and sister, you end up clinging for life in your boyfriend’s arms with your friends beside you.

i can’t see anything. my arm covers over my eyes as dust blows in every direction. the hot air coats my skin covered by cloth.

“rafe!” i shout, trying to see, trying to find him. he ran off with john b and sarah. and now, i couldn’t find him.

that’s when i see my sister, and jj.

i stand back, dodging behind a wall so groff wouldn’t see me. my hand covers my mouth in shock as i see groff holding a knife to my sisters neck. “shit.” i mutter.

“give me the crown, and you can have the girl.” groff says, sticking his arm out gingerly, while holding kiara close to his chest.

“okay, okay, you can have it. just give me kiara.” jj says, raising his hands in defense.

i try to watch through the dusty sandstorm as jj reluctantly and carefully trades the crown for kiara. they both switch hands at the same time, kiara collapsing in jj’s arms.

groff holds the crown to his chest, a sick smirk on his face. his eyes flick to the knife in his hand, then back at jj.

no. no. no.

before i can even think, my feet are moving before my mind could. through the blazing heat and thick sand storm, i move blindly. going in the direction of kie and jj, i slot myself between jj and groff.

i gasp, my hand coming to my stomach. my eyes are locked onto groff’s and he raises his eyes in surprise.

“y/n!” i hear the desperate pleas of my sister fade into blurry obscurity. i couldn’t recount every moment after that. it was all a blur of pain.

my breathing is heavy, but fast. kiara had propped me up against a weak wooden pillar.

“y/n! it’s gonna—gonna be okay? okay?” kie says, her voice shaking. i could barely hear her over the roaring winds around us. jj was kneeling next to kie in front of me. he wasn’t saying a word. he was in shock, staring at the blood beginning to stain the moroccan cloth clothing cleo stole for all of us.

the blood that was supposed to coming from his own abdomen, was now instead, on his hands. i furrow my eyebrows at him, silently pleading for him to not feel guilty. i shake my head.

“it’s okay.” i whisper weakly.

jj’s eyes were full of guilt, regret, and anger. this would kill him. the survivors guilt. and i knew kiara would be fueled by anger and revenge.

after everything we went through on this trip, to get here. to save jj’s family legacy. to get him answers. and to save what was rightfully ours on kildare, the surf shop.

instead of leaving in riches, smiles on our faces—i would never leave. and my friends would all leave with vengeance in their hearts, and no place to go home to.

as i think about my friends, all the pogues—my mind goes to my boyfriend. the one kook with us. and suddenly, my heart is ripped in two.

my eyes immediately meet jj’s. weakly, i plead. “find rafe. please.”

jj nods firmly without a second’s thought. he stands, pulling the bandana over his nose and finding rafe.

“kie.” i whisper, my voice weak as my lip quivers. i look at my sister who’s hands were pressing harshly against my stomach, trying to stop the bleeding.

“no, no it’s fine—you’re fine!” she exclaims as tears violently and rapidly soar down her cheeks.

“hey.” i say, getting her attention.

finally, her glassy eyes move from my stomach to my face, a sob escaping her lips.

“i love you, kie, okay?” i sniffle. “save a seat for me at the maybank wedding, hm?” i tease with a weak chuckle.

“shut up.” she says through gritted teeth, hot tears never stopping. “i won’t have to. cause you’ll be there. cause you’re my sister-you-you’re supposed to be there.”

“okay.” i whisper with a weak nod.

she presses her lips together, closing her eyes. she hears the agreement and compromise in my single word response because, i didn’t want to argue. even if it was a stupid, little argument about her adamance of my survival. my last moments with my sister couldn’t be ended in trivial bicker.

“i love you too.” she whispers.

“y/n?!”

i look up, seeing rafe rushing toward us with an urgency i’ve never noticed him have before. jj trailed behind, john b, sarah, cleo, and pope following suit.

“baby.” rafe whispers. he kneels next to me, moving my body slightly so my back laid against his chest. kie still knelt in front of me, her hands holding pressure on my stomach.

i tilt my head back slightly as i look up at rafe. “hi.” i whisper weakly.

he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, shaking his head. “no. no, no, you’re not goin’ anywhere, alright? we-we’ve talked about this. you can’t go before i do.”

“tell that to groff.” i wince, groaning as i lean against him. “fuck.” i mutter in pain.

“i’m gonna fuckin’ kill that bitch.” rafe spits. i look up at him, and see tears falling down his cheeks.

my hand weakly reaches up, pulling down the bandana from his nose. “hey.” i whisper softly, my touch gentle as my thumb wipes his tears. “i’m gonna be fine.”

my eyes dart down at my sister. “right, kie?”

her lip quivers violently, she presses harder against my stomach. then, her eyes look up at rafe.

even though my sister and all of my friends hate rafe—they understand. they see how much he cares about me. ever since we started dating, parts of them had grown slightly tolerant to him. because when he’s around me, he’s a little nicer. a little sweeter.

and they know that even if they don’t trust him, i do. and rafe has shown it time and time again. that he cares about me. for real.

“yeah, rafe.” she whispers, her voice shaking. “she’s gonna be fine.” kie says, but i don’t even think she believes the words anymore.

“y/n…” john b says, his lips gaping open. sarah stood beside him, her hand covering her mouth. “oh-oh my god.”

“no, no.” rafe snaps. “don’t say that!” his voice is firm and sharp. “she’s gone be fine! go get help don’t just stand there and gasp—“

“hey, hey.” i say softly, my hand brushing against his cheek. “stop.” i whisper.

john b nods. “no, he’s right. we-we’ll go find help.” john b grabs sarah’s hand as they run off, searching for help. pope looks back reluctantly, but i nod at him. both him and cleo follow to find help. but there was no one for miles. we were screwed.

“you can’t leave me, alright?” rafe gasps, his voice breaking. “everyone else in my life, they always fuckin’ screw me over. yo-you’re the only one i can trust.”

his lip quivers and he leans down, pressing open mouthed kisses to my forehead. “please, baby. you’re all i have, y-you’re everything. c’mon, you-you remember, right?” he sniffles, pulling back and looking down at me.

my eyebrows furrow as i look up at him weakly, letting him continue.

“we gotta buy that house. t-the white one, with the blue shutters on the marsh.” he sniffles. “and you can get all the fuckin’ cats, dogs, bunnies, whatever you want—“

i chuckle softly, clutching my stomach from the pain the laugh causes. rafe and i had been together for about eight months. we’ve talked about moving in together. and there’s this house, on the marsh on figure eight. my dream house. rafe and i always would talk about it and make up scenarios of our future together.

one of them, involved him and i in the backyard of the house as i tend to our many pets. he groaned in annoyance the first time i mentioned it. but, i guess he secretly loved it. he’d do anything for me. anything i wanted, he’d make sure i had it.

“yeah, baby. all the pets. a-and then, i gotta make you mrs. cameron. okay? s-so don’t even think about leavin’ alright? we have so much more-more to do, please.” he begs through shallow cries and gasps.

“okay.” my eyes slowly blink up at him. i weakly bring my hand up, sticking out my pinky. “we’ll have the house, all the pets, and i’ll be mrs. cameron. pinky promise.”

he presses his lips together as a particularly rough sob threatens to escape. his hand comes to mine, his pinky latching on. “pinky promise.” he whispers.

i smile softly at him, then slowly turn my head to kie. “i love you.” i whisper to her.

she nods firmly. “i know. i love you too.”

then, my eyes turn to jj. “it’s not your fault.” i weakly whisper. “thank you, j. for being my best friend. you’re really good at that.” my voice breaks. “p4l?” i chuckle softly.

jj smiles as tears fall down his cheeks. “p4l.” he repeats.

“and, if you break my sisters heart—i’ll haunt you or some shit.” i weakly chuckle. jj grins, a laugh slipping from his lips. his hand comes up, rough knuckles wiping at his tears, he nods. “got it.” he whispers.

i look back up at rafe, leaning further into him, my hand coming up to rest against his chest. “i love you.”

“i know. i love you more. i got you.” he whispers, his voice a ghost now from how low and shaken it is. he presses a kiss to my hair, holding me impossibly close.

i didn’t want to die. but, as my body grew weak, my eyes wanted to close. i just wanted to go to sleep. and part of me hoped that, if i went to sleep, i’d wake up in a few hours magically, in a hospital bed.

maybe john b, sarah, pope, and cleo found help. maybe it’ll be okay.

but if not, i’m okay with that too. i got to go with my favorite people. kiara, my sister. jj, my best friend. and rafe, the love of my life.

as my eyes begin to flutter shut, i take in rafe’s features one last time. my gaze brushes over his blue eyes, the curve of his nose. down to the shadow of his cheekbones, and the purse of his lips that i had gotten the luck to kiss so many times.

i said everything i could’ve possibly wanted to say. i got to die, with the people i loved most in the world. i was okay.

and hopefully, in a few hours, i’d wake up. and get to live a long life with all of them.

but for now, i was going to sleep.

—

damn yall that was sad asf. making me relive jj’s death 😞 hope u enjoyed !! thx for the request lovies !! <3

[tokkiwrites]

summary: you are staying with your aunt this summer. she loves talking you to places only she enjoys, so when your night together was becoming increasingly irritating, a handsome stranger shows you that jazz clubs aren't so bad.

tags: pwp, old man logan, human logan, age gap, mention of divorce, afab reader, sex with a stranger, sex in a public space, p in v unprotected (that's spooky!! don't do it), creampie, dirty talk, a few pet names, sir kink, a little breeding kink (for like a line).

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ happy spookytokki kinktober!! I'm kicking this off with a logan fic because i can't be stopped. this is around 3.1k words, so i hope you enjoy it. omg, my 2nd kinktober guys, yeppeee. IF YOU SEE ANY TYPOS NO U DIDN'T

The people here don’t rush—they settle. its something you had to learn the hard way, now that your parents left you with your aunt for the summer. She enjoyed the finer things in life, like pearls that had to sit perfectly, right above her clavicle, aged whiskey with no ice in it, and jazz clubs.

"Oh, I wish I grew up during those times... the roaring twenties. Everything was much more sophisticated andㅡ what's that word..? oh, polished." she went on. "Yeah, and more racist." you perk up. "Young lady! Your dad left you with me so you can straighten your act up. Now you speak when I tell you to." her voice was stern.

"Oh, now I truly feel like I'm in the 1920s, next up, my lobotomy!" you say with a strained smile whilst doing the infamous 'jazz hands'. By the time you finish, your aunt is red in the face, and it wasn't from the absurd ammount of rouge she had on. You clear out your throat and get up from the table. "I'll go use the washroom. Sorryㅡ" the woman scoffs as you turn around and leave "We'll talk about this home."

holding in your giggles, you swiftly make your way to the bathroom, finally letting go of the laughs you were keeping down as you close the door behind you. you didn’t hate your aunt, you hated that she tried to be something she wasn't; those pearls were not 'swanky originals' as she would say when people asked, but a $7 gift from her cheating, ex-husband. then again, maybe that why she felt the need to create this persona when others are around. and maybe that's why your parents sent you away from home, as to not hear about their inevitable divorce. it's not like you were a child. you were their child, but an adult nonetheless. alas, you were 22, stuck in a jazz club with your divorcee aunt, laughing all on your own.

well, almost.

"What's so funny, young lady?" what. the. fuck. why is there a man in the woman’s bathroom? and why is he talking to you? "Excuse me, old man, this is theㅡ" you raise your voice, and you turn around to face him but the words get stuck in your throat as you lay eyes on him. he was stunning, incredibly handsomeㅡ to say the least. His dark hair, streaked with the slightest touch of silver at the temples, was slicked back with utmost precision. A neatly trimmed beard framed his strong jawline, the salt-and-pepper strands giving him a distinguished air, as if life had brushed him with just the right amount of experience without taking away any of his vitality. His eyes, a deep, knowing hue, carried the weight of someone who had seen the world, yet still found wonder in it.

"Lady? Hey, 'r you okay?" he pulls you out of your trance. "What, oh- I, yeah! What are you doing in the ladies room?" you finally speak up again and he raises one of his brows before questioning you again. "You sure? 'm pretty positive the door distinctly said 'mens room' then againㅡ" he point to the sign printed on the door "I'm just an old man, so you might be right." oh, how you regret calling him that. even though he was oldㅡ not the old you meant when you said it. with your face scrunched up you turn around and read the sign.

fuck.

"What's it say, sweetheart?" he prys as you let out a defeated sigh. "mens room.." you reply. "what's that? sorry, I'm so old I can barely hear ya." you ball up your fists in embarrassment and say it louder. "mens room."

"Yeah...mens room." you can hear the sound of his footsteps coming closer from behind you. His voice was low, teasing, the kind that sent shivers down your spine despite your frustration. You could feel him standing behind you now, the warmth of his presence far too close for comfort. His breath brushed against the back of your neck, and you bit down on your lip to suppress the strange rush of nerves rising in your chest.

"Looks like you wandered in here by mistake," he said, voice smooth and almost amused. "But I won't hold it against you. Happens to the best of us, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. There it was again, the casual endearment that somehow made your skin prickle. You turned around to face him once more, trying to muster some semblance of composure, though it was nearly impossible with him standing near you. Up close, he was even more disarming, his gaze sharp yet somehow warm, like he was in on some private joke you hadn’t quite caught on to yet.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry," he cut you off, one corner of his mouth lifting into a crooked smile that sent your pulse racing. "No harm done. Besides, it’s not every day I get to have a conversation this... interesting in a bathroom." he motions his hands around.

"I didn’t mean to call you old. That was... uncalled for."

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through the air between you. "Don't sweat it. I've been called worse, trust me. Besides, a little gray never hurt anyone, right?" He ran a hand through his hair, almost like he was flaunting it, as if daring you to disagree.

You found yourself at a loss for words again, caught between wanting to melt into the floor and the strange, undeniable attraction pulling you toward him. a little gray never hurt, indeed. "So," he continued, breaking the silence as his gaze roamed over your flustered expression. "What’s a lady like you doing in a men's room anyway? Trying to stir up trouble?"

You rolled your eyes, finally finding your footing again, and crossed your arms over your chest. "I could ask you the same thing, considering you're not exactly rushing me out of here."

"Maybe I’m just enjoying the company," he said, his voice dropping just a bit lower, sending a flutter through your stomach. "Or maybe I’m just waiting to see if you figure out how to get out of this mess." the man takes a step closer. Before you could stop yourself, you let out a small laugh. "You really are full of yourself, aren't you?"

"Maybe," he replied, stepping even closer, his voice now barely more than a murmur. "But you're still standing here, aren't you?" his palm now sitting on the small of your back, and it feels like you've been waiting for this your whole life. it was disarming, intoxicating—how effortlessly he touched you, as if he’d always known you, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady the pounding in your chest, but the way he looked at you made it impossible. His eyes, deep and piercing, held you in place, like they were pulling you into some unspoken dance, something wild and unnamed.

"Not saying much now, are you, sweetheart?" he whispered, his lips so close to your ear you could feel the heat of his breath. His fingers splayed ever so slightly against your back, and you swore you could feel your pulse thrum beneath his touch, like a melody. You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. Every nerve in your body was screaming at you to moveㅡ to break away from him this instant, but your feet were rooted to the spot.

"I'mㅡ" you tried to speak but your voice betrayed you. The curve of his mouth shifted into a slow, devilish smile as his hand slid a fraction lower, just above your hip, a silent invitation pulling you nearer.

"See?" His voice was like velvet, wrapping around you. "Maybe you didn’t wander in here by accident after all." he tuts. "Your daddy was right, you do need straightening up, sweet thing."

"Y-You know my dad?" and he can only chuckle. "I don’t, baby," he drawled, "But that little fight you had with your aunt a few minutes ago? Well, it was heard by more ears than you think." You’d thought your quarrel was contained, tucked away in a corner where no one could witness the messy unraveling of your family drama. But apparently, you were wrong—so very wrong.

"I-It wasn't really a fight.." you huff, trying to fight the growing warmth in your core. "Right, you were just being a brat. I got that, too." your eyes find his again, heart plummeting into your chest. "I'm good with brats." god, how wrong it all felt, yet you couldn't find a way. you didn't want a way out. your aunt was waiting, but you were dripping with arousal in the arms of an older man who was a complete strangerㅡ not to forget you were in the bathroom of a bar, where anyone could walk in on you at any moment. but was it so wrong to want what's wrong?

"So...You gonna let me teach you some manners, young lady?" The words hang between you, igniting something you couldn’t name , but you felt it, burning, spreading. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. No, you didn’t want to care. you felt drawn, tethered to him by something far more primal, more consuming. The risk, the recklessness—it was intoxicating. You couldn’t deny the hunger that twisted in your belly, the way your body leaned into his touch despite the alarm bells ringing faintly in the back of your mind. Maybe you’d always been waiting for something, or someone, to break you out of the mold you were supposed to fit into.

"You're thinking too much, sweetheart," he teases, his voice low and rough, sending warmth coursing through you. "Just let go. You know you want to."

The last piece of resistance crumbles. You don't want to fight anymore. You want to see where this will go, consequences be damned. You want the wildness, the chaos, the thrill of stepping outside the boundaries you've always kept yourself within.

Without thinking, you tilt your head up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of defiance and submission. His eyes darken, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he's won some battle. "Good girl," he breathes, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. The contact sends sparks through you, and your skin burns where he touches.

"Can you at least...tell me your name? please?" You’re caught in this moment, teetering on the edge of something dangerous, and part of you needs to know who has you under their spell.

"My name’s Logan, sweet thing," he says, the name rolling off his tongue with a rough edge, like it holds more than he’s letting on. His fingers trail lightly along your shoulder and down to your cleavage, the contact making your breath hitch. "But you won’t be needing it for now," he adds. "You'll be calling be sir. Understand?" whatever happens next, you're no longer in control so you nod your head eagerly, but he isn't satisfied. "Speak, girl."

"Yes, sir." you force the words out. The moment you say it, you feel the world tilt, like something has shifted between you, pulling you further into the depths of whatever this is. The man's lips curl into a smile yet again, he reaches behind you and you close your eyes. you hear a faint click and then a soft chuckle. "Let's hope no one gets a hold of the key, wouldn't want anyone to interrupt our time here, unlessㅡ" your cheeks heat up, your thighs now pressed further together. "You'd like us to get caught, huh? Dirty girl." those last words send your head spinning and you swear you could come just from his voice alone. you never thought you'd be in a situation like this, but deep down, you wished someone just walked through that door only to see you splayed out under Logan.

without any hesitation, he spins both of you so that you are facing the large golden mirror above the counter. Logan groans, rolling his shoulders back as he bends you over the sink, your hips snug in his grip. "God, you're so fucking gorgeous, baby."

"Thank you, sir." this earns you a tug at the hair, his face right in the crook of your neck. "Say that again, baby." and you do. even if to you he's just a stranger, the need to obey him burns at your insides. you can feel his hard-on rubbing against your ass, so you press up against him making logan hiss. "You getting cocky, miss? Or are you just that excited for an old man to fuck you?"

you look down. "Please.." The man shakes his head and lands a hard smack on one of your asscheeks, making you yelp in the process. He takes his time pulling up your almost see-through dress, finally taking a look at your soaking panties that were barely covering anything. His calloused thumb makes contact with your clothed folds, dragging it up and down, in painfully slow circles. Without a warning, you hear the material rip and feel the flimsy undergarments fall on the cold tiled floor. "Pretty pussy." he mutters under his breath, undoing his trousers. he pulls them a bit down, enough for his manhood to spring free and slap against his covered bellybutton. you can see it all in the mirrorㅡ it's huge. you gasp softly as you feel him drag the tip of it against your swollen bud, and you hide your gaze, head hanging low. this doesn't last long, as you feel his rough palm grab at your face and pulling it up again. you're making eye contact with him through the mirror and you see him shake his head. "No, no. You watch while I fuck you, understand?" you shake your head, agreeing, but that isn't good enough so he slaps your cheek with the back of his hand, lightly. "Words, baby, words."

"Yes, sir." he drags the pulsing tip up and down, up and down as if he didn't make you wait long enough, turning you into a whining messㅡ truthfully you never wanted it to end, so maybe him teasing was his way of making sure this lasts. after he thinks its sufficient, logan starts to push inside, and godㅡ your breath gets stuck into your throat, from the feeling laden with thorns; every prick of discomfort is countered by an unexpected surge of delight. Your tears fall down onto the surface under you, little moans gripping your throat as he slips inside further. "You're okay, baby, you're okay. C'monㅡ" he assures you, asking you to surrender. "Take it all- there we go.." he praises, lifting your hips a bit to get a better angle. Logan moves gently at first, each stroke hitting deeper within your core, the pain soon converging with ecstasy right as he alerts his movements.

his hips dive down with force, one of his palms snaking up and wrapping itself tightly around your throat, assuring you see how good he's destroying you. your head was spinning, heart pounding, as his whole weight dominated over you. "That's it, baby, knew you could take it." his thrusts are rough, each hit making your body bounce, the urgency as he hit that very spot each timeㅡ your whole insides burning, too cock drunk to talk or respond, other than some pathetic whines that perfectly accompanied the wet sounds your pussy made wrapped around Logan. "Fuckㅡ sir, please.." you manage. pulling at your hair he starts "What if your sweet aunt walked in just now, huh? What ifㅡ fuck! What if she saw how good you take this cock? Yeah, nice and deep, there ya go, baby, there ya go." while thrusting relentlessly into you, your legs barely holding up anymore.

Feeling you tightening, the hand that was around your throat slips down to your clit, while the other makes you spread your legs wide again for easier access, giving you a chance to take in a big gasp of air. "want me to breed this pussy, huh? feel you up with my babies? let people inside this room, let them see your pussy filled with my come- you want that?" the room spins around you, body floating as if ready to plummet back down, you try your best to reply. "yes, yes- please, please, sir, I'mㅡ"

"Go ahead." the man succeeded to say, between his breathy groans. "Thank you, thank you, oh god, thank you so much, sir!" you say as if praying to him whilst he keeps fucking into you. The man buries himself into you as you come down from your high, body almost too limp to register your surroundings. he slaps your ass, and watches you writhe under him. With a few more snaps of his hips you know he's close, nails digging roughly into your skin as he finally paints your walls with white ropes. "God fucking dammit!" you know that you'll be bruised tomorrow.

the bathroom feels sticky, and the mirror in front of you is all fogged up, but you can just barely make out your face, all tearstained and messy. You moan as he pulls out, the sudden feeling of emptiness leaving you shivering. Logan watches intently as his seed drips out of you, your body beautifully splayed out right under him. You squeeze around nothing, licking your lips, as you feel the warm beads of come trickling from inside of you, down your thighs. you're both quiet for a bit, catching your breaths. you feel like you are floating.

The sounds of the world fade away, leaving just the echo of your heartbeats. The weight of what just happened presses down on you both, thick and suffocating as you exchange glances through the mirror. Finally, you break the silence. “What do we do now?” The realization sinks in. What's done is done. "We clean you up and pray no one heard anything, baby." Logan laughs reassuringly, sensing the uncertainty in your voice.

maybe jazz clubs nights with your aunt aren't so bad after all.

[starscabaret]

Omg, I love yandere cowboy!! I’ll call him David cause the name Lane reminds me of someoneDavid x a chubby reader? You said he’s careful with the reader but at the same time he’s really strong, right? So, he is kinda rough with her while they make love. Him thinking you being chubby you can take it better. At first it hurts a lot but reader gets used to it and even enjoys it

Cowboy Yandere! Lane  x Chubby Fem Reader  ✧.*

pairing :  yandere! lane x chubby fem reader

summary :  quick drabble to this ask, started this last night, edited the best I could. 

authors note : im still alive just busy with college but, im always happy to answer ask if I have time I am more motivated to write if I know itll bring someone joy, please give me feedback on this, it was a biggg task

warnings : nsfw, teasing, first-time having sex, fingering, slight argument, PIV sex, daddy kink, breeding, mating press, etc

You and Lane had been on a few dates ever since he saw you at your local honky tonk bar, on the county line. Since then you two had been almost inseparable, very much due to Lane’s unabashed obsession with you. He took you on dates very often and spent as much time with you as you allowed when he wasn’t working. He was courting you, yes, but you’d never had anyone lay it on so strong. It was bliss, having someone be all about you, especially your favorite cowboy. Lane insisted on you being his “ol lady” after your first date, but you wanted to give it time, and for you, he yielded… for now. 

With no date or plans with your cowboy arranged for the day, you set out downtown for a day of antique shopping and sweet treats. As you are leaving an ice cream shop, a man stops you.

“Hey Miss, where’d you get the ice cream, I can’t find the place?” the kind stranger asks.

And just as you begin to answer him, you hear an all too familiar roar and hum. 

“Y/N ! Get your little ass in this truck now.” Lane shouts from the window of his truck as pulls up beside you and the man. 

Embarrassed by his outburst you turn to the man, “Two shops down, sorry about that sir, have a good day!” you rush out, running over to the passenger side of Lane’s truck cone in hand. 

As you get in slamming the door, you glare at him before he can even speak, “Lane have you lost your damn mind? Screaming and cursing at me in public!?”

“No, I think YOU have lost your damn mind, you know I don’t like it when you curse little lady, and more importantly who the hell was that guy?” he shoots back at you as he darts off down the road to God knows where. 

“Are you serious right now? Just some fucking guy asking where I got the ice cream from.” you roll your eyes at his possessiveness.

“Serious as a heart attack, sweetheart. Now eat it before it melts,” he commands.

“I thought you had business to take care of today, Lane?” you ask accusingly.

“Did, it’s taken care of now. You are coming to my house; I’m making you supper.” he states.

“Ugh you Brute, didn’t ask, didn’t call or text, you’re lucky I walked downtown.” you sigh out irritated. 

The rest of the ride to Lane’s house was a quiet one as you both brewed in your thoughts and slight irritation with one another. You’d been to his home before, when he took you on a scenic walk and picnic around the property for a date and tried to convince you to move in. 

Once you had arrived and settled in Lane spoke up, “Go in the master bedroom and wash up so you can help me please doll face.”

Once you entered his bedroom, you breathed in deeply, it smelled completely of him, of his manly musky scent that drove you crazy. 

Making your way to his bathroom sink you begin washing your hands, it is not long after that Lane’s tall form is pressed against your plump backside. 

“Hi, honeybee,” he spoke as he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“Hi Lane.” you purred as you leaned into him.

“Come sit with me on the bed, we have time.” he spoke as he took your hand guiding you back into his neat and rustic bedroom. 

Sitting you on his lap he begins to kiss all over your face and down to your neck. Your hands move to wrap around his neck and steady yourself.  

His lips meet yours as his hand presses at the back of your head, as you launch into a searing kiss. Tongues down one another’s throat, as you suck and caress each other’s tongue with urgency. 

The kiss creates a warmth in your core, like everything else about him. You could be embarrassed but it is impossible to not feel him hardening beneath your thighs, letting you know he feels the same. 

He reluctantly pulls away from the kiss to stare you in the eyes, as you both attempt to catch your breath. 

He moves his hands down your body to grope and fondle all of your curves with stars in his eyes. 

“Gorgeous girl,” he murmurs. 

He is so entranced by looking at and squeezing your body, that your moans sound like white noise to him. He also doesn’t notice the dampness caused by your pussy crying for him. Or the darkening spot on the zipper of his blue jeans where his tip began to leak precum. 

What he does notice is you, taking off your top. You’re not sure what urged you to do so. Perhaps it was wanting to show yourself off even more, to make him physically drool over you. 

“Aww sweet girl, getting undressed for me? You want me to see more of your pretty self?” he asks as he continues his hands-on exploration of your body.  

“Ugh yes.” you moan out at his teasing praise.  

“Well let me help,” he says as he stands you both up.  

Before you can move to unbutton your skirt, he is on his knees in front of you, face buried in your soft pudgy tummy, as his fingers knead at the fat. He pecks away the skin as he unbuttons and pulls your skirt down.  

The second your skirt is down, and you are left in your underwear and bra, you expect his eyes to fall on your pussy clad with embarrassingly wet panties, but they don’t, his eyes and hands launch to the fat of your thighs. 

“Pretty, thick thing huh? Just perfect for me, aren’t ya?” he asks as his hands run up and down your legs stopping to grope the fat of your ass cheeks and around your hips.

Dumbfounded, you don’t respond, you just continue to stare down at his handsome face in awe as you caress his short dirty blonde locks. 

He rises up from his knees to tower over you, while taking off his tailored t-shirt revealing his chest and torso that is paler than the rest of him due to hours of toiling in the sun. You eye the raised scar on his chest from what you recognize as a brand, the number 4. You recall he regarded it as his lucky number. 

Once his shirt is removed, he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you closer to him.

“May I?” he asks as he fiddles with the clasp of your bra. 

“Please.” you moan out. 

“Yes mam,” he flashes you his big bright white smile. He was elated at your trust and want for him. It created a feeling of fullness in his chest at having you this way, he hoped to have you fully in every way soon. If he had his way it would have been the day you two met.

Once your bra is removed and discarded somewhere in his room, he gently guides you to lie in the center of his bed. You reach your arms out and whimper, gesturing for him to join you. Missing the warmth of his body against yours, and of his large hands laying tender touches over your plump form. 

“I’m coming sweetheart, don’t rush me.” he breathes out teasingly, staring at you almost naked on his bed as he works on unbuckling his belt and pulling down his jeans. 

You try not to stare at the bulge in his boxers. Lane was a big guy, you weren’t shocked. Your eyes avoided his dick, to keep yourself from jumping his bones. 

Making his way onto his bed, straddling your plump flattened thighs, he continues your make-out session with even more fervor. 

Pulling away he brings your hand to his mouth after trailing his kisses from your mouth, to down your neck, and up your arm, finishing with a darling peck to the back of your hand. 

“You want me?” he asks against your hand.

You move your head to nod but stop yourself as you know Lane will only accept a verbal answer, “Please,” you breathe out, breathless from your arousal and activities.

“Atta girl, Lift up for me” he praises as he moves to slide your panties down your hips and thighs, eventually throwing them somewhere off to the side.

You draw your legs up, feet planted on his bed, spreading your legs, to make room for him between them.

Being naked in front of anyone is enough to give anyone anxiety, but since your first meeting, Lane has done nothing but praise your beauty. Just your smile brought him to his knees, practically begging to cater to your every need. By the time his eyes moved down the rest of your face and body, he was enchanted. He always ensured you had some point of physical contact when together, claiming he couldn’t get enough of his “gorgeous girl”.

Your anxiety was low, you were happy to share your body with him, as he had proved he could be trusted with it. Trusted with you, your heart, your every need. 

One of his big hands moves to spread your folds so he can have a peek, “Ahh look at that pretty flower, you been hiding it from me?” he teases. 

His thumb rubs your clit as his other hand holds you open, so he can see all of you. He refuses to have anything hidden from his view. His thumb gently makes its way down your puffy wet folds, to your hole which throbs at the sight and feel of him. 

As your greedy wet hole practically sucks his thumb in, he groans aloud, “God you’re so pretty Y/N, please say I can have you?”

He peers up at you as his hands continue their exploration of your pussy.

“Yes Lane, I want you,” you respond, throwing your head back into his fluffy white cotton pillows. 

“Daddy’ll take care of ya,” He replies moving up to peck your sweet lips. 

His words didn’t even catch you off guard, it was very clear that Lane was the kind of man to provide, lead, and care for you beyond your wildest dreams. Hence why your relationship was moving fast by your standards, of course still much too slow for him. 

With that promise, Lane began prepping you. He swiftly pulls you into his lap, setting his back against the headboard. You go to lay your legs flat in front of you, having no clue about his goal. He stops you immediately, pulling your back to his front, and splaying each of your legs over his muscular thighs, making you wide open to him. His head comes to rest with his chin on your shoulder, looking down so he can see the mess he is making between your legs. 

You feel two fingers enter you as his thumb prods at your clit again. You are beginning to drip all over his hands and soon his sheets, as he works you like some sort of familiar machine. As you feel your climax approaching, he swiftly removes his fingers. You whine out, wanting, no needing them back in you. 

“Don’t worry doll I’m not done,” he whispers in your ear kissing the side of your face and urging you to look at him. 

He plunges his two middle fingers back into you at an alarming rate. Your blush has spread down your chest at the feeling of him fucking you on his fingers. He continues his brutal pace even as he feels your wetness increase.

He doesn’t even come to a stop when you begin to go stiff in his arms, moaning his name loudly repeatedly as your orgasm forces your thighs to tremble and try to close around him. 

“Please Lane” you beg.

“Please what sweet girl?” he hums and asks as his fingers slow.

“You, want you.” you breathe out.

“You know I can’t say no to you” he winks as he takes you off his lap, laying you on the bed.

On his knees between your legs, he removes his boxers and you don’t know what to look at first. 

His large cock is hard and dripping between the deep v shape of his muscular hips, It’s covered in short almost blonde tufts of hair at the base. His balls swing beneath it like they’d been aching for you.

He comes in closer to you, leaning over you, centering himself between your thighs. He lays his dick on your soft fat tummy. Going past your belly button, and letting you feel the warmth, throb, and weight of him.

You both gaze down at the sight in awe, letting out moans and groans at the erotic image. You have to bite your finger to keep yourself from begging him to fuck you.

His hand wraps around it giving it a few strokes before he’s tapping the heavy tip at your clit. 

He groans and moves his other hand to grope one of your breasts as he continues to move his tip through your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

“Beautiful tits, beautiful pussy, beautiful tummy, could you be any more perfect for me?” he speaks up while looking into your eyes. 

“Glad you like it,” you breathe out biting your lip.

“Like it? No, I love it, I adore it, sweetheart. Matter of fact I’m more sure than ever of you being mine. My ol lady, my girlfriend, my boo, whatever you wanna call it. You’re mine. That means no more talking to random fuckers in the street, and no more cursing.” He states hand on the side of your neck rubbing his thumb over the column of your delicate throat. 

You truly didn’t realize how upset he was by earlier events until he slid his whole length into you at once. His hips meeting yours. His bush tickles your clit. Causing you to moan out and your hole to seize around him. He let out the deepest groan you had ever heard from him. 

You could only respond, “Yes Daddy” while sucking in a sharp breath. Even if his possessive almost controlling nature upset you, you did not care in the moment. You were the fullest, wettest, and warmest you’d ever been and it was because of him.

“That’s right darling, and you won’t be bad again. Ill make sure of it.” He responds with hearts in his eyes but sternness in his tone.

He really meant it, pulling his hips all the way out just to slam back into you in seconds. You were wet enough, and he felt your pussy wrapped around him begging for him to move. You knew that Lane was strong as an ox. All-American football player, horse rider, champion bull rider, and all-around farm boy, it wasn’t until now that you realized just how strong his hips, and legs were. He was absolutely plowing you, better than any field. 

He felt so good inside of you, as his dick kept stroking, and rubbing every spot inside you. His strong arms caged you underneath him, as he bent down to kiss your lips, never once slowing in the pace or strength of his thrust. 

You open your mouth to tell him to slow down, to pull out, to let up, but your brain short circuits with him inside of you fucking you so thoroughly. It is not long till his headboard is slamming against the wall with every thrust, which would drown out the sound of anything you had to say.

He continues his powerful thrust only slowing to move your positions a little bit. Now you can catch your breath to speak up, “ ’s too much Lane please, my pussy is gonna hurt.” you breathe out, not mentioning any pain. The pain that did come from the stretch and sheer force was not so much that it interfered with your pleasure at all. 

“Whaddya mean too much doll? I picked you for a reason, I know you’re strong, firm, plump, and beautiful. Perfect for me to use how we both want.” he coos at you as he moves your position into a mating press.

“Don’t tell me you can’t take a dick? A beautiful well-built woman like you?” He asks as he brings his hips up high and all the way back down into you in your new position. 

You give no answer at first too cock drunk, at the feel of him in this new position. You thought you were full before but by god, you thought you might die as his balls hit your tight ass hole, and his muscular thighs held down your own. You couldn’t see him entering you, he was so big and going so fast. All you could see was your tits bouncing over your chubby folded-over body, and his over yours holding your legs up. 

With his arms still wrapped around your legs he falls onto you bringing his chest down to yours, you smell his heady, manly scent, making you moan out at each thrust he gives you. 

His hips do all the work as he continues slamming into you with loud plaps, you hardly notice the drops of both your arousals squirting all over your tummy from the impact. 

“Huh? Making you feel good yeah?” he moans into your neck, his face pressed passionately against yours in an effort to prevent himself from spilling inside you.

Now that was a question you could answer, “Yes!” you scream out as you pulse around his cock. 

“See doll, Daddy knows what he’s doing.” He pulls away to smirk at you. You feel your stomach and your hole begin to quiver around him. With him on top there’s not much you can do to brace yourself except wrap your arms around his neck above you. 

Recognizing the feel of you around him, he keeps at the same pace, his tip hitting the same spot inside of you over and over again. 

You tighten your arms around his neck and hold him close to you as you cum all over his dick. 

“Atta girl” he groans pecking you on your pursed lips. With his hand on your jaw as his thumb lovely brushes over your face, he continues pushing and pulling out of your pussy at a slower pace. You watch as his eyes move down to watch the way he splits you open as your hole still breathes around him. 

It’s not long before he pushes into you with renewed strength. With one last harsh thrust, he buries himself inside of you cumming in his little flower. 

His groan is loud as he falls on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You were perfect, more than I ever could have imagined. Ya okay doll?” he asks turning to you breathing heavily. 

“Yes, lane felt so good” you mewl out, “It’ll hurt when you pull out.” you remark, still feeling him inside of you. 

“To be expected, ya took me so well.” He smirks. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it sweetheart, as soon as I pull out you’ll feel my cum dripping out, that’ll cool ya down.”

“Then I’ll take you to the bath, wash you up, bring you back to bed, and give er’ some kisses, how’s that sound?” he asks.

Caught up in your ethereal look of bliss, after your lovemaking and orgasm, he can’t stop admiring and kissing your hot blushing face. His smile can’t be contained, having you in that way made his heart beat faster than any strenuous activity. You let him have you fully. To take care of you stirred something in him, he could only compare to raising up animals, a good harvest, or a job well done.  

It was now, he realized you’d forever be his favorite thing to care for, his pride and joy. He’d stop at nothing to make you the most kept woman in the world. For the rest of his life, any of his success would be to impress and provide for you. 

[parkitrighthere]

⛈️🤒❤️‍🩹😚 + Jimin pretty please

TITLE: Almost Romantic

PAIRING: jimin x reader

GENRE: rom-com, slice of life(?), Slow burn, Drama

WORD COUNT: 6k

TRIGGER WARNING: none (this is the first time i'm writing something with no trigger warning! hehe)

SUMMARY: After an awkward car ride in the rain, you end up at Park Jimin's fancy place, sneezing and fighting off both a cold and your long-time crush on him.

a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

a/n: Hey Anon! First off, let me apologize for taking forever to get back to you. I mean, wow, it took me so long you'd think I was trying to cure world hunger or something. Honestly, I have no idea what I ended up doing, and after all this time, I can only hope it's halfway decent. If you like it, please tell me so I can stop questioning all my life choices. And thank you for sending a Jimin request because OMG, I am dangerously obsessed with this man. Seriously. Anyway, hope you enjoy it. Luv ya!

The rain hammered down in relentless sheets, drumming against the tin roof of the bus stop above you. The cold air howled through the deserted street, wrapping itself around you like an unwelcome guest. The flickering streetlight cast a pale, ghostly glow, its harsh light accentuating the emptiness around you. You hugged yourself tightly, your arms gripping your sides as if you could hold yourself together.

You shivered, your breath coming out in quick, visible puffs. The dampness seeped through your clothes, clinging to your skin and chilling you to the bone. Drops of water slid down your face, some from the rain, others threatening to spill from your eyes. You blinked them away furiously, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking down. Mina had warned you about staying late at the office, but as always, you thought you knew better. Now you stood here, stranded and freezing, your phone a useless piece of metal in your bag.

A gust of wind tore through the street, whipping your hair into your face and dragging the rain sideways. You turned your head away, teeth chattering. The cold felt like it was pressing in, squeezing the air from your lungs. You couldn’t even hear your own shaky breathing over the roar of the storm.

The faint glow of headlights pierced through the rain, growing brighter as the car approached. Your heart surged with a flicker of hope, and you stumbled forward, arm jerking up to wave frantically. “Please,” you whispered, though your voice was swallowed by the storm. “Please stop.”

The car’s tires splashed through a puddle, sending icy water spraying onto your shoes. Its headlights illuminated you for a split second before sweeping past, leaving you in the dark once more. You stood frozen, your arm still raised as you stared after the fading taillights.

Your chest tightened, and you swallowed hard, trying to choke back the lump rising in your throat. Your hand dropped slowly to your side, trembling as you clenched it into a fist. The ache in your chest grew heavier, a suffocating weight that pressed against your ribs. A tear slipped free, quickly hidden by the rain streaking down your face. You swiped at your cheeks angrily.

The wind howled again, and you crumpled onto the cold bench behind you, wrapping your arms around you, tightly. Your nails dug into your damp sleeves as your shoulders began to shake. You couldn’t cry—what good would it do? No one was coming. No one ever did. The darkness pressed in closer, whispering that you were alone, as you rocked yourself gently.

Your heart jolted as you caught sight of the same car stopped just a few feet away. Its brake lights glowed faintly in the rain before it suddenly began reversing. The tires splashed through puddles, the sound sharp against the muffled roar of the storm. Before you could process what was happening, the car screeched to a halt right in front of you.

Were you happy? No.

Relieved? Not even close.

Scared? Absolutely.

Your legs locked in place as you stared at the car, your mind racing. Why would someone stop now after ignoring you the first time? The question sent a shiver down your spine. The pounding rain felt distant compared to the thunderous beating of your heart. Every nerve screamed at you to run, but your feet refused to move. You tried to steady your breathing, silently chanting, Stay calm, stay calm, but your chest tightened like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

The car door opposite you creaked open, the noise slicing through the storm like a warning bell. Your body tensed, muscles coiling as if preparing to bolt. But just as quickly, the door slammed shut again. What? Your brows furrowed, and for a fleeting moment, confusion overpowered fear. Is this person okay? Or are they just messing with me?

The passenger window began to lower, gliding down with a soft whoosh. Your breath hitched as a familiar face emerged, half-shrouded in the shadows of the car's interior. Park Jimin. Your boss. Your obnoxiously attractive, arrogant, self-absorbed boss. Relief washed over you like a bucket of icy water, though it was short-lived.

“Get in,” he commanded, his voice low and clipped as he motioned impatiently with his hand. You hesitated, frozen under his sharp gaze, but another gust of wind pushed you forward, your feet dragging against the puddled pavement. The rain soaked you even more as you opened the car door and slid in, trembling from the cold. The interior smelled faintly of leather and expensive cologne, but any sense of comfort was destroyed by his sharp voice cutting through the space.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What the hell are you doing here at this time of night? And why were you walking so damn slow?”

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing despite the exhaustion clawing at you. Of course, his first instinct wasn’t to ask if you were okay but to criticize. You forced a tight-lipped smile, your fingers curling into the damp fabric of your skirt.

“Yes, Mr. Park. I’m perfectly fine,” you bit out, the words dripping with sarcasm you tried to mask behind a strained politeness. Your fake smile wavered as you glanced at him, silently debating whether strangling him would be worth losing your ride home.

Jimin scoffed, shaking his head slightly, as though reading your thoughts. His eyes trailed over your face, lingering for a moment before they dropped lower. You noticed the shift in his expression too late. His gaze flicked to your collarbone, then downward. His eyes widened briefly before he snapped his head forward, clearing his throat with a harsh sound.

Confused, you frowned and followed his gaze. Your stomach sank as your eyes landed on the problem. Your white blouse, drenched from the rain, clung to your body like a second skin, and the bright red lace of your bra was clearly visible underneath.

A gasp escaped your lips as your arms flew up instinctively to cover your chest. “Oh my god,” you muttered, turning your body away from him, your face heating despite the cold. You shot him a glare over your shoulder, clutching your arms tightly around yourself.

Jimin rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze entirely. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose as he shrugged off his blazer. Without a word, he leaned over and held it out to you. You snatched it from his hand, your lips twisting into a scowl.

“You could’ve stopped the car near me,” you muttered under your breath, slipping the warm fabric over your shoulders. The faint scent of his cologne clung to it. So... manly.

His head snapped toward you, brows furrowed. “So, it’s my fault now?”

“Duh!” you shot back, pulling the blazer tighter around yourself as if it could shield you from his attitude.

“And what about the fact that you were walking so maddeningly slow? Like you were planning to camp out there all night?”

Your jaw clenched, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “Shut up,” you hissed, your voice low but dripping with frustration.

Jimin’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting in mock disbelief. “Did you just—”

“Yes, yes, yes! I just told you to shut uuuupppp!” you yelled, throwing your hands in the air. Your voice echoed sharply inside the car, silencing him completely. The weight of your outburst hit you like a tidal wave, embarrassment creeping up your neck. You turned your face away, heat flooding your cheeks. Great. Now I look like a lunatic.

He stared at you, stunned, his lips slightly parted as though he couldn’t quite process what had just happened. His wide eyes and slack jaw only made you angrier. You could practically feel his judgment radiating off him, and it made you want to crawl under a rock—or strangle him slowly and thoroughly.

“Stop staring and start the damn car,” you snapped, your voice cracking slightly.

His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he blinked, shaking his head. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, and he hurriedly looked away, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Fine,” he muttered, starting the engine with a low rumble.

The car began to move, the rain now a blurred sheet outside the windows. Silence settled between you, heavy and awkward, broken only by the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers. You sank back into the seat, pressing your hand to your forehead as a dull ache throbbed at your temples. A cold shiver raced down your spine, and you took a shaky breath, hoping it would settle your nerves.

“How long, Mr. Park?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the fight in you momentarily drained.

“Not far,” he replied, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “My house is just a few blocks away. We’ll be there soon.”

Your heart stopped. You sat up straighter, your hands clutching the blazer tightly. “What the hell do you mean, your house?”

He spared you another glance, his brows knitting together in mild confusion. “I’m taking you home,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Whose home?” you nearly screeched, pulling the blazer tighter around you as though it could somehow protect you from this insanity.

“Mine,” he said simply, his eyes darting back to the road.

"Home. Your home," you repeated, your tone sharp as you gestured toward him. "I wanted to go to my home."

Jimin’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, his jaw ticking in irritation. “I didn’t know the address,” he said flatly, avoiding your gaze.

“You could’ve just asked!”

“I wanted to, but you yelled at me to shut up.”

“And so your brilliant solution was to bring me here?” you retorted, throwing your hands up in disbelief.

His eyes snapped to yours, narrowing as he pulled the car to a jerky stop. “Excuse me? I live here. What the hell do you mean by here?” he asked, his voice low and offended, his brows drawing together.

You glared at him, your lips curling into a bitter scowl. “Then why have you stopped in the middle of nowhere?”

Jimin’s lips parted, a humourless laugh escaping him as he ran a hand through his damp hair. “I think you’ve been out in the rain too long. Maybe some water leaked into your brain because it’s clearly not working. We are not in the middle of nowhere, you deranged woman.”

Before you could retort, he pushed his door open with a sharp motion and stepped out, slamming it shut behind him. You stared after him in disbelief, his broad back retreating into the rain. Grumbling under your breath, you wrestled with your seatbelt, finally kicking the door open and following him.

The rain hit you like icy needles, soaking through your clothes as you stumbled out of the car. The moment you stepped onto the pavement, you froze, your jaw slack. In front of you stood a towering, modern building, its glass facade gleaming despite the downpour. “Wow,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily forgetting your anger. But then you caught sight of Jimin’s retreating figure, and you cursed under your breath, hiking up your heels to chase after him.

“Of course, you’d leave me behind,” you muttered as your heels clicked against the wet pavement.

Jimin turned his head slightly, flashing you a grin that made you want to slap it off his face. “Oh, you’re here! I thought you’d decided to spend the night in the car,” he teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You narrowed your eyes at him, shivering as you wrapped his blazer tighter around yourself. “Do you have a knife at home?” you asked, your tone casual as you both inside the elevator.

He paused mid-step, his shoulders stiffening slightly. “Yeah… why?”

“Just so I know where to find one,” you replied, tilting your head innocently. “For when you start talking too much rubbish.”

Jimin turned to face you fully, his brows lifting as his mouth parted in shock. For a brief moment, he looked genuinely alarmed. Then, as you burst into laughter at his expression, he sighed in relief, shaking his head.

“You think you’re funny?” he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly.

You smirked, lifting your chin. “I think I’m adorable.”

His lips twitched into a smirk of his own as he leaned in, his face now dangerously close to yours. You wanted to step back, but the cold glass of the elevator doors pressed against your back, trapping you. His dark eyes glinted with amusement as he opened his mouth to respond—

And then you sneezed.

Hard.

Right into his face.

The moment froze, your eyes widening in horror as he flinched, wiping at his face with his sleeve. “What the actual hell?!” he yelled, his voice a mixture of disbelief and rage. He stepped back, his face scrunching up in disgust as he muttered a string of curses, switching languages with every expletive. English, Japanese, Chinese, and then a barrage of rapid Korean filled the small elevator.

You stared down at your feet, heat crawling up your neck. “Sorry…” you mumbled, barely audible, too mortified to meet his eyes.

He glared at you, his nostrils flaring. “Sorry? Sorry?!” He stepped forward, looking like he had a whole speech prepared—

But the elevator dinged, its doors sliding open.

For the first time that night, you silently thanked every god you could think of as Jimin stomped out, muttering under his breath. You hurried after him, sneezing again as the cold air hit you.

“Sit,” he barked, pointing to the plush couch in his spacious living room. His voice was sharp, but his eyes softened for a moment as they flicked to your shivering form.

You sat without a word, clutching his blazer tightly around you. Jimin disappeared into hallway, still muttering under his breath. As you sneezed again, you couldn’t help but laugh softly at the ridiculousness of it all, even if he was plotting your demise in the next room.

He came back, dressed in a plain sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, his hair sticking up in messy tufts, like he’d been running his hands through it. Barefoot and casual, he should’ve looked harmless, but instead, he looked annoyingly good. His sharp gaze locked on you as he walked closer, his lips pressed into a tight line, like he had something serious to say. Your throat dried up when he stopped right in front of you, the scent of his and something uniquely him filling the air between you. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, and just as his lips parted to speak—

You sneezed.

Right on his face.

“Women, seriously?” he muttered, his lips curling into a smirk as he wiped the back of his hand against his face.

You scowled, tugging his oversized blazer tighter around yourself. “What? I can’t help it!”

“You can’t help anything. The only thing you can help at is being mean and senseless.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, leaning toward him, ready to unleash your fury—but another sneeze erupted before you could get the words out.

“Eww!” he exclaimed, jerking back like you’d just sprayed him with acid.

He pointed toward the hallway, his expression torn between disgust and resignation. “You, come with me. Before you drown my house with your sneezes.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging after him as he led you through the sleek, modern interior of his house.

“I didn’t ask you to bring me here,” you grumbled, your damp hair sticking to your neck. “You could’ve just dropped me off at my place.”

He turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing in exasperation. “Did you see how hard it was raining? You wanted me to take you home and then drive back through that storm? I could’ve gotten stuck—or worse. You should be grateful!”

You glared at his back, muttering under your breath, “Grateful, my ass.”

Jimin stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a spacious, minimalist bedroom. He disappeared into the walk-in closet without a word, emerging moments later with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“Here,” he said, shoving the clothes into your arms. “Change into this.” His voice softened, just for a second, before he added, “Bathroom’s on the right. Don’t take forever.”

You raised a brow as he turned and left without waiting for a response. Rude.

But as you glanced around his room—simple yet elegant with muted tones and clean lines—you couldn’t deny the faint flutter in your chest. It was surreal, standing here, surrounded by the essence of him. Once upon a time, when you’d first started working at the company, you’d harboured the most ridiculous crush on him. Obsessive, even. But you’d gotten over it. Or at least you thought you had.

Quickly peeling off your wet clothes, you slipped into the hoodie and sweatpants. They were far too big, the sleeves swallowing your hands, but they were warm and soft. And they smelled… like him. Clean, woodsy, with the faintest hint of something sharp and intoxicating. You hated how comforting it felt.

Or maybe you didn’t.

When you returned to the living room, he was sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest. His eyes flicked to you, scanning you briefly before he gestured toward the coffee table. “Soup,” he said simply.

Your gaze shifted to the large bowl sitting on the table, steam rising from the golden liquid. Your heart softened a fraction as you sat beside him, the warmth of the soup drawing you in. Without a second thought, you grabbed the bowl and scooped up a spoonful.

The second it touched your tongue, the heat seared your mouth, and you yelped, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. Jimin’s eyes widened, as he shot forward. “What the hell?!” he exclaimed, snatching the bowl out of your hands and placing it back on the table.

Before you could respond, he was in front of you, crouching slightly, his face a mixture of panic and concern. leaning closer. He started fanning your mouth with his hand, his brows furrowed as he muttered under his breath. Then, without warning, he leaned in further and blew.

The cool air hit your lips, and your breath hitched. His face was inches from yours now, his dark eyes focused intently on your mouth. You froze, acutely aware of the way his hand hovered just beneath your chin, steadying you. The moment stretched, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. His gaze flicked to yours, and for a heartbeat, neither of you moved. His lips parted slightly, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Are you blind? C-Can’t you see it’s hot?” he scolded, his voice breaking slightly as he cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly on the couch. His eyes darted away from yours, and for a fleeting moment, you caught the faintest hint of colour creeping up his neck.

You nodded, the sting of embarrassment silencing any snarky retort. Any other day, you’d have torn into him for bossing you around, but now? You couldn’t even muster a glare. Instead, you pressed your palms to your cheeks, only to realize they were burning.

What the hell was wrong with you?

Your mind raced as you sat frozen in place. You’re over him. You’re over him, you chanted silently, willing the blush to disappear. But deep down, you knew the truth—your heart was still as stupid as ever.

And then, just as you thought you could gather yourself, you sneezed again.

His head whipped toward you, eyes narrowing slightly. You braced for the scolding that was surely coming, shoulders tensing as you sucked in a breath.

But instead, he shifted closer.

Your breath hitched.

His gaze softened, his brows knitting together with concern as he leaned in. “Are you really sick?” he asked, his voice quieter this time, almost gentle.

Before you could answer, his hand moved toward your face. You froze as his fingertips brushed your forehead, testing your temperature. His touch was warm—too warm—and your heart thudded violently in your chest.

He frowned, his hand lingering for a moment longer before sliding down to the side of your neck, his thumb grazing your jaw.

That was it. You were doomed.

Your pulse quickened beneath his touch, and you swore he could feel it. His brows furrowed deeper, his expression shifting from mild concern to genuine worry. “You’re turning red,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb moved slightly, tracing an invisible line along your skin. “Do… Do I need to call a doctor?”

The tenderness in his tone almost shattered you. Why did he have to be like this? Why now?

You shook your head quickly, snapping out of your daze and leaning back, desperate to put some distance between you. “No,” you managed to croak, your voice embarrassingly hoarse.

He blinked, his hand falling back to his side as he sat upright. “Oh,” he said, his tone clipped. His shoulders stiffened as if he suddenly realized how close he’d been.

You caught his slight grimace as he scooted away, the small gap between you growing wider.

Your chest tightened, and before you knew it, you were pouting.

His gaze flicked to you, one brow arching in confusion. “What?” he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

You shook your head quickly, too flustered to explain.

“Seriously, what’s wrong now?” he pressed, his brows drawing together again.

But you just shook your head once more, biting your lip to keep from saying something stupid—like how much you’d missed this, how much you wished he’d never pulled away.

And yet, even as he leaned back into his corner of the couch, his gaze lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, his expression unreadable. And that tiny, almost imperceptible pause was enough to make your heart ache with hope.

“You hungry?” he asked, his voice low and casual as he glanced over at you.

“No,” you said quickly, your tone sharper than intended.

His lips quirked up, clearly not believing you. “You sure? I can cook,” he offered, his brows lifting in that way that made his face unbearably soft, like he was trying to coax the truth out of you.

You shook your head firmly. “I’m sure,” you mumbled, shifting your gaze back to the soup in your hands. You’d already eaten, and you knew he had too.

A comfortable silence fell between you. He leaned back on the couch, his head resting against the cushions, eyes fluttering closed. His chest rose and fell evenly, and for the first time since you’d met him, he looked utterly at peace.

And absolutely stunning.

You tried not to stare, but your eyes betrayed you, taking in every detail. The way his jawline looked sharper under the dim light, the soft curve of his lashes resting against his cheeks, and his lips—God, his lips—full and slightly parted, as if he was moments away from whispering something that would undo you.

Your gaze trailed down to his clothes, his sweatshirt slightly rumpled but hugging his shoulders perfectly. His loose, comfy sweatpants sat just right on his hips, and even in such an unassuming outfit, he looked... ethereal.

It wasn’t fair. How could someone look like that just sitting there?

You pulled your eyes away, forcing yourself to look out the glass wall instead. The rain pounded relentlessly against it, streaks of water catching the faint glow of the city lights outside. The storm showed no signs of stopping, and you couldn’t help but regret staying late at the office.

I could’ve finished it all tomorrow, you thought bitterly, tightening your grip on the warm bowl in your hands. Your eyes drifted back to him, unable to help yourself. The question burned at the back of your mind: why had he stayed late? You knew he often worked late, but on busy nights like this, he typically stayed at the office rather than going home. Tonight, though, he’d changed that.

You frowned slightly. What was different this time?

You didn’t know—and couldn’t have known—that the difference was you.

He had seen the storm warning on the news and had sent everyone home early, but you had stayed behind, stubbornly working. He had been about to leave, but seeing you there, so focused, so unaware of the weather worsening, had stopped him in his tracks. Jimin was nothing if not professional, but he had always harboured an unspoken interest in you—a quiet, persistent fondness he never let show.

And now, here you both were.

The silence stretched on, the sound of the rain filling the space between you. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but when you finally opened your mouth to speak, the words were out before you could stop them. And you almost regretted it. Almost.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The question slipped out before you could stop yourself, your eyes widening in surprise at your own words.

Jimin’s eyes flicked open, locking with yours instantly. There was a quiet amusement in his gaze, and his lips tugged up into that soft, teasing smile that made your heart do something you tried to ignore. He didn’t speak right away, just studied you as if he could read everything you weren’t saying.

“No,” he replied, his voice quiet and surprisingly soft. “Why do you ask?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling silly, and looked everywhere but at him—out the window, at your hands, the bowl of soup on the table. Anywhere but him.

He leaned back into the couch, clearly amused, a playful edge to his tone. “Why are you behaving like this?” His smile was still there, small but knowing.

“Like what?” you blurted out, but even as the words left your mouth, you knew it was a bit of a dumb question.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” He raised an eyebrow, watching you like you were a puzzle he was determined to figure out.

You stared at him, blinking a few times like he’d just sprouted another head, making his laughter bubble up, soft but genuine.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he teased.

“Because you’re talking weird,” you said, voice a bit sharper than you intended, but your words faltered under his gaze.

He chuckled again, the sound warm and disarming, sending a flutter through your chest. “You’re behaving weird,” he countered.

You let out a frustrated huff and turned away from him, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, hoping the action would somehow shield you from whatever was happening between the two of you.

He chuckled again, and it was like a spark igniting inside you, frustrating and electrifying all at once. You glared at him, but even that seemed pointless when he was looking at you like that—like he could read the thoughts swirling in your head.

The silence that fell was oddly peaceful, but it didn’t sit well with you. You always needed something more. Chaos, noise, anything but stillness. Fidgeting in your seat, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You broke the silence, your voice sounding louder than you intended.

“Mr. Park—”

He cut you off with a soft smile, sitting up slightly. “You can call me Jimin,” he said, the words coming out like an invitation, a subtle challenge in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, hesitant. You glanced away quickly, feeling the heat creep up your neck as you crossed your arms defensively. “Are you sure?”

His gaze didn’t waver, locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel suddenly exposed, vulnerable in a way you couldn’t explain. “Why do you look so unsure?” he asked, his voice gentle but with a teasing edge.

You stiffened, trying to find something—anything—to say. “You were perfectly okay threatening me and cursing at me. What happened now?”

His face twisted into a playful look of disbelief. “When did I—”

You were about to cut him off, but the teasing glint in his eyes silenced you.

“Huh?” His head tilted, and his smile grew, mischievous and daring.

“Okay! But I don’t mean any of it,” you blurted out, the words tumbling over each other as you sat up straighter, hoping it would make you look less flustered.

“Of course you don’t,” he said, his laugh escaping just beneath his words. The playful glint in his eyes only deepened as he relaxed back into the couch, arms spread wide like he was claiming the space between you. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and you couldn’t help but feel that same pull in your chest, though you tried to ignore it.

You crossed your arms tighter over your chest, trying to regain some control over yourself. “You really think you’re so charming, don’t you?”

He leaned in slightly, his smile widening, and your stomach fluttered despite your best attempts to stay unaffected.

“I don’t just think... I know.” His voice was full of that confidence that made your heart race, that impossible assurance that had you questioning everything.

You rolled your eyes, but even you knew it was more for show than anything. Your lips wanted to curl up, but you kept them pressed tight, the heat in your cheeks betraying the hard facade you tried to maintain.

“Yeah, right. Your just full of yourself,” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected, but the playful tone that slipped into your voice gave you away.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, his grin widening. “But I’ve got goods to back it up. Just look at how you're blushing.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you immediately shifted in your seat, trying to hide the heat spreading across your face. Your heart was racing now, and you could barely keep your breath steady.

“Am not!” you protested, but it came out weak, a poor defence against the blush that was clearly visible.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, before standing up. “Sure, let’s go.”

Confused, you followed him, your feet moving almost mechanically. You barely registered his words at first, still caught in the strange feeling his teasing had left in your chest. “It’s getting late. We should go to bed.”

Something about the way he said "we" made your stomach twist, or was it flutter? You weren’t sure. All you could hear now was the odd ringing in your ears, a soft buzz that drowned out everything else.

“We?” The word slipped from your mouth before you could stop it, confusion knitting your brows together as you watched him.

He gave you a small, almost reassuring smile as he stepped into his bedroom, holding the door open for you. His eyes never left you as he waited, his gaze warm, not at all like you had imagined it would be.

You stepped in hesitantly, your heart pounding with every step you took closer to him. Your mind was swirling, but you couldn’t place what was happening. You trusted him, you did, but something about this moment felt different—felt new.

“What happened?” he asked softly, his hands reaching out to gently pull you toward him, his touch grounding you in a way that made everything else fade into the background.

You blinked, confused. “Huh?”

His eyes searched your face with concern, his brows furrowing as his fingers grazed your cheek. “You’re so... pale.”

“Am I?” you whispered, suddenly aware of how unsteady you felt.

He didn’t seem satisfied with the answer. His touch moved from your face to your forehead, gently pressing as though checking for something. His fingers trailed down to your neck, the soft touch sending shivers down your spine.

You felt lightheaded, almost as if his hand was the only thing keeping you grounded. Your knees wobbled, your breath catching in your throat as your vision blurred.

“What happened to you?” His voice was barely a whisper now, a trace of worry creeping in that made your heart thud painfully in your chest.

The softness in his tone made your legs feel even weaker, like they could give out at any moment. Your body trembled slightly under his touch, your mind too foggy to make sense of anything.

Before you could even respond, he scooped you up effortlessly, his strength surprising you. He laid you down gently on the bed, the sudden movement making everything feel even more surreal.

You felt lighter than you ever had, almost weightless, like you could just float away. But your head—your head felt impossibly heavy, as if you couldn’t hold it up anymore. The dizziness washed over you in waves, your senses fading. You barely registered the way his face hovered above you, worry etched deep in his expression as he watched you. His hand was still on your forehead, his touch warm against your cool skin.

You barely registered the way his face hovered above you, worry etched deep in his expression as he watched you. His hand was still on your forehead, his touch warm against your cool skin.

“God, what... hap-happened?” he murmured again, but you couldn’t find the strength to answer. Your vision blurred even further, the world around you spinning uncontrollably. You felt yourself slip away, your body growing heavier.

And then, without warning, everything went black.

You blinked your eyes open, still disoriented, only to find Jimin staring down at you. His face was inches away, concern etched across his features. His hand was gently placed on your arm, and his eyes were wide, scanning your face for any sign of distress. The dim light in the room made the worried expression on his face all the more intense.

"You okay?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he helped you sit up, his hand guiding you gently. He reached for the glass of water from the bedside table, offering it to you with a quiet determination. Without thinking, you drank it in one go, the cool liquid helping to clear the fog in your mind. You nodded weakly, still feeling lightheaded, but trying to reassure him.

"You fainted," he said, his voice unsteady as he watched you closely, his brows furrowed in disbelief. You nodded again, still not fully processing what had just happened.

He looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise, lips parted in a mixture of concern and confusion. His expression was so pure, so real, it made something twist in your chest. You couldn’t help but chuckle, though it was soft, a little breathless.

"I’m fine, Jimin," you reassured him, the words coming out far less convincing than you hoped.

"No, you're not," he said firmly, his voice almost pleading, his tone so filled with worry it made your heart clench. "You fainted. Let’s go to doctor."

"I’m fine," you repeated, though the words felt weak. His eyes never left yours, searching for any sign that you were telling the truth. His hand reached up, rubbing his face in frustration, his worry only growing.

"And I’m worried," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. His gaze softened, and you could see it in his eyes—the deep concern, the care that he couldn’t hide.

You felt a strange warmth spread through your chest, something raw and unspoken. But you also didn’t want him to act like this, not with you. Not now, not after everything.

“Why?” Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost a whisper, and you couldn’t look him in the eyes. It was the question you’d been asking yourself for so long, and now it slipped out before you could stop it. Your heart raced, your chest tightening as you waited for him to answer.

For a moment, he was silent. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, his gaze softening, and you could feel the tension between you grow thicker, thicker still. Then, as if to break the tension, he slowly reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine. His hand lingered, resting on your skin, as if he wasn’t ready to pull away.

“Sleep,” he murmured, the word leaving his lips like a tender command. But the last thing you wanted to do was sleep. The night was still young, the rain pouring outside, the sound of it filling the room. The cold breeze from the open window brushed against your skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

“I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room,” he said, as if it was the most natural thing to do. You stared at him, confused, unsure why he was saying that. You hadn’t asked him to, hadn’t even thought of it.

“Why?” you asked, your voice cracking just slightly.

“Because you’re sleeping on my bed,” he said, his voice firm but kind, as if it was obvious. He made you lie back down, covering you with the duvet, the soft fabric comforting against your skin. As he stepped back, you couldn’t stop the aching feeling in your chest, that unbearable pull that made your heart beat faster.

He moved toward the door, slow and deliberate, like he didn’t want to leave but had to. Every step he took felt like an eternity, and you wanted to call out to him, tell him to stop. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have the words.

When he reached the door, he paused and turned around to face you. His gaze softened, and he smiled—a small, almost shy smile, but one that made your chest ache. "Sleep tight, love. We have something important to talk about tomorrow." And with that, he closed the door softly behind him.

You lay there in the quiet room, your heart still racing, your mind spinning. You stared at the door, your thoughts scattered, your breath shaky. Did he just…? Did he just call you love?

The word echoed in your head, a faint warmth spreading through your veins. It was too much, and yet, you couldn’t stop the flutter in your chest. The night had shifted, everything had shifted, but you didn’t know what it meant. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of hope.

And as the rain continued to pour outside, the sound somehow soothing your frayed nerves, you let your eyes flutter shut, your heart still thumping, your thoughts tangled in him.

I don’t know if you liked it or not, but please, leave some feedback. Like, tell me how much you loved it or absolutely hated it. I’m all ears... honestly, I’m mostly just here for the drama either way.

[blackenedsnow]

IT'S ME AGAIN. DON'T ASK. Please don't question why I'm here, I only have drama in mind, but I have a desire for action.

Singer!reader with Bodyguard!sss(silver, sonic, shadow) team, Reader, a popular singer, was constantly giving concerts and releasing a new album every year and continuing to be popular, but she had a problem singing and performing constantly and after the concert, her voice was constantly muffled/hoarse this always got worried the bodyguards. Reader also delayed them just saying "don't be that worried about it omg..!" like shes mean girl type, Of course, the triple guards know that and they know her well, so they can't/didn't say much. In fact singing was a strength of hers, the songs she sang hooked/obsessed the people and helped them to love her even more. That's the good thing of her power. The bad thing is, if she sings a violent and scary melody or song, it becomes reality, but she didn't know it..yet.

Suddenly she got shot a few bullets in her chest while singing one of those kind of songs, but she kept singing to hide her pain, then a few minutes later of disaster and massive pain she fell to the ground and fans started or tried to help her but the other mean guards didn't let them as the fans began to curse the mean guards as a massive fight begin around them as the main triple guards came to the concert and tried to help her but she was already dying...the triple guards tried to save her as they failed and she died at the concert.

A star who is popular again after 10 years attracts the attention of 3 guards or not anymore guards they were normal hero hedgehogs again. Silver was the first to notice it, then shadow and sonic noticed too but had she changed much? İ MEAN MUCH. She has red hair, red sun-like pupils and a black tight jumpsuit. She also has a beauty mark below her right eye. After 3 hedgehogs tried and managed to get her attention at the concert, she suddenly stopped the concert and wanted to meet privately with 3 hedgehogs.

After entering her own private room she sneeringly smiled and looked at them as they really thought she was a dead popstar but she was faking her dead the whole time trying to recreate her singing power as she began to explain more and answered their question.

I leave you the back questions and the made-up story, You can say anything you want about why she's been acting dead so far..

take care of yourself! ⭐

voice of power

WARNING: Mentions of violence and injury, faked death

PAIRING: Sonic the Hedgehog x (Fem) Singer! Reader, Shadow the Hedgehog x (Fem) Singer! Reader, Silver the Hedgehog x (Fem) Singer! Reader,

NOTE: Hey there! I’m always excited to hear your ideas and write what inspires you! I’m here for it all. :)

SUMMARY: You’re a powerful, world-famous singer with a voice that captivates and obsesses the masses, backed by an elite team of bodyguards: Sonic, Shadow, and Silver. But behind the glamour and success, there’s a price to pay.

The lights dimmed as you took center stage, basking in the deafening roar of the crowd. Their cheers, a familiar symphony of adoration, pumped through your veins like electricity. You flashed a confident smile as you gripped the microphone, your voice effortlessly weaving through the melody. Song after song, you captivated them, holding their hearts in the palm of your hand.

You were a sensation—a force of nature in the music world. No matter how many concerts you performed or albums you released, your popularity never waned. But tonight, like every other performance, the price for your talent was clear by the end.

As the final note echoed through the stadium, your voice, once powerful and sharp, had turned raspy and hoarse. You barely managed a breathy "thank you" before retreating backstage, leaving the crowd chanting your name in blissful ignorance of the strain you were under.

But your bodyguards? They knew.

Sonic was the first to greet you behind the curtain, his usual energetic smile slightly faltering when he saw the exhaustion on your face. “Another great show, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off, your tone sharp but dismissive. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Silver and Shadow joined moments later, their expressions a little less carefree. Silver, always the worrier, frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay? Your voice—”

“It’s fine!” you snapped, rolling your eyes. “God, you guys worry too much. It’s just hoarse. Don’t be so dramatic.”

Shadow, standing a bit farther back, crossed his arms, his red eyes studying you in silence. He, more than the others, had learned not to push you when you were like this. It was your way of coping after all.

Sonic glanced at Shadow, but he didn’t argue. He knew better, too. You were their responsibility, yes, but they’d learned over time how to navigate your prickly exterior. Still, the hoarseness in your voice was becoming too common to ignore, and they all knew it.

“You’ve been doing this a lot lately,” Silver muttered, glancing at the others for support. “We’re just… worried.”

You sighed dramatically, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a long sip. “Well, stop worrying. I’m fine. You guys need to chill.”

There it was—that edge in your voice, the cool dismissal. You weren’t cruel, not really, but you had a way of pushing them back whenever they got too close. You’d built walls to keep them from prying into things you didn’t want to talk about—like how drained you felt after every concert, or how your throat burned after singing. They weren’t allowed to worry about you, not if you had any say in it.

But deep down, they couldn’t help it. Because they knew you—better than anyone else.

Still, they held back, even as concern tugged at them. This was your routine. After every show, your voice would be rough, and after every show, you’d tell them not to worry. But as your bodyguards, they couldn’t just ignore it.

Sonic, Silver, and Shadow exchanged glances, silently agreeing to let it go for now. You were strong, and they respected that, but they’d seen enough to know when something wasn’t right.

“You’ve got more performances coming up,” Sonic said after a moment, rubbing the back of his head. “Just… don’t overdo it, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not some fragile little flower, you know,” you replied, shrugging him off as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “I’ve got this under control.”

But they couldn’t shake the feeling that something was building, something you didn’t even realize. After all, they knew you weren’t just any singer. There was something different about you—something powerful about your voice that went beyond just captivating an audience.

And they feared that you might be playing with something you didn’t fully understand.

A few nights later, this specific night seemed perfect—just like every other concert. You were on stage, the crowd hanging on your every word, every note, just like always. The lights were bright, the music loud, and your voice—though a little strained—still commanded the room. But something felt different tonight.

The song you were performing wasn’t like your usual set. This one had a darker edge, a haunting melody that throbbed through the venue like a heartbeat. Your fans didn’t seem to mind, though. They were just as entranced as always, singing along, their faces lit with adoration.

But then, something snapped.

The first shot hit your chest before you even realized what was happening.

Pain. Sharp and all-consuming. It ripped through you, but you didn’t stop singing. You couldn’t. Your voice was your armor, your strength, and no matter what was happening, you couldn’t let the audience see you in pain. So you kept singing, your voice now layered with a hidden agony that none of them could sense—yet.

Another bullet. And another.

Your breath hitched, but the notes kept coming, your body trembling with the effort. The stage lights blurred in your vision, the sound of your voice fading under the roaring in your ears. You couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when all eyes were on you.

But the pain was unbearable.

It felt like your chest was on fire, the bullets lodged deep, your body betraying you. You clutched the microphone tighter, leaning into it for support as your legs began to give out. You didn’t care if it hurt. You didn’t care if—

Your knees buckled. The microphone slipped from your hand, and in a heartbeat, you hit the ground.

The crowd screamed.

Chaos erupted as the fans surged forward, trying to help you, but the security guards—a rougher, meaner bunch hired for the event—blocked their way, shoving people back. “Stay back!” they barked, their voices cold and unfeeling, as if they didn’t care that you were lying there, bleeding out in front of thousands of people.

The fans shouted, some of them screaming your name, others cursing the guards. Fists flew, and soon a full-blown riot broke out. The guards pushed back harder, forming a barrier around you as the concert dissolved into madness.

But you could barely see it anymore.

The pain was overwhelming, blurring the edges of your vision as blood pooled beneath you. The world spun, and your breath came in shallow gasps. The sounds around you—shouts, screams, the clashing of bodies—faded into the background.

Suddenly, through the haze, you saw them. Sonic, Shadow, and Silver were pushing through the chaos, their eyes locked on you. They moved fast, faster than you’d ever seen them, but it didn’t matter. You knew it was too late.

By the time they reached you, your chest was heaving, every breath a struggle. Sonic dropped to his knees beside you, his usual smile nowhere to be found. “Hey… hey, we’re here. You’re gonna be okay,” he said, though his voice wavered.

Shadow was already checking your wounds, his expression grim, while Silver hovered nearby, panic clear in his wide eyes.

But you knew. You could feel the life draining out of you, the strength that had always been there slipping through your fingers. You tried to speak, tried to tell them something—anything—but your voice was gone, replaced by a weak gurgle.

It was too late.

The world was already fading, the pain dulling as your body went cold. You could feel yourself slipping away, the noise of the concert—of the chaos—growing distant.

And then… just like that, you were gone.

Ten years had passed since the tragic night when your life was cut short on stage. The music world had mourned, and your three former bodyguards—Sonic, Shadow, and Silver—had each gone back to their roles as heroes. They tried to move on, but losing you had left a mark on each of them, a wound that never fully healed.

That was why, when Silver saw you again, standing under the bright lights of a new concert stage, his heart nearly stopped.

It wasn’t just the resemblance—it was you. He knew it, deep in his gut, despite the changes. You were different, transformed, but still undeniably you.

“Is that—” Silver muttered, wide-eyed, as he stared at the screen showing the concert.

Shadow, sitting nearby, followed Silver’s gaze. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the screen, a flicker of recognition flashing in his sharp red eyes. “It can’t be…”

But it was. Sonic, who had just walked into the room, caught sight of the broadcast and froze. “No way…” His usual carefree tone was gone, replaced by shock.

The three of them stared at the screen, watching in stunned silence as you moved across the stage, your presence commanding as always, but now with an even more magnetic pull. You hadn’t just changed physically—you were more powerful, more captivating than ever.

“I thought she was dead,” Sonic whispered, his voice barely audible.

Silver was the first to move, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. “We need to get to that concert.”

Shadow and Sonic exchanged a glance before following. They didn’t know how it was possible, but if you were back, they needed answers. And more than anything, they needed to see you again.

At the concert venue, the crowd was mesmerized by your performance. Every note you sang seemed to wrap around their minds, drawing them in deeper with every passing second. But your attention wasn’t on the audience—it was on the three familiar faces you’d spotted in the crowd.

Silver. Shadow. Sonic.

It had been years since you’d seen them, but the moment their eyes met yours, you knew it was time. You couldn’t continue the charade any longer.

Without warning, you stopped mid-song. The band fell silent, and the audience, confused and murmuring, watched as you raised a hand to signal the end of the concert.

“I want to meet three people,” you announced, your voice echoing through the venue. “Backstage. Now.”

The crowd erupted in whispers, confused but curious. The three hedgehogs were just as surprised, but they didn’t hesitate. Guided by a mix of disbelief and anticipation, they made their way backstage.

Once inside the privacy of your room, the atmosphere grew heavier. You leaned against the back of a lavish chair, your sun-like eyes gleaming with amusement as you looked over the three hedgehogs before you. For years, they had believed you were dead. The memory of that night, the blood, the chaos—it had been seared into their minds. And now here you stood, alive, and more powerful than ever.

A sneering smile curled at your lips as you crossed your arms, eyes flicking between them. “You really thought I was dead, huh?” You chuckled darkly. “You have no idea.”

Sonic’s fists clenched at his sides, confusion and shock flashing in his emerald eyes. “You died. We saw it happen. How… how are you standing here like nothing happened?”

Silver was quieter, still processing, while Shadow’s sharp gaze hadn’t left your face, his body rigid with tension as he waited for an explanation.

You straightened up, pushing off the chair and taking a slow step forward, your voice turning cold and calculated. “It was all a lie. Every single bit of it. I faked my death that night on stage.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. None of them spoke for a long moment, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

“Why?” Shadow asked, his voice low, almost growling. His red eyes were locked onto yours, demanding an answer.

You smiled again, this time more bitter than amused. “Because I had to. That night, when those bullets hit me, I realized something. My voice… it wasn’t just a talent. It was a weapon. A power. And I didn’t understand how to control it.” You took a deep breath, letting the gravity of your words sink in. “Every song I sang, every note I hit, could change the world around me. If I sang a sad song, the people listening would become depressed. If I sang something violent…”

Sonic flinched at the memory, recalling how the audience had descended into chaos after you were shot.

“I could have caused a disaster,” you continued, pacing slowly as you spoke. “That’s what was happening the night I ‘died.’ The bullets, the riot—it wasn’t just bad luck. It was me. My voice made it happen. I sang a violent song, and it became reality.”

Silver’s eyes widened, piecing things together. “So… you faked your death to stop it? To stop hurting people?”

You nodded. “Yes. After that night, I knew I wasn’t safe to be around anyone. My powers were too unstable, too dangerous. I couldn’t risk more people getting hurt. So I disappeared. For ten years, I’ve been hiding, working on controlling my abilities, on recreating them in a way that I can harness them—without all the chaos.”

Sonic’s face was twisted with a mix of emotions, hurt and anger mixing together. “Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve helped you. We thought you were gone forever!”

You looked away for a moment, guilt flickering across your features before hardening again. “Because I didn’t need your help. I needed time. Alone. You wouldn’t have understood what I was trying to do. I had to figure it out on my own.”

Shadow, silent until now, stepped forward, his voice steely. “And now? What’s changed? You’ve revealed yourself again. Why?”

Your lips curled into a dark smile once more, your red eyes glowing as you met his gaze. “Because I’ve perfected it. I’ve mastered my voice. I’ve become more powerful than ever before. And now… it’s time for me to reclaim the world I left behind. I’m not the same popstar you used to protect. I’m something more.”

Silver frowned, his voice quiet but filled with concern. “But what about the danger? What if it happens again?”

You tilted your head slightly, your smile fading as you looked at him. “That’s the thing, Silver. It won’t happen again. Because now, I’m in control. I can decide who lives, who loves, who fights… and who dies.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of your words sinking in. You were no longer the person they once knew. You were something far more dangerous—and far more powerful.

[haetrack]

i just need to let this out bc i’m usually a hyuck girl but omg i’ve been obsessing over mark today… like fuck just him randomly having the horniest day of his life, so he ends up staring at the nudes u’ve send him or watching all these videos he’s recorded of u sucking him off, for HOURS. he’s just waiting around like a loser, hoping time moves faster till u come back home. eventually he can’t take it and starts palming himself over his sweats, and when that’s not enough, he slides his hand under his boxers, lightly stroking his hard cock. all he thinks about is u, the way ur lips wrap around him when ur on ur knees, the way ur back arches when he’s burrowed deep inside u. he grabs his phone immediately and facetimes u, elated when u pick up, greeting him with a small “hey” as u enter ur car. relieved that u weren’t in public, he wastes no time and picks up his pace. being able to see ur surprised face and hearing the gasp u let out upon realisation at what he was doing based off the whines leaving his mouth, just made his grip on himself so much harder and faster. mark thinks about how u whine and whimper in his ear with ur head on his shoulder, back to his chest as his fingers fuck in and out of u, his other hand applying pressure on ur clit. he almost comes when he hears u lightly breathe out “can i see, please?“. he curses under his breath and switches his camera around. he didn’t even bother taking his dick out, the shape of his hand desperately running up and down underneath his boxers and sweats was so lewd whilst still leaving much up to ur imagination. “ur doing so well baby, are u close?” u ask, “i wanna see u come, mark. i need u to take it out for me.” the deep groan that u hear from ur phone speakers makes u wanna go feral. he quickly follows ur request, his hard cock slapping against his stomach. his tip was so red and swollen, dripping with precum, making u wonder how long he’s been getting himself off for, considering u’ve never seen it this bad. the moan u accidentally let out causes him to twitch in his hand. finally without the obstruction of his clothes, u see him rutting in his hand. u feed him with praises, amazed at how much faster and louder he gets the more u talk. ur sure he’s not even listening to the actual words ur saying, just the sound of ur voice was getting him off. he opens his eyes after having them clenched the last few minutes, seeing his beautiful girlfriend’s face on his screen and noticing ur now heavy breathing, sends him over the edge. strings of cum land on his toned stomach and he catches some of it with his hand, continuing to stroke himself with it, emanating wet, sloppy sounds that bless ur ears. the groan he’s about to let out catches in his throat when he hear u say, “don’t move, i wanna clean u up.” the roar of ur car engine turning on and the facetime ending.

phew, had to put this out somewhere before i went to sleep 🧏‍♀️

holy shit. what. What

anon how could u just drop this in my inbox and go to sleep like u didn’t just write the craziest thing ever… ANON PLEASE…

just the thought of him being so horny and need you to get off… yeah. yeah. then when you get to his apartment he’d be all over you, trying to get you as close as possible. if you feel nice, you’ll let him cum as much as he needs to, grunts of your name filling the air as your hand glides over him and your mouth sucking on his tip. if you’re feeling mean, you’ll edge him, making him beg for you to let him cum, hips fucking into your fist.

even if you decide to let him fuck you, you’d ask him to beg for it. he doesn’t care, practically begging to fuck your dripping hole, no shame left in his body after being horny all day. he needs you. it doesn’t matter what position, his aching cock needs to be inside of you.

[merakiui]

Would you make a list ranking which unique magics and they potentials are hottest to you 👀

👀 OMG YES???? Thank you for this opportunity, anon!!! I have so many thoughts about the unique magics!!

Here is my grand list:

1. Off With Your Head - this one is very self-explanatory. The control, the collar, the way it makes you unable to use your magic, Riddle’s sheer mastery over it and how he uses it so often in the game……. orz immensely hot to me.

2. Snake Whisper - the hypnosis and helplessness of the target paired with Jamil’s very obvious lust for power and control. The way we makes you call him master as well……. so yummy!!!

3. Dark Fire - no one understands Rollo’s charm more than I do. What do you mean his UM is fueled by the fear and distress of others, thus making it stronger?!?!?! OTL that has so much potential. I love it so much.

4. Shock the Heart - I would’ve placed this one lower only because it has so much appeal and yet it can only be used once on a person, but perhaps you can argue that makes it even hotter. Regardless, I love everything about Jade’s UM. The magical chant, the way you must look into his eye, the beautiful imagery the manga blessed us with… 😵‍💫 being forced to tell the truth no matter what…….

5. Laugh With Me - another one that’s so great for control. Ruggie’s UM would be so great for (forced) mutual masturbation. But also,,, it has the potential to be used in such horrifying ways. >:)

6. Split Card - clones. Gangbang. Need I say anymore?

7. Doodle Suit - I like the mind games that can come from this. Not knowing what’s your reality and what’s fantasy whenever Trey uses his UM is so hot. T^T I NEED HIM.

8. Fae of Maleficence - I think it’s more so the overwhelming power and horrifying range of this UM that makes it so attractive. Malleus is terrifyingly strong and this UM always reminds me of that, amongst other moments in the plot. In Idia’s words, truly a final boss.

9. Life is Fun - Fellow’s UM………. WOW. Maybe it deserves to be higher on the list, but because I’ve yet to officially experience Fellow in the game I will place it within this humble top ten. :D even so, it has too much potential and I love it.

10. It’s a Deal - hear me out……. this is such an overpowered UM and it’s all Azul’s to use (and abuse) as he pleases. Having such a dangerous UM where, if not for the contract, he would be more susceptible to overblot. AAAAAAA HE’S SO FINE. The UM chant is amazing, tako’s greed, the amount of powers he can build up because there seems to be no limit to the amount of contracts he makes!!! So hot to me. <3

11. Fairest One of All - Vil’s UM…… the ability to place a curse on anything that can’t be lifted until the conditions are met. AAAAAA SO MUCH POTENTIAL. OTL

12. I See You - this one is frightening but very on brand for Rook Hunt. ^^;;;; it makes stalking darling so much easier, but something tells me Rook wouldn’t use his UM because it defeats the thrill of hunting darling himself.

13. Meet in a Dream - this one is more whimsical than it is hot, but it still has plenty of potential because dreams can be anything and everything. There’s never any logic to them. Also,,, I love the idea of darling constantly seeing a silver-haired prince in their dreams. The dream sex surely goes crazy. :)

14. King’s Roar - it’s so powerful omg,,, more so that than it is hot. The only circumstance I can think of in which it’s hot is if Leona’s using it to turn all of your clothes to sand, but why would he need magic for that when he can easily take them off himself. ;D

15. Sleep Kiss - Epel’s UM is so dainty and Victorian to me. The glass coffin…… that’s so pretty. orz the way it also puts you to sleep,,, somno with Epel?!?!?!

16. Bind the Heart - I’m sorry the ranking is so low, Floyb. >_< it’s another UM that’s very good in a fight. I like it a lot, especially the way he says it hehe.

17. Far Cry Cradle - this one is very interesting!! I absolutely see the vision with it. Just not a lot of horny vision, unless it’s a scenario where he casts it on your sex toy or something just to play that memory back. >:3c

18. Unleash Beast - this one is so cute to me. Jack turning into a wolf is adorable. OTL thinking about how mesmerized the kids must be if and when he uses his UM back home. How exciting it is to climb up on his back and be carried around everywhere. :D I just think it’s very sweet.

19. Bet the Limit - this is great for fighting, but for things other than that,,,, but I do love how strong it is. Deuce’s UM is so cool. >w<

20. Oasis Maker - I AM SO SORRY, KALIM….. T^T I love his UM. I think it’s so fun!! Alas, it isn’t very hot in that sense to me. However, there are so many other aspects to Kalim that make him so wonderful hehe.

21. Gate to Underworld - it was incredibly attractive in book six. That sort of power,,,, sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Idia and Ortho were successful in resetting the world. Outside of book six, the UM loses a few aura points. STYX Idia will forever be famous to me.

22. Living Bolt - apologies in advance to Sebek. His UM is so cool!!!! Just,,, not the hottest of UMs. WAAAA I’M SORRY, SEBEK!!!! OTL

[mack-devereaux]

Hiii i wanna ask if ya can write something with Vince? Maybe him getting into a fight (so hot i love it) and hin hurting his wrist are something? And reader taking care of him afterwards. Plleeaassee

Vince Dunn

Omg this is my first request!! I’m so sorry it took so long! Also check out my other fic about Vince. I think they have a similar vibe. But This has no relation to that one. I had so much fun writing this. Just a reminder this is a work of fiction and my imagination, this is not based on true events. Thank you to the anon who requested!

Picture is from Pinterest, no triggers except for cursing and mentions of blood. I think that’s it! Enjoy!

When Vince first moved to Seattle he was excited. This was a brand new team and he had more opportunities to make a name for himself as one of the more aggressive defensemen in the NHL. He had always had a temper on the ice, even in his early days in high school and in the OHL, and he was good at running his mouth. He was always respectful to the medical training staff and the coaching staff, he never took his anger or frustration out on the people who helped him get back on the ice.

Did he cause the fights on purpose? Maybe.

Was he mad about being hauled into the cute medical trainers office to get patched up? Absolutely not. He enjoyed talking with y/n and getting to know her a bit better.

Did he cause fights just to see her? No, he truly has a passion for the sport, he just sometimes got a little too involved with the banter sometimes. However a perk to all this was those few minutes alone with y/n. Although she never really spoke to him much outside of work and was always very quiet he knew how passionate she was about her job. No matter what she was always so attentive to the injury and informative about what she was doing to help said injured player.

Y/n loved the energy of the home games, she typically didn’t get to travel very much with the team, only to close games, but something about the atmosphere of home games had her just buzzing with energy. Most of the time she got to watch the game from the tunnels, it was the perfect spot to see most of the game and it was easy to drag injured players back to the locker room to tend to the injuries. Tonight’s game was a home game against the Colorado Avalanche again, a team known to get the Kraken a little riled up. Just the week prior Vince had gotten himself into quite the scrum and ended up with a cut on his nose while playing against the Avalanche.

*flashback to a week prior*

Y/n was sitting in the medical room at Ball Arena, going through the medical kits organizing some of the supplies. She had heard the roar of the crowd and immediately knew there was a fight that happened. Shortly after that, the third period had ended. Hearing the players stomping down the tunnel shouting and cheering she already knew who was headed her direction.

“Vince..” y/n sighed pulling all her medical supplies back out.

“Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me” Vince chirped at the girl.

“You’re gonna have some serious damage to your nose if you don’t stop” y/n said as she was washing her hands and throwing her gloves on “I’m surprised you don’t have a permanent scar from how many times I’ve seen it busted”.

“That just means you are doing a great job babe. I’ve got you to thank for keeping me looking good” Vince smiles.

Y/n rolled her eyes and turned around trying to hide her blush. Knowing this was the exact reason as to why she fell for him. He was just so charming. He knew exactly what to say and that’s why she could never date him. That and the fact that she technically worked for the same organization as him. Were they coworkers? No, but surely it was still frowned upon. At least that’s what she told herself anyway. As she was cleaning off the blood from his nose she caught herself admiring him. He truly was one of the most beautiful people she’s ever laid eyes on. Once the bleeding stopped she checked for other injuries, and sent him to be with the rest of the team.

“Promise me you’ll keep out of trouble for at least the next week” she called to him as he walked away.

“For you? Never.” He added with a wink.

*present*

Five minutes left in the third period and y/n had gotten to watch maybe 10 minutes total of the game. Partially because she didn’t like seeing Vince fight much, and because the players definitely kept her busy. This was probably the most bloody noses and knuckles she had tended to in her entire career. Normally the crowd goes crazy and encourages fights, and she definitely enjoyed that. But for some reason she couldn’t stomach seeing Vince getting hurt. I guess she had Cupids arrow to thank for that. After a few more minutes gloves went flying, curse words were being yelled and the crowd went wild. Reluctantly she looked over in front of the players bench and Vince had thrown a Colorado player on his back.

“Oh for fucks sake Vince” she muttered under her breath.

“You got him or do you want me to take care of him this time” the head medical trainer asked y/n chuckling and shaking his head.

Y/n looked across the ice as Vince and the Avalanche player got tossed in their respective sin bins, she sees that Vince has his helmet off and is holding his wrist.

“I think he hurt his wrist, do you see him messing with it?” y/n points to Vince.

“I’ll take a look when we get back there but I’m sure he’s fine. I think you can handle it after that” the trainer says as they walk back to the locker room.

After the game y/n was in her office waiting for Vince, it had been nearly 40 minutes since the game ended. What was taking him so long? She knew Coach had told him to stop by after their after game meetings and interviews. While she was waiting she decided to tidy up and clean a bit. As she was cleaning her desk she found the puck that Vince had signed and gave to her earlier that year.

*flashback to late last season*

Y/n was standing behind the players bench. It was the last home game for the season, then they were headed into playoffs. Looking onto the ice she watched the players warm up and interact with fans. Vince was watching y/n as he was skating in circles, getting a boost of confidence he picked up a puck and signed it with a note. Smirking he passed by and shouted “hey y/n! Catch!”

Panicking y/n shot both of her hands in front of her face as the head medical trainer caught the puck before it smacked her in the face.

“Really Dunn?!” Y/n shouted.

Vince grinned and skated off, shaking her head she looked at the puck she noticed it said “hey pretty girl” with his signature. Blushing she shoved it in her pocket before she could get scolded.

“Oh he’s so got it bad for you” the trainer said.

“Leave the chirping to the players would you” y/n muttered “besides it’s not like I can date him anyway.”

“Technically…”

“Don’t tempt me” y/n sighed “my heart can’t handle the heartbreak that comes with that one.” She continued to watch him skate around and talk to his teammates with a huge smile on his face.

*back to present*

Y/n smiled at the memory. Not knowing she wasn’t alone, because of course Vince would walk in at that very moment. Leaning up against the doorframe Vince coughed snapping her back to reality.

“My God Vince, now you choose to be quiet? You scared me” y/n shoved the puck back into the drawer.

“I’ll make sure to knock next time” he softly smiled. He totally saw that she still had the puck and it definitely boosted his ego.

“Let me see your wrist” y/n said.

“It’s fine” he muttered.

“If it’s fine let me double check then” y/n challenged.

Vince walked over and sat down on the bench in her office, while reluctantly holding his wrist out. He watched her face as she examined his wrist.

“I think if we wrap it for tonight and tomorrow you should be fine, but the swelling needs to go down significantly before you play again. I’ll clear you for practice but you have to be easy on your arm for the next few days” y/n said as she was grabbing the necessary supplies.

“Thank you for taking care of me y/n, I’m sorry for fighting” Vince whispered.

She smiled at him as she sat down and started wrapping his wrist. Knowing full well that he was watching her face closely the entire time.

“I’ll walk you to your car” Vince said.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you” y/n said as she turned back to him after putting the supplies away. With yet another boost of confidence Vince grabbed her by the waist and pulled her face to his and kissed her, she immediately kissed him back. The kiss was short and sweet. Electricity shot through her body and she felt as if she was on fire. After pulling away y/n whispered “we should go.” Neither of them saying anything as they left the arena. Vince was feeling defeated for the first time in a long time, why hadn’t she said anything? Did he over step? Did he make her uncomfortable? A million more discouraging thoughts ran through his head. Him not knowing she was in shock and on cloud nine all at once. Y/n unlocked her car and opened the door. Before she got in she turned to Vince and pulled his face to hers and slammed her lips onto his. Vince cockily smiled into he kiss and pulled her into him as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. After a few minutes they both pulled away, breathing heavy and trying to get as close as possible to each other.

“Thank you for walking me to my car Vince.”

“Let me know when you get home so I know you’re safe.”

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[shadowqueenjude]

Sluttiest quotes from Lorcan

Omg RoWaN iS tHe HoTtEsT character in TOG!

“Come a little closer, and I’ll show you just what five centuries can do.” “Watch yourself, girl. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in a week, but someday you will trip up. And I’ll be waiting." “No words, Prince?” “I move quickly.” “Assassins, whores, traitors—what fine company you keep these days, Rowan.” “Is that what you thought of us? All those years that we worked together, killed men and bedded females together? I never heard you complain.” “Run, you stupid fool,” Lorcan hissed, hauling him from the fuse. Aedion was crouched over it, his bloody hands steady as he grasped the flint and struck. Once. Twice. Then a spark, and a flame that went roaring off into the darkness. They ran like hell. “Faster,” Lorcan said, and Aedion caught up to them, taking Rowan’s other arm and adding his strength and speed. Down the passage. Past the broken iron gates, into the sewers. There was not enough time and space between them and the tower. And Aelin— The bond stretched tighter, splintering. No. Aelin— They heard it before they felt it. The utter lack of sound, like the world had paused. Followed by a cracking boom. “Move,” Lorcan said, a barked order that had Rowan blindly obeying just as he had for centuries. "Gavriel is still my brother. I would have faced him with dishonor if I had let his son die.” “I have my skills, just as you have yours.” “Bigger tits won’t prove or hide anything.” “Come, wife.” “Would you like me to kill him for you?” “If you want to survive, you have to be willing to do what is necessary.” “As far as anyone’s concerned, you’re still my wife.” "I will always find you. I promise." “I wanted to go to Perranth with you.” “I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken. I will be with you always." “I will marry you, Elide Lochan. And proudly call myself Lord Lorcan Lochan, even when the whole kingdom laughs to hear it. And when we are wed, I will bind my life to yours. So we will never know a day apart. Never be alone, ever again.” Lorcan Salvaterre, commander of the cadre? More like commander of my heart.

[cobaltperun]

Woe out the Storm (3) - Thunder

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 4k

-I was lightning before the thunder-

The Harvest Festival, frankly, you preferred it over the Outreach Day, for plenty of reasons. One of which was easily the fact you could just kick back and relax instead of working for people that despised everything you and other students were against your free will. You and Enid always made sure to have as much fun as possible, as long as weather allowed it.

The only issue was you couldn't relax this year. Wednesday would escape tonight, meaning tonight was Rowan's last chance to try something. And you feared he would get desperate, but you didn’t think there was a way for him to get Wednesday away from everyone.

And then there was Galpin... Talking with his father. Now, you did hear he stopped bullying people with the other three, but you found it difficult to forgive and forget.

You frowned and looked at Wednesday. "Really, Galpin is the one driving you?" you couldn't help but ask.

"I don't see how it concerns you," Wednesday replied.

You nodded, simply choosing to back away. Wednesday wasn't helpless, and who she interacted with definitely didn't have anything to do with you.

"Obvious dislike aside, are you sure you can trust that normie?" Enid asked, though she did send you a bit of a teasing smile.

"I trust that I can handle myself," Wednesday replied. Considering what she did against Bianca you found it difficult to disagree.

"Well, good luck and safe travels," Enid stepped toward her with her arms spread wide, only for Wednesday to decisively take a step back. "Still not a hugger. Got it," Enid shrugged, smiling at the girl.

"If you change your mind a third of that room is going to stay yours," you grinned.

"Until Weems puts someone else in," Wednesday told you.

Your grin turned into a smirk as you lifted your hand up and allowed a few red sparks to appear around it. Just for a moment you thought you saw a spark of interest in Wednesday's eyes as she observed the sparks. "Nope, I'll personally make them ask for another room." you promised, your red eyes meeting Wednesday’s black eyes.

Enid coughed and elbowed your side.

You winced. She sometimes forgot her strength. "Nicely, of course, I'll keep my lightning to myself."

Wednesday tilted her head to the side by less than an inch. "Pity," she said.

You leaned to the side, shifting most of your weight to your right foot, you weren't sure how to take those words. "Since I won't be seeing you again, I, uh, I think you're great with the cello," there, a compliment to end the brief time together. That shouldn't make Wednesday uncomfortable, right?

Her eyes met yours once more and you felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity of her stare. "Thank you," she eventually spoke up and the three of you parted ways soon after.

The moment Wednesday was out of sight Enid clasped your shoulder and smiled sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, Y/N."

"Huh?" what was she talking about? Sorry for what?

"You don't have to pretend, I don't get what you see in her, but you don't have to hide it from me," somehow Enid got the wrong idea.

You sighed. This was your life now. Enid thought you had unrequited feelings for Wednesday. "Look, I know I can't change your mind," she enthusiastically nodded at that. "So, I’ll take a page out of Wednesday's book, somewhat. If you gossip about those feelings you claim I have, I'll fry your stuffed unicorn collection."

Enid squealed and bounced excitedly. "OMG! You do have feelings for her!" she wasn't going to let this go and you didn't even know how she came to that conclusion! Her eyes widened suddenly. "Go after her! Go!" in less than a second she was behind you and pushing you in the direction Wednesday went. "At least find a way to exchange letters with her if you can't convince her to stay!"

"Enid," you groaned, facepalming as you dug your feet into the ground to try and keep her from pushing you. All that achieved was two rows of dug up ground behind you. From the corner of your eye you saw Rowan, even more agitated and anxious than he was back when you confronted him in his and Xavier's room. "I have to go," you said, moving so abruptly Enid stumbled and almost fell to the ground.

~X~

Wednesday only touched Rowan for a moment, but it was more than enough. She saw flashes, glimpses of what was to come, all vague and unrelated, painting a picture she couldn't understand. She saw the purple book, the flames, the tree in the quad breaking into pieces, the raven surrounded by lightning, a glimpse of a blonde woman holding a bloodied hand and crying as blue eyes closed, red eyes turning orange, herself surrounded by cloud of dust and smoke with a huge beast surrounded by lightning standing over her trapping her, Rowan screaming as he was being torn apart by claws. And then the vision stopped

"Rowan, come back!" she ran after him, ignoring Tyler calling after her. She didn't understand why she was running, why she wished to prevent the last vision from coming true. Perhaps she just wanted to see if everything she saw was true, or if it somehow could be changed.

"Rowan, wait!" she shouted as she followed him deeper into the woods, the only signs of the festival that remained were occasional flashes of firework and the sounds they made.

Rowan stopped and turned toward her, furious and looking unhinged. "Argh! What do you want? Why are you following me?!"

"I don't have time to explain, but you're in danger," she wouldn't tell him about the vision, she didn't know how much time she had.

"I think you've got it backwards," he lifted his hand and suddenly Wednesday felt an invisible force lifting her up and slamming her back into a tree.

Even with her pain tolerance she still grunted, feeling the trunk digging into her back uncomfortably.

"You're the one who's in danger!" Rowan told her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, and though she struggled it was futile. She couldn't get free.

"Saving everyone from you," he grunted, straining to keep her pinned to the tree. "I have to kill you."

She’d be lying if she said no one ever wanted to kill her, Rowan was the first to actually try though. That's when she pieced it together. "The gargoyle, that was you?"

"Yeah," he even smiled a bit, as if relieved he no longer had to hide it.

"It's always the quiet ones," Wednesday commented as a piece of paper floated out of Rowan's pocket and unfolded in front of her. She saw a girl, dressed in black, with the background that looked like quad, only on fire.

"Girl in the picture, that's you," he said, she could feel the strain in his voice, but the force pinning her to a tree only got stronger.

"You want to kill me because of some picture?!" that was a ridiculous reason to kill someone, even for her standards.

"My mother drew that picture 25 years ago when she was a student at Nevermore! She was a powerful Seer. Told me about it before she died," Rowan yelled, as if that fact made his excuse for trying to kill her any better.

"Rowan, put me down," she demanded, his powers made it harder to breathe. He was choking her; he wasn't going to stop. That’s what she got for trying to help.

"No! My mother said it was my destiny to stop this girl if she ever came to Nevermore because she will destroy the school and everyone in it!" he cried out as Wednesday became unable to breathe.

"Rowan! Let her go!" she heard your voice and looked to the side, just as you threw a knife toward Rowan. Your aim was awful. He didn't even need to move and it would miss him by at least two feet.

And then she saw it, just as the knife was about to reach Rowan, your body was engulfed in red lightning and you disappeared, your entire body shifting into lightning and bursting forth toward the knife. Wednesday watched, speechless as your body regained form right in front of Rowan, the knife in your left hand, and you, too fast for him to react.

You slammed your fist into his guts, sending him flying back, though she couldn't help but notice you didn't use lightning for the punch, just the natural momentum and strength you had. It still sent Rowan flying.

It also broke his hold on Wednesday and you threw the knife toward the tree, zapping toward it just in time to catch her before she fell to the ground. Wednesday blinked, still dazed by what just happened as you set her down and knelt in front of her. you weren't touching her, but she could clearly see the concern in your eyes.

"Are you hurt?" you asked, looking for any visible signs of injuries.

"I'm fine," she denied having any injuries. What were you thinking? That she'd show vulnerability to you just like that?

"Y/N!" Rowan enraged, bellowed as he got up to his knees and raised his arm. Your eyes widened as you were pulled into the air.

"Wait, Rowan!" Wednesday found herself shouting as she tried to get up.

"I'll kill you after I'm done with Y/N!" he had lost his mind completely, the madness in his eyes made that clear.

"Bring it! I'll show you exactly why Weems and the staff dread the storms!" you thundered, lightning gathered around you and began concentrating in a ball above your head. It was already two feet wide and it was only growing larger, though slowly. "Give up or I'll drop this on you! Forget all this madness!" despite the anger she could hear you pleading deep down for Rowan to just listen to you.

You never got a chance to do so, as a monster emerged from the shadows and grabbed Rowan, slicing and tearing him apart with its claws.

You dropped to the ground, landing on one knee. You were too surprised by the monster's appearance to maintain the ball of lightning. The monster turned to look at you two, with its bulging eyes, hunched back, sharp claws and greyish skin it was unlike anything Wednesday saw in her life.

"That's an," did you recognize the monster? "...oversized Gollum?" she expected too much from you...

~X~

The oversized Gollum fled and you and Wednesday were left with Rowan's corpse. You didn't need to be an expert to see he was ripped open by those claw and dead.

You watched, wondering if there was anything you could have done. You had your lightning ready, but you just couldn't react in time. Were you going to hurt Rowan? Yeah, as far as that went you couldn't say you were any better than the monster that attacked him, but you weren't going to kill him, as strong as the lightning you gathered looked. You were going to aim for the ground in front of him, close enough to knock him out from the shock, but not nearly close enough to kill him.

You were frantically looking around, searching for any signs of the monster coming back, but it looked like it really left.

"We need to get someone," there was an urgency in Wednesday's voice you didn't quite expect, but you could see her legs shaking slightly. Shock from Rowan's death? No. She didn't look shaken. Was it the hit she took when he tossed her into the tree?

Deciding that it was probably that you nodded and followed closely behind her, just in case she couldn't keep standing. Damn Xavier for slowing you down, maybe all of this could have been avoided if you were only a minute quicker.

The first person you came across was Bianca and you noticed Wednesday faltering just for a split second. "Rowan was killed by a monster, I don't have time to explain, just get someone," Wednesday opened straight with that.

Bianca's eyes widened. "Are you crazy? What are you talking about?"

But before Wednesday could reply she began falling forward. "Wednesday," you caught her and turned her around in your arms. She was unconscious. "Bianca we both saw him get killed. Get someone, I need to take Wednesday back to the dorm," you knew you were putting your life at risk by doing so, and that Wednesday probably knew roughly a thousand different ways to inflict pain, give or take a few hundred, and that she'd be more than eager to put you through them. You still picked her up. "Please don't wake up," you pleaded, but your gaze softened. Wednesday looked peaceful and you couldn't help but notice how light and small she actually was. "I got you, I know you can't hear me, but I got you."

~X~

In the most ridiculous turn of events Rowan was actually alive, even though he clearly got killed less than 24 hours ago. How was that possible? You had no idea. You just knew the entire school thought you and Wednesday made that up.

So here you were, once more zapping to his room as he was finishing his packing. “Hey there, zombie, I didn’t know telekinesis brought people back to life,” you came in, eyes still red as he spun around and backed away.

“You should not be here, Y/N.” he told you sternly making you roll your eyes.

“And you shouldn’t be alive,” you said, lightning crackling around you.

He huffed, looking away for a moment. “As you can see I am perfectly healthy,” he said, almost mockingly.

You had enough and pushed him against the wall, pinning him as he gasped your name. “Doesn’t feel good, does it? Why did you try to kiss Wednesday, twice by the way?” you demanded, but this felt wrong, he wasn’t fighting back, he should still be able to knock you away with his powers, yet here he was, not doing anything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I was just on a stroll when you and Wednesday interrupted me,” he claimed, even though just last night he sounded eager to share everything.

You raised an eyebrow. “You actually interrupted us, remember?” you pulled away from him.

His eyes widened for a moment. “That, I didn’t intend to interrupt you, I apologize,” he raised his hands, acting embarrassed and that was all you needed.

Could you force whoever this was to reveal their identity? Probably. Pain was a good motivator, but there was also a chance you’d be doing it for nothing. You also lacked other information. Who else was working with them? Surely one person couldn’t cover up Rowan’s murder, so you kept your mouth shut.

“We’ll talk again, Rowan,” you jumped out of the window, zapping away from the dormitory.

~X~

It was like a déjà vu, what she was seeing. Only it was way worse this time. And interrupted? Was there already something romantic going on between you and Wednesday? Weems couldn’t know for sure, but she knew it couldn’t end well.

Yet even if she knew that she also knew there was nothing she could do to stop it.

~X~

Rowan was dead, that much was clear, but you needed an evidence. So, here you were, in the woods, looking for anything physical that could prove the two of you weren’t crazy.

And you found it, you found Rowan’s glasses with drops of blood on them. With glasses in your hand you went back to your dorm.

When you came back to the room you found Wednesday and Thing at her table, looking at the drawing she took from Rowan. You placed the glasses on her table, near Thing. "Someone is covering this up," you went to her other side and leaned back against her table, your hands gripping the edge of it.

"These are Rowan's. You went to the woods?" she demanded, looking at you with slightly widened eyes.

You nodded. "I wasn't sure if the oversized Gollum was still there, so I went alone," you heard tapping and saw Thing rapidly signing to you. Somehow you understood. You’ve been trying to learn morse code, well, more than the fun basic stuff and while you needed him to slow down at times you were getting there. And Thing was incredibly patient with you over the past week, even though Wednesday wanted to escape. "I wasn't being reckless, I'm a raiju," in your mind that was all the explanation you needed to give.

"Don't do that again," Wednesday ordered firmly. "I want to make sure we don't miss any clues," she said simply.

“Speaking of clues, someone who can shapeshift is covering up Rowan’s murder. It isn’t him,” you told her.

Wednesday turned all of her attention to you. “How do you know?”

“I lied,” you shrugged. “I don’t know anyone in the school with that ability, but I do know they shouldn’t be able to replicate abilities. His telekinesis, or,” you let your eyes turn red. “Me being a raiju for example.”

Wednesday thought about it. “I want you to prove to me you are a raiju whenever we meet up,” she pretty much ordered, and you could see the logic behind it.

“I won’t have to worry about them shifting to look like you,” you grinned, after all, they’d have to blink, and mimic Wednesday’s behavior and that was not easy.

She didn’t look amused, but there was a bit of an unspoken promise between the two of you, you would keep this to yourselves, acting like you didn’t know what the one covering Rowan’s murder could do. And then Wednesday showed you the drawing she took from Rowan’s corpse. "I need to know what this is about."

That made sense. "Any clues as to where that's from?"

"No," she then pointed at the upper right corner. "But I noticed this just before you came in," there was a mark there, it was faint, but you could see it.

"Looks like a flower? I guess?" you couldn't offer much aside from that. You've never seen it before.

"Let's go to the library," she stood up from her chair and Thing went into her bag.

“You can go ahead first, I’ll join you in a bit,” you figured she was too eager to search for the book to let you go into the library first.

“Why?” she immediately asked.

You looked away, embarrassed. “The rumors, I guess? Most people go to the library for reasons that don’t have anything to do with books, if you get what I mean,” when she remained silent, and more importantly when she maintained that same look that inquired you to keep going, you were left with no other choice but to sigh and elaborate. “Making out. Most people make out in the library. So, we go there together, and it won’t take Enid’s vlog for half the school to think we’re doing the same,” she was already deemed a psycho by most of the school, and the rumors that she killed someone could still be heard every now and then. Add in the fact that the entire school thought the two of you made up Rowan’s murder and as far as you were concerned the last thing Wednesday needed right now was for people to think she was with a raiju of all outcast groups.

Wednesday just frowned, tilting her head the same way she did during the festival. “Do not assume I care about such trivial rumors. Come on,” she was already halfway to the doors by the time you processed what she just said.

“Wednesday, I’m a raiju,” you reminded her, but still followed. She wasn’t going to stop and talk about this.

“I don’t see an issue with that, lightning beast. You can back out if you’re so sensitive about rumors,” she said evenly, there wasn’t a hint of hesitation, or any emotion in her voice, it was as if she was just stating a fact.

You could just watch her back, not entirely sure how to feel at the moment. “It’s not me I’m worried about.”

That got Wednesday to stop and turn around to look at you. “Then you should know I don’t care if they think I’m with you,” she just said it. As if she didn’t just say it didn’t matter what you were. That it didn’t matter you were a raiju. Sure, there were more dangerous outcasts, but raiju were solitary creatures. Docile, but uncontrollable, and you weren’t talking about just storms. That could be controlled, with time and practice you’d be able to stay in the rain and not worry about uncontrollable discharges. No, it was the beast form. Untamable, driven by instincts, unable to speak or fully grasp the situation it was in. Lightning is only capable of destruction and that form was the embodiment of lightning. Even with all the efforts you put into learning how to control your lightning you’d never, under any but direst circumstances, willingly shift into the actual raiju form.

Your father, as much as he cared about his roommate while at Nevermore, still lost control when he shifted, and the man and his brother barely avoided being killed during a particularly bad storm. The fear of doing the same was what made you so adamant on staying in control all the time.

And here Wednesday was, acting as if rumors about her being with a raiju wouldn’t bother her.

All you could was to let out a weak laugh and go after the girl to the library.

~X~

Basically bursting into the library, the two of you were met with the sight you expected to see. Heavy make out session of two students, vampires this time. You awkwardly looked to the side, not really wanting to meet their eyes as they fled the library, embarrassed to be caught.

Wednesday, for whatever reason, and against your expectations, didn’t seem to be affected by what she saw. She just went straight into searching for the book. Thing got out of her backpack and began searching as well, so you did too. You looked for anything purple that had the mark on the page Wednesday had.

"I keep seeing that same purple book," Wednesday said to thing after you showed her yet another shade of purple that didn’t match what she was looking for.

Apparently, Thing didn’t have much luck either. "The cover was darker, more like a day-old contusion, keep looking."

“That’s one way to describe a color,” you grinned at her, but before she could reply, if she was even going to reply, the doors opened and the two of you looked up to see Thornhill at the top of the stairs. Thing quickly hid behind the books.

"I don't usually find students in here looking for actual books," Thornhill said as she came down the stairs. "Most sneak in to make out."

"We accidentally walked in on two vampires fanging, I can't unsee that," Wednesday said and you looked away, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I’ll come back later, if you don’t mind,” you said, not really wanting to spend time with the woman. You couldn’t get the look in her eyes out of your head whenever you saw her. That look of fear she had when she saw you electrocuting Tyler and his friends on the previous Outreach day. It was barely stronger than a taser, but it could have been stronger, and no matter what was said or done your and Thornhill’s relationship was permanently and irrevocably damaged. Hence, why you didn’t pay attention to her classes and did the tests just well enough to pass them.

"Sorry about that, I'm afraid Y/N and I got off on the wrong foot," you heard Thornhill saying as you left the library.

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— BORN FOR LOVING YOU

REQUEST : “Omg do you think you Could do the whole gets caught reading smut but with Sam instead please!!!” — @bookobsessedfreak

PAIRING : sam winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : dean winchester

WARNINGS : nsfw(18+), fluff, smut, fingering, praise kink, pussy slapping, cum kisses, unprotected sex (Sam’s too smart for that, no smooth brains allowed), rough sex, dom!sam, awkwardness

WORD COUNT : 5.3k

A/N : surprise for the sam girlies! title from big thief’s song. i never imagined I’d end up writing for sam, but hey, he’s so silly, I loved writing him. saw the book Chasing Love by Kat T. Masen on an Instagram reel LOL and it inspired this. I hope this is what you were expecting <333

Sam knew you loved reading. He never asked what it was read despite the obviously exotic covers on the books you carried around.

He stared at you when you opened them up shamelessly in front of him, watching the expressions on your face. He noticed when you’d bite your lip at a certain page, the slack-jawed focus when you really settled into it, the consideration as your eyes trailed away after rereading a section, and the confusion that furrowed your brows at other times.

He thought you looked cute. The blush that settled over your face was hard to hide, as the soft locks of your hair curtained your face. Other times you’d giggle, a sound that he loved hearing from you, and you’d slam the book down, startling him and Dean. Then, you’d compose yourself with a polite smile and a clear of your throat when Sam raised a brow at you. When Dean tried to take the book from you to see what excited you, you’d snatch it up off the table away from his grasp and he’d stick his tongue out at you before refocusing on the movie he was watching on his laptop.

Sam liked those moments: while he was absorbed in his research, you were reading and giggling, and Dean would roar out a laugh at the videos he’d watch. It was comfortable to be surrounded by his girlfriend and his brother, at peace for a few moments at least.

You were secretive about your books at first, and if it wasn’t for Dean, you never would’ve started to be comfortable about it.

Dean was like a brother to you and you loved him to death.

He found out about your book when he dug into your bag after you asked him to take a shirt out for you after your shower. When he felt the hard surface of a book, he was intrigued. Why would you carry around a book in your bag? He’d never seen you read, never saw you write in a journal, so he pulled it out for a quick peek, but he instead began to read the book which was underneath the stack of shirts you kept inside.

You’d stepped outside the bathroom in annoyance, shouting at Dean for taking so long. You stared at Dean with wide eyes and red face when you saw the familiar book in his hands. He’d closed it and then laughed at you, settling it down deep inside your bag, before handing you a shirt.

“You and Sammy must have lots of fun…” he’d joked thoughtlessly, then he grimaced when you snatched the shirt from him with a glare. “Actually, I don’t wanna think about that,” he frowned and shook his head, turning away when you silently asked for privacy.

“I’m never asking you for a favour,” you grumbled, throwing the towel to the floor when you put her clothes on.

“What? Why?” Dean complained, turning to look at you carefully. “So you read porn? Whatever, man! Have you seen the magazines in my room? Or the porn I leave open on Sam’s computer?” At that, he snickered and you gave him a pointed look, starting to brush your partially dry hair to detangle it.

He sighed and sat down on the bed in front of you, biting his lip as he thought about what to say. You were pretty shy sometimes, but feisty, he didn’t know why you’d be ashamed or embarrassed about porn. It’s not like you were a virgin, or like you and Sam hadn’t done the deed plenty of times.

“Do you really think me or Sam actually care that you wanna read stuff like this?” He asked, watching you slowly move your gaze to his. “Sam has porn under his bed, I’m sure you know, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Neither of us are gonna judge you, okay?”

“I know that,” you chuckled, shrugging. You set the brush down and sighed, thinking about why you feel embarrassed by it when you know how weird Dean’s taste in porn is and that Sam isn’t as much of a prude as everyone thinks he is. “I guess… maybe I’m not very comfortable with myself and sex.. I don’t know, it’s weird,” you admitted, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Hey,” Dean said, getting you to look up at him, “that’s fine. You just gotta get used to it, and uh, seriously, don’t hide what you like, okay? I’m sure it’ll make stuff between you and Sam… uh, spicier? Ah, shit, that’s gross.. maybe uh, more transparent? You know what I mean,” Dean rambled, slapping your knee very hard.

You laughed and shoved him away, considering his words as he got up with a chuckle to get back to cleaning the guns.

That was the start of your journey with being comfortable about sex. It really made you feel better. At first, as you tested the waters, you’d join in on whatever sexual innuendo Dean dropped, he’d been stunned by your lewdness, but he laughed anyway. Sam chuckled softly, for the first time, and it made Dean pick a fight with him for it.

You and Dean became close, definitely started to compete on who could be dirtier, with Sam either uncomfortable or red in the face from the things that were coming out of your mouth. Dean encouraged you, dared you to tease Sam, confident and sultry, until you left him speechless, flustered, and horny.

It was a game for you now, something fun and without shame. You’d never been more comfortable with yourself and sex like you were now, realising and learning things about yourself that you didn’t know and finding out what you liked with Sam.

It brought the two of you closer, somehow, and it was amazing. Sam wasn’t complaining either, at least not when it was just the two of you. It was a whole new level of love and romance you’d reached together, a level neither of you were aware was waiting for you to discover.

So, here he was, sitting in the dark library with your newest book, only a lamp at the table lighting up the text. Dean had gone out to meet some girl he’d been texting for a few days for a quick fuck. You were hanging out with your friends, catching up with them after a long time of not having seen each other.

Sam had gone out to buy groceries in the meantime, trying to get his mind off those books that clearly drove you crazy, but by the end of all the chores—the cleaning, the organising, the clothes washing—he had nothing to do but wait for you to get back.

He scrolled through news articles on his laptop, checked his phone multiple times for any new messages, but he evenly gave up on his restraint. With a long sigh of frustration, he made his way to your room, stared at your neat shelf and picked out the book you’d recently received from one of your girlfriends.

He snorted as he looked over the cover, Chasing Love. He hesitated as he quickly flipped through the book, the smell of crisp, new paper wafting up to his nose. He guiltily turned around after carefully reading the Blurb in the first few pages, walking out of your room with the book in hand.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to read it at first. He kept it beside him as he boredly scrolled through lore, but he’d glance at it in between tasks and his heart thumped in his chest, heat flooding his body.

He squirmed in his seat and grabbed the book without a second thought, searching for the first chapter, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. He huffed out a breath and cleared his throat, looking around as if Cas would pop in and catch him in the middle of this.

He slowly started to settle into the book, his laptop shut off after fifteen minutes and he was already absorbed into the book, the words and the characters starting to flow through his imagination.

His eyes trailed away from the words sometimes, replaying the first sex scene in his mind as himself and you. He wondered if you liked it, how it’d make you feel if he did it, and why you never brought any of this up when it was this hot.

The memory of your warm skin beneath his hands and your soft lips moulding against his made his cock stir. He chewed on his lip and continued to read, recomposing himself, thinking of you the whole time.

As he read, page by page, he tried to remember what you looked like when you read this. He remembers the frustration making you frown, irritation making you roll your eyes and set the book down, how you did lots of thinking on certain pages while biting your lip or with disgust written on your face, and the arousal flustering you. He understood now which parts intrigued you and why.

The book was infuriating at times and the main characters irked him, but he couldn’t stop and just wanted to get to the end. Unfortunately, the universe had other plans, and the metallic door of the Bunker’s entrance groaned loudly, snapping Sam out of his daze.

He looked around, panicked and grabbed the book he was reading to hide it in between all the other books on the shelves. He scrambled back to his seat as the door slammed shut and turned his laptop on, settling into his chair to pretend he was still working on research.

His stomach fluttered when you shouted his name playfully, the tune of a song sweetening your voice. You sounded happier, relaxed, and he smiled, standing up to meet you where the war table lit up at the bottom of the staircase.

He greeted you with a kiss on the lips, sweet and quick, but your hands held his jaw in place and you pushed yourself up on your toes to kiss him harder. He moaned softly, pressing his hands into the small of your back so you were squished against him completely.

“Hi,” you whispered against his lips. He gave you a softer kiss and smiled lovingly at you, wrapped one of his arms around you to keep you close and raised his hand to cup the side of your face.

“Hey, how’d it go?” He leaned down to kiss you again before you answered, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek.

“Really great, I guess I really needed that,” you admitted, closing your eyes to his touch. “I did miss you though. I’m so used to spending every second of my life with you.” Your eyes fluttered open and he was already gazing at you, admiring you.

You didn’t always have time to get dolled up with hunting taking up most of your time, and if you’re ever pretending to be professionals, you keep the makeup natural and to a minimum. But right now, you looked fantastic, your beauty was enhanced by colours of your makeup that brought out the parts of you that he adored the most.

On top of that, the dress you wore was sexy and tight, wrapping around your curves and the dips of your body deliciously, your cleavage pushed up so seductively with the bra you chose to wear underneath. You were radiant with happiness and warmth, your shoulders and face relaxed in ways he hadn’t seen in such a long time. Hunting was really wearing you all down, he figured he should consider taking a break, too, with you for a while. Maybe even just one day.

“I missed you too,” he told you gently.

“How much?” You asked with a smirk, pressing your palms against his firm chest and sliding down to the hem of his grey v-neck. He smirked at you, then blushed and chuckled, dipping his chin to avert his gaze.

“Well, I do wanna take all your clothes off now that I’ve admired you in it,” he murmured, looking down at you intently. You grinned up at him, warmth blossoming in your stomach. Your breath clogged your throat when you felt his fingers tangle in the hair at the back of your neck, tugging softly so your head would tilt back. Your flirtatious words died the moment his palm struck your ass, replaced by an aroused yelp.

He leaned down to kiss you once again, with more passion, nipping at your bottom lip until you whined. He palmed your ass teasingly, tugged harder at your hair so your hiss permitted his tongue to slip between your painted lips.

You clung to his hips desperately, your knees growing weak with each swipe of his soft tongue against yours. You pulled away with a gasp unable to breathe as he stole the breath from your lungs, but he didn’t care. He grazed your jaw with his teeth instead, and bit down roughly on your pulse, soft strands of his brown hair tickling your shoulder, making you shiver with desire.

“Please, fuck me, Sam,” you moaned, arching into him as he licked and sucked at the entice spot behind your ear. Your body burned and ached for his touch on your bare skin, your nipples tightened in the lace bra, your pussy clenching and weeping with desire.

He smirked against your skin, “I will, but let me enjoy this first, beautiful.”

You shuddered again at his warm breath tickling your skin, his lips ghosting above your collarbone, traced by his tongue. He pressed soft kisses downward, until he got to your breasts. His grip on your hair didn’t let up and the other hand slid down between your legs from behind, his middle finger teasing your entrance over your soaked panties.

“Oh, fucking fuck,” you whined, squirming in his grasp. He bit and sucked at your cleavage, marking you possessively, and untangled your hair from his hand so he could wrap it around his fist perfectly, tighter.

He pulled away from you completely, all of the sudden, leaving you cold. You forced your eyes open to stare up at him, flushing when his hazel eyes glossed over with carnality. You released his hips to clutch his shirt, readying to remove it from his body.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here,” he told you, his voice dripping with the same lust that washed over his eyes. You moaned before he tugged at your hair again, testing your reaction. You bit your lip and leaned back against the war table, begging with your eyes for him to go through with it.

Sam hummed softly, his fingers grazed your thigh, moved in between to playfully brush your clit over the lace of your underwear. You panted harder and faster with every passing second, his teasing fingers slipped inside your underwear, the elastic waistband stretching around his hand. You parted your legs desperately, your body singing with pleasure as his fingers dipped into your wet cunt, gathering up your juices to play with your pulsing clit.

“You get so wet so fast,” he praised, “it’s so fucking hot.” You moaned his name, felt your orgasm approaching faster than you’d liked, but he rubbed your clit so perfectly, just the way he knew you liked. He tugged at your hair roughly, forcing your eyes open once again when you tensed up the closer you got to finishing. “Come for me, you’re so gorgeous when you come,” he whispered, and you did.

You gasped his name and moaned loudly, quivering as your pussy clenched and unclenched around nothing. It always impressed you that Sam could make you come in less than five minutes. He bit his lip as he watched you, your jaw slack and brows furrowed as you stared back at him. His fingers circled slower, moving at the same pace as the slow of your orgasm.

“I can’t wait to strip you out of this tight little dress.” Sam dipped his fingers down to your entrance, pressed his fingers inside your clenching walls to feel your cum. The slick substance stuck to his fingers and he pulled his fingers out of your underwear and lifted them up to smear your arousal across your painted lips. “I can’t wait to play with your tits,” he murmured, pushing his fingers between your lips.

You stared at him seductively, lost in desire, completely unable to do anything but take what he gave you. You sucked on his fingers, moaned at the taste of yourself, and melted into a puddle of sin when he pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth, mimicking the movement of his cock when he’d fuck your face.

“I can’t wait to bury my cock inside your sweet pussy,” he groaned softly at the sight of you and pulled his fingers away to kiss the taste of you away. He sucked your lips fervently and licked wildly into your mouth, your hands subconsciously moving through his hair to tug almost as hard as he was tugging at yours.

He pulled away and panted aginst your mouth. He let go of your hair and reached beneath your dress to rip your panties off your body. All you could do was gasp. Then he reached up to unzip your dress, letting it fall around your feet. You kicked it away from you, stared at him expectantly and reached for his shirt.

“I need to feel you inside me now, Sam,” you whispered impatiently as you tugged his shirt upwards. He quickly slid it over his head and let it fall to where your dress was, you took the chance to admire his sturdy form. His hard abs became taught with every move and his sleep-pants hung low on his hips, the band of his boxers peeking above them. His hard cock easily tented the flimsy material, it made your mouth watered at the thought of tasting him and your pussy wanted to be stretched and filled. “Take everything off,” you ordered impatiently.

He wasted no time and shoved the garments down his legs without protest while you unclasped your bra expertly with one hand. All your clothes fell into a messy pile on the floor with your dress and ripped panties.

Once you stood naked in front of each other, it became a race of who would make the first move. Sam was faster than you, silencing your protests and subduing you with a hungry kiss. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples, a painful type of pleasure that made you so impossibly horny you nearly considered coming on the spot from the feeling alone, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of his mouth.

Hot and wet, he stepped his mouth down to your chest, licked at your nipple and sucked the sensitive nubs until you were squirming. You indecisively pushed his head into your breasts and tugged it away by his hair so he’d lick you somewhere else.

Sam had already made up his mind about how the night would go and he turned you around so you faced away from him with the table beside you. You had nothing to stare at but the dark library. Your heels gave you some help when he reached for the back of your thigh and slid his hand down to wrap around your knee, lifting it up onto the edge of the table.

“You’re so desperate to be fucked, aren’t you?” He teased, massaging the globes of your ass. You twisted your body slightly, leaning over to press your hands flat on the table, your pussy tingling with anticipation of his next move.

“Please, I need you so bad, Sam,” you replied with a moan. He kept his hand on your hip and squeezed possessively. You felt two of his fingers prodding at your wet hole, slowly he pushed them into you and back out to infuriate you and make you needier. The pads of his long fingers brushed over the spongy spot against your walls repeatedly, and your legs shook on the table. With a curse you whispered Sam’s name again, hoping he’ll end the delightful torture as his fingers prepared you for him.

He pulled his fingers from within your heat, replacing them with his hot cock to slide through your folds from behind you without warning. You whimpered pathetically as the head of his cock teased your clit, your heart fluttered excitedly, and you reached back to curl your fingers around the back of his neck to pull him close.

“You feel so good, Sam,” you uttered breathlessly.

“Are you ready for me, gorgeous?” He asked, moving your hair out of the way to drop kisses along your shoulder. You moaned softly at his words, his smirk evident as he brushed his lips up to your neck.

“Yeah,” you whispered, desperately wanting to be filled, needing to be fucked, by him only.

You felt the prod of his cock at your entrance, teasing your entrance with a few circles before slowly pushing in. Your breath hitched and you ached to get closer, but he held you in place with a firm hand on your hip. You pulled at his hair, silently commanding him to relinquish control to fuck you the way you needed to be, but he continued to slide into you slowly, and back out slightly. It was almost enough to make you cum.

You felt embarrassed by how close you’ve been to your orgasm when Sam had barely done anything but graze your sweet spots. It wasn’t surprising, but it always caught you off guard how easily your body gave into him. Right now, you felt like exploding around his cock, the stretch of him around your walls, it all felt unbearably gratifying.

Once he was completely inside you, he barely gave you time to adjust before he began fucking you in earnest. It was quick and hot, the pump of his cock in and out of you. Loud and wet sounds resounded throughout the Bunker, your wet cunt being filled by his cock. It was pornographic.

His fingers dug roughly into the soft flesh of your hips, red stripes following his nails the harder he fucked you. He held you up with his arm around your waist, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, overwhelming your senses with endless pleasure. You all but moaned out your pleasure like a porn star, unashamed and so, so happy you two were alone.

The sounds just ripped out of you and he rewarded you with harsh bites wherever he could reach. His fingers found your breasts, squeezing and kneading, plucking your nipples and pinching them until you cried out his name begging for him to give you more.

His hot breath left your skin warm and damp, but it felt so good, he’d grunt your name into your neck, against your nape, until you felt tingles running up your spine. Sam was complete sin. His hips smacked loudly and roughly against your ass, too. The pain he made you feel was just a thin strip compared to the pleasure, and it was something he had mastered to drive you insane.

You didn’t need much more to orgasm and he must have known, he knew you so well. He dropped his hand from your breasts and smacked your clit so hard you walls tightened around him in surprise, and you whimpered loudly. A dark chuckle from Sam followed a second slap, but he soothed your swollen clit with messy circles that drove you over the edge to your orgasm unexpectedly.

“That’s right, come for me,” he whispered. His cock throbbed and twitched while you screamed his name. Your walls clamped down around him, and he continued to rub your clit as your arousal dripped down your thighs. “You’re all mine, baby… Fuck, I love you,” he grunted as he came inside you. He pushed himself as deep as he could, and the tip of his cock touched the deepest parts of you when he swivelled his hips with a moan, desperate to claim you. It drove you to your third orgasm, hot spurts of his cum filling you up erotically.

“You’re so sexy,” he praised, removing his fingers from your now sensitive clit. Your lungs burned and you tried hard to recover, but you were a puddle in his arms. All you could do was catch your breath and be astonished by your boyfriend’s ability to make you come with a few strokes inside you, and just with the feeling of his cum warming up your insides.

“Jesus Christ, Sam,” you said hoarsely. He laughed breathlessly, lovingly kissing the bruises and bite marks he left on your neck and back. “That was amazing,” you said with a smile, relaxing into him some more. He pulled off you instead, and you gasped when you felt his cum slide down the inside of your thigh. You clenched your legs to stop anymore from leaving you, and looked up at him.

He was glowing, his cheeks were pink and his lips were swollen and red. Why’d he make sex hair look so hot? His skin glistened with sweat and his muscles flexed with every little move he made. You were sure he could make you come again with just that look in his eyes, teasing and loving, slightly amused, but very arrogant.

It’s like he knew what you were thinking and was thinking it too.

He leaned down to kiss you, softly sucking on your bottom lip. You instantly reached up to thread your fingers through his hair, kissing him with as much passion as he poured into you. His fingers trailed up the inside of your thighs and he groaned softly, prying your legs open to shove his cum inside you.

He pulled away from your lips and got down onto his knees to kiss your pelvis, then your thighs, and you opened your legs to give him room. He fingered you slowly and you clung to his hair and onto the table to remain steady, whimpering when he sucked your sensitive clit into his mouth.

“Fuck, Sam,” you whispered, letting him angle your hips to shove his tongue into your pussy. He licked the mixture of your cum with a moan of satisfaction while his nose teased your clit. You could feel the slow and painful build of another orgasm as your pussy stretched around his tongue.

Unfortunately, he stood up and took your face in his hands to kiss you. You moaned in surprise, submissively allowing him to push his tongue into you. You tasted your release and his as soon as he did and your mouth watered. He tilted your head back, his tongue invading and exploring your warm mouth until the taste of the two of you had diminished.

He pulled away with a heavy breath and smiled down at you, watching your eyes flutter open. “Let’s get ready for bed,” he suggested, pushing strands of your hair away from your face. You licked your lips, same as him, and nodded, but first wrapped your arms around his waist.

“I’m gonna shower…” You murmured, pulling away from the embrace. He nodded and chewed on his lip. “Meet you in my room?” You beamed up at him and slowly pulled away, walking in the direction of the restroom.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll wait for you,” he smiled, reaching out for your arm to tug you back into him and leaning down to peck your lips. You laughed into the kiss and he finally let you go.

He picked up your clothes from the floor and started making his way to your room, putting on his clothes and putting yours in the hamper. He cleaned himself up before starting to prepare your stuff. Then, he waited for you in your bedroom with the lights on, preparing your bed, some clean clothes for you to sleep in, and even brought you a water bottle in case you needed it.

You returned quietly, flushed from the heat of your shower, wrapped only in a towel. He smiled at you when you called his name softly and got up from the bed to kiss you again. He admired you with a soft expression on his face when he pulled away. Without makeup, you still looked beautiful.

“I got everything ready for you, then we can do whatever you want,” he told you, tugging the towel out of its place. You laughed softly, letting him steal it from you so you could get changed.

“Thanks, Sam, I really appreciate it.” You got changed and looked around your room out of habit, boredly taking in your space to make sure you could actually relax. But you noticed that your books were slanted and fallen over to the side, one of your books was missing.

You stared at it thoughtfully, pulling your top over your head, trying to retrace your steps of the day for when you had misplaced it. When nothing came to mind, you asked, “did I put my book somewhere else?”

Sam’s jaw clenched and he froze, looking past you and at the shelf. He internally facepalmed and then shrugged, his heart racing nervously. “Um…” he started, then shifted, moving his hair out of his face. “Yeah, I don’t know, maybe,” he mumbled, averting his gaze and rubbing the back of his neck.

Your brow rose at his suddenly strange behaviour, but you thought nothing of it at first. You hummed thoughtfully and made your way back to Sam, who was still acting shifty, even as he handed you a water bottle. You took it silently and narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. He didn’t look at you at first, not when you opened the bottle slowly, or when you took a few gulps of it.

He pretended to busy himself with the sheets, lifting them up for you to sleep, but you knew now. He had something to do with it. So you grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you, and said, “Sam, I know you know.”

He broke easily, with a shy laugh. Instead of continuing to deny it, he looked down at his hands and nodded, “fine. Okay? I was curious about why you like them so much and I wanted to know what about them kept you excited… so I read a few chapters, and I wanted to try some stuff out… which you ended up liking,” he said the last part flirtatiously and your mouth dropped open in surprise.

You closed it and laughed, then pulled his face in for a kiss. He quickly dominated you, sucking on your tongue, making your breath hitch. You tugged at his hair and slid into his lap when he grabbed your hips and tugged you forward.

You pulled away from Sam’s sinful mouth, curiously and breathlessly asking, “you only read a few chapters?” He dove back in for a kiss and bit your lip sensually. He hummed a yes and then released your lip from between his teeth.

“Why?” He asked, a smug smirk on his face.

“You know why, there’s a lot more I thought was hot while imagining you doing it to me,” you replied shamelessly. He snorted and looked up thoughtfully, his thumbs sliding over the waistband of your underwear at the same time.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up slightly to make you fall onto the bed so you were laying on your back beneath his firm body. You puffed out a breath of surprise and smiled at him brightly.

“I should go get the book then.” He kissed your flushed cheek, then added, “I should consider reading all your favourite books. Don’t you agree?”

dean winchester version —> livin in you

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[thebearer]

omg the angst of fighting with carm but he’s too loud and scares baby teddy

"Lower your voice." You sneer, glaring at Carmen from the doorway.

Carmen throws his hands out, furiously, blue eyes bulging at you. "Can you fucking talk to me? And not worry about the baby-"

"-The baby just went to sleep." You snap. "And you didn't have to stay with Teddy all day. You got to go out-"

"Oh my God- To work!" Carmen roars, hand slapping on the mattress. "I went to fuckin' work to pay for everything! All this shit-"

"-Oh, right, because you're the only one with a job, right? You're the only one that does anything, is that right? I am just a lazy sack of shit that sits around all day and spends your money." You roll your eyes, venomous tone dripping over your words.

"I have to go to work, ok? I have to go!" Carmen's hands are in front of him, exaggeratedly bouncing for emphasis. "I would love to stay here all fuckin' day and do-"

"-Carmen." You snap, your voice dropping. "I swear to fuckin' God, you lower your voice. Ok? You're gonna wake Teddy up."

"I don't care!" Carmen roared, hand slamming on the wall, booming through the house. "I am trying to talk to you, my wife! My wife! Can you just have a conversation with me and not worry about the baby for once?"

There's a silence, your breath hitching before you hear it. The gurgle of a whimper that turns into a cry, a breathy wail seeping through the baby monitor. You're so frustrated you could sob, tried and hurt. You look at Carmen, gripping the baby monitor before ripping open the door.

"Where are you goin'? Hey, come back, we're not done-"

"-Oh, I am done." You snap. The finality in your voice makes Carmen's heart stop, dropping with fear. "I'm going to go take care of my baby. Because when my baby needs me, I go. And I'm sorry I don't get to go to work all day and pretend to not have a baby for twelve hours, but someone has to take care of Teddy. And it's obviously not going to be you, Carmen."

Carmen feels sick, flinching at your tone, at the heavy footsteps followed by the door shutting to Teddy's nursery. His stomach is in knots, angry, frustrated tears streaming down his face, clutching the baby monitor pretending not to hear the sniffles and wobble in your voice- pretending not to know that he's the reason you're crying.

You make up under the sheets, soft whispers and teary promises under the cool linen, clinging to each other. Promises to be better in the morning. He'd gotten better at that. You both had. Not going to bed angry. When Teddy came along only a few short weeks ago, you swore you'd do better about that, and you were. You knew it was the exhaustion, the change that came with parenthood. Carmen never did well with change, but it was getting better. You were getting better, and you'd both be better in the morning.