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forwards-beckon-rebound · 1 month ago

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batfam as fanfic tropes pt 2

ft bruce, dick, and jason warnings: i continue to give jason all of the angsty stuff but i promise i do it out of love, some suggestive jokes lol pt 1

bruce

not to keep pushing my superbat agenda but that may or may not be what i'm doing

only one bed trope let's go

likeeee yknow imagine they're on an undercover mission with the league or whatever but then they end up stuck in rockville, known for their slightly weird rock

and there's a single motel that only has one room left and of course there's only one bed

to add insult to injury, it's a queen bed and they're both like 6'+ guys so there's absolutely no way they're not gonna at least accidentally make physical contact (it's not gonna be accidental by the end of the night)

something about clark seeing bruce in pj's just seems so funny to me, i don't even have anything else to add

imagine they didn't bring pj's bc they didn't think the mission was going to take that long so they go to the motel's gift shop and they're forced to get cringey tourist shirts

"Rockville may not have much, but we sure rock!"

"Rock on over to Rockville"

we all know bruce technically doesn't haveeeee to sleep for 8 hours straight (and ig clark doesn't have to either? but i haven't read enough superman stuff to know how true that is) but i like the idea of him just sleeping anyways

and clark doesn't know any better so he's like yeah ok makes sense that he would need to sleep, he is human after all

bruce may act like he's bothered by this but like he's fooling nobody

i think it would be so funny if clark actually does manage to fall asleep but because bruce almost never sleeps for this long unless he's critically injured, he's just like lying there in the dark freaking out over being in the same bed as clark

bruce discovers fanfic of himself but it's not even in our universe, it's just gothamites writing fanfics about him

there's bruce wayne x reader, bruce wayne x oliver queen, bruce wayne x lois lane (clark is not happy about this), bruce wayne x nightwing??????, batman x every member of the justice league, and of course bruce wayne x batman

babs probably knew all along but she decides to wait until she finds something particularly scandalous before showing it to bruce

and let's just say some writers sure have creative imaginations when it comes to uh what bruce and batman would be doing behind closed doors

i'm just imagining one day he's on patrol and saves some random person from getting mugged and then they're suddenly like, "wow i never thought i'd actually get to meet you. i'm a big fan. can i ask you some questions?"

and yknow, this happens sometimes. sure he'll entertain the questions, but he probably won't answer

"i actually write fanfic but i was having some trouble with your characterization. do you think you're more of a top or bottom?"

bruce.exe has stopped working

wait until he finds the fan art

dick

your siblings are best friends

hear me out, you have a younger sister who happens to be in the same after school art club as damian

and of course, being the good older sibling you are, you come to pick her up

but it certainly doesn't hurt to see dick grayson every week, waiting for his younger brother

at first he's just some handsome stranger who happens to be around the same age as you

and you're trying to figure out if he's here for his sibling or if he's just a very very young parent

thankfully, your sister introduces you to damian and by proxy you properly meet dick so you know he's not taken

and it's hard not to fall for him because he's just so funny and charming

and he's good with kids, as evident by how he handles damian but also one day when your sister comes out of art club sobbing because some kid messed with her artwork and he's able to calm her down in record time

he offers to get her ice cream as consolation but he's weirdly making eye contact with you as he says that and maybe you're just delusional but between this and the flirting you can't be blamed for feeling a certain way about the whole thing

but things frustratingly don't progress any further (mostly because dick thinks he's been pretty clear with the flirting and decides to back down because you don't seem to be reciprocating, whereas you're completely oblivious to the whole thing) so it's up to damian and your sister to take things into their own hands

cue the random playdates where they insist that you and dick both come for supervision or something while they draw and banish you and dick to another room because they need "pure artistic energy" in the room or whatever

and funnily enough the other room just so happens to have a candlelit dinner for two set up! wow, what a coincidence!

you guys have a very well cooked steak and talk things over (read: your siblings both yell at you from the other room to just confess already)

honestly, they're both pretty done with your antics but at least you're together now!

if you don't mention both of them in your wedding speeches there will be consequences

jason

who else would get hanahaki disease if not jason todd

for those who were not in the trenches of 2010’s anime fanfics, hanahaki disease is a fictional disease where you cough up flowers if your love is unrequited or like you think your love is unrequited

i just know this loser wouldn’t even realize he likes you until he starts coughing up random flowers and he’s like wtf????

it does not take a tim drake to figure out who he likes so ofc the last people to notice are him and you

also you just know he’s the type to suffer in silence instead of confess bc he thinks he’s burdening you with his feelings or like he doesn’t lead the type of life that can allow him to have a relationship or whatever emo edge lord stuff he does

also i think he is incapable of flirting LMAO

honestly, even if you confessed i can see him being like "how can you possibly love me, you must be confused"

normally the confession scene is where the sick person gets cured and like they get together

but nope! jason just straight up refuses bc ofc he does

good luck trying to convince him that you do like him, flaws and all

GET THIS DUDE HIS COLLEGE!AU

not to be dramatic but i desperately want him to have a happy and normal life so this one might be a bit of wish fulfilment on my behalf but like

once again i feel like he would actually want to go to college/uni

like will he complain about his assignments and exams? yes but don't we all?

i feel like he would just take courses he would like, so probably a lot of literature stuff

i think it would be very funny if he took one of those psychology courses, think like PSYCH 21XX: The Maladaptive Mind or smth and he's like "wow these trauma responses sound awfully familiar. wonder where i've heard about this before"

anyways i'm thinking about him being a humanities guy and then he meets you, a stem student who has to take this one english class to graduate

and he's also in a similar boat and is in your biology class for the science credit

so you guys decide to just study together and help each other out

and he may or may not catch feelings but it's hard not to when you have similar taste in books and can talk about a random poem you read in class for an hour

jason todd who gets rizzed up by your annotations

but then like halfway through second semester he realizes that you've hung out just for fun more often than you've actually hung out to study

and ofc there's a dramatic confession scene at graduation and he's stumbling over his words and god he might end it all because his family is there and freaking dick grayson is watching him confess to his crush

but like it's hard not to figure it out when he basically acts like your boyfriend on your "study dates" and honestly you already kinda figured you at least had something sort of going on and this confession is not shocking in the slightest

so that was super embarrassing for him but at least he's got a date next week?

hear me out...if you got into an accident and then developed retrograde amnesia

he's already stressed enough about the fact that you got injured in the first place

like what is the point of all of his training and patrolling to keep gotham safe if he can't even keep the person who's the most important to him safe?

then you wake up and he's so relieved he could cry

he thinks you're just a bit disoriented as he pulls you into his arms, promising he's never going to put you in a situation like that ever again

only for you to stare blankly at him

"i'm sorry, who are you?"

he thinks he would rather die and reincarnate again than live with the way you're looking at him

you're not even mad at getting hurt. you don't even remember that. you're just...looking at him like he's nothing more than a stranger because right now, that's what he is

i think his insecurities would be amped up to 100x after this, even if you did agree to come home with him and try to regain your memories

he's constantly praying that this is some messed up nightmare because he doesn't even know why you agreed to date him the first time around

so how is he supposed to make you fall for him again?

it's even worse because you are trying and you feel bad about it, but anytime he gets too close, he can see the way you flinch slightly

honestly he's going to start spiraling, like questioning whether he even deserves you or what he's doing wrong

is it because you don't know him? is he scaring you in some way? he would never hurt you, but that's all he's ever known. it was nice to live in this fantasy, but maybe all he was doing was delaying the inevitable

he starts to wonder if maybe he should just let you go now, while you don't remember anything. just thinking about it makes him want to claw his heart out but if it would keep you safe, he'd be willing to give you anything

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helslastangel · 3 months ago

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Moon Conjunct Venus + Moon Trine Ascendant Synastry

Based on My Personal Experiences 🔞

This may not resonate for everyone, so if it doesn't hit, please let it miss. There are 18+ topics included this so minors, do not interact. 🔞

Their Moon conjunct your Venus

This aspect is wonderful if you're both feeling each other. They can and will read you like a book without even needing to turn the first page. If you've ever seen or been in one of those couples where the one person knew exactly what the other one wanted or needed, without ever discussing it, even once?

Yeah, those are the vibes here.

You will be loved exactly the way you want to be loved and if things don't work out, there is a good chance the breakup could leave you feeling destroyed for quite some time, even if you were never in a relationship.

This aspect can make it very difficult to be "just friends" if either person wants more from the connection.

But even platonic friends with this synastry aspect can be amazing. These are the kinds of friend that you give the spare keys to, can call at 4 in the morning whether for an emergency or just to sob about something stupid.

They are the ones you who can come over without calling first. In fact, you welcome it and aren't surprised to come home and find them asleep on your couch. Like this is the friend that you're more like family with if you're not in a romantic connection.

If you ever get in a mood and start talking about "everyone this" and "people always/never that," they aren't offended because it doesn't even cross their mind to think they're included in that pile.

There is no guarantee that things will always be perfect or work out with this placement, obviously it depends on factors in the whole chart and other things like time, place, circumstance, and so on.

Of course, anyone who can read you accurately has the ability to use that to manipulate and harm rather than help and support you, but that's a risk of life in general. All I'm saying is: with this aspect, when it's good, it's DAMN GOOD.

To give you an example, I had this synastry with a Scorpio moon several years ago (I'm a Scorpio Venus). We met at an event and hit it off so well that we were talking outside the venue for nearly 4 hours, annoying his friends and mine. Ended up bringing him home with me and I fully expected him to disappear into a cloud of dust the next day, but he didn't.

We didn't end up working out beyond friends with benefits, but he's NEVER been rude or unkind to me once. Extremely patient, always calm no matter what and very sweet to me whenever we run into each other somewhere in the city every couple of years.

The way he handled me emotionally was just beautiful, I can't think of another way to put it. Most of my friends at the time would ignore anything I did creatively - not him, he found one of my books and posted it on his story with a cute caption saying how much he loved intelligence and that he was proud of me. The type to show up in the rain and keep me company when I was sick (back when I lived alone), even though he had class, work and practice all that day. The first time we hooked up, I was getting my laundry together and wondering why he hadn't left yet. He picked up the bags talking about, "Nah I got 'em, lead the way to the laundromat, why would I leave you to do this by yourself."

TMI / TW (mentions of sexual activities, body fluids, menstruation/periods) so again, minors, get out of here and the rest of you proceed with caution or skip to the next paragraph.

He was very much empathetic and also body positive-absolutely nothing seemed to gross him out. I have so many examples, but let's go with something both extreme and spicy. I was bundled up, laying on his shoulder and trying to deal with menstrual cramps while we were watching a show and him going, "Oh you know I read somewhere that orgasms can ease those, may I?" I'm there like, may you what? sure?? I'm curious?? Next thing I know, he's got a towel down, yeets the tampon and dives in head first talking about "a period ain't stop nothing but a sentence." And, well? All I'll say is.. at least ONE man knows where the clit is! ibuprofen, who? where? 😂😈

Obviously that's a bit much if you're a vanilla type (but a Scorpio moon + Scorpio venus? baby we was freaks, what can I say? lmfao) but this is just an example I mention because the important part is not once did he bring up getting off himself. No hinting for a quickie or a BJ like you might expect. I even offered because I was used to guys doing seemingly selfless gestures only to be guilt-tripped shortly after, and he was just like, "Sorry, what? No, you're not feeling well, I wanted you to feel better, plus I don't need to get off all the time, I read it's healthy to ignore the urges sometimes." (Idk if you could tell, but he REALLY likes to read, loll).

That's what I'm talking about with the Moon-Venus conjunction. This kind of synastry will vary in the specific ways it's expressed of course, but all other things being equal, someone with their moon conjunct your venus will intuitively know what you want and need to feel loved, and it works because it blends very well with their own emotional needs. If the moon person tells you they enjoy doing something for you or with you without expecting anything in return, believe it. It sounds like a lie because of the types of people who would lie about that, but with this aspect, chances are they meant that shit.

Not only that, but you'll feel like you've known them for a long time. That's because you'll also understand their emotional expression on an intuitive level. This isn't as one-way as it could sound. Oh, no, not at all. You will feel like you've met before and find yourself making time and space, and finding energy for them even out of thin air. You could live in a tiny studio that you'd never share with anyone and then find yourself cleaning out your closet on a Sunday afternoon to "make a little space" for their extra work uniform or even as tiny as keeping an extra toothbrush, clearing a hook in the bathroom, keeping their favorite snacks in the fridge, stuff like that. You'll generally feel at home with each other and trust can build VERY quickly. Others could even wonder if you're okay, especially if you're normally a paranoid person.

With Scorpio moon guy, he accidentally left his wallet the first time he left my place and I called him when I found it. His response was "Oh I left it at yours? Oh good, that's okay then, I'll come get it at some point this week, let me know what days you'll be home". He knew me for less than 24 hours at the time, lol. 3 months later he had the door code to my place and there were two toothbrushes and two towels instead of one LOL, trust was never an issue and it certainly wasn't the reason we didn't work out either! We basically just couldn't really keep pace with each other because... we had a 6 year age gap. Completely different life stages. I have a feeling if we both were a lot older, it would have worked out. Literally nothing else was wrong with us.

Now, that was with me being the Venus (and Ascendant-see below) person. I'll be honest, as a Capricorn moon, I'm curious about how it would be if I meet a Capricorn venus romantically. I wonder how that would play out all the time, and I think I'll let that remain a mystery until it happens, then I'll hopefully still be blogging then and come back and tell yall about that too. THAT BEING SAID... I do have this aspect (as the moon person this time) with a platonic Capricorn venus friend I had for nearly 13 years. We would literally be in each other's houses (and hair and business lol) all the time. We had yearly festivals we always went to together, talked almost everyday, knew how each other was feeling before the other one would even say anything. Mopped each other up off the floor when going through shit. She punched a guy I was dating who cheated on me, and I introduced her to a mutual friend who I thought she might like to date, and then cussed the hell out of him when he didn't pull his weight like I thought he would. Things like that.

The friendship ended nearly 7 years ago but I miss her every day. I remember what happened, but in hindsight, it seems so foolish now and I miss her every single day. We would have been friends for 20 years by now and I don't have a lot of regrets in life, but that is one of them. She hurt me but I handled it so poorly both before and after she reached out to talk that it just destroyed the entire foundation of our friendship. I haven't even tried to get over it because I don't want to. To me, that would be just disrespectful, I feel like it's something I need to carry with me as a reminder to do better next time. I'm sure you see by now that this is a quite an intense and dynamic placement!

Bonus Observation:

Moon Trine Ascendant Synastry

If someone with their moon conjunct your venus ALSO has their moon trine your ascendant, WHEW that is hot. Not only will the emotional connection be strong, but they will find everything about you on the outside just as enticing as the inside.

They genuinely enjoy the way you express yourself and can have a lot of patience for any shenanigans you might get up to. These people will watch you from across a crowded room all evening and suddenly appear by your side just before you leave to tell you they think you're attractive and want to get to know the rest of you beneath the surface. And it's rarely ever creepy. They'll know just how to approach you. I've had this synastry aspect a few times and it's always been like that. Genuinely charming. Perfect rizz.

This kind of synastry, as I said earlier, will leave you in absolute shambles if things don't work out, especially if you don't encounter this synastry often in your connections. Personally, I'd consider this one of those aspects where one or both of you can feel like the other was a soulmate, or "the one that got away," and end up being celibate or single (if romantic), or becoming asocial (if platonic) for a long time after splitting up. That or cycling through a series of awful relationship and friendship rebounds in an attempt to find them in another person.

Not too much on me for this, but there's a country song by Colt Fold that I'd loved for half a decade now called 4 Lane Gone. I'm sure there are other songs out there that would capture this better, but this is the one that stuck with me.

Something about the way this artist captures the feeling. Wistful, you can tell dude is acting strong, but knows damn well a good thing just got royally fucked up. Maybe I'm just melodramatic (I'm water dominant after all), but have a listen and see if you get what I'm talking about.

Idk. From my experiences with these aspects (been lucky enough to experience it with more than one person), I'd say it gives a pretty good idea of how either side could feel when it ends. Probably more so the Moon person, though, as they're likely to react like this to either a) being the one to end the relationship prematurely and regret it, or b) being blindsided by the Venus/Ascendant person up and leaving, and taking so long to process and recover from the shock, that by the time they chase after them...they're...well...four lanes gone. Lol.

youtube

Lyrics

[Verse 1]

Been raining for three days

On the fast track to the highway

Trying to save a little time

Lord I never should have tried

Taking this back road shortcut

Now I’m way stuck, so sunk

I’ll never catch her now

So I just put the tailgate down

She’s probably somewhere doing 95

I got nothing but this cooler and time

[Chorus]

I cracked one waiting on a ride

Two or three just to pass the time

While she’s headed to a new town

And I’m too lost to be found

She probably thinks that I don’t care

Stuck in the rut in the middle of nowhere

And just my luck I’ll be here all night long

Man, I’m bummed out back road buzzed

And she’s four lane gone

Yeah she’s four lane gone

[Verse 2]

Every empty beer can makes me

Miss her like hell, man I can kick myself

For the place and the shape I’m in holding me back

Yeah my wheels keep on spinning

And she’s ticked off blacktop fast

[Chorus] x 1

[Bridge]

While I’m stuck here all alone

With a midnight natty light

One more chance I’ve blown

[Chorus] x 1

[Outro]

I’m out here all alone

Yeah she’s four lane gone

She’s four lane, four lane gone

Yeah she’s four lane gone

She’s four lane gone

#synastry observations #astrology observations #astro notes #astrology #astrology signs #astrology tumblr #moon conjunct venus #moon trine ascendant #synastry #relationship astrology #friendship #friendship astrology #relationship

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blingblong55 · 2 years ago

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The Mess we made - Colonel König nsfw

This is based on a request:

May I humbly request your writing talent and creativity of a dirty, nasty, hardcore smut you can come up with based on colonel König x reader, please? His back scratched, reader’s in deep with pleasure

F!Reader, smut, 18+, MDNI ಠ_ಠ, p-in-v, solidier!Reader, sexual! relationship, unprotected sex

There was something about the way that you looked in your uniform that had your CO touching himself at night. The way that your shirt would get tighter around your chest area, how your curves looked like when you sparred with a few of your teammates and how you looked like, at least in his imagination, on top of him.

Lately, you have been giving your attention to some new recruit, he was actually quite kind and funny. König didn't like how you looked beside that man. So, the only way he could ensure others would know you were busy, with him, was by making you train for hours on end. At times, he'd wake you up earlier, knocking on your door and using his best drill sgt. voice.

Today one of the other COs ordered you to train with the recruit, said he was lacking in hand to hand combat, and since everyone on base knew König was enhancing your skills lately, they figured you'd be best option.

You and the newbie were in the sparring room, both exhausted but laughing. "I swear you'll leave me aching for days, dude." a small chuckle escaping him. "Yeah, sorry, didn't mean to throw ya into the mat like that."

Once you both finished that small break, you continued to spar, teaching him new moves and giving a few examples along the way. His hand on your waist as he was now learning a new move to bring someone down, your eyes locking as you spoke. "Once your hands find the enemies side, you'll have to-"

"Hands off her!" König spoke as he approached you both, "Sergeant, in my office, now." you and the newbie both pulled from the other, you with a confused look just obey his order. König stayed behind, giving the newbie a newer move. Definitely not using this as the perfect excuse to let his anger out of the poor man.

You sat on one of the chairs in his office, toying with the hem of your shirt. You hear some whistling, König, based on the rhythm. He walked in, closing the door behind him, he stood by the window, looking out, "That man doesn't know how to fight, much."

"That's why I was teaching him, sir." You try to at least, in some way, defend the poor newbie. Anytime he wanted to have you, he would, but that was usually in the comfort of either of your rooms. Hence to why you were calling him 'sir'. "I never told you to teach him," he turns to you, closing the blinds, "Why don't you ever listen to me, schatz?" he asked you, he sat on the chair next to yours, towering over you. His voice more softer now, unlike back in the mats, low and gentler with how he delivered his words.

"What do you mean, sir?"

He has never spoke to you, not in this tone. "Why can't I never have you, for myself?" a hand on touching your chin, him and you making eye contact, "Uhm, sir-" you weren't sure why he was doing this, especially here. When you two established this 'relationship', you two agreed to only have the other do what they'd please behind closed quarters.

"Don't talk, little one, just listen."

You nod, not knowing what else to do. Part of you was into this, the other part of you was scared. There were times when he would do something that would have you weak at the knees. How his arms in that muscle shirt would be flexed after lifting some ammo boxes, or when he would workout, how he would lift so effortlessly.

"That's my girl, always obeying me," a hand snaked to the back of your neck, the other still on your chin, "Now, you follow as I say, ja?"

You nod, willing to do whatever he says at this point. "Good, start to take that ugly jacket off," he stands back up, finally going to sit on his chair. You removed the army jacket, staring at him, not knowing what to do next. "Hm, seems to me you must remove the rest, can't have you like this." he leaned back in his chair, smirking under that mask. "But sir-"

He shook his head, "tsk tsk, I don't want excuses, take it off." As he watched you hesitate, he went up to you, hand on your shoulder, "You want to make me happy, don't you?" You nod, his hand at the button of your trousers, slowly, he unbuttoned them, he then removed your belt. His hand digging into your trousers, the other hand on your thigh, "Hm, seems to me I need to see you, all of you, so stand up for me," he grabbed your wrist, pulling you up and making you stand up, "now take it off and don't test my patience." he commanded.

You soon stripped from your close, he couldn't take this view, especially not when he knew that stupid newbie had his hands on what König calls his. "Bend over my desk, c'mon, do it." now he was definitely desperate to have a taste of you. You bend over, his hand rubs your bare ass, the other hand snakes to the front of your panties. Warm hand toying with your wet slick.

"So needy, hm" the other hand still rubbing your ass. Lips on your neck, licking, biting and sucking the soft skin. "König not here, please." you begged, because what if someone walked in or what if someone heard your moans.

"Thats the fun part, schatz" he whispers against your ear, nibbling at it. He wanted it to be final, for everyone to hear you call out of his name. Hear the pathetic cries you let out as he made you his. Hips thrusting in you, for everyone to hear but not see. Not yet at least.

He lowered you panties to your ankles, spit on his mouth and rubbed his fingers against the entrance of your aching entrance. "Hm," he looked at the old hickeys he had left on your back just days ago, "seems you're due for more." He lowered his trousers, played with himself as he watched how you would desperately look back. Eyes looking from the door to him. Drove him crazy knowing you two could get caught, but that was the fun of it, wanted to experience it so others would know about you and him.

Your body did him wonders, made him play with himself when you weren't around and at meetings when you would sit across from him, looking up at the board with those sweet innocent eyes of you. The same look he wanted to corrupt, make it change just for him. He didn't, like how you were so innocent, how you knew so little but did so much.

He parted your legs and without any foreplay or warning, he slid his now aching self in you. He knew his size was big, that you could only take so much. But today he wasn't playing nice, not when his favourite toy let another man touch her. Although the touches the newbie and you had were innocent, he didn't like them one bit. Now, here you were, taking him all of him.

You were so small compared to him so taking him like this was hard, yet it felt so...right and good. He started to thrust in slow, opening you for him. Hands on your hips, you still bent on the desk, your hands gripping the edges of his desk. Small moans could be heard coming from you as you tried to not make much noise.

"Louder, I want them to hear you." He definitely wanted to make a show out of you, humiliate you as he took you, knowing the other hungry men would be outside his door, listening as you took every part of him. He forced your mouth open, hand on your mouth as the other still guided your hips.

Your ass becoming red as his thrusts go harder and faster. He fucked the anger and frustration on you. Degraded every second he spends in you. "Such a fuckin' slut for me," another few slaps on your now raw ass, "what a slut you are, taking me like this. I bet you like it." He dragged another moan from you, this time louder, just like he wanted it to be. His accent coming off more stronger by each thrust. Once he knew you'd be willing to keep moaning loud for him, his hand slides to your wet cunt. His thick fingers start to toy with you, "I bet you like being treated like a whore." You couldn't respond, your brain in mush as waves of pleasure started to create through your body.

He slammed his hips on your ass, his cock deep in you, he leaned in, biting your back and shoulder. His moans and yours echoing around the room. He knew he was close and he didn't mind if you were or not. Today, his needs were above your own.

He pulled out, pre-cum dripping from you and him. He sits on his desk chair, removing his shirt, knowing this view would be your only reward. A finger motioning for you to sit on him, he wanted to see those tits of yours bounce as he came in you. You, like his toy obeyed. He lets you guide his throbbing cock inside, once your hands met it, you slide it in. Causing more moans to leave your sweet lips. More for the men outside of the door to hear.

You start to ride him, his lips meet your hardened nipples. He bites and licks them. Your moans of pleasure and pain, causing him to feel himself get closer. Your hands on his back, gently holding yourself as you ride him. "König, t-this is....too much" you could feel yourself get more and more sensitive.

But since today, he wanted to please himself and not you, he didn't care. Instead, his hands on your hips, making you go faster, he slapped your ass every now and then. Causing more moans and cries to come out. Your nails digging deeper into his bare back. You started to leave red marks across it. This only fed his needs more. "Look at you," he said as he pulled back, eyes staring into your, mascara running down as it mixed with your sweat, "takin' me so good." The praises finally began.

He knew he was getting closer, so he thrusted faster in you. Your inner thighs would for sure be sore by tomorrow. He leans in, lips on your shoulder as he slowly licked it. Hands still on your hips, at times they be on your ass, spreading your ass so he could feel himself finally fit inside your tight cunt.

Thrusts becoming more sloppy, pre-cum on your and his thighs. He bites into your shoulder, moaning and whimpering can be heard. Your nails leaving more red trails across his back.

His hips bucking as he started to cum inside of you. Filling your walls with his white seed. "Oh schatz, the things you do to me." he let out a small moan. He cups your face, your brows furrowed, tears running down as he wipes them away. "Look at you, such a mess," his voice now more soft, letting his cum drip from in you to your thighs, "you know I don't allow you to look like such mess." He kisses your forehead, he leans and grabs a napkin from his desk, he gently wipes your now dry mascara tears from you. "You did well, liebling." he kissed your cheek and then leaves continuous kisses on your lips.

He moves the hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear. He hugs you, his head on your now bare breasts. "Such a good girl." he whispers, a hand on your back as the other holds your ass, rubbing it slowly, as if he was now caring for it, unlike a few minutes ago.

------------------

A/N: I hope this was smutty enough. If it wasn't not to worry, I have like 6 other smut requests to write.

1K notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 2 years ago

Note

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience.

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream.

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel.

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside.

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement.

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either.

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day.

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price.

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear.

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks."

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke.

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes.

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things.

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to.

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you."

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not.

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed.

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young.

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant.

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick.

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car.

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh.

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for.

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old."

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had.

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan.

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his.

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away.

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in.

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good…

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point.

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest.

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects.

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…"

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple.

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want…

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying.

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already.

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…"

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull.

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth.

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago.

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway."

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed.

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap.

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too.

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?"

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say.

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes.

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart.

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?"

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco.

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not...

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong.

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in.

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream.

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?"

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise.

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel…

And Alaska.

#john price x you #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain price x you #price x reader #captain price smut #captain price x reader #john price smut #john price #mw2 smut #captain john price #john price fanfic #cod fanfic

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consumedbyfeels · 7 months ago

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To those people saying Tevan can't be endgame because Buck needs to explore his sexuality. He's done enough exploring, he has sampled the buffet and gone for seconds and mixed flavors and even sampled in places you have no business sampling and with things from janitor's closet. Now he want to settle down at a nice restaurant with one meal for the rest of his life that no else samples.

He wants commitment he wants someone to love. And maybe he didn't sample all sides of the table but he can still explore what he might like with the one meal just switch out salad for fries every once in a while or trying adding pear even if it seems strange. You can get creative and explore with one person. It's probably even better with feelings and trust and love. And it's a safe space. So yeah he may not be at the buffet table anymore but he can still explore. And besides he hasn't been at the buffet table in a long while. he has been searching for that one meal since Abby that's what all these years he was doing with Ali, Taylor, and Natalia he wants to settle down.

You don't tell Straight people they have to explore their options. You don't tell people who come out in high school to explore their options. So why is this different?

Edit: I wanted to clarify cuz I think there might have been a little confusion. I'm not saying Tevan will be endgame its too early in the relationship to know what will become of them (yes I love Tevan and would love for them to end the series together but mostly I just want both Buck and Tommy to be happy) The thing this post was ment to address is the fact that a certain subset of the fandom (not naming names but we all know the ones) have been trying to perpetuate the bi people are all ho's stereotype, some even going as far as to want Buck to cheat on Tommy (leading into another horrible stereotype about bi people being cheaters) just because they don't like a ship. They would all be fine with Buck marrying the first man he dated if it was we all know who but since it isn't it's a problem. Assuming Buck and Tommy aren't endgame (again too early to say one way or another) but assuming they aren't Buck doesn't have to sleep around after they break up he can date seriously like he was doing before, now just with this new part of himself on the surface. He could go on dates with men and women. I stand by my point earlier regardless of who it is or what gender they are Buck wants commitment. Who knows maybe when the show is all said and done he marries a woman but that doesn't negate his sexuality or make this point in his life any less valid. We should just be happy that he is happy and living his best most authentic life. That boy deserves a break. Please be kind to each other and be careful what harmful stereotypes and rhetoric you perpetuate intentionally or otherwise. its harmful. Even if you are doing so with fictional characters and not real people. It still causes harm in the real world.

#911 abc #consumedbyfeelsposts #bucktommy #tommy kinard #911 buck #buck x tommy #evan buck buckley #kinkley #tevan

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alltheboysandgirlsiloved · 7 months ago

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one thing I haven't touched upon yet is how well the showrunners handled the time jump between Camp Cretaceous and Chaos Theory and more specifically - how well they handled maturing the campers.

At least to me the transition is nearly smoothless. Like, a couple of years have passed for those kids and those included years when people tend to change a lot - from children they grow into young adults. And the show did a fantastic job of shaping their adult forms in terms of personality. Because all of them have the core traits that we associated them with in Camp Cretaceous but at the same time they are more mature and carry their experiences on their back - both the experiences that we know of and those that could potentially fill up the time jump space if you know what I mean.

I look at Kenji for example and I still see remains of the boy that he was - a little bit arrogant (it still shows! he is very proud just of different things!), someone who doesn't shy away from an argument; but at the same time I see a man who has spent hours teaching kids and adults how to rock-climb - he can be patient too; I see someone who had to re-evaluate a lot in his life, and I can see that it wasn't easy, that it took a toll on him.

Or for example Sammy! Someone who loves her friends and family dearly still, a girl who was willing to fight for those she loved. But at the same time I see a young woman who knows that sometimes a compromise is the best option (like that situation with her neighbor). I see someone who still learns when her love and affection need to take a backseat for others to develop. I see someone who knows that sometimes being apart, even if it hurts, may be a good thing. I see someone forgiving but persistent.

Ben too... A boy who went through severe trauma that made his personality do flip and then, once time passed, he started rebuilding what was left of his old core. Anxious he is, a little boy still, but also a fighter - because he had to be one. At the same time, I see a young man who is a little torn on where he stands, who still figures out the details of his personality but who also knows his strengths and capabilities. In the end, he is energy-unbound, and he is eager to learn about the world in so many ways.

Darius, a boy who lost so much, and a young man who lost just as much. Life hasn't been easy on him. In jwcc grief encouraged him to attend camp, fulfill his father's dream. In jwct that aspect of his personality develops even more - now grief spins him into action, he doesn't wait for things to happen, he acts. He can work with others but he can also rely on himself, he grew up; he knows that he can handle himself, he still learns that he can reach out and ask for help, but he's getting there. He really is.

Not to mention Yas who has always been a creative person. Yes, it may be surprising that I mention that first but look at her now - inventing stuff, conducting projects? Remember her sketchbook in jwcc? Yeah, look where that creativity took her, look where her compassion took her - she helps people by helping herself. It was such a problem for her in jwcc (esp at the beginning) and look at her now - she's miles ahead of her old self.

Their personalities make so much sense because they are a clear continuation of their personalities in jwcc, and that's one of the reasons why jwct is so freaking good.

#jwcc #camp cretaceous #jurassic world camp cretaceous #jurassic world chaos theory #jwct

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p0rk-guts · 6 months ago

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"Pork you literally posted Charlie a few days ago why are you so Hazbin obsessed rn-" ssshhhhshhsshhs.h........ anyway

VAGGIE REDESIGN! And I changed her name also bc I'm jus like everyone else fr. Meet Verbena :)

BREAKDOWN BELOW!👇🏾+ Exorcist uniform redesign :3

Starting with her name this time. Back when she was still a sinner apparently she was Salvadorian and since she's (apparently?) not a former human at all I decided to take a small creative liberty with her decent and made her Venezualan instead. SOUTH AMERICUH❗❗✊🏾 I'm pretty sure Verbena flowers are native to South America so that's where the name comes from.

Onto the design! I don't have much to say abt her design honestly. It's not egregious, but it doesn't really speak to me either. It looks like simple formal wear or uniform with some strange meaningless accessories attached. And those weird itty bitty shoes that look like they're part of her thigh highs... I'm starting to think all the characters's shoes were a last minute afterthought. All and all it tells us nothing about her character. The hair wings are cool tho so I did steal those

Also the whole deal with her eye is strange to me. Why Is the floating X there??? It's a real physical part of the world, other people can see it. Do pink X's always float over angel wounds? If her arm got chopped off would an X float over it? Was it like. A fucking curse visual placed by Lute as a constant reminder of her disloyalty? Why did Carmilla point out it was an obvious marker for her being an angel???? My brain can't fathom why it's canonically attached to her wound. If she was a sinner I'd kinda understand but. Yeah idk. Weird

Also her missing eye does not look like an empty socket it looks like a purple circle was sticker pasted on to her face. It's very flat. How did we go from this

to this

(IT'S EVEN OVERLAPPING ONTO HER NOSE IN THIS SCREENSHOT WHAT IS THAT THING.)

Anyway. I made her hair resemble Polyphemus moth wings because 1. They have eye looking spots and angels are all eyes and 2. Well. Polyphemus has 1 eye. So . 💀

Her overall coloring however is inspired by a Promethea moth. I could say it's because Prometheus defied the gods and Verbena did a similar thing but the real reason is I made a spelling error while initially looking for a Polyphemus moth reference 💀 but hey they both have eye spots! And Iike their coloring for her way better

I also redesigned the exorcist uniform for her redesign bc I wanted her outfit to have reminiscent elements from it.

I gave way less time to the uniform designs, but I still had some main details I wanted to adress. I don't like how they have no armor save for their helmets. Their arm and leg pieces are made of some flexible material that tears easily. It's not giving soldier it's giving soldier costume from party city. The devil like horns are also confusing to see on an angel and the paradoxical design is never addressed. They can be evil and look imposing, but the horns just seem kinda nonsensically on the nose to show how evil they are. At least to me.

In my designs I gave them actual metal armor on their bodies so you can easily tell they're soldiers and it makes sense for them to battle in armor anyway. I also gave them more light "angelic" colors with gold details bc I wanna use gold as a symbol of angelic nature in my rewrite. I wanted their masks to show completely static expressions with wide grins to show how unnerving they are and to allude to the idea that everyone is happy in heaven, and they're all happy to do what they do.

Verbena's belt and shoulder pads draw visual similarities to the pauldrons and mid section pieces in my new exorcist uniforms to draw a connection between her and her past. The Blazer draping behind her back is also supposed to mimic the visual of folded wings. I also tried to do this with all the gold details in her design. The big hoops and belt we're 80's inspired because I decided to follow how in one of her old designs she died in the 60's (even had the big hoops and everything). In my rewrite exorcists are all former humans but I'll get into that later. Also she's got an eye patch now! Just. A normal one.

Charlie is still taller than Verbena just like in the original and idk how tall Vaggie Is exactly but Verbena is like 5'5 while Charlie is 5'11. Verbena's also got more muscle on her bc unless their muscle mass is hidden magically or they don't gain muscle for stupid dumb idiot lore reasons all the exorcists look way too slim to be military grade soldiers but what do I know

I combined a lot of pointy shapes with boxy shapes bc— more similarly to her pilot self— she can be volatile and fierce but also grounded and impassive. I added the slits to her skirt so she can be a sexy formal lady who can still comfortably throw a few kicks, and the heels— well. Idk I feel like she could slay in heels! She definitely doesn't wear em all the time but yeah. Chunky heels. I like them they're cute. Also she's got her little name tag on bc she takes Charlie's job for her SERIOUSLY! she's uh. Idk what is she. A bellhop? General security/protection? Either way she's locked in.

I imagine she had white irises like Adam and Lute along with brighter more saturated and heavenly colors in her hair (color picked from the Polyphemus moth) that turned darker and more harsh after the fall (color picked from the Promethea moth). Really visualizing her emo phase /j

Also I think the little eyes in her hair can emote with her. In the final design the line kinda makes an eyelid and it'd match her eyelid's movements. Sillay

Alright that's a wrap on my Vaggie redesign! No bonus sketches this time bc they're within the texts! Who knows what I'll do next. Who I will deface. I sure don't. I think I might rename Charlie so there's that. Anywhozies hope you like her <3

#my art #digital art #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign #vaggie redesign #exorcist redesign #couldn't add the flaming banner bc i hit photo limit oops #anyway. FUCK VIVZIEPOP ❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗

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enbyfvcker · 6 days ago

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perhaps sub logan soft dom wade gently bullying him into loving himself - i’ve specifically had this idea of maybe incorrect safe word usage (stay with me here trust me hold on) from logan and wade is questioning it when he figures out it’s because he doesn’t feel like he deserves praise and then sappy pwfeelings commences

Tags: smut, dom/sub undertones, soft dom!Wade, incorret safe word usage, praise kink, bottom!logan, top!wade, anal sex, riding

Logan's been around for a long time. He's tried many different things in bed. Call him kinky or whatever. He doesn't mind trying new stuff.

But he wasn't really familiar with the concept of a safe word. He never used it, and neither did any of his partners in the past.

Honestly, if you're sleeping with Logan, it's really not likable you would want to put a stop to everything.

So when Wade brought it up in the middle of a make-out session, Logan kinda thought it was one of his jokes.

Their lips were glued together, and things were getting heated and more intense when Wade pulled away.

"So, just putting it out in the open- My safe word is chimichangas. Thought it'd be nice to share. What's yours, peanut?"

Logan just chuckles softly. "I don't have one, red."

"Whaaat? But it's important!"

"Is it, really?"

"Yes! That's why it has 'safe' in it. It's for safety."

"I could just say 'stop'..."

"What if you say 'stop' when you don't really want me to stop?"

"That'd be stupid."

"You're stupid, sometimes."

Logan glares knives at him.

"Come on, pleease? Be a good kitty and come up with one." Wade insists, and Logan feels his heart flutter at his words. He sighs, trying to think of something.

"Fuck, I don't know- Anything?"

"Yeah, it has no rules, just say the first thing that pops up in your head."

"Uhh- Yellow?"

"You're so not creative, peanut." Wade laughs.

"You said anything!"

"It's alright, pookie. I can be the creative one in this relationship, I'll hold that weight on my shoulders." Logan rolls his eyes.

"So, if you want me to stop at any time just say 'yellow', okay?" Wade asks with a grin.

"Fine, whatever."

"Anyway... where were we?" The merc smirks as he goes back to kissing Logan. He softly pushes him on the bed until Logan's back meets the mattress as Wade's over him.

Scarred hands slip under his shirt to pull it off. Wade throws it somewhere in the room and buries his head on Logan's chest.

"Gosh, love your titties." His voice is muffled against his skin.

"You gotta stop saying weird shit like that." Logan grunts, even though his heart was racing. Wade could hear it.

"And lose all my charm? No way." The merc grins before licking and nibbling Logan's nipple, earning a small groan from him.

"Wh- What charm?" He tries to give a sharp retort, but his voice comes out more desperate than planned.

"Such a hypocrite." Wade chuckles, his hand traveling down Logan's chest, stomach, and thighs until he palms and squeezes the obvious erection straining against jeans. "Your buddy seems to differ."

"Just shut up..." Logan moans, working on Wade's shirt and tossing it on the floor.

"You ask for too much-" Wade's interrupted when Logan crashed his mouth over his, kissing him hungrily and fast.

Logan groans between the kiss and invert their positions, pushing Wade on his back roughly and straddling his waist. "Shut. Up." He pulls away, correcting his posture and looking down at the merc under him that was sporting an awestruck expression.

"Oh, fuck..." Wade gasps at the sight of Logan straddling him, moaning when he moves his hips in a tantalizing roll, their bulges pressing together. Logan smirks as he watches Wade's chest heaving fast, shivering when the merc's hands hold his waist.

Logan removes both their pants and boxers, their skin in contact now when he rolls his hips again. Wade reaches for the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, handing it to Logan. He takes it and spreads the liquid over Wade's cock, stroking it up and down before he positioned it against his entrance, slowly sinking down.

"Oh, fucksweetmarveljesus-" Wade babbles under him, his eyes glued to where they're connecting. A loud whimper leaves his throat when Logan finally sinks all the way down with a groan.

He begins to move up and down in a steady rhythm, slow at first. Wade practically had starts in his eyes as he watches Logan riding him, his hard cock bouncing against his stomach.

"Fuck, peanut- You look soso pretty... God, why haven't we done it in this position before?" Wade speaks between moans. "I'd die happily after beholding such view... So hot, kitty."

Logan's face heat up and his cock throbs against his stomach at the praises, leaking pre-cum.

His heart flutters quickly in confusion. At the same time Wade's words light a fire within him, he also doesn't feel like he deserves them. For so long, people in his universe would barely bat an eye at him, even less desire him the way Wade does.

He never done this before. Everything with Wade seemed so new to him, and he still felt a little self-conscious about it. He wasn't really used to it. He received nothing in the last years but insults. And when Wade praises him, his circuits burst. The wires in his brain sparkling, his movements faltering.

"Need a little help, princess?" Wade smirks, his hands gripping Logan's ass cheeks as he guides him up and down, his hips thrusting upward. Logan's whimpers loudly as the pleasure intensifies, his hands at Wade's chest for support. "Fuck, feels so good- you're so good, baby."

"Wade-" Logan tries, his mind at a war of sensations. Wade's thrusts get faster, his hands strongly guiding Logan's hips up and down.

"Just like that. So gorgeous for me-"

Logan's heart seemed to be about to blow up.

It was too much.

"St- Yellow!"

Wade's movements immediately halt to a stop. Logan tries to catch his breath, hands still in the merc's chest.

"What's wrong, peanut?" Wade asks, trying to search Logan's face, but he was avoiding his eyes. "Did I do something you didn't like?"

Logan doesn't know how to respond. He barely knows what he's feeling. "No... Just... Stop talking..."

Wade tilts his head to the side, a bit puzzled. He could see the blush on Logan's features.

"I didn't say anything much... I just said you look pretty." Logan's cock twitches again at the words and he curses himself internally because Wade definitely noticed.

"Oh..." Wade chuckles. "I see." His hips resume to their previous movements, thrusting up into Logan, earning a surprised moan from his throat. "What, is kitty cat not used to being complimented? Oh, I'm definitely fixing that."

"W-Wade!" Logan whines, his face flushing more now that Wade reads into him.

The merc switches their positions for a second time, pressing Logan down on the bed. He thrusts slowly, hands gripping Logan thighs.

"It's all true. You do look so pretty." His hips move in a steady rhythm, slowly picking up the pace, bullying his way into Logan's hole. Logan whimpers loudly as each thrust hits his prostate, his heart racing. "Look so hot riding my cock, under me, on your knees, from the back... You look gorgeous in every angle, peanut. Wanna draw you naked, frame it and put it in the living room like a fucking renaissance painting."

"Wade..." Logan's moans grow more needy, the words slipping from the merc's mouth only pushing him closer, his face flushed deeply.

"Gonna make sure you know it. Gonna tell you every day. Shower you in praises the way you deserve, kitten." Wade's hand wrap around Logan's dripping cock, stroking him in rhythm with his thrusts, making his eyes roll back in pleasure.

"Fuck- Wade, I-"

"I know, baby. Be a good kitty and cum for me." Logan's back arches, his claws extending in a flash as he spills all over Wade's hand and his own stomach, his vision going black for a moment. He feels Wade's cock twitching before releasing inside him, their moans tangling.

As they catch their breaths, Wade presses his head against Logan's neck and pampers kisses all over his throat and shoulders, pouring all his affection into it.

"Did so good for me. Such a good kitty. You okay?" Wade whispers against his neck.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Logan smiles lazily, still lightheaded.

"I don't think you know how a safe word works, peanut. Next time you like something, just tell me." Wade chuckles.

"My bad, I panicked..." Logan chuckles too, sounding a bit embarrassed.

"You're so cute, Wolvie."

#poolverine #deadclaws #deadpool and wolverine #wade x logan #fanfic #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool 3 #smut #fic rec

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a-aexotic · 9 months ago

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𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, chapter 5

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ! 4.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ! typical gossip girl things, mention of drinking, FIGHTING!!!! (so much of it), making up ;)

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. series masterlist. taglist. ❫

You sat next to Charlene at the dining table, listening to Josie talk about the nursery for the new baby. You nodded along mindlessly, playing with your cereal as your mind raced.

Thoughts of Serena, Blair, Nate, and the tangled web of relationships swirled in your mind, each thread pulling you in a different direction. You felt torn between loyalty to your friends, the desire to maintain peace, and the need to address the underlying issues that had driven a wedge between you all. Lost in your thoughts, you absently stirred your cereal, the clinking of the spoon against the bowl serving as a distant echo in the sea of your racing thoughts.

"Y/N, did you hear me?" Your father spoke as you startled, snapping back to the present moment. You looked up, meeting your father's expectant gaze as he repeated his question.

"Sorry, Dad, what were you saying?" you asked, attempting to mask your distraction with a faint smile.

"I was asking you when the Ivy mixer is. I wanted to come by and help everyone out, I know Lily is in charge of it but I can't get a hold of her." Your father explained as he bit into his toast.

You nodded, recalling the details of the upcoming Ivy mixer. "Oh, right. I think we're finding out today at the assembly. I can double-check with Lily to make sure everything's on track, and I'll let you know if she needs any help."

"Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it. It's always chaotic trying to organize these events." Your dad chuckled as he chewed, moving his gaze back to Charlene. "And uh... for the mixer, Josie was hoping that you'd stick with Charlene and help her get some networking done with the reps. She wants to go to Harvard, like you."

You glanced at Charlene with a faint smile but she ignored you, nodding along to what your father was saying. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"My two daughters at Harvard would be a dream." Your father grinned proudly and again, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

She's not your daughter, you wanted to shout but you bit your tongue and took a bite of your now, soggy cereal.

──౨ৎ──

"And then he was all like, having my two daughters at Harvard would be a dream." You mocked your father as you walked out of the assembly, Blair walking next to you as she scoffed, Kati and Isabel walking close behind you two. "And I wanted to say that she isn't his actual daughter but I didn't."

"You should've. I would pay to see his reaction." Blair smirked as you laughed, nodding along before Blair's expression dropped. She rolled her eyes and you turned to see where she was facing, finding Serena walking toward you. She was late, she wasn't at the assembly.

"Oh, too bad you missed the assembly." Blair feigned sympathy as she looked up at the blonde. "Brown doesn't offer degrees in slut," she continued with an amused expression as Serena offered her a sarcastic smile.

Blair walked away with a proud grin, leaving you and Serena alone. You and Serena both exchanged glances before bursting out laughing. It was supposed to be an insult but you both couldn't help but laugh.

As the laughter subsided, Serena shook her head, a smile still playing on her lips. "Leave it to Blair to come up with the most creative insults."

"Yeah, she definitely has a way with words," you replied, still chuckling as you glanced back at Blair, who was now chatting with Kati and Isabel.

Serena's smile faded slightly as she looked back at you, her expression turning more serious. "Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something about yesterday."

You waved it off, giving her a smile. "I'm sorry I blew up on everyone, I was just stressed out. And don't worry about it, okay? I'm sure Dan will come around."

Serena gave you a sad smile before shrugging. "I... I don't think so but maybe it's for the best. Dan doesn't wanna get involved in all this Upper-East Side bullshit and I don't blame him."

You gave her a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, S."

Serena nodded, her gaze dropping slightly as she played with the edge of her sleeve. "Thanks, Y/N. It's just been a lot to deal with lately."

You reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I understand. But hey, you've always been resilient. You'll get through this too."

Serena offered you a small, appreciative smile before straightening up, determination shining in her eyes. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Y/N."

But before you could reply, you heard Blair's voice ringing in your ear. "Y/N, hurry up we need to get to class." You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you quickly said bye to Serena, catching up with Blair and beginning to walk to class together.

The group was split up into two as you played field hockey. It was all fine up until Blair decided to keep targeting Serena and fouling her. Blair's aggressive targeting of Serena didn't go unnoticed, and it soon became clear that her fouls were deliberate attempts to hurt her.

"Blair, ease up!" you called out, frustration evident in your voice as you gestured for her to back off.

Blair shot you a defiant glare but made no move to change her tactics. Serena, on the other hand, remained composed despite the mounting pressure, refusing to let Blair's antics get to her.

"Enough, Blair!" Serena's voice cut through the tension, her tone firm as she finally stood up to Blair's relentless targeting.

"It's enough when I say it's enough." Blair snapped as she walked away, making sure to hit Serena's shoulder as she did. You and Serena exchanged looks before you sighed, continuing to focus on the game.

And finally, Serena had enough. She ran up to Blair, tackling her to the ground. Serena got on top of her and began pulling her arms as you ran up behind them, irritation on your face as you tried to break them up.

"Get off of me!" Blair shouted as Serena kept pulling on her arms. You tried to get her off of Blair to no use.

"Serena, stop!" you shouted, your voice strained as you attempted to pry her off Blair. But Serena was relentless, her anger driving her actions as she continued to grapple with Blair.

"Is that enough yet?!" Serena shouted back before she accidentally pulled you down with them, earning a grunt from you. She scoffed and got up, but not before Blair could get up. "So it's actually come to physical blows, huh?"

"Guys, what the hell?!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with anger as you pushed yourself up from the ground, feeling the ache from the fall. "This isn't helping anyone!"

But Serena seemed oblivious to your words, her attention solely focused on Blair as she stood there, seething with rage. "You think you can just keep targeting me like this and get away with it? Well, not anymore!"

"Serena, Blair, this needs to stop," you said firmly, your voice cutting through the tension. "Jesus Christ, I mean we're friends, or at least we used to be."

Serena turned to face you, her expression still flushed with anger. "She started it, Y/N. She's been targeting me ever since-"

"I don't care who started it!" you interjected, your voice tinged with exasperation.

Serena looked back at Blair with a little bit of hesitation, sighing before speaking up. "Fine. Truce?"

Blair glared back at you and Serena before her expression turned to pained, a slight smirk on her face as she does so. "Ow! My leg!"

You couldn't believe it. Blair was faking an injury to deflect from the tension of the moment. It was a classic Blair move, but it only served to frustrate you further. You exchanged a bewildered glance with Serena, both of you realizing that Blair was resorting to her usual tactics to cause more issues.

"Blair, come on," you said, your voice tinged with irritation.

Blair winced dramatically, clutching her leg as she looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes. "I'm not faking it, Y/N! It really hurts!" Kati and Isbell ran to her side, helping her stand up as you glared back at her.

"Serena, you're outta here." The coach shouted as Serena walked off, throwing her hockey stick to the ground.

"I hope it's broken." Serena spat as she walked off the field.

You rolled your eyes as you watched Kati and Isbell help walk Blair to the nurse's office. You hated being in between them but they were your best friends, it's just what you have to do. It's part of the job but you were beginning to wonder if all of this was really worth it.

──౨ৎ──

You walked into the Ivy Mixer behind your father and Charlene, who was wearing a Harvard sweater; the same one that your father had also gotten you when you were younger. Your father seemed proud, chatting animatedly with Charlene about the opportunities awaiting her at Harvard.

You glanced around the room, taking in the prestigious Ivy League representatives mingling with students. Despite the elegance of the occasion, you couldn't shake off the tension that had been building within you since the recent conflicts with Blair and Serena.

Your father guided you and Charlene through the crowd, introducing her to some of the representatives and encouraging her to network and make connections. You watched as Charlene navigated the room with ease, her confidence shining through as she conversed with the representatives.

Meanwhile, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. While you had once dreamed of attending Harvard, recent events had left you questioning everything. Did you even want to go to Harvard now apparently, Charlene had to attend too?

"And my daughter, Y/N is the Student Council president of the school. She is also second in her class." Her father spoke as you nodded along, shaking the hand of one of the Harvard reps.

You had worked hard to earn your position as Student Council president and to maintain a high academic standing, but now it all felt hollow. The pressure to live up to your father's expectations, to uphold the family reputation, felt suffocating. And now, with Charlene also vying for a spot at Harvard, it only added to the weight on your shoulders.

"I see you're running low on champagne, would you like me to find you another glass, sir?" You asked politely, offering to assist the Harvard representative in replenishing his drink.

The representative nodded appreciatively, offering you a grateful smile. "Yes, thank you. That would be lovely."

You excused yourself from the conversation with a polite nod and made your way to the refreshments table, your mind still consumed with conflicting thoughts.

You looked up to meet the eyes of Dan, a polite smile on your lips. You didn't know him well but you still felt gulity about the whole Serena and brunch thing, oh and the whole thing with Chuck and Jenny. The poor guy can't catch a break.

"Hey, Dan," you greeted him, setting down the champagne bottle. "I thought you were the Dartmouth usher?"

Dan returned your smile, though there was a hint of hesitation in his expression. "No, Nate is. I thought... actually never mind."

"I know. You deserved to get that position." You whispered as he nodded sheepishly.

Dan's expression softened at your words, a grateful smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate that."

You saw his gaze wander to behind you, you turned around to meet Serena's blue eyes. She walked toward the table, irritation on her face.

"Let me guess, Blair?" You asked and pretended to be shocked when she nodded, Dan letting out a soft chuckle. "Would've never guessed. What did she do?"

"Well, you know how I wanted to go to Brown. And she wanted to go Yale? Well now, somehow, we switched. She's talking to the stupid Brown reps and I'm stuck with the Yale reps." Serena explained as you and Dan exchanged looks.

"Oh, yeah. I get it. I mean since you don't actually have to worry about getting into college, why not make the whole evening about screwing over Blair?" Dan spoke sarcastically as he tried to hand her a drink.

You looked in between them, concern etching your features. Dan seems pretty bitter about the whole thing but you couldn't even blame. And as if things couldn't get even more awkward, Nate walked up to the table, looking at the refreshments.

"Hey." Serena turned to greet Nate, only to be completely ignored. You couldn't help but stifle a laugh as you took a sip of your drink, watching the whole thing.

"Wait, you're seriously not gonna talk to me? Like literally not speak?" Serena's voice held a mixture of disbelief and frustration as she looked at Nate, who remained silent, his gaze fixed on the refreshments.

Nate finally looked up, his expression unreadable as he met Serena's gaze. "Hey."

"Oh, much better. Thanks guys." She sighed, looking in between the boys before looking back at you. You gave her a sympathetic smile before she gives you a thumbs up, walking away.

"That was cold, Nate." You spoke, slightly amusement in your voice as you finally began refilling the champagne.

He glared back at you and you put your hands up in mock surrender as you exchanged a glance with Dan, who looked like he was enjoying the scene. Silence settled in between them before Dan spoke up.

"So, um... what's he like?" Dan asked, referring to the Dartmouth rep.

"Like a Dartmouth English lit professor I have nothing in common with. Guess I could tell him how I got everything because I'm an Archibald." Nate rambled slightly as Dan's expression turned from amused to sympathetic. You took that as your cue to leave, nodding your head to Dan as you walked away.

You put all the drama in the back-burner for the night, deciding to just engage with the Harvard rep. You were slightly glad to see that Charlene began talking more to the Princeton rep, allowing you to focus on your conversation without distractions.

You couldn't help but keep looking through the glass door, watching Nate as he talked with Dan. You noticed when he walked away and when his father tried to pull him back, but he pushed him away. It looked tense but you couldn't afford to get distracted, you just focused on talking with the Harvard rep.

You thought the rest of the evening would go smoothly up until you and Blair got up to announce this year's local institution they were going to sponsor.

"Can I have everyone's attention please?" Blair spoke as she walked up toward the podium, a polite smile plastered on her lips as you followed close behind. "Welcome again to the Constance Billard St Judas Ivy Week Mixer. I'm Blair Waldorf, chair of the the community outreach committee."

You plastered on a polite smile as well. "And I'm Y/N Winfrey, Student Council President."

The crowd began to clap before you continued. "Every year, our schools choose to support one local institution that we feel benefits our community."

"This year, our schools have chosen to honor the Osteroff Center." Blair continued as the crowd applauds. "This semester our choice is a very personal one because the center has helped one of our own."

Your expression suddenly turns to a confused one as you turned to face Blair. This was what she was not what we planned to say. Your eyes scanned the crowd and they fell on Serena and her family and it suddenly dawned on you.

"It's because of their excellent program which aids so many young addicts and alcoholics that a student here with us today is clean and sober." Blair spoke, feigning concern. "At least for now. Can I please have Serena van der Woodsen join us on stage?"

Your jaw dropped but you tried to keep your composure. You couldn't believe Blair. Serena slowly walked up to the stage and glared at Blair, not even acknowledging you.

"Don't try to deny it, Chuck saw you." Blair whispered as you tried to keep a smile on your face, trying to hide the inner panic you feel at the moment. Blair pulls you aside, making sure that Serena is the main focus as the crowd begins to clap.

"Hi, I'm Serena van der Woodsen. I just want to thank my friend Blair Waldorf for recognizing the Osteroff center and all the good things they do. Thanks Blair. Oh, and of course our president, Y/N." Serena puts on a fake smile as she begins to clap, the crowd clapping along.

"At the center, one of the main things that we learn is forgiveness. About how in order to move forward with our future we must forgive those who have wronged us in the past. And we must ourselves ask for forgiveness from those whom we've wronged. Without this forgiveness, innocent people-"

"Alright, thank you Serena. Thank you." She cut her off with a smile as the crowd claps again, Serena walking off the stage. You gave her a sympathetic smile as she walks away, making sure to push Blair slightly so that the crowd could focus on you again.

With a forced smile plastered on your face, you stepped forward to address the crowd once again, trying to regain control of the situation. "Thank you, Serena, for sharing your story with us. And thank you, Blair, for your efforts in organizing this event."

You took a deep breath, pushing down the rising frustration within you. "As Serena mentioned, forgiveness is indeed a very important aspect of moving forward. And tonight, let's remember the importance of supporting each other, even in times of adversity."

The crowd responded with polite applause, but you could sense the tension lingering in the air. But before you could even address Blair, she walked off the stage.

You ran after her, pulling on her arm. "Blair, that was a low blow, even for you."

As you pulled on Blair's arm, she turned to face you, her expression unapologetic. "Oh, please. It's not like I said anything that wasn't true."

But you held on, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, Blair, I won't let you brush this off. What you did to Serena was cruel and unnecessary. You publicly humiliated her in front of everyone. And not just anyone, college reps! That is insane."

Before Blair could respond, Serena came up to her with a tired expression. "What the hell was that? So we good now? We square?"

"No because nothing I do will ever be as bad as what you did to me." Blair spat as she glared up at Serena.

"Look, I'm asking you, please. I'll stop if you will." Serena's voice was hurt as she looked down at the brunette.

"You're just saying that because today, you lost. And you're gonna keep losing." Blair's voice was sharp with bitterness as she glared up at Serena.

Before Serena could respond, you let out a groan as you looked in between your best friends. "I'm done with both of you. Are you serious right now? You are acting like a child, Blair. You have no idea what you did up there, it wasn't even Serena-"

"Y/N, stop. No." Serena stopped you before you could continue.

"Why do I even bother, I'm done. I am done with the petty drama and catfights," you exclaimed, frustration evident in your voice as you turned away from Blair and Serena.

Serena reached out, grabbing your arm gently to stop you from walking away. "Y/N, wait."

You pulled your arm out of her grip and walked away and out of the mixer, you were calling it a night.

"Even Y/N's done with your bullshit, Serena." You heard Blair scoff as you walked off. You didn't even know where you running off to until you were there.

You were in the back of building and you saw Nate sitting on the bench, a blunt placed perfectly on his lips as he took a drag. You knew exactly where to find him. He looked up and noticed you, taking him by surprise.

You didn't say anything, all you did was sit next to Nate on the bench as you put your face in yours hands. You looked up at Nate and he gave you a faint smile before handing you the blunt.

You took a deep drag and you felt your lungs burn up. It had been a while since you'd swore off smoking but you needed, especially after the day you had. And apparently, so does Nate.

As you sat there next to Nate, passing the blunt between you, a heavy silence settled over the both of you. It was a strange comfort, finding solace in each other's company amidst the chaos of your lives.

Eventually, Nate broke the silence, his voice soft. "You okay?"

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as the smoke swirled around the two of you. "Not really."

Nate nodded in understanding, his gaze fixed on you. "Yeah, me neither."

"What's got you all stressed out?" You spoke, leaning back on the bench as you looked back at him.

"My dad." He replied and you weren't surprised. "He wants me to go to Dartmouth and I keep telling him I wanna keep my options open. But he just ignores it. And now he's making me stay with Blair because of-" He paused as his eyes widen, realizing he's revealed too much.

You shake your head, urging him to continue. "I won't tell."

"He said I can't break up with Blair yet because he needs the Waldorfs on his good side because of business." Nate's voice trailed off, his frustration evident in his expression. "It's just... everything feels so out of my control, you know? Like I'm being pulled in all these different directions, and I don't know which way to go."

You listened quietly, understanding all too well the weight of family expectations and the pressure to please others. "That's... messed up," you muttered, unable to hide the concern in your voice. "Your dad shouldn't be pulling strings like that, especially when it comes to your personal life."

Nate let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Yeah, tell me about it. But what can I do? He's not gonna listen to me."

You nodded in understanding, knowing all too well the weight of familial expectations. "It's tough, but you'll figure it out. I know you will."

He returned your smile, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. "So what's going on with you? I thought you gave up smoking."

"I could say the same for you, Archibald." You teased as he let out a little chuckle, his falling back but his gaze still fixed on you. "It's a long... long story. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"Let me take a guess," Nate sat up and turned to face you fully. "You feel like you're constantly being pushed and pulled between Serena and Blair. And the whole daddy issues thing hasn't fixed itself either."

Your eyebrows furrowed at Nate's very true statements. Could he really read you that well or was it really that obvious? You were speechless for a second as Nate let out another laugh.

"I've known you since we were kids, Y/N. I can read you better than anyone else. And plus, it isn't anything new. Serena and Blair have always fought and you've always been in the middle." Nate's words hit home, and you couldn't deny the truth in them. He had always been perceptive, able to see through the facade you sometimes put up for others.

"Yeah, you're right," you admitted with a sigh, running a hand through your hair. "It's just exhausting, you know? Trying to keep the peace between them while dealing with my own issues. Trying to keep everyone happy while feeling like I'm constantly being torn apart. And now with my dad pressuring me about college while also replacing me with Charlene."

Nate listened attentively, his expression sympathetic. "I get it, Y/N. It's a lot to handle. But just know that you're not alone in this. I'm here for you, always."

You looked back at him, a sudden surge of gratefulness hitting you. And suddenly, gulit hit you like a ton of bricks. The whole thing with Serena and Nate, you completely shut him out. You let out an exhale, not really knowing what to even say.

"I'm sorry, Nate."

"Why are you sorry?" He muttered as he looked back at you, concern evident in his features. "I should be the one apologizing. I've been an asshole."

"And I've been a bitch." You replied as you both smiled. You both laughed softly as Nate shook his head.

"It doesn't have to be complicated, you know?" Nate started, his voice soft as he looked at you with sincerity in his eyes. "We've been through a lot together, and I don't want things to be so hard between us."

You sighed, not really knowing what to say.

"Look I meant what I said at the Kiss on the Lips party, I'll forget about my feelings if it means we get to stay friends." Nate whispered as he looked back you, his voice gentle.

"But what if-"

"There's a million what if's, Y/N. And they don't matter." Nate spoke, coming off harsher than expected. "The whole honest truth is the last six months you've been gone have been hell. I have no one who I can be honest with and-and no one I can call at 3 in the morning because I can't sleep. No one I can genuinely depend on to listen to me."

You felt a pang of guilt at Nate's words, realizing the impact your absence had on him. "I'm sorry, Nate. I didn't realize..."

"It doesn't matter, I just want you in my life." Nate's gaze softened as he reached out to squeeze your hand reassuringly. "And we'll stay completely platonic because that's what you wanted, right?"

No. You wanted to shout no but as you thought about Blair and the million other things keep you guys apart, all you do was nod. "Right."

A smile began curving on his lips as he let out a relieved sigh. "Then it's settled."

You smiled back at your best friend. "It's settled."

You guys both gazed at one another for a few more seconds before he spoke up. "We should shake on it. You know, our handshake."

You let out a laugh as you suddenly remember your guys' secret handshake. It had been a while but how could you forget it?

With practiced ease, you and Nate stuck out your hands and intertwined your fingers, executing the series of moves that made up your secret handshake. As you finished, you both laughed again, feeling a sense of normalcy wash over you.

As you finished the handshake, Nate gave you a playful nudge. "See? Nothing's changed between us."

"Nothing at all," you agreed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

You both sat there in silence for a while longer, the weight of the evening fading slowly. In that moment, sitting there with Nate, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Maybe things would be okay, eventually.

Or maybe they wouldn't. But for now, you had each other, and that was enough.

#gossip girl #nate archibald #nate archibald x reader #blair waldorf #chuck bass #gossip girl x reader #gossip girl x you #nate archibald x you #dan humphrey #georgina sparks #chuck x blair #serena van der woodsen #serena van der woodsen x reader #chuck bass x reader

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