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kirozai · 4 months ago

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—HSR YANDERES AS TROPES.

Forced Proximity? Soulmates..? Amenesia! Common tropes that always end up happy! Your favorite characters love you so so much! But.. is it in the way you want?...

content warnings: yandere, toxic love, unreliable narrator, descriptions of gore, unrealistic relationships, unwanted PDA, depressive elements, suggestive, gn!reader (maybe ideas for makeup but most of the part is gn) pairing(s): sunday x reader, blade x reader, aventurine x reader, jing yuan x reader word count: around 350-500 each, 2100+ words in all A/N: I got a tiny bit carried away

Aventurine - Amnesia

WHAT’S PLAYING: engravings - Ethan Bortnick

Your eyes are blinded by the casino lights. The sound of chips being thrown and cards being shuffled fills your ears. Things feel so familiar, but at the same time, completely foreign. You turn your eyes to your lover. At least you think he’s your lover.

Two weeks ago you woke up in the dead of night on a hospital bed feeling numb from your head to the tips of your toes. The hospital lights were blinding making you feel dreary. You slowly regained movement by wiggling your fingertips and finally being able to sit up on the comfortable bed. As you gazed around the room you felt shocked to see gold engravings on the trim of the walls. It’s obvious it was a hospital, but it felt too expensive.

And you? You felt out of place.

A nurse walked into your room with a pan of what seemed like a new IV bag and other things like syringes and such. She turned wide-eyed and gasped as she suddenly dropped the pan of expensive medical equipment. You couldn’t make out what she said as she mouthed something out loud. The drowsiness hit you and you passed out.

The next time you woke up to a man sitting beside your bed in the most luxurious clothes you ever laid eyes on. He looked worried, very worried. Realizing you woke up once again his Avgin eyes-

Wait Avgin?...

“Sweetheart! You’ve been out for months. How are you feeling? Is there any pain? How… Can…?” He spoke quickly but after the first couple of sentences, his words faded into mush.

He called you sweetheart though, you deduced he was someone close to you. Someone that must have cared for you.

But then why do you feel-

Cutting your thoughts you paused. Thinking was causing you too much pain and headache at the moment. You tried to recall what happened.

And at that moment you realize you couldn’t even recall who you were.

After some time of recovery, you were able to get a couple of things down. The handsome man’s name was Aventurine. He is your lover. (?) You two have been together for quite some time now. You were diagnosed with severe amnesia, but your lover was kind enough to explain everything to you. Although, he was still hesitant to explain what happened to you and the reason why you were in the hospital.

You tried to get something out of the many doctors and nurses, but they seemed… scared.

Aventurine never left your side when other people were around. It was either you and him or no one at all. Leaving you lost and not being able to truly be clear about your condition. Everything went through Aventurine.

One day during your walk around the large hospital, Aventurine got a call. He looked at it and furrowed his eyebrows, smiled at you, said it was an urgent call, apologized, and left for a brief moment.

You dragged your IV stand a couple of steps more and abruptly stopped in your tracks as you overheard a pair of nurses talk about… you?

“IPC… they… lies… Aventurine… hiding.” Those were the only few words you were able to make out.

It no longer mattered though because Aventurine’s bright smile found you again and you walked back to your room first. If only you could see the piercing glare that he sent to the nurses. He wouldn’t know what to do if you heard about the fates of them after spreading lies to your pretty head.

After the recovery, you settled in enough to “your life”. Now you sit next to your lover whose luck shines more vibrant than a newborn baby’s laughter. You feel content for the most part.

I wonder if you would still feel content if you were able to take a good look past Aventurine’s perfect poker face. While you sleep he watches you worriedly, wondering if you’ll remember one day. Remember that this perfect love story he crafted isn’t so perfect after all. He wonders how you would react if you were to find out again the atrocities he’s committed in the name of “love”. He holds his chips tightly, but luck has always been on his side.

So tonight like any other night, you’ll smile with no idea of what had occurred in the past. At the end of the day, occasionally it is better to live unaware.

•••

Jing Yuan - Grumpy x Sunshine

WHAT'S PLAYING: Carousel - Melanie Martinez

The Luofu General was known for his joyous laughter and the positivity that he spread throughout the entire planet. He joked and was an infectious smiler. You on the other hand were known as the Yin to his Yang. If Jing Yuan was the sun, you were his moon. It’s adorable on paper, isn’t it?

You do nothing less than agree with the fact that your husband Jing Yuan was very positive. The reason why differed from others though.

You believed the reason he was so happy was because he sucked every smile, every laugh out of you.

Your story was the average fairytale, opposite attracts and then they fall in love. The End.

Unfortunately for you, Jing Yuan was anything but ordinary, and maybe that played a part in your perfect tragedy.

Jing Yuan loved you. You knew that for sure. He had always been a PDA person, always close to you and you would most likely be seen dead than without his arm around your waist. It wasn’t a big deal though. This is what lovers usually do right?

Until you tried to back away. Things got… messy.

Arguments ensued and you realized that he never really treated you as an equal. He loved you, yes, but he viewed you as lesser and somehow put you on a pedestal at the same. exact. time.

“You don’t respect me.” You stated firmly.

“But I love you.” He replied as if nothing was wrong.

You never thought your husband to be a jealous person and truly he was not. The possessiveness is what got you through.

It began small from making excuses on why you shouldn’t go out,

“It’s my day off!” or “It might rain soon.” Both are lazy excuses you’ve heard again and again. Yet you still seemed to fall again and again for his sunshine charms and wits.

You were the perfect lover to Jing Yuan, loving, kind, and malleable to believe whatever he wanted you to believe.

At some point after the large argument you two shared, you didn’t remember the last time when you had left the estate.

You felt stuck, stuck on a carousel that kept going around and around and stuck trying to read between the lines of Jing Yuan’s perfect facade. If you caught him at the wrong time you wouldn’t see him for days and when he would return he would haphazardly apologize with the stupidest excuses.

You never raised your voice anymore after THAT argument though. You were too scared to. So even when he scratches his name into your skin, even if he hugs you so tightly to the point that you feel like your lungs are collapsing, you find excuses for him. For yourself. To make this entire relationship work

Because you love him.

And you don’t not what scares you more anymore. The slight warning in his tone and the ever-present toxicity seeping its way into your originally “perfect” marriage.

Or.

The fact you’ll still stay even if it gets worse.

Why?

Because you love him.

•••

Blade - Forced Proximity.

WHAT’S PLAYING: This is Love - Air Traffic Controller

There’s blood on the walls, the floors, and even on the couch. Anything you’ve been able to find you’ve smashed onto the ground. Your hands are covered in blood. No worries to Blade though. He sits on the couch covered in the blood of a man. Your eyes flicker to the dead body right in front of you. The now dead man who tried to help you escape from this prison Blade oh so lovingly calls “your” home to no avail.

Blade’s red eyes stare into the distance of space. Perhaps he’s wondering what he should do next for your transgressions. Perhaps he is wondering what he can do to make you smile again. Or maybe, he doesn’t care. Maybe he finds happiness and contentedness in your suffering. After all, a being who is forever stricken by mara might find peace in others' pain.

But.

Past this mara-stricken being is a man who does have some semblance of love for you. Blade knew your every like and dislike. He would trail kisses up your neck and on your lips. You’d joke together. You both were disgustingly domestic at times. At least that’s what appeared. Loving Blade wasn’t difficult when every moment you breathed you were near him.

You wear outfits perfectly fitted to your style sponsored by your self-proclaimed lover himself. Anything you want you’ll get. Jewels, clothing, books, anything you could ever desire. It’s nothing but pocket money for the Stellaron Hunter.

Your mascara has been smudged after all the tears. Your sniffles fill up the room, you look at your palms. Hands covered in scratches and blisters from broken glass and accidental burns. You don’t have to worry though, Blade will patch it all up for you. This situation will fade into the past just like all the others. Your head peaks again at the dismembered and maimed body on the floor. You stop breathing yet again. You shut your eyes and open them once again when you feel a warm breath on your neck.

It’s Blade, you can tell that the mara had warned off him. He tightens his arms around your body and somehow pulls you closer than he ever did before in your “relationship”. You blink once again as a tear rolls down your cheek and pray to any Aeon out there for help. Despite this, you're well aware it’s no use. There’s no place in the universe where Blade won’t find you. So you close your eyes to hum a broken chord as you prepare for the cycle to begin again.

•••

Sunday - Soulmates

WHAT’S PLAYING: Butch 4 Butch - Rio Romeo

Fairytale love stories where the prince and the princess lived happily ever after were something that you grew up with on your home planet. As you grew up though, “soulmates” left your mind. Other things like making credits and exploring the galaxies were more on your agenda than finding “true love”.

True love was a fairytale. Something that didn’t exist and that’s what you stood by ever since.

Ever since your planet was destroyed by its inhabitants. If people couldn’t love the homes they lived in how could they ever love one another?

You enjoyed travel, you enjoyed learning about other planets, cultures, and people. You didn’t have time for the nonexistent love. Though you enjoyed hearing the stories of it. You’ve met others who found their “soulmates”, their one and only blessed by the Aeons themselves.

On your travel across the world, you stumbled on Penacony, The Planet of Dreams and Entertainment. The perfect and endless days are what brought you in the most. You could be there for days on end but turn out to only spend a couple of hours outside in the “real world”.

Real world huh?

You think you miss the real world a little bit.

“Are the pastries not to your liking love?” Sunday inquires.

“They’re… fine.” You reply.

Sunday smiles. You don’t know what it means though. He smiles at everything, he smiles at gatherings, at your laughter, and even at the tears you desperately try to hold in. He thinks of you as something to be protected, something that should be kept safe in a cage, away from the tainted lies of others.

Everything feels uncomfortable, from the moment you met Sunday you felt an odd gravitational pull towards him. It was truly as if he was your soulmate.

Except,

Something begged you to run away, something deep in the back of your soul. It all went away when you laid eyes on him though.

You wish you listened to your fight AND flight response.

Everything you wear is coordinated by the Head of the Oak Family. From the tiniest detail to your entire personality. Sunday is a firm believer that only the true you can come out behind closed doors, with locks only he has access to. His mansion was the perfect enrichment for a now flightless bird like you.

Perhaps the fairytales were somewhat true. The prince and the princess always seemed to stay forever together.

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midday-clouds · 6 months ago

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Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》I Part II Part III Part IV

There are many yandere batfam x neglected reader but I can't get enough of them--- So here is a silly story idea I have

I don't go into too much detail about how the reader is immortal but I'll probably share about it another timeee

CW: Neglect, Self-Degrading, Kidnapping, Violence(Being shot at), Blood, "Death"

Reader is a product of a hookup between Bruce and some random other woman, your mom

You and your mom had a decent relationship. The two of you would help each other out and have fun playing games. You were so content without knowing who your father was.

Your world begins to collapse when your mom doesn’t come home one day. A bunch of strange people suddenly come into your house and drag you out. You never understood what happened that day besides that you were now alone.

After your mother is announced dead, you find out that you are related to the millionaire, Bruce Wayne. You don’t know much about him but still find yourself put on the Wayne Manor's doorstep

Bruce had just gone through the loss of Jason and had just taken Tim in. He would have happily made some space in his schedule but a case always comes up and makes him forget about you.

Due to Bruce being too busy, you never properly mourned for your mother. Alfred would try to help you but you needed your dad.

For the first week, you locked yourself in your room, almost immediately forgotten by the rest of the family. Alfred would bring meals to your room, knowing that you aren't ready for any sort of interaction in this state.

Alfred tries to convince Bruce to prioritize your health but there is always a case that takes up all of his attention

After that first week, you become comfortable enough to try and get out of your room at least.

With you around the manor more, the family begins to see them more often but not enough to care.

All of them were busy being vigilantes and weren’t interested in connecting with you. Sure, don't mean to neglect you, but some criminals just don't know when to stop

This worsens your mental state, making them regret not trying to bond with their family earlier. If they had tried in the beginning, then maybe they would have made connections with your new family. Now it feels like they've lost their chance

Alfred would do his best to comfort you but he could only help so much.

When you met Dick, it was when he was stopping by to talk to Bruce. You both had a fun conversation together but that was it.

After that first interaction, you tried to talk to Dick more often when he stopped by, but it seems the first time was just lucky. Dick always had something that didn't allow for a quick chat,

Meeting Jason was honestly terrifying. You were in the kitchen when you heard some noise from outside. It's dark outside so you walk up to the window to see what the sound was

Because of the darkness outside and lights inside, you mainly just see your reflection when looking outside

You squint your eyes to try to see past the reflection when a red helmet pops up and frightened you

Falling onto the ground, you stare in shock at seeing the stranger open the window and step inside

Jason tries to relax your nerves by taking off his helmet, showing he isn't a threat. It doesn't help much when you don't even know who he is

He explains himself after seeing your confused look and you both end up having a small conversation. It was nice until Bruce came in and pulled Jason away.

You never seem to meet Jason again

There were very few instances where you interacted with Tim. Even though you lived in the same house, Tim was always busy.

You’d both exchange small greetings when seeing each other in the hall but that was it. You didn't want to disturb him so you never stopped by his room

you hoped that when Tim had free time, the two could hang out. However, Tim always made plans that you couldn't fit into

Sometimes you would hear that Tim has been playing a game with his friends and you would play it but by yourself.

After a couple of years, Damian enters the family and you were so excited

Because Damian was new to the family, you thought it would be the perfect opportunity to bond with him

That didn't go well. He almost stabbed you

Your opinion of Damian was quick to go sour.

Damian's acts to show authority have gotten you scared of walking around the manor and frightened of animals. Specifically Titus.

It is quite unfortunate as you love animals and to have a dog in the family would bring you so much joy. Too bad Titus has attacked and chased you on multiple occasions

You didn't know what to do with the violence Damian had been taking out on you. You don't feel comfortable talking to Bruce and don't want to bother Alfred. This leads to you bottling up your emotions and locking yourself in your room

During your time, you spent reflecting on your life. Being in the manor isn't helping your mental health so it would be good to go outside more. Due to your constant attempts to bond with your family, you don't spend too much time with your friends from school

Seeing this as another perfect opportunity, you make plans with your friends to get out of the house and have a bit of self-care

Once the day comes, you quickly pack a small backpack and leave the house, only leaving a note for Alfred that says where you're at.

Finally getting some “fresh” air and being surrounded by those who feel more like family than your real family

You all have the best day and make plans for more get-togethers.

It may not be the safest to be out so often but you’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, you know the safety procedures to stay safe. There isn't much news on you so people don't even recognize you as Bruce’s kid

Of course, something had to happen

You and your friends had just finished a fun day and you realize that your bike was stolen, meaning you don't have a way home. Your friends offered to take you home but you declined out of politeness. If something does go wrong, you ask your friends to call you to check up on you

Your walk home is longer than expected and it’s getting darker. As you walk through the streets of Gotham, you’re suddenly pulled into an alley and are threatened with a gun

There a three masked guys and one of them seems to have recognized you as Bruce’s kid, changing their plan to use you for ransom

You’re knocked out and taken to an abandoned building where you’re tied up to a pipe in the back

The kidnappers have a ransom letter and take it to the Wayne manor, including the small backpack you carried around

Unfortunately, Alfred was on his month-long vacation and Bruce was the one to receive the letter

He takes the time to contact "all" his kids and they're all perfectly fine and he doesn't recognize the backpack that was sent with the letter. There was a wallet but no ID card of any kind. The letter also didn't have a name on it.

Bruce brings up the case to the rest of the family but they agree that it may be a scam.

The letter was likely from some desperate person who was trying to trick Bruce into giving money so it was put on the side while the family worked on a bigger case.

Because of this, you’re held hostage for an unknown amount of days before the kidnappers get tired of waiting and shoot you in the gut out of frustration

You’re filled with immense pain from the bullet before darkness consumes you.

More days pass before you wake up, still tied to a pipe and blood stained clothes

It seems your kidnappers had left your body behind rather than getting rid of it. You’ve been struggling with the rope since you have been taken and it was paying off because you can see that you can almost get your hands free.

Once you're out of the building, it is midnight. You immediately run back to the manor the moment you find a family path.

No one is there to notice you make your way back to your room. Because of how long it's been, you don't leave a trail of blood. Maybe some dirt but hopefully it won't be too hard to clean up

You debate on what action to take next. Looking in the mirror, the injury from the bullet is gone and you don't want to go to the hospital

One thing that is clear though is that you are extremely hungry and how dirty you feel. With this on your mind, you do your best to clean yourself up before going down to the kitchen

You don't feel comfortable talking to anyone so thankfully the rest of the family is busy at night,

Once you are sure no one is around, you take a bunch of snacks and hurry back to your room

In your room, you eat everything until you finally feel full. Hopefully, you don't just throw everything up because it feels so nice to finally have something in your stomach

Your nerves begin to relax and you truly take in the events that happened

How are you still alive? You were shot and haven't had food for days. What happened? Did Bruce not get the ransom letter? Why did no one save you? Did your friends call you?

Quickly remembering your friends, you look for your phone but are unable to find it. Not wanting to worry your friends, you open up your laptop to contact your friends through there. You see that you've gotten multiple calls and messages from your friends and it honestly makes you happy, knowing that there were people that worried and cared about you. You quickly text your friends and tell them what happened (Not mentioning how you survived being shot)

During your chat, the topic changes to college stuff. Your senior year has just ended a couple of weeks ago and it would be good for you to move out and be closer to those that make you happy. Also, after the kidnapping, you don’t want to be near your current family. They were the reason you were kidnapped and didn’t even bother to help you

Your friends suggest going to college outside of Gotham, perhaps in Bludhaven.

After many years of being stuck in a family that does nothing but hurt you, you got an acceptance letter for a school in Bludhaven. You were so happy and had a small celebration with your friends. Unfortunately, none of your friends would be joining you but you couldn’t wait to truly be free.

Alfred returns from his vacation and reviews all the work that he left behind, along with Bruce’s mail. He knows Bruce has likely already reviewed them but it helps Alfred get back on pace with his work

He finds the discarded ransom letter and immediately checks up on you.

When he goes to your room, he finds the room empty besides some items that you weren’t planning to bring to college with you. This worries Alfred more and goes to Bruce’s office to confront him about the letter.

Bruce is filled with immense guilt when he realizes he forgot that you existed and now you could be dead in an abandoned building. Him and the rest of your family completely forgot about you

Bruce has an emergency meeting with everyone where he explains the situation. Once a plan is set, they all go out in the night to find you. However, they only find loose restraints with dried-up blood and a broken phone.

When the family returns to the manor, Tim goes to his room to fix the phone, Bruce and Damian go to the Batcave to review the cameras, Dick and Jason decide to visit your room

With Alfred’s help, Dick and Jason find your room and take a look around. It isn’t the biggest and barely has anything in it.

Jason finds some old and filled journals and looks through them. There is a checklist for school work, notes to yourself, and personal entries. He understands the emotions you put in your journal and wants to protect you. Especially when he reads your last entry about your kidnapping

Dick looks at the decorations you have on the wall. There are some glow-in-the-dark stars, some posters from school events, etc. One of the posters is for a theater show and he wonders if you were a part of it. Either an actor or tech person, Dick wonders why he never heard about your shows. He attempts to take a poster off the wall but the tape used peeled some of the paint off the wall.

Bruce loads up the camera and looks at what happened the day the ransom letter was given to Bruce. You had this happy smile as you made sure you had everything you needed before going through the front door. About a week later, Bruce sees you on the camera, in bloodied clothes and completely exhausted. This brings a wave of relief to Bruce while Damian looks closely at the camera footage. The front of your shirt is covered in blood and has a hole in it, but you seem completely uninjured.

The last thing the two see of you is you slowly taking your stuff out of the manor and officially moving out

Bruce and Damian find your room to update Dick and Jason on their findings.

They’re thankful that you’re alive but still need to see you in the flesh. Looking around your bedroom, there aren't many clues about where you have gone.

Tim takes a few days to fix the damage on your phone. At the very least, he needs to save the data that was kept on the phone. After messing with a few parts of your phone, he transfers all the data to his computers.

Once everything is saved, Tim lets his curiosity get the best of him and looks through all of your stuff before informing the rest of the family. All your photos, text messages, etc. He sees all the calls and voicemails your friends sent you on the day you were kidnapped.

Tim continues to learn more about your interests and your efforts to spend time with the family. You ranting to your friends about only playing a game or reading a book because someone in the family has read or played it.

Tim ends up having a copy of all your data for personal use before speaking to the rest of the family

Your phone is finally fixed and Tim can use it to find the location of your laptop. All the way in Bludhaven

With new hope, the family begins their search for you

They just need to take you home and keep you safe

Forever

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batboys #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #platonic yandere #neglected reader #yandere dc

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logansbaby · 9 days ago

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DIET PEPSI | Logan Howlett

❥ summary: stuck in a place of unspoken desires and longing, the limousine drives only further ignite the spark between logan howlett and you. months of built up lust, feelings, and emotions bubble over when you take control.

word count: 8.1k

pairings: old man logan howlett x fem!reader

content warnings: 18+ content MDNI, masturbation, messy kissing + spitting, oral (f receiving), begging, dry humping, pussy pronouns bc i said so, unprotected p in v, gagging?, car sex, pet names (baby, honey, princess), logan being logan

❥ a/n: this is a repost from my old account but please enjoy anyway! this was inspired by diet pepsi by addison rae <3 ive said it before but reading this back, i need to be sedated omg

— ⋆˚୨♡୧⋆｡˚⋆

TENSION simmers in the air of the limousine as two people engage in a silent staring contest through the rearview mirror. The cool air blasting from the air vents does little to dismantle the heat bubbling in the small space.

Though nonchalance is painted on your face, a darker, seductive glint glimmers in your eyes, a challenge settling within them. You tilt your head, tongue slipping out to glisten your lips with saliva.

There's no shame evident in your gaze; your body is thrumming with pure, hot need and you could cry out with how bad you need the man in the driver's seat.

Logan isn't faring much better— fists gripping the steering wheel so tight that his healing knuckles turn white, a frown etching deep in his features. He’s desperate to hold onto the tiny sliver of control he has left, mind working to come up with anything to keep him away from giving into this.

This thing between you both started the minute you settled in the backseat of his limousine all those months ago and the unspoken desire has only grown since then.

It’s like there’s something tethering you to him— it’s why you keep coming back to him, calling for his car services despite the fact that your car has long since been fixed. You find yourself craving him, though you haven’t even had a taste.

Yet.

You won’t give in first, though. As much as you’ve wanted to climb over the seat and suck his cock right then and there as he drives, you’ve held back, just barely.

Logan is a man of very few words and he prefers actions to voicing his feelings. He’s shown you he’s softened to you in the way he hums as you ramble on each car ride. He’s shown it in the way he shows up when you both know you don’t need his help anymore. He doesn’t say it, but you know he wants you as much as you want him, and you’ve been waiting for him to finally give in, to make you his.

As soon as you sat down tonight, fresh from the club, you knew something was bound to happen, especially with the way Logan’s been eying you the entire drive.

Which, it’s important to note that your destination leads to nowhere, you just crave to be as close as possible.

You lean back against the seat, eyes speaking a thousand words as they meet his once more. God, he’s so handsome. His pretty hazel eyes, the slope of his nose, the salt and pepper stubble across his cheeks. Oh, how you want to feel the burn against your—

“Stop that.” Logan’s grunt snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Stop what?” You go for innocence but really, your tone is saturated in want, lust coating each syllable.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what, Logan?” You’re challenging him, and though you can’t see it from the backseat, his dress pants get considerably tighter at the defiant, bratty tone of your voice. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Bullshit,” He counters, eyes flickering to yours and you choose then to bite down on your glossy lips. His knuckles flex with the urge to release the claws piercing beneath his skin; is he crazy for being jealous that he’s not the one biting into the plush skin? “You’re staring at me like you want me to fuck you.”

Heat spreads from your chest to your cheeks at his bluntness. It’s completely correct, but the dirty truth makes you flush, and your panties dampen at the thought.

“It’s not gonna happen, baby.” His tone is confident, sure and it pisses you off. “It’s not, so knock it off.”

You roll your eyes, turning to stare out the window. You’re not sure when it started raining, but the water droplets hit the glass pane harshly with the momentum. The pitter patter of water should distract you from Logan, but it just sends you further spiraling.

How dare he deny your feelings and then call you baby?

Blah, blah, blah! His reasons for keeping you apart are pathetic. You could care less for the years he has on you— you’re a grown woman, and fully capable of deciding what you want. You don’t care what kind of a man he was before he met you; your feelings for him defeat any sense of logic your mind might muster.

You remember how it felt the first time you saw him; wild, untamed butterflies erupted in the pit of your stomach the moment Logan’s eyes met yours. You remember how your name sounded on his lips, a rough voice rendering chills across your skin.

That day had been a shitty one, everything had seemed to go wrong. Even more so when your car broke down and your then boyfriend refused to pick you up, instead sending you a link to a limousine service. You were sure nothing would get better from that point on.

But when you sat down in his car, Logan’s presence made you feel safe, and you wracked your brain as to why a stranger made you feel so comfortable, more than anyone had in a while.

Evidently, you kept calling the limo service (if you silently praised your ex for leading you to Logan, no one had to know).

You remember how you began looking forward to seeing him. You remember how talking with him, telling him about whatever, felt normal. You remember how being in the vicinity of him felt like taking a breath of crisp, cool air after months of no oxygen.

Logan’s picked you up from the bar, carried you to your apartment door when you were too drunk to do so yourself. Logan has veered off course when your stomach audibly rumbled during a drive to work. He even grabbed you a milkshake from your favorite retro diner when you told him how you dumped your ex.

He’s been there in every way that counts— he’s close, but not close enough.

Somewhere along the way, you’ve become love sick, reduced to a yearning mess each time you see him, each time only furthering your feelings. All you want is for Logan to accept this thing and let you in, let you ease his troubles and care.

And, you might also want is Logan’s dick deep inside you, his strong body hovering over yours as he fucks you dirty, hard, and rough.

But, details.

“Whatever, Logan.” Huffing, your eyes roll to further showcase your opinion. You shift in your seat, crossing your legs and the action causes the tiny, black dress to slip further up your thighs.

And because Logan has a staring problem where you’re concerned, he sees the roll of your eyes, the expanse of thigh that’s showing. Whenever you’re like this, so unashamed of your need for him, it makes him want to let go of any morals and throw your legs over his shoulders and devour you, lick up the slick he smells. He’d like to finally shut your mouth up, finally stop those bratty comments from pouring out as he fills you up.

Instead, he stays quiet and focuses on the empty road ahead. He can do this, resist your hazy eyes and luscious lips long enough until he gets you to your destination. The radio is switched on then, some pop song filtering through the vehicle in an attempt to lessen the thick, sexual strain permeating the air.

Though, that little action seems to unravel any sense of control over the situation.

His indifference annoys you; here you are, adorned in a black, lacy dress that does nothing to cover your thighs and grips your body deliciously. You even turned down an attractive man at the club in favor of having Logan pick you up; just the thought of him made you immune to another’s charm.

How embarrassing are you? Staying loyal to a man that has decided the course of your relationship without input from you. You would’ve walked away if it were any other person, but you’ve also seen the way he eyes you each time you get inside his car, seen the way his fingers go white as he grips the steering wheel, seen the way his cock goes hard at the sight of you.

And that’s when you decide you’re sick of this. Sick of Logan denying you both mind altering pleasure, sick of him pushing you away, sick of him deciding what’s best for you when you can make your own decisions.

A noisy clink! resounds as you unbuckle your seatbelt, and move toward the front of the car. You feel the prickling gaze on the side of your face as you fit yourself onto the console, hand reaching to turn off the radio knob. You let your fingertips barely graze Logan’s arm as you do so, and you’d think he’s unfazed had you not been so close to see the shudder rack through him, to hear the gruff inhale that has a shaky lilt.

In the corner of your eye, you see his mouth part, but before he can scold you, you remove yourself and land back against the cushion. If you’re going to do this, you want his entire attention on you, not on some shitty song filtering through the radio station.

You adjust yourself, wiggling until you’re comfortable. Parting your thighs, you feel your confidence soar as you note how Logan’s eyes track your movements.

The dress is bunched up around the tops of your thighs and with the way your legs are open, stretched enough that your ankles lean against the opposite sides of the leather, your lacy thong is on display.

One hand trails down to the spot between your legs, where you’re slick and wet with want. You don’t touch yourself right away, instead petting the supple skin of your inner thighs. The other hand moves to caress your breasts as they threaten to spill from the confines of the dress. You sigh, a shiver racketing through you as nimble fingers brush your most sensitive spots with a mere graze.

“What are you—“ Logan starts, but you cut him off because you’re sick of him taking charge of everything.

“Shut up, Logan.” You’re trying to sound stern but with the way you’re softly petting your nipples through the fabric, it’s more breathy than authoritative.

“Fuck,” Logan spits out, trying really hard to not crash but it’s proving to be a bit impossible with the way he can see you teasing yourself. What’s worse is the fact that the intoxicating scent of your pussy is assaulting his senses. He feels high on your smell, on the way he watches through the mirror as you pinch your chest. “Fuck.”

“You know…” You start, but it’s interrupted by a sudden inhale as you finally touch your tender clit through the thin material, pads rubbing softly until that familiar, hot feeling fills your stomach. “I wish I stayed at the club a little longer.”

“Is that right?” If your eyes were open, you’d see how unhinged and feral the man looks. The skin of his knuckles split open as his claws peak out.

A whimper rings loud into Logan’s ears and fuck, that angelic noise will haunt him for the rest of his fucking life. His eyes snap back to see you slowly rolling your hips into your hands, fingers playing with your clit lazily.

“Mhmm, I shouldn’t have called you. Not when you constantly ignore me.” You whine, spreading your legs further apart, feeling a rush you’ve never felt before warm your entire body at the show you’re putting on. “You pretend there’s nothing here, you pretend you don’t want me, and it pisses me off.”

He’s trying so incredibly hard to force the words ‘knock it off and cover yourself up’ out, but he can’t.

He can’t when it’s the furthest thing from what he actually wants. He can faintly see the wet spot on your underwear, and he wants to scream at you to remove the material all together— he’s that desperate to see your puffy, pretty cunt glisten in all its glory.

“I don’t ignore you, baby.” It’s grunted out, the pain of his claws only aiding in his desire as his cock grows uncomfortably stiff in his pants. “But I can’t give you what you want.”

Another roll of your eyes sends a shiver down Logan’s aching back. Oh, if you don’t knock it off, he’s going to make you cry as he fucks your mouth until you’re a mess.

Happy thoughts… Logan thinks, calm thoughts.

“There was this guy in the club.” By the tiny smirk on your lips, he knows he shouldn’t take the bait. He knows you’re trying to push him, trying to get him to let go and take what you both desire. He knows he shouldn’t fall for it.

Too bad hes never been good at listening.

“What?”

The lethal, cold trill of his voice has your eyes flying open and you have the audacity to fucking moan. You’re usually not this… bold? Perhaps Logan just turns you into a feral, needy thing.

“Yeah, he was cute too!” You hum, bubbles of laughter tumbling from bitten lips at the way Logan stares at you, how he gives you a warning look. “He offered to by me a drink, said he wanted to dance.”

“He’s a dick.”

“No, he said I’m pretty.”

“You are pretty.” It’s angry, the way he forces it out, not because it’s untrue, but because the idea of another man trying to make a move on you, his girl, sends anger boiling beneath his skin.

“He was nice, I don’t know why I bothered to turn him down.” It’s through a moan, the way the words are murmured because your fingers are now rubbing circles over your sex in a way that has your hips jolting, legs shaking, and lips shiny with spit.

“He’s an asshole, only wants one thing from you.”

“I don’t care, what if I want only one thing from him too?”

“Careful.” He practically growls, the limousine swerving slightly before he gets control over the wheel again.

He’s not sure when you’ve become so fucking obscene, but he aches to bend you over the hood of the car and teach you a lesson. He’s so overwhelmed with the turn of events, of how so many feelings swirl around beneath his ribcage.

He knows he’s been pushing you away, ignoring whatever spark you have, but fuck? The knowledge you can slip away from him at any moment makes him feel agonized.

“Jealous?” You taunt, the material of your underwear darker with the slick pooling there and you both know Logan can see it.

“No.”

“I gave him my number, you know.” It's spoken so nonchalantly that a snarl threatens to escape deep from Logan’s throat. “He said to call if I need anything…”

“Watch it,” it’s calmly muttered, but Logan’s anything but. He’s torn between actually focusing on the road and watching your fingers roll your clit in the rear view mirror. That, and anger rolls off him in thick, daunting waves at a man he doesn’t even know.

You’ve got him wrapped around your pretty finger and he’s a fool to think anything else. He’s a fool to think he’s been successful in the suppression of his feelings.

“Maybe I should call him,” You suggest, your hand slipping beneath the sodden mesh and finally touching your clit properly. “He was hot.”

Logan’s so wrapped up in your euphoric face and honeyed voice that he’s struggling to remember why he’s riled up.

“Stop tryna piss me off. You’re gonna regret it.” He’s stern, but you just smile and slip the pads of your fingers down to swipe up the arousal pooling at your hole, your whiny pants making his spine go rigid.

“I’m not doing anything, Logan.”

“Bullshit. Whatever you think you’re doing, it’s not gonna work. This can’t happen.”

He’s trying so hard to convince himself as much as you. His words anger you though, because the furrow of your brow deepens and you huff.

“You don’t want me?” You challenge, and you stare him down as your fingers retreat from your cunt. You lift your hand up to your mouth, never once looking away as you stick them past your lips and suck.

Your body jolts when the car swerves wildly, but instead of fear, blistering lust fills you and heats your cheeks. Logan looks so incredibly distraught with how your lips wrap around your fingers, a soft ‘hmmm’ falling from you at the taste of desire blooming across your tastebuds.

“Shit, princess. ‘Course I want you. You don’t know how bad I need you.”

“Please.” You cry out and fuck, you could kill him. Your fingers part from your wandering tongue, traveling down the path of your curves to find your pussy. “Please, please—“

“No.”

“Logan!” You’re so overwhelmed with your blatant need for the man that actual tears pool across your lashes.

“No.”

“And why the fuck not?”

“Don’t give me attitude.” He commands and you must be sick because the stern, finality of his tone has your hole clenching around nothing. “You know why.”

“—oh my god, Logan. Not this again, the ‘I’m too old for you’ excuse is bullshit! I couldn’t care less, I want you to fuck me.”

You’re so forthright that he can’t be blamed with how his stomach churns with intense hunger.

“Way too old for you, baby. You deserve so much more, more than I can give you.”

Logan seems to forget that as much as he’s come to know you, you’ve also picked up on his own habits. So, you know he’s full of shit by the twitch of his hands on the wheel, the tightening of his lips, the way he’s staring at you like a man starved.

“You know what? Fine, that’s fine. I’ll just call Nate and—“

“Who?” The lethal note in his words should scare you, but it just sends another wave of slick to kiss your thighs.

“Nate! The guy from the club,” you say, one hand reaching for the phone hidden in your purse, and the other rubbing circles on your neglected clit.

“I told you, the guy sounds like a dick. The fuck kind of name is that?” Logan’s patience is running out and you both know it, the string tearing further with each tug you give. His eyes widen when you wiggle the phone in his eyeline.“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Why? At least he was willing to fuck me.”

And, oh.

You’re not sure what causes you to say that, but the atmosphere turns tense, filling with anticipation, something dark and dangerous enough that chills run across your skin.

It’s silent. Astonishingly silent as Logan tears his gaze from you, his eyes only forward now. You don’t back down; you know you’re driving the man crazy and it feels fucking good.

Without tearing your eyes from him, you hit the call button.

The sound of the phone dialing has Logan snapping. The car tires screech loudly as Logan slams on the breaks, yanking the wheel to pull of to the side of the road.

Your hands fly out to catch yourself from the swift, jerky motion. A sense of accomplishment bubbles inside your chest as Logan shuts the car off, his body frantic and hurried before he’s out the driver's door.

You’re jittery with nerves, despite the fact you were just rubbing your clit like a madwoman in front of him. You were tempting him, sure. But now that he’s finally snapped, you’re nervous.

You gasp as chilly air hits you in the face when the back door opens. In an instant, he’s in the back with you, slamming the door shut. His presence is so intimidating and powerful that you shiver, arousal licking at your spine as he crowds into your space.

He glares at you, and just as about you’re about to speak, a rough, large hand grips your chin tightly. He squeezes your cheeks, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. His other hand yanks the phone from your fingers and chucks the device in the front seat.

“So fucking stubborn and bratty, always fucking pushing me. Never stop talking, do you?”

“I’ll have you kno—“

Logan slams his mouth onto yours then, effectively shutting you the fuck up.

Oh.

It’s like fireworks are set off in your stomach, a trickle of mind numbing pleasure tingling every inch of you. You’ve imagined this moment for months, wondered how it’d feel, but nothing your imagination conjured up could ever compare to the real thing.

Logan’s kisses are passionate, eager. He lifts your entire body into his lap in one, quick motion. The causal display of his sheer strength causes your body to melt into him. Your choked gasp is swallowed by his lips, his tongue licking at yours and oh, the warm wetness of it sends a wave of flutters straight to your cunt.

His mouth is harsh, the scruff of his beard scratching at your chin with a tasteful burn. His rough hand leaves your thigh to snake into your hair, wrapping the around his fingers until a messy ponytail forms. Without warning, he tugs firmly to pull you from his mouth.

He watches as your eyes fly open, as a string of saliva connects from his lips to yours. He feels pride thrum within his chest as you try to lean in immediately, chasing the taste of him, his kiss, his tongue.

Logan doesn’t allow you though, yanking at your hair to keep you in place.

“Not speaking now, are you?” Logan grunts out, tugging your head back so he can lick a hot, wet stripe up the expanse of your neck. He sucks at the skin there, hips threatening to thrust up at the moans spilling from your open mouth. “Finally found a way to keep you fuckin’ quiet.”

“Logan—“ you start, mind cloudy with the overwhelming feeling of his wet mouth on your skin, but he just smashes his lips on yours again.

And holy fuck, the way he’s kissing you, like he’s been starved of a meal and you’re the only one to satiate the hunger, like he can’t get enough of your taste, has your panties growing even wetter. You snake your arms around Logan’s neck tightly, hips swiveling down in his lap so you can rub yourself over his bulge.

Your moan tangles with the surprised groan from Logan when your center grinds down on his cock, the feeling indescribable, utterly intoxicating and above all— right.

His hand releases your hair in favor of grabbing handfuls of your ass and squeezing, guiding your hips as he licks at the roof of your mouth.

It’s almost embarrassing how riled up you are with just kissing and humping, but you can’t be blamed, not really. Not with the way Logan’s dragging your cunt along his hard cock as he sucks your tongue— it’s so fucking good that his pants are wet with your wetness, even through your panties.

When you finally pull back, its with his bottom lip tucked between your teeth, enticing a hiss from the man as you bite down. You lose your hands in his messy hair, tugging until his eyes open and fuck— his pupils are huge, dark with need for you.

Cradling his cheeks, you lick at his lip, soothing the sting your teeth left. You startle as Logan thrusts up in reaction, the head of him tapping your clit, and despite the barriers between you, it feels fucking amazing.

Logan catches your lips in a messy, slick embrace. There’s no gentleness, only pure sensuality leading his bruising kisses. You get so wrapped up in the pleasure of Logan’s mouth on yours, his cock rutting into your clothed center so delectably that time is lost.

When you push Logan’s face away, it’s because your lungs burn with the need for oxygen.

Logan’s unfazed, lips moving down your throat and leaving wet kisses across your neck. You’re sucking in oxygen desperately, hands shaky as they stroke up and down Logan’s back.

“Fuck, I can smell you.” He mutters against your collarbone, rough hands roaming all over your body, as if he needs to memorize the feel of you.

“Yeah?”

You’re a fucking mess— hands wrappped tightly around the back of his neck, leaving scratches that stay for longer than they would’ve decades prior, and you’re still rolling your hips in his lap, trying and failing to ease the ache in your cunt. It only further intensifies the achy throbbing with each grind of restless hips.

“Smells so fuckin’ sweet. Gonna let me have a taste, baby?”

“Yes! Please, Logan, please.” You’re far too gone, too drunk on the feel of his lips on your skin to care how pathetic you sound.

You lean back, grabbing Logan’s face to meet yours, sighing softly as your wet lips melt together once more. He groans, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair, tugging hard as he turns your head any way he pleases, using you.

You’re not sure how much time passes as Logan devours your mouth, it could be mere minutes or hours, but you’ve been too tangled up in his to care. What you do know is that you feel as though you’re going to explode if you don’t relieve the pressure in your abdomen soon.

You’re whining, pawing at Logan’s chest and rubbing your wetness on the pant of his thigh, trying to get the man to touch you moremoremore.

But Logan’s too occupied with sucking on your tongue and biting your bottom lip meanly. He uses the grip he has on your hair to keep you there, rendered useless as he messily kisses you breatheless.

“Logan, Logan, Logan.” You moan and even though it’s mumbled into his own lips, he hears you all the same.

“Need you. Please.”

And then, it’s like Logan’s realizing the current situation— you, a whimpering mess and rubbing your cunt along his lap as your spit soaked lips mesh with his own in a delicious, salacious embrace. You, who he knows he can’t afford to lose, and if he continues touching you, you’ll fade away like everything else good in his life.

He pushes your face back, but makes no move to remove your weight from his body. A frown settles over your blissed out features, dread replacing the butterflies fluttering about inside you.

“Logan?”

“You don’t want this.” He’s refusing to look at you, his hazel eyes blown out with pleasure wondering around the interior of the limousine as if he hasn’t seen it before, despite owning the vehicle.

“I do. I want this. I want you.” You cradle his bearded face in your hands, thumbs caressing the prickly grays scattered across his cheeks. “I do.”

“No, baby. You don’t, you deserve so much better—“

His words are lost in the air as you connect your swollen lips with his. You bully your tongue inside, swiping along his, sighing when his hips buck up at your boldness. The action has his cock rutting your covered clit in such an angle that you could probably come.

“Can’t you feel how badly I want you?” You whisper, peppering sweet kisses along his cheeks, nose, eyelids. Staring into his eyes, so muddled with conflict and something sweeter, you kiss him properly.

“Shit,” he groans into your mouth, tongues dancing in a pace that has you dizzy, whimpering for mouth as your lace covered mound ruts at his thigh. “Can’t, baby. You deserve someone better, not some old fucking man who’s done more harm than good.”

“I don’t need better, I need you.” You emphasize the point by grabbing his hand and shoving them down your panties.

A symphony of your shared moans ricochets through the small space; you, at the feel of his rough, thick fingers finally touching your slit. Logan because the feel of your sweet, sweet arousal soaking your cunt slippery has him losing it.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to find any excuse as to why he should push you away when kissing you, touching you feels this fucking good. Even as his brain works, his fingers tease your fluttering hole and collect your wetness, dragging it to your clit.

“See? I need you, please. Logan, please.”

You stare up at him, eyes wide with so many things that cause his heart to pump faster and his cock to jerk.

He seals his fate then and there— Logan’s sick and tired of all the bad in his life, and he doesn’t know much, but what he does know is that you make him feel like he can breathe again, like he’s fated for something other than drowning in whiskey. And he’s sick of denying himself of you.

“Fuck it.” He mutters, eyes on your lips before melting into you, lips meshing together wetly.

Your moan is loud and sweet, hands leaving his face in favor of gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the crisp white of the fabric there.

He pulls back, ignoring the need washing over him at the mewl falling from you at the sudden removal of him.

“Shh, baby.” He soothes, a large hand finding purchase on your chin, his fingers teasing your lips and rubbing the saliva there. “Open up.”

The quickness at which you obey him makes him want to fuck you full of his cock then, but he just barely restrains. Your lips are parted, tongue peaking out and waiting— the picture you paint will be a reoccurring dream.

Logan leans over you before spitting onto your tongue, watching as the saliva glistens on your mouth. You gasp, the act so incredibly dirty and carnal that you shiver in his lap.

“Swallow.” He commands, squeezing your cheeks together, nearly getting lost in the dazed, euphoric look in your eyes. And you do, because you’d do anything Logan asked. ”Atta girl.”

A sob nearly escapes you at that, because fuck, you’re so turned on beyond belief and you’re sure you’ll burst into tears if Logan doesn’t fuck you soon.

Almost like he can read your mind, he moves you around until your back hits the cool, chilly leather of the seat. He settles himself on the floor of the limousine before you, ignoring the aches he feels stinging his lower back.

Logan runs his hands along your legs slowly, teasingly as he presses a kiss on your upper thigh.

“Been dreaming of this pussy for so long.” He starts, leaning until your mound is warm with his breath. You’re trembling, suspense sizzling hot in your stomach as you wait for him to do something. “Everytime you get in the car, I can smell you. And everytime, I want to fucking eat you out.”

“Logan, please.”

And seeing you, someone who’s so unabashedly beautiful and talkative be reduced to a withering mess, has a grin threatening to grace his face.

“I got you, baby. Gonna take care of you.”

And he does.

Logan presses a soft, barely there kiss to your lace covered slit before licking a slow, warm path from your hole to your aching clit.

“Oh my god!” You cry out, thighs trying and failing to clench closed as Logan’s hands keep them spread open. He groans at your taste, the little hint of something addictive, so entirely you.

He grabs each thigh and wraps them around his neck before pulling the sodden material aside with his thumb to finally expose your pussy to him.

And at the sight of your cunt glistening with slick, with unsuppressed desire, makes him fucking lose it.

“She’s so wet, fucking dripping everywhere,” groans, and it takes your muddled brain a second before realizing he’s talking about your pussy.

A moan falls from you, deep from your chest and full of need and hunger as Logan’s tongue swirls over your slit, dipping into your dripping hole. He’s messy with it, completely driven by a primal urge to completely devour you in the most intimate sense. His movements are rash, his appetite stronger than anything else.

Logan leans back a bit, eyes flickering to yours to ensure you’re focused on him before he spits directly onto your pussy.

A gasp sounds, your chest heaving at the warmth of his saliva coating your center, and it’s so dirty, so insanely hot that more slick seeps from you.

Logan leans back, ignoring your whine as he uses his thumbs to spread your pussy wide open, your sex bare to him. Its obscene, the way he stares at the mixture of saliva and slick glistening your slit. It’s hot, your cunt crying for him and clenching around nothing as your hips try to buck at his mouth.

Logan laps it all up, tongue flat as he greedily eats you out. And you’re losing it— not only is his tongue fucking you, going as deep as he can, but Logan’s nose is bumping against your clit with each thrust of his mouth. Warmth swarms in your stomach, your thighs shake with a promise of an orgasm in the distance.

“Feels so good!” You manage, your hips thrusting up into his face.

You were right, the beard feels fucking amazing rubbing mean and unforgiving against the sensitive skin of your thighs.

“Tastes so good, the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” Logan moans, switching his tongue with two fingers. His cock hardens even more with the way your cunt swallows his fingers right away, your warm, velvet walls squeezing around them.

That familiar burn swelters in your pelvis, pure heat sizzling through your veins and for a moment, you forget to breathe. It gets worse when Logan suddenly wraps his swollen lips around your tender clit and sucks.

The pleasure of it all is so sudden that it smothers you entirely— your back arching off the leather, your pussy convulsing as Logan’s fingers and tongue work you to an orgasm quicker than you ever have before.

“Logan, oh, please!” You pant, hands tugging the graying tufts of hair, and you’re unsure if you’re trying to push him impossibly closer and away at the same time.

He only releases his suction on your clit when tears prickle your eyes, when you shake on his fingers from the stimulation of it all. He gently places kisses along your sweaty thigh, hands stroking your calves as you struggle to breathe.

“That’s it, honey. I got you.”

“Come here,” is all you have the strength to muster, needing his lips on yours instead of your trembling thighs.

Logan obliges, because if you asked him to get you the moon, he’d do his damn hardest to get it.

“Hi,” you whisper once he’s level with you, body slotted between your limp one. Your arms move without your knowledge and wrap around his nape.

“Hi, baby.”

It’s then you see how insane he looks— his chin, lips, and the tip of his nose is soaked with you. His eyes are wild, hazy with need and his hair is arrayed from wandering fingers. He looks so incredibly handsome right now, in your arms, covered in you that you can’t be blamed for the little moan that escapes.

You tug him close, lips locking in a newly familiar kiss. The taste of you envelopes over your tongue as you lick along his mouth, a satisfied hum vibrating from your lips to his.

What starts as a sweet, lazy kiss turns heated quickly, and though you’ve just come, your sex aches to be filled. Its a mess of tongues and saliva, teeth clashing as your lips interlock and wrap around one another.

Your hands begin to unbutton his shirt, marveling at the feel of muscle that’s revealed with each pop of a button. You shrug the fabric off and grab at his shoulders, nails digging into the skin and trailing down to the middle of his back.

“Fuck!” Logan groans, biting your bottom lip as you scratch at him.

Instead of responding, you push at his chest until he falls into the seat opposite of yours before throwing yourself in his lap again. You’re crazed, an unsatisfied hunger clinging to every inch of you and threatening to overtake your senses.

“Such a fuckin’ brat.” He’s taunting you, but with the way his dick jolts as you yank your dress off, you know you’ve got him right where you want him.

You gaze at him, guiding his hands from your hips to your chest, urging him to take off your bra.

Logan’s too impatient to actually remove the fabric though, because he simply pulls at the cups until they give way to the pressure and your breasts are on display.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” He groans, leaning down and taking a pebbled nipple between his lips. You whine as he suckles, his fingers rubbing and pulling your other nipple. He switches his attention to your other nipple and desire pools in your stomach, heat tingles across your skin, and you can’t wait any longer.

With quick hands, you work to undo his buckle before yanking down his boxers and dress pants in one motion. Logan’s released your chest in favor of watching you nearly drool at his cock.

He’s huge. The tip is flushed, red and swollen and dripping pearly bubbles. His shaft is thick with veins leading down to a patch of short, curled hair. Even in the dim light of the limousine, you note how the vein on his lower stomach connects to the ones decorating his cock. Fuck, you suddenly want to feel the heaviness of him on your tongue. You’d ignore your own needs to choke on the entirety of him. You crave his taste, his come, and—

“Next time, baby.” Logan startles you from your filthy thoughts, and you actually whine at his words. “As much as I’d like to fuck your pretty mouth, I need to be inside you.”

And despite the fact that the man has eaten you out and stolen an orgasm tonight, you flush with warmth.

Logan finds you amusing, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock and yanking you until your hole is kissing his tip. Your hips move forward, and a whole body shiver wracks through you when your clit brushes his shaft.

“C’mon, princess. Show me how bad you want it.” He emphasizes his taunt with a squeeze of your waist, his lips brushing yours. “Not so cocky now, huh?”

Oh, you’re gonna make sure he’s as desperate as you are.

With a glare, you push his hand away and wrap yours around his cock, guiding it to your wet, slick hole. Logan merely raises an eyebrow as your other hand grips his shoulder to lift yourself up enough. Without warning, you sink down onto the the tip of him, nails digging into his shoulder at the overwhelming feeling bubbling over you.

“Fuck,” Logan growls, head leaning forward onto your shoulder as you squeeze around him purposefully, cunt sucking him down bit by bit as you lower yourself, only stopping when he fills you to the brim.

“Not so cocky now, huh?” You huff, a grin on your flushed face as you repeat his previous words back at him.

Logan doesn’t respond, to focused on not coming immediately— you’re so fucking tight, so wet and warm that he’s struggling.

The stretch is painful, but not unpleasant as you adjust to his size. When the burn fades away and instead comes a delicious thrum, you unleash.

You lift your hips up, enticing a broken moan from Logan as you move up and slam back down in slow, articulated motions.

“Feel so good, baby. So good.”

“Yeah?” You say, hands creeping into his hair to pull each time his tip brushes that spot inside you.

“Yeah.” The kiss he presses to your cheek makes your heart flutter, an act so pure in the midst it all.

You continue your torturous pace, pride warming your chest when Logan’s hands tighten on your hips, urging you to go faster.

You could go faster, but you like the way Logan looks like he’s struggling to sunk in oxygen each time his cock fills your cunt.

You catch his mouth in an open, wet kiss. He grunts, and before you can even think, Logan moves his hips upwards and you fucking whine.

Suddenly, Logan’s stripped you of control and thrusts his cock deep inside you in quick, harsh movements. You’re fucking dripping, desire slicking your thighs and Logan’s. He feels so good and he’s so deep and he’s holding you in place so you have no choice but to take it, take the assaulting pace he’s set.

“Shit,” Logan grits out, arms tightly wrapped around your midsection as he fucks you from below. “Such a mess, aren’t you?”

You’re so overcome with euphoria, so deeply gone in the waves of pleasure, that you can only nod. Each time he’s fucks up into you, his pubic bone brushes your puffy, throbbing clit in a delicious graze that has tears gathering at your lash line.

“This is what you wanted? For me to fuck you dumb?” He mutters between clenched teeth, his hips moving in a deadly way now. “You wanted to be fucking full of me, huh?”

“Yes!” You mewl, mouth falling onto his as your tongues messily swirl around, moans and groans mixing with the wet kisses.

The pressure building in your abdomen is almost too much, teasing you each time his cock slams inside. Despite being as close as physically possible, you ache to be closer.

You stop Logan, lifting yourself off him with a hiss. The sudden absence of him leaves you feeling uncomfortably empty and unconsciously, your hole clenches as wetness drips from you and onto the leather seats.

“What’s wro—“ you cut him off by pushing him until he’s laying back on the long seat. Once he’s settled down, with sweat glistening his chest, you climb shakily back onto his lap.

Sighs of relief echo through the air as your cunt sucks him down and a filthy squelch sounds. With him like this, he’s somehow deeper. You’re so incredibly full and it feels incredible.

The tingling, sweltering sensation in your cunt has you grinding across his lap, the base of his cock rubbing your clit delicately.

“Fuck. Doin so good for me.” Logan bends an arm behind his head so he can watch the way your eyes roll back with each grind, the way your tits jostle with each thrust and hump. “That’s it, baby.”

His praise has you finding a delicious, intoxicating rhythm as you lift up and down, up and down. The ridges and veins of his shaft kiss your walls and your thighs tremble with the feeling. Your hands reach back and grip your asscheeks to pull them apart further, needing his cock to go even deeper.

Logan is enamored by the sight before him— his pretty girl desperately splitting her cunt onto his cock, eyes rolling back with spit-slicked lips resembling an ‘o’.

His hand wraps around your throat tightly, pulling you down until your chest is flush against his. The action has you clumsy, arms swinging out to grip whatever is nearest to steady yourself. He places both hands across your ass and lifts you like you weigh nothing, mimicking your previous thrusts with more force, more speed.

A harmony of ‘uh, uh’s’ filter in his ears as Logan uses you and fucks you down onto his cock. You’re a whining mess, latching onto him tightly as his hips start to thrust upwards as his hands slam your hips back down in tandem.

He wishes that he had his phone close because seeing you like this is a picture he wants to capture forever.

“C’mon, baby. Can feel how close you are.” He grits out between thrusts. One hand leaves your ass to cradle your slackened jaw, gripping tight enough as he forces your eyes on his.

Logan pushes his thumb past your lips and a deep moan falls from him when you suck at him immediately. With your gaze never leaving his, you mimic a blowjob as you suck and swirl your tongue along his thumb.

“Mine.” Logan grunts, his digit pressing down onto your tongue. He feels a sick sense of pleasure envelope him as you gag at the pressure, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “My fuckin’ girl.”

You nod instantly, a sweet, gooey feeling spreading across your chest at his words, his voice. You pathetically grind down as Logan fucks upward, spit glistening your lips and his thumb as you messily suck on him.

An overbearing urge to get you to climax surges within him, and he sighs mockingly when you moan as his thumb slips from the confines of your pretty mouth. With a new vigor, Logan fucks you harder, faster, dirtier. He slips a hand between your sweaty bodies and when his fingers swirl over your clit, you explode.

The roughness of his hips, the precision of his fingertips on your clit, and the intensity of the moment catches up with you and you’re coming abruptly. It’s intense, the way a maddening bliss coats your entire body and soul. It leaves you breathless and dizzy as your eyes prickle with spots along your vision.

You’re moaning, words unintelligible against the warmth of Logan’s chest, and your cunt squeezes around him in sharp, sporadic pulses.

Logan’s so close to losing it and you don’t even realize, too busy trying to inhale oxygen into greedy lungs. Huffs tumble from you, but instead of really trying to breathe, you lift your face to pepper wet, open mouthed kisses across his torso and that does it for him.

“Fuck…” Logan moans, gutteral and rough as he slams your hips down onto his cock, his cock painting your walls with come as euphoria encompasses him entirely. “Fuck, baby.”

Your body feels like it’s on fire— clit throbbing with overstimulation as Logan’s cock continues to fill you to the brim with his orgasm. Tears of pleasure have spilled over the apples of your cheeks, the your hair sticking to your sweaty, flushed face.

You continue to gently kiss up his chest and neck before you move to cradle Logan’s face. Eyes fill with astonishment as you take in the way his eyes roll with the aftershocks of his peak. Thumbing at his cheeks, you kiss his lips gently before pressing kisses all along his face. His cheeks, the slope of his nose, his chin, forehead, and even the furrow of his brows.

You don’t even notice Logan staring at you with complete adoration until he removes your hand to kiss your palm.

You smile at him, bashful even with his softening cock is still inside you, stuffing you full of his come.

“C’mere.” He says, pulling you close until your lips melt over one another’s in a sweet, passionate kiss.

With a sudden thought, you pull away and fix him with a stern stare. Unfortunately for you, the furrow of your brows and purse of your lips only causes his heart to beat faster beneath the adamantium ribcage. You just look so pretty right now, sitting atop of him breathless and sweaty, a glaze settled over your irises.

“What's that face for?” His brow is raised and a smile is teasing his swollen lips.

“No more pushing me away, Logan.”

His gaze softens then, reminded of his self sabotage and the way he’s been adamant in keeping you at arms length, despite his yearn for more, his need for you.

“No more pushing you away, baby.” His lips meet yours softly, finality in his tone that eases your worries and wandering thoughts.

You lay your head down in the crook of his neck and hug him, intent to never let him go. Logan’s heart clenches with an emotion he’s not quite yet ready to face, so he presses a kiss to your hairline as his fingers stroke your back.

The atmosphere is no longer tense, but rather peaceful— every single desire has been satiated to the point calmness emerges. Eventually, he knows he’ll have to pull away from you and actually drive you home (and he will be coming inside, he can’t wait to properly fuck you in your bed), but he wants to stay in your embrace a little longer. It’s a blissful moment, and the serenity of it is something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Logan?” You whisper, sleepy as you rub your nose along his neck.

“Yeah, honey.”

“I didn’t give that guy my number.”

And when you say it with a slightly guilty tone, a laugh rumbles deep from his chest. He doesn’t care, because that little white lie led him to finally say ‘fuck it’ and claim you.

The feeling you erupt in his chest is foreign and it scares him shitless— but with the weight of you in his arms, he knows he’ll do anything to keep you.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlet smut #xmen movies #xmen logan #logan wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine xmen #deadpool and wolverine

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maskedbyghost · 3 months ago

Text

Recovery

Summary: When Simon Riley is injured in combat and left temporarily paralyzed, his world is turned upside down. Forced to take time away from Task Force, he struggles with the loss of his independence and his own demons. His live-in nurse, hired to help him through his recovery, quickly becomes a point of frustration and comfort. Will Simon let himself heal not just physically, but emotionally—and open his heart to the one person determined to stay by his side? A big thank you to @daydreamerwoah for this idea <3 TW: Contains themes of physical injury, emotional distress, and recovery, as well as potentially explicit content. Reader discretion is advised. Word count: 3.5 k

The first thing Simon felt when he woke up was nothing.

A deep, awful nothing stretching from the waist down. A void that seemed to scream louder than any pain. He couldn’t lift his legs. Couldn’t feel them beneath the scratchy hospital sheets.

His throat was dry as sand when he tried to speak, and his hand instinctively went to tug the oxygen mask off. It didn’t take long for the rustle of movement beside him to sound—a chair scraping the floor, boots tapping forward. Familiar boots.

“Don’t do that, mate.”

John’s voice reached him before his blurred vision cleared. When it did, Simon wished it hadn’t.

Price sat at his bedside in that worn field jacket, arms folded, concern etched into every hard line of his face. It was worse, somehow, seeing the worry in a man who always had a plan, who never cracked when the odds were against them. Soap and Gaz hovered by the foot of the bed, not looking at Simon.

“Where…” Simon’s voice rought, catching in his throat. He managed one more word. “How?”

He meant the mission. The fire. The explosion—the light that cut across his vision before black. He remembered dragging Soap to cover while fire broke like thunder. After that... there was nothing.

“Doesn’t matter.” Price shook his head. “Mission got done. You’re here, and that’s the bloody miracle.”

Simon’s gaze cut toward his legs—or where his legs were supposed to be, covered now with too-crisp white sheets. He wiggled his fingers, feeling them clench around the fabric, rough against his palms. The hope flickered for only a second before it hollowed out completely.

He couldn’t feel his legs.

“Don’t pull that stoic shite right now,” Soap muttered suddenly. Gaz gave him a warning glance, but the words were already out there.

Simon stayed silent.

Pathetic.

The word stuck to his ribs like rust. The Ghost himself—useless. For a while, no one said anything. They couldn’t. What the hell was there to say?

By the time Price spoke up again, Simon had memorized every whir of the IV drip and every beep of the monitor at his bedside.

“Simon, listen to me.” Price straightened in his chair. “Doctors say the paralysis might be temporary. Not permanent. It’s the spinal cord—they think with physical therapy, you’ve got a chance.”

“A chance,” Simon echoed. He shifted the blanket over his lap, arms tense at his sides.

“Time and effort, that’s all,” Price replied. “We’re gonna get you back to yourself, alright?”

Simon wanted to scoff, to point out how that chair practically laughed at him from across the room. Back to himself? It sounded like a joke. The Ghost doesn’t limp into a mission—he damn well doesn’t roll.

Soap, who hadn’t spoken since earlier, scratched awkwardly at his buzzed scalp and managed a small grin. “We’ll chip in, mate. You’ll get tired of us pushin’ you around. Gaz already called dibs on who gets to drop you off curbs.”

Gaz sighed in irritation, shaking his head. “Jesus, Soap.”

And for a moment, Simon wanted to laugh. He didn’t, of course, but the heaviness settled just enough for him to reach for the water glass that had been set by the bed. Price moved faster, though, nudging Simon’s shaky arm out of the way before handing him the glass himself.

It pissed him off more than he could admit.

“Enough,” Simon muttered. He took one swig of water before practically shoving it back at Price. “Go.”

Price frowned. “Simon—”

“I’m fine.” Simon cut him off flatly, voice sharp. “Don’t you lot have a mission to fuck off to?”

There it was—thinly veiled venom that couldn’t hide what was really festering beneath it: shame, isolation. 141 still had their legs under them, the freedom to walk away without that mocking squeak of metal.

The silence dragged until Price finally stood. He stared hard at Simon like he wanted to argue but knew better. Simon was still Simon, and orders wouldn’t change how he felt.

“We’ll be back,” Price said as he tugged on his cap. “Behave.”

Soap hesitated before walking off, his hand landing briefly on Simon’s shoulder as he passed. Simon didn’t move. Gaz offered one more lingering look from the doorway before he shut it behind him.

Hours passed. Or minutes. Maybe days.

The doctors tried to explain his recovery timeline when they checked in, though Simon absorbed none of it. Words like spinal impact, therapy, and patience didn’t mean a damn thing when you had to stare at your own traitorous legs refusing to move.

By the time you, his nurse, arrived, Simon already had a bitter response loaded on his tongue.

“No.”

You raised an unimpressed brow at him, clipboard in hand.

“You don’t get to fire me,” you said, ticking something off the chart. “Captain Price hired me himself.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“And yet here I am.” You tucked the clipboard under your arm, looking down at him like he wasn’t the intimidating Ghost that made entire platoons piss themselves. It was jarring—annoyingly so.

“Let me make something very clear.” Simon glared at you, before continuing. “I don’t need a fucking nurse.”

You stared him down like it wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with a man who thought himself stronger than he was. “That’s the pride talking.”

The conversation ended on that note—his glare, your silence.

Alone again, Simon sank lower into the bed, feeling rage crawl under his skin. No legs, no control. And now a bloody nurse babysitting him?

It wouldn’t last, he told himself. Nothing did.

But he had no idea then, not even a clue, that you would be the person who stayed.

Simon Riley hated you.

Well, not you, exactly. It wasn’t personal—not in the beginning. It was the idea of you that grated on him like nails against glass. The nurse—his nurse—represented everything he despised. His weakness. His uselessness. His loss of control.

You refused to let him sit in silence, stubborn enough to ignore the heat of his glares when you’d sweep into the room each morning, clipboard in hand and professional cheer etched onto your features.

“Morning, Riley,” you would greet him each time, and he swore you got some twisted pleasure out of pretending he wasn’t already scowling at you.

“Fuck off.” Was his only reply.

“I’ll write that on your chart—improving vocabulary.”

You always said something. Whether it was to push back, joke, or break up the air in the room.

Simon wouldn’t let you win, though—not at first. The harder you pushed, the colder he became. You tried to lift him out of bed? He did his best impression of a statue. You set up basic stretching exercises? He would be sarcastic until you folded your arms with the patience of a goddamn saint and calmly reminded him the exercises weren’t optional.

You gave him no ground. No pity. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to strangle you, or on his worst days thank you.

One day, it had been a bad morning. Worse than usual.

Simon’s exercises were taking longer to yield even the smallest progress. He was so frustrated that he could hardly breathe. The phantom weight of his legs, his inability to move without someone’s damn help—it made his teeth grind and fists clench to the point of white knuckles.

You were there again, patient in the small room they’d converted into a temporary rehab area—white walls, artificial light, and the scent of disinfectant.

“You need to lift, Simon,” you said, standing in front of his wheelchair with your hands on your hips. “You’re improving. You just need to—”

“I need fuck all.” His voice was sharp. “Jesus Christ, you deaf? You’re wasting your time.”

You froze, eyes narrowing at him with something dangerously close to disappointment.

“You’re angry,” you replied, your voice calm. “But this doesn’t go away just because you ignore it, Simon.”

He laughed bitterly.

“Oh, spare me the motivational speech, sweetheart. What? You think a few stretches and cheerleading will get me crawling back onto a mission? Gonna teach me how to live happily ever after in this fucking chair?” He hissed the word—chair—like it poisoned his mouth.

His fists ground into the arms of the wheelchair.

Something flickered in your eyes. Before he could toss another bite of venom your way, you closed the distance between you and dropped to your knees—eye level now, your faces inches apart.

Simon didn’t move. Didn’t flinch, but he stared.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like I pity you.” Your voice was low. “You think I haven’t seen men like you before? Men who think anger makes the world listen?”

Simon’s jaw ticked, his breathing slow.

“You think this doesn’t scare me?” you pressed on, your gaze burning straight through him. “The weight of what I’m asking? Pushing you past what your body wants? I’m terrified every day I’ll say the wrong thing and make you stop.”

The air in the room shifted. Stopped.

Simon froze—just for a second. It wasn’t the words, exactly, but the fear beneath them. This wasn’t pity. It wasn’t shallow encouragement either. There was something real tangled up in what you’d said.

He didn’t answer you—not because he couldn’t think of one, but because no words would fit. Instead, he dropped his gaze and pressed his palms hard into the chair's wheels, turning himself away.

“Enough.” His voice was low.

You sighed but didn’t press him further. That was the first day you called a truce.

Simon didn’t realize when the fights had stopped.

The nurse—your name slipped out eventually, though he’d never say it aloud—was still there, day after day. The arguing faded into tense silences, which somehow became your routine. Sometimes, when you helped him maneuver into his chair or reposition his legs, your fingers would brush against him. Just a second of touch. A heat curled behind his ribs before he shoved it down where he buried everything else.

He hated needing your help.

But, God forgive him, it didn’t feel as awful as before.

One afternoon, after yet another stretching session, you sat on the floor next to his chair, clipboard abandoned beside you. Your head tilted back against the wall, and with a faint exhale, you rubbed at your neck.

“You don’t seem tired,” he muttered.

The words slipped out before he could stop them. You lifted a brow, looking up at him curiously.

“What?”

“You act like all this doesn’t wear you down,” he replied, gesturing vaguely toward his legs. Maybe it was the post-exercise exhaustion. Or maybe it was the quiet between them now that wasn’t quite as miserable as it had been weeks ago.

“I signed up for this, Simon.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

Silence again. When you glanced up at him fully, your smile wasn’t mocking or cocky this time.

“No. But it’s worth it.”

Simon didn’t let himself think about why those words echoed behind his ribs long after you left that night.

Their fights weren’t completely gone, of course. You would snap at one another like wolves when frustrations rose too high.

But one evening, when you helped him shift in his seat after his legs had been deadweight for hours, Simon froze. Just a second. Just long enough to feel your hands at his waist—steady and strong against his scarred skin—and notice.

The way you exhaled softly when you moved him. The way you looked straight at him when he stiffened—your eyes determined, never breaking like others did.

“There. Comfortable?”

He should’ve muttered a sharp, one-word reply. Instead, his voice came quieter than he meant:

“Yeah.”

In that tiny sliver of peace after the long-fought battles between you, Simon realized something strange. He still hated your presence in his life, hated needing you… but not in the way he used to.

And it terrified him worse than any battlefield he’d ever faced.

You noticed the change in Simon the moment the doors of the small house closed behind you. He might’ve been the same person—quiet, short-tempered—but here, outside the clinical walls of the rehab facility, something felt different.

This was his space. A glimpse into the life he'd kept carefully walled off from everyone.

Simon had needed help transitioning from the hospital, and somehow you were the one still here. What was meant to be a few nights stretched into weeks, your things tucked into a guest bedroom that was clean but cold, untouched like the rest of the house.

He didn’t stop you from unpacking or making meals or gently steering him through his day. But he didn’t make it easy either.

It had been a difficult day for him. You’d noticed it early—his shoulders tighter than usual, his movements stiff. Every attempt you made to coax him into his routine was met with an edge. You gave him as much room as you could until he made it impossible to leave things be.

Simon was in the living room, positioned near the window as rain slid down the glass in slow, uneven lines. You stood behind him for a moment, hesitant to interrupt the silence. He’d barely spoken all day, but his grip on the armrests of his wheelchair told you everything you needed to know.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked quietly, stepping into the space beside him.

He didn’t turn to look at you. “What’s there to talk about?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t owe you one.” His voice was sharp.

“Maybe not,” you said evenly, “but you’re miserable. It’s not helping either of us to ignore it.”

His shoulders stiffened, and his hands tightened on the armrests even more. He let out a long, rough exhale, tilting his head back against the chair.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” His tone wasn’t angry this time; it was hollow. “Every day, it’s the same. Same exercises. Same useless questions. Same people pretending I’ve got a fucking chance.”

You frowned, pulling a chair over to sit directly across from him. “Nobody’s pretending, Simon. Least of all me.”

He laughed bitterly. “Oh, come on. What, you think if you cheer me on enough, I’ll forget I can’t even move my own fucking legs?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” you said calmly. “But it’d help if you stopped biting my head off long enough to actually make some progress.”

His gaze finally snapped to yours, full of frustration. “Progress? This is it. Sitting in this bloody chair, waiting for it to magically fix itself while the rest of my life just... stops.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” You leaned forward, forcing him to hold your gaze. “It hasn’t stopped. It’s slowed, sure—but you’re the one keeping it from moving forward.”

He scoffed. “You don’t get it.”

“You’re right. I don’t,” you said. “But I’m here anyway. I’m not going anywhere, no matter how much you bark and growl.”

Simon blinked at you, clearly taken off guard by the bluntness in your tone. He sat back slightly, running a hand over his face. “Why do you care so much?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked, surprised by the question.

His jaw clenched, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “Because everyone else moved on. Left me behind. Doesn’t make sense why you haven’t done the same.”

“Because I’m not them,” you replied simply. “Because you don’t deserve to be left alone to rot in here like you keep convincing yourself you do.”

Simon didn’t answer right away. His expression was hard to read. Finally, he shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“You’re stubborn, you know that?”

You smiled faintly, relieved to see even the smallest crack in his armor. “And you’re a pain in the ass.”

That earned the barest hint of a chuckle from him, the sound low and rough but genuine. For the first time in weeks, it felt like neither of you were losing the fight.

It had been raining all day, and Simon was in his chair by the living room window again, staring out at nothing. His mood had been more tolerable after your conversation, but this—this next part—was bound to ruin that truce.

“We need to take care of your shower,” you said, keeping your voice as neutral as possible.

Simon shifted slightly, still gazing outside. “I can skip it.”

“Skipping it isn’t an option,” you replied, standing firm. You expected maybe another excuse, but he just sighed and pushed his chair backward with a sharp shove of his hands on the wheels.

He didn’t say a word as you guided him toward the bathroom, he hated needing help like this; he didn’t even bother hiding that fact. You tried not to think too hard about it, about how deeply it hurt his pride to rely on someone for this level of care.

Inside, the bathroom was small but practical. You had already set up the necessary equipment: a shower bench, towels folded neatly on the counter, and grab bars mounted on the tiles. But it didn’t change what was about to happen.

“You’ll need to take off your clothes,” you said, looking anywhere but at him.

Simon turned his head slightly toward you. “Figured that much out myself.”

You bit back the response sitting on your tongue. “I’ll help steady you once you’re ready,” you added instead, keeping the professionalism intact.

The rasp of his movements filled the room as he worked on shrugging out of his hoodie. When it got caught around his shoulders, you reached instinctively to help, freezing when he flinched.

“I’ve got it,” he muttered.

It was a slow process, his injury making even small tasks difficult. You busied yourself with adjusting the water temperature, but there was no way to avoid noticing when he finally managed to pull his hoodie and shirt off. His broad chest, riddled with scars and tattoos, caught your gaze for a second longer than it should have. You forced yourself to look away, biting down on the edge of your lower lip as your face heated.

Get a grip, you scolded yourself silently.

“Problem?” His voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“No,” you said too quickly, busying yourself with handing him a towel to place over his lap before helping him move.

Simon caught the hesitation in your movement and raised a brow, his face shifting to faint amusement. “Haven’t you done this before?”

You refused to take the bait, stepping behind him to help support his transfer to the bench. “With far more cooperative patients, yes.”

He didn’t make a comment after that, leaning on you just enough to get himself in place. His skin was warm against yours where your hands pressed to steady him, and you found yourself hyperaware of every subtle flex of muscle beneath your touch.

Once he was settled, you adjusted the showerhead and stepped back, taking a moment to breathe while he wet his hair. But of course, the towel across his lap was already damp and clinging to the sharp angles of his thighs.

Stop. Thinking. About. It.

Simon was oddly quiet, letting you rinse shampoo from his hair without protest. His usual scowl was softened by the heat of the shower, and for the first time since you’d met him, he seemed... at peace. His breathing slowed, the lines in his face easing as your hands worked through his hair.

When you reached to adjust the handheld showerhead, your elbow brushed his shoulder, and you swore you felt him stiffen just slightly. You froze, heart pounding, and quickly stepped back, pretending nothing happened.

Simon’s eyes opened then, and he looked at you for a long moment before saying anything. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Your lips twitched into the faintest smile. “Just trying to avoid you biting my head off later.”

His smirked. “You’re doing alright, nurse.”

The unexpected softness in his voice caught you off guard. You felt heat creeping up your neck and busied yourself again with rinsing his arms and chest. But the light in his eyes lingered, and you caught the faintest glimmer of... something.

Interest.

You couldn’t stay here too long—near his warmth, his edges softening just enough to draw you in. This wasn’t supposed to feel intimate, wasn’t supposed to make your chest tighten. But there you were, brushing damp hair out of his eyes, your fingertips lingering just a second too long before stepping back.

“All done,” you said quickly, grabbing a dry towel from the counter.

Simon let out a low breath and nodded, tilting his head back slightly. “Thanks,” he muttered.

You helped him move again, the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric of your shirt as he leaned on you. It wasn’t until you left him to dry off that you let yourself exhale fully, feeling the rapid thrum of your heart settle into something steadier.

You might’ve been the one helping him, but there were moments like these where it felt like Simon had all the control.

PART 2

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

There will be one more part to this story, so watch out for that :)

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic @identity2212 @tessakate

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #cod simon riley #cod #cod mw2

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago

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hi i see that you have much smart dog experience. i may have accidentally purchased such a dog. she's only 10 weeks, and ive had her 1, and she's already outmatched every puzzle feeder i got or have made. to the point that she is morosely disappointed when her food comes in an actual food bowl. do you know where i can find like. "heres 100 enrichment toys you can make out of free trash so your dog stops eating fucking rocks for enrichment" lists. i only have so many paper towel tubes XD

Herschel now just disassembles puzzle feeders, so I've been focusing on "Toys that, even if he already knows how to operate them, will still take TIME for him to collect the treat from" to give him something to fuss with.

Herschel eats all his meals out of a Kong Wobbler, because he will otherwise eat so fast he will literally inhale and choke on his kibble and I do not need him developing pneumonia from aspiration. Even though it's a "Simple" toy it slows him down and he does have to think a bit to tip it in the most efficient manner possible. Kong's "Flipz", "Gyro" and "Rewards Wally" are also really good "dog needs to think/carefully manipulate the toy for food" toys that act as both mental stimulation and exercise and "give human a break for up to twelve minutes" toys.

I highly reccomend KONG as a brand- they're local to Denver and have an impeccable saftey record and all of the toys I have gotten from them have held up extremely well vs. the ravages of three entirely too smart and strong-jawed dogs at once.

Some more thoughts:

If she's not prone to shredding rubber, the kind of treat toys she has to chew are also good stimulation.

If you don't want to give her That Many treats, my vet said that dogs can have as many green beans as they want. Just make sure that the beans haven't had salt added to them- canned usually does, but frozen green beans usually don't, but always check the label.

You can make nearly any toy last longer, or make a cheap long-puzzle by freezing the treats so they take longer to eat AND provides hydration. Herschel's most favorite treat of all time is literally a wad of sliced green beans in a dixie cup, filled with water and frozen. Just peel off the cup and hand him the chunk of ice and he's good for up to half an hour and more chill afterwards.

You can also freeze lick mats

If your girl is like Charlie and doesn't like greenbeans, you can also try freezing paper cups of: Canned pumpkin, apple slices in water, putting some ice cubes in the bottom of the cup, a gob of peanut butter in the middle and then fill it with water to make a peanutbutter filled ice cube.

If your girl is REALLY like charlie who has figured out how to use labor negotiation and strike tactics for better treats: boiled chicken chunks frozen in some of the water you boiled them in.

Walkies are as much mental stimulation as they are physical exercise. Take her out and let her sniff to her heart's content.

Also Puppies in particular need like, SO MUCH exercise.

Let her participate in activities with you. Herschel and charlie sit in the kitchen and I narrate cooking dinner to them, which seems to interest them, even if I don't have spare veggie ends to give them. I also frequently bring them along in the car if I'm running errands when it's cold enough to do that, so they have something new to look at, and get to participate. I also am more likely to stop at a new park and give myself some exercise and mental stimulation.

Training her to do tasks is GREAT Smart Dog enrichment- esp if she's a herding or heeler, they LOVE being helpful. I taught the dogs they get a small treat if they come in from the yard without me having to go chase them down, which saved me a lot of hassle, and now I'm working on teaching herschel to pick things up off the floor for me if I drop them and alert for chickpeas, which my housemate is allergic to.

A lot of dogs like cat-type toys. Tie a stick or some fleece to some paracord and drag or flycast it around for her to chase/play tug with when she catches it. Toys that bounce unexpectedly were also a huge hit. or just wave the string around the cat and the corgi both like that.

If you live in farm country or know other people with pets, you can grab something with the scent of another animal on it and bring it home for her to smell. Charlie and Herschel spent the better part of three days investigating the wad of horse undercoat I brought home and put in the spare wobbler for them to smell.

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hannieehaee · 11 months ago

Text

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.3k (teaser); 8.2k (full fic)

release date: april 27th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: decided to write a little surprise fic!! ive been getting into bts lately and so this was born<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

...

read today on ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one<3

NOTE: it wont let me reply to people anymore but ill be tagging everyone who comments asking to be tagged just letting u guys know<3

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frostedfragments · 6 days ago

Text

calling dr zayne! ✧.* zayne x reader ✧.* 2.2k words ✧.* only fans au summary: dr zayne stumbles across his favourite patient's onlyfans account warnings!: zayne breaks some rules!!!, masturbation, use of a sex toy, voyeurism note: couldn't help but imagine an au where zayne doesn't know you and you wind up as his patient...and breaks a couple of dr oaths lol note2: ive' never seen the of website so if the mechanics of it are innacurate pls ignore and lets stay playful together

divider cred. @enchanthings-a

There’s only so many online medical articles one can read before they need some mindless doom scrolling. It’s not often Zayne logs into his social media accounts, he much prefers to spend his small amount of free time reading or hiking, but he can’t resist catching up on what his friends and family are posting on Instagram. He doesn’t see them nearly as often as he should, and it’s the small trickle of guilt down his throat that has him scrolling on his computer, smiling when he sees a couple photos of his parents on their holiday, his co-workers on a night out he declined to join them on, and the occasional cat video.

He’s not sure how he finds it, but the explore page is such an overstimulating mess of faces and bodies that he usually avoids it completely. It’s only because his hand twitches that he even sees the post in the first place, but he looks. And continues to look.

The woman in the photo doesn’t show her face, just the long line of her neck and the soft, plumpness of her cleavage in a bra that leaves little to the imagination. He briefly wonders how a picture like this is allowed on the app, but he’s soon clicking on the profile before he can stop himself, intrigued by smooth skin and little else. He is still a man after all, and once he is exposed to the abundance of tantalising images on the woman’s profile, he is reminded how long it has been since he had his hands on a woman.

His favourite patient doesn’t count, he thinks reflexively, frowning that the thought even crept into his mind at all. You’ve been his patient for roughly six months now; you’ve had a heart condition all your life, one that is well-managed and non-life threatening, but still needs regular monitoring. Your previous heart doctor passed away, and so your case was given to Zayne.

He tries to shake the memory of your face out of his mind as he glances through the pictures, having every intention of clicking out of the woman’s profile and logging off for the evening. Maybe even taking a shower to rid his body from this sudden thrum of energy that radiates low in his stomach, but a link in the bio of the profile catches his eye. Snags his attention like a siren, luring him in with the promise of more, and he almost feels as if he’s doing something illegal when he clicks on it.

OnlyFans isn’t completely new to Zayne - there are a few colleagues he knows who watch adult content on the site, though he mistakenly always thought it was a place where fetish content lived. Feet videos, women humiliating men on camera, food play - not really his taste. But when the link has loaded, and racier images of the woman appear, Zayne feels his cock twitch, feels it begin to fill out as his eyes graze the image of the woman laying on a bed, back arched, breasts displayed beautifully in a black lace bra which leaves her pert, pink nipples completely uncovered.

God, he needs to get laid or something. He hasn’t had the time to date, or even the energy to masturbate, always exhausted from multiple surgeries in one day or typing up notes from said surgeries. His body reminds him now of the necessity to release all the pent up tension that collects in his spine, and he absentmindedly rubs his hand over the bulge in his slacks, sighing softly at the instant swell of pleasure.

His eyes dart back up to the screen, a flush warming his cheeks and the tips of his ears, but he makes an account anyway before he can stop himself, typing in his credit card information and subscribing to the woman who seems to have come out of nowhere and locked in his attention with just a few pictures of her body.

Once he has full access to the page, he scrolls through picture after picture, some more explicit than others. When he reaches the video section, he notices one posted just a few hours ago titled watch me cum while i think about him. The thumbnail shows the woman in a pale pink lingerie set, plush thighs wrapped in white, lace stockings as she sits demurely on white bed sheets. Her neck, chin and full mouth are all that is visible of her face, and Zayne’s gut tenses as he moves the mouse over, clicking play on the video.

His speakers hum with the sound of the video as the woman walks towards the bed, sitting down and smiling softly. Her lips are glossy with a balm or something, and Zayne resigns himself to his base need, slowly unbuckling his belt as the girl shuffles back on the bed slightly.

“Hi guys,” Her voice filters through the speakers, and Zayne frowns, though he can’t think what it is about the voice that makes him pause, “I just got home, and I saw my favourite doctor today. Obviously, though you’ve all been asking, I can’t say his name, but just trust me when I say he’s…so fine,”

Zayne’s hand pulls down the zipper of his slacks, licking his lips, watching closely as she trails her hands over her skin that already looks flushed with arousal. The bra barely contains her full breasts, nipples already straining against the thin fabric. He needs to see them, his hands feel empty with the need to fill his palms with their softness, and he dips into his briefs to pull out his cock, already hard and red at the tip.

The woman has barely touched herself yet, and he feels so pent up he might come before she even gets started.

Reaching over, the woman grabs what looks to be a pink sleep mask, hands disappearing out of frame before she sits back on her elbows, her full face in frame, half covered by the mask. She rolls onto her tummy as she stretches across the mattress again, the sounds of a drawer opening and closing. Her ass is almost bare, round and soft in a matching pink thong. Zayne let’s his hand stroke experimentally over his dick, exhaling shakily.

The girl is back facing the camera now, long hair fanning out over the sheets. It has Zayne pausing again, the first shiver of alarm running through his spine as he spots something on her hip. A tattoo.

The same tattoo his new patient has. But surely, it’s just a coincidence. Maybe you and this girl just have similar taste. He pauses his movements, still as stone while his brain works overtime to avoid the truth of the situation.

By now the girl, or as Zayne realises with a start, you are fully spread out on the mattress. Your legs move restlessly, like you’re so turned on you can’t stay still, and Zayne’s eyes close at the way the thought sits heavy in his groin, balls tightening as his hand squeezes the base of his dick.

He absolutely cannot do this, he cannot watch a video of a patient writhing around on their bed in nothing but their lingerie. The item you had pulled out, a sizable pink dildo, is laying by your thigh, and there is no question between that and the title about what is about to happen. But then you start speaking again, and Zayne is forced to open his eyes at the sound of your voice.

“Will you guys stay with me?” Your voice is breathier now, and you lick your lips when your hand palms a breast. Zayne’s jaw clenches, “I’ve needed to come all day since my appointment. My doctor has such big hands, it’s so fucking hot -” You gasp, fingers twisting a nipple through your bra, and Zayne’s thighs tense, a thick bead of precum dribbling down his cock at the idea that you’re about to think of him while you fuck yourself.

He must be fucking dreaming. Or maybe it’s a nightmare, given that he’s breaking every single possible rule right now by not clicking out of this video. But his dick is almost throbbing in his hand now, and he can’t rip his eyes away from the screen when your hand trails over your stomach, fingers slipping under the elastic of your thong. Your hand presses back against the mattress as you moan softly.

“I’ve been wet the whole way home,” You whine, “His voice, it’s so deep and soft. And his eyes; he watches me like he could ruin me if he wanted to. I can’t stop thinking about him,”

Zayne loses the battle against his entire brain screaming at him that this is wrong, this is a terrible idea. That he needs to stop. But he can’t, how is he supposed to stop when you’re rocking against your hand, lips parted to accommodate the ragged breaths and throaty sounds you make. He strokes himself, all the air leaving his lungs.

Your other hand reaches down to your thigh where the dildo sits, forgotten, and you smile as you hold it up to the camera, “I chose my biggest one for tonight. I want to imagine him fucking - ah - fucking me,”

“Oh, fuck,” He grits, other hand gripping the arm of his desk chair. His balls ache, and he runs his thumb over the head of his cock, watching you with half-open eyes as you shimmy out of the thong.

“How much do you want to see?” Zayne almost thinks you’re speaking directly to him, and it feels that way with the intimate hum of your voice. Maybe you are, maybe you’re imagining him doing this right now. Breaking every rule and fucking his hand while you shift on the bed, facing away from the camera and falling forward to reveal your soaked, pink pussy and the tight hole above. Zayne’s teeth nearly bite right through his lower lip when your hand reaches back, small fingers pushing right inside.

His hand speeds up, the slick sounds filling the room alongside your moans, and he wishes you were right here with him. He wishes that instead of removing your fingers and sliding the dildo through your folds, that you were here, bouncing on his cock.

You sit up slightly, looking over your shoulder as you place the dildo at your entrance. Your lips curl into a smile, “I don’t even need any lube tonight. I’m so fucking wet,”

“Yeah, you are,” Zayne murmurs to himself, half-mad with desire to see you be filled up. Even if he can’t be the one to do it, his teeth ache as he clenches his jaw, waiting for you to sink down onto that silicone, imagining it's him.

Teeth pressed into your soft lower lip, you slowly take every inch of the dildo, thighs trembling slightly, enough to make the skin of your ass ripple a bit. When you raise your hips up again, the silicone is shiny with your need, and Zayne’s mouth is watering, his fist jerking almost too fast. He doesn’t want this to be over yet, but when you start to bounce it’s too late to slow down. You’re almost moving at the same pace as his hand, and he groans, falling back into the seat so he can jerk his hips up a little, fantasising that he’s under you, that you’re taking him like a good girl would.

“Oh, god,” You whimper, the wet sounds of you fucking yourself like a melody through Zayne’s speakers, “s-so big, oh he’s so big, I know it -,”

“Shit,” Zayne digs his nails into his thigh to stop himself from coming. There’s sweat running down his chest now, and he reaches up to undo his tie, tossing it to the ground. He can barley breathe, his cock so wet it’s almost like he’s actually fucking you.

“F-fuck- I waited all day for this. Since I left his - hng - office. God, I want him to fuck me on the desk. I bet he would be so good, so rough. Oh god, please,” You’re no longer bouncing on the dildo, instead grinding your hips on it, skin dewy and flushed red, “God, I’m gonna come, oh - oh, fuck -”

Zayne is shaking, his hand almost cramping from how fast he’s dragging it along his cock. His balls give a warning throb before he flicks his eyes up to see you coming with him, your thighs twitching, hips moving jaggedly as you continue to grind down on the fake cock. He twists his wrist at the head of his length and groans loudly, closing his eyes, imagining you’re coating his dick, coming all over it. His cum stains his fingers and his white shirt, chest dropping harshly with every breath he drags in. His body feels weightless, eyes heavy, and he opens them to watch as you roll over on the bed, on your back with your legs parted, showing him and the camera the mess you’ve made.

Zayne’s cock twitches back to life at the thought of cleaning you up with his tongue.

Before he closes the video, he watches till the end. Stares at the way you slowly come back down to earth, sleepily stretching and grinning at the camera, voice hoarse, “Thank you, doctor,” you giggle, before the screen goes black, and Zayne is left to stare at his sweaty, fucked out expression in the reflection.

“Fuck,” He says.

#love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love and deespace ff #lads ff #l&ds ff #love and deepspace smut #zayne x reader #zayne x mc #zayne x you #zayne smut #zayne fanfic #zayne ff

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inkdrinkerworld · 4 months ago

Note

okay so ive literally only seen either virgin!reader and experienced!spencer or virgin!spencer and experienced!reader but never both reader and spencer being virgins and i would LOVE to see your take on it with early season (s2-3) if that's something you are interested in!

thank you so much!

Oh oh this can be very cool! Thank you for your request darling! This is the set up between our awkward loves ᡣ𐭩

It’s painfully obvious you and Spencer like each other- painfully.

But Elle has warned Derek off of giving either of you stick for it- still she notices things, she isn’t sure if you and Spencer have noticed though.

You and Spencer always eat breakfast together in the kitchenette and when Spencer pours your tea exactly like you like it, your shoulders square and you smile a little half smile.

When your hand brushes Spencer’s after sharing half your fruit, his cheeks flame and he stumbled through the rest of whatever he was saying.

She’s thought Derek had been joking when he said Spencer never gets girls, but it’s clear this is the first time for the two of you.

“Spencer, they finally had honeydew and I got the last of the crunchy nectarines and peaches.” You say as you set your bag down, Spencer folding his crossword away as he stands.

“But are they sweet? It’s not peak season for them anymore and studies show that the closer it is to the end of the fruit’s season the more tasteless it can become. You may have peaches and nectarines that are either sour or have a higher water content.”

He makes up the distance between you with three quick strides, tilting his head toward the kitchenette.

You pout as you show Spencer your bowl of already cut fruit. “Taste one and make a better assessment?”

Spencer’s cheeks heat as he takes a wedge of the peach and finds it sweet as can be and crunchy like he likes it; your eyes on him the whole time.

You stand there more than a little smug. Spencer refrains from blushing even more.

“Let’s eat,” Spencer made eggs and sausages, something about high protein breakfasts keeping you satiated and able to perform properly all day.

You brought fresh bread and the fruit.

You’re not expecting Spencer’s hand to press into the small of your back as he squeezes behind you to get to the fridge as you dish the fruit into bowls.

Your breath hitches and your body stiffens - the pressure feels good if a bit foreign.

“Sorry, I made your iced coffee.” He mumbles retrieving your cup and sitting down.

The conversation between you and Spencer flows easily, you talk about bugs, your favourite animals, you even venture into a little talk about work and how you’re working on something for your old university.

You touch Spencer’s hand as you take a sip of the coffee, your thumb going back and forth. Your eyes lock on his as you compliment him. “It’s perfect, Spence. Thank you.”

Elle is glad Derek isn’t there when Spencer goes scarlet and can’t seem to get his words out.

#spencerreid #spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid x black reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid x y/n #early season!spencer

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simplygojo · 6 months ago

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ok ive followed you for awhile and i love your writing youre so talented! if youre open to it i wanted to request something. basically my idea was like (aged up) you nobara, yuji, megumi, maki, toge are friends and you play a spicy truth or dare game... basically it ends with crushes confessing their feelings and spicy preferences/kinks and stuff. i was thinking yuji x reader or megumi x reader but anything works. i totally get if you think this is weird and dont want to do it so no worries! - anon <3

Drink, Dare, and Desire

Authors Note: I loved this request!! Thank you so much for your kind words, I really hope you like this and hope it was something along the lines of what you were looking for!

My requests are always open :)

Pairing: Adult/Megumi Fushiguro x f/reader

Word Count : 3.6K

Warnings : 18+ Content, (mild) SMUT! Alcohol Use!

The night was alive with the hum of the city just outside the dorm windows. You, along with Nobara, Yuji, Megumi, Maki, and Toge, were sprawled across the room, the remnants of a half-eaten takeout dinner and a mostly drained bottle of sake scattered between you.

It wasn’t often that you all found time to hang out like this. Between training and missions, these moments of downtime were precious—and apparently, very unpredictable.

“Alright, alright, who’s next for a drink?” Nobara chirped, swirling the sake bottle in her hand, her eyes gleaming with mischievous energy.

Yuji stretched lazily, a wide grin on his face as he glanced around. “Why stop at drinking when we could make it interesting?”

It took less than a second for Nobara to catch on. “Ooh, what are you suggesting?”

Maki, sitting back with her arms folded, raised an eyebrow but didn’t seem opposed. Meanwhile, Toge, his quiet demeanor in stark contrast to the energy around him, gave a casual shrug. It was rare to see him so relaxed, which probably had something to do with the sake flowing freely.

“Truth or dare,” Yuji declared, rubbing his hands together like he was about to unveil some grand plan.

A soft groan escaped Megumi, who had been sitting quietly beside you, a slight frown on his face as he watched the chaotic energy unfold. “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered, though you could sense a slight interest beneath his usual stoic demeanor.

You snorted, nudging him lightly. “Don’t be such a buzzkill, Fushiguro.”

He shot you a sidelong glance, his lips twitching upward for a second before settling back into his familiar expression. But even as he tried to seem unaffected, there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. Truth or dare games had a way of revealing more than they were meant to, and maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for exactly that.

Nobara wasted no time, slapping the floor in excitement. “Okay! Yuji, since it was your idea, you go first. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Yuji responded instantly, leaning back on his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Nobara’s grin widened, and you knew from that look she had something ridiculous in mind. “I dare you… to chug your drink, then kiss someone in the circle.”

The room fell into a momentary hush, all eyes darting toward Yuji as his grin faltered for just a second before he leaned forward and grabbed his drink.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he chugged the remainder of his sake, slamming the cup down with a triumphant look on his face. Without hesitation, he leaned over to Toge, planting a dramatic kiss on his cheek.

Toge raised a brow, his face impassive as always, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Salmon,” he said, giving Yuji a light shove, which only made everyone burst out laughing.

Maki shook her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Weak.”

“You’re just mad you weren’t the one kissed,” Yuji teased, wiping the corner of his mouth with a grin.

“Dream on, idiot,” Maki shot back, but the playful tension between them was undeniable.

Toge, ever the quiet observer, pointed to you next, his expression calm as he said, “Tuna mayo?”

“Truth,” you answered, deciding to take it easy for now. You could already feel a warmth spreading through you, the sake making everything seem a little hazier, a little more relaxed.

Yuji leaned forward with an eager expression. “Who do you think is the most attractive here?”

A collective groan followed the question, though there was a sense of anticipation hanging in the air. You felt the weight of their stares, especially Megumi’s, whose gaze seemed to pierce through you.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. “Megumi,” you finally said, the word tumbling out softly, almost shyly.

The room erupted in laughter and teasing remarks, but all you could focus on was the subtle way Megumi’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting away as a faint flush rose to his cheeks.

“Wow, no hesitation,” Nobara teased, nudging Megumi’s arm with her elbow. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Megumi grumbled something under his breath, but his usual stoic front was beginning to crack, a small, rare smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Alright, alright, moving on,” you said quickly, trying to divert the attention. “Nobara, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she replied instantly, crossing her arms over her chest with a look that screamed ‘challenge me.’

You bit your lip, thinking for a moment before smirking. “I dare you to tell us one of your kinks.”

Nobara’s eyes widened slightly, her confident facade faltering for just a second before she burst into laughter. “Oh, come on! Alright, fine.” She leaned back, her cheeks flushed—though whether it was from the alcohol or embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. “I like it rough—like really rough.”

The room collectively gasped before bursting into a mixture of laughter and wide-eyed stares. Yuji let out a loud “What?!” while Maki just shrugged with a look that said, Not surprised.

“That’s way too much information,” Yuji groaned, covering his face with his hands while Nobara smacked him on the back.

“What, too much for you, Yuji?” Nobara teased, clearly enjoying the moment. “Maybe I’ll dial it back next time.”

Toge snickered quietly, glancing at Yuji, whose face was flushed for an entirely different reason now.

—

The game continued, each round more daring and revealing. Maki, always calm and collected, had admitted that she preferred someone who could challenge her both physically and ‘test her limits.’

Toge, while still being mostly silent, revealed through hand gestures and a few simple words that he liked to be taken control of and bossed around—makes sense given his cursed speech ability.

Yuji, with his usual lack of filter, shared a little too much about his curiosity in trying anything—and he meant everything—at least once, leaving Nobara shaking her head and everyone else laughing.

By the time it was Megumi’s turn again, the air in the room felt charged, the stakes higher now that almost everyone had bared more than just their emotions.

Maki’s sharp gaze landed on Megumi, and you could practically see the gears turning in her mind. “Alright, Fushiguro, truth or dare?”

He looked almost bored, but you could tell he was being careful. “Dare.”

A slow, almost wicked grin spread across Maki’s face. “I dare you to kiss y/n.”

Your heart nearly stopped. The laughter and chatter from the others faded into the background as you locked eyes with Megumi. His expression didn’t change, but you noticed how his eyes darkened slightly, like he was weighing his options.

The whole room seemed to still, waiting for his next move.

Without breaking eye contact, Megumi stood up, moving toward you with a calmness that belied the tension swirling around him. Every step he took seemed deliberate, and you could feel the heat rising to your face as the distance between you closed.

He stopped right in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth of his body, the scent of his cologne mixed with the alcohol in the air. His voice was low when he spoke, meant only for your ears. “Are you okay with this?”

You could barely nod, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that started soft, almost teasing.

But when you responded, pressing into him, the kiss deepened, the intensity building between you until all the nerves and tension melted away. His hand slipped to your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate circles.

When he finally pulled away, the room erupted in cheers and teasing catcalls, but you could hardly focus on any of it.

The only thing you could think about was the way Megumi’s hand lingered on your waist, his eyes still locked on yours as though you were the only person in the room.

“Wow,” Yuji finally broke the silence, clapping his hands together. “That was intense.”

“Way to go, Fushiguro,” Nobara added, winking at you with a knowing smile.

Megumi, still quiet, returned to his spot beside you, but this time, his body language was different.

There was no more guarded front, no more distance. Instead, his knee brushed against yours, his arm resting just a little too close to be accidental.

The game had peeled back some of his usual stoicism, and now there was something deeper lurking beneath his calm exterior—something you could feel humming in the space between you.

You dared to glance over at him, only to find his eyes already on you, their dark intensity sending a rush of heat to your cheeks. He didn't look away, didn't even try to hide the fact that he was watching you.

Your breath hitched slightly, the sudden weight of his gaze pressing down on you, making your pulse quicken. It was like he was trying to read you, see past the casual facade you were putting up for the others.

But his eyes weren’t just curious—they were hungry, filled with a desire you weren’t sure you were ready to face head-on, but that also thrilled you in ways you hadn’t expected.

The others were too caught up in their laughter to notice the way the air crackled between you and Megumi, but you were hyper-aware of every single movement he made. Even the subtle shift in his posture, the way his hand rested dangerously close to your thigh, sent sparks through you.

You swallowed, trying to shake off the way your skin prickled with awareness, but it was impossible. The more you tried to ignore him, the more your body seemed to betray you, the warmth in your stomach spreading lower with every lingering glance he threw your way.

Then, as if on cue, Megumi stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. "I'm getting another bottle," he murmured, his voice low and rough around the edges, like he was holding back more than just his words.

You weren’t prepared for what came next. As he rose, his hand grazed your thigh—a light, seemingly casual touch, but it set every nerve in your body on fire.

His fingers lingered for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary, sending a jolt of electricity through you, and when you looked up, his eyes met yours again, darker now, filled with an unspoken promise.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, everything around you blurred—Nobara’s laughter, Yuji’s teasing, Maki’s quips—all of it fading into the background.

All you could focus on was the heat of Megumi’s touch, the way it had seared through you, leaving your skin tingling with anticipation—you wanted him, bad.

The room felt too small, too hot, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of space between you and him. It was nothing, really—a simple touch, a brush of fingers—but it felt like everything.

Like the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving only the tension that crackled between you both.

He disappeared for a moment, leaving you to catch your breath. But even as he walked away, you could still feel him. It was like his presence clung to you, the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin even in his absence.

When Megumi returned with another bottle of sake, his calm facade was back in place, but you weren’t fooled. There was a subtle shift in the way he moved, the way his eyes flicked to you as he sat back down, this time even closer than before.

His thigh brushed against yours, just barely, but it was enough to send another rush of heat pooling in your stomach.

You could feel him now, not just his physical presence, but the storm of emotions brewing just beneath the surface.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly too aware of every inch of your body—how close you were sitting, the way your legs almost touched, the heat radiating off him.

It felt like every breath you took was somehow synced with his, the air between you buzzing with a tension that neither of you acknowledged out loud but was impossible to ignore.

Nobara was saying something, but you barely registered the words. Your focus had narrowed, zeroing in on the way Megumi’s fingers brushed against the rim of his glass, the way his jaw clenched slightly when he looked at you, like he was holding something back.

The tension was suffocating, but in the best possible way, like it was wrapping around you, pulling you both into a world where nothing else mattered.

You shifted again, but this time it felt deliberate. The tiniest of movements, your knee brushing against his, the fabric of his pants against your skin.

It was innocent enough on the surface, but the way his eyes darkened in response told you everything you needed to know. The tension between you had been building for too long, simmering just beneath the surface, and now, it felt like it was reaching a boiling point.

When he looked at you again, his gaze was heated, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but was holding back. You couldn’t help the way your pulse quickened, your heart thudding in your chest.

You wanted him to break first, to give in to whatever this was that had been hanging between you for so long.

—

The night was winding down, but the weight of everything that had been said—and left unsaid—hung heavily in the air. The others had drifted off to their rooms, their laughter fading into the background as the dorm grew quieter.

It was just you and Megumi now, the soft glow of the lamplight casting long shadows across the room, highlighting the distance between you that was rapidly shrinking with every passing second.

Megumi stood close, his usual stoic expression softer now, more vulnerable than you had ever seen. His fingers brushed against your arm, sending a spark of electricity down your spine. His eyes flickered, like he was searching for the right words but couldn’t quite find them.

"You’re staying, right?" His voice was quiet, hesitant, the rough edge of his usual demeanor replaced with something rawer, something real.

You nodded, heart pounding. "Yeah. I’m staying."

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation, the unspoken tension between you two finally rising to the surface after simmering for so long.

You could feel the magnetic pull between you, an invisible thread tugging you closer, binding you in this shared moment of vulnerability and desire.

Before you could say anything else, Megumi’s resolve seemed to snap. His lips were on yours again, more urgent this time, as if the dam holding back everything he’d been feeling for so long had finally burst.

His hands slipped to your waist, pulling you flush against him, his grip firm but careful, like he was afraid to let go.

This kiss was different from the one earlier, more intense, filled with unspoken promises and a hunger that neither of you had fully realized until now.

It was as if all the time spent pretending, all the looks, the touches, the quiet moments shared between you, had led to this.

You let out a long-awaited moan into his mouth as your lips moved hungrily in sync, as if releasing all the tension you’d been sitting in all night.

The fire between you was no longer just a flicker—it had ignited into something all-consuming, something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

You kissed him back with equal intensity, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pressed yourself closer, desperate to erase any remaining space between you.

His lips moved against yours with a rhythm that felt both familiar and new, like you had been waiting for this moment your entire life. The heat between you was overwhelming, your mind hazy with the sheer closeness of him.

Megumi’s hands roamed your waist, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, his fingers rough and warm as they explored the sensitive skin beneath.

His touch was deliberate, slow, as though he was savoring every second, every inch of your body that he could claim.

Each pass of his fingertips was electric, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, igniting a fire deep inside you that you could no longer contain.

The moment his skin touched yours, it was like a spark had been lit, an intense awareness coursing through your body.

His hands slid up the curve of your waist, pausing just beneath your ribs, his thumbs grazing the underside of your chest with an aching slowness that sent shivers racing down your spine.

The contact was subtle, but the heat from his touch seared into you, making your breath hitch and your pulse race.

Your senses were on overdrive—every small stroke of his fingers, the way his nails lightly grazed your skin, sent a rush of heat pooling in your core.

The alcohol had dulled your inhibitions, making you hyper-aware of every inch of him against you, but it was more than that.

The intimacy, the raw connection you shared with him, was overwhelming, heightening the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you.

You could feel it in every brush of his skin against yours, every soft exhale of his breath on your neck as he nibbled at your soft skin.

The tension built with every passing second, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control.

His hands moved higher, his touch growing bolder, more possessive, and it was almost unbearable—the way you ached for more, for him to go further, to close the distance that still remained between you.

Your body trembled beneath his touch, anticipation coursing through your veins as you leaned into him, needing him closer, needing more of him.

Your soft gasp filled the space between you as Megumi’s lips pressed against the side of your neck, trailing a slow, deliberate path down your skin. His breath was warm, ragged, and every exhale sent a wave of heat coursing through you.

He kissed the sensitive spot just below your ear, the warmth of his lips and the scrape of his teeth drawing another shiver from you. It was maddening—the way he took his time, teasing you with soft, lingering kisses that left your body trembling with need.

His lips pressed against the hollow of your throat, and the sensation of his mouth on your skin made you feel like you were unraveling, your body responding to him with a mind of its own.

Every kiss, every stroke of his fingers sent another wave of heat crashing through you, your thoughts muddled by the intoxicating combination of alcohol, desire, and the closeness of his body against yours.

You could feel his breath falter, his own restraint slipping as his lips moved against your skin, the heat between you becoming almost unbearable. He kissed lower, his lips trailing along your collarbone, leaving a path of warmth and want in their wake.

Your heart raced, your body thrumming with the need for more, for him to touch you everywhere, to finally give in to the desire that had been building between you for what felt like forever.

As his hands tightened around your waist, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin, you knew that you weren’t the only one losing control.

Megumi’s breath came faster, more ragged, his kisses turning hungrier, more desperate, as though he was just as consumed by this moment as you were.

The world outside faded into nothing, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other, the heat of your bodies and the tension that had been simmering between you for far too long finally breaking free.

He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as both of you caught your breath. His hands still held you close, refusing to let go, and when his eyes met yours again, they were dark with an intensity that made your heart race.

"Y/n," he whispered, his voice rough and low, filled with a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. "I’ve wanted this for so long... wanted you."

Your heart fluttered at his confession, the weight of his words settling deep inside you. You had always known there was something between you and Megumi, but hearing it from him, feeling it in the way he touched you, made it all feel so much more real.

"I’ve wanted you too," you whispered back, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard it. He didn’t need words to understand—he could feel it in the way you clung to him, the way your body fit perfectly against his.

He captured your lips again, this time slower, deeper, savoring every second of it. The kiss was languid, filled with all the emotions you had both been too afraid to admit until now. His hands traced up your back, drawing you impossibly closer, his fingers tangled in your hair as the kiss grew more passionate.

The world outside faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth and need. Time seemed to stretch, the only sound in the room the soft gasps and sighs as you both gave in to the moment, to the desire that had been building between you for so long.

Whatever unspoken boundaries had existed between you and Megumi before this night had shattered, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other’s arms, with nothing but your shared desire and the heat of the moment to guide you.

There was no turning back now.

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