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alloftheimagines · 3 months ago

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joel miller | complications

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words: 2.9k warnings: 18+ | angst, near death experience, blood, reader has a traumatic birth w/complications, PTSD naturally, joel reminded of sarah's death, newbown baby (yes they can be spooky! but this one is cute and safe), (please just somebody take that poor man's pain away) (or not because then what would we write about?) (also he and ellie are a little estranged like in tlou2) prompt: I was thinking maybe Jackson! Joel era and pregnant reader and then she almost dies while giving birth to the baby! Gives room for a lot of drama and angst, and potential comfort right at the end for our favorite old man. tags: (i know it's been a while since I last posted so let me know if you want to be untagged) @sweetbabygirlsworld @m4tthewmurd0ck @domaniquessidehoe @spideysimpossiblegirl note: you can read this as pedro's joel if you so wish, but i am in my game!joel feels rn

“I can’t do this, Joel.” Your face creased with pain as another contraction wracked through you. You’d known that labour would hurt, of course, but you hadn’t expected it to come on this quickly, and so strong. You hadn’t yet passed the eight-month mark, and you weren’t prepared. Not even a little. You hadn’t even sorted the nursery yet, or found a crib.

Joel held your hand on the floor of your living room, keeping you supported while you braced against the couch. He brushed the hair from your face, calm and unreadable as ever, but even you didn’t miss the way his fingers trembled against your skin. “You got this, baby girl. I know you can.”

“Don’t think you have much of a choice.” Your doctor, one of the few midwives in town, lifted her head. She sat at your feet, peeling off her gloves after your examination. “You’re fully dilated. This baby is coming right now.”

“There’s no time to get to the infirmary?” you questioned, voice rising in panic. The contractions had barely started an hour ago, and sure, you’d left it a little late before confessing that they were getting painful. Ellie had rushed out not fifteen minutes ago to call for your midwife’s help, and now…

Now, the baby was coming, and all you could think was that it wasn’t supposed to be like this. The pregnancy had been a shock to your system. You hadn’t even been sure that Joel would want to go through with it after everything he’d experienced before. But he’d held your hand through each ultrasound, felt your belly for the first kick, and even when you saw fear — dread, even — cross his features, you could easily reassure him that this time was different. This time, it was safe. You’d lived in Jackson for over a year now, and it was the security of the community that had made motherhood feel possible.

The midwife shook her head. “I’m sorry. You need to start pushing on your next contraction.”

“Oh, god,” you whispered, teeth chattering as the weight of the situation hit you.

“Hey, look at me.” Joel tilted your chin gently. “It’s gonna be just fine, darlin’. You just breathe and push, okay? We’ll do the rest.”

“Right, just breathe and push,” you muttered. “Of course, you forgot the part about shoving a small human out of my hoo-ha.”

He smirked, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Oh, right. That little detail.”

“I kinda hate you right now.” Just as you said it, another contraction hit, and your head fell back as you moaned.

“Push now if you feel like you should!” your midwife reminded. Then, to Ellie: “Go get some clean towels, hon. Lots of ‘em.”

In the doorway, Ellie looked grateful to be given a job and scampered off.

You did as instructed, dipping your chin into your chest as you pushed, pushed, pushed. A scream ripped through you at the pain it brought, each moment worse than the last.

“You’re doing so good, baby. So good. She’s gonna be here so soon,” Joel whispered, his grip around you the only thing keeping you tethered to the here and now.

Dizziness consumed you as your contraction finally eased. “Is she okay?”

“I’m seeing the head.” The midwife beamed. “Just a few more pushes, okay?”

Somehow, you breathed, and you pushed, and you felt your way through the pain as your body broke and mended and then broke again. Joel kept his grip on your hand tight, reassuring, but you saw him bite his lip toward the end and knew that he might have been just as terrified as you.

The final push finally came, and you sunk back as the newborn's cry rang out.

“She’s here. You did it,” Joel murmured, kissing your clammy temple. He laughed into your skin, the sound of joy and disbelief sending a shiver through you. You tried to lift your head, to see your daughter, but everything felt wrong. Heavy. It still hurt, and black spots dotted your vision.

“Le’ me see her.” Your words were slurred, your voice far away.

The last thing you heard was Joel calling your name, his voice raw and broken — terrified.

***

“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded.

“She’s bleeding too heavily. I need to get her to the infirmary.” The midwife shook her head, handing him the screaming newborn. His screaming newborn. It had taken months to quell the panic of becoming a father again — not that he had ever truly stopped. Sarah had lived in his heart all these years, and Ellie was his daughter, even if she hated him for what he did.

He made the mistake of looking at you, and the sight of the blood made him sick. So much of it. There was so damn much of it. He’d seen a lot of people bleed out, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing this much.

“Shit," he cursed.

He didn’t know when Ellie had returned, but she stood wan and she’ll shocked beside him now.

“Please, take her.” He shoved the baby into her arms before lowering back to his knees to grab your hand. “Don’t you dare do this to me, baby. Not now.”

“Can you carry her to the infirmary?” the midwife asked desperately.

He didn’t think twice, slipping his arms under your limp body.

“Joel! She’s gonna be alright, right?” Ellie stuttered, and he heard the panic in her voice, too, as she swayed the baby from side to side, swaddling her in blankets. You were the closest thing Ellie had to a mother. If either of them lost you…

He couldn’t even try to find an answer, as much as he wanted it to be yes.

He gritted his teeth, hauling you up on shaky legs. Thankfully, the infirmary was only a few blocks away, and nobody was there to slow him down so late at night.

He couldn’t make sense of it. One minute, he’d been settling down for the night after a long patrol shift. The next, you were curled up in pain, claiming the baby was coming.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, fingers curling into your old sweater. His old sweater, if he was being particular, but you’d stolen it from him so long ago that it smelled completely of you now: soap and fresh air. Blood.

He staggered into the infirmary with that smell still in his nostrils, dampness spreading across his hands, and he damn near passed out on the threshold. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave you, even when flashes of him holding Sarah this exact way raced through his mind. Even when a broken sob stuck in his throat, because he was holding on, and you weren’t, and she wasn’t, and why did he always have to be the one to watch the life seep from them? To end the night with nothing but their blood on his hands?

He set you down on the first bed he came to, drawing the alarmed attention of the nurses, who had a moment ago been ready to dose off on their night shift. In such a small community, they weren’t often needed after dark.

Behind him, the midwife called out orders, wheeling you away into the surgery theatre. He watched you disappear into a white-walled room, a tiny thing that never would have sufficed in the old world.

In the old world, you probably wouldn’t have given birth in a living room. In the old world, he wouldn’t be stiff with a fear he couldn’t control, frozen with memories that refused to ever leave him.

He spun around and felt unsettled to see Ellie cradling the baby, mouth agape with the same cluelessness he felt. His baby. His. He had to be a father now, but he didn’t know how when you weren’t here with him. He felt like that thing he was always losing in his dreams was finally gone for good. Ripped from him one last time.

He couldn’t look at the baby’s cherubic face. Couldn’t even look at Ellie.

He couldn’t remember why he’d been so relaxed just yesterday to think of the little life you’d both been impatiently waiting to begin. Couldn’t remember how he’d found the strength to sing a lullaby to your bump, laughing when a foot kicked his palm as though telling him to shut the hell up.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now? She was so tiny and pink and new, wrapped in bloody blankets, and he…

“Go give her to one of the nurses,” he whispered.

“Joel—” Ellie made to protest, but he couldn’t hear it. Wouldn't.

“Ellie,” he snapped. “Go give her to one of the damn nurses. I can’t.”

“Well, you don’t have a fucking choice, because she’s yours now.” Ellie shoved her into his hands without warning. He tensed with the new weight, bile rising in his stomach. No. No. No. Everything he held, he broke.

But then the baby let out a gurgle, her feet kicking his palm just like the night before when she was still safe in your belly, and he couldn’t keep from looking down at her. Couldn’t keep from seeing you in all her innocent features. Eyes, nose, even the fine tuft of hair on her head.

“I can clean her down and check she’s doing okay,” a nurse offered, and suddenly, he was reluctant to let her go.

And then he remembered you, the blood, your motionless body after so long spent screaming, Ellie’s hatred, Tess, Sarah, and he was glad for somebody else to take care of her. The further away that kid was, the better. He was a fucking curse, and she…

He scraped a hand over his face, pacing over to the surgery room. He didn’t dare march in, no matter how badly he wanted to.

“She’s going to be okay,” Ellie said from behind him gently. “She’s strong, and I’m sure shit like this happens all the time.”

“I told her we’d be okay,” Joel rasped out, face crumpling finally. “I told her that it would turn out alright, that we could be… That we could make something good here.”

“And you will,” Ellie said.

He shook his head. “I might as well have killed her my damn self.” He looked down at his bloodied hands as though they weren’t his. They shook more than they ever had before.

“Stop it! She’s going to make it. She has to!” Ellie’s yell took him aback, piercing in such a quiet, echoey space. She jabbed a finger into Joel’s shoulder. “And you have to hold it together. I know it’s fucking hard, alright, but you don’t get to lose it now! You can’t blame yourself for everything that goes wrong in our lives, Joel! That’s not how it works!”

He swallowed down his own self-loathing, head bowed. “I can’t do it without her,” he whispered.

The rawness in his voice must have been visceral, because Ellie paused, her eyes filling with tears.

And then she hugged him, tight enough that he thought maybe she was trying to keep him in one piece. He let out a ragged breath and held her. And then he did what she asked. He tried to hold it together.

***

You woke to whispers and gurgles and wondered for a moment if you were dreaming. Your lids were heavy, body distant, and you couldn’t quite remember where you were or who was supposed to be with you.

Until you prised your eyes open and found IVs plugged into your veins.

“There she is,” a voice said softly.

You blinked, searching for the source, and found it in a bleary version of Joel. He sat in a chair beside your bed, a tiny baby in his arms. His smile was shaky, distorted, and you didn’t know why. Not until he leaned forward and brushed your hair from your face with his free arm.

“Thought you’d left me there for a second.”

“Is she okay?” Your throat was hoarse.

He nodded. “Right as rain. It’s you we were worried about.”

You frowned, trying to remember. One minute, you were pushing as though your life depended on it, and then the next, you were just… gone.

“You had a heavy bleed. Needed a transfusion,” Joel explained finally. “But they reckon you’re gonna be okay, thank god.”

“But she’s okay?” You stared at the baby nestled against his chest, not quite sure how she was here. When had this being growing inside of you become a real, tangible thing? How much of her life had you already missed?

Joel sighed impatiently. “Yes, baby. She’s perfect. Takes after her mom in that department.”

He moved to perch beside you so that you could get a closer look. He was right, of course. She was a little smaller than most newborns, but she was perfect. Pink apple cheeks, wide eyes, tiny fingernails. Looking at her felt like everything had finally fallen into place. You tickled her chin and her lips twitched with something content. Something right.

“How’s it feel, being a daddy again?” you asked gently, looking up at him.

“Right now, it feels like hell. You can’t go scaring me like that.” He wouldn’t look at you, frown set firmly on his daughter. “Thought I was gonna have a heart attack."

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t imagine how scared he must have been. After everything, you’d finally thought that danger, terror, was a thing of the past. You’d done a great job of ruining that, even if it wasn’t on purpose. Joel had lost too much before to deal with all this, and you had no idea how you’d cope in his shoes.

He chuckled. “You’re sorry.” Shook his head. “I ain’t trying to make you apologise for almost dying, darlin’. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

“We said we could do this right,” you whispered. “I promised you it’d be different.”

“Yeah, well… feels like things’ll never be different for me.”

You snapped your head up. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothin’.” He sighed, kissing your temple, and yet still, he wouldn’t meet your eye. “How about you get some rest? I’ll keep the little missus company.”

“Joel.” You cupped his jaw, pleading now. Everything felt so wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Even though the proof was right in front of you, it was hard to believe your baby was happy and healthy after all the trauma you’d faced. “We’re not gonna start her life this way. Tell me what you mean.”

He placed the baby down in the crib beside your bed before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I keep having to plan a life where I’m alone again, and honestly, I don’t know how I’d do it if I had to. Not this time.”

“But you’re not alone. I’m right here.”

“But you weren’t. For a minute there, I thought…” His voice grew thick, and he shook his head. “Sarah’s gone. Ellie hates me. Why the hell did I think it’d be third time lucky? She’s not even a day old, and she almost lost her mom! And there was nothing I could do. There’s never anything I can do.”

Your heart ached for him. One day, you prayed he wouldn’t hold the responsibility of every single person he loved on his shoulders. Maybe he was right. Maybe you’d been foolish to go into this thinking it could be better. The world would never be safe, not even here in Jackson, and the pain he must live with every day sure as hell wouldn’t ease now he had another daughter to raise.

You felt hollow at the thought that maybe he’d leave. You wouldn’t blame him, not really. You were scared, too. But you’d only found the strength to do this because you were together, and you’d survived the odds so far. If that stopped feeling true… what then?

Devastation must have been written all over your face, because he pursed his lips. “Don’t listen to me, baby. I shouldn’t be sayin’ all this. You’re barely out of the woods.”

“I don’t think we can keep doing this if you don’t let some of that guilt and blame go, Joel,” you admitted. “I think your daughter is gonna need a man who doesn’t hate himself for every single thing that’s wrong in the world. You’re right. There was nothing you could have done to stop this from happening. It was my body, and things like this happened even before the outbreak. I can’t imagine how scared you were, love, but fuck, you can’t keep making it your fault. It isn’t. It never was, especially not with Sarah. And this baby? She isn't Sarah."

He winced at her name, as he often still did. Collapsing back in his chair, he took your hand. Slowly, his lower lip began to wobble as he finally met your gaze. “I love you too much to lose you. And her… How the hell am I gonna do this?”

“I can’t answer that,” you said. “We knew it wouldn’t be easy.”

He snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.” Then, he bowed his head to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Gonna try to be better. I promise. I'll hold it together."

“You don’t need to be better, and you don't need to hold it together. You’re already a good man, and talking about all this is important - for both of us. And for her.” You squeezed his fingers tightly. “I love you so much.” You teared up as you looked at the baby dozing in her crib. “And god, I love her. Can you believe we made her?”

He hummed. “What the hell are we gonna call her?”

“And where the hell are we gonna put her?” you added, worrying at your lip. “We never even found a crib.”

He shrugged, teasing. “I’m sure we’ll find a corner somewhere.” He leaned forward, tracing circles along your arm. “We’ll make do. Between the four of us, we’ll find a way. I’ll cut the damn trees down and build us a place from scratch myself if I have to.”

You smiled, peace finally flooding your exhausted body. You saw Ellie standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, and knew Joel was right. Your family was complete now. It would be a little broken at times, as all things were, but you’d do everything in your power to keep it whole.

Even if it meant reminding Joel every damn day that he had to be gentle with himself.

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clawsdevour · 3 months ago

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one more time

wc: 2.4k content warning: post-time skip, lev x reader, smut, one night stand oral sex m!receiving, fingering, size kink, not proofread

note: this may be kindaaa rushed at the end... sorryyyyy but lev x size kink is real to me too anon... like i get you and i hope u enjoy it :D

༘⋆｡˚

Gravity’s pulling you down as you elevate up the luxurious hotel to your one night stand’s room. To your surprise, you weren’t expecting such a rich person you’d be hooking up with for the night. Since 8:03 PM you’ve been feeling a bit in need of some good dick to fill you up. And well, nowadays it could take a while to get into someone’s pants, so why not try a dating app?

Scrolling and swiping till your eyes settled on this certain man’s profile. He didn’t show his full face, but he did show his side profile.. Just barely. He seemed to appear as a pale man with foreign features and grey hair. Staring at his profile, your eyes are absolutely glued onto him even though that was the only photo of himself on the app.

Feeling a bit risky, you decide to swipe on him. You knew the chances were slim with what you put on your profile. But to your surprise.. He also swiped on you, the app giving you the little notification that you’ve matched. Oh my god! He actually swiped back?? Your heart started to flutter when you realized he was typing, the little bubble emote popping up in the corner of your screen. Shockingly, he was very charismatic. For about an hour or two, you’re both just getting to know each other. Especially why you both were on the app in the first place.

L: just wondering.. Why’re you on this app? You: okay this is kinda embarrassing to admit You: but i’m just looking for a hook up...

Flushed with humiliation, turning your phone over right after you sent that message. The vibration his text sent to your phone, making you feel anxious.

L: oh haha! L: i’m actually on here for the same thing L: ik we just met but like since we’re both looking for L: well yk… sex L: do you wanna do it with me?

Five messages in under a minute. This man must be as desperate as you. No way you’re gonna let this opportunity slide. Of course you’re gonna take this chance to get dicked down by a nice and gorgeous man. Overall, it was just a one night stand.

You: well are you down for tonight? L: i’m free rn and later and till like tmr.. L: so yeah im down You: send over that address

Stepping out of the elevator on the floor where your hook up’s waiting for you. Your heels clicked and clack, yes, you wore heels after checking the address he sent you. The sounds continued to tap against the hotel marble floors, echoing against the walls as you stared at his hotel door.

Gulping deeply before you knock with your knuckles, the door swung open causing you to gasp. The tall and broad silhoutte grabs you inside, shutting the door behind you. What’s going on?? Was all was coursing through your mind.

“Look, I can explain.” The man gently shouts after you break free of his grasp, hands up to show he meant no harm. You’re looking at him like you’ve gone into fight or flight mode. The figure’s removing his black hat and facemask, revealing himself as Lev Haiba. Yes, Lev Haiba like the famous model you see on billboards everywhere in Shibuya!

“W-Wait.. You’re–” face altered to mouth out an ‘o.’ Your words came to a halt when he responded with “Yes.. I know I’m Lev Haiba. Like the model… but look! I’m also tryna have fun just like you.”

Wowed, you tried to ignore the fact that he’s a celebrity, trying to give him that sense of normality in his world. You weren’t on his level of fame, but you understood and nodded. Still, you can’t help but be baffled at this pure luck.

“So.. are you gonna show me it?” You’re inching closer towards his face while he’s slowly backing up, finger pressing down on his exposed chest from his unbuttoned dress shirt, stopping when his back hit the cold wall. You have this smug look on your face while he’s down for the challenge, biting on his bottom lip seeing how needy you were, his eyes glaring back at you sinfully.

“After we makeout,” immediately, Lev’s crashing his soft lips against yours through heavy breathes. You’re closing your half lidded eyes as you fought back, trying to assert your dominance through the deep kiss. You lose control of the flow when you feel his tongue slide into your mouth, exploring the inside of your mouth with his wet and warm muscle.

The desire for intimacy grew so much, you started to moan into the kiss, wow was he good it was almost fever inducing. Although it was hella arousing, you did have to pull back to catch your breath for a moment. His green lustful eyes fluttered down on you, watching your complex swell with red undertones. A thin string of saliva was the only thing that connected you two.

“Should we head over to the bedroom?” The half-Russian man murmured under his tired breath. You mumbled out a simple “Yeah” before wrapping your arms around his neck, signaling him to catch you when you jump up on him.

He’s slowly strolling down the large penthouse, heavy footsteps mixed with the sounds of your swollen lips that met once again. The sounds of smooching resonated along the decorated walls. His hands were kneading your ass while he carried you close to his body. His hands are traveling all over the dress you wore while you kicked off your heels on the floor, essentially abandoning them. His hands prod down lower, through the sheerness of your dress his finger feel something warmer than skin.. and something damp.

“You’re not wearing anything under your dress?” leaning his head away centimeters away from yours, pausing his actions. His piercing eyes burned into you with hunger, his smile curving into a smirk before he chuckled in glee.

“Why would I if I knew it’d end up on the floor?” Staring down his at gorgeous features his model face was born with. His perfect eyes, nose, and swollen lips due to yours.

“Aww, I wanted to rip it off” He taunted with an expressive face that beamed at you. You feel a hand come off of you, the sound of the door handle twisting.

The cool air instantly hits you before he even walked in. Windows galore, you forgot you’re on the highest floor of the whole building. Your eyes lit up since all you could see was the streets of Shibuya.

“Pretty nice, huh” Lev huffed before tossing you onto the fluffy white sheets before unbuttoning the rest of his dress shirt. You watch as he’s unhooking each button from each coin shaped slot, mouth salivating when you saw his abs that were delicately highlighted by the moon ...As well as the size that pressed against his tight pants.

“Those pants look real tight..” giggling as you leaned towards his crotch to free his growing bulge. Damn did it look bigger when he slid down his pants to show you his grey boxers that had a moist spot.

You’re looking up for his approval to take his cock out of his boxers, to which he shakes out a nod to continue. Rubbing his length before taking it out, it accidentally smacks you on the cheek with its overwhelming girth.

“It’s so.. Big! I don’t know if this’ll fit in my mouth Lev..” you mouthed out with a slight worried expression covered by excitement. You don’t know if you’re able to take his cock but you know at the end you’re gonna end up begging for him.

On your knees on the plush mattress, you’re stroking his cock up and down with your cold hands. Your mouth parted to go down on his dick, the size was way overbearing which causing you to cough like crazy.

“You don’t have to rush. I’m already feeling pretty, ..pretty good” his large hands caressed your cheeks, ready to wipe off any tears his cock could cause you.

Second times a charm, you thought to yourself before trying again. This time you were successful in getting the tip in. The heat from your mouth radiated and swarmed him in pleasure, making him slightly tilt his head up as he’s trying to keep his eyes on you from above. The more you inched down on him, the more your jaw started to hurt trying to take all of him.

“I’hurt..” gagging before you can form a sentence. Lev, taking it out of your mouth before sitting you back down.

His body was towering over yours till your head hit the pillows with a soft thud. He’s helping you remove your dress, revealing your bare and naked body to him as his eyes lingered for far too long. Your nipples perked due to the cold air, your pussy slightly glistening from being aroused.

“Already this wet?” big hands grab onto the side of your thighs, pulling you down for inspection while they parted your knees for him. Lev’s staring you down before averting his green eyes lower to your clit that begged for stimulation.

A finger brushes against your slit, making you slightly flinch at his touch. He’s showing you the amount of slick he’s collected on his finger followed by a “How cute” before inserting it back into your pussy that longed to be stuffed.

His slender long fingers worked wonders, making you arch your back more everytime he curled into you. Adding in more one at at a time, he’s got three in there to stretch you out. It was a lot to take in as your legs trembled with pleasure every time you were close.

Heat pooled in the depths of your stomach as you absorbed his fingers that scissored you wide open. The squelching was unmatched to what the sloppy and wet kissing sounds were like when you roamed the halls to the bedroom. Your mouth was parted the whole time to let him hear all of your sweet and vulnerable moans as you called out his name.

“Stop.. M’gonna cum again!” Your hands reached for his, gripping onto his wrist that moved in and out of you at a hasty pace. This wasn’t the first orgasm but rather your second or maybe third.

His digits continued to plummet into you until you started to see stars on the plain white ceiling. Blinking back to your consciousness as you panted out, your sopping wet sunt pulsating as if it had its own heartbeat. You bring your head up to see the giant man stroking his cock whilst gazing at the sight of you sprawled on his bed with your legs spread, pussy coated in juices he produced.

“I’m on the pill, y-you can just put it in” You’re stuttering out words as your reached to spread your pussy open for him to gawk at. Your gaping wet entrance, rising and falling with your pace of breathing.

“Okay, but let me know when to stop or slow down if it hurts though,” he’s mumbling through his breath, broad shoulders inching forward towards you.

He’s sliding his cock against your warm and swollen clit down to your entrance, making you clench a bit due to the intimate friction. When his dick was all covered in your warm essence, he lined himself up. His glossy eyes looked at you once more, while you watched him slide a few centimeters into you.

Biting down on your lower lip, it was more than just a stretch to get the tip in. Your hole had to expand to his size as he started to inch in further. He could see the pain he was putting through when you started to increase your grip on the sheets, eyes swelling with tears that formed.

“I’m sorry. It hurts a lot doesn’t it..” removing a hand from under your thigh to brush off a tear. You bob your head in silence as you continued to take him. Lev’s giving you his time and patience while peppering your face with forgiving kisses.

When he eventually fit his full length in, Lev was kind enough to give you a moment for you to adjust as if your pussy was molding to the shape of him. He’s waiting for your cue to start penetrating you, as he held back his urges. Your tight walls clamped down on him, as if you were able to snap his cock in half.

“You feel so good even though we haven’t started moving yet.” He’s chuckling to himself, seeing how good you took him. His large size fitting inside that tight hole that drove him feral when you rocked your hips the slightless bit.

“You can start moving..” you muttered whilst reaching for his face. “M’kay” was the last thing you heard before the pain started to thrust into you. His massive cock was scratching the inside of your walls like nails on a chalkboard.

It took a while before the pain started to turn into pleasure. He’s going at a consistent rate, not too fast nor too slow. His groans ring in your ear as you’re watching him thrust from above. Lev’s showing you his vulnerable face, he looked so delicious it made you feel so lucky that you’re able to see this side of him. Nevertheless have him in you.

Everything his cock hit inside you made your body shiver in pleasure. His dick was so big, he didn’t even have to find your sweet spot if he’s rubbing up all of your gummy walls. The pleasure and overstimulation was crazy. You can’t recall how many times you may have came on him. By the time he was about to finish, it’s like your mind was about to go numb.

“F-Fuck.! I’m boutta cum..” one last thrust or two before Lev pulled out to jack off his dick. Making you slightly whimper as you felt empty without him to fill you up. He’s stroking it fast above you, his cum squirting onto your stomach. Painting your abdomen with his seed, as your body heaved for air.

Falling down beside you to rest for a bit, his face tilted to your side to look at you. He’s also trembling for air after going on for so long.

“We should do this again..”

masterlist here

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messylustt · 1 year ago

Note

requesting for part two of the Yandere dead wife Miguel fic please 🙏

݁ 𓂃 ៸៸៸ a little dizzy — miguel o’hara + reader: you wake up somewhere new, with someone who looks exactly like your husband.

contents : yandere. full on manipulation here goddamn. possessive!miguel. like I’m not kidding he’s actually terrible for this (but of course still all soft and sweet to you). wc 1.5k.

pt one pt two

it was dark. at first at least, because your mind felt dizzy, as you moved to sit up. at first you thought maybe something was covering your eyes. but no, the room was just…dark.

you could feel the bed underneath you, as your feet hit the cold floor. the room looked rather bland, but as you continued to gaze around, brows furrowed at your swaying mind, you stop on a picture frame.

it had been purposefully placed down, which most likely meant that you probably shouldn’t put it back up. but your curiosity and want to realise your situation better, made your hand lift to view the picture. your breathing hitches when you see you.

or well…maybe not you. but a version. a version of you smiling, oblivious to the photo in general.

“she’s pretty isn’t she?” a voice makes you quickly place the photo back down as you spin to face whoever it was. you sway a fraction, reaching to grab out for the bed’s end post, but a hand is quickly holding you steady.

“you’ll be a bit dizzy still.” he softly comments, and then you recognise the voice. miguel. but not your miguel. you rush back, chest heaving. “you…you…kidnapped me?” your comment is more so a question at this point, as miguel shakes his head, reaching for you again.

but you stumble back, hand out, as you stare with full fledged anger. “don’t you dare come closer…i—“you take a breath, because it’s true you did still feel dizzy. you shake your head continuously. “you’re not…please tell me I’m dreaming.” you meet his gaze, and see utter adoration, but clear worry at your frantic actions.

“i thought so too at first.” miguel smiles. actually smiles. and you can’t fathom how he can at the current situation.

“but it’s not…”

miguel shakes his head, confirming so. “no. you’re here…” then he further mutters to himself. “…you’re really here…”

“no.” you say pointedly. “take me back.”

“look i know that you probably feel…scared right now—“

“scared?” you hiss out. “of course i feel scared. you pretended to be…oh god…i kissed you.” you mutter, replying yesterdays actions. was it yesterday? you weren’t sure. because time seemed to be irrelevant as of now.

“and it was better than I remembered.” miguel is slowly edging closer to you.

you shake your head, jaw clenching. “no. no, i’m not…i’m not your wife. please tell me you know that.”

“i know.” miguel clenched his jaw. “my wife is dead.”

you stop, meeting his gaze. there’s a flash of something cold before he catches your gaze, softening instantly, as his lips twitch up. “but you aren’t…and i’m not gonna let you die…” he edged closer again. “‘m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

you keep your hand out, but your expression has softened a fraction. he still grieved. and now his desperation kinda made sense to you. but that still gives him no right to just…take you. “i’m…sorry. i am, but i have my own life. a different life. with…miguel…my miguel.”

miguel’s jaw tightens at this, as he steps much much closer. you hadn’t realised that you were backing up until you felt the cold wall at your back. now Miguel had you trapped as his gaze wandered your face with an intimacy that had your breath hitching.

“i’m barely any different from your miguel.” he says, brushing your face and neck, making you shiver.

“he wouldn’t just kidnap someone.” you mutter, making miguel’s darting eyes meet your own. his caresses moved to grab your chin, keeping your head how he wanted.

“i hate to break it to you. but if any of my variants are like me, then anything close to determination, or desperation will lead us to do something like this.” his mouth had moved to drag his lips up the skin of your neck, just breathing you in. “if anything is of high importance to us, we make sure we get it.” he places a kiss to your collarbone.

your entire body is tense, as you try to draw away from his eager lips. but he’s persistent, keeping you still, as he begins to suck on your neck, mumbling spanish words into your skin.

“and you…are probably the upmost important thing to us.” his other hand has slipped around your waist, as his hand by your chin slips to the back of your neck.

“you’re wrong.” you manage, as he litters kisses up your neck and jaw.

“am i?” miguel hums, kitten licking your skin.

“i’m…i’m not important to you. only to one of you…or i’d like to think so.” you say quickly, trying not to let his kisses effect you.

miguel shakes his head against your skin, his head now resting in the crook of your neck as he just keeps you close. “but you are, you…mine...” he mutters your name.

“no—“

“yes.” he interrupts, pulling your waist closer to him. “all mine.” he mutters, his open mouth now over the side of your neck.

“i’m not…please, i’m…” you try, but his weight is crushing. “i’m really sorry about your wife, but…i’m not her, i can’t be her.”

“yes you can. you’re exactly like her.” miguel says, lifting his head, to kiss your lips. your ‘no’ comes out muffled as you manage to slightly draw him away.

“miguel.” you say pointedly. and he finally stops, breathing hard as he stares, seeming to make sure all your details sink into his brain.

“i can’t let you go again.”

“miguel.” you say again. “you never had me.”

his grip around your waist tightened. “i don’t care that you’re from another universe. you’re my wife. my wife now. you can’t really think i’d just give that up so easily can you?”

you shake your head. “i’m already married.”

“to a version of me.” he says, his clawed finger going back to tracing your skin.

“no. you’re a version of him, to me.” you say, truthfully. “you’re the variant who has no right. He’s my husband.”

his jaw clenched, his soft tracing now a tight grip on your cheeks to stop you talking. “don’t say that.”

you still manage to speak. “it’s the truth. even you can’t deny that.”

he breathes, his tongue running down his fang. “fine. you were his wife.” his hand had begun to stroke any part of you, keeping you close and against him. “but where is he? it’s been two days.”

your eyes widen. two days?!

miguel smirks at your shocked expression. “if he really was your husband, and cares about you. he would have found you already. i would have found you.” miguel’s manipulative words are whispered so enticingly.

you shake your head. “no he’s…where even am I?”

miguel didn’t want to say his universe. because then you’d make up some excuse about how your husband physically couldn’t get here. so Miguel instead says. “somewhere quiet. not far from your house actually. he’s just so oblivious.” miguel hides his smirk in your neck, going back to kissing and licking.

“no…” you weren’t going to believe that. He’s looking for you. your miguel is looking for you.

miguels hand slipped under your shirt, just to stroke your waist, hips and stomach. “maybe he’s just…busy. he has such a hard job doesn’t he?”

he’s looking for you—you keep repeating to yourself. he’s looking, he’s looking. but miguels poisonous words have snuck their way into your mind.

“i actually saw your husband, before I went to your house…” lies lies lies. “he was with…someone.”

your jaw clenched. because your mind instantly went to the woman he works with. no. you weren’t gonna be jealous. she was only his co-worker. a friend.

“they were standing rather…close.” miguel’s lips have left marks all over your neck, as he keeps stroking your skin, doing a lot more damage to your mind. a target of his that he can feel is slowly working. because you aren’t as tense anymore, and maybe you’re just thinking. but that would mean miguel’s plan is on its way.

he lifted his head, his face falling again, as he looks concerned, brushing your cheek with his fingers. “she seemed rather…eagerly engaging with him. of course i’m sure it’s nothing though. i’m sure he’s looking for you.”

miguel watches the switch in your expression. my, my you were so easy to manipulate. he held down his grin still displaying a form of sadness and pity.

“i’m sure he didn’t agree to that dinner.”

“what?” you stare at him, and for the first time today you completely and utterly stare at miguel. and he feels ecstatic.

“you didn’t know?” miguel tilts his head in fake surprise. “i thought he would have told you, since you’re well…his wife.”

he’s lying—you think to yourself. all his words are lies. but you can’t help but feel doubt prickle under your skin. because yes, your miguel has been rather busy lately, making small excuses. it’s fine right. he’s looking for you…right?

“ay, mi cariño…you didn’t know? i’m so sorry.” miguel gently kissed your cheek. carefully reading your now relaxed posture, as he moves his lips to capture yours.

and that’s when he knew he had you. his doubtful thoughts were planted now. and as he moved his hand to support the back of your neck, he knew for sure—kissing you harder—that he had you completely under his control.

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breadbrobin · 11 months ago

Note

Hi idk if you’re taking reqs but I’ve been reading your posts about Luke Castellan a lot and I think I’m getting obsessed- So could you make a fic/shot about a Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo reader where they’ve known each other since childhood and they’re kind of like frenemies (friends and/or enemies) and one day he ends up getting badly injured after a quest so she has to take care of him in the infirmary for a week, but ever since that happened he’s been trying to get injured just to go and see reader at the infirmary again?

Sorry if that wasn’t clear, and this is kinda inspired from another fic you made about Luke and daughter of Apollo:)

But if you ever make something like this I would really appreciate it if you tagged me!

two hearts

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: (as above)

warnings: canon typical mentions of violence, kissing, flirting, a couple of swear words, blood, idiots to lovers a lil bit too (can you tell it’s my favourite thing)

word count: 3.5k

(hiiii hello hi!! sorry this took me so long to get out, but here it is!! thank you so much for the request i had a lot of fun with this one (3.5k words of fun apparently). hope you enjoy it!)

———————————————

if someone had told you luke castellan was going to be gone on a quest when you arrived at camp for the summer, you wouldn’t have spent the whole drive to camp preparing to deal with his annoying ass.

you hiked up half-blood hill and over the boundary, noticing the distinct tension in the atmosphere. something was off.

when luke hadn’t come to see you as you dropped your bags off in the apollo cabin, or when you stopped into the infirmary, or even when you walked past the hermes cabin, you were clued in that something was up.

“where’s luke?” you asked chiron curiously.

“he is on a quest, child. sent by his father,” he smiled down at you warmly. “do not worry about him.”

“i’m not worried,” you bit your lip. “just curious. that’s all.”

and that was that.

it was weirdly boring being at camp without luke’s constant snarky comments. ever since you’d both gotten to camp when you were younger, he’d been a persistent thorn in your side. maybe it was because you both were new around the same time, or because you didn’t like it when he hovered around the infirmary, poking his quick fingers into buckets of bandages and medications. whatever it was, he seemed to enjoy irritating you. and you apparently enjoyed it more than you thought.

monotonous days: breakfast, archery, infirmary, training, activities, dinner, bed.

sleepless nights: nightmares of quests and dragons and a bright white scar.

you sighed one night, waking up from yet another dream of flashes and brief images. your siblings were sleeping around you, a couple of them snoring, and you sat up.

the air on the porch was cooler that night, especially for summer time. you wrapped your sweatshirt a little tighter around yourself and leaned on the porch railing, peering out into the darkness. you just needed a minute, really. you sat down on a chair and relaxed.

you woke up abruptly.

at first, you were confused as to why.

then you saw the figure on the hill.

it was a camper. the hint of orange in the full-moon light told you that much. they were stumbling down—no, they were rolling now.

you stood up and dashed back into your cabin, grabbing your to-go first aid kit. you then turned and ran towards the obviously injured figure. there were only three people it could be. and where were the other two?

you reached them quickly, dropping to your knees beside them and rolling them over.

luke.

it was luke.

the air rushed from your lungs. he was here. he was back. he was alive. you’d never felt such an overwhelming emotion before. it drew slight stinging tears to your eyes.

his eyes were barely open but he gripped your arm with a strength you didn’t think his weak body could still possess. “y/n?”

“just hold on, luke,” you whispered. there were injuries all over his body. you hardly knew where to start. “just hold on.”

“they’re gone,” he said absently.

you looked at him, but didn’t stop trying to help. “who’s gone?”

“everyone,” he stared up at the moon.

you bit your cheek and looked over your shoulder. one of your brothers had gone on that quest with him. “wake up!” you shouted. “someone come help!” you turned back to luke. “okay, luke. you’re gonna be okay.”

his cheeks were hollow. it was then that you noticed the way his eye was swollen closed and a dark red angry cut traced its way down the side of his face. you gasped and turned his head gently to see it better.

“not looking good, huh?” he murmured bitterly. “guess i won’t be getting any modelling contracts soon.”

“we’ll see about that,” you muttered. “stay awake, yeah?”

“you’re not the boss of me,” he grumbled, but kept his eyes open as help finally arrived to get him to the infirmary.

he’d had more injuries than you’d originally thought. it was like he’d been attacked by half of the monsters in greek mythology, honestly, based on the peppered burn holes in his shirt, the cuts and scrapes on his arms and knees and the gashes littering his abdomen. oh, and not to mention the gaping spear wound in his right shoulder.

after working all night with some of your siblings and chiron in the infirmary, he was finally stable. finally, he’d be okay.

you volunteered to stay with him to keep an eye on him for the first few hours, though your eyelids were drooping with sleep.

you held his hand. it felt like the right thing to do.

he didn’t stir.

it was strange, being around him without him talking. since you were fourteen, he’d rarely managed to shut up around you. incessant talking and waving his hands around, explaining some new thing he learned in sword fighting or some joke one of his brothers made. it was both infuriating and entertaining. you loved and hated it, just like you loved and hated him.

sitting in silence with luke castellan felt like the world was turning on its head.

a couple of hours passed. you didn’t let go of his hand. not even as you slipped into a dream—a memory, really.

you were fifteen, and it was raining. it had only been a few months since you got to camp. things were still fresh and somewhat unknown. what you did know, though, was you could never get a moments peace anymore.

“y/n?”

you rolled your eyes. of course it was luke. “what?”

“where are you?”

you supposed you were hidden pretty well. sitting among the reeds at the bottom of the lake was one of your favourite places to be. it was cooler there, but even in winter it wasn’t cold. your feet could sit in the water if you wanted them to and the reeds blocked you from the wind and outside attention.

when you didn’t respond, you could hear him coming closer anyway.

“that’s fine, don’t tell me. i’ll find you anyway.”

and he did. he always did.

there was some theory about that, you realised as he sat beside you, the tiny space between the reeds barely big enough to hold both of you. some theory about a string of fate tying people together. some greek myth about people originally having four arms, four legs and two hearts, and when zeus split them down the middle, those people spent the rest of their lives searching for their other halves. drawn together by fate and reconnected always. you arm was pressed against his arm and your leg against his leg, and maybe it felt so right because you were cold and he was warm. not because of some silly soulmate theory that didn’t even make sense. because there was also the idea that maybe he’d put a tracker on you, but you had no idea where he would have gotten that. or maybe you were just bad at hiding.

“i’ve been looking for you,” he said.

you tilted your head in confusion. “what? why?”

“well,” were you mistaken, or were his cheeks kind of red? “i kinda hurt myself at training today. and the people in the infirmary told me to grow up and get over it. but honestly, it really hurts and i just wanted to know if you could heal it.”

you rolled your eyes. “always needing something, huh, castellan? is it so much to ask for you to just want to see me?” you hold your hand out and he extends his sword arm, revealing the cross-muscle cut on his forearm.

“i do want to see you,” he protested. “honestly. it’s not my fault that i’m also coincidentally injured whenever i want to see you.”

you couldn’t stay mad at that smile. “coincidentally, huh?” you handed him a small section of ambrosia from your pocket as your fingers ran over the cut, whispering a prayer to your father. you watched as the skin knit itself closed again, leaving not even a scar on his arm. you pulled back with a smile. “there. done. good as new.”

“thanks, doctor. don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“die a horrible death and be left permanently disfigured? to the point where we’d do a closed casket funeral just so we don’t have to look at your ugly face?” you tilted your head with a teasing smile.

he elbowed you. “shut up, loser. you know you love my face.”

and as you woke up, feeling his hand tighten around yours, you realised you kind of did. there was gauze over the cut on his eye and cheek, covering half of his face. and yet, he was still annoyingly beautiful.

“something on my face?” he mumbled as he saw looking, finally awake. “except for this thing, of course.” he gestured to the gauze.

you smiled wanly. “i’m glad you’re awake.”

“missed me?” he half-grinned.

you snort and drop his hand, patting the back of it and standing up to check his bandages. “you wish.”

he was silent as you checked his bandages and reapplied the few that were loosening. then, as you left to go and get the next person to keep an eye on him, he spoke up. “i missed you.”

you paused in the doorway, a small smile growing on your face. you looked back at him. his eyes were earnest and soft. he looked younger like this. “i’ll be back a few hours. we’ll have dinner together.”

you did have dinner together. in fact, you had almost every meal together for the first few days.

it was quiet, mostly. you didn’t ask him what happened and he didn’t tell you. you knew he’d already been interrogated by everyone else. he didn’t need that from you.

annabeth came and joined you a couple of times, chatting about some new architectural design she’d learned about or a new move she’d learned in training.

you realised how alike they were. family in every way that mattered, regardless of blood.

it didn’t take long for luke to start getting annoying again though.

once he’d been in the infirmary for four days, he regained most of his usual personality. and that meant bad jokes, incessant talking and poorly-timed, half-hearted flirting.

“the sun makes your eyes glow,” he said one day. he’d never had much of a filter, so it wasn’t too out of the blue, but it still caught you a little of guard.

you fumbled the supplies in your hand. “sorry, what?”

he was sitting up on his bed now. his wounds were almost healed. two more days and he’d be out of the infirmary. you didn’t know if you were one hundred per cent happy about that.

“your eyes. they glow in the sun.” he repeated.

you paused, glancing over at him. “thank you…?”

he nodded and leaned back, his eyes staying on you.

that was only the beginning.

within five hours he’d complimented your eyes, your skills, your smile and your kindness. multiple times. it got the point where the other two patients in the infirmary had stopped taking you seriously, just complimenting you instead. that’s where you drew the line.

“okay, luke, you need to stop. this is too much,” you said. you were checking his remaining wounds and nodding happily at them.

“what, am i flustering you? are you blushing?” he teased.

you were not blushing at all, you decided. whether it was strictly true or not was between your brain and your cheeks, not your honesty. “you’re annoying me,” you grumbled. “like, a lot.”

“you know you’ll miss me when i go back to my cabin,” he leaned back on his pillows, a smirk on his lips. it warped the scar on his cheek more than you expected, and it made your heart clench every time.

“if i miss you, you have permission to annoy me for the rest of my life,” you grumbled. you definitely wouldn’t miss this.

finally, he was out of the infirmary.

finally, you could work in peace.

finally, you could— oh, what the hell?

“good morning!” luke said as he waltzed into the infirmary. “i’ve injured myself.”

you looked him up and down as you walked closer. “you look fine to me. what did you do?”

“i fell of the rock climbing wall and hit my head.” he turned his head to show you the small trickle of blood above his ear.

you sighed and led him to a bed. you handed him ambrosia as you used a wet cloth to clean his head. “you were meant to take things easy for the first few days.”

“i did!” he protested. “i was only like, twelve feet up!”

you pursed your lips and shook your head. your hand was under his chin now, stopping him from turning his head to look at you. “taking it easy means no rock climbing at all, dumbass. you’ve been out of here for half a day and you’re already back!”

“maybe i like it in here.” he shrugged, pouting slightly, looking up at you.

“maybe i find you really annoying and ban you from coming in here,” you countered.

“you can’t do that,” he gasped.

“watch me, castellan.” you prodded his cheek mockingly. “don’t mess with me.”

his smile wasn’t exactly the response you were looking for, but you found that you didn’t mind it all too much.

luke came into the infirmary almost every two days for the next two weeks.

there was always some new injury that he couldn’t ignore, that he needed to have you heal. he only came in when you were there though, like he knew your schedule off by heart.

he probably did.

his sheepish smile was becoming a fixture of your days and you couldn’t help but smile a little brighter when you saw it. you couldn’t stop your heart from beating a little faster either, and it was annoying.

in the years that you’d been at camp, luke castellan had driven you up the wall. did you hate him? did you love him? how did you love him? how a friend loves a friend? how a doctor loves a patient? how a lover loves a lover? how did you hate him? why? why anything? why nothing? the questions only got worse.

“another minor injury?” you sighed, hearing his footsteps entering the infirmary. you didn’t know when you memorised the sound of his footsteps, or the rise and fall of his breathing while he slept, but you did.

“uh, not exactly…” the weakness in his voice made your stomach drop.

you turned around to see him clutching a bright red wound on his inner arm. he looked pale. that wasn’t a good sign. the blood was still seeping past his fingers. also not a good sign.

you gasped and pulled him to a bed immediately, pushing him to lie down and placing hard pressure on the wound. you could feel him reaching into your pocket and fishing around for ambrosia. once he found some, he ate it quickly and sighed in relief.

“what the hell happened?” you exclaimed.

he shrugged with one shoulder. “sword training.”

“were you training against the fucking terminator?” you took in the other minor cuts and bruises. your voice was unfairly shaky. you didn’t want to get close to losing him again. even just the thought made you feel sick.

his eyes were soft when they looked up at you. you almost dropped all of your anger right there. “i got sloppy,” he said nonchalantly. “i’ll be fine once i get back to normal.”

“this is an artery,” you said. “you could die.”

he didn’t look all that upset or shocked. “i won’t die, baby. i won’t.”

your stomach gave a pitiful lurch at the nickname. “save your energy.”

“is that your doctorly way of telling me to shut up?” he teased.

“yes, it is,” you nodded. “now, shut up while i help you.”

he looked at you like you were hanging the stars in the sky, not tending to him with hands red from his blood.

no one had stopped talking about luke since he got back. the first failed quest in years, with two of the three members dying and the third one permanently scarred by a dragon. not a good ratio.

you often saw luke sitting alone now, and when he was nowhere to be found, you knew where he was.

maybe there was something to the strings of fate theory, you thought as you found him and sat down beside him among the reeds. they were taller now and more dense, but the two of you had carved out a little spot for yourselves over time. your limbs were still pressed against each other though. that was one thing that would never change.

he was turning something over in his hands. a repetitive motion.

you tried to make sense of what it was, but couldn’t.

“it’s a dragon claw,” he spoke up. “the one that did this.” he pointed at the still-red scar on his face. that was why you couldn’t get rid of that one. magic scars never really went away.

you stayed quiet.

“peter distracted the dragon just in time for me to get my sword back. i got the cut, but when i turned back he was getting thrown against the mountainside.” he shook his head bitterly. “he didn’t stand a chance.”

you stared at a dragonfly on a reed in front of you. “knowing my brother, he just would have been happy to be there. and happy that you’re alive.”

he smiled, but it looked forced and bitter. “yeah. he spent the whole time talking about how lucky we were for this opportunity, and how he was so excited to explore beyond camp… and gianna was the same. they were just…” he was fiddling with his camp beads now.

you watched his movements slowly. it was like he’d never been gone, but also like everything had changed. there was a new tension in the air around him. you weren’t sure if it was you or him.

“don’t be resentful,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

“what?” his eyes turned to you. “what do you mean?”

“don’t resent yourself and the gods for this,” you said, leaning a little closer to him and looking away. the dragonfly hadn’t moved—like it was listening. watching. “peter and gianna made their choices. they’re in elysium now. that’s about as good as it gets.”

he pressed his lips together and nodded. “i know.”

maybe there was something to the two hearts theory too, because you could tell he didn’t. he didn’t agree. he didn’t want to. you slipped your hand into his. “you know i’m always here for you, right, luke? i mean, you annoy me—a lot—but you’re still, well, you. and you’re important to me. i’ll always be there for you. if you want to hold hate in your heart, then be my guest. i’ll just have to hold more love in mine to balance you out.”

he was watching your connected fingers as you spoke. his hands were calloused and hard, but yours were softer. less time spent training and more time spent healing. “love for who?”

you, you thought. you didn’t speak.

he turned to look at you. you were already looking at him. “love for me?”

you swallowed tightly. “luke…”

he leaned in closer, until his lips were moments away from touching yours. one wrong move and you’d touch. or was that the right move? was the wrong move pulling away? leaving him alone—again? that didn’t feel fair. but nor did your pounding heart and your flushing cheeks, and maybe you were blushing now, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

then you gave in. that string that connected your souls was pulling you too tight. your lips brushed against his softly at first, and before you could think to move any further, his hand was gripping the back of your neck and pulling you closer, and his lips were pressing against yours with the passion of years of built up tension. you’d never hated him at all, you realised. you loved him the whole time. sure, he was irritating. he was chatty. he was pushy and annoying and never stopped bothering you. but you’d missed his bothering, and you’d missed his smile, and when he pulled away to take a breath, you missed his lips with a fiery need that bubbled up from deep down inside you.

“guess i’ll be annoying you for the rest of our lives then, huh?” he said softly, chest rising and falling against yours.

your eyes were still closed, reeling from the kiss. “wasn’t that a given anyway? i wouldn’t want it any other way, personally.”

when he kissed you again, you decided that the theory about two hearts was, in fact, correct. you met as two, seperate halves in a fucked up world that had you grow up far too fast. you grew as two, finding your places at camp, finding your people, but always finding each other first. you met now as one. four arms, four legs, two hearts, meeting in a tumultuous display of love and desire. and that’s how you wanted to stay. your limbs locked with his, your hearts pounding in sync, your every feeling, every emotion, every sensation making your very soul hum with joy. you’d found him, finally, after years of your hearts waiting for this moment. finally, your two hearts were one again.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #luke castellan x you #charlie bushnell

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flowercrowngods · 9 months ago

Text

based on an idea i had about steve getting a bad migraine from the sudden bloodloss after kas feeds from him

post-canon, steddie don't like each other, hermit kas, depressed brain injury steve, kinda gloomy, anxiety & compulsions

Steve cuts the engine with a sigh, feeling heavy and alien, like a lone survivor in a ghost town. He’s not a lone survivor, and Hawkins isn’t technically a ghost town because there’s still enough of them here to build it back up or to watch it crumble and cave in on itself, front row seats to the fourth wave of destruction.

Maybe the real ghost is Steve, actually, floating through his days just waiting for his brain to decide it’s had enough. Just waiting for the perpetual ringing in his ears to rise in pitch and frequency and for his skull to fucking crack open from the never ending waves of the never ending buzz.

Robin asks him about it a lot, notices how he will stop and listen to his body on every inhale that feels slightly wrong, or every movement that’s just a little too fast or just a little too sudden, the blood rushing into his head or out of it, the doctor’s words ringing in tune with the tinnitus: You watch that head of yours, young man, and do not hesitate to call emergency services when the headache won’t stop after a few hours, or when anything feels off, you hear me?

The truth is, he barely heard him then. Blood was roaring in his ears, the tinnitus still quiet, but his hearing still dull from impact and screams and shock wave after shock wave of the world sewing itself back together.

He sighs again, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel and trying to catch his breath. Taking stock of his head, the heartbeat he can only feel in his hands right now and nowhere near his temples, and the quiet little tap tap tap of his finger nails hitting the leather, wanting to make sure he can hear it. Wanting to make sure he doesn’t imagine the sound.

Always fucking needing to make sure.

Soon, he breathes a little steadier, convincing himself that getting out of the car won’t be the last thing he’ll ever do. It’s so stupid, too, that fear, all that anxiety living inside him just waiting to boil and spill over until he does something stupid just to spite it.

The cool breeze hits his face, working in tandem with his calming breaths to alleviate his obsessive thought spirals, and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he does nothing but breathe for a minute there.

He’s up. He’s standing. He can walk through the forest to the vamp’s hiding place, it’s fine. It’s fine. Although standing so suddenly makes him aware that he hasn’t eaten much today, too busy hating everything about this town and helping to rebuild it anyway.

Forgetting to eat and drink is another thing that’s new to him. There’s quite a few things he forgets a lot, but those are the worst. Robin is always on his ass about that, but at some point he stopped telling her. It feels like he’s stopped telling her a lot of things. Maybe that’s something else that comes with severe brain injury, young man.

He feels plenty guilty about it at least — but not enough to tell her about all the horrible things that are happening to him, or the horrible things he thinks are happening to him. The Upside Down is gone, Vecna is dead. These bad thoughts, they’re all him. But knowing that doesn’t fucking help.

Pushing away from the car and turning around to lock it, Steve decides to wallow in self pity no longer and to just get on with it. As much as he hates it. As much as part of him wants to just go home and claim that he forgot about that, too.

It’s no secret that Steve never liked Eddie. The boy’s a hypocrite, he’s loud, he’s annoying, and he just likes to shame people as publicly as possible, spitting proclamations of conformity and sticking it to the Man while at the same time turning anarchy into despotism under the guise of rebellion — and he’s the dictator.

Or, he was. And Steve never cared about him or his larger than life attitude that was worse than any of the smiles Steve ever wore to fit in in high school. Steve mostly ever just wanted Munson to shut up and eat his lunch, stop pretending he’s better than any of them just because he liked different things.

Although it wasn’t even about liking other things, it was only ever about disliking. And shaming and denouncing. Steve always wondered what kind of a miserable life that dude must have lived, shaping himself not from what he liked but from what he hated. Creating an identity that left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth because it was so fragile and contradictory and, frankly, so fucking annoying.

Still, he’d never wished for Munson to get involved in all of this. He’d never wished for the man to die. And then to come back only to be turned into some kind of vampire, doomed to live an even worse existence than he did as a human, hidden away in some shabby cabin.

Steve feels a little bad for him now. For Eddie. Or Kas, as the kids like to call him because he never reacts to his name anymore, more monster than human these days, although Dustin is sure they can domesticate him into becoming his old self again.

“Like Dart, remember?”

“Dude, don’t compare our friend to your sick little creature.” That was Lucas, affronted and annoyed. Steve could relate, although…

“You gotta admit, he’s kind of a sick little creature himself now.”

“Steve!” they’d both yelled, and Steve just playfully shoved their heads back before going to grab a coke from the fridge.

And Kas, because vampires are apparently a thing even after the end of the world, needs blood to survive. The forests are void of animals most of the time, like nature has decided to give Hawkins an ultimatum before returning and the day hasn’t come yet. Maybe it’s something to do with electromagnetic fields, or maybe it was something else entirely leading them all to safety while Hawkins was turned into a war zone. Either way, there is nothing for him to feed here.

Kas can’t just stalk around the woods at night and drink up a deer or two. Nor can he go rob the blood bank at the hospital, they’re running low as it is anyway. That left them all with only one option that Mike so disgustedly pointed out back then: Kas needs their blood. And Steve feels just bad enough for him to play along.

So now he is out here playing blood bank for the monstrous version of a guy he never even liked, and his hometown is in shambles, and his head might actually sign the fuck off at any moment now, apparently.

Things are going great.

Saving the world is just… really fucking isolating.

Still he has no choice but to announce his presence with a firm knock on the door, the pattern easy but memorable.

“This is Steve,” he adds as his hand falls to his side, waiting.

Kas always takes a while to come out and open the door, hiding away from any noise like a feral cat. Steve can kind of relate — he and Kas don’t have the best relationship either. He has no idea how sudden vampirism works, but just like feral cats will be able to tell when someone wants to hurt them and when instincts should be kicking in, Kas seems to realise how little Steve wants to be here and help him. How little he wants to have his blood sucked out of his body leaving his limbs to feel numb and uncomfortably tingly.

Eventually, though, the door opens with a creek, just enough for a pair of eyes — too large, too wide, too wild — blink back at him. Steve just lifts his eyebrows, really kind of not in the mood to deal with this barely human vampire and his absolute lack of learning curve about this situation.

When he’s sure Kas has blinked at him for long enough now, he pushes open the door and shoves inside rather roughly, immediately feeling bad when he hears the slight whimper.

“Sorry,” he mutters, stuffing his hands into his pockets again and trying not to grimace at the stale, disgusting air in the cabin. “Jeez, you really gotta open a window every once in a while. Thought vamps were supposed to have heightened senses or some shit.”

Kas growls at him, mirroring Steve’s move and shoving past him this time, his shoulder slamming into Steve’s with painful strength. Glowering at the stupid vampire, he rubs at his shoulder before crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Listen, buddy, I can just leave and have you deal with your hunger, okay? No big deal for me, I even get to keep my blood.”

Kas snaps at him, showing his fangs and crossing his arms, too; a laughable copy of Steve’s own stance.

“Or you could just cut the crap and get on with it so I actually can leave again without taking shit from the peanut gallery. Your choice.”

The huff that follows is so indignant, Steve wonders if that could be what gets Kas out of Munson’s body and let the human win over the monster. Maybe indignation and annoyance is what will break the spell eventually, lift the curse just enough for Munson to get back into his old habit of monologising and spouting nonsense out of that big mouth of his.

Steve is half tempted to try, but he really does want to just go home and lie on his large couch with no sensory input whatsoever, tuning out the world and his anxieties that might be about to turn into compulsions just for him to gain a little control over everything again. So he squares his shoulders and takes off his jacket before tilting his head to the side, allowing Kas full access to his neck.

It’s always a little scary but still oddly fascinating, filling him with that same rush that came with witnessing all the supernatural shit over the past few years. Kas is the last remnant of all that, and somehow, buried beneath piles of rubble and trauma and the teenager he had to give up on being, Steve feels weirdly protective of that.

Not of Eddie. Of Kas. Of the monster that lies dormant. Of the last bit of danger in his life, because he doesn’t know how to live without it anymore — so much so that he has to make it up.

Maybe it’s a symptom of his self destructive tendencies, as Robin would call it. But Steve might be as fascinated with the vampire as Robin is with fire; so she doesn’t get to have a say in this.

There is always a strange intimacy in the way Kas approaches him. Slowly, carefully. Like a hunter his prey. Steve doesn’t feel like prey, not really, but a part of him wants to. A part of him needs to be prey again, if only for those instincts that manifest with a perpetual tremor and a restless feeling in his chest to be of use again. If only so he can have a point again. Something to fight that’s outside oh his own head.

Now, his point is standing still entirely and feeling those chapped but warm lips trail up and down his throat a little before Kas finds the right spot that won’t really hurt Steve, the right spot that will make it all go by quickly and without any hiccups.

Still he shivers, like always, and Kas holds him close when he finally bites down. Like always.

He stands motionless as he feels his blood flow alternating, rushing in his ears and his head, his heart thump-thump-thumping, putting up a fight against the strange intrusion. He hardly even breathes at all, focusing instead on his body and burying his finger nails in his palm for five seconds before releasing his hands and repeating the process three times before he gets it right.

But then his head is pulsing, his heartbeat slowing down as his vision briefly blacks out in the same way it does when he gets up too quickly, and his heart falls. It’s too much. Too sudden.

“Kas,” he says, but the vampire doesn’t hear him, drinking more and more of the blood that must be so thick with how little he’s had to drink today — something he only just remembered. “Kas,” he says again, more urgently this time; but still the vampire drinks.

And where before Steve had a clear vision of the door in the dark room — the light of day streaming in through the cracks and framing it almost mystically —, it’s spotty now. Just slightly off. Like something is missing but his brain is working overtime to complete the picture anyway, reducing the blind spot to merely an illusion. But Steve knows what’s happening. He knows what the sudden pulsating of his head means, especially when it’s followed by his vision just going AWOL on him.

No, he thinks as the situation really settles in, and he begins to push Kas away. Not like it matters anyway now; the damage is done. No, no, no, no, fuck!

He frantically shoves at the vampire now, blinking against the blind spot even though he’s painfully aware it won’t help. Kas breaks away from him, wiping his mouth and smearing his face and the back of his hand with Steve’s blood. If he looks just right, he can’t even fucking see it.

Heart falling further, Steve buries his hands in his hair and pulls, hoping that by some kind of miracle he can just pull the migraine out of his head before it can really settle. It’s his only chance. He can’t drive like this, he shouldn’t walk like this, and soon he won’t be able to do anything at all.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” be hisses, hearing the edge of desperation in his own voice and caring very little about that right now.

Kas is on him again in a second, and Steve waves him off, tries to shove him away but the vampire is stronger and persistent.

A high keening sound builds in Kas’s chest, and Steve knows he doesn’t really speak, doesn’t really use his words, ever — maybe he doesn’t know how. But the keening sounds more like a whine, and the way he pulls at Steve to look at him is as much an indicator of worry as he’s going to get.

But Steve doesn’t want Kas’s hands on him, wants to just get out and away before the pain comes. So he takes another step back and holds up his hands, hoping that the vampire will just fucking take a hint.

A little too quickly and a little too frantic, Steve shakes his head, his eyes flitting about the room to see if there’s still pieces of it missing or if phase two is about to start. He has about twenty minutes left before his body will be composed of nothing but skull-splitting pain that is only equal to someone ramming actual nails into his head — and even that would be preferable right noe, because at least that pain he wouldn’t need to explain. Or justify.

Another keening sound interrupts Steve's burgeoning spiral, and his eyes land on Kas, who really looks like a kicked puppy right now.

"I gotta go," he says, voice a little unsteady with apprehension and panic, but just as he's about to rush out of the cabin, Kas crosses his path and won't let him move.

A strong hand lands on his chest, and Steve really, really doesn't want to deal with that right now. He tries again, tries with more force to sidestep and push past him, but Kas won't let him budge.

"Let me go." But Kas doesn't let up. "Kas. Please. You gotta let me go, I gotta get home, I—“

The first flash of white in his peripheral vision catches him off guard, moving his focus away from the clawed hand on his chest and toward the flickering line that cuts through the left side of his vision right now.

Curious or worried or maybe just really fucking stupefied at having Steve act so weirdly, Kas inclines his head and ducks to catch Steve's eyes.

"Move," Steve says again, as assertive as he can manage with his brain and body scattered between following the flickering lights that are invisible to everyone else and the pain that is about to consume him, leaving him incapacitated for several hours at least.

Instead of moving out of Steve's space and allowing him to leave, Kas shoves him backwards with that superhuman strength he has now, forcing Steve to stumble back helplessly. Fear rises in him again, and it's a different flavour this time that mixes horribly well with the anxiety and apprehension and all the waves and waves of blinding panic he feels out of nowhere almost all the time now.

His knees buckle when they hit something rather violently, and then he's falling, landing on the worn couch with a breathless gasp, his instincts running wild. He needs to fight, he needs to run, he needs to get home and be safe and get the fuck away from this monster who won't let him go now. Steve doesn't know Kas as someone who will just take what he wants, but, well, he is Munson, in a way. So that tracks.

But instead of attacking him, instead of going for his neck again and sucking the rest of his blood, instead of beating Steve to a pulp to keep him pliant and unmoving and turn him into some sort of personal livestock, Kas just... sits down next to him. Hands in his lap. Worried look trained on Steve, who needs to catch his breath and calm down.

"Hurt."

It startles Steve. Kas has never spoken to him. But what’s more, Steve shouldn't be that obvious. He doesn't want to be that obvious, especially about hurting and being hurt.

So he shakes his head, his hands coming up to press into his eyes, hoping to get rid of the flickering lights even though he knows that once they stop, the pain will come; and it will come badly.

"'M not hurt," he says, lying through his teeth and the heel of his hand. "I just gotta go home."

"Hurt," Kas says again, and it's more assertive this time, less of a question. Like he's telling Steve rather than asking. Like he's making him understand.

He reminds Steve a little of Robin in that regard, and he almost has to smile. He would, too, if he wasn't so aware that it would become a horrible grimace, wavering and pale even by vampire hermit standards.

So he sighs instead, letting his hands fall into his lap and wringing his fingers. There are about ten, maybe fifteen minutes left. Not enough to get anywhere safe on foot, and he sure as hell ain't driving when his vision is halfway through its rendition of a TV without signal, zig-zagging in white and red and green, flickering and flaring and leaving him a little disoriented even when all he's doing is sitting on that dusty old couch.

"Hurt," Kas repeats for the third time, and Steve tenses, ready to snap at him to shut up, that he's not hurt yet but will be any minute now and that Kas should really just shut the fuck up and leave himself if he won't let Steve go anywhere.

But looking at those wide eyes, he doesn't snap. He deflates. His shoulders fall and his eyes close, which only makes the flickers worse, he feels.

“I’m… I’m gonna have a migraine," he sighs, letting that hang in the air between them, letting the words take up the whole room and suffocate him while he knows that they won't touch Kas. That he won't understand. Nobody does.

It's just a headache, Steve, get over it.

They leave a bitter taste in his mouth, and he's just waiting for the huff to come.

But it doesn't come. Instead, Kas just keeps looking at him; same worried expression, same unobtrusive posture, same everything. Right. He probably doesn't know jackshit about what that's supposed to mean.

So Steve explains. “I, well. I kinda can't really see right now, but that'll pass. That's when the pain comes. I won't want to move. No light. No noise. No nothing. And all I can do about it is wait it out, which is why I need you to let me leave..."

It's one of those moments where he hates that he's the only one of their group with a license; that he can't just radio with a code red and have someone come get him no questions asked.

"I just wanna go home, man," he sighs, hating his voice for the weak whine around the edges.

A beat passes between them, and Steve pretends like he's not counting the seconds. Like he doesn't notice that the flickering zigzag line is getting smaller and dimmer, and that agony is imminent.

"Here," Kas says then, and somehow it's both an offer and a command. "You. Here."

Steve blinks, the words not really translating through the tired fog of his brain.

"Huh? Sorry, uh, what?"

"You," Kas says, shuffling closer to him, like that sort of helps him translate what it is he wants to say.

"Me."

Kas nods, then motions around the room and pats the couch cushion, releasing a cloud of dust from it. "Here."

“You—“ Steve frowns. "You want me to stay here?"

The nod is decisive and in another world Steve would have called it eager, with the way Kas is shuffling on the spot.

"Kas," Steve sighs, rubbing his face, not quite sure how to make the vampire explain that it's gonna be bad. Really, really bad. The flickering shimmer is already waning, and phantom pains are already setting in, settling along his skull like little pinpricks of warning.

A clawed hand reaches for his wrist, making Steve flinch away, but Kas doesn't hurt him. He pulls Steve’s hand away from his face almost gently, slowly, and makes sure Steve looks at him.

"Safe." And he looks so genuine about it. He looks like he knows what that word means. "Safe."

With a sigh, Steve accepts his fate. Kas isn't gonna let him go anytime soon, and at this point Steve really doesn't want to face the gloomy weather outside, stuck as it is somewhere between drizzle and downpour and so endlessly grey for days.

Still he feels pathetic about it. Vulnerable. Exposed. Like a last bastion falling, the castle walls crumbling, the fragile house of cards finally falling, because suddenly this agony isn't something he keeps only to himself.

Even if it's only Kas who witnesses it. Kas, who’s endured worse than that, Steve knows. Brainwashing, manipulation, the agony of shaping human into vampire so excruciating his mind has gone into hiding still.

"Okay," Steve breathes at last, pretending that his voice didn't break on that single word. "Okay."

Kas hums, the sound resembling more a gurgle than anything else, and before Steve knows what's happening, cold hands are pulling him up and off the couch.

"Jesus," he mumbles, barely catching his footing and pulling away from Kas's grasp, but following nonetheless, not even thinking about fleeing now. "I'm coming, I'm coming, man, don't touch me."

Miraculously, Kas does stay away, walking just one step ahead of Steve, turning towards him every two steps to make sure he's still following. It reminds Steve of a mama duck herding her ducklings across the street and making sure they're all still there. It's weirdly endearing.

"Why do you even care?"

He doesn't get an answer, but that's no surprise, and he doesn't really mind either. It was more about wondering, about putting that question out there and letting it take up space for future contemplation.

Kas leads him to an adjoining room, the north-facing windows all barred shut, ripped and moth-eaten curtains drawn to block out the last of the light. Right. Fitting, for a vampire's lair.

The bed in the middle of the far wall is surprisingly large, though, and looks surprisingly soft. It's unmade, but that's just as well. There are no belongings in the room otherwis that Steve can make out, the framed pictures on the wall look as dusty as the rest of the cabin, so they can't belong to Kas. Or maybe he likes them enough to keep them, to claim them as his own now.

It’s a heartbreaking thought.

Stupidly and out of nowhere, Steve wonders if he could take care of this cabin. Dust it and clean it and only fill it with things Kas likes. Maybe things Munson used to like — surely the kids would know how to go about that. Or Wayne.

He's about to ask; about the pictures, about the stuff, about Wayne — if he's been around lately, if he's still telling stories to bring back the dormant Eddie parts of his modified and manipulated mind.

But just as he's about to turn to the vampire and ask, the blinding flickers disappear from his field of vision in the dark room, and within seconds something inside his skull bursts, leaving his body awash with pain that nearly has his knees buckling. A whimper escapes him that he tries to steer into a groan, but then his hands are flying to his head and he stops caring about how he expresses this immediate agony to the world.

Kas is on him again with a whimper, suddenly just as fucking tactile as his once-human form.

“Don’t touch me,” Steve rasps, wrenching himself free from the gasp once more. He really wishes Kas would stop touching him. "You want me to lie down here, yeah? Take your bed?"

Kas nods again, looking at Steve with those wide eyes that seem to glow in the dark — or maybe that's his migraine-addled mind seeing things where they aren't, making up for the blind spot and the flickering.

Steve looks away, the motion hurting his entire face, and he closes his eyes as pins and needles are moving along the inside of his face, pricking up against the skin but never breaking through.

"Right then," he whispers, his voice barely audible and still too loud, making his ears click and pressure collect around them, making him wonder if they're going to burst. "'M gonna lie down."

Struggling with the heavy blanket, Steve is close to giving up and just lying on top of it, but Kas is quick to help him once he realises that Steve needs it. He pulls back the blanket, still looking so damn stricken about everything, like he's genuinely worried about Steve. It doesn't make sense.

He doesn't have the strength for a Thanks or even a smile, but he nods just once, just barely, before sluggishly falling onto the bed and fumbling with the blanket once more. Every movement hurts. Every twitch of a muscle is too much, and just moving his pinkie is enough to douse his body in never-ending pain that travels from his skull all the way down.

Something Steve has always wondered is why migraines make his body shut down like that, leaving him in a state where all he can do is lie down and fall into a near-catatonic limbo until the pain has lifted enough to face the rest of the world again. Fighting inter-dimensional monsters and posing as a feast to demonic, modified monster bats was also agony. It also made him lose his footing and almost pass out from blood loss and pain, his back scratched open completely where the bats dragged him across rough stone.

Migraine pains don't really compare to those, though, and it scares him. Because he knows that's all up in his brain. His fucked up, mangled, thrice-concussed fucking brain he never got cared for because the government goons never took them seriously. Never took him seriously.

And now here he is, lying in a stranger's bed in a pitch-black room that's still somehow too bright, unmoving, too weak to even pull up the blanket, and hoping to pass out from it all. Hoping he won't hallucinate again this time. Hoping that he won't throw up this time, his body convulsing because it knows it shouldn't be feeling like this.

Throwing up from pain. There's really nothing more fucked up than that. Or, there is. Throwing up from pain and begging an invisible man to make it stop, only to realise hours later that the most painful migraines can also make you hallucinate.

He doesn't want that. He doesn't want any of that ever again, and certainly not in a strange, dark cabin with a vampire forged from a human he never even liked.

Tears spring to his eyes, but they're not the kind that'll fall and bring relief. They just stay in the corners of his eyes, his only way to express the waves and flares of pain washing over him, wishing he could just pass out now.

Kas tucks him in. Steve didn’t know he could do that. It strikes him as extremely non-vampiric even in this state he’s in. Steve doesn’t react, doesn’t so much as blink his eyes open as the pain travels up to his hairline and settles there, flaring over his forehead to his eyes and down to his cheekbones and then up again, a never-ending motion that he never stands a chance to get used to.

“Safe,” Kas says again, and it zings through Steve’s body with violent force that doesn’t match at all with the gentle tone he’s using.

Scrunching his forehead to stave off more words, Steve hopes that Kas will take the hint and know to shut up.

But he has no such luck.

“Here.”

“Shhh.” He shakes his head minutely, shushing the vampire with a barely there noise, keeping the damage to a minimal amount. “You can go,” he slurs, trying not to speak at all. “Please.”

A beat of blessed, blissful silence, before there’s shuffling again. Kas does walk to the door, but then stops in the doorway. Steve doesn’t want to look.

“No.” Kas sounds surprised about it. Mystified. Like he wants to leave but can’t.

What?

“Stay. Here.”

Whatever you do, just please be quiet about it, Steve thinks desperately. Instead of saying any of that, he shushes him again, hoping that the thump he hears means that Kas is sitting on the floor now. Though he doesn’t understand why.

Why do you even care?

“Safe,” Kas says again, whispering the word into the room, and it doesn’t zing through Steve this time.

With Kas refusing to leave and his pathetic state of existence so blatantly on display, and with waves and waves as his nerves fire signals to his overworked and tired brain, more tears sprint to his eyes. And this time they fall. Silently, and without a sob, without even a sniffle of acknowledgment. But they fall.

And Steve just wants to go home.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @hammity-hammer (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

part 2 here

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #kas eddie munson #dio words #kas takes care of steve fic #still not sure if this is tumblrable but it shall no longer stay between me and the discord thread girlies

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seobover · 3 months ago

Text

needy jongseob because in my mind he was just an awkward inexperienced guy before he met you !!!

kinda (or very) sub!seob, soft dom!reader, (but a hint at the end that they're both switches) handjob, slight overstim, nicknames, kissing, SO WHINY JONGSEOB, aftercare, reader n seob are the same age

first post kinda nervous 😳 also english isn't my first language so don't bully me

nsfw under the cut

you love the way jongseob looks up at you through his eyelashes. his lips are parted slightly, his gaze full of need, his breath coming out slightly ragged. he's so unbelievably horny, and it's more apparent than ever.

"please," he whispers with a slight whine. "please touch me.."

"needy, aren't we?" you hum teasingly. he lifts his hips up, whining again.

"it's been too long.." he pouts slightly. "and you always make me feel so good."

"yeah?" you hum, moving your hand up his thigh teasingly.

"i'll be good for you, i'll be so good, please, just touch me," he pleads.

he sounds so beautiful, and you can't help but comply. you tug at the waistband of his sweatpants before pulling them down to reveal his erection.

he lets out a soft moan as the colder air of the room hits his exposed skin. he's completely hard, his cock twitching slightly as he waits for your touch.

you smirk at the amount of pre-cum leaking out of him. "i haven't even touched you and you're already making a mess, huh?" you tease.

"i can't help it," the blonde breathes out. "you make me so needy.."

"what do you need?" you hum.

"need you to make me cum," he mumbles nervously, his voice barely audible.

"speak up, sweetheart."

"make me cum, please, i'll be good," jongseob says desperately.

you let out a low, approving hum before wrapping your fingers around his dick. he lets out a breathy whimper, his hips bucking uo needily.

you begin stroking him, your movements slow and teasing at first.

"i'm.. so close already," he moans.

"hold it, baby," you command softly, making him whine slightly.

you speed up your strokes, making him moan loudly. he tries to hold it in, he really does, but you're making it impossible for him.

he lets out pathetic, breathy moans as your skilled movements guide him closer to the edge. his fingers dig into the bedsheets as he tries to hold his release for a bit longer.

"i'll- i'm cumming," he gasps, unable to control himself any more. you don't have time to react before he shoots his sperm out, painting his lower stomach and your hand.

you smirk at the sight of him falling apart, and you continue stroking his spent cock through his release.

he squirms under your touch, the slight overstimulation you're giving him mixing in with the pleasure of his orgasm.

"so sensitive," he whimpers. "kiss me?"

your smirk melts into a soft smile at his request, and you lean down to press your lips on his. the kiss is short but sweet, leaving you both craving for more.

you let go of his now softening cock, reaching for a wet towel you prepared earlier. you clean him up gently, before you press a soft peck on his lips.

"you did so well," you hum softly. he smiles sleepily. "you too," he whispers back.

"don't fall asleep yet, we have to change the sheets," you say with a soft giggle.

"we can change them later," jongseob murmurs, reaching his arms out to wrap them around your waist and pull you close. "want to be close to you," he whispers.

you wrap your arms around him in return, and he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck.

you lay in silence for a few moments before he speaks up. "i'll fuck you so good tomorrow, if you'll let me," he murmurs against your neck.

you chuckle softly. "is that a promise?"

"absolutely. i love you."

"i love you more."

a/n: i don't like my writing here but um. yeah! i haven't written in english in so long.. lmk if y'all enjoyed ^^

this was lowkey soo rushed.. my piwon fanfic writer debut anyway LOL lmk if anyone wants to be moots

#jongseob smut #jongseob x reader #jongseob imagines #jongseob fluff #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony smut #p1harmony imagines #p1harmony hard hours #p1harmony hard thoughts #jongseob hard hours #jongseob x you #kim jongseob #p1h jongseob #piwon smut #p1harmony x you

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lemonsprite · 1 year ago

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𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 || 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐆𝐍! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐓𝐚𝐯)

Summary: Tav finally gets to pet the gods most loveable creatures

Word count: 598

Warnings: none^^

A/N: gn! Tav/reader, sorry to all my above average height baddies reader is smaller than Halsin :(, so much fluff it’s gonna make you vomit I love him!!!!!! Ambiguous relationship? Kinda? If you like squint it can be interpreted as platonic

I LOVE HALSIN IM CRAWLING ON HANDS AND KNEES THROUGH THE DESERT IN SEARCH OF MY BEAR MAN

It was cold.

Very cold.

Night had fallen, shrouding the camp in darkness and you shivered in your bedroll, pulling your one thin blanket closer to your chest in a desperate attempt to garner warmth.

The small campfire next to your bedroll barely emitted any light, the small embers casting a faint orange glow on the nearby damp grass.

You had half a sleep deprived mind to just stick your hands into the dying flame and cuddle up to the warmth.

“Can’t sleep?” Came a low grumble from the cot next to yours.

Halsin turned on his side to face you, his gaze searching your eyes almost concernedly. Part of you wanted to ask him how he was able to sleep in this cold practically shirtless but you bit your tongue, hiding your words.

“…yes.” You said almost sheepishly, embarrassed to be caught despite doing no wrong. “Sorry to wake you Halsin.”

“You did not wake me.” He smiled gently, his grin so soft it melted your heart like butter.

“I was already awake and noticed your plight… is there anything I can do to help?” He offered and you felt yourself involuntarily smiling back, his kind demeanour infectious.

Your face turned pink at his offer, shaking your head softly in reply.

“No, it’s quite alright Halsin you do not need to do anything…”

“Nonsense, yes I don’t need to… but I want to.”

He sat up from his bedroll, even sitting he still towered over you, his head blocking out the soft glow of the moon in the sky as the embers of the fire turned the hues of his hazel eyes brown. Halsin stopped where he sat, looking at you in a silent ask of permission.

He patted the empty space next to him in his bedroll, a clear invitation for you to join him yet something made you hesitate. You’d done very little for Halsin as long as you’ve known him yet here he was giving everything for you and asking for nothing in return. He was kind, too kind, and a nagging voice in the back of your mind told you that you’d never done anything worth while enough to deserve the love and attention of the Archdruid.

Before you could spiral any further, Halsin’s sweet as honey gaze returned you to normality. His smile was gentle, his eyes crinkling, forming wrinkles and it soothed your worries, washing them away like an ocean, Halsin’s soft breathing the ebbing tides and the quiet crackle and pops from the dying fire the lapping waves.

as you scrambled to pull yourself together and climb into bed next to him, Halsin moved his arm to accommodate you before wrapping it around your waist, pulling you closer to his torso.

His chest was like a furnace and if you laid still enough you could feel his heart beating slowly almost in perfect synch with a crickets chirping in the woods surrounding camp.

Your face couldn’t help but heat up once fulling realizing the situation you were in, the tips of your ears turning pink.

A low rumble came from behind you, Halsin’s laugh soothing in your ear.

“You Look Like a radish.” He teased, pulling you impossibly closer till you were flush with his chest.

No words would come out from your open mouth when trying to respond, so instead you elected to look around the sound asleep camp, your eyelids finally starting to droop from fatigue.

“Never hesitate to ask me for anything.” He hummed quietly, his body spooning yours.

“I’d hang the moon for you if asked…”

Sorry it was so rushed at the end TT I just got done with a six hour musical pit practice and I wanted to post this so I rushed it </3

You n’ Halsin rn ^_^

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ohbo-ohno · 7 months ago

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Vampire!Soap with his Sire, Vampire!Ghost (who turned him by force), and their shared captive bloodbag, the Reader. Maybe you’re a Hunter, maybe you’re just unlucky, either way you wind up chained to the floor in their lair and being given just barely enough to be alive and useful. While they’re waiting until you have enough blood to be fed from again, they fuck you while you close your eyes and try not to scream because it just gets them off more. Eventually the longer they keep you the more fond they become, and the more luxuries you’ll be afforded, like a pile of fluffy blankets, a stuffed toy or two, outside time (monitored, of course), and even time without your collar.

~🦋 (yes I’m still alive and I’m still being weird about stuffed animals. Don’t call your autistic kids mature for their age and put them in GAT programs when they’re 9 or they’ll end up like me. Still sleeping with a mountain of stuffies and also being horny about it.)

big big fan of vampire au's where the human's emotions affect the way they taste

ghost likes the spice to your blood when you're afraid, so he likes to make himself as big as possible before he pins you to the ground to feed. he likes to chase you a bit, to give you a chance of escaping so he can taste your devastation when he wraps an arm around your stomach and holds you to him

johnny likes the sweet taste of you when you're coming for him. loves the overwhelming rush of endorphins he can literally taste, always overwhelms you with sensation just before getting you off when he wants to feed. likes to hurt you just a bit while getting you off, scrambles your little brain up until you have no idea what you're feeling (likes to moan in your ear about how much you enjoy it, how he can taste that you like it)

one of the most appealing things to me about captive blood bag vampire au's is the like... necessary aftercare, kinda? like ghost and johnny need you to stay alive, so they might do all sorts of horrible and cruel things to you when they want to feed (ie: whenever they want), but they'll hand feed you your favorite foods and keep you tucked up in a soft nest to rest

ghost in particular takes special enjoyment in bandaging your bites. he's got a sort of fascination with how humans heal (he's old enough that he hardly remembers what it was like to have a scab) and he checks your wounds on an extremely strict schedule. likes to compare your bruises, compare your scars and see how they're healing. never lets you hide from him or try to take care of the wounds yourself - if he did it to you, he's taking care of it too

johnny likes to use you as essentially a body pillow/emotional support human. he gets real needy after he feeds, and you're too weak to try and move away from him, so cuddles post-feeding aren't optional. it's not rare for ghost to find the two of you curled up in bloody sheets - no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to train johnny out of being a messy eater

#dark fic #🦋 anon #ghoap x reader #vampire au #< ????#bo writes

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elliesflower · 2 years ago

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hii, i love your work so much <3 can u write smth about reader and abby (in a pre established relationship) where readers mind just goes completely blank as she stares at abbys arms when she works out or literally does anything and abby notices and fucks her hard and uses her strength to do whatever she wants with reader? would also be nice if u could write smth about overstimulation <3 i know its not a noticeable detail for this req but pls write black!reader bc i am too and need some abby for myself tysm 🫶

what you need [abby anderson]

pairing; abby x black fem!reader

cw; top!abby, bottom!reader, strap-on usage (r!recieving), overstimulation, dirty talk/gendered pet names, kinda leaning on bimbo/subspace territory

an; thank u so much for this request sweetheart! i hope u enjoy, please let me know what u think!! i'm sorry the ending is a little rushed, i've literally been trying to post this for like three weeks lmfao. also i did not proofread this v well so if u see a mistake no u dont <3

tags; @scandalcus @prrimordiais @roarriita

18+ only, mdni!!!!

you don’t consider yourself weak.

but when you were looking at abby, perhaps you were. just a bit.

“babe? the chalk,” abby’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you shook your head slightly, as if it would get rid of them, reaching behind you to grab the chalk before crossing the room to hand it to her.

“thanks,” she didn’t even look at you, and you almost huffed. you’ve been with her at the gym for what feels like hours now, even though it’s probably only been more like thirty minutes. you started out just walking on the treadmill, but got bored pretty quickly when you realized you could be watching your girlfriend train instead.

she was training for a pr on her deadlift, and she was getting close. you’d barely seen her this week—when she wasn’t on patrol, she was in the gym. you fell asleep before she got home almost every night, and when you woke up, she was already gone. it was driving you crazy, and now that you were together, she still was barely paying you any mind.

she rubbed the chalk between her hands, clapping them out on her thighs before positioning herself behind the bar. you sat back down behind her and watched as she bent over, gripping the metal bar, her forearms flexing as she adjusted her grip. you practically had to wipe the drool away from your mouth as you watched her begin to lift, admiring the way her veins popped out from beneath her skin, her shoulders glistening with sweat as her muscles flexed with the effort it took to lift the weights.

her brows were knit together in concentration as she watched herself in the mirror, gritting her teeth together and keeping her breath as controlled as possible. you couldn’t help but to feel flustered as she panted, imagining the sounds in a…much different context.

the sound of the weights clattering to the ground snapped you out of your head for a second time, and you flinched, watching as abby smiled at herself in the mirror, flexing and slapping her bicep.

“yeah, that’s right,” she spoke, and oh, that sounded eerily similar to her bedroom voice, “that’s what i’m fucking talking about! did you see that shit?” she turned to face you now, still grinning from ear-to-ear. “beat my pr by forty pounds, i gotta get manny in here tomorrow to verify because that shit is going up on the board.”

you smiled up at her, nodding—but it was kind of hard when you were also focused on pressing your thighs together, trying to ignore the fact that somewhere along the line, your panties had become damp, sticking delicately to your folds as you watched abby training. her mouth twitched just slightly at the corner, and you swallowed. you knew abby could read you like the back of her hand, no matter how hard you tried to hide from her.

“something wrong, baby?” she asked, feigning concern. her tank top was covered in sweat around the neckline, her forehead glistening under the fluorescents as she walked toward you. you shook your head, a bit too quickly, and it was telling. your throat felt dry, your brain absolutely scrambled as you looked up at her. she stopped directly in front of you, towering over you so that you had to strain your neck to look up at her. if there wasn’t a giant wall of windows to the left of you, you couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t just sink down to your knees and kiss her fucking feet. she looked like an angel—scratch that, god—above you as you watched her through your lashes, stomach tying in knots.

she wasn’t saying anything. she was just looking at you, breathing heavy, with half of that stupid smile still on her face. you focused your own breathing, in and out, but it didn’t help that she was so close you could smell her, sweaty musk that could only smell good on her, and it was making you dizzy. and she fucking knew it too.

“alright then,” she said finally, bending down to your level so that your faces were mere inches apart. “what d’you say we go clean up and meet jordan and leah for dinner?” oh, right. there was that. you could only nod, and abby’s eyes were wild, flickering down to your mouth before meeting yours again.

“let’s go.” her voice was sharp, commanding, and she went to retrieve her gym bag. you sat silently for another moment, trying to will yourself to calm down, just a bit. you knew you’d get back to the room and she wouldn’t be able to resist—she’d have you pinned up against the wall before you could even blink.

except, she didn’t. she tossed her bag to the ground and began gathering things for her shower, effectively ignoring, even as you changed out of your shirt extra slowly, just waiting for her to turn around and catch you. but she didn’t, and didn’t even say another word as she slipped out the door to take a shower. you scrunch your brows together, lips pouting slightly as you get dressed for dinner, making sure to put on a clean pair of underwear. you were so worked up, part of you wanted to touch yourself, right here and now—but you didn’t even want to think about how long abby might make you wait if she came back and found you knuckle deep in your pussy. so you didn’t.

dinner with leah and jordan was pleasant. leah’s cooking was insane, as always, and jordan and abby caught up on some big assignment that was coming up, still paying you little attention. after dinner, you were excited to get back to your room, practically salivating at the thought of what abby might do to you, but jordan just had to suggest watching a movie. and of course, abby just had to agree.

you were a bit surprised when abby pulled you onto her lap on the couch, seeing as she had practically been avoiding you like the plague since the gym, and oh—she was packing.

leah rested her head on jordan’s lap on the loveseat beside you, their bodies conveniently angled just so that you were out of view. your eyes widened, breath hitching as abby snaked her arm around your waist, pulling you further back into her as she readjusted her position against the couch, effectively grinding her hips up into you. you bit your lip as you leaned back into her, glancing over at leah and jordan to confirm they couldn’t see you. she smelled like pine and her hair was down, fuck she looked so good with her hair down.

“wassa’ matter babe?” abby whispered against your neck, and you shivered. “you’re so tense.” she punctuated her point with a hand on your shoulder, her thumb pressing into the junction of your neck.

“nothing,” you lied, trying to keep your voice quiet and steady. “just watching the movie.” and thinking about abby flipping you over and railing you into next week. but you didn’t say that part. you didn’t even know what movie was playing.

“mhm,” she murmured behind you, her hand trailing around your middle to meet her other, pressing you even further against her. you could feel her cock pressing into your ass, and you had to bite back a moan. you reached to grasp at her wrists, your fingers not even wrapping around the girth of them, trying to grind your hips for just a little bit of friction—anything, you’d take anything you could get at this point—but she only tightened her grip, halting your movements.

“stop squirming,” she said quietly. “m’trying to watch the movie.” it was really unfair, how her voice was so steady, and her breathing so even. meanwhile, you thought you might explode, nails digging into her skin as you tried your best to ignore the heat in your stomach, and how you were definitely ruining this pair of panties as well.

she held you like that, for a few minutes longer, or hours, maybe, how long was this fucking movie? your pussy was clenching and unclenching, your heart beating out of control as you tried to ignore the feeling of abby beneath you to no avail.

suddenly, thankfully, she relinquished her hold on your waist, smoothing her hands down the expanse of your bare thighs.

“hey, i’m getting pretty tired. i’ve gotta be up pretty early, i think we’re gonna turn in,” she said over the movie, and jordan craned his neck to look at the pair of you standing up. you really hoped your face didn’t give away how insanely flustered you felt. leah was passed out in his lap, and he gave you both a nod and bid you goodnight.

in the hallway, abby was back to ignoring you. you could barely keep up with her as she strode ahead. you were aching at this point, genuinely surprised you weren’t leaking straight down your thighs as you watched her back muscles flex beneath her shirt. you loved this game. and she knew it too.

she stopped just outside your door, leaning against the frame and crossing her arms as she waited for you to unlock it. before you could get both feet through the doorway, she was right behind you, chest pressing against your back as she ushered you inside, closing the door behind her and spinning you around so that she could press you against it. you gasped, flattening your palms against the door as you looked at her, your head trapped between her arms. you burned under her gaze, stomach tightening and legs going weak.

“don’t think i didn’t see your face in the mirror while i was training,” she said quietly, grabbing the back of your neck to keep your eyes on her. you were so fucking horny you didn’t have the semblance to be ashamed as she all but taunted you.

“hm? just watching me work out gets you all hot and bothered?” you felt like your neck might snap from nodding so hard. abby laughed quietly at you, the sound only turning you on more.

“yeah i know, because you know i could take you any way i wanted and you wouldn’t even have to lift a finger. so fucking spoiled,” she was teasing you, and you whined. “you’ve been so patient with me this week,” she pressed her lower half against you, using her hand to press the side of your face into the door, making you once again aware of the silicone cock in her pants. she could feel your pulse thrumming against her fingers, exciting her. “gonna make it all better now, okay? i’m gonna give you what you need…” her lips were ghosting over your ear, and you were quite literally trembling in her grasp, taking in a shaky breath as you waited patiently.

“so good for me,” she grabbed you by the jaw, before she placed a kiss on your lips and pulled back, causing you to let out a pitiful whine.

“tell me what you want,” her lids were heavy as she looked at you, her poor, poor baby—lips parted, eyes glazed over, panting with a desperate need. you pouted slightly. surely she’d give in, right? she’s already had you waiting for so long.

she gripped your jaw tighter, making you gasp as she pressed you further into the door. you were helpless, completely at her mercy, her strength always hyper evident when she had you like this. “c’mon, tell me what you want.” you felt tears welling in your eyes, balling your hands into fists as she watched your face.

“use me,” your voice broke through, small and weak. somehow, abby’s face remained stoic, though you saw her draw in a sharp breath. she pulled her hand away to tap at your cheek, not quite a slap, but enough that you were whining.

“manners,” she reprimanded, withdrawing her hand completely. you let a tear fall as you were overcome with frustration, emptiness–

“please, use me, please abby, i missed you,” and it was pathetic, how a sob escaped your lips. but it was okay, because you knew she’d make it all better, her eyes going soft for a moment before she was pulling you in, slotting your lips together in a messy kiss. you could taste as your tears mixed with saliva, letting her suck your tongue into her mouth before trailing her hands down to your ass, grabbing a handful and squeezing.

“jump,” she mumbled against your lips, and you obliged, letting her pull you in as you wrapped your legs around her waist. she carried you across the room with ease, and you couldn’t help but try to press deeper against her lower half.

“so fuckin’ pretty baby,” she mumbled against you, and she was setting you down on the table. “was so hard to not to just bend you over that couch and fuck you like you deserve,” oh god, oh fuck, you were moaning against her mouth, letting her hands find the hem of your shirt before she was pulling it off over your head, exposing your breasts.

“bet you’d like that, hm? letting me fuck you in front of our friends, show them how dirty you really are?” she rasped, her voice holding a desperate edge. you whined at the notion, the fact that she was just as desperate for you as you were for her. you nodded pathetically as she rubbed a thumb across your sensitive nipples, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as you gripped the edge of the table.

she dipped her head down, swirling her tongue over one of your nipples and you threaded your fingers through her hair, gripping tightly as your head fell back in ecstasy, mouth falling open in a silent moan. she kissed her way back up to your mouth as you panted heavily. she wasn’t even teasing you, she was so desperate, the heat radiating off her body as she continued messily kissing up to your neck, your jaw, back to your mouth where she parted your lips with her own, fumbling with the button of your jeans.

“yeah, i know baby, i know,” her voice was like velvet, scratchy and soft at the same time against your lips. “just need me to take care of you, huh? that it?” she was practically manhandling you to lift your hips up and pull off your pants and panties, your tailbone connecting rather harshly with the wooden table once you were exposed—you didn’t have the semblance to be embarrassed at how it barely even hurt as your body was overwhelmed with adrenaline, with desire, with abby.

“yes, god,” you threw your head back, wrapping your legs around her waist to draw her in closer as she sucked a fresh mark into your neck, and then another, and another, leaving you grinding helplessly against her, your wetness allowing you to rub your clit directly against the bulge in her pants. your whining was pornographic, desperate and loud, the friction clouding your mind with ecstasy. “missed you so much, abs, please–”

“fuckin’ needy,” she gritted, pressing on your lower back to get you even closer, eliciting a gasp from your mouth as you clutched onto her shoulder with one hand while the other kept you steady on the table. “barely been a week and you just need it that bad, can’t even wait for my cock?” her words were filthy, and your grinding even filthier, desperate and rough, like you were a bitch in heat—abby’s strong arm was keeping you in place as you took your pleasure, the feeling overwhelming your body as you panted and gasped, and oh, since when were you able to cum this fast? “c’mon baby, that’s it– take what you need, i got you.”

it must have barely been five seconds before you were losing it, body tensing as your hips stuttered, feeling your wetness absolutely drenching the front of abby’s pants. “oh m’godm’godfuckingchrist–” you babbled incoherently as she held you through it, murmuring praises and trying to hide her own groans by biting down into your shoulder. your used clit was puffy and sore against the rough fabric of her pants as you came down, whining as abby reached between your bodies.

“such a fucking good girl, my god,” she praised, giving you no time to recover as she ran her fingers through your slick folds. you moaned, your thighs closing around her arm instinctively as she explored your wetness, slipping two fingers inside with ease.

“abby, s’too much, please,” your voice was pitiful, broken and whiny as you gripped her arm, your words inconsistent with the way your walls fluttered around her fingers as she opened you up, unable to resist her, even when it felt like too much—because you know it wasn’t too much. in fact, maybe it wasn’t enough. abby knew your body, exactly how you needed to be taken apart, brought to your peak and taken care of.

“yeah? you don’t want this then?” she taunted, and took her fingers out so that she was just teasing your entrance.

“no!” you gasped, the empty feeling making your stomach twist, tears streaming down your face. “please, i- i can take it, please, i’m sorry,” you begged, would practically say anything or do anything at this point. but you knew abby wouldnt make you wait long, smirking at you before pressing her fingers back in just as quickly as she’d pulled out. she couldn’t resist you, especially after not having you for an entire week.

“i know you can baby, such a good girl,” she was working her fingers into you rapidly now, determined to make you come on her fingers again before she impaled you on her strap.and it wouldn’t take long, what with your sensitive cunt being abused again. you were shaking, could feel your wetness pooling beneath you, ruining the table as you moaned and panted. “c’mon, let go for me baby, let go,” her voice washed over you, started as the sweat on your hairline until it was making your stomach twist, your thighs tremble and your toes curl, your pussy gushing out for the second time already that night.

“fuck,” you whined, clenching desperately around nothing as she pulled her fingers out of you, digging your nails into her shoulder as she ran a finger over your swollen clit again, making you gasp out her name, broken and pitiful. your heart was beating out of your chest, watching abby draw her fingers up to your mouth. your lips parted automatically, allowing her to press her fingers in, pressing down on your tongue as you sucked your juices off of her.

“yeah, that’s it,” she breathed. “clean up your mess baby.” so full of love and adoration, but she wanted more. you could see it in her eyes as they flashed something wild, and knew she wasn’t planning on stopping. watching your pleasure was doing something to her she couldn’t even explain, practically moaning at the sight and feeling of you sucking on her fingers.

you were tired, your multiple orgasms after a dry spell catching up to you quickly, and abby could sense your sudden change in demeanor—your eyes drooping slightly as you sucked lazily on her fingers, your index finger holding onto one of her belt loops to keep you upright. you were a sight, your juices spilled all over the table, your thighs sticky and messy with your arousal. she almost took pity on you, almost. but she knew her good girl could take just one more.

and you knew it too, what with the way she was looking at you. the thought made you feel dirty, and made you moan around her fingers, grasping on her wrist as you started sucking on them just a little bit harder, that little flame in your tummy igniting once more. you watched abby’s eyes darken as you sped up, her chest rising and falling quicker as she felt your tongue wrapping around her fingers.

“oh m’god, baby,” she groaned, and she withdrew her fingers, a string of saliva dribbling down your chin as she shuffled backwards to undo her pants. “i gotta fuck you baby, gotta give you what you deserve,” she was rambling as you leaned back on your elbows, your legs twitching as the cool air washed over your damp pussy, on display for your girlfriend. “gonna give you this cock baby don’t worry.”

“please abby,” and unspoken was please take care of me, please fuck me, please do anything you want to me, and she would. there was no doubt. you could barely see the black silicone spring free from down the line of your body as you were laid back on the table.

“i know baby, i know,” abby gripped your hip with one hand, her blunt nails digging into the flesh with a delicious sting, and you tried to pull back when the tip of her strap brushed over your over-sensitive clit. it made your brain all fuzzy, your whole body tingling with the over-sensitivity, the push and pull of wanting more but feeling so used. “just let me in, you can take it,” she was practically cooing, teasing your entrance as you writhed on the table, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to watch.

“abby!” you cried as she pushed past the tight ring of muscle, your back arching so that you sat up higher, the angle pressing her cock right against your most delicate spot. abby’s hand immediately came around to your back, holding you up before you dead-weighted and hit your head on the wooden table.

“i got you, angel, you’re okay,” she was mesmerized, watching the way your body responded to her. you were so fucked out, the feeling of her cock stretching you out making you whine and pant and feel so fucking dirty. “c’mon baby, sit up. hands around my neck, you can do it,” she was pulling you up, and you obliged, reaching up to wrap your arms lazily around her neck. she snaked both arms around your waist and lifted you up off the table, causing you to cry out and bury your face into her neck.

“that’s it, just relax,” she kept herself nestled deep inside you, almost pressed against your cervix when you wrapped your legs around her waist and whined pitifully, the sound muffled by abby’s shirt. her hands snaked down to your ass to keep you spread open as she held you still and began to thrust slowly up into your sore cunt.

“oh m’god abby, jesus,” you cried as she fucked into you with seemingly no effort, your wet pussy making obscene noises each time she pulled out. you were already teetering right on the edge, and the feeling of her cock filling you up was going to be your downfall. she groaned each time she felt you tensing in her grip, and she was faltering with her own arousal.

“such a good fucking girl,” she was almost growling, and you were so close, so fucking close, your juices dribbling out indecently around her as she fucked you to overstimulation. “taking everything i give you…is my pretty girl going to come again for me? hm?” you could do nothing but nod as abby bounced you up and down on her thick cock, desperate to bring you to your release.

“well c’mon then,” she whispered against the side of your face and your eyes rolled back into your head as your pussy tightened around her, nearly suffocating her with your arms as your body was overwhelmed by your third orgasm of the night. a broken mantra of abby abby abby abby spilling from your lips as you tumbled over the edge again.

“that’s it baby, fuck,” abby’s voice was almost as broken as yours, pulling you closer into her hips as you cried into her shoulder.

“my fucking best girl.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #abby x you #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby anderson x y/n #tlou pt 2 #the last of us part 2

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shares-a-vest · 9 months ago

Text

@steddielovemonth Day 25: Love is… Asking, “Do you want a blanket?” (Prompt by @thefreakandthehair)

wc: 952 | Rated: T | cw: Hospital setting, mild descriptions of injuries and general hospital stuff, physical pain, one mention of blood

Tags: Post-s4, Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, Hospital

'Hospital Blankets'

“Steve? Hey, Steve?”

Steve is pulled out of a restless slumber by Eddie’s stage whispering. A twinge in his back fully rouses him as he remembers exactly where he is – in Hawkins General, bent up like a pretzel on what is quite possibly the world’s hardest chair, wearing nothing but a hospital gown and his underwear. He blinks harshly, his vision blurry as he looks in the direction of the chattering, dark-headed form lying in the bed in front of him.

“Huh?” he grunts, his voice thick with sleep as he becomes very much aware of the overall pain radiating over his whole body.

His throat burns too, even from a single word. He instinctively reaches a hand up to the reddened scar there – already a formed habit – only to scratch himself with his patient wristband.

“Do you want a blanket?” Eddie continues, his weakened voice indicating he is barely conscious, let alone aware of Steve’s discomfort.

Steve arches his back this time but it causes his chewed-up sides to ache, the bandages stiffening and contorting. Their tacky borders pinching at the already tight skin and scar tissue.

He gives up and slumps back in the chair, clutching the armrests for dear life as a twang shoots directly up his spine to his head. He runs a hand through his hair, impossible to keep from flopping in his face considering all he can do is give himself a goddamn sponge bath these days.

He should have just listened to Robin (and more than a few disgruntled nurses) when they begged him to stay in his own room.

But his room feels empty. Big and dark, just like his family home but a little more white and clinical smelling. It gives him nightmares. If he manages to settle enough to sleep that is…

It’s kinda hard when your friends are scattered throughout the bowels of the local hospital, all in varying states of distress meanwhile, outside the world has half caved in.

“Steeeve,” Eddie whines this time as he repeats, “Do you want a blanket?”

He half dry-sobs his query and Steve has no choice but to shimmy upright – thankfully, the slippery cover of his stupid seat helps him up this time.

Blanket… he finally considers and finds himself stifling a shiver.

He didn’t think to bring a blanket with him as he was much too focused on getting out of bed and down the hall to Eddie’s room. A room that is much colder than his own, which the occupant clearly knows.

Eddie’s fist is balled up in his blankets, offering them up as he raises his shaky arm.

“No,” Steve says softly, shaking his head and waving him away.

Eddie needs it more.

With a herculean effort, Steve moves the chair a few inches closer to the bed, hoping it isn’t scraping the floor or tangling up any of the wires and tubes hooked up to beeping machines – god knows where they each begin and end. His sides all but seize up as he sits back down and forces himself to correct his posture.

“But you’re cold,” Eddie frowns, his voice impossibly small.

“I’m fine,” Steve protests.

Eddie’s weak hand punches at his banket in a haphazard swish motion.

“Get into bed with me…” he mumbles, closing his eyes, “Rest with me, sweetheart.”

His head lolls to the side and Steve huffs out a laugh. Eddie is certainly on one hell of a cocktail of meds, mixed with the overall exhaustion that must come from almost dying. Steve can barely keep his own eyes open and he wasn’t anywhere near as close to it.

His heart thuds in his chest as thoughts of Eddie’s almost lifeless body rush back to his sleepy brain.

Dustin’s sobs… Robin scrambling to tear up clothes and sheets from the Upside Down version of the Munson’s trailer to make bandages… Nancy forcing everyone to focus as she devised a game plan, stopping every few moments to shoot down undead bats…

Steve screws his eyes shut and stands, bracing his arms on the sides of the chair before swiftly moving them to the bed for purchase.

At least Eddie’s right side is a little less banged up – but only just enough, Steve thinks as he hikes back the three warm layers of blankets enough to sit himself down on the bed. He swings his legs up next, clenching his jaw as every muscle in his body aches and pains from what transpired however many days ago.

The bed is a tight fit, but Steve doesn’t mind. The mattress is perhaps a fraction more comfortable than the chair, but he soon warms as he settles down and rights the blankets, smoothing them out for good measure and double-checking he hasn’t disturbed Eddie too much.

His body warms almost instantly as he rests his head beside Eddie’s on his pillow, positioned close enough that he can feel frizzed dark curls tickling his cheek. Eddie’s wispier than he expected and smells of the generic hospital soap – but at least the dried and caked-up blood is gone.

“That’s good…” Eddie coos, turning his head to face Steve, those tickling tendrils now replaced with a soft woosh of his breathing.

He can see the scar on Eddie’s cheek now. The bandage patch has been removed, exposing raw stitches today. Steve sighs, relieved by the smallest of steps forward.

Eddie can’t do much more than reach his hand out. And Steve takes it, interlacing their fingers despite the heart monitor clipped onto Eddie’s right index finger.

“Blanket’s... warm…” he mutters, nodding as he feels slumber tugging at him once again.

Eddie hums in agreeance and lightly squeezes his hand.

#i'm baaaaack (to posting - i've been sprinting my heart out)#big thanks to sandy for checking in and sending the positive vibes that got me back to writing 💖💖💖#steddielovemonth #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #healing steddie #(now lets see if i can remember my new tagging system)#tw hospital #tw medical #tw blood

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da-shrimping-station · 8 months ago

Note

I really liked your headcanons about the seraphim’s!

Please tell us if you have more, no need to rush, take your time answering this. You can reply once you get new ideas ☺️☺️

hiii! im glad you appreciate the headcanons 💕

you're in luck cuz i had a longer list and just posted some of it first cuz i wasn't sure if it will be well received

lemme post the rest of it here!

and i got some angst lmaoooo

Part 1

more sleepy seraph cuddle pile headcanons:

at first they each had their individual mattresses and they pushed it all right beside each other but in the end they got one big mattress to accommodate everyone (especially Raphael's wiggling around)

at some point they all got tired of Raphael's moving around that they burrito'd him in blankets (he does not like it unless Lucifer is the one doing it)

if Lucifer catches Gabriel getting up to pray, he offers to have a quiet conversation instead until they both fall asleep (Gab would get carried away talking and not notice that Lucifer had already tapped out but he just smiles and goes to sleep)

there are times when those little angel mochis come up to add to the cuddle pile

RIP any angel mochi that end up in Michael's arms (most of them don't survive his death grip of a hug)

they've tried tying Michael's hair when he sleeps but it's too soft and silky that whatever scrunchie they use slips off during the night

Raphael rolling off the mattress is considered normal (honestly im glad they sleep on the floor cuz have y'all heard how a body drops from a bed onto the floor? that shit wakes me up in a panic no matter what)

since they can't always stop Gabriel from his nightly bullshit, Michael gave everyone sleeping masks (but it's still no match for Gab's halo especially when he makes it shine brighter on purpose because fuck you Michael)

whenever Lucifer is the last one to fall asleep, he goes around tucking everyone in properly (loosening Michael's grip, making sure Gabriel is fast asleep, untangling Raphael from the blankets and righting his limbs and wings) before going to sleep himself

HAVE SOME ANGST!

everyone had trouble sleeping after Lucifer fell

so much so it took a long while for the three of them to sleep in the same space together again

at that point, they swapped out the big mattress for the individual ones like before

they all get pissy and snappy towards each other (Michael especially) whenever the mood is particularly sour that night

they fall asleep out of exhaustion more than anything, barely acknowledging each other before going to bed and after waking up

their nightly habits didn't stop but they don't do it as much since they aren't that comfortable when sleeping anymore to the point it kinda mellowed out

in the end they slowly got used to Lucifer's absence

sometimes Michael drapes his wings over the others like how Lucifer used to (they notice but won't say anything and it's not like Michael will admit to it when confronted)

#shrimpy asks #what in “hell” is bad?#prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#what in hell is bad #whb #whb headcanons #whb lucifer #whb gabriel #whb michael #whb raphael

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bucketslutz · 3 months ago

Text

Don't Be Late, Chapter 6

(Professor!Logan Howlett x F!Student!Mutant!Reader)

Click here for chapter index.

Chapter Summary: The aftermath.

A/N: Hiiiii, im backkkkk!! sorry for the unintentional hiatus, this chapter took me ages to write. But i honestly feel really good about it! after i posted the last chapter, i was worried that i might've rushed the slow burn slightly, but i hope that this chapter puts things on the right path. enjoy!!!

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, fingering, making out, grinding slightly, nightmares

Word Count: 6,844

Chapter 6

Eyes slowly blinking open, you register the faint sound of talking echoing throughout your house. You adjust to your surroundings, naked in your bed, claw marks in your mattress; the events of the night before come rushing back into your mind. Logan. The rain. Your powers—his powers. Oh god, what did you do? The bed’s cold. He must’ve already gone downstairs, his voice being the one you recognize carrying through the halls of your home. Is he embarrassed? Does he regret it? You can’t stew with these ideations all morning. Sitting up, you throw your feet off the side of the bed, slipping a robe on before descending down your stairs. You overhear the tail end of Logan’s conversation with someone you assume he’s talking on the phone with.

“I’m working on it—I gotta go,” he says quickly into the phone. You come upon his bare back as he stands in your kitchen, clad in nothing but his jeans from the night before. He turns around to face you, stuffing his phone in his pocket and offering you a tight-lipped smile. There’s an air of awkwardness hanging between you two, neither one sure of who should say something first. Should you go hug him? Give him a kiss good morning? Should you talk about it?

“Still dunno what you did with my underwear,” he remarks dryly, breaking the silence. An awkward chuckle escapes your throat. You could still cut through the tension with a butter knife. An idea crosses your mind, an attempt to relieve the pressure that’s built in the room.

“I-uh, wait just a second,” you hold up a finger, crossing to your fridge. You had honestly forgotten that you kinda disintegrated his boxers last night. Typically, you don’t find yourself in this kind of situation—having to find a way to reconstruct an object for someone after taking it apart. You fish through your fridge for one of your protein shakes, exhaling a satisfied hum once you set your sights on the chocolate drink. Holding up a finger to Logan yet again, you chug the shake swiftly while he looks at you incredulously.

“The hell are you—“ he starts, but he’s cut off when you manifest his boxers back on his body, Logan lowering the waistband of his pants to confirm that you did, in fact, do that.

“Sorry, powers use up a lot of calories,” you huff, panting from the drink you just downed in a few seconds.

“Oh.”

There’s more tension in the air. You wipe the chocolate off of your upper lip, wondering what he could possibly be thinking. He was so passionate last night, you would’ve never thought that he would say anything the way he did—never thought for even a second that he even felt that way about you. It was almost overwhelming, the rush of all of those feelings, the rain, the revelation of both his and your powers. Did you rush into this?

“Logan, I—“

“Look—“

You overlap with each other, letting the silence overcome you both again.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” you ask Logan, trying to hide away in an attempt to preserve your feelings.

“No, you can go,” Logan retreats as he crosses his arms over his bare chest. You smile nervously, unsure of how to word what you’re feeling.

“Um, well,” you start, “What I was going to say is: I think I need a little bit of space. I just—a lot happened. I don’t know if I was thinking properly. I just don’t know if we got caught up in the moment or—“ you shake your head, shutting your eyes tightly as you try to word this carefully. “Logan, what we did—what we’re doing, it’s serious. I don’t know if I’m ready for something like this, or if we should even be doing this.”

You can’t help the lump that forms in your throat, unsure if it’s from anxiety or from how painful it is to admit that to him. You just want your degree. This…thing you have with him could threaten that. He’s stoic, taking you in carefully. You start to speak again, wanting to clarify your words, but he finally talks.

“I was gonna say the same thing,” he replies simply, clearly not wanting to show any sign of emotion. That honestly makes you more nervous. Did you upset him? Is he disappointed?

“Logan—“

“I’ll, uh, get my things and head out,” he walks past you and starts towards the stairs, hesitating before ascending, “And don’t worry, we can just pretend like this never happened.”

You try to go after him, to clarify. It hurts you that he thinks you want to forget it. As much as a part of you would like to, you don’t think you can. But he’s already halfway up the stairs. You huff as you lean back against your kitchen counter, thoughts racing with a mixture of regret and excitement. How are the two of you supposed to just forget about this? Is forgetting this whole ordeal for the better? Logan’s rapid descent down the stairs pulls you from your thoughts, he slips his boots on as you cross over to him.

“Logan, I don’t think we can just forget this.”

“Not a matter of can or can’t, we have to,” he replies, rather curtly, picking up his leather jacket that was discarded on the floor during last night’s escapade.

“Can we at least talk about it?” you level, but he’s set on how he feels, it seems. This was a mistake.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You said it yourself, we got caught up in the moment. Sorry for comin’ here, won’t happen again.” And with that he breezes past you and out the door, not saying a word to you when he hops in his truck and drives away. You thought getting drinks with him was bad, but this might just be your worst nightmare.

…

You toss and turn in your bed, struggling to find comfort in your sheets with your mind racing the way that it is. What a braindead decision. Why did you do that? Why didn’t you consider the implications of him knowing everything about you? How are you supposed to look him in the eye on Monday? Groaning in frustration, you dig the heels of your palm in your eyes, trying to will the thoughts of regret away. There’s nothing you can do now. Your feelings for each other are out in the open. You can’t hide behind faux timidity, Logan will see right through it. All you can do is face the reality of the situation: you just fucked your history professor, who is a mutant like you, and dreams the same vivid sex fantasies you do. It’s bizarre to think of it that way, almost feels fake.

Eyes feel heavy, but you don’t dare shut them. You fear going to sleep now, worried that another dream might happen and the two of you will have to see each other after knowing what happened in your subconscious. Would your consciousness meet you there this time? Would you just be a puppet to whatever the dream wills to happen, or will you see him with lucidity? You don’t know. But you can’t fight sleep much longer.

Bright white light blinds you, its fluorescence humming from above. You’re barely conscious, weak, skin cold from the icy metal you lay upon. You don’t know where you are. You can barely move with the restraints at your wrists, ankles, waist, head. But even if you could get up, you feel faint. Like your body has been sucked of every nutrient save for the bare minimum you need to be alive. Men in surgical gear hover above you, goggle-shrouded eyes looming at you hungrily. You would panic but your body doesn’t have the energy to. Equipment comes to view in your peripheral—needles and tubes with strange liquids. Beeping and muffled talk of dissections and extractions is all you can hear, barely able to tell what they’re really saying.

“She might not survive the procedure, she’s barely hanging on as is,” one of them says, their tone hushed but stressed.

“He gave orders. Prep the IV,” another voice commands. Immediately following his direction, the sharp stab of a needle hits your skin. Then another. And another. Blood flowing out of you, liquids pumping into you, consciousness fading as the beeping grows louder and more incessant. You try to stay awake—fighting with all your might, but you can’t. The beeping has crescendoed with the accompaniment of flashing lights. You’re sure this is your mind’s way of coping with the loss of reality as you slowly slip away. Voices yell around you, crashing bodies, and the flying of blood splatter covers the ceiling you’ve been staring at. The room glows white and you’re sure this is it. But something blocks the light—a figure hovers above you. Ripping the needles from your arms and freeing you from the restraints, a voice soothes you. It reverberates around your skull, echoing and not registering as any kind of real dialogue. Then, arms cradle you and lift you up off of the table and suddenly you recognize the source of the voice.

“You’re gonna be okay, baby, I got you,” Logan reassures, the gravel in his voice bringing you back down to earth. Eyes blink up at him as he pulls you against his chest, carrying you away from the fluorescent room. There’s another voice—one you don’t recognize.

“Logan, we must get her medical attention. She’s dying,” the man says.

“We’re almost there, baby, just hang on,” Logan comforts you, trying his best not to jostle you as he practically runs through a white blur of a hallway. The scenery around you darkens, an engine hums in the distance. Nothing is legible to you through your delirium. The humming grows louder and louder until you’re carried up a ramp and placed gently onto the hard surface of a table. A hiss, some beeps and the room shakes. You can’t make sense of anything, your surroundings looking like a blur of grey and faint flashing lights.

“Hank, do something, damnit!” Logan shouts, gripping your hand tightly. You wish you could squeeze him back, but your body is too weak to do much of anything—sleep seeming like something that would feel so, so good right now.

“Her body has been deprived of the necessary nutrients her powers need in order to regenerate her strength, I can give her this to see if it will sustain her until—“

“Give her the damn shot!”

The light prick on your skin barely registers as you try your hardest to look at Logan’s face, but he’s so faint, nothing looks clear.

“Logan,” you rasp.

“You’re gonna be okay, baby, just look at me. You got this, just hang on.” He shakes you gently, trying to keep you conscious. But you just want to sleep, it’s all you can think about.

“I’m so tired,” you murmur, your lids heavy, your breathing slowing down. The thumping that used to be so loud in your chest feels lighter and lighter as you succumb to your sleep. Everything around you echoes, unable to register the yells and screams as you allow your body to fall asleep.

A gasp violently wakes you, like you almost fell off of something. Chest heaving, you sit up in bed, taking time to process what just happened. You barely remember this dream, just that Logan was there and you felt so weak and tired and scared. Falling back against your pillow, you try and will yourself back to sleep, already feeling the events of the dream fading away. But a harsh noise startles you awake, your heart rate skyrocketing from the shock. You jump at the sound of banging echoing from your door. Checking the clock, you wonder who would be here at this hour. You go to your bedroom window to peek out at your driveway for any indication of who might be bothering you. It’s dark, but you can make out the silhouette of a car parked in front of your house. Sighing in annoyance at the sight of what you recognize as Logan’s truck, you stomp down your stairs, wondering what the hell he could be doing here at this hour. Swinging the door open, you try to hide your surprise at the way he’s dressed. No shirt, just sweatpants. Like he just rolled out of bed and showed up. He almost looks relieved to see you. He doesn’t give you a second to question him before he speaks.

“Did you just have a dream?” he asks, his tone concerned and stressed, bare chest heaving. You’re too tired for this tonight, you just want him gone.

“What? Logan, go home,” you scoff, trying to shut the door but he stops you, imploring your name.

“Did you…have any dreams?” he repeats, slowing his words down carefully as he wills you to be honest with him. Judging from his disheveled appearance and worried tone, you’re assuming he just had the same dream you did. Did he come here to see if you were okay? To test your connection further and see if the dream meant something to you? You can’t push this relationship further past what it already is. It’s better for you and Logan that you forget about everything and try and move on.

“I didn’t have any dreams, goodnight, Logan,” you reply simply, shutting the door finally and locking it behind you before you head upstairs, going back to bed.

…

You’re not religious, but you’ve been praying—praying that this morning will not be the most awkward morning of your life and it will be just like any other day in Logan’s class, which really isn’t too normal at all. At least, not in comparison to the rest of the courses you’ve been taking, but you hope he doesn’t have any outbursts.

Your classmates, engaged in conversation around you, barely notice Logan walking in. But you do. He’s a few minutes later than usual, hair messy and eyes heavy as he sets his briefcase down. He’s flipping through the textbook, keeping his eyes low so he doesn’t make eye contact with you. A part of you wants him to—wants him to look at you. Does he still think about your night of passion? Does he have to try and stop himself from caving into self-pleasure, shoving every lasting thought of you down the drain? Does he have to fight the urge to stare at your tits or the way your ass looks in your jeans when you turn around to write on the board….

God, what has happened to you? You have sex with someone once and you can hardly control your thoughts. How can he have this effect on you? Clenching your thighs when he enters a room, heart racing at the sight of his biceps peeking out from under the sleeves of his T-shirt. You’re like a fangirl who can’t stop thinking about nothing but him—him, him, him. You might as well flutter your eyelashes and prop your chin on your hand if this is how you’re going to be.

Logan goes on and on about…Shit, what did he just say? C’mon, pay attention damnit. This man will not cause me my degree, you curse your thoughts and try to whip yourself into shape.

Shaking your head of the sexual ideals, you bring your focus to your note taking, attempting to forge a mental image of Logan being extremely unattractive. It works for the remainder of class, or at least until he hands you back your essay with the words My office. After class, scrawled at the top of the page. You glance upwards to meet his gaze, he holds eye contact for a beat before quickly turning away to pack up his things at the front of the room. Class is over, but you don’t dare to get up just yet, frozen in indecisiveness. Why does he want to see you? What reason does he have to see you? Is he just trying to come up with an excuse? The classroom’s empty now, leaving you with a decision: see Logan, or go home.

You honestly don’t really have much of a choice, as your body decides for your brain by carrying you to the door of his office. With hesitation, you knock, silently hoping that he forgot about what he wrote at the top of your essay.

“Come in,” he calls from behind the door, causing you to curse internally. Gingerly, you open the door inch by inch, peeking in briefly before stepping inside and closing the door behind you. He’s sat behind his desk, leaning back leisurely with his legs spread wide. You offer an awkward smile as you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your skirt, trying your best to hide your nerves.

“What’s up?” you ask, attempting a casual tone despite your nervousness in being here. Logan adjusts his position in his chair slightly, clearly stewing on something.

“So, your essay—I wanted to talk…well, I wanted to tell you,” he stammers, clearly struggling to form his thoughts. You try your best to listen patiently, but he continues to stumble through each word, “Look, there’s some things—there’s a thing, it’s extracurricular, I guess…”

“You brought me here to talk about a club?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him in slight disbelief.

“No, it’s not a club—well, it sorta is…look, I—“

“Logan,” you start, trying to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. You’re sure he just called you in because he won’t admit that he’s upset you rebuffed him. “I appreciate you thinking of me, but I’m not interested.”

You turn around in an attempt to leave, but Logan crosses to you in no time, spinning you around with a tight grip on your arm. The sudden movement makes you gasp lightly, a familiar twinge of arousal swirling within you at the harsh movement. He takes a deep breath, his mouth gaping like he’s trying to say something but can’t find the words. Something is distracting him, but you can hardly focus too—the way he looms over you and the smell of his tobacco filled musk being almost too much to bear. He stares at you for what feels like forever, a look of mild annoyance on his face which makes your brow furrow.

“What?” you ask incredulously, trying your best to hide how much he’s making your heart skip a beat and your thighs clench.

“Will you stop that,” he practically hisses.

“Stop what?”

“I can—Jesus, I can smell you.” He shakes you gently, pulling you slightly closer to him, like his body wants to kiss you but he’s trying his hardest to stop himself.

“Smell? What are you...” You trail off, your mind racing with possibilities. My perfume? My shampoo? What can he smell? And then it hits you. Can he smell when I’m turned on? Oh, god. You gulp, your throat suddenly extremely dry. How are you supposed to play this off? It’s almost like you’ve been backed into a corner, until your eyes flick downwards between the two of you, catching a glimpse of his own arousal pressed firmly against his jeans. Looking back up to him, you cock an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t seem to bother you,” you retort, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“You don’t exactly make it easy, princess,” he says, shifting his weight in discomfort.

“Make what easy?” you ask, doing your best to appear clueless to what he’s implying.

He inhales sharply before spinning you around so your ass is pinned to the edge of his desk, Logan’s body pressed into yours as he stops you from being able to move out from under him. The tip of his nose grazes against your own as his lips hover in a state of hesitance, contemplating a kiss.

“Logan,” you warn, voice hushed, “We can’t.”

“Why not?” He tries to catch your lips, but you pull back, not letting him make contact.

“Someone could walk in.”

“Could they?” he asks, dragging a hand up your side, letting your shirt hike up under the trail of his hand. Your breath hitches as his fingers graze along your skin, melting into his touch. He dips his face down to your ear, his beard prickling the soft skin of your cheek.

“What are you gonna do about that, princess?” he husks, tempting you with each rake of his words along the gravel of his vocal cords. His mouth glides along the side of your face, touch too ginger to be a kiss, but firm enough to feel each curve of his lips. He told you that you’re not making it easy, but god, it’s taking every ounce of self control in you to not just let him fuck you on the desk behind you.

But why not let him? You’ve already done it once, and who’s to say this won’t be the last time you do it? God, he’s making this so hard. The way his frame is pressed to yours, hands dragging up and down your body, his mouth so close to yours that if you so much as hiccup you’d surely lock lips. Maybe just a little kiss wouldn’t hurt, you think to yourself. With a raise of your hand and a flick of your wrist, the door is fused with the threshold, ensuring that no one can enter and catch you and Logan in the act. Hooking your arms around his neck, you finally pull his face into yours, affirming the connection that your mouths have been craving.

Groans escape Logan’s throat as he lifts you up slightly, setting you down on the desk. You wrap your legs around his torso, trying not to pay attention to the fact that you can feel the outline of his cock through your thin panties. Arching your back into him, your tongue tests the waters by dipping into his mouth gently.

The kiss is not pretty by any means, it’s wet and ravenous and messy, and so so good. It’s like you’re the first meal he’s had in ages; hungry yet savored. Tongues unabashedly become familiar with each other, no care with how far he thrusts it into your mouth and vice versa, just wanting to swallow and feel every last inch of you. Logan’s hands start wandering from your sides, sliding up your torso to grip your breasts possessively. You whimper in his mouth, frenzied in your desire to feel all of him. Hands wander again, settling at your waist to pull you closer to him before slipping under your skirt. A whimper leaves your mouth as he toys with the waistband of your panties, working his hand between your bodies so he can slide them to the side. Gasping into his mouth as he slides a finger through your lips, back arching into him.

You lose your focus on the kiss as he teases you, avoiding your aching core to make sure you’re nice and wet for him. His onslaught of your lips is still consistent, as if toying with your pussy is second nature to him. But he’s seemingly through with the teasing, as he slips one finger inside of you. You mewl into the kiss when he curls a digit, Logan takes that as permission to slip in another finger. You’re putty beneath him, barely able to reciprocate the kiss through whimpers and moans as he continues to pump in and out of you.

The sound of knocking outside causes both you and Logan to scramble. Hastily, pulling apart, straightening clothes, smoothing hair.

“Uh, be with ‘ya in just a minute,” Logan calls.

You hop off of his desk, bending down to collect your things, but Logan stops you with a grip on your arm.

“Logan, there’s someone—“ you whisper, your voice stressed.

“They can wait,” he husks, moving his hand from your arm to your jaw. Gripping your face, he brings his fingers from his free hand to your mouth, beckoning you to suck them clean. You’re not sure why, but you oblige, parting your lips to allow him access as you languidly suck your arousal from his fingers. He stares down at you with desire clearly painted on his face. He wants you, and he is not trying to hide it.

“Good girl,” he drawls with a tone dripping in velvet, causing you to swirl your tongue around each digit enthusiastically, savoring the taste of your own juices. The knocking continues, harmonizing with the voice of a young girl this time.

“Professor, I’m sorry, I just have a few questions about the homework.”

Logan pulls his fingers from your mouth, making you almost whine at the loss of fullness; a bitter taste remaining on your tongue. You clear your throat and grab your bag, smoothing your skirt and hair down as you silently hope you don’t look like you were just aggressively making out with your professor. Logan slips behind his desk, settling into his chair, unabashedly ogling your ass as you approach the door. You flash a flirty smile over your shoulder as you reach for the doorknob, almost falling over when the door doesn’t budge. You give it another good yank before remembering that you fused the door to the frame so no one would catch you and Logan in a compromising position.

You laugh awkwardly, catching Logan’s slightly bemused gaze as you lift your hand and restore the door back to its original state. Swinging it open, you offer a meek smile to the girl waiting patiently outside before quickly scurrying away. You can hear her still from the end of the hall.

“What’s with the door? I had a hard time getting it open,” she says.

“It’s broken.”

…

As you drive home from class, you can’t help but blush as you think back to your impromptu makeout session with Logan. The way he kissed you, touched you, grabbed you…No, you can’t. As much as you’d like to give in to these thoughts and feelings, you can’t allow this thing to become any bigger than it already is. It’s just a fling, a fleeting infatuation. You can’t let him distract you from your aspirations. There’s a whole path before you, laid out clearly. You know where you’re supposed to go. Sure, he may be like you, and he may understand you, but you have already accepted that the world isn’t ready to welcome mutants. If you let yourself have feelings for him, you would threaten the life you’ve worked so hard to maintain in secret. No one knows you, no one notices you, and that’s how you need it to be.

Besides, you like your quiet life. You like the winding drive to and from town. You like breathing the misty mountain air while you drink your morning coffee. You like the quiet that encompasses your little house. And nothing, surely no man, will take that tranquility from you.

Bedroom window cracked, you attempt to lull yourself to sleep with the sounds of the chirping crickets just outside your window. Though your eyes don’t feel quite as heavy as you’d like them to, you keep them shut. Hoping that your body will soon take over and succumb to the sleep you know you need to get.

Your vision around you is cloudy, unclear. There are no defining characteristics to your surroundings, just an expanse of darkness that envelops everything. You catch a light in the distance, the black slowly melting away as you approach it. When the darkness dissipates, the image is clearer. A hospital room. You almost don’t perceive who’s lying upon the bed, as the tubes and devices cover their face—your face— completely. You’re in the hospital? What hospital? This is unlike anything you’ve seen before, the equipment you’re hooked up to is far more advanced than what you know hospitals to have.

A blurry figure sits in a chair beside your bed, you cannot discern who it may be. The image clears further as the figure moves. It’s a man—it’s Logan. He looks…scared? Sad? Concerned? No, he looks distraught. He stares at you longingly, gripping your hand tightly. Another figure enters your line of sight. Unclear, but…blue? And furry? He’s broad, tall, and he wears a white lab coat, a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His face grows more detailed, revealing an animal-like physique to you. The two men begin speaking to each other but you cannot quite understand what they’re saying; their words are muffled and echoey, like they’re underwater. The shroud of indiscernible dialogue slowly dissipates.

“Logan, I’m sorry, we’ve tried everything. Her life…it’s in her hands now,” the blue stranger says, offering a sympathetic hand on Logan’s shoulder.

“It’s not in her hands, damnit, it’s in yours!” he snaps, standing up to drill into him further. “If she dies, it’s on you, Hank…so help me, god, if she—if she dies, you better pray, Hank—you better pray she makes it.”

Hank doesn’t seem phased by his threat. His expression is sad, empathetic.

“I’m sorry, Lo—“

He’s cut off by a droning beep emanating from one of the machines. You’re flatlining. You’re watching yourself flatline.

“No…no, no, no, no,” Logan sputters, rushing to your side. “No, come on baby, don’t do this to me. I’m right here with you, wake up, baby.”

“Logan—“ Hank tries to intervene.

“Goddamnit! Wake up!” he cries now, practically cradling you as he holds you to his chest.

You can’t stand to see him like this, you’re here. You’re right in front of him. In an attempt to comfort him, you try and approach further, but something stops you. You can’t move. Like a magnet that’s faced its match, you’re incapable of making contact.

“I’m here. I’m right here!” you shout. But he doesn’t react. And neither does Hank. There’s nothing you can do. Logan is anguished over your lifeless body and you just have to watch him suffer. The force stops you from approaching him, yet you still try with all your strength. Fighting and straining against the impermeable energy, you scream more as you hope and pray that Logan might hear you. Just when you feel like he may be within reach, something drags you away as if you were a lure they were reeling back in on a fishing line. The strength in which it pulls you away knocks you completely off your feet and you lose all sense of your surroundings.

Falling. A gasp and a drop of your heart brings you back down to earth. That was the weirdest one yet. Despite the strange out of body experience, it felt so real. Like you could almost reach out and touch Logan if you tried hard enough, yet you couldn’t. A sense of dread and anxiety weights heavy on your heart. You don’t think you’ll be able to fall asleep, at least not for a while.

Pushing open the doors of your patio, you shiver as the cold, night air encompasses you. You wrap a blanket around you as you propel yourself to the roof. It’s nights like these where you find yourself extra grateful for the lack of light pollution here. The stars don’t dream, the ones above may already be burnt out, but they still shine even in their possible death.

Your attention is drawn to headlights at the top of your driveway, your eyes adjusting to recognize Logan’s truck pulling in. A part of you wants to be annoyed, but there’s another part of you that is still pretty shaken up from that dream and could use a comforting presence. And judging by his sudden appearance, he must’ve also had the same one. He steps out of his truck, a case of beer in his hand.

“Figured you could use one of these,” Logan calls from below, gesturing with the case of beer.

You exhale a light laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity of this situation. A wave of your hand and you project a set of crystalline, pink stairs for him to climb up. He hesitantly ascends, clearly weary of the sturdiness of the projection. He reaches the top, the steps dissipating behind him. A hand stretches out to you, offering you one of the beers, which you accept with a tight-lipped smile. He sinks down next to you, his beer bottle hissing open before he takes a generous swig. Twisting the cap off, you take a swig yourself, wincing at the bitter path it leaves down your throat. You’re quiet for a while, mostly because you’re unsure of what to say, but also in part because you like the quiet. Your gaze has been fixed on the freckled sky above, avoiding making eye contact with Logan. The impromptu kiss today might’ve left him wanting more, and you hope he didn’t just come here to pick up where you left off. But, then again, he had the same dream you did, where he seemed to be far more distraught than you were.

“You okay?” you ask quietly, turning your head to face him. His jaw tightens slightly before he turns to you and nods. Taking another sip of his beer, he looks lost in thought, leg propped up and arm rested atop his knee.

“Why do you think we keep having these dreams?” he asks lowly, finally turning to face you.

In all honesty, you don’t know. You’ve never experienced anything like this before. As far as you know, your powers don’t affect the subconscious, and while you don’t know much about what Logan can do, you doubt that his metal claws come with the power to manipulate dreams.

“I don’t know,” you offer, feeling a bit defeated by the fact that you have to keep dealing with this every night. You can’t remember the last time you had a full nights sleep that wasn’t interrupted with nightmares or sex dreams.

“Can your powers…you know, even do stuff like that?” he inquires, unsure of himself.

You shake your head, feeling certain that if you were capable of this kind of thing, it would’ve most likely already happened to you, before you ever even met him.

“No, I don’t think so,” you replied, before continuing, “And you? Can you…do stuff like that?”

You take another sip of your beer. Logan chuckles, seemingly amused at the thought.

“I don’t mean to disappoint, but these claws don’t got much to do with mysticism,” he teases, causing you to nod in understanding. “I know I didn’t explain much,” he continues, unsheathing his claws with a sharp ‘snikt,’ “But I wasn’t exactly born like this.”

“What do you mean?” you inquire, confused as to what he’s implying as you stare at the blades that protrude from his knuckles; they glisten in the moonlight.

“This metal…it ain’t just on the claws,” he remarks in a tone that you can only describe as pained as he begins to recount this to you. “Those dreams you—we have….that fear you felt in there, it was a reality for me.”

His jaw tenses as he sheathes his claws. You’re not sure what exactly he’s trying to say—or allude to, as he isn’t saying anything with clarity.

“What fear?” you coax, trying to get him to reveal more to you.

“The tests.” He’s quiet, taking a generous swig of his beer, easily downing a majority of the liquid that was left in the bottle.

“What tests? Who tested on you?” He doesn’t answer you, avoiding eye contact as you try to level with him. “Was it the government? The military?”

He stiffens, his body having a visceral reaction to those words. That realization makes your heart sink. What did he go through? Why did they test on him? What did they do to him? What did he mean when he said the metal wasn’t just on his claws? Your mind races with questions and concerns until you take note of his stiff posture and balled fists, his hand keeping a death grip on his beer bottle. You’ve never seen him look so tense before. This must be painful to recount—to have been treated inhumanely like a lab rat. You cannot imagine what he must be feeling. You place a gentle hand on his balled fist and feel as he relaxes under your touch. He turns his head to you with a softened expression.

“You don’t have to tell me anything else…I’m sorry,” you sympathized, running your thumb along his knuckles.

He shrugs, as if this was a casual retelling. A typical Monday night for Logan Howlett.

“Don’t stress about it, princess,” he husks, dipping his head down to your level. He lingers there for a moment, gaze flicking between your eyes and lips, clearly contemplating a kiss. You should protest, push him away, but his closeness is comforting. It’s warm. He attempts to lock his lips with yours, but you turn away, not allowing contact.

“I…I still think we shouldn’t…,” you murmur, keeping your head low and meekly looking up at him through your eyebrows. He nods in understanding, shifting away from you slightly. Despite your hesitance to kiss him again, you don’t want him to leave. His presence relaxes you, keeps you from spiraling. You move closer to him, gently linking your arm with his before leaning against his shoulder. The suddenness of your contact makes him flinch under you slightly. You feel a twinge of embarrassment when he removes his arm from the link you formed. But the feeling quickly dissipates when he wraps it around you to pull your frame further into his. A gentle kiss is placed on the top of your head, making your breath hitch. This is exactly what you needed tonight.

“Thank you—for coming here,” you mutter, nuzzling your head into his chest in an attempt to get comfortable. He shifts under you, perhaps in an attempt to get a look at your huddled figure.

“It’s nothing. People like us—we take care of each other,” he remarks, adjusting the blanket that’s fallen off your shoulder with the hand that is not wrapped around you. He fumbles with the beer bottle, struggling to get a grip on the blanket with the fingers he doesn’t need to use in order to support the glass.

“You done with that? I can take care of it for you,” you offer, gesturing to his beer bottle. He nods, offering it to you as he’s probably expecting you to just take it away from him. You take him by surprise, though, when you dissipate it with a wave of your hand, a trail of pink particles dissolving into the air. He looks at his hand incredulously, then at you, then back to his hand.

“Alright, I told you my shit, now tell me yours,” he insisted, a bemused but intrigued tone to his voice, causing you to laugh lightly.

“Okay, um, well…I don’t know everything about what I can do, but I do know atomic structures. If I can conceptualize something, I can conceptualize its atomic structure,” you begin, “So, take, for instance, this beer bottle,” you hold up the glass in your hand for emphasis, “When I look at it, I don’t just see the bottle. I see all of its particles and components and the atomic structures that make it up. So, since I’m done with it, I could just throw it away, but I’d honestly rather help the environment a little and convert it…” you trail off as you begin dissipating its particles, “…into energy. In this case, oxygen.”

Logan looks down at you with an amused expression, which makes you nervous. Did you say too much? Is he silently making fun of you?

“Sorry,” you concede sheepishly, suddenly feeling embarrassed about the way you admitted that to him.

“No, don’t be. That’s…Look, I’ve seen a lot in my time, but I’ve never seen anything like that—like you. Don’t be sorry,” he reassures, nudging you slightly with the arm that envelops you. You smile in relief and feel a twinge of pride. He’s right, it is pretty incredible. And it’s nothing to be sorry for.

“Thank you,” you murmur, looking up at him through heavy eyelids. Your exhaustion is beginning to rear its head at you the longer you sit in his arms. Settling against his chest, you pay attention to the steady thump of his heartbeat, the way his thumb runs circles along your upper arm, the warmness of his body on yours.

You’re not sure how soon after closing your eyes you fell asleep, finding yourself tangled in your bedsheets the following morning, Logan’s frame curled into yours.

...

A/N: AHHHHH!! i loved writing this one, i know i say that about every chapter but i mean it this time. no seriously this was fun to write. there's so much to this one and i feel like its jam packed with angst, exposition, a little sprinkle of smut, and a deepening of their connection. i do apologize for the sudden length between updates, i just started a new job and ive also been babysitting during the day so i got randomly busy all of a sudden!! i'm not giving up on this story and i still have SO SO SO MUCH PLANNED REST ASSURED. i love hearing peoples thoughts and theories, and i hope, as i said in the A/N at the top of this chapter, no one felt like the slow burn was too rushed. srsly theres still a LOT that has to happen before these two get together so the slow burn WILL be slow. a couple of people have asked about a chapter from logan's POV, and i will say that there will be maybe a couple more chapters until we get the one from his POV! so it'll happen!!! yay!! as always leave a like or a comment and also feel free to keep up with the story here on my ao3 as well!!

Taglist: @wolviesgirl @sanemis-piss @fictionalmen-dilflover @e-nonsense @bontensbabygirl @sseleniaa

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