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imaginedisish · 3 months ago

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Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: This took way longer than expected, and I also sort of got carried away...Hope it still lives up to the requester's expectations (I also saw that the anon asked for fluff...and this ended up being fluff and smut...hope that's okay). Def some errors...I only proofread twice. This one is also inspired by "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan's kindness towards you is strictly friendly. Until it's not just friendly anymore...

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI! Unprotected PIV, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms (uh, they're outside...), grumpy!Logan, cursing, major angst, comfort, fluff, references to canon typical violence/death/conflicts, f!reader/afab!reader (reader has hair at the nape of her neck but no description of length/texture/color), mutant!reader, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,662 my back hurts

It had been a long day. Every day was a long day. There were the kids to worry about, and then there was the rest of the world. There’s a war coming, you see it everywhere you look, and hear it everywhere you go. The news. The papers. The kids whispering in hushed echoes late at night when you’re walking the halls sleeplessly. You don’t want a war. You want a life.

The mansion is still bustling—it always is—but it’s slowly winding down. You listen as kids walk up the stairs in waves, heading into their bedrooms for the night. You know you should too, but you like it when the mansion gets quiet. You like knowing that everyone is safe, tucked away. You like it when no one else is around—when you can be alone, the stillness and quiet of a dark and sleeping house cradling you like a mother.

You find yourself in one of the living rooms, the T.V. still on, playing reruns of a cartoon you recognize from years ago. You smile as laughter erupts from down the hall, the padding of small feet echoing along the floorboards and the sound of much heavier boots following close behind.

“Hey! Watch it!” A grumpy, familiar voice shouts as kids run past the doorway to the living room, giggling mischievously. “Fucking kids.” You turn towards the sound of Logan’s voice as it bounces off the walls, his frame entering the doorway.

He has a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other as he strides over to you.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, smiling up at him. He’s in his beater and his jeans and that leather jacket that hugs him just the right way. You try not to think about how good he looks as he places the plate and the glass down on the coffee table in front of you. Friends don’t think about friends like that, and that’s all you two are: friends.

“Thought you might want a snack,” he mumbles, pointing to the cookies. “And maybe someone to talk to. You’ve got that look on your face.”

You roll your eyes, staring at him incredulously. “What look?”

“That sleepy, stressed face you make,” he starts, walking around the coffee table and taking the spot on the couch right next to you. “When you’re listening to everyone, making sure they’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” you say, reaching for a cookie. Logan sits up and grabs the glass of milk, extending it out to you. “Really, I am,” you promise, but you know he can tell that you’re lying.

You take the glass from him, and his hand falls to your thigh. The feeling of his skin against yours is intoxicating. He works his jaw and opens his mouth. “What’s going on—”

“Logan?” Storm cuts him off, standing in the doorway. Her gaze is focused on Logan’s hand resting on your thigh. “Did you make tea?”

His eyes flicker between you and Storm. You tilt your head, waiting for his response. “Yes,” he answers, his hand lifting from your thigh as he stands. The spot is suddenly cold. You want to grab his hand and yank him back down.

“Well, the water is about to boil,” she says, smirking as the kettle begins to whistle.

Logan mutters a quick shit under his breath as he prowls out of the living room and down the hall to the kitchen. Storm giggles as she watches him, shaking her head. She squints at the cookies and milk, and then at you. You nervously place the milk back down on the coffee table.

“Wow,” is all she says, her arms crossing her chest as she leans against the frame of the doorway. You can hear Logan shuffling around the kitchen, closing cabinets and cursing. “All this for you, huh?”

Your jaw drops just a bit at her words, their meaning instantly smacking you in the face. “O-oh, no,” you stutter defensively. “It’s not like that.”

The conversation quickly ends as Logan walks into the living room with a cup of tea, passing Storm and heading to the couch. He sits down next to you and places the tea in front of you. The tag of the tea bag hangs over the side of the mug, steam wafting off the top.

“You like tea, right?” He asks as you lean over and grab the warm mug in your hands. The heat feels good, but not as good as when his hand was on your thigh.

You nod, swallowing those feelings down as you blow into the cup to cool the hot liquid inside. “Thanks, Logan.” You smile, and he smiles back.

Storm is still in the doorway, a soft laugh stuck in her throat. “I’ll leave you two alone.” And before you can protest, she’s gone, her heels clicking down the hardwood floors of the hallway.

Alone now with Logan, you can’t help but feel nervous. You bring the mug to your lips and finally take a sip, the hot tea dripping down your throat. Was Storm right? No. This is just a friend looking out for a friend. There’s no deeper meaning. So what if Logan brought you cookies and milk? So what if he made tea for you? He’s just being nice, kind, caring. That’s what he always is…to you at least. Maybe only to you—

“Hey, everything okay?” Logan’s voice yanks you back to reality, his palm suddenly warm on your thigh again. You jump at the sensation, accidentally spilling tea on Logan’s hand and all over your thighs.

“Shit,” you mutter, the liquid stinging just a bit against your bare skin. “I’m so sorry,” you say, placing the cup down on the coffee table. When you look back up, Logan is gone. You can hear scuffling in the kitchen again, drawers opening and slamming closed.

“What the fuck are you doing, Logan?” Scott’s voice chastises in the distance.

Logan scoffs, his footsteps echoing against the tile floors. “Fuck off, Summers,” he chides, and you can’t help but laugh at their bickering.

“Think that’s funny?” Logan teases, suddenly in front of you. He rushes over, kneeling next to you. He has a towel in his hand. “You okay?” He asks. “Anything hurt?”

You shake your head from side to side. “Nope, all good,” you say, grinning, ready for him to pass you the towel. But he doesn’t—he’s cleaning you up himself.

He rubs the towel gently across your thighs, sopping up all the tea. His touch is soft and careful. You can feel heat rise to your chest at the closeness—the intimacy of it all. You take a deep breath, struggling to calm your heart as he takes his time taking care of you.

“You sure you’re alright?” He whispers, his eyes suddenly searching yours. The towel hikes up a bit further, the tip brushing against the hem of your shorts. You’re dizzied by his touch, by the comforting way he smiles up at you as he lets the towel fall to the side. Both of his hands are on you now, one on each thigh. His thumbs brush soft shapes into your skin.

Just friends, you say to yourself. Just friends just friends just—

“Hey gu—oh,” Bobby stutters, standing in the doorway with Peter. “S-sorry to interrupt. We didn’t mean to—”

“What do you two want?” Logan cuts him off, his hands slipping off your thighs as he stands to face the boys. You can hear the gruff annoyance in this voice. “No privacy in this goddamn mansion,” he mutters under his breath so low you almost don’t hear it.

“Charles told us to come get you, Logan,” Bobby continues nervously. “He has to talk to you about something.”

Logan groans, irritated as ever. “Fine. Tell him I’ll be there in a second.”

Bobby and Peter nod, too nervous to say anything else, and walk away. Logan is still standing in the same spot. You can tell he’s thinking, contemplating something.

“You better go,” you say, cocking your head towards the hall. “Can’t keep the professor waiting,” you joke. You watch as the corner of his mouth twitches up. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the sight of turning his frown into a smile.

He turns his body so that he’s completely facing you. His throat bobs as his hands curl into fists at his sides. He looks like he’s holding back, resisting—but what? You can’t quite tell.

“Logan?” Charles’ voice calls from down the hall.

“I wanna see that plate clean when I get back,” Logan finally says, pointing to the cookies.

You let out a laugh as he walks to the doorway. “Yes sir,” you pledge, hand on your heart. His smile widens, his eyes grazing up and down your body, as if committing your form to his memory. What you’re seeing can’t be right; it has to be an illusion. You almost think he doesn’t want to leave you—can’t leave you. His feet are planted on the ground, his arms tucked against his chest.

He opens his mouth, but the Professor interrupts him before he can get a word in. “Logan!”

Logan steps out of the doorway impatiently, fists still clutched at his side. “Meet me on the lawn in thirty minutes, okay?” he huffs out, walking down the hallway towards Charles’ voice before you can give him an answer. Charles calls him again. “Yeah, yeah, old man. I hear you!”

Thirty minutes. Just thirty minutes. You can—absolutely cannot—wait thirty minutes.

God. You are so lovesick.

Twenty-five minutes later you’re sitting out on the lawn, far away from the mansion, waiting for Logan, popping the last cookie into your mouth.

You lay down on your back, the cold, wet grass sending a shiver down your spine. There’s a light breeze in the air, bending the green blades and the leaves of the trees back and forth. You look up at the stars, imagining just how hot they are, just how bright they can shine.

“You finished the cookies!” Logan’s voice calls from a few feet away. You sit up, watching the shadow of his form make his way over to you. You can see the smile spread across his face as he reaches your slide, crouching down and sitting next to you.

“Of course I did,” you say. He’s looking down at you, his eyes flickering across your face. You want to look away, but you can’t. It’s like he’s got you stuck there—he always does. He is the one thing you can’t resist.

Logan’s shoulder bumps against yours, the sudden warmth reminding you just how cold you are. You shiver, crossing your arms and tucking them into your chest.

You instinctively and involuntarily lean into his touch, searching for warmth. He catches on to what you’re doing before you do. “Cold?” He asks, shuffling a bit in his spot as he lifts his jacket.

“O-oh no it’s okay you don’t—” But then he’s taking off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“Better?” He asks, his arm wrapping around your shoulders too, inviting you to lean into him completely.

“Y-yeah,” You stutter, letting your head rest against his chest. You close your eyes, too nervous to keep them open. His jacket smells like him—pine and tobacco and musk. Every breath you take is intoxicating. He’s everywhere, flooding your senses. It’s overwhelming, but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than with him.

He sighs, his breath fanning against your forehead. “So, what’s the matter?” He asks, tugging you in tighter.

You shake your head, looking up at him. “Nothing,” you say, doing your best to be convincing. “I’m fine.” But you know it’s no use. He can see right through you. It’s like knowing when you’re lying is part of his mutation.

Logan raises his brows. “You’re stressed.” It isn’t a question, it’s a fact. “I could see it before, when we were inside. I can see it when you’re teaching the kids.” He rubs his hand up and down your arm, the feeling almost distracting you from his words. His eyes search yours for the truth, for an answer. “You can talk to me, darlin’. I’m right here.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as those last three words replay in your mind. You swallow your nerves down, searching for the right thing to say.

“What if we’re in danger?” You stumble over the sentence quickly, shooting it out into the air like it’s something you’ve wanted to get rid of for a long time. “What if the stupid war they’re always talking about comes, and we aren’t ready?” You can feel your heart racing, tears brimming behind your eyes.

Logan presses a kiss to your forehead, the warm feeling of his lips unexpected but welcome. “Hey,” he coos, his lips still pressed against your skin. “It’s gonna be okay.”

A tear slides down your cheek. The words come out like vomit, each syllable slipping off your tongue in rapid-fire succession. “But what if it’s not? What if I can’t protect the kids or the team or you for fuck’s sake?” You can’t stop the floodgates—tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You’re speaking between sobs now. “What if they get to us before we can convince them that mutants aren’t something to be wiped out or some disease to be cured? What if—”

Logan’s arms wrap around your body, tugging you against his chest, pulling you as close as possible. “I’m not gonna let that happen,” he murmurs. “We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to be okay.”

“H-how do you know?” You choke, your chest heaving against his. “What if—"

“No more what ifs,” he whispers, his hands rubbing against the leather of the jacket—his jacket—on your back. “No one’s gonna hurt you, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Gonna keep you safe, okay?”

“O-okay,” you mutter. “Gonna k-keep you safe, too.”

Logan hums, the bassy timber of his voice filling your ears, calming your mind. “Don’t worry about me,” he pauses, one hand reaching up to the nape of your neck, rubbing circles into the sensitive skin there. “Just let me worry about you.”

“Always gonna worry about you,” you say, not backing down.

You can feel his heart beating against yours. “You don’t have to right now,” he soothes. “Let me take care of you.”

You don’t protest—don’t try to fight him this time. You let him pull you into his lap, let him hold you closer, let him play with the hair at the nape of your neck. You can feel his lips on the crown of your head. He’s so close—closer than he’s ever been before. He feels so good, so firm and solid underneath you, so steadfast and constant. He’s a lifeline, a necessity. A safe place—asylum.

It has always been him that you need, and you’d be a liar to say otherwise.

Logan finally breaks the silence. “What are you thinking about?” He asks. You, you think.

“Me?” What?

“Did I just…” you trail off. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, you did,” he husks, his hands lowering down your back, slipping under the jacket and your thin t-shirt to the bare skin underneath. His palms are warm, and his touch is tentative, hesitant. “This okay?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, and Logan starts to draw patterns and shapes across your back. “Feels nice.” Your voice is soft and shaky as he explores your skin.

“I’ve been thinking about you too, you know,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. His nails drag across your back. You move your legs to straddle him. “You’re the only thing on my mind, princess.” He presses his forehead to yours as if to show you, to prove to you that he’s telling the truth. You shudder at the words, at the thought. He presses a chaste kiss to your nose, lowering his lips until they’re just centimeters from yours.

The world feels frozen. You’ve long forgotten you’re outside, the breeze cutting across the grass. You’ve forgotten about the stars twinkling above you. They’re nothing—just balls of heat burning out millions of miles away. You’ve forgotten about all the hatred you’re forced to face, all the variables and lives at stake in this stupid war. Your mind is calm. Everything is suddenly nothing.

Everything is him. Logan.

“Logan,” you mumble. It’s a plea, a prayer, a demand. And he knows exactly what you’re asking for as his name hangs in the air between the two of you.

His lips crash down onto yours, tasting you, savoring you. But it isn’t languid or slow—it’s rushed, frantic, starving, as if your world is ending; it very well could be. He’s pushing you down onto the grass, his muscular arms on either side of your head, caging you in underneath him.

“Wanted you this whole time,” he pants in between kisses. “Needed you, couldn’t stop thinking about you. Still can’t.” He pushes the jacket open with one of his hands and hitches your shirt up. He lowers himself onto his forearm as his nails drag up your stomach, settling just under your ribs. He spreads his palm, feeling the expanse of your skin, tracing your curves and the dips of your body.

“F-fuck,” you stutter, arching your back off the grass and into his chest, offering more of yourself to him.

He bites your lower lip and kisses the pain away. “You gonna let me take you right here?” He growls, his fingers playing with the hem of your bra. “Gonna let me fuck you outside, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you whine, lifting your hips against his, feeling his erection straining in his jeans. “Need you, Lo.”

He curses under his breath as he sits up, his hands pawing at the leather jacket, tearing it from your body and casting it aside. You sit up too, keeping yourself close to him. He’s yanking at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. He takes off his beater next, but you don’t get the chance to admire him. Everything is a blur, the throwing of clothes, the way he’s shoving you back down to the grass as his fingers unclasp your bra. The straps fall down your arms, and Logan slips it off the rest of the way.

He pauses, taking you in, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, lowering himself back down over you, balancing on one forearm as his free hand slides up your stomach, over your ribs, finally settling on your chest. He cups your tits, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over one nipple and then the other.

“Perfect. You’re so goddamn perfect,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and then to your chin. He continues his trail down to your jaw, your collarbone, the center of your chest.

He takes a detour, his lips latching onto your nipple and biting lightly, his tongue flicking out and soothing the ache away. He kisses across the valley of your chest, bringing his mouth to the other side. He flits his tongue across your other nipple, and continues his trail down your stomach, peppering innocent kisses as he travels lower and lower.

He stops at the hem of your shorts, looking up at you under hooded eyes. You can see the lust, the desire, the need. “Please,” you whimper. And then he’s hastily unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts, wasting no time as he hooks his fingers into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, yanking them down your legs and throwing them carelessly into the grass.

Logan pushes your thighs open. “Keep your legs spread for me, sweetheart.” You can feel his breath on your clit. “Wanna taste you,” he rasps, kissing your core teasingly. “Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

And then his tongue is pushing through your folds, lapping at your juices, all the way up to your clit. It’s already too much, your hips lifting off the grass. Logan brings his arm across your hips in response, keeping you down. “Stay,” he grunts, his voice vibrating against your heat. “Don’t know where you think you’re going, princess.” He’s looking up at you now. You can see the desperation and the hunger in his eyes.

He's starving for you.

He buries his face back into your cunt, swiping his tongue through your folds again before finally settling on your clit. He latches his lips around the bud, sucking harshly. He flicks his tongue out, drawing sweet, sacrilegious circles against your core.

His free hand climbs up your inner thigh, spreading your legs wider for him. His nails ghost across your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He finds his way to your folds, spreading your slick, teasing your entrance. You moan his name as he presses your squirming hips down firmly into the ground. “Doing so good for me,” he breathes against your swollen clit. “Such a sweet fucking pussy.”

He sinks two fingers deep into your cunt, humming against you, savoring the taste of you. He pumps in and out, deeper every time. “F-fuck Lo,” you cry out, your hands grasping the blades of grass beneath you for purchase. “Feels so good.”

Your walls flutter around him, your muscles already contracting as he works you open. “That’s it, princess,” he huffs, his teeth grazing your clit as he sucks, hard. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers, can feel you getting close.”

“S-so close,” you choke out as he fucks his fingers into you. His pace becomes faster, relentless. He laps at you like he’s a man who has never eaten in his life.

“I know, sweetheart,” he soothes. “Come on my tongue, darlin’. Know you can do it.” He’s working you through it, swirling his tongue, flicking your clit, licking thick, hard stripes around the bud. His long fingers scissor inside you, rubbing against your walls deliciously. It’s all too much, but it’s just what you need. “Let go for me, pretty girl.”

You feel your walls contract as the fire in your belly spills. You chant his name—Logan. It’s a prayer—no—a promise. It hangs in the air as you come undone underneath him. His fingers pump in and out of you slowly, helping you ride out your orgasm. He carefully pulls out after a few more thrusts, but his face is still buried in your cunt, still lapping at your swollen, overstimulated clit.

“Lo,” you whimper, looking down at him. He looks up at you, his tongue licking one long stripe before he stops completely.

He presses a chaste kiss to your clit as he sits up and unbuckles his belt. “Gonna have to taste that pretty pussy again later, yeah?” He throws his belt to the side and unbuttons his jeans. He slides the zipper down, too, and hooks his fingers inside his jeans, shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs in one quick movement.

You can make out just how big he is in the moonlight. You swallow at the size of him. He lowers down onto you again, resting on his forearm, guiding his cock towards your entrance.

He captures your lips in a kiss as he nudges against you, teasing you, spreading your folds open for him. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he coos, kissing you again. “Gonna make you feel good.”

You wrap your arms around his back, bringing his chest flush to yours. “Need you, Logan. Need you inside me.”

“I know,” he whispers, nudging teasingly against you again. “I know.”

And then he’s shoving himself deep inside you, filling you up. You can feel his cock twitching, throbbing, searching for more of you. He pulls all the way out and buries himself back down to the hilt.

“F-fuck,” you curse, your nails digging into his shoulders, searching for support. “It’s s-so much. So big.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he husks, setting a slow, easy pace, letting you adjust to the size of him. “Taking me so good.” He’s working you open with every pump, his cock rubbing against your walls and stretching you out.

Logan brings his free hand between your bodies to your still-swollen clit, stroking gently as he plunges deeper into you, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You moan his name, your chest coming flush with his as you arch your back. The contact feels so nice—just what you needed. He’s fucking you out, pounding into you over and over again.

He's erasing every fear, every bad dream, every horrible vision you’ve ever had. It’s what he does to you. It’s just him—Logan—always has been and always will be.

“Such a good girl,” he grunts. “Letting me fuck you out here.” His hips snap against yours—building his pace, growing faster and deeper as he thrusts into you. You can feel yourself growing closer, crumbling underneath him. You can’t last much longer, your walls fluttering around him, squeezing him tightly.

He moans your name into your mouth, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip, tasting you. “You feel so good, pretty girl,” he groans, rocking into you. “So soft, so tight. Know you’re close.” He flicks your clit, and then circles roughly. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.”

“G-gonna…” You trail off, a bumbling mess, unable to finish your sentence as Logan fucks into you.

“I know, pretty girl,” He soothes. “I’m right here, I’ve got you. Come for me.”

You can’t hold back anymore. You can feel yourself letting go, your walls fluttering around him, taking him deeper, holding him tighter. Your orgasm washes over you, like sun stretching across your skin, like a fire spreading in a forest. It’s all too much, too good.

Logan isn’t far behind. You can feel his cock twitching deep inside you, his pace faltering, his thrusts becoming sloppier. His fingers leave your clit and travel up your body. His hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you gently as he pumps into you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Wanna come inside you, pretty girl,” he moans, pulling you closer, taking you deeper.

You nod against his forehead. “P-please,” you stutter, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Don’t want you to leave yet.”

“F-fuck,” he growls, your words sending him over the edge as he spills inside you, filling you up. “You’ve idea,” he chokes, “how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” His thrusts slow as he rides out his orgasm, pumping in and out a few more times before pulling out of you.

He doesn’t break contact—doesn’t rush to get changed. He rolls onto his back and pulls you with him so that your head rests on his chest, your body tucked tightly into his. You can hear his heart beating deep inside—hear his shaky breaths become more stable. The air is no longer cold—the breeze a welcome contrast to the hot summer night air.

Your legs tangle together. Somewhere in the distance birds sing. A branch creaks. The wind whisks through the grass. You close your eyes and listen. The calm before the storm. This peace can’t last.

“Lo?” You call, breaking the silence.

He kisses the crown of your head. “I’m right here.”

“I know, but—”

It’s like he can read your mind. “I’m not going anywhere. No one is.” He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“I’m just scared to lose you, to lose all this.”

Logan presses another kiss to your head. “I know,” he murmurs. “But I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. I promise.”

Nothing’s gonna take you from my side.

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tac-the-unseen · 5 months ago

Text

Slapping Slasher's Ass and Running away!

Micheal Myers:

•He likes to believe he has complete control over his surroundings

•He likes to imagine himself as a Jaguar; opportunistic, stealthy, adaptable, and an Apex predator

•And then there's you, here to snap them back to reality

•If he's a Jaguar, you're an annoying bird that follows him

•All this made clear when He's just standing in the kitchen and feels a hard smack on his Ass

•He whips his head around to see you, running at full speed and giggling

•For a moment he's completely stunned

•But only for a moment

•He’s quick on your heels

•In less than 10 seconds he's holding you in the air by your shirt, like holding a cat by its scruff

•You can immediately tell through the mask how pissed he is

•But for a few seconds he just leaves you suspended in the air, and soon enough he makes his decision.

•He walks to your shared bedroom and drops you onto the bed

•You think you're in for some sexy-funtime

•That quickly washes away when Michael turns around and walk out the door

•When you get up to follow you find that he's locks you in by putting a chair under the handle

•This man is so sick of your shit, but loves you too much to actually harm you

•He just put you in time out while he waits for the stinging on his ass to go away

Billy loomis & Stu macher:

•When the school day ends you're walking towards the front door, you spot both of your boyfriends walking towards the door too

•With the coast clear of teachers and most other students you knew what you had to do

•You rub your hands together diabolically and begins to run towards them

•when you're finally in the perfect position, you wind your hands back and as hard as you can, you slap their ass

•They both tense up and freeze

•When they see you running past them and laughing, they are quick to give chase

•They Chase you down the field and into the parking lot

•Stu was the one to tackle you onto the grass, making sure to protect your head when you fall

•Stu pins you down while Billy catches up

•When (a winded) Billy reaches you two he drops to his knees and starts tickling you

•Neither boy takes to seriously and think it's a playful invention to rough house and playfully fight

Thomas Hewitt:

•While he was meticulously cutting up some cow legs, you spotted a golden opportunity

•Thom’s fat ass in perfect position

•After circling him, carrying the same box of tools, you decide to go for the kill

•”Tommy!” You shout while running past him

•Your hand makes firm contact with the side of his rear

•You leave a blazing trail up the stairs while Thom processes what happened

•Thom watches you run away while his ass stings

•At most he's confused

•He just goes back to work

Bubba Sawyer:

•You were playing with him outside

•Running around, picking flowers, picking up pebbles, roughhousing

•While play fighting you slap is ass and run away hoping he would chase you

•instead he stands for confused

•after an awkward couple seconds, you realize he's not going to chase you, So you walk back to him

•You ask if He's okay and realize his eyes is watering

•After a frantic apology and check over You managed to figure out that he's not hurt

•Bubba Just associates spanking with being bad/bad behavior

•He was upset because he thought you were punishing him for being too rough

•You made it up to him by making him a flower crown

Bo Sinclair:

•This could go one of two ways

•He could be really into it OR he could freak out

•It depends on what mood you catch him in

•One day he'll think it's sexy and want you to do it again

•The next he'll have a PTSD attack remembering his childhood

•It's honestly best if you keep your hands to yourself

Vincent Sinclair:

•He honestly thought you did it by accident

•He didn't understand that you were trying to play

•He didn't react at all

•You have to tell him what you're trying to do

•He gets very embarrassed about not understanding that he kind of shut down for the day

•He remains hunched over on his desk for the rest of the day

Lester Sinclair:

•It honestly doesn't matter what you do to Lester, He's just happy you're giving him attention

•The man is the definition of a puppy

•He's just happy to be here

•So if you want to play a game of Chase, He’lll Chase

•As soon as you slap and run away he's hot on your heels

•He chases you through a field and down the roads

•When he catches you he's out of breath and takes a second to dry heave

•Then he'll hug and kiss you while walking back to the Truck

Billy Lenz:

•Billy is one of the characters you Can not hit

•You think he'd be into to quick slap, but he has the opposite reaction

•He thinks you're planning on hurting him And will either attack you or hide

•If he chooses to attack, You're likely going to have to hold him down until he calms

•If he hides, leave him alone

•trying to find him would be like walking into a coyote's den

•eventually he'll come back out because you're the only person that still talks to him

•He figures it's better to be physically abused than be lonely

•Good luck explaining that it was just a joke

Brahms Heelshire:

•He was acting up after you told him the grocery boy was coming today

•He was whining about how you don't need to interact with him and how the help shouldn't be seen or heard

•You remind them that you're technically ‘the help’ and he pouts on the couch

•When the doorbell rings he immediately jumps up to try to stop you

•You have a light bulb moment

•You get closer, reach around, and slap his ass

•You almost immediately push past him to run to the door

•Brahms is quick to follow, but not quick enough

•You swing open the door before Brahms can reach you

•He hides just in time, and proceeds to stew behind the door.

Hannibal Lecter:

•While he was cooking up some breakfast you come up behind him and hug him

•He greets you and continues to cook

•You two have a lazy conversation while you lean your head against his shoulders

•Deciding he's not pay enough attention to you come up with a plan

•You steal one of his knives, slap his ass, and bolt out of the kitchen

•He gives you about a 5-second Head start before he begins his hunt

•In that time He turns off the stove and allows himself time to find you

•He slowly starts his prowl

•Checking doors, behind furniture, around the stairs, and behind curtains

•When he finds you, he pounces and pulls you into a pinning hug

•He forces the knife from your hand and kisses your forehead

•”Let me finish breakfast, then I'll spend time with you.”

Will Graham:

•While on the world's most boring fishing trip (Will Even admitted this trip sucked) You watch as no lines get tugged

•board out of your mind you decide to at least mess around

•While Will was leaning over to check his lines you slap his ass as hard as to can, which throws him into the calm river

•You howl with laughter as Will get thrown overboard

•When he resurfaces we comes back up with a scowls on his lips, but a playful look in his eyes

•”You suck” he chuckles while you help him back in

•As soon as he's on board, he throws you into the water and laughs

The Lost Boys:

•All the boys are up for a good chase, But they all have different reactions

•David

-Slapping David's ass takes balls

-As soon as you try to run he has you by the arm

-He smirks and pulls you towards him

-”Oh-ho-ho, where do you think you're going?”

-If you play your cards right he'll let you go to properly chase you

-All’s well and good before he flies at you like a hawk

•Dwayne

-He'll let you run away But as soon as you're out of sight the game is on

-It doesn't matter where you're at

-The boardwalk, the cave, the forest, the beach

-He sprints and tackles you to the floor

-”Did you honestly believe you could outrun a vampire?” He muses

-could turn playful, could turn romantic

•Paul

-as soon as your hand collides with his ass, he shrieks

-He playful pretends he's wounded

-He writhes on the ground, cries fake tears, hand over forehead

-”Why should you do this to me!”

-”I thought you loved me!”

-Walks around all day telling his brothers that you abuse him

-gives you love bites while telling his tale of woe

•Marko

-when you slap his ass he lets out a moan that causes both of you to freeze

-after a few seconds Marko whips around

-”Tell no one.” He says in a completely serious voice

-You know for a fact the others would make fun of him for the rest of his unnatural life

-Every time you're behind him, he turns around to face you So it never happens again

Thanks for reading <3

Sorry this took so long! I've had a busy week!

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catiaadao · 1 year ago

Photo

Kids Room - Toddler Small elegant gender-neutral light wood floor kids' room photo with beige walls

#playhouse under stairs #toddler #beige house white trim #front door lantern #toddler play area #indoor kids play area

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issysh3ll · 3 months ago

Text

Blush ♡ Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Matt is embarrassed when you catch him watching edits of you but he can’t deny how much he likes it Warnings: Sub! Matt, smut, masturbation, humiliation kink, teasing, tears, blushing Wordcount: 2.3k

a/n: I was going to edit this and fix it up a bit before posting but I keep forgetting and don’t want to make you guys wait any longer so here it is but it might be a bit rough

Silence fills the house, the only sounds to be heard are Nick’s gentle snoring and your soft footsteps as you carefully creep out of his room. Falling asleep has always taken you a long time, often finding yourself tossing and turning while you wait for sleep to creep up on you. Tonight has been much the same, and with Nick’s snoring now echoing through the room a trip to the kitchen was seeming more appealing than the boredom of silently waiting for slumber to take you.

Floorboards creak under your feet as you make your way down the stairs. The room is dark, the only light coming from a window above the sink where the moonlight spills into the area. Or so you thought, your eyes are drawn to another light source sitting at the kitchen bench. Matt’s phone balances in his hand, his eyes glued to the screen. The light dancing across his face as he scrolls, music plays quietly with each video he lands on.

“Oh hey, i didn't know you were still up�� Matt says, quickly switching his phone off and dropping it onto the bench clumsily. The dim lighting of the room makes it hard to tell but you could swear you could see a slight pink tinge running across his cheeks as he fidgets awkwardly with his phone case. Ignoring the behavior, you head straight to the fridge, leaning forwards to grab a water and throwing your reply over your shoulder, “yeah, I just came down for a drink. Nick’s snoring.” You turn around as the fridge door closes, unscrewing the water bottle now in your hand and meet Matt’s eyes. “What were you watching?” you ask before bringing the water to your lips and gulping down a few mouthfuls.

Matt’s eyes widen at your question and the pink hue on his cheeks becomes more obvious. “Oh uh, nothin’ really. Just, uh, some videos. Ya’ know, just passing the time.” He clears his throat as he speaks, trying to shrug and act nonchalant but his nervous energy is very clear. Intrigued, you place the water bottle down on the bench and raise an eyebrow at Matt as you question him again, “really? It sounded like you were watching TikTok edits…”

Matt's eyes widen, his cheeks now flushing a deep shade of crimson. Embarrassment bubbles inside his chest – you are the last person he would want to be caught by. His hands fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie, tugging and twisting on the gray fabric as he clears his throat again. “H-how did you.. I mean, yeah, maybe. It’s just so catchy and easy to get lost in, ya’ know?”

“Mhmm, so who’s edits were you watching Matt? You’re blushing like crazy.” You tease, gesturing at his face. He quickly turns away avoiding your keen stare, silently willing his cheeks to stop burning. Embarrassment and something else flickering in his eyes. You watch, intrigued as he chews on his lip nervously, eyes glued to the floor as he stutters and stammers out the beginnings of an answer before trailing off and muttering, “it doesn’t matter”.

You step around the kitchen bench, now standing on the same side as him. Through the dim lighting you can see his throat bob as he swallows nervously at your proximity. A small chuckle crosses your lips with a small smirk growing. “Go on, tell me. It’s ok matty, don’t be embarrassed. Who was it?” You taunt, stepping closer again. Matt’s eyes remain firmly glued to the ground as he shakes his head.

You know that Matt has always been shy, especially around you, but despite his efforts to hide it you have always noticed how his behavior changes when you’re around. The way he always blushes when you make eye contact, or the way he always does anything you ask him to. The answer to your question is very clear in your mind but you’re determined to make Matt admit it.

You take another step forward, now standing between matts legs as they hang off the kitchen stool. You reach a hand out to Matt's chin, tilting his head up slightly, forcing him to meet your gaze as you repeat your question, “Who was it, Matt?”

Matt’s breath hitches at your touch on his chin, his heart beating out of his chest and his cheeks burning as he stares up into your eyes. The intensity of your gaze makes his stomach flip as he forces his voice out, “It… it was you” he admits, his voice cracking, “I-I can’t help it, ya’ know?” He stammers, the deep crimson color on his cheeks spreading down his neck as he squirms under your gaze.

Too nervous to look at you, his eyes flick anxiously around the room. You chuckle slightly and tighten your grip on his jaw as you lean your face down. “Aw look at you, so desperate to see more of me you had to watch little videos on your phone, huh? But now that I'm actually here you can’t even look at me? Come on Matt, look at me”.

Matt gulps, your fingers cold against the hot, flushed skin of his face. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from your lips now, watching intently as they move with your teasing words. Embarrassment burns through his body, his cheeks practically on fire and yet he still feels a pang of desire with each touch, each movement. His desire spreads through his body causing a warmth to rise in his crotch. Matt shuffles his hips, trying to hide the way his body is reacting.

Your eye’s flick down to follow Matt’s fidgeting and the cause becomes clear as you see the tent forming in his sweatpants, his hands rushing down in an attempt to cover it. A small chuckle rises in your throat, entertained by the way Matt’s bids to hide his growing bulge are only making it more prominent. You return your gaze to Matt’s face to find that his eyes are screwed shut in shame and his lip quivers slightly as he utters out a shaky “I- I’m sorry.”

You smile softly at him and tilt his chin up slightly, Matt peaking one eye open slightly to see your reaction. Your thumb strokes gently against his jaw as you speak, “hmm you like that don’t you? You like that I caught you? C’mon open your eyes Matty, look at me when you answer.”

Matt’s breath hitches as he hesitantly peels his eyes open again. He watches as your teasing gaze flicks down again to the growing bulge in his pants, a small twitch jumping through his cock as your eyes land on it once more. He bites his lip before answering shakily, “I… Yes.”

You chuckle lowly and run your thumb across his jaw to his lip, pulling it out from between his teeth, “you’re just so desperate for my attention?” You ask teasingly, your thumb grazing lightly over Matt’s bottom lip again, “You can’t help it can you? I can see your cock twitching already baby.”

Matt’s cheeks burn hotter at your words and he bites his lip again, a pitiful whimper leaving his lips as the fabric of his sweatpants rubs against his growing erection. His embarrassment of being caught, being teased like this is consuming him but he can’t deny the way it feeds his desire for you even more, “Please…”

“Hmm? Please what baby?” you coo back at him, leaning your face closer just inches away from his.

Matt squirms under your touch, his cock pulsing against his sweatpants. “Please, just touch me,” his voice barely above a whisper. He knows it’s humiliating, but the urge to have your hands on him is overwhelming, “I need it,” He admits.

You shake your head and tsk your teeth, “aw look at you, poor baby so desperate to be touched you’re begging.” Your grip on his jaw releases and you move your hand to cup his cheek, gently stroking your thumb along the flushed skin. You place your other hand lightly on his leg, tracing your fingertips softly up and down his thigh.

Matt’s breath hitches in his throat and he leans his face into your palm, a needy whimper escaping his lips. The gentle contact on his thigh making his cock twitch in anticipation. He looks up at you through his lashes with pleading eyes, his pupils dilated with desire, “Please… I need more.”

“More? Hm, you think you deserve more, Matty? Are you gonna be a good boy?”

Matt nods eagerly, a bead of sweat forming on his brow as he anticipates your next move. “Yes, I promise. I’ll be a good boy. I just need you, please,” he begs, his hips thrusting upwards in a silent plea for more contact.

You chuckle slightly at his desperation and point to his hips as you speak playfully, “aw look at you, so desperate you’re humping nothing. How pathetic.” Your fingers run up his thigh again, this time moving further up until your hand is hovering just above where he wants it.

A soft whine falls from Matt’s lips, his hands clenching into fists around the sleeves of his hoodie to steady himself. He arches into your touch, desperate for more friction. His voice is thick with need as he pleads “please, don’t stop”.

Your palm on his cheek trails down to grip his jaw tightly again, pulling his face towards yours slightly as you speak close to his mouth. “Hmm? No, if you’re so desperate to be touched you can do it yourself. Let me see how pathetic you are for me baby, you’re gonna hump my hand, ok?” Your hand pressing down slightly against the bulge in his pants.

Matt’s eyes widen at your command, a mix of embarrassment and arousal filling his mind. He knows it's degrading, but the thought of humping your hand turns him on even more and he nods with a small whimper. He starts to grind up against your palm, the friction making his cock throb in his pants. The pleasure rippling through him from just your palm causes his embarrassment to rise with each thrust. The red color of his cheeks growing as he works to get himself off on your hand. His eyes avoid yours, instead staring shyly at the ground, not wanting you to see how much pleasure he is deriving from so little of you. The humiliation of finding this much enjoyment in something so demeaning is pricking at Matt’s mind.

“Keep your eyes on mine Matt,” you warn, tightening your grip on his jaw, “I want to see how much you like it.”

Matt hesitates but the tight grip on his jaw forces him to look at you. His brows are knitting together with pleasure, his lips parted as small moans and whimpers pour out with each movement. “That’s it baby, let me hear you too. I wanna hear those pathetic little pretty whimpers.” you coo, pressing your hand down slightly, increasing the pressure against his cock as his movements speed up.

Your words fuel his shame, and yet it also intensifies the pleasure coursing through his body. A choked whimper escapes his lips followed by a series of soft, desperate groans as he grinds harder against your palm. He feels utterly humiliated, but he can’t stop himself from seeking your touch, your approval.

“Yeah good boy, you like being humiliated don’t you? Feels so good being my pathetic little play thing, huh?”

His moans grow louder, hips jerking erratically as he gets closer to the edge. Your degrading words only add to his arousal. “Yes, yes…” he pants, his voice dripping with submission, “i’m your pathetic baby.”

“Hmm good boy, so good for me aren’t you.” You can feel his cock twitching beneath the fabric of his sweatpants more and more. Matt now struggling to keep his eyes open as they roll back in pleasure. “Look at you,” you chuckle, “you can’t even keep your eyes on me. You gonna cum in your pants, Matty?”

Matt whimpers pathetically at your laughter, a mixture of shame and pleasure twisting at his insides. Tears well up in his eyes as he weakly tries to regain your gaze. His hips bucking uncontrollably, and with a muffled cry, he spills his release. Ropes of thick white liquid squirting into his pants with each twitch of his cock. His body shudders as his grinding slows.

You shake your head and tsk your teeth at him, pulling your grip on his jaw to force his eyes towards the wet patch on his pants. “Look at that, you just couldn’t help it could you?” you tease, pulling his face back up again to face you. “You just had to make a mess of your pants, hm?”

His gaze returns to your face, the tears that had been welling up in his eyes from the overwhelming pleasure now spilling slowly out of the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks. You release your grip on his jaw, moving your hand to wipe away his tears gently and cup his cheek. “Aw, are you crying? So embarrassed about how desperate you are? Isn’t this what you wanted, Matty?”

Matt sniffles, nodding his head slowly as you wipe away the last of his tears. He still can’t meet your eyes but clings to the touch on his cheek. “Yes… I wanted it so bad. Just – couldn’t help myself, felt too good.” He admits, his voice quiet and shameful.

You stroke your thumb comfortingly across his cheek. Matt leans into your touch, grateful for the affection. Your voice contrasts with the soft loving actions as you hum sarcastically “hmm poor baby, no self control, i bet you want more don’t you?”

All my works → here

a/n: what do we think of this one? this is obviously alot longer than my other ones

Taglist: @bernardsbendystraws @gxldenlush @scligit @sturniolo-fann @submattenthusiast @sturni0l0 @colorthecosmos444 @rainuhh @bambi-slxt @evie-sturns

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luveline · 2 months ago

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Can you write where the reader walks into James room and he's crying and its the first time shes seen him cry so she comforts him pls xx

thank you for your request! fem, 1.2k

James’ house is a sanctuary to everyone he’s ever met. There are scratches on the wall by the door where Sirius has thrown it open, long deep welts of ruin under a drunken hand, two best friends laughing to the bedroom where they share a bed. You’re used to Sirius by now, an extension of James you love and make room for, but waking up to the heir of the most noble family in London sleeping off a hangover with his face buried in your boyfriend's shoulder still surprises you. His snores never change.

Then there’s Remus, the sweetheart, tracking dirt into the living room because he so often forgets he’s wearing shoes, distracted by a book or a thought he shares in half smiles knowing James will listen.

You’re everywhere. In photos like the rest of them, in your coat on the hook, your clean washing on the stairs, your shoes in the bedroom cupboard. There’s a red smudge of your lipstick on the wall at the top of the stairs where James wiped your bottom lip and then used the wall to hang over you, kissing. He keeps meaning to paint over it, you know. He says the same thing every time you bring it up, a laughing, “I’ll get to it, you thing!”

You’re used to smiles and sounds here. You aren’t acquainted with this. Sniffles from the bedroom, long, stringing gulps of air and the answering sob. It makes your chest flip. James hasn’t cried in front of you in a year of dating and two years of knowing him. James doesn’t even get pissed off unless it’s for somebody else. Something awful must’ve happened. You rush to find out what.

In the bedroom, James is just sitting there falling apart. Just, sat on the bed, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking like an awful jagged up and down, like he’s hurting; the shock of it is in every inch of movement. James is beautiful in everything, skin and hands and dark, dark hair, but he’s hurting now as he drags fingers wet with tears through frizzing curls. He must have heard you coming up but he can’t stop, lifting his chin, an apology twisted in his mouth that he doesn’t say aloud.

“Lovely, what happened?” you ask, sure you’re gonna fall through the floor. “What happened? What–”

You aren’t giving him time to answer. You need to know.

“No, it’s alright–”

“It’s not alright,” you say, standing in front of him with stiff arms. “What happened, James?”

“It’s okay.” He cries a little, sniffs, looking up at you with swimming eyes. “It’s alright, I’m just– it’s just– well, it’s just everything, I suppose, but it’s…” He looks down, his mouth twisting again in an apology you don’t want to take. He shakes himself.

“James, what’s everything?”

“Silly stuff.” James takes your hand. Telling, that a boy who’s spent his entire life looking after the people he loves would attempt to comfort you with tears still hot on his cheeks.

You look down at his long fingers.

James plays piano. He learned your favourite song for you before he’d ever asked you out, and when he’d played it for you, he’d played so beautifully you felt sick for days, felt sick every time you thought of him, but in the moment he’d laughed at your teary eyes and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. Lovely girl, he’d said, laughing, I won’t play it again if you’re gonna cry like that.

You figure he must want comfort as he gives it, wrapping your arms around him to steer him toward a soft kiss, his hair like strands of satin under your lips. “Nothing that upsets you like this could ever be silly.”

He pushes you away. Not without love, but pushing away regardless. He stands in the space you leave and wipes his cheeks with the backs of his hands. It’s nearly like he’s dancing. Just the way his arms move. But then he drops them and turns away from you, your heart plummeting to your stomach.

“James.”

“It’s not like that. I was hoping I’d be done before you got home. Should we go out for dinner or something?”

“James–”

“What?” he asks, smiling, at odds with his sad eyes. “Love, it’s really fine, I’m fine.” Love. You let out a long breath, chest a cold ache slowly warmed by his gaze. There’s care for you in every eyelash, but it still shocks you when he hugs you. “It’s okay. Sorry I scared you.”

James. “Fucking hell, Jamie, I’m not scared, I want you to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it for you.”

He chokes on breath. “I’m fine,” he says. He doesn’t believe it himself, a crack running straight through his words. “Sorry,” he says, sickly, kissing the top of your head as you’d kissed his.

Clearly he’s not going to let you be the one domineering the situation, but that’s okay. He can kiss your head and hold you on the edge of too tight. You slip a hand under the edge of his T-shirt to stroke his back, until your hand is numb to it, and he’s sagging against you heavily.

“You’re really not fine, I can see that much.”

He’s quiet, but you can tell there’s something he wants to say.

“But that’s okay,” you say, hand clasping his back . You pat a steady rhythm there as he sighs. “It really is. I don’t know why you think you have to be finished crying before I get home, but that’s not true. You can cry. You can cry buckets. Please don’t pretend you’re not upset because of me, I’d feel so bad.”

Something hot and wet touches your forehead. “M’sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” You pull back to pat his cheek.

James stares at you. Tears well in usually warm eyes and get caught in the wet hedge of his lashes. You try to wipe them away before they can fall —you don’t wanna see your sweetheart crying.

“Don’t frown,” he says softly.

“I’m trying not to. Here, let me,” —you wipe his cheeks with your sleeve, voice a muttering thing as his skin pinks beneath your touch— “just get that there for you. Your eyes are red, Jamie, I hope you haven’t been upset for too long.”

“No, uh. No, not too long.”

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong? I’d like to know.”

James’ face presses to your neck in seconds. He pauses, and then he sobs. That’s more like it. You stand there in the bedroom until your legs are stiff, and then you only move to lay him down in bed to be your little spoon. “It's not fine,” you say, your arm around him, the other playing in the swirl of his parting, “but it will be. You’re really too handsome for all these tears.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

He sounds sweet when he’s trying to make you laugh. You reach over him to kiss his hot cheek.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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vvampirelust · 4 months ago

Text

thinking about ice hockey player!abby

warnings: smut, 18+, dom!abby, sub!reader, strap on sex, spanking, quite rough sex, mentions of alcohol consumption, not proof read

that girl would get veryyyy possessive

she’s the star player, hell practically the star of campus. (frat!abby??) having been the captain back on her old high school team, she’s earned a name for herself.

so of course she’s gonna adore you in her jersey. surprising her post-game as you celebrate her victory, snug in her blue hockey hoodie #13 adorning the back. abby picks you up when you finally get to see her, kissing you with force, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. “did you see that?!” she’s asking excitedly, and there’s nothing you love more than seeing the passionate shine in her eyes as she recalls her last goal. you join her and the team for a celebratory beer in the parking lot, reminiscing and cheering loudly about the best moments.

“nice hoodie, babe,” abby calls from behind you as you both walk back to your car. abby, the few steps latter was enjoying the view with a smirk on her lips. you match her smile, twirling once in front of her, pulling a laugh from her throat, “you like? found it under my bed, wonder who left it there,” you shrug, a lightness to your voice. abby catches up to you, strong arms hugging you to her chest, faux gasp leaving her lips, “we’ll never know,” she breaks off into a chuckle and you can’t help but join her, shoving her with a roll of your eyes.

back home, you had abby pressed against the inside of her door. her dad away on a conference in seattle meant you and abby have been playing wife in her beach house for the past week. she set a challenge to fuck you anywhere and everywhere possible. who would complain? “baby. baby,” you’re both lost in the kids you’re sharing. the flat of your palms find her chest, pushing her softly against the door. “wait here two minutes, take your clothes off and i’ll meet you in the bedroom,” you speak lowly, flashing her the eyes as a coy smile spreads on your lips.

abby audibly groans, “fuck, go. now.” she orders, not wanting to wait any longer.

approximately 1 minute and 29 seconds later, abby finds you in nothing but her jersey, sprawled across the kingsized bed like a pornstar. she bites her lip as she takes you in, you’re so slutty, she thinks, she loves it. she makes a note to tease you for it at some point. “look at you, pretty girl,” she admires, those icy eyes never leaving your body, even as she walks around the side of the bed, “that all for me?” abby asks, breaking her gaze to bend over. just the sound of that specific drawer opening has your thighs rubbing together. her question fell on deaf ears, you too busy staring at your smokeshow of a girlfriend. she had done what you’d said, a pile of clothes on the stairs waiting to be tripped over in the morning. but god, the sight was worth it. your eyes trail the curve of her ass as she was rummaging, you’re near drooling over the way her back muscles shift beneath her tanned skin. abby smirks when she stands to face you again, busying herself with buckling the strap. abby clears her throat;

“baby.” your eyes find hers, “focus.”

head bobbing in a nod, you swallow the whimper threatening to escape. “i asked, if this was all for me? hm? you look so sexy in my hoodie babe,” abby crawls over where you are pushed up on your elbows, caging your body with hers. “you played so well out there tonight, anderson. thought you deserved it,” you tell her sweetly, inviting her in with open legs. abby chuckles, moving one big hand to cup the inside of your knee, ever so slowly sliding up your inner thigh. “gettin’ pussy for a good game, do i?” she’s smug, taking hold of what’s hers. you, now unbearably horny starts nodding, “yeah!”

“yeah, sweetheart?” she mocks the high pitch of your voice, lazily nodding along with you. “fuck me, you’re so wet,” thick fingers push between your folds, “want it bad, don’t you baby?” abby grins, looking down at the mess between your legs. “please, abby.” you pull her hair to gain access to her mouth, been deprived too long of the feeling of her lips on yours. her tongue invades your warm mouth, throaty groan following suit, which you swallow happily. the kiss ends with a wet smack, abby’s heavy breaths now mingling with your own. “i know, i know. i’m gonna fuck you, don’t worry. and you’re gonna keep that hoodie on, okay?”

“please baby, please fuck m-“ you can barely finish your sentence before she’s using those strong arms to flip you onto all fours, abby’s jersey hitching around your waist. you can feel the weight of her pretty pink strap against your thigh, ass wiggling in anticipation. abby responds with a surprisingly hard spank, jolting you onto your elbows as a yelp passes your lips. “abby, baby, please!” you feel the warmth of her free hand sliding up your spine, hiking her hoodie up, allowing her to see the arch of your back along with the word ‘Anderson’ boldly written in white along your shoulders. “fuck,” she moans.

a strong hand grasps your hip, you can hear abby spit behind you followed by her panting heavily. you whimper when you feel her tip splitting your slick folds, wasting no time as she begins to thrust inside of you. pushing deeper with each small rut of her hips, relishing in your little “uh, uh, uhs” abby does this until she bottoms out, your cunt stuffed and throbbing. “that’s it, you always take me so well baby.” abby grips your hips tight.

she fucks you with the same aggression she portrayed on the rink earlier that night. your chest flush against the mattress, your loud moans still echoing through the bedroom, even with your face smushed into the pillows, leaving a wet patch of drool and tears in your wake. using your hips to set the pace, she pulls you back on her cock, profanities slipping past her lips . “such a slut for me, fucking look at this pussy, squeezing so tight,” she moans so prettily, her clit rubbing against the strap just right. she stares at her surname as she gets off, the pace of her thrusts quickening, hurtling towards her climax. the sound of her moans shoot straight to your lower stomach, clenching tighter around her. “my fucking best girl, baby. just needed my lucky charm tonight,” abby huffs out, stuttering, “couldn’t have done it without you.”

abby cums with a cry, curling over your back, arms wrapping under your shoulders. her hips don’t falter for a second, riding out her high while pushing you to your own. at the last moment, her fingers thread in your hair, tugging your head back so she could hear you clearly. she wanted to hear you scream for her, just like you did when she won her game.

“abs i’m- oh my god, abby!” you follow right behind her, practically mewling like a bitch in heat. you cum hard, creaming on your girlfriends cock, she fucks you through it. even as it means hurtling herself into overstimulation, whimpering in your ear until she feels your body beginning to tremble beneath her. abby pants, pushing herself up with a grunt. palms spreading your cheeks, she watches the way your cunt tries clinging to her cock as she slowly pulls out. you’re a whimpering mess, “abby,” you mourn the stretch. “m’right here,” she tells you breathlessly, her thumb running down your folds, circling your gaping hole, collecting the creamy cum leaking from you. her teeth find purchase within her bottom lip once again, taking a last look at the hoodie bunched around your top half. and at her name decorating it.

#abby anderson smut #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #lesbian #abby anderson x reader smut #abby smut #abby tlou #abby the last of us #wlw #the last of us smut #tlou x reader #ellie williams smut #ellabs #abby x reader #abby x you #abby the last of us smut #lesbian smut #sapphic

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kisskuni · 4 months ago

Text

“who did this to you?”

↳ he finds you injured / “who did this to you?” trope - [diluc, kaeya, wriothesley x gn!reader]

tags: injuries + mentions of blood/reader gets hurt. swearing. threats to kill people lol.

notes: wooo first genshin post.. i need to catch up on this game

diluc ━━━

the way adelinde stood outside of the winery, hands playing nervous with each other and shifting her weight, told diluc that something was wrong. his brows were pinned as he approached her.

“everything alright?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even and calm but there was a hint of worry underneath. something was wrong. something was definitely wrong.

adelinde cleared her throat before speaking, “y/n arrived about half an-”

diluc didn’t need to hear the rest. he moved past her and into the house, calling your name as he moved up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. he was already rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt; what exactly was wrong he didn't know, but he was more than willing to get his hands dirty.

he knocked on the door to your shared room only once before clicking the door open. there was a nurse next to the bed, but she wasn’t tending to you at the moment. she looked a little startled as he entered, but he paid her no mind.

he was kneeling at your bedside in a second. the nurse had taken a few steps back to give him space. he held your hand in his, his lips pressed against your knuckles.

“are you okay? what happened?” he asked, a little breathless, his eyes moving over you. there was a bandage wrapped around your abdomen, but he didn’t see any other injuries.

you nod and swallow dryly. “yeah… yeah ‘m alright.”

"bullshit." he mutters under his breath, eyes wandering over the wound. he wants to get a better look at it, but he knows the bandaging is fresh and he doesn't want to disturb it.

"i'll be fine, diluc... honest."

"who did this?" he asks, his voice suddenly a lot lower than before.

"...what?"

it almost startles you, the way small, almost unnoticeable flames flicker along the skin of diluc's forearms. his voice is calm, but strained, when he speaks, "who?"

"it was just some treasure hoarders, i'm-"

"where?"

"they're dealt with, diluc."

he stares at you for another few moments, eyes watching your face as if searching for some sort of sign that you were being dishonest. finally, he shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again. this time, when he speaks, his voice is much softer and caring than before.

"do you need anything?"

"i'm okay. some water, maybe?"

"of course," he hums, moving to press a kiss against your forehead. "just get some rest."

kaeya ━━━

you were supposed to be back an hour ago.

and yet, you weren't back.

he hates that he's pacing, hates that he feels so helpless. he should go find you. he should tell jean he's leaving, that he's not going to work for the rest of the day, that he's going to the outskirts of mondstadt to-

"kaeya!"

his head snaps up, his gaze falling to you. you were limping, why were- oh. there is a gash across your hip, bloody and staining your pants almost black, fading into red at the edges.

he's at your side as quickly as he can be. he's holding your shoulders, a silent plea not to move, not to put weight against the wound.

"shit- what happened? who did this to you?"

you swallow thickly, panting slightly. "just- i ran in to some people-"

"what kind of 'people'?"

"people that got taken care of, kaeya. i promise."

he stares at you for another few moment, a muscle ticking in his jaw. then he nods and moves to your injured side. he grabs your arm to drape it over his shoulders and around his neck, his other arm wrapping around you and pulling you into him.

"we're getting you inside, and safe, and then i'm going to make sure every last one is properly dealt with."

you shake your head at him, but don't say anything. you're grateful for the support on your leg and you weren't about to complain. slowly, he helps you hobble back to the city and slowly deposits you into an infirmary bed.

a nurse ushers kaeya away, and he spends the next twenty minutes pacing outside of the building, his arms crossed. finally, the door opens, and the same nurse sticks their head out of the door, "kaeya? you can come in."

he moves back into the building, maneuvering around people and equipment to kneel at your bedside.

"hey..." he says softly. his hand comes up to your face, back of his hand running affectionately across your cheek. "you feeling alright?"

you give him a small smile. "i'm fine."

"you are," he affirms. "but i still intend on finding the sons of bitches."

you frown at him, though it holds little heat. you study him for another moment before you give him a resigned sigh, "near cape oath."

he presses a kiss against your forehead, already standing up, "i'll be back before dark, my love."

wriothesley ━━━

wriothesley did not consider himself to be a violent person.

today, he was about to be.

it was the way you stumbled into his office, looking so worn out, blood draining down your face and down your chin. your lip was busted and a gash broke the skin near your temple, crimson trickling down your face and dripping onto his floor.

he’d been by your side before you could even utter a word, letting you lean against him and forcing you to sit on the floor. his thumb ran over the blood, as if trying to convince himself that this was real. that this had happened. likely in the fortress, no less.

had it been? no. there was no way. no one would harm someone so blatantly important to the duke… right?

he was pulled from his thoughts by a gentle grumble from you.

“give me a name.” he said, without really thinking about it. his voice was stern, and cold, and left no room for argument.

“what?” you blinked hard, seemingly trying to ground yourself.

“shit.” he cursed under his breath, helping you stand back up. why the hell you had come looking for him before medical attention, he’d never know.

still, he held you against him and helped you to the infirmary, whispering sweet affirmations under his breath the whole way. his string of ‘you are gonna be fine’s and ‘everything is gonna be alright’s dissipates as he slowly lowers you into an infirmary bed.

he straightens, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl twisting his face.

“who did this to you?” wriothesley asked again, this time more firmly.

you shake your head. “is… okay, wrio-”

“give me a goddamn name.” he asks again, and then his voice softens. “please.”

you watch him for another few moments before nodding and letting the person’s name fall from your lips. a muscle in his jaw ticks. he looks down to one of the melusines.

“i’ll be back in an hour. you tell me if they so much as twitch a finger weird.” he orders. he doesn’t wait for a reply, his jaw set as he moves out of the infirmary.

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