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finalgirllx · 4 months ago

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thunderstorms

took some heavy liberties with week 3 of @thatdammchickennugget and i's jinxed july challenge to write the forced proximity mattheo riddle fic of my dreams. i hope you enjoy it just as much as i do. and also big thanks to @pizzaapeteer for proofing, i love you! 2.5k words | fluff? i think | f!reader implied

Snap. Another twig breaks underneath the tattered soles of your shoes while you continue the trek along the less-traveled grove. The air is thick with the scent of wildflowers and earth, and sunlight filters down on you through the leafy branches, casting shadows on the greenery that litters the forest floor. It is pristine, seemingly unaffected by too much human activity.

That is until Mattheo and you embarked on an increasingly futile mission imposed by your one common interest - your mutual friend Enzo. He had eagerly insisted that it be the two of you that forage for an ingredient native to the area, claiming that adding it to a drink mix can get you wasted quicker than any brew sold in shops.

The pair of you had done well not to stumble too far from Enzo's parents' summer home. A generous invitation had been offered to your friend's group - a chance to relax and kick back there over the long weekend. A relatively secluded area, it is sparsely populated by second homes of the upper class or rickety cabins so old that not even magic can prevent them from slowly succumbing to the elements. Everyone tries to enjoy the spoils of the location's offerings, as it is a sweet spot to spend the few warmer months in Britain.

"Y'know, I am not an outdoorsy guy," Mattheo complains after another branch scrapes his forearm. "This is the dumbest mission Enzo could have sent us on."

"At least we can agree on one thing," you mutter exasperatedly. "I should have known you'd have no sense of your lefts and rights."

Two steps ahead of you, Mattheo pauses and looks back, his expression suggesting, 'You want to go there?' His brows raise, and his chocolate curls still fall perfectly over his forehead despite endless collisions with twigs and branches. Honestly, you were unsure if his looks or personality irked you more. You glare back so he knows exactly how you feel about the situation.

"Right, take no accountability for being one-half of why we are still out here," Mattheo responded in kind, then turning back to continue leading the way.

"You are rid-"

"Ridiculously handsome? I know. Come up with some new material, sweetheart," Mattheo interrupts with his unending cocky attitude. Preparing to unleash more insults, you are startled by the feeling of a cold drop on your head. Then another. And another.

A loud clap echoes above, booming in the sky, followed shortly by the rapid motion of overcast clouds moving in, blocking out any remaining sunlight. A second roar of thunder bursts, sending out another warning that a storm is fast approaching. The sudden singular drop quickly builds into a consistent shower, and the panic sets in over the both of you. Mattheo takes charge, gesturing for you to follow him and for once, you decide to take his lead without talking back, which might have been a mistake as you continue deeper into the forest and further away from the house.

Minutes felt like hours under the increasingly ceaseless downpour as you and Mattheo scrambled through the grove. Finally spotting an old cabin structure, you make a break for it and dash underneath the awning for some reprieve. Mattheo vigorously jiggles the knob of the dilapidated door, seeming to forget his wizarding abilities. Propelled by a clash of thunder, you watched Mattheo resort to brute force, managing to barrel through the door and get you two inside.

Solely focused on escaping the pouring sky, you follow him in while heaving from the chaos.

"Nice going, genius," you admonished Mattheo while catching your breath. "Forget a first-year unlocking charm?"

"Ungrateful as ever," Mattheo responds gruffly, his amusement overshadowed by temporary exhaustion as he steps over and shuts the door that is barely held up on its hinges. "See? I got you out of the rain, and the door still works."

The two of you take some time to shake yourselves off in a meager effort to eliminate that soaked feeling. Squeezing out your top, you silently curse at the unpleasantness of your damp hair that now clings to your face. You looked over and watched Mattheo shaking his head, his hair splattering leftover water all over the vicinity.

"You're like a wet dog," you feign disgust, unable to resist a chance to tease.

"What else am I expected to do?" Mattheo countered, brushing his hands through his hair and hoping for the best.

"Be more tasteful with it," you suggested, suppressing a snort afterward at your own poor choice of words.

"Tasteful? You seriously went with tasteful?" Mattheo caught on, his disgruntled look from the uncomfortable wet transforming into a grin. "Bloody hell, sweetheart, I know you love my perfect curls, but that really is the least of my concerns."

You coped by turning away to continue drying yourself off, hoping he did not see your disconcerted expression.

Once Mattheo reached a state of dampness he could live with, he stepped toward the intact windows to watch the storm outside. It was miraculous that a cabin as worse for wear as this one held its own against the onslaught.

"Well, we might be stuck here for some time. I suggest you get comfortable," Mattheo announced with a resigned sigh, glancing back to the room for potential spots to sit or, more accurately, the lack thereof. "The floor. The floor will do."

He follows through, eyeing spaces on the rickety floorboards to settle down. You roll your eyes at the idea, though the increasing weight of your legs after all that running starts to wear on you and beckon you down. So you give in, finding your own spot to settle, a perfectly reasonable distance from him. His eyes bore into you with an unreadable expression, a bit too analytical for your comfort. You are not too fond of him watching your every move. Not at all.

"Could you look elsewhere? I am not your prey to stalk," you finally snap.

"What? This is just how I look at things. You cannot blame me; it is either you or the rotting walls," Mattheo retorts, emphasizing his point with a gesture of his hands.

"Your eyes are… they look too hard!" you complain amidst a struggle to find the right way to explain why his gaze ruffled you so much.

"Too hard? She thinks I look too hard, whatever the hell that means. Salazar, help us, a true wordsmith in the midst," Mattheo complained to himself, ensuring his frustration was loud enough to invite further squabbling.

"I am just saying! Look elsewhere!" you insisted.

"I can't help it. You are more interesting-looking," Mattheo justified through gritted teeth, his increasing annoyance evident.

"Interesting-looking? And you accuse me of being unable to talk today. Is that meant to be a compliment?"

"Tell me you would not have my head if I called you pretty, so interesting it is!" Mattheo growled in a harsh but earnest tone. He shook his head, jaw clenched to the point of discomfort over what he admitted. Just to add to the pettiness, he scooted to face even further away from your direction.

This development undoubtedly took you by surprise, silencing you momentarily in your conversation. You always had a comeback for Mattheo, but this was the first time you had absolutely no clue how to retaliate.

"Pretty?" you repeated, pushing aside your dignity to clarify you had heard correctly.

"Yes, pretty," Mattheo confirmed, his voice huskier than the bellowing moments prior. "Is that such a shock to you?"

It honestly did feel like a shock. In all the time you had known each other, the words you exchanged were cheeky at best and plain disrespectful at worst. A more tender way of describing you was not something you expected to come from Mattheo at all.

"It is. I thought I was just your favorite punching bag," you admitted.

"Oh, please. Do you honestly believe I would answer you at all if I really could not stand you? Perhaps you are more dimwitted than I initially presumed."

"I just thought—"

"And given that I have seen you quite literally punch some poor bloke who truly bothered you, I assumed you fell into a similar train of thought, no?"

Hell, you hated it when he was right. Something about Mattheo kept you coming back for more in a way that couldn't simply be attributed to the proximity of your friend group. The feelings creeping up inside you now had less to do with being stuck in a cabin with him through a storm and more with how this predicament forced you to come to terms with how you truly felt. You visibly shifted where you sat as feelings you had no clue how to handle washed over you more intensely than the rain still pouring outside.

Mattheo rose again without warning and stalked around the cabin, this time on a mission.

"What are you doing?"

"A blanket, a towel. Something to warm you up," he replied, his attention fixed on his newfound goal, which was an insatiable need to help and protect you in your wetted state.

"You do not have to! It will probably be full of mildew should you even find one," you protested through your sheer surprise at his kind gesture.

Initially written off as too damp to use, the fireplace centered on the cabin's back wall was suddenly vital to Mattheo's mission. Finally remembering that he was a wizard, Mattheo reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wand, and crouched in front of the fireplace.

"Incendio…" he spoke the incantation, causing a flame to spout from his wand toward the firewood on top of the grate, hoping they were not too far gone from the elements.

To your shared relief, a small fire came to life before your eyes, its glow brightening your dampened spirits which was soon followed by an embrace of its much-needed heat.

"Yes!" Mattheo hissed excitedly, hurriedly gesturing you to come closer, and you did. The previous distance you had created no longer mattered, as you were now shoulder-to-shoulder with him for a chance to enjoy the warmth provided by the lit fireplace.

With the both of you too focused on warming up by the crackling flames and learning to ignore the blaring storm outside, peaceful silence hung in the air. A mutual respect arose between you as you ruminated over the afternoon's events.

You glanced at Mattheo, whose shoulder you were now definitely pressed against, and seized the opportunity to check him out shamelessly. He was right; that penetrative gaze remained even in his resting state. The light from the fire highlighted the warmth in his eyes that usually matched the dark of night, and his brown locks that had dried into bouncy coils perfectly suited his chiseled structure. The last remaining baby fat on his cheeks softened his enigmatic look, especially in more calm instances such as this. Few were treated to such a view of him, let alone have the capacity to appreciate it like you did. Wait - appreciating him? He seems to catch on simultaneously, the corners of his lips twitching in satisfaction over your turn to gaze.

"I am not your prey to stalk," he abruptly spoke up in a high-pitched, mocking tone to mimic your previous dramatics. You pushed your shoulder against him further as a hollow threat to get him to quit his teasing.

"You look too hardddd."

"Stopppp," you plead, pressing against him again, which causes him to turn to you finally. That stupid, intense gaze again was now much too close for comfort.

Mattheo scoops your hands into his larger, calloused ones, suddenly enclosing yours. He begins rubbing them, his touch creating a friction that warms your fingers, and despite your confusion, you don't immediately pull away.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to warm you up."

"It is still summer. They are not that cold, really…"

"Let me just have this excuse to hold your hands," Mattheo says hushedly, shutting down all of your protests. His touch is comforting, so you allow it.

"Forward this evening, are we?" you still can not resist asking with a raised brow.

"Maybe. But when else will we be trapped for a night like this?" Mattheo was right again, blasted. The bubbling chemistry was now utterly unavoidable, and this night was simply the catalyst for this new beginning.

Still, it was so recent that you likely would not change your behavior towards each other once you returned to your friends, who were probably worried sick about your whereabouts. The storm was still raging, so you just accepted that it would be easier to call it a night instead of waiting for it to pass or even worse; risking your safety by trudging through it. You silently agreed with Mattheo to let this evening run its natural course, showing your reciprocated feelings by allowing him to continue creating friction with your hands via a similar technique used to make a fire.

The rest of the evening went by uneventfully as you cozied up to each other, finding yourself leaning more into him as your lids grew heavier with tiredness.

Mattheo took on the role of a pillow, pressing his back to the floor and letting you lay against him, going as far as draping your leg over his and resting your head on his chest. The resistant part of you wanted to claim this was merely to survive the night, but Merlin, he was easy to sink into. No longer fighting the call of rest, your last conscious moment was the feeling of Mattheo pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before sleep took over.

—-------------

The chirping of birds and light rays seeping into the small windows of the cabin signaled it was time to wake up. You two had stayed wrapped up in each other for the night, which was probably the sole reason you felt at all rested.

The warm embrace of Mattheo kept you tucked cozily into his arms, providing a warmth that was now overwhelmingly hot in the morning summer heat. Suddenly, the chatter of approaching voices traveled around the hollowness of the cabin before the distinctive voice of Enzo called out. "It only took a dangerous thunderstorm to bring you two together," he remarked, a wicked grin matching his chirpy tone. You looked up to meet his gaze through the cracked window, which illuminated your intimate position with Mattheo. The cheeky disturbance startled Mattheo awake with a jump, groaning at the loud intrusion of his mates' voices.

You observed through squinted eyes as Mattheo and Enzo began quarreling. Amidst the light-hearted chaos, you heard snippets like 'It's not what it looks like!' and 'The ingredients search was a load of bollocks, wasn't it?' The goal to save face came second to your relief at rejoining your friends.

A ruse that had gotten way out of hand landed you in the last place you would have expected this morning, but the possibilities it offered left you nervous but hopeful. You watched a bit longer before stretching and getting up to join, armed with your own silly defenses over why you were caught in Mattheo's arms as the lot of you made your way back to the summer home.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle fluff #slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #jinxedjuly #jinxedjulychallenge

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jasmines-library · 1 year ago

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Tried and True

WHUMPTOBER 2023 DAY FOUR: Prompt - Hiding an injury.

Fandom: Batfam/DC/Young Justice

Summary: During a fight with Bane you get critically injured but leave it hidden from your brothers. When they find out, it's a race against time to get you back to the safety of the manor. Warnings: Bullet wound, blood loss, near death experience, surgery, cursing. Word count: 2.8k Note: I'm super excited about this one. That's all i'm gonna say :)

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Bane fired three shots down the alleyway. They ricocheted off the bricks, clattering to the ground with a metallic ping. Dick Grayson hid crouched behind the lip of a building overlooking the alleyway, his mask pulled tight over his face. He watched with cautious eyes, surveying the villain before him. You were hunched over on the opposite side of the street dual daggers pressed firmly into the palm of your clammy hands. Damian and Jason lingered nearby, Tim opted to survey with his older brother. He had his bo staff hooked under his arm, ready to draw back and swing at any second.

“I know you’re out there little birdies.” Bane sung, drawing out his steps as he paced the length of the alley. “Why don’t you come out for a little chat?”

He fired another round of bullets, this time up into the sky. Your little brother cast a look at you from your left, you held out a warning hand.

“Nightwing?” You asked into the coms quietly, careful not to draw unwanted attention. Even though Bane was outnumbered 5-1, he was still extremely powerful and if he caught one of you off guard, you would be in some deep shit.

“We need to wait until he gets to the end of the alley. There’s a fork. We can flank him from both sides.”

The five of you watched intently as he walked, monotonously slow. When he was a mere few steps away from the end of the alley, Nightwing gave the signal and the five of you sprang into action, disguised and protected by the thick plating of your vigilante suits each specified to fit your needs.

Landing roughly on your feet, you jumped from the building, reading your daggers in front of you. Your brothers formed a circle besides you, trapping bane between the three exits. He grinned manically.

“Finally! I thought I was going to miss out on all the fun.”

He hoisted his gun up onto his shoulder and eyed the five of you up. The look on his face was mad; cynical. His eyes glistened beneath his mask as they settled on Robin. He fired, releasing a fresh wave of bullets, but the youngest was small and quick enough to slip away, behind a crate.

With his back turned, Red Robin took his chance to make a move on Bane. He swung his staff in an arc, swiping at the giant's feet in an attempt to knock him to the ground. He wobbled, but spun around and knocked him out of the way, sending him flying into a nearby pile of junk.

“Red!?” You called out through the coms.

There was static as he shuffled around, coughing slightly as he tried to recover from having the wind knocked out from him. “All good.”

You moved next, Robin at your side. Using the walls, you propelled yourself towards Bane, trying to swing your dagger and lodge it anywhere on his exposed chest, only to have to skid across the floor as he swung his arm out to hit you. Although you weren’t successful, Robin had managed to get in a well placed slice along Bane’s torso. He had been aiming for the thick tubes which pumped him full of venom, but he wasn’t so successful.

The five of you went many rounds with Bane, swinging, slicing and dodging as you tried to get the upper hand on the giant man. Though despite being outnumbered, he had still managed to get his own in on the five vigilanties. Red Hood was suffering a twisted ankle, and Robin had a trickle of blood running down the side of his temple where Bane had managed to strike him.

“Raven!” Nightwing hollered “Flank left.”

You retreated back round the alley with your eldest brother, twisting and navigating in the dinginess to flank him from his other side. When you returned, he had Tim pinned up against a wall, gasping for air and flailing, his feet struggling to scrape against the floor. You picked up your pace, feet slapping against the concrete. You swung, leaping high into the air and bringing your daggers down in a large sweeping motion, it lodged itself in one of Bane’s tubes, staunching the flow of venom pumping into his veins. You rolled across the ground and onto your feet, skidding against the asphalt as you dodged another swing that caught Robin instead. Nightwing was suddenly flanking from Bane’s otherside, cutting off the rest of the venom’s flow. Pulling Robin to his feet, he raised his katana.

With a signal from your brother cracking out over the coms, you gripped your daggers tighter, shifting them into a more comfortable grip in front of you. The humming of Dicks escrima sticks filled the alley. There was a beat, then you all charged, using bane’s weakness to your advantage. He took a large slice across his abdomen and a shock to his body. He roared, releasing a round of bullets into the brick. Dropping like a sack of flour the five of you pressed your body to the ground, trying to dodge the lethal pieces of metal he flung your way. And that was when you felt it, a raw indescribable pain that radiated across your body above your right hip. You stifled a cry, biting your lip beneath the cover of your mask. Your breath shuddered as you rose, trying to ignore the dark red patch that bloomed across the front of your suit. You readied your daggers, trying to conceal the wound with your arm. You were hoping that the cover of the darkness would help disguise it from your brothers.

From his place on the ground, Jason fired at bane, distracting him from Tim, who swung his bo staff again at his feet, this time bringing him to the ground. Stepping forwards,you pressed your dagger to his neck, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to get the message across. He howled and grunted as Nightwing and Red Hood made quick work of securing him with rope they had stored on their suits, then delivering a quick blow to his head to render the giant unconscious.

Nightwing took a step back and sighed, dropping his twin fighting sticks to the ground. “Is everyone ok?”

There was a chortle of agreement between the comms. You sheathed your daggers in the hosters at your hip, groaning as your fingers brushed against the pulsating wound.

“Call B, tell him we have Bane.”

“Copy.” You said, flicking through the channels on the comms to call your father. He answered gruffly, signifying that he would be on his way on his way over as soon as he could. You heard the rumble of the batmobile in the background.

“B’s on his way.” You told your brothers, changing the coms back. “He’ll be here soon.”

You glanced down at your stomach, still oozing blood, crossing his arms in front of you, trying to hide the growing patch and keep some pressure on it. You could feel the warm, stickiness against your skin clinging to the fabric of your suit. You couldn’t feel the exit wound, piercing the back of your flesh. Just the thought of the bullet still lodged inside of you made the pain worsen tenfold. You just had to hope that you would get back to the manor in time to stitch yourself up.

~~~

Left, Right. Left, Right.

You had never been more glad to see the silhouette of the wayne manor, illuminated by the lights from the many windows that had been left on whilst you were out on patrol. You were trudging back slowly with your brothers after finishing up on patrol and ensuring that The Bat had bane secured and was taking him to Arkham. Your steps had grown sluggish, your vision doubled and your breaths uneven as you tried to keep up pace with your brothers, only to end up falling behind anyway. Your whole body ached, but nothing compared to the stabbing pain near your hip. You pulled your hand away from where you had been discreetly keeping pressure on it. Your head spun as you took in the sight of the blood dousing your hands.

Left, Right…

Not much further now. You told yourself as you forced your body to keep pressing forwards. Home was so close but felt so so far away. You made your shaky legs push on, but with your hazy vision you swayed on your feet.

Dick turned around, noticing your absence besides him.

“Raven?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. His panicked tone alerted the rest of the boys.

You were leaning on a nearby fence, trying to regain your composure.

“I- I’m fine. I just need-”

Left…

Your body gave out beneath you as you tried to push yourself away from the wall, you were swallowed by a blinding pain; hot and inflamed as you collapsed in on yourself. Jason, the closest to you, rushed forwards before your body could collide with the hard asphalt. He laid you down tenderly so that your head was lying down on his lap. Dick was by your side patting down your body for the hidden injury, followed quickly by the other two.“Raven?” Damien stared at you with wide eyes.

“Shit.” Dick cursed when his hand skimmed the tear in your suit, pulling it back with his fingers coaxed in your blood.

You cried out in pain, eyes flying wide.

Damien gripped your hand tightly, wincing at your pained expression when Jason hastily tore your mask away. He wiped away the tears which stained your cheeks.

“AH!” Your face twisted when Dick ripped apart the fabric of your suit to get a better look at the wound; circular and ugly, only around the size of a penny, but it was already an angry shade of scarlet and was leaking more blood than you though you had in your body. The fabric which had matted with your blood tugged at your skin. You squeezed Damian’s hand tightly.

“R, what happened?”

“...Shot.” You forced out.

Jason reached around the back of your suit searching for an exit wound then cursing loudly when he failed to find one. “It’s still in there.”

Dick cursed. “Okay. Tim?”

The boy looked up meekly.

“Grab the emergency pack, we’ll need tweezers, bandages. Something for the pain.”

“On it.”

“Damien? Call Alfred, tell him we need help, stat.”

Hesitantly, the Wayne let go of your hands and scrambled to get his phone. Tim was rushing back over with the supplies.

“Y/N? This is going to hurt okay?”

You nodded feebly, head lolling around in Jason’s lap.

“Hood, keep her awake.”

Jason took your head in his hands and angled it up to face him. Your eyes were fluttering closed.

“Hey, look at me, keep ‘em open kid.”

Your eyes opened in fraction as you listened to your older brother's words, though you were in a pained daze, only registering the pain in your side.

They would never forget the inhuman scream that pushed its way past your lips as Dick dig the tweezers into the wound. The pain was indescribable as your fingers clawed against the ground. You writhed in Jason’s hold, squirming away from the onslaught of pain. Dick cringed.

“Tim, keep her still.”

His hands were like cold vices on your arms as he pinned you down, trying to keep you still as his older brother rummaged through your body. Your screams had morphed into horse shouts by the time he finally got the bullet out. But then came the burst of agony as he pushed his hands down as hard as he could on your wound. You whimpered.

“I know. I know Y/N I’m sorry.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you began to lose a grip on consciousness. Black dots danced in your vision.

“Hey. Stay with us!” Tim patted your face. “We need to move fast.

Jason leaned you up against his chest so his brothers could wrap the bandages tightly around your stomach. Damien had returned, informing them that Alfred was on his way. Once the bandages were secured, you were laid back down in Jason's chest, eyes fluttering. Damien returned to holding your hands, rubbing his thumbs back and forth across the flat of your hand.

“Stay awake, Raven. Talk to us.” Tim prompted.

You were silent for a horrifying moment, before muttering out a few words. “...I’m sorry.”

“No. None of that. You’re gonna be fine.”

“I love you all.”

Your breaths were becoming shallower and you struggled to get the air you needed into your lungs. The black spots began to take over your vision.

“We love you too, Y/N. So, so much.”

You hummed contently. Your body had begun to go numb.

A dear ran down Damien’s cheek. You reached up to wipe it away as your older brother had done to you mere minutes ago.

“It’s okay.” You hushed. “It doesn’t hurt bad anymore.”

The two eldest vigilantes swallowed thickly, sharing a wide eyed glance between each other. That was when Alfred turned up, and the next minutes went by in a blur. The boys could do nothing more than watch as they whisked you away into surgery, praying that you would pull through.

~~~

Dick watched as you began to stir. Your face twitched and you shifted uncomfortably. He had his much larger hand wrapped around yours, and had done for a few hours, insisting that he stay with you. You were his baby sister after all. Bruce had tried to send the other to bed, but like Dick, Jason had insisted that he should be allowed to watch over you too. Bruce was about to protest, but he couldn’t dismiss the distraught look plastered on Jason’s face. He had no doubt that the youngest two were lingering around somewhere, minds too full of opposing thoughts to let them succumb to the sleep that their bodies begged them for. Damian had kept trying to sneak in before being dragged away by Bruce.

The room had been silent for a few hours as they watched your chest rise and fall. The surgery had been hard on your body, and for a while no one was sure that you were going to pull through. Albeit there you were lying pale but showing signs of waking up, on your bed.

Alfred and Bruce were frequently in and out of your room where you lay hooked up to all sorts of machines that made Jason cringe. His head was resting on the side of your bed by the hand that Dick wasn’t nursing. His eyes had begun to droop shut as the early hours of the day crept around, when you shifted the let out a pained whimper. When he turned his head, he was greeted by your striking eyes.

He scrambled off of the floor and into the chair that had been pulled up by your bed. “Y/N? Hey.”

“Boys?” You blinked, your head still groggy from the anaesthesia.

The eldest boy gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah kiddo. We’re here.”

Trying to sit up, the tug on your stitches elicited another cry of pain. Instinctively, both boys helped you sit up.

“Take it easy, little bat.” Dick told you as you gingerly pushed back the sheets. Your hip was bound tightly in a white bandage. “He got you good.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jay pressed. “You could have…”

“I-”

You were cut off by the sound of the door shuddering open and a pair of your ‘not so little anymore’ brothers' heads peeking around it. They were hesitant, glancing around the room until you gave them a gentle smile.

“Y/N,” Damian rushed into the room, wrapping you tightly into a hug.

“Hey Dami.” You murmured into his ear.

He was suddenly ripped away from you by a grinning Tim who chided “Hey, be careful with her, you demon spawn. It’s my turn.”

You chuckled as he pulled you desperately into his arms.

“I’m so glad you’re okay Y/N/N. I was so scared.”

You frowned, hoarse voice breaking as you spoke. “I’m sorry-”

“Damian.” A haggard voice sounded from somewhere in the hallway. It was followed by a pair of heavy set shoes. “How many times do I have to tell you to get back in bed-”

Bruce stopped abruptly at the sight of his children crowded before him. His eyes were clad with dark bags and his hair was unkempt on his head.

“Hi Dad.” Your voice was barely a whisper, but he heard it nonetheless. Pushing past his sons, he was at your side in less than a second.

And that was when the reality of the whole situation hit you. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

“Dad. I’m sorry. I- I wasn’t thinking.”

“Shh.” He hushed. “This isn’t your fault. This is no one’s fault but Bane’s.”

“But-”

“Listen to the old man for once little bat. All that matters is that everyone is still together.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY THREE ⛤ DAY FIVE ->

🏷️ Taglist:

@senjoritanana

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sageo7 · 7 months ago

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Okay guys i actually finished it idk why i waited like a month lol. Sorry its kinda shot but Im gonna start writing more Stiles content coming up bc there is a horrible lack of fics on tumblr rn. Send me requests pretty please!!

Stiles was practically fuming on the couch next to you while you sat amongst your friends at one of the movie nights hosted at Scotts house. You had been conducting a little experiment to see how much you could tease him and push his buttons until he did something about it. Stiles was always gentle with you, touching you like you would shatter if he applied too much pressure and it was endearing, for sure… but you wanted more. You wanted him to use you how he needed to; for him to use you for once to satisfy his own needs. Your hand remained on his upper thigh under the blanket draped over both of your laps, innocently watching the movie in front of you to avoid his gaze that had been boring into the side of your head ever since your hand brushed up against him. The whole night has been moments like this, whispering dirty things into his ear and skipping away like nothing happened, bending down to grab things directly in front of him so he could get a peak of your lacy pink panties from under your skirt, and now your hand was inching up his thigh to touch him through his jeans in a room full of your friends. Just when your hand makes contact with the bulge straining against his zipper his hand catches your wrist making your eyes snap back up to his which were dark and heavy lidded, his breathing much deeper than normal.

“bathroom.” Is all he practically growls into your ear before he stands from the couch abruptly walking away. You wait another minute or so before also excusing yourself, none of your friends paying much mind to either of your departures. You creep up the stairs slowly every step making the ache between your legs more prominent and you bite back a moan when you’re practically shoved into the bathroom the door slammed shut behind you.

“jesus stiles.” You say exasperatedly and he just gives you a look and retaliates with “why’re you doing this to me baby?”

“doing what?” You ask feigning innocence and looking away to avoid his eyes but his hand grabs your chin harshly turning you back.

“Look at me. You know what I’m talking about.” he says his hand guiding yours to the bulge in his jeans arousal pricking down your spine at the groan that leaves him from the contact.

“feel what you’re doin’ to me?” He mumbles out his head falling to your shoulder when you cup him properly in your hand. You let out a shuddering breath to recompose yourself and nod “yeah? what do you want me to do about it..?” the question comes out sarcastic and taunting and his hips instinctively move forward trying to rut more into your hand.

“anything.” He breathes out and you shake your head pulling your hand away a desperate moan falling from his lips in protest.

“stiles.. tell me what you want.” you repeat putting more emphasis on ‘want’ and he swallows and nods understanding your meaning.

“your mouth..” he finally manages out after a long pause and when you sink to your knees his words grow more confidence “god I wanna fuck your pretty little mouth..” he mutters his hands moving to pull your hair back away from your face. Your hands move diligently to undo his pants eagerly pulling them and his boxers down, his cock springing free the head already an angry red, beads of precum rolling down the tip. You lick your lips instinctively at the sight and peer up at him, he’s flush, pupils blown wide and mouth slightly agape as he watches your every move with rapt attention his hand holding your hair up in a makeshift ponytail subtlely trying to inch you closer to his dick. You wrap a hand around him and his eyes snap shut a guttural moan bubbling up from his throat when your tongue darts out to lick up the precum before taking the tip into your mouth. With a small huff of air you take him further in inch by inch tormentingly slow, but when you nose brushes against tufts of well groomed hair his hips jut forward making you pull away abruptly with a chocked cough. His hands cup your face immediately panic clear in his eyes sputtering out apologies but you shake your head with giggle batting his hands away.

"just so big sti.." you purr out and his anxiety melts away immediately with a borderline pathetic moan. You take him back in your hand, eyes staring up into his while you tug along his dick lowering your mouth to press wet kisses down his length. A few little kitten licks to his slit has his eyes screwing shut hands tightening in your hair. "please.."

"please?" you repeat pulling your mouth away from him "be more specific"

His features scrunch up in annoyance at the taunting still the words spill out of him immediately "no more teasing.. wanna fuck your mouth.. please" he babbles out.

You hum in approval his neediness making your mouth water and you wrap your lips around him again. Your tongue swirling around his tip snaps the last of his well upheld restraint and the hand buried in your hair pushes you further along his dick. Every movement is lead by his hand, wide eyes staring down at you his grunts and groans spurring you on to just let him guide you.

"i'm so.. fuck baby.. oh my g-" his words get less coherent with every motion hips thrusting forward every few times to meet your lips. It doesn't take much more before he's murmuring out small praises and barely intelligible versions of "i'm close" his eyes roll back slightly, cock twitching in your mouth before warm spurts of his cum slide down your throat and drip past the corners of your mouth. He releases his vice like grip on your hair slowly and you pull away swallowing heavily. Neither of you speak for a few seconds to catch your breath but he reaches his hands down to help hoist you back to your feet wrapping his arms around you securely.

"i love you angel." he mutters out against your hairline "so perfect for me"

#stiles smut #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #teen wolf smut #smut #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine

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lushrue · 5 months ago

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hockeyteam!141 x figureskater!reader pt 3

thank you all a million times over for all your love on this series! comment to be added to the taglist and send some asks my way if you have a scenario that you wanna see these characters in, i eat it up!!

cw: drinking

price stood at the center of the face-off circle, his stick resting on his knees as he sized up his opponent. it was the third period and the score was tied 2-2. price’s team was on the power play after the visiting team had received a two minute minor for slashing. figured, he thought. they’d been playing dirty all night; the ref just finally saw fit to call them on it. it was two minutes where they had the upper hand, two minutes to take advantage of their strength in numbers. he adjusted his stick in his grip, looking over his shoulder to make sure gaz and soap were in position before turning his attention back to the face off. he inhaled, and on the exhale, the sound of rubber smacking the ice hit his ears.

price gained control, taking the puck down the ice into the opposing team’s zone. he glanced to his left, meeting soap’s eyes before making a pass. soap received it, the puck smacking off his stick as he took up position on his side of the ice. a defenseman skated towards him, poised to try for a steal. but soap was ready. he made quick eye contact with gaz, sending the puck sliding his way. gaz took advantage of the fact that no one was on his ass, taking it and skating ever closer to the opposing goal. price was lined up, ready to go. it was the perfect position for a slapshot straight over the goal line. the goalie wasn’t watching his right flank, still preoccupied with gaz skating towards him. perfect. gaz made the pass, simon smacked the opposing defenseman into the boards to stop his approach, and price swung. the puck slid over the line before the goalie even knew what happened, setting the buzzer blaring.

through it all, you were watching in the stands. their coordination on the ice was enough to show you why they were first line, why laswell trusted them more than anyone else to get the game started on the right foot and to end it just as smoothly. you were one of the first on your feet after the goal, shouting and clapping. soap skated past price, giving him a congratulatory knock on the helmet as gaz held up his glove for a fist bump. simon gave price a thump on the back, skating behind him as they returned to the bench. “good shot, cap,” he shouted over the music, stepping off the ice as the second line stepped in to relieve them.

you smiled and waved as soap turned to meet your eyes. you’d taken to sitting right behind the bench, making your presence known to them rather than blending into the crowd like you’d done before. soap winked before nudging kyle, who tapped simon’s helmet, who elbowed price. soon, all four sets of eyes were on you. you blushed under the weight of their collective gazes, but managed to collect yourself enough to give them two thumbs up. price chuckled, nodding his head in thanks at your gesture. soap tugged his helmet off, the sweat making the longer strands of his mohawk stick to his forehead. “come out with us after tha game!” he called, his voice slightly muffled by the plexiglass. you didn’t even hesitate. “yeah, ‘course i will!”

…

it was a handy victory after that, simon managing to eke out a goal of his own before the game was over. this win would move them up in the league rankings, signal to everyone else that they’re a force to be reckoned with. with an ever-rotating roster of fresh blood, rebuilding years were bound to happen. but now they were on the rebound, and it felt better than any vice they indulged in.

that wasn’t going to stop them tonight, though. the four of them stepped out of the locker room to find you waiting, your coat draped over your arms. your eyes were glued on your phone, a familiar crutch to pass the time. the moment you heard soap and gaz’s jovial chatter, your head snapped up, meeting the eyes of your victorious men. you flashed them a smile and a little wave, closing the distance between all of you. ��that was a really good game tonight,” you said sincerely, your eyes flicking between the four of them. it wasn’t just a win for one of them, it was a win for all of them. you wanted to make sure they all felt properly congratulated.

“thanks, dove,” price replied, a smile of his own threatening to show through. usually, his mind was racing with thoughts of how they could improve, what they could’ve done better. but not tonight. tonight was for celebrating, and he wasn’t going to let his overactive mind get in the way of that. gaz chimed in, putting his hand on price’s shoulder. “well, it helped havin’ our good luck charm in the stands. didn’t it, cap?” his pointed glance settled on you as price chuckled, your cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink. their good luck charm. how about that? “good point, kyle,” price said. the weight of their eyes boring into you threatened to overwhelm you, like the tide overtaking the shore.

thankfully, johnny’s scottish brogue broke the tension. “did’ja see my assist in the second period, bonnie?” he asked, shouldering past gaz to be closer to you. you couldn’t help but laugh a little, nodding at him as you clutched your coat a little closer to your body. “yeah, i did,” you reply. you also hadn’t missed the way he skated with more gusto after that, knowing that you’d seen him. “it was impressive. you all work so well together out there.” simon finally made his presence known, shifting on his feet beside price. “yeah, we’ve worked really hard to get ourselves there,” he said, sounding proud of the progress they'd made as a team. you notice kyle and johnny exchange a glance, but you can’t quite read it. there’s something there under the surface, something that goes beyond the game.

before you can spare it a second thought, price places his hand on your shoulder, guiding you out the doors of the ice rink. “c’mon, dove. we’ll take my truck.”

…

it’s around your third mixed drink that you start to get a little more comfortable.

they’ve paid for the last two rounds for you, indulging whatever fruity concoction you find yourself craving. they took you to the one good bar for miles where the air was free of stale cigarette smoke and depression. the five of them weren’t the rowdiest table by far, but they were holding their own. the boys carried on their own conversations in the background, chattering loudly about the game. as you sip at your vodka cranberry, your attention is on kyle’s phone screen as he swipes through pictures of his family. “and tha’s my brother, steven. he’s got a wife and kid. haven’t seen ‘im in a while, they live kinda far.” soap nudges him, causing his phone to nearly tumble into his pint of guinness. “don’ bore the poor lass,” he says, his words already starting to slur a little. johnny was drinking whiskey, which hit a little harder than the beers that his teammates were nursing. no wonder he was on his way to being three sheets to the wind.

you blush and shake your head, giving kyle a reassuring glance. “it’s not boring, i promise. i like getting to know you all. it’s what friends do, right?” friends. you hadn’t stopped to think about it before, but you supposed you’d fully entered friend territory with all of them. you’d come to watch them play multiple times now, and they’d come and watched you skate. not only that, they’d stayed for both your programs and stuck around when the final rankings were posted. mere acquaintances didn’t do that.

your words seemed to strike some chord in each of them as the hum of their side conversations abruptly stopped. you caught price smirk over the rim of his glass as he took a swig of his drink, his posture confident with his shoulders back and chest forward. johnny looked at you like you’d hung the moon and stars just for him, but only for a moment. kyle’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, like he hadn’t expected you to perceive them as friends. and simon, as usual, was hard to read, but you were getting there. there was a tightness in his expression that spelled unease to you. you faltered, opening your mouth to backtrack before price waved a hand to cut you off.

“nah, the bird’s right, johnny. guess we should know some things about each other if we’re gonna be friends.” his smirk remained, his eyes now fixed on you. maybe it was the alcohol talking, but you could swear you saw a glint of hunger in his eyes. you swallowed, desperate to ignore the electric thrill that struck your core. “why don’t you start us off, love? we wanna know more ‘bout ya,” he said, leaning back against the booth seating and staring you down expectantly. you clear your throat and take another long drink from your glass. you’d need some liquid courage for all this.

“well, i’ve been skating since i was little. i’ve loved it for as long as i can remember.” the memories brought a smile to your face. you recalled sitting in front of the television set, cross-legged as you watched the figure skaters dance on the ice in your ballerina dress. your dad sat next to you, telling you that that could be you someday. you certainly hadn’t competed in any olympics, but you were proud of the level you’d achieved. johnny chuckled, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. it sent a bloom of warmth through you and your cheeks flushed crimson. “somethin’ besides the ice, bonnie,” he said playfully. “we wanna know you, not the skater.”

you composed yourself quickly after being startled at his touch, settling into the casual display of affection. glances were once again exchanged, but this time, it was price and simon. “umm…my favorite color’s green,” you said, looking between johnny and kyle for approval, to see if this was what they wanted. when you got a nod in reply, you decided to continue. you told them about your favorite foods, family vacations, the artists that were on heavy rotation in your car radio. they seemed to hang on your every word, letting the aura of you seep into their bones so they’d never forget it.

the more you drank, the more you talked. so price kept the drinks flowing.

…

kyle drove you home in price’s truck, your swaying body sandwiched between ghost and soap. johnny had an arm around your shoulders to keep you steady and simon had his hand on your arm for comfort. you’d been drunker in your life, but you certainly had a good thing going. all this contact from attractive men was only fueling the fire, butterflies stirring in your belly that weren’t born of alcohol. you muttered things you knew you wouldn't remember in the morning, something about how warm their bodies were and how good they looked in their pads and gear. they were gentlemen, of course. their touches remained innocent as they walked you to your door and made sure you got in safely, staying until they heard the lock click. they had to be satisfied that you were secure for the night.

as the four of them piled back in the truck and headed back down the road, it was simon who broke the silence first. “we gotta have her, yeah?” he said, his voice a rumble that harmonized with the engine. kyle and johnny didn’t respond, looking to their captain for a response. ultimately, he made the final call. price hummed, his head falling back against the headrest of the passenger seat.

“yeah, think we do.”

taglist: @cadotoast @jupiternighties @hxnneydew

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mismatched-sockss · 8 months ago

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Kiss it better

» Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!BAU!Reader » Wordcount: 2,4k » Warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, non-sexual nudeness and touching (except for maybe a short allusion but emily turns reader down), reader has female anatomy (breasts are mentioned), mentions of unsub beating up reader and the resulting injuries, reader takes unspecified pain medication, pet names (honey, my love, baby) » A/N: no detailed body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

You tried to muffle the pained groan when you leaned into the shower to turn the water on, so Emily wouldn't hear. You didn't want her to worry her again. Still, not even five seconds later she slithered into the bathroom, almost slipping on the floor with her socked feet as she ran to the door.

"What are you doing?", she asked warily, her brows furrowed as she watched you like a hawk.

"Taking a shower?" You slowly turned to her and simultaneously started to unbutton your shirt. Your knuckles ached slightly from the movement, but the pain was not bad enough that you would have to stop.

"Yes, I can see that. Why are you doing it alone?"

"Because I'm a grown woman and can tak- ow!" Pain shot through your whole upper body when you shrugged the shirt off and moved your arm wrong. You tried to breathe through the pain and shot Emily a thankful smile when she helped you to fully remove your shirt.

She gasped when she saw the full extent of your injuries when she turned back to you after she threw your shirt into the laundry basket. She had been busy dealing with the Unsub and the local police earlier when the EMTs checked you, so she only knew what happend from what you told the team. This was the first time she saw the result of what the man had done to you.

Hotch had sent you to interview a potential witness, but when you knocked on the door the guy freaked when he saw your credentials. You fought with him but he got a couple of good kicks in once he had you on the floor.

Luckily you only had a couple of small wounds were the skin on your knuckles had split from the punches you were able to land, a cracked rib or two and a slight concussion. The big bruise that covered your right side looked really bad; it reached over half your stomach and your ribs up to your shoulder blade, shining in an angry mixture of different shades of red and purple.

As long as you moved with caution the pain was manageable so far and the bruises looked a lot worse than your injuries actually were. You could only imagine how bad it must look to Emily right now.

"Oh honey", she breathed out as she stepped closer. She reached out for you, her fingertips just barely touching the skin of your shoulder as she traced them along the bruise. Even though the bathroom had gotten warmer as it slowly filled with the steam from the hot water, her touch send a shiver down your spine and goosebumps started rising on your skin. "I'm so sorry. I should have gone with you."

You smiled at her as you took her hand between yours. "It's not your fault, okay?" You squeezed her hand and started to draw soothing circles on her skin with your thumb. "We had no way of knowing that Keller was the Unsub, when I left to interview him. And I was the one who insisted I would be fine on my own. Also, you already were halfway to the M.E.s office by then, so you wouldn't have been there either way."

"Still. Reid could have gone to talk to the M.E. alone. Then I could have gone with you." Emily raised her other hand to your cheek and softly stroked her thumb over your cheekbone. "I don't like seeing you hurt."

"I know, baby. But I'm okay." You crooked your head to the side as you leaned into her palm and rolled your eyes as you corrected yourself, because physically you were far from okay. "Okay, more like I'll live."

"You better...", she pouted.

You laughed and after she joined in, a sign that the tension was slowly leaving her, you leaned in to close the space between you both and kissed her.

Emily smiled when you parted and nodded her head to the running shower. "Let's get you cleaned up." She helped you to take off the rest of your clothes and then took off her own so she could join you in the shower. She insisted to do all the work and ordered you to "just stand there and look pretty."

The both of your stepped inside the shower stall and a deep sigh left your lips when the warm water hit your skin, immediately relaxing your tense muscles. The water pressure was light enough that it didn't hurt when it landed on your skin.

Emily reached behind you to grab one of the bottles and signaled you to turn around and face away from her, before she flipped the lid and squeezed some of the flowery smelling stuff into her hand. You closed your eyes when she started to shampoo your hair, her fingers gently massaging your head. She giggled when you hummed. “Feels good?”, she asked. You just hummed again and let your head fall back. When she was done with the shampoo, she unhooked the shower head and rinsed your hair out, then she worked some of the conditioner in as well. Every step - shampoo, rinse, conditioner, rinse - she softly massaged your scalp.

She proceeded to lather her hands up with shower gel. While she was doing so she planted a small kiss onto your right shoulder, right above the edge of your bruise. Emily's hands glided over your skin, washing your arms and your back, and she made sure to move over your injuries as softly as she could so she wouldn't hurt you.

By the time she made you turn back around, her touch had done much more to you than just washing your body. With a new portion of shower gel she started on your collar bones and worked her way down, over your breasts and stomach.

Your breathing quickened and you put your left hand on her waist to pull her closer. You tried to kiss her, but Emily turned her face away and chuckled. “Nope.”

“Mean”, you said and pouted. She kissed your nose before she bend down to wash your legs.

"I'm not being mean, but you are hurt. You'll have to wait until you're better, my love." She looked up at you and the sight alone - Emily on her knees in front of you and the way she was looking into your eyes, paired with her hands on your thighs - almost drove you insane. Like you said. Mean.

You groaned and rolled your eyes playfully. "Why do you have to be so responsible?"

"Because I love you and because I'm your boss."

"Just because you've been in the BAU longer than me, doesn't make you my boss”, you laughed.

Emily shrugged, a wide smile on her lips. "Tomato, tomahto. It's pretty much the same thing."

After the both of you were done in the bathroom - freshly showered, bodies lotioned and dressed in comfortable clothes - Emily gave you some pain killers and sat you down on the couch so she could apply new bandages on your hand.

“It's really not that bad”, you said. She held your right hand in both of hers, examining your knuckles - split skin accompanied with light red bruises that were already turning purple.

She shook her head. “It's bad enough. Just let me do this, please?” Emily didn't wait for your answer, didn't even look up at you, before she dabbed some disinfectant on your knuckles; then she wrapped the new bandage around your hand.

“Okay”, you breathed out, giving in. You could tell she still blamed herself that you got hurt, heard it in the way her voice had cracked just now. If dressing your wounds and tending to your every needs would help that she felt better about it, you'd let her.

You didn't blame her. Or even Hotch. The only person at fault was Keller. But you knew, that if the roles were reversed and Emily would have gotten injured in the field while you weren't around, you would blame yourself as well. Probably even if you would have been around.

So you let her do her thing. You let her fix you something to eat, let her wrap you up in a cozy blanket and let her brush your hair. You would lie if you would say, that you didn't like it.

It was still early enough in the evening that you had time to cuddle up on the couch with each other and watch TV while sharing a tub of ice cream. Emily had you sitting between her legs, your back to her chest, so she could hold you without you having to lie on your side. One of her hands had found its way back into your hair, her fingers playing with your hair and untangling the knots that were back in your hair after she had brushed it earlier.

You had stopped paying attention to the TV a long time ago, fully focusing and enjoying her touch. From time to time you felt her planting a quick kiss here and there - the side of your head, your neck, your shoulder.

Slowly but surely it lulled you to sleep, you eyelids getting heavier by the minute. You adjusted your position, turning your head to the side to lean your forehead against her neck. Just when you were about to drift off, your hand slit off Emily's thigh and it collided with the empty ice cream container next to you. You jumped, not because it hurt your hand but because it had startled you in your half conscious state. Immediately after you doubled over in pain; which you regretted the second you did it as it only made it worse.

“Woah, hey, hey.” Emily grabbed your shoulders to hold you steady.

Tears shot into your eyes and you whimpered. It felt like your whole right side was on fire. Now with the sudden movement and since you had rested for a while, your more than sore muscles ached even more than they had before.

A sob fought its way out of your throat and before you knew it, you were full on crying. The crying didn't make it better: your head started to pound again, your side got worse as your body shook with every sob and when you started to hyperventilate your ribs violently protested against having to hold your lungs in.

Emily held you against her, making sure to not hurt you any further of course, and brushed the hair from your forehead. She stroked your hair as she was trying to calm you and she whispered “Shhh, it's okay... It's okay. Just breath.” into your ear over and over again. It hurt her, that she couldn't do anything to help you, to ease your pain. To take the pain away.

It took a while for you to calm down, until your breath evened out and your sobs stopped, only soft whimpers leaving your lips now. Emily asked you if she could get you anything and when you asked for painkillers, she sighed and kissed the side of your head. “It's too early to take another dose. I'm sorry, baby. We-”

“I don't care”, you cried. “Please...”

For a short moment she fought with herself. She wanted to help you, but you only had taken the last pill about two hours ago; the prescription said to wait at least four hours between doses. But with one look into your eyes, she dismissed all caution and nodded. If it only had been 30 minutes, it would have been a different kind of story. And not keeping to the advised time frame one time, shouldn't hurt.

“Okay”, Emily breathed out and carefully got up to get the medication and a glass of water. When she came back, she took a seat next to you and placed the pill in your hand. You took it and after drinking some of the water you gave her the glass back. “Thank you.”

“Of course”, she said and placed the glass down. “Why don't we get you into bed, huh?”

You just nodded. All you wanted to do right now was sleep. You were so tired. From the day, from the crying, from the pain.

“Do you want to go now, or do you want to wait a moment for the medication to work?”, she asked and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. God, you hoped the pain killers would work their magic quickly.

“Now please”, you said in a low voice.

Emily took your hand and helped you stand up, walking you slowly over to your shared bedroom. You stopped at your side of the bed, waited for her to pull back the blanket and then carefully laid down with her help.

“I'll be right back”, she told you, once you were all set. While she was gone, you closed your eyes and hoped, that your pain would stop soon. It had dulled a bit by now and lying down had helped your body relax. Right now, your headache was hurting the most in your body. Luckily it had stopped pounding in the rhythm of your heartbeat, but there was still a constant, sharp pain that felt like your head was about to split open.

You laid your wrist over your eyes - the bandage felt both soft and rough on your skin – and you kept it there, not moving it even when a soft clink on your nightstand indicated Emily's return; presumably with a fresh glass of water. You could hear her walking around the room and shutting off the big room light before she climbed into bed.

She softly touched your wrist and moved it away from your face so she could hold your hand in both of hers in between your bodies. “Are you feeling better yet?”

You turned your head to look at her, watching her pull your hand closer to her face and planting the softest kisses on your bandaged knuckles, one by one. You smiled at her. “A bit, meds are slowly kicking in, I think.”

“Good”, Emily said as she smiled back at you from behind your hand. “I'm glad. Try to get some sleep.” She sat up slightly and supported her weight on her elbow so she could lean down. First, she kissed your lips, then she planted a kiss on your cheek and one on your eyebrow.

“Good night.”

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #ghosts can write #❤️ e.p.#--- mismatched🧦

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protagaster · 2 months ago

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Part 1 of the Warrior!Penelope Swap AU

Just a heads up, some of the vignettes in this AU will be structured around the songs in the musical, and some will be short stories detailing the events of the Odyssey (like the prequel did)

Credit to Tumblr users @vioofc and @too-much-flynnolium, for their own ideas surrounding their warrior!penelope AUs led to inspiration for mine!

(Cross-Posted on Ao3)

The Horse and the Infant

After 10 years of war, of battle and bloodshed, the Greek army has finally gained the upper hand against the Trojans.

From within her Wooden Horse, Penelope vows to do whatever it takes to end this war once and for all. Whether she is truly up to the task, the Gods will see…

Growing up in Greece children are taught to beware of Pandora’s Box: though something may appear to be enchanting on the outside, what it hides within could bring devastating consequences.

Penelope was thankful the Trojans did not heed the warnings behind this tale.

The people of Troy underestimated her and her armies, for no greater reason other than the fact they happened to be women. All of Troy assumed that Greece was in a dire state, for why else would the Greeks have to resort to sending their women to fight in their men’s stead.

While most of her comrades were offended by this notion, Penelope saw an opportunity to finally turn the tides of war in their favor.

Everything went according to plan. By pretending to sail their ships back home the Trojans assumed the Greeks to have surrendered. This left them cocky, feeling invincible, to the point they did not question the mysterious “gift” left at their gates.

They brought the beautiful wooden horse into the heart of their palace, not knowing their very own “Pandora’s Box” was about to be unleashed upon their city.

Penelope let out a deep, steady breath.

Inside that very same wooden horse her comrades sat patiently by her side, their clenched fingers fidgeting on the hilt of their weapons. The eyes of her sisters-in-arms were hungry with scorn, their red and gold armor eager to be stained with Trojan blood.

Penelope looked at each and every woman who had chosen to place their trust in her. The Queen of Ithaca’s confidence had never been higher.

The night was silent and the atmosphere calm. There would be no perfect moment rather than now.

Penelope stood. In her posture she managed to portray the grace of a Queen, the strength of a Spartan, the innate blood-lust of a warrior of Ares, and the anger of a Mother.

Her comrades, women who fought both willingly and not against their society’s views to stand by her side, who were forced to part with their futures and families over the course of 9 years, they gazed upon their Captain with only the highest of respect and admiration in their eyes.

After all, it was only with her leadership that they had all managed to survive up to this point.

All 600 of them.

Penelope held her head high, addressing her comrades. Her friends. Her sisters.

“Alright my sisters, listen closely.” She spoke to them in a hush but commanding voice. “Tonight, we make the Trojans pay.”

“These years of war have killed us slowly, but now we'll be the ones who slay!”

Penelope’s eyes dulled in the middle of her speech, her mind momentarily retreating into its most sacred place.

Home. Ithaca.

“Think of your husbands and your children!”

Many of the women grew angry, recalling how many of their spouses were now permanently maimed and broken because of the Trojans. How their children were forced to grow and mature without their mothers, all because of this damn war.

“Your families wonder where you've been! They're growing old and yet you're still here,”

Penelope couldn’t help but look at her hair, not as vibrant as it once was 9 years ago. She couldn’t allow this war to go on for another decade. Not after so much time has been lost already.

“Do what I say and you'll see them again!”

“Yes ma’am!”

The women snuck out of the wooden horse, moving with as much quiet and stealth as they were physically able. Each soldier remembered her role, of what Penelope had ordered of them.

“Aegiale will lead the charge,”

“Clytemnestra will flank the guards,”

“Helen of Sparta will let our mates through the gates to take the whole city at large,”

“Eune will shoot any ambush attack,”

“And little Glauca will stay back,”

“Eury, free Menelaus and the others,”

“Hermy, help your betrothed, kill Hector's home and brothers!”

“Yes ma’am!”

Penelope watched from the shadows, beaming with pride at the success of her army.

Her plan was coming to a monumental success. The Trojan warriors, men trained in the art of combat from the moment they could walk, were being hunted from the shadows, one by one, as if they were livestock.

Less and less guards roamed the halls, their bodies lying against each other in a hidden corner of the palace. The palace walls, once an elegant and expensive marble white, were now stained with the vibrant stains of war-red.

Troy was now vulnerable.

“Find that inner strength now, use that well of pride!” Penelope reminded her sisters. “Fight through every pain now, ask yourself inside: What do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for? What do you fight for?”

Every woman reminded herself of why it was she fought, their answers ranging deep within themselves.

“What do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for? What do you fight for?”

Penelope stared down at the helmet in her hands, unable to forget what it represented. It was specially made just for her, with a metal said to be indestructible. She remembered when it was given to her, only one day before she was forced to leave her home.

She could never forget the tearful gaze, apologetic and filled with love, of the man who gifted her this helmet.

Oh how she missed him.

“Odysseus…”

How she longed to see those intelligent eyes once again.

“Odysseus…”

She couldn’t help but recall the time those eyes beamed with pride as they fondly looked down at the very symbol of their love.

“And Telemachas…”

Her baby girl, whom she had only known for a single year. What did her baby look like now, 9 years later?

“I fight for us…”

This was for them.

“I fight for us!”

Fighting in this war, aiding her cousin, empowering her fellow woman, following the whim of the Heavens themselves. All of it was for them!

Not for Greece. Not for the Gods. Not even for her.

For them.

What do you live for?

“Odysseus.” Penelope whispered to herself.

What do you try for?

“Telemachas.” Penelope stared at her reflection from the helmet’s surface.

What do you wish for?

“I'm on my way,” Penelope placed the helmet over her head, taking hold of the very spear that started her down this path.

What do you fight for?

She was going to end this.

Now.

“Attack!”

The Greek army made themselves known by jumping out for the shadows, startling the Trojan warriors unlucky enough to be missed during their secret infiltration of the palace.

Penelope and the others wasted no time inflicting their carnage upon the once untouchable Kingdom. The Trojan warriors were startled at first, desperate to know how their indomitable palace could have been so easily infiltrated.

It did not take long for them to ready themselves, determined to keep their Kingdom from being painted with even more of that familiar war-red.

But it was all for naught.

It did not matter that the Trojan warriors were male; it did not matter that they were bigger, stronger, and more durable than their female counterparts.

For the Trojan soldiers fought to maim, whilst the Greek soldiers fought to kill.

These women recalled how they were forced to watch their husbands leave, only to return one year later with their bodies shattered and spirits broken. They recalled that feeling of loathing and helplessness, unable to even think about avenging their men until permitted by the Gods.

They remembered the shame on their husbands’ faces for not being able to protect them from fighting in their stead; remembered how their children cried, pleading for them to stay, for the younglings were unable to bear the thought of both parents being destroyed by the war.

No. Troy had every chance to end this war. Now they suffer just as Greece has, for even the Gods have sealed the kingdom’s fate.

Tonight, Troy will die.

Penelope, now inside the main court of the palace, speared the throat of one of the Trojan men attempting to slice the back of one of her women.

There was only a small army of them within that court, both Trojan and Greek alike. The majority of the Greeks fought at the gates of the palace, keeping their adversaries from storming the vicinity.

The warriors fighting by Penelope’s side, only her most trusted sisters-in-arms, worked together to keep themselves and each other alive. Using their many hours of intense training, innate battle prowess, and the blessings bestowed upon them by Ares and Artemis, the women had achieved what was previously thought to be impossible: gaining the upper hand against the Trojan men.

Bodies littered the dance floor of battle, all of them of Troy. Through Penelope’s strategy, not a single Greek had fallen.

However, as she speared and cut down her enemies, Penelope couldn’t help but notice the Trojan soldiers began fighting sporadically; as if they were desperate to keep her and her comrades from infiltrating the palace any further.

But why?

Suddenly, Penelope felt a sharp sting to the back of her head.

“Ahh!” She collapsed to her knees, rubbing her head to find some relief from the dimming pain. “Who was that?!”

Quick to recover from her bound of shock, Penelope threw herself back to her feet and gripped the hilt of her spear. She was prepared to defend herself against the Trojan foolish enough to strike her.

What her eyes fell upon, however, was not one of the large, daunting men of Troy.

It was a Peahen.

However, this was no ordinary peahen. She was not a modest brown like the rest of her peahen kin. No, this one had her feathers bursting with the familiar blue and green seen on her male equivalents.

The feathers atop her head had the appearance of a crown, her eyes glowing an eerie white and gold hue.

Somehow, against all logic, Penelope found herself more fearful of this fowl than she had ever felt against the Trojan armies.

“A vision…” A voice suddenly appeared in Peneleope’s mind.

Penelope knew instantly that the voice was coming from the Peahen. The voice was feminine, deep, and full of power. She spoke the same way Penelope would when sitting upon her throne, addressing her subjects.

“Of what is to come, cannot be outrun. Can only be dealt with right here and now…”

From that moment she knew the true identity of the Peahen.

Hera.

Queen of the Gods.

Mother of the Heavens.

“Tell me how.” Penelope asked of the divine Queen.

“I don't think you're ready...”

The Peahen was honest with the mortal Queen about her thoughts, yet continued with her declaration.

“A mission. To kill someone's son, a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before…”

The Peahen walked with grace as she spoke, silently beckoning the mortal to follow. The disguised Goddess led the Greek to a secret staircase, the very thing the Trojan were trying to hide.

Penelope instantly understood what the God-Queen was commanding of her.

“Say no more!” Penelope ran up the stairs, confidently holding her spear in anticipation. “I know that I'm ready!”

“I don't think you're ready…”

Penelope pushed the double doors at the end of the stairs open, eager for her spear-point to make contact with Trojan flesh and to finally end this war once and for all.

She would not have been surprised to see a bulking man waiting for her behind those doors. After everything she’s gone through in the past 9 years, Penelope genuinely thought herself to be immune to the kind of surprises the Gods could throw at her.

Unfortunately, the Gods never did follow the whims of the mortals they ruled over.

There was no man standing behind those doors. In fact, no one stood behind them.

There was only a cradle.

Penelope’s eyes widened. Unconsciously dropping her spear, she walked over to look inside the beautiful bassinet.

There he was. Not a cruel man filled with sin, but a babe. Innocent. Pure. Sleeping with not a worry in the world.

“It's just an infant…” Penelope couldn’t help but hold her hand out, stroking the child’s untainted cheek. “It's just a boy…”

The baby leaned into the warm hand caressing his cheek, recognizing the hand of a mother.

“What sort of imminent threat does he pose that I cannot avoid?”

The Peahen, once perched on the ledge of the window in front of the babe’s cradle, spread her wings and flew into the sky.

“This is the son of none other than Troy's very own Prince Hector!”

Clouds started to surround the flying Peahen. They wrapped around the fowl, slowly covering the beautiful bird in white mist. In seconds the Peahen disappeared, the place where she once hovered now a perfectly shaped mass of clouds formed into the appearance of a tall, beautiful, regal woman.

Commanding the clouds around her with a flick of her wrist, the woman shaped one of them into a tiny baby. The cloud-baby morphed, transforming into the figure of a large grown man.

“Know that he will grow from a boy to an avenger! One fueled with rage as you're consumed by age…“

The cloud-man brandished a cloud-sword, slicing at smaller clouds shaped into a crowd of defenseless people.

“If you don't end him now, you'll have no one left to save…”

Hera commanded some of her clouds to begin filling the room, surrounding Penelope and the cradle. She modeled the clouds into the form of a very beautiful, very comforting, very familiar man.

“You can say goodbye to-”

Penelope’s eyes widened, staring at the face of the man whose life she cherished far more than her own.

Odysseus…

This cloud-Odysseus, more detailed than any of the other cloud creations Hera had created, stared longingly at the Greek woman reeking of blood. He smiled, that oh-so familiar smile she had longed to see for the past decade.

“You can say goodbye to-”

Odysseus…

The cloud-Odysseus gazed down at the baby in the cradle. There was this look in his eyes, this desire to cherish and protect. Penelope knew this look well, for it could only be known by a fellow parent...

No!

Penelope couldn’t do this. She was a mother! Her role in life was to treasure and protect children, not discard and kill them!

“I could raise him as my own!”

“He will burn your house and throne.”

No…

No!

Penelope needed to find a way!

“Or send him far away from home!”

“He'll find you wherever you go.”

There had to be another way!

“Make sure his past is never known!”

“The gods will make him know.”

Why was Hera doing this? Why couldn’t she understand!? Penelope can’t do this!

The mortal threw herself down, bowing before Hera in a desperate final plea.

“I'd rather bleed for ya, Down on my knees for ya-”

“He's bringing you down on your knees…”

The Queen of Ithaca couldn’t hear herself, the Queen of the Gods overpowering everything within her.

“I'm begging please-”

“Oh, this is the will of the gods!”

Hera’s voice boomed. Commanding. Declaring. Inevitable.

Penelope shook her head, slowly and in disbelief. Her chest felt heavy and constricting, making every breath a difficult and pained one.

…how…

“Please don't make me do this…”

How could she be expected to do this? Something so evil, so cruel?

Something so monstrous?

“Don't make me do this…”

Penelope didn't know when she began to weep, only realizing when her tears splattered on the cold, hard ground.

She felt a hand being gently placed atop her bowed head. This hand, once commanding and brimming with devastating power, now offered an ironic sense of comfort.

From one who was also a Queen.

A Soldier.

A Wife.

A Mother.

“The blood on your hands is something you won't lose…”

The hand’s presence disappeared, along with the many clouds surrounding her person.

The cloud-Odysseus, whose eyes Penelope couldn’t bear to meet, took hold of her chin. This hand, as large and scarred as she remembered it, held her with a firm gentleness she knew was reserved only for her.

He tilted her head up, compelling her to meet his gaze. Again, Penelope recognized the look he was giving her. It was the same one he always gave her: eyes filled with a warm, comforting love.

“All you can choose is whose…”

The cloud-Odysseus faded away, still gazing upon her with those eyes until he was fully gone.

Would the real Odysseus continue to look at her that way, knowing what she was about to do?

…

Penelope waited.

…

And waited.

…

And waited.

…

Nothing.

Hera’s presence was no more.

All that was left was Penelope, blood-soaked and guilt-ridden, and the baby, still sleeping with not a worry in the world.

Penelope said nothing. She could only stare at the boy, the very symbol of innocence before it was tarnished.

Slowly, soundlessly, Penelope picked the boy up. She cradled him gently in her arms, similar to the way she held Telemachas after bringing her into the world. She wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

Then, without a word, Penelope made her way to the roof of the palace.

#epic the musical #the odyssey #swap au #warrior!penelope #penelope of ithaca #hera #odysseus x penelope #the horse and the infant #canon divergent au #canon rewrite #canon compliant #my fic

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cuntdevil · 2 months ago

Text

★ CYBERGUARD !

thank you for signing up to cyberguard! we heard that you're looking for protection and you came to the right website. cyberguard is aiming to amplify the safety of people through the use and programming of robots to keep you safe. made to answer every beck and call, and more importantly, to provide you safely, we know we've got what you're looking for !

( series demographics. ) x-men, logan howlett, dark and violent themes & sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 11,667 words !

╰┈➤ robot bodyguard!logan howlett & idol!reader, alternative universe, some political topics, blood & violence, minor character death, possessive/obsessive!logan, erratic behavior, manhandling, rough sex, full nelson, asphyxiation, some slapping, fingering, degredation, unprotected sex because he's a robot, dry humping, sadomasochism, squirting, etc.

( author's note. ) i wrote this in one sitting. no matter how many times ive written robot aus, i always have the most fun with it 😋 !! anyway, this is my first ever wolverine fic, so please be nice to me, im sensitive !!

➤ RETURN TO THE CYBERCORE CATALOG !

You hated last-minute meetings. It makes you feel like you're right back in school again. Sitting around a desk as the authoritative figure looks down at you patronizingly. There's a moment of silence as you're waiting for your punishment, feet tapping agonizingly fast before being prompted to "stop," but not even thirty seconds later, you're right back at it. You've never had to receive punishment, fortunately, but your imagination was a wild one and you'd always see that scenario so vividly in your mind.

Still, you hate them. Never tell what it was about until you're being beckoned in. Just like at school, where they would never hint at the good news, make you wait anxiously for time on end and send you into a near heart attack because they want to build up the anticipation. When in reality, it was anxiety that they fostered inside of you. You have an idea about what this meeting is about, though, so you shouldn’t completely lie.

They’re probably going to be trying to conjure some ideas in regards to you and your safety after the attempt made on your life last night. You’ve become very vocal in political matters lately, letting the world know your stance on your current government and they didn’t like your response. You started getting hit with derogatory statements and slurs being spewed left and right, bigoted pieces of shit not afraid to tag you in their hate. Just like you, they shared a passion for their beliefs, but taking it to extremes.

Building a strong mind and a stealthy rapport, you had become immune to the messages, going about your regular schedule as you had rehearsals and interviews set in place for your recently released music. However, in came the packages made to your company building. They were always vetted before you received them— hence why you’ve received none— but the knowledge that people were so hateful because of your opinions was enough to invoke a shred of fear throughout your body.

Your management had seen this coming. That someone would try to make an attempt on your life, suggesting that they hired more bodyguards in your favor and limited the amount of fan meets and delayed your tour, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to show them that you were afraid because that meant they had the upper-hand in all of this. However, things have taken a turn as news has circulated of the events that transpired last night. You’re afraid that you no longer have a choice in this matter anymore.

The blue lights do nothing in your favor as you sing on stage. No matter how many times you’ve requested that they be replaced by another color, a color that would suit your warm undertones, they still shine on you. You try not to have it seem like you’re a spoiled idol that wants everything to your beck and call. You’re not a tyrant, no, but you’re wondering if that’s what it takes for people to take you more seriously.

Still, with your bedazzled mic in hand as you perform, you move on through the night. With a wardrobe made to suit your tastes and appearance to the world, the military green cargo pants hang off your waist and the black straps of your lacy thong shows. Paired with a pink bikini top and a ripped up wife beater that barely hides your breasts. Gold accessories best compliment you, but you make sure to keep it simple, afraid to lose any of your precious pieces out in the crowd while you perform. The Timbs are heavy on your feet as you move, but they help complete your look for the night.

Your hair was in a simple updo, but some of the bobby pins have come undone, not strong enough to hold up your locs that have come to hit your mid back. The stray stands come to get in your way from time to time as you try to interact with your fans. Everything felt ordinary in your extravagant lifestyle. You were an enigma that could move your waist fluidly as you danced, enticing your crowd as they cheered and screamed. Background dancers that sometimes staggered as they forgot their routine.

It was only a split second when the round of shots halted all movement from you. Immediate instincts telling you to drop to the floor, your bodyguards starting to swarm you immediately. Screams of terror and fright came from those on stage and off stage, as you peaked over your left shoulder to try and see through the mountain of men trying to bring you to safety. You manage to get a shot of one of your dancers receiving aid from another and tears well up in your eyes. Another set of shots fire as you can hear one bullet lodge into the lights before you’re being properly escorted backstage.

Not too long after were you informed that they caught the perpetrator— a middle-aged white man that had somehow made it through the metal detectors. Turned out that the device was faulty.

They had given you the luxury to spend the rest of the night to yourself, a traumatic experience that not only affected you, but your fans and staff. Guilt started welling up in your chest as it ruminate all night to the point that you were unable to sleep, but that given grace of somewhat solitude (they stuck a few bodyguards inside and outside your hotel room) ended the moment you woke up to a call from your manager summoning you to speak about the matter at hand.

You had arrived in less than thirty minutes, not bothering to freshen up like you should’ve. A hot and steaming shower could’ve calmed your nerves surely, but that would’ve also left time to ruminate for a bit longer. You didn’t want that. However, arriving on time early also wasn’t the best choice as they have you sitting outside the office door now. Two bodyguards standing by your slouched side. You’re tapping your feet rather annoyingly and you’re sure they want to tell you to stop, the sound becoming obnoxious, but they don’t.

The moment the door swings open, you’re on your feet before your manager could even process your presence in its entirety. “Is Anna Marie okay? Are the ones that got hurt okay?”

Your manager, Ororo, takes a moment before letting out a sigh. Shutting their eyes as they take their breath. She looks like she hasn't gotten any sleep either. She knows that evading your questions will get her nowhere, as you’ll continue to hound and badger her about them until you get an answer. She knows you mean well, but sometimes she wants you to be selfish rather than selfless. “They’re fine, love,” she states. “They’re in the hospital and expected to be discharged by tomorrow or the day after.”

You exhale in relief, one bodyguard heading in front of you as the other enters behind. Ororo trails in shortly after as the rest of management has already had their seats taken, yours being the only one vacant still. Pulling out the swivel chair, you take a seat.

“Hello, dear,” Charles Xavier, the co-founder of X-Men Entertainment alongside Erik Lensherr, speaks with a warm smile. From the times that you’ve had your encounters with him, he was always sweet and kind, making it easy to reciprocate a smile in conversation. With a gentle nod, the corner of your lips turn but never meets your eyes. “I hope you managed to get an inkling of sleep after all that happened last night.”

“I didn’t,” you answer truthfully, meaning to lie, but it just came out. You chuckle, trying to play it off. “But the show must go on.”

“I’m sad to hear that,” Charles frowns. “I know it’s been very hard on you, and I can ensure that we have something in hopes to make this all the more… bearable, for lack of a better word.”

“Yes,” Erik nods, finally speaking as he sits up in his seat. Unlike Charles, his button-up fit snugly against his skin, tightening as he fixes his posture. “I apologize for being straightforward, but I think it’s time that we really focus and put emphasis on your safety. What happened last night should’ve never happened and part of it is on us to blame for not ensuring that all of the equipment worked.”

Unlike the plenty of record labels and entertainment studios that tried hiring you once they heard your voice and saw your incredible talent, you’ve always felt like X-Men was the most genuine of the bunch. They weren’t the biggest of the bunch, but they’ve managed to stay honest with you through it all, helping you to become the star that you are. And you’ve surely proven yourself as many more talents have come to start switching over to them.

In a sense, they’re right. What happened last night shouldn’t have happened. The faulty metal detector had led to the harming of people and ultimately an attempt on your life. Others would have tried to blame it on the stadium, and despite the role they had to play in it, your company did as well. However, that fact doesn’t make you feel any better about the entire ordeal.

“And we’re all aware about your disdain for more bodyguards,” Erik continues, “however, your safety is our biggest concern and we must prioritize that right now. We’ve canceled the rest of your fan meet and greets and your tour is being delayed.”

There’s a long pause, as though they’re expecting a rebuttal from you. Maybe if you were in your right mind, you would’ve had one come off the top of your head, but you don’t. You’re exhausted, sleep-ridden and restless. Your mind is a mess, thinking about a lot of things, but can’t focus on one. Last night was a fright and though you wanted the upper hand all this time, you’re afraid that they had it all along.

You’re afraid, and you hate this feeling, so you don’t argue back. You don’t have the strength for it and you don’t want to. They were right the first time and if it wasn’t for your strong will and stubbornness the first time around, this could’ve all been avoided.

Your silence is Erik’s assurance to keep going. “We think it’s best that you receive therapy so that you have a healthy outlet, and we’re hiring another bodyguard.”

“Okay,” you nod in understanding. Everything that’s been said so far has been reasonable enough for you to agree with. “I’m fine with that.”

“You’re familiar with Cyberguard, aren’t you?” Charles speaks, clearing his throat at the end. The question catches you off guard as you tilt your head in question. You’ve heard about Cyberguard, underneath a bigger corporation called Cybercore, it’s an initiative to amplify people’s protection. A bodyguard service, only that the security themselves, being a bulk of metal.

You’ve seen and researched their prototypes, eerily resembling human kind that it’s unsettling. Something that you were also against as you’ve become to question the overall objective of the company. It all seemed like a ploy to get rid of the human race.

For the first time since this morning, your thoughts become more clear and coherent as you come to understand what Charles is silently trying to tell you. He’s seen your videos, heard the interviews of your political views, but never have you told him about your skepticism with the advancement of technology. However, he’s very perceptive and wise in his old age.

“No,” you shut your eyes, shaking your head repetitively as you’re adamant on your choice. “I thought you said you would just hire more men— women— but not a robot to babysit me.”

“Yes, my dear,” Charles sighs, knowing that this was going to take a turn the moment he suggested it. “But, things have taken a turn and we’ve had other idols and celebrities use them, and it seems like this is the best solution—”

“What about Scott and Hank?” you gesture to your current bodyguards. “What will you make of them? Or will they just be fired and not have a stable source of income now?”

“No, they will be temporarily placed with someone else,” Charles answers. “You don’t have to have the Cyberguard permanently. Just until everything settles down and you’re safe.”

“I'm safe with Hank and Scott right by my side,” you retort, crossing your arms.

“You once told me that you really appreciated our honesty,” Erik interjects. “So, I'm going to be frank when I say this to you, (Y/N). You no longer have a choice.

“The Cyberguards are more stealthy and faster than the average human. They're built to exceed the strength and abilities of a trained marine. No offense to you, Hank and Scott—” Erik gestures towards them to receive a silent and curt nod from them. “— But, they're regular men in comparison to their abilities. They're valuable men that we don't want to lose, but just like Charles said, your safety is our concern and you're our biggest idol, right now.”

You know that they only want the best for you, but you keep shaking your head. “I don't like it,” you speak barely above a whisper. “Are they even properly tested? What if it malfunctions and something goes haywire?”

“They have been properly tested actually,” Charles nods. “The celebrities that have been assigned one have positively acclaimed their uses and like them quite a lot. If anything goes wrong, you know that we'll be quick to replace it.”

“But—”

“My dear,” Charles tilts his head pointedly. “I hate to say it, but Erik is right. You do not have a say in the matter, not unless you want the next headline in the news to be one dreadful and in mourning.”

With a huff, your shoulders drop. Fuck.

—

Your new security has a name— Logan Howlett. And you’ve come to realize the appeal to the artificial being. While you have seen pictures of celebrities and their cyberguard, nothing compares to the real thing standing in front of you. Removed from its seven foot box and the styrofoam and wrappings, you would’ve mistaken it for being a real man— an attractive one at that.

You try not to audibly say anything as the handymen continue setting everything up for you in your luxury apartment. Barely home because of your busy schedule, now that you’ve been placed in a witness protection program as you like to call it, you finally have time to give it the homely and comforting touch it desperately needs. And hopefully (it makes you scoff having to say his— its name) Logan Howlett can make itself useful and do some of the heavy lifting.

“Wow,” Hank breathes, impressed by the cyberguard just as you are, though you’d never admit that. “I’m starting to feel less offended about what Mr. Lensherr said. This is a beast of a man.”

“Robot,” you correct him. “You mean, a robot.”

“Well,” he comes to the currently inanimate object’s defense. “It looks human, so might as well—”

“No,” you snort. “It’s not a living thing, so don’t give it the luxury by calling it one.”

“Listen,” Scott finally inserts himself into the conversation, sitting down at your dining table. “I don’t like this as much as you do. You’re right, after all. It does seem like the government wants to get rid of us, but maybe this thing will do you some good. Maybe it can help you more than we were able to.”

Since the concert, the two of your bodyguards who you’ve come close to to the point you consider them family, they’ve never really vocalized their opinions on the matter. They knew it would be too much for you and that you wouldn’t be able to handle it. They don’t want to be reassigned to someone else who might not show the same kindness that you have given them, but there’s enough guilt sitting on their chest as well to cooperate alongside Charles' and Erik’s decision.

“Just like Charles and Erik said,” Scott continues. “This is temporary. Once people calm down and you’re in a safer position, we’ll be back to you in no time.”

“Do you really believe that?” you frown. “Maybe this is some sort of way to silence me? To play the part as being a public figure that’s silent. This goes against everything I’ve said!”

“Well,” Scott sighs. “Sometimes you have to go against your word in order to get to where you need to be. Plus, they expect you to lock yourself up, so if you stay true to your word—” Scott jabs you in your shoulder, raising his eyebrows in warning “— press won’t release an article about how much of a hypocrite you are.”

“Just…” Hank breathes. “Make sure to keep yourself safe for the time being, okay?”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” you smile in a jesting manner and pull Hank in for a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

“Oh, you’re so dramatic,” Hank reciprocates the hug, his embrace warm and comforting to you. It lingers for a second longer than ordinarily until he’s pulling away finally. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you point at him. Hank chuckles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black pantsuit.

“I know you will.”

In another hour, the cyberguard finally lights up. Posture straightening as Logan’s eyes blink open. He has a rather gruff appearance, a scowl settling on his face as he scans his surroundings before his eyes land on you. He’s what the ancient Greeks thought of during the Hellenistic period. Features that seemed to be meticulously crafted by the Cyberguard designers. He has an oval-shaped face, dark facial hair that shapes it magnificently. His hair is styled in a particular way that has you chuckling. Is that why his last name is Howlett? Bouncy hair styled to resemble the ears of a wolf itself.

His physique is just as spectacular as his facial features, glistening under the light that peers through your windows. His skin is tanned and bulging in muscle that isn’t just for design. His outfit is basic, a white t-shirt that hugs to his skin, a pair of denim jeans and dark boots. Scott reaches for the pamphlet on your coffee table. Leaning to your ear as he stands to your left with Hank at your left, he whispers, “Says here that he’s from Alberta, Canada. Previously a lumberjack—”

“Shut up,” you whisper back, nudging him with a roll of your eyes. Hank snorts, adding his two cents in, “Apparently these bots are designed after real people— ones that have served the country.”

“If you both are still trying to convince me to be fine with this, you’re not,” you frown. “How is that even ethical? And how does that even make sense if he’s Canadian?”

“It is, apparently,” Scott shrugs. “Says that the families consented to this. Seems like he was well remarked during his time.”

“This is absolutely stupid—”

“Hello,” comes a voice abruptly. It’s deep and robotic. “My name is Logan Howlett, previously known as Weapon X by the company Cyberguard. I have been assigned to service (your full name) as a source of safety. It is my pleasure to work with you.”

“That’s our queue to leave,” Scott says, making his way towards the door with Hank, leaving you baffled as the handymen start gathering their belongings and leaving the garbage for you to clean up.

“Wh–What?” you choke. “That’s it? You both are just supposed to leave me alone with this thing?”

“According to Charles and Erik, yes,” Hank nods. “They said that within the first forty-eight to seventy-two hours, it’s best that the cyberguard gets acclimated to you as it goes through an update to familiarize itself with the… world. Says it’s not safe for more than one other presence while it does so. It’ll view us as a threat.”

“This is complete and utter bullshit,” you mutter under your breath as Scott unlocks the door. He gives you a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “We’ll check up on you when we have the chance. Message us if anything goes wrong. We’ll be available until the week after next.”

“Okay,” you slouch, watching as they give their final farewells. The handymen follow not too long after, leaving you alone with Logan. He simply stands there, watching you and your every move. When you go to the couch, he watches; when you reach for his instruction manual, he watches. From your quick skim of it, you cannot leave the vicinity of whatever area you’re in for the next hour or two so that it can memorize you in your entirety. It’s supposed to perfect its match when it begins to follow your every movement.

You read through it all, about the questions you ask and what it knows how to do, which is very little outside of providing protection. You learn how to charge it and where it can’t function, informing you of an app that you must download. Reaching for your phone, you do just so as you quickly ditch the paper as you begin to tinker with the app, inserting your bot’s information. You turn on the television to help pass time, but with the meaty man standing before you, it’s hard to focus.

Fortunately, within an hour, he’s finally announcing, “I will undergo a lengthy period of software updates within my system. During that time, you are finally able to move freely, but please make sure not to leave the building whatsoever.”

You finally sigh as you immediately rush to stand on your feet. Your body had started to ache, stretching out your limbs as Logan’s head tilted down and his eyes shut. Underneath his white shirt, a light shines, it’s blue as it starts to hum.

For the next two days, being on house arrest, you find yourself partaking in the hobbies and tasks that you never had time to do as an idol. It was fun picking up a hook and crocheting to your heart’s content. You didn’t have an idea of what you wanted to make, you just started creating. It brought you a sense of piece as you’ve come to terms about your current predicament.

Your phone starts buzzing rapidly, multiple notifications coming in at once. You needed to take a break anyway, your hands starting to cramp and you’d hate to get carpal tunnel. You crack your knuckles before picking up your phone. Twitter, Instagram, Netflix with a new movie you’ve been wanting to check out, but most importantly, the Cyberguard app and Ororo. You prioritize Ororo’s message, opening it. You had asked about the condition that Anna Marie was in, one of your background dancers, wondering if the girl would be willing to give you her number so that you could stay in contact with her.

From Ororo: Anna Marie said yes. From Ororo: [ Anna Marie’s Contact Information ] From Ororo: In regards to the fans, they accepted your offer in paying for their medical bills. From Ororo: But while this is happening, I really want you to look after yourself, love. I understand how you may feel as if this is your fault, but—

You don’t get an opportunity to finish reading the message when you hear a voice inside of your bedroom. “My update has completed and (your full name) is officially under surveillance.”

“Fuck!” you shout, dropping your phone on the bed as you shift around to see the culprit. The Cyberguard itself stands right at your door, taking in your bedroom and its disheveled state. Whenever you start crafting, your room makes sure to hold the evidence of it. The robot takes notice of it, looking at the floor.

“The current state of your room is not safe to be in,” he states. “It is best that you leave while I prepare it for a more suitable state for you, Miss (Y/L/N).”

If you had paid closer attention to the Cyberguard notification, you would have known that Logan had finished its update, informing you that he was heading to your exact location. You clutch your chest as you finally calm yourself down. For something built to keep you away from fear, it does a very good job at inducing it.

Of the two days that it spent updating, you’d walk past it and stare at it. You would contemplate on what everyone has told you about the Cyberguard and the pro’s that it presented, but you were adamant on not listening. The two days gave you a chance to really digest everything and your ordeal. If you wanted things to go back to normal, you had to cooperate. You couldn’t keep walking around with a stick up your ass and put yourself in danger again. While you still preferred to have Scott and Hank by your side more than anything else, you were clinging to the hope that this is what’s promised— temporary. So while you had Logan in your possession, you’ll make the best of it— you’ll have fun.

You test the waters, remembering that in the manual, he’s programmed to understand the majority of what you say as if he were a regular human. For everything he doesn’t know, he’ll undergo an update if requested enough outside of his scope. Some people who have Cyberguards in their possession have given you their experiences with them, saying that while they might be initially tasked to protect you and its their main objective, they do evolve into doing more. The idea of it all still creeps you out, sending a chill down your spine, but you start to accept it. You don’t want anyone else to come to harm because of your one-sided ideology.

“Hello, Logan,” you say, tasting his name on your tongue. “How are you?”

He tilts his head in a way that’s robotic, resembling the movies you watch as the artificial intelligence tries to gain some more understanding. “I am doing well. How are you? Are you doing well?”

A week passes before you’re getting a phone call from Scott. You answer it in a heartbeat. “Took you long enough to call.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly on the phone. We got assigned to someone else sooner than we thought.”

“Excuses, excuses,” you sing, propping the phone in between your ear and shoulder as you stand inside the kitchen, Logan standing not too far away as you’re boiling a pot of noodles. You stir it, making sure not to have it stick to the bottom. “How’re you? How’s Hank doing? Who are you guys assigned to?”

“I’m doing fine,” Scott shrugs on the other line. “I’m with someone that’s actually pretty chill despite his cold attitude to the media. Dutch Duval— you’ve met him before, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “In passing. Good to see that he’s warm around you. I didn’t get that luxury.”

“Man,” Scott sucks his teeth. “That sucks. Maybe he’s a he-man woman hater.”

You laugh at the reference. “Nah, maybe he’s cool. He did seem to be in a rush when we were introduced. What about Hank? How’s he doing?”

“He got the short end of the stick,” Scott says. “Hired twenty-four-seven. The asshole won’t even let him get a break for himself outside of pissing, eating and breathing.”

“Damn,” you breathe. “That’s tough. Hope the jackass doesn’t try to keep him permanently though. He’s mine.”

You giggle jokingly, but Scott doesn’t meet your laughter. Only responding with a ‘yeah.’ “You’re asking so much about us, what’s up with you and Logan? You haven’t called us at all, so we can only assume he’s safe and functionable.”

“Yeah,” you hum. “He works. Can’t say much about him, though. Does what he’s told and always trailing me like a lost puppy.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be for too long.”

“Six months is too long in my book,” you scoff.

“They said three to six months,” Scott corrects you. “You should be more optimistic.”

“I’ll try harder just for you,” your voice is monotone.

“I’ve got to go,” Scott comes to end the call. “I’ll talk to you whenever I can, ‘kay? Call me if you ever need anything.”

“That’s what I have Logan for, remember?” you point. “But, will do. Talk to you whenever.”

Scott doesn’t respond, simply ending the conversation there before you hear the line go dead. The water starts to bubble and you give the pot of noodles a good two more minutes before you’re pouring the majority of the water in the sink. However, as you’re pouring, you carelessly look away, the hot pot getting too close to your skin and burning you. You yelp in pain as you nearly drop the noodles down the drain. “Shit,” you curse, before you feel arms around your waist and pull you back.

“Scanning area to see the severity of the wound,” he announces, grabbing a hold of your wrist, a flash of blue shining in his brown eyes. “Seems to be a first degree burn. Can be handled with ice or running underneath cold water.”

Still holding onto your wrist, he leads you to the sink as he moves the pot aside and turns on the pipe. This is the first time that you’ve been under any “danger,” rendering you speechless as you watch him in action. Shifting the pipe to blue, he pulls your wrist to the water. There’s a momentary sting before it resolves in a comforting feeling, you exhale as the pain leaves your body. Watching you and feeling how your heart rate eases back down, Logan asks you, “You are back in a calm state. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you reply. “I’m fine now.”

Letting go of you, Logan returns back to his previous position. “Due to your carelessness, I deem that cooking isn’t appropriate for you. I will undergo an update in order to learn culinary skills to better serve you.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Due to my carelessness? It was an accident.”

“An accident that resulted in you getting hurt,” he retorts.

“I don’t need you cooking for me,” you shoot back. “I can do it on my own.”

“My update will begin at the start of midnight and last for approximately twelve to twenty-four hours,” he responds. “You may finish making your meals until then.”

You continue watching Logan incredulously, continuously snorting and huffing under your breath about what he said. You're sure that he hears you, but has the knowledge to understand that he doesn’t need to answer back. If it wasn’t for his robotic way of speaking, you could swear you were arguing with a real person.

Give the robot a chance, they said, you think, resuming fixing your noodles. If I knew it would be so sassy with me, I would’ve fought harder to not have it.

—

“The father is the murderer,” Logan announces from his side of the couch abruptly as your eyes are glued to the screen. Blue lights illuminate from the television screen in the dark as you’re covered underneath a blanket with a bag of Cheeto Puffs residing next to you. Logan sits up obnoxiously straight, a creation of perfection. You’ve managed to change him from his old attire, which proved to be harder as he was stubborn as a mule. Constantly arguing over your safety as he swatted at your hand from reaching for the hem of his shirt. Finally, you managed to convince him that because of the dirt, it could lead to you getting sick and potentially dying. His programming to be concerned over your very being worked as it was able to convince him to shed the shirt and pants.

Your chest could burst from his incredible physique, his pectorals and abdomen lined and glossed. Every inch of his was thoroughly made as body hair veiled his chest, even more closely replicating a human. Is this how the original one looked like? You thought to yourself before snapping back to reality. Now, he’s sitting across from you, eyes glued to the screen with his arms bulging out in the black shirt all the same as the white. You furrow your eyebrows as you wonder just how he knows that bit of information, possibly spoiling the entire show for you.

“How do you know?” You ask, shoving a few puffs into your mouth and chewing.

“It’s best that you eat one chip at a time to prevent choking,” he advises. Over time, you’ve come to ignore him in moments like this.

“How do you know that the father is the killer?” you repeat, elongating your question.

“His body language,” he simply responds. “He’s so calm and controlling of the situation that it’s so obvious.”

“But, it could be anyone of them,” you point out. “Everyone of the suspects has a motive to kill.”

“You’re right, but according to my research, it’s the father,” he spoils, causing you to slap the arm of the chair. You groan.

“Ugh, that’s cheating!” you exclaim, throwing your head back. “Now you spoiled the entire show for me.”

“Isn’t the entire objective of the show is to find out who the killer is?” he asks, confused as to why you’re upset. He thought he was doing you a favor by telling you who it was in order to decrease your levels of stress that he gathered from you. “It’s apparent to me that your stress levels have risen since starting this show. I need to decrease them for your safety.”

“Sometimes,” you start, “sometimes stress isn’t bad. There are some things that people are stressed about that aren't going to harm them. Like, television shows, crossword puzzles, and murder mysteries. And, it’s fun to try and guess instead of looking up the answer.”

“Is that so?” Logan’s eyebrows knit together, taking in the information. “I will surely have to update some more to better understand that.”

Recently, he’s been constantly updating for all sorts of absurd reasons. He always retorts that it’s all for your safety and to better understand how to fit your needs, but they’ve become about the most mundane things in life. One of them being the stupid joke, ‘why did the chicken cross the road?’ and how exactly is it meant to be funny. It’s adorable, closely resembling a child learning about the world for the first time and how it functions. You hate to say it, but you’ve come to enjoy his company.

The next time he watches anything with you, he makes sure not to do research in his database, simply going based on what he’s come to learn from your fondness of mysteries and films.

“It’s going to be…” you twist your lip upward, squinting at the screen as you try to point out the possible murderer. “The pregnant girl.”

“How so?” Logan hums, skeptical of your choice.

“No one suspects the pregnant girl,” you say. “Kind of makes it badass actually.”

“Badass?” He questions your choice of words. “Murder is badass.”

“No, but being the underdog is,” you try to explain yourself. “The unexpected. No one will see it coming as the cops will believe it’s everyone else, but her.”

“That’s…” Logan thinks about your explanation, a blue glint in his eyes. “That’s smart actually.”

“I know right!” you beam. “I’m a genius.”

You’re right. Logan has been updating quite periodically, and every time he does so, it’s quicker than the last. Now a regular update from him only lasts for about an hour or two. He feels more connected to you. He feels more human this way. It started off innocently, trying to better his understanding about the human body and its health, learning that it ranges and differs in each person. Until it comes to other things that he noticed. What you do in your spare time, how you’re an idol and just what that is. Every single abstract thing he deems important and fascinating, he upgrades his database so that he can reference it when he needs to.

He knows everything about you and what information the internet is willing to offer. He knows the name of your parents, where they’re from and the lineage that follows. He learns that you’re opinionated, very much so, and you have a disdain to creations like him. He can’t quite wrap his mind around it still, seeing how you seem so friendly, but you’ve noticed how you refer to him as an it, naming an object that isn’t alive.

He comes to learn that you hate the concept of his very being because you feel as though he’s your competition to life itself. But of the two months that he’s been living here, he’s been trying to be equal to you to better keep you safe, to better understand you. There’s no way that he could compare to you when he wants to be your equal.

This fast-paced gain of knowledge makes him all too aware that he shouldn’t feel this way. That he shouldn’t be trying to grasp onto something that he’s not and that he’ll never be, but he was tasked to you. What better way is there to serve as your bodyguard if he can’t understand you in his entirety?

There’s a loud and hefty knock coming from your front door. Perched at the desk inside your bedroom, he watches as you jump up from your bed and dash out into the hall. Raising his eyebrows in question to who could have you so excited, he’s on his feet as he’s right behind you in a matter of seconds, ready to answer the door for you.

“It’s okay, I know just who it is,” you dismiss him, but he butts in and pulls your hand away.

“I am still tasked for your protection,” he says. “That means answering the door and checking the vicinity for you.”

You no longer argue with Logan, letting him check through the peephole and scanning the two individuals through it— Scott Summers and Henry “Hank” McCoy. His mental files pull up that these two were your former bodyguards as you remember a conversation that you had previously, insinuating that he was only a temporary fix and not tasked to you forever. If he had a heart, he would proudly say it’d drop.

After he continues his check, he concludes that it is safe for them to come in. Opening the door for you and being the first thing they see when they enter. You frown as the door swings open, seeing how Hank and Scott were expecting to see you first instead of their replacement.

“Oh,” comes from the lips of Scott as he comes unsure on how to greet Logan, so the robot does it for him. He holds out his hand, waiting for the gesture to be reciprocated. “Logan Howlett. Nice to meet the two of you.”

They stare at Logan with amazement, hearing how the cadence in his voice differs tremendously to how he was at first. They’re speechless and unmoving at first until Hank’s the one to break before Scott, taking Logan’s hand to be met with a strong grip. He nods politely, a tight-lipped smile forming on his lips. “I’m Henry McCoy. Everyone calls me Hank, though. This is—”

“I can introduce myself,” Scott nudges Hank, sending a playful glare. “Scott Summers.”

Scott feels the same pain that Hank experienced, taking Logan’s hand for a firm shake. Still, he smiles through it, already wary of the bot as something seems off about it. “I see you’ve kept our girl safe.”

“Your girl?” Logan inquires with the raise of a brow, eyes glancing between the two of them, having learnt the concept of jealousy.

“Yes,” Scott smiles. “Our girl.”

Tired of the exchange, you remove Logan’s hand, it immediately loosening at your touch as you pull Scott and Hank in for a hug. “I’ve missed you guys so much.”

They both pull you in for a hug, but neither of them miss the way Logan watches them intently, noticing how his nostrils flare and his eyes flash blue.

—

“I’m starting to understand why you were so hesitant on getting it now,” Hank gestures to Logan, who appears not to be paying too much mind to the two. His eyes glued to the television as he clicks between the shows. Hank’s left eye twitches, gently shaking his head as he watches from a distance. Scott shares the same concerns as well as he keeps some distance from Logan, residing on the opposite end of the couch. Unbeknownst to them that he hears it all.

“Getting what?” you ask oblivious to what he’s referring to, sitting around the dining area with him. Looking at you in confusion, Hank notices a shift within your behavior. Where you were once angry and stiff at the prospect of a Cyberguard, you’re now seemingly comfortable with it inside your house.

“Logan,” Hank answers. “The cyberguard.”

“Oh,” you purse your lips, it dawning upon you. “Yeah, well, I took your advice and gave it a chance. I spoke to other people that had a cyberguard and they all said that if I gave it a chance, they could be very useful. And he is.”

“But,” Hank squirms, trying to word what he’s about to say perfectly. “Doesn’t it alarm you? How attached to hip he is to you?”

“He’s been like that the moment he finished updating the first time,” you shrug.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I mean, don’t you find him too human? The way he acted when he first came— how he’s watching television right now?”

“He’s just doing what he’s been programmed to do,” you take it so nonchalantly, dismissing Hank’s concerns. “And like I told you, everyone I spoke to said that was normal behavior. They evolve to better suit your needs.”

“I don’t know, (Y/N)...”

“Listen,” you exhale. “I still want you guys as my full-time bodyguards, but I have four more months left because the messages and the threats still haven’t cooled down. So I have to play it cool and go about my days as if it’s regular. He’s not a harm to anyone and if he becomes one, you and Scott will be the first people to know about it.”

You and Scott will be the first people to know about it.

“Okay, fine,” Hank breathes, your apartment starting to feel uncomfortable. His voice picks up as he pushes out the chair. “Y’know what? We gotta go.”

“Huh?” you question the sudden movement. “Wait— what? Hank, nooooo.”

“Something just came up and we need to be there,” Hank motions to Scott to follow him, which doesn’t go questioned as he gets to his feet as well. Your chair legs scratch against the tile floor as you look from between the two, going after them as they hurry to the door.

“Don’t be serious, Hank,” you pout. “Scott, please! We barely had any time together.”

“I think two hours was enough time,” Hank remarks, catching you off guard. Mouth going dry, you stop in your trail as your body stills. They make their way out as Scott throws an apologetic smile your way. “See you later, (Y/N).”

Storming to his vehicle, Hank doesn’t wait for Scott to catch up to him, simply unlocking his doors and jumping in. When Scott catches up, he only looks at Hank before waiting for him to speak.

“There’s something wrong with that bot,” Hank states the obvious.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Scott snorts. “What did (Y/N) say?”

“She referred to it as if it was a person,” Hank looks at Scott. “She never usually gives in so easily.”

“Well,” Scott shifts in the seat, reaching for the seatbelt. “We did tell her to try to.”

“Yeah, but even so,” Hank shakes his head. “There’s something wrong with it. Staring us down as if we were stealing his girl. Questioning us— ‘your girl?’ That’s (Y/N)’s living nightmare and she didn’t seem to suspect a thing.”

“You’re right,” Scott mumbles. “We definitely have to report our suspicions. That thing isn’t safe for her.”

“You’re telling me,” Hank exasperates, finally starting the car engine, putting the car in reverse. Pulling out of the spot, Hank looks towards your apartment, immediately noticing the window. There Logan is, glaring right at the two of them.

“And there goes the fucker,” he curses. “Watching us.”

—

When he’s finally outside of his eyesight, he shuts back the curtains and trudges back to your slumped body on the couch. For them to have the nerve of showing up to only put you in an upset state. Logan has never seen you like this before, it elicits a certain reaction that feels carnal and violent. He clenches his fists, nails digging into his faux skin before he feels something piercing it. It’s only a sliver before he retracts and goes back into a calming state, but he felt it— whatever it was.

“You’re not okay,” he states. “Would you like for me to start the shower for you so that you can relax?”

He remembers you mentioning that the shower was your only time where you got to properly relax and think. The heat of the water calms you down to the point you’d stay until the water gets cold and your skin resembles a prune. He wishes he could experience that feeling with you. He’d need it in a moment like this where he feels something flaring up within his chest.

Pushing yourself to sit up, you nod. “Yeah, maybe that’ll do some good.”

He does what he suggested, heading straight to the bathroom in order to start the water. Pushing in the plug and sprinkling in the bath salts for you before turning on the pipe. He sets it close to red, waiting until he recognizes the scent of lavender and patchouli and sees the steam starting to form. He teeters and plays with the temperature before the water is at a reasonable height before switching off the pipe, and announcing that it’s ready.

It takes you a moment to get up from the couch, shuffling your way towards the bathroom. You don’t acknowledge his kindness, never thanking him before you shut the bathroom door and twist the lock despite the many times he’s advised you not to. He ignores it, turning on his heel as he heads straight for the door. In his database, he pulls up Henry McCoy and Scott Summers.

When you get out of the shower, it’s too quiet. However, your mind is fogged with hurt to even care. If anything, Logan’s silence is a blessing right now. It’s what you need. Reaching for your towel and you unplug the drag, hearing the gurgling sound of water traveling down the pipe. A shower was exactly what you needed, though you still feel emotions bubbling on your chest as your sadness turns into anger. You feel foolish for being mad at Hank’s concern, but you knew the moment he stood up that it was bullshit as to why he was leaving.

You had cooperated with everyone. You did what they told you to do for the couple of months that you’ve been placed on house arrest. You constantly checked in with Anna Marie and the rest of those who got hurt, knowing that they’re in better and healthier conditions now that the months have passed. You stayed silent on social media and rarely checked in, but now that you are complacent, just like it was expected of you, Hank had the audacity to be mad at you.

Logan’s behavior was questionable, you couldn’t doubt it, but you believed it to be the way he was programmed. To be locked inside for so long to the point you barely left the house, and when you did, it was to go on your patio. He had been skeptical of your neighbors, eyeing them down and collecting information in a manner of minutes. He needed to know who could be a possible threat to you, and maybe, just maybe, saying “our girl” had flashed some red flags in his hard drive.

The bath wasn’t enough, you conclude, pulling on a baggy t-shirt and shorts before diving onto your bed. Sleep would have to be the final blow.

—

The claws that stretched from his knuckles were covered in blood and the flesh he cut into. Two lifeless bodies before him laid there as he bent down to rip out a clean piece of fabric. He’s done research on Cyberguard, learning that there is something wrong with him. In his files, none of it mentions the metal claws coming out of his hands. But, that’s the only flaw he has come to accept.

He’s been gone for too long, and while the sky is dark, there’s still a possibility that you’re still awake. He’s grateful to know where you’ve stashed your spare key. However, with one look at him, he’s dirty and you’d know that he’s been out. Having never left your side, he doesn’t want to take a chance seeing you speculate his whereabouts.

Cleaning the blades that protrude his skin, he finds one thing about his robotic state useful. He has no fingerprints. Inside of Hank’s apartment, it becomes Logan’s personal closet as he rids himself of his clothes and replaces them with something new and similar to what he previously had on. He wipes down his boots, however, not stopping until it shines and fixes his hair. When everything about him seems like nothing is out of the ordinary, he’s finally ready to leave.

However, through the windows, he starts to see the flashing of red and blue. He’s seen too many films and documentaries to know that it’s not a good sign. He’s grateful that he never planned to leave the way he came in, quickly searching for another escape route. Sliding the patio door open, he shuts it back quickly before making the long jump, not caring how it may affect the inside of him. He was made to withstand many things, so this fall shouldn’t be a heavy detriment. He grunts when he makes the landing, dashing out of the light as he quickly conjures up another route back to you.

By the time he locks the door, taking a step into your apartment, you’re fast asleep. You’ve left the television on and by the way that there’s no dishes in the sink, you fell asleep on an empty stomach. He huffs at your lack of care for yourself. Luckily, there are leftovers to which he can feed you when you awake. He switches off the television before making a beeline straight to your bedroom door. It’s shut and when he twists the handle, it’s completely dark inside. He inches closer towards you, where he can check on your heart rate, when he notices that it’s at a pace to when you’re waking up. Your voice sounds before he can completely register.

“Logan,” you squeak, voice scratchy as you take a seat in the bed. You reach to turn on your bedside lamp, revealing your disheveled and exhausted state. The t-shirt you’re wearing has been cut around the neck, to the point where it can fall and reveal your breasts. “What have I told you about watching me like a creep?”

You giggle, indicating that you haven’t detected a thing, still completely unaware. Great.

However, his eyes roam you, taking notice of your pert nipples and how they poke through your shirt. Your bonnet is sliding off your head, and your eyes are still burdened with sleep that he now completely understands the sexual appeal. He feels something whirr inside him before he’s taking a seat next to you without a word.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he breathes. “I’ve watched your movies, seen porn and watched men and women have— same sex and the opposite gender.”

He can feel your heart rate pick up as you become more awake, processing his words. “Logan, what—”

“I want to try out what I’ve learned,” he cuts you off. Your eyes widen as it comes to dawn on you that maybe Hank was right. That maybe you have become blinded and completely oblivious to the way Logan acts. You start to question your colleagues and everyone else who's told you about their experiences, always hinting at more, but you never caught on to what they were saying. They said that Cyberguard could always do more, that you could work them to your own benefit. Was this what they meant by that?

Before you can utter out another word, Logan’s invading more of your space and you can feel the heat of him on you. “Don’t tell me no. Please don’t tell me no.”

Your breath hitches because you should be scared. You should tell me no and part of you does, but you’ve also grown curious. His eyes shine blue at that moment, and you gulp. Your body speaks for you, reaching to cling onto the fabric of his shirt. Something about it feels foreign to your touch, but you don’t question it. You question none of it, only staring into his harsh brown eyes and nodding. “Okay,” you whisper.

It’s all that he needs to hear for confirmation, pulling you tight within his hold as he wastes no time in putting you on his lap. Staring into your eyes before they traverse down your body, how no matter what, you always manage to shine. He tugs at your shirt, pulling further down to reveal your breasts. Your dark nipples pebbled and sensitive as they scrape against the fabric and your breath hitches in need. Your hips buck into him, hands wrapping around his neck dig your fingers into his skin. It feels soft, the texture closely imitating the real thing.

“Logan,” you gasp, feeling how his pelvis meets you at your core, eliciting a string of your juices at the friction. Seeing the desire in your eyes, the visceral want and need inside them. It’s all he’s ever wanted. It makes him feel equal— equal to you. His hand reaches to caress your face, feeling the hairs against your skin before squeezing down gently and making your lips pucker out a bit.

“Tell me that you need me,” he whispers, voice growing huskier as his hold gets tighter. “Tell me how much you want me.”

“I need you, Logan,” you give him exactly what he wants, hips rising as your heat only grows. “Need you and want you so badly… It hurts.”

You don’t know what you’re saying, not sure if you’re telling him that he’s hurting you or that if the ache in your sweet cunt needs to be alleviated to the point it hurts. The ladder feels more true as you clench around nothing, a coil in your stomach starting to form in a want that you’ve never experienced before. Staring back into his pupils that shimmer of blue is still there. “Tell me you love me.”

“I—” you choke, not sure if you’re able to muster up those words, remembering that he’s not real. You splutter as his hand wraps around your neck, squeezing to the point you can barely breathe. “I—”

In a matter of seconds, you’re on your back, the wind knocked out of you before you can even process the change of positions. There’s something maniacal about the way Logan looks at you now, the fine lines on his forehead fixed in fury as he searches through eyes, staring down into your pupils for the truth. “Don’t worry,” he assures you. “I’ll make sure you learn to.”

His lips crash down into yours, feeling the wetness of your tongue as he sucks you in. His weight against you keeps you still, trapping you in your dared to move. Your arms still draped around his neck, cling to him as mewl and whine at the pressure of his weight. Bucking your hips ever so slightly, feeling your arousal cling to your panties and seep down to the crotch of your shorts.

Is this right? A sense of rationality seeping through you, residing deep in your bones as something nags at your chest. Your sense of morality, what you’ve been using your career to fight for. This goes against it. However, the more you fought, the more people got hurt. Flashes of Anna Marie plaguing your memory as your rapport against Logan weakens in a matter of seconds. You sought for a change for it to only falter and nearly end lives. So is it wrong to give in once more?

Logan starts to thrust his hips into you, grunts and groans that he replicates from what he’s seen, his motion sensors feeling his appendage rub against your pussy and eliciting something within him— lust. “You’ll be mine by the end of all this. You won’t be needing them.”

You have no clue as to what he’s talking about, focusing on yourself and the need you have for Logan right now. His kiss is rough against your skin, your saliva softening the contact as he hums against you. He nips and bites at you ever-so-often, nearly drawing blood until his sensors go off. He feels like an animal, needing you in a way that’s entirely inhumane. The adrenaline of killing your former pets still coursing through his veins, proud to be your only one as of now. As of forever.

“Let me have you whatever way I want,” he commands. “Give me permission to.”

There’s no doubt in your mind, quickly to oblige him without a second thought. “Of course. Yes, Logan.”

Your shirt tears, a loud rip sounding through the silence of your bedroom. It’s a true show of his brute strength in your eyes, but for him, it’s not even an inch to what he’s truly capable of. The next he rids you of are your shorts, leaving your flimsy panties for last as he can see the wet patch right at the crotch of it. A thumb presses down on it, just as he’s seen through many videos. However, he’s not gentle when he pushes down on your clit, seeing bubbles starting to form through the cotton.

You mewl in slight discomfort, squirming underneath him that he slaps your inner thigh and demanding that you stay still. One hand holds you down to make sure of it as he glides his thumb up and down, feeling your wetness. “Mmmm…” he drags, feeling satisfaction at how he’s making you feel.

He slips your panties to the side, it being the one thing he doesn’t want to damage through this intercourse. His thumb pushing right at your entrance to feel how your body tenses at the invasion. “Relax,” he whispers. “You know I would never bring you into real harm.”

The reminder settles you down as he spreads your legs wider for him, his thumb protruding your walls and getting a taste of what it feels like. The both of you moan in delight, his thick digit pushing until the hilt. However, it doesn’t fill you up like you want and need, ultimately needing more of him. He’s dead set on tormenting you, fucking you languidly and slowly with his thumb. He basks in the squelch of your pussy, how your arousal bubbles and drips out of you and down in the crevices of your ass.

“Logan,” you whine. “More.”

“Do you think you deserve it?” he retorts, pulling out his thumb to glide against your folds and back up to your clit. “Do you think you deserve more?”

“Yes, I do,” you nod meekly. “Know I do.”

“Is that so?” he hums, and you can only nod some more. He chuckles, thinking about Hank and Scott once more. How you were so eager to invite other men into your home. Not considering him and how he’d feel to other men around you. Did you really care so little about your own safety? But, he’ll still give you what you want— what you need. Maybe it’ll be the best medicine to heal you.

Pressing his thumb against your lip, he pushes down as they stay closed. “Open,” he commands. “Taste how wet you are for me.”

Just the obedient girl you’re proving yourself to be, you open up your mouth. Immediately, your tongue swirls around his thumb, cleaning off your arousal. Eye contact remains with him, eyes seeming to sparkle as you hum and moan around his digit. A violent groan builds up from the pit of the chest as he can only imagine the other men you’ve been with. It’s enough for him to yank you by the waist into him and flip you around, treating you as if you’re a ragdoll.

Your back is to him now, pressed against his chest. You can still feel his clothes on, realizing just how vulnerable you are as he moves you against his clothed state. His arms wrap around your neck, bulging out to cut off the flow of air. Veins protrude and it becomes dizzying as he whispers in your ear. “You’re a nasty little slut, I hope you know that.”

Everything about this is exhausting. The quick and swift changes in emotions, how he goes from being needy and wanting to manhandling you as if you’re nothing. From wanting you to tell him that you love him to degrading you. You can’t wrap your mind around it as his grip tightens around you and your vision becomes fuzzy. He fluctuates with his hold, knowing just when you’re about to lose consciousness and not. He’s coming to find it to be a fun game, toying with your safety.

“Only I should be the cause of your pain and pleasure,” he seethes into your ear. “Do you hear me?”

When you don’t respond, you feel a sting against your pussy. You yelp out at the pain as he repeats himself, “do you hear me?”

It’s menacing and guttural to the point where you’re tearing up. You nod as you croak out, “yes.”

“You’re going to take what I give you, okay?” He waits for your approval. “Just like you promised from before. No going back on your word because you’re a good girl.”

He affirms this before he’s rolling his hips, making you feel the bulge against your ass. One arm around your neck as your hands cling to it as the next pulls your hips into him. He continues at this until your breathing is erratic and he’s done his tormenting.

Then he shuffled around to tug down his jeans, ridding himself of both the garment and undergarment, but not before kicking off his boots. They fall to the ground with a clunk as his jeans pool at his feet and he can hear them rubbing together before they’re successfully off. You can feel it against your back, how it’s large and inhuman. Eyes that bulge as you arch your back.

“Logan, you’re so big,” you gasp. “Don’t know if—”

He hushes you with another smack, this one softer than the previous. Shhh follows after as he calms you. “You promised, didn’t you?”

You can only hum out a response as the bicep around your neck tightens.

“You’re a strong girl. It’ll fit.”

Arms reaching underneath your legs, holding underneath the joints of your knees to lift them up to your chest. He pulls you up, making you rise until he can slot his dick in between your folds and your underwear. With both of his arms occupied, he can only have faith within the band of fabric to keep his length in place. Strings of your juices drip down to the sheets of your bed, small droplets being absorbed as you coat his cock in your essence. A sweet nectar that many people want to taste, but he’ll be sure to prevent it from happening.

He bounces you on his lap, letting go of your legs and pressing himself further against you. There’s many things that he wishes himself to do. Like the ability to get hard, to be able for you to feel just how you make him feel. For precum to leak from the tip of his cock and not the illusion of a hole just for the accuracy of his design. He wants you to feel him twitch inside you before he cums, shooting ropes of white as your pussy milks him. However, he can only align his cock with your entrance and make you feel good. But, how is he supposed to feel equal to you if he can’t replicate a real man?

He takes his time entering you, his head testing the waters before he’s entering inch by inch. He can press into your stomach, feeling where his head stops as he can’t fully sheath himself inside you. Just as you had claimed. He was too big. Still, he upholds the power as his arm goes to wrap snug around your legs, lifting them up to push into your breasts as the next blocks you from smooth breathing.

He’s no gentleman as he’s painted himself to be, laying on his back and pulling down with him. Drilling into your cunt with a vice grip around your body that you constantly are on the very fine line between passing out and consciousness. Still, your mind stays warped within the pleasure, focusing on how it’s making you feel and wanting him more. Your room is filled with the sound of yours and his moans intermingling with the slaps of your wet pussy and his dangerous thrusts as the stench of your cunt seeps through the conditioned air. Your cunt squelches, queefing every so often as it gets wetter. Tears staining your face as you call out his name and begging for more.

You cry out in pleasure, feeling how his cock beats down at your walls, kissing at your cervix. Constantly hitting that one spot inside of you that he has you seeing stars. You’re starting to choke out your moans, trying to make a coherent sentence out to him. “Lo-Lo— ‘m g’nna…”

You don’t have to finish what you’re about to say for him to know. Your body convulses and pulsates as he continues, keeping the same vigorous pain as he’ll have your pussy bruised and battered by the end of it. “C’mon,” he groans into your ear. “Cum like the good little bitch that you are.”

With a few more thrusts, a translucent mess splashes from you, splattering at great lengths from your sheet covers and down to the ground. Your body vibrates and spasms as Logan’s hold on you eases and he lets your body calm down. You’re breathing heavily as your throat’s gone dry and the dark and splotchy vision clears up. You exhale sharply as you come to terms with everything. Your naked body and Logan’s cock inside of you. He’s planting chaste kisses against your neck and jawline, holding you close to him.

“Now you’ve got everything you need.”

—

The next morning, you wake up clean, except for your sheets. You can still feel dampness from your release as well as the arms that hold you close to them. You let out a yawn, squinting as the sun dares to peek through the blinds as you see your phone lighting up and over one hundred messages flashing over it. Some from Charles, others from Erik and the rest from Ororo. Glancing at Logan, he remains in slip mode, the light where a heart would be lighting up yellow.

Plenty of the notifications are from incessant missed calls that rang from five in the morning until now before an urgent message reading, Call as soon as you wake up, from both Charles and Erik. The next set of messages you check from Ororo, having called you back to back as well before these rows of messages.

From Ororo: From what I’m guessing, you’re asleep and your phone is on silent. When you get this CALL ME. From Ororo: You’re still not up and it’s important that you know what happened. I’m sorry. From Ororo: [link attached]

You click on the link, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, absentmindedly clicking the link. The video you’re brought to is on medium volume, but it seems like it’s at full volume the moment it starts playing, just as Logan’s light turns to green.

This just in! Two men found dead inside of their shared apartment home. Neighbors have reported loud and worrisome sounds at the dead of night, saying it sounded like a very brutal fight before screams of pain sounded through walls. When police arrived, the two bodies were found in such a gruesome state.

They were seen to have three deep gashes in their skin, closely resembling an animal attack before being impaled in the chest. It’s speculated to be an animal attack, but authorities are speculating as the escape route seemed to be through the balcony door and having jumped five stories down. They’re battling between who or what could’ve done such a monstrous thing.

The two victims that were identified were Henry McCoy and Scott Summers—

Your phone is snatched from your hands as you choke out a sob, having caught a glimpse of their faces on screen. While Logan would typically tend to your tears and heartache, the news outlet blinds him from doing so as he turns off the video and sets your phone down on the opposite side of you and out of reach.

“You shouldn’t burden yourself with such things in the early morning.”

( author's note. ) my back mfing hurts from writing this pretty much all day. i hope you guys love it because i really enjoyed writing this.

#logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman smut #deadpool and wolverine #james howlett x reader #james howlett smut #x-men #hugh jackman #logan howlett #wolverine #x men x reader #tw: dark content #tw: (n)sfw #‧₊˚ ⋅ wiki collections.

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polakina · 9 months ago

Text

how they react to you getting hurt on a mission

call of duty headcanons #3

hc masterlist // masterlist

anyone else feel like there's not enough alex keller fics about? if you've got recommendations, send them my way pls <3

rating: explicit

heard it over comms while the 141 were raiding an enemy safehouse

you had confirmed intel that they were hiding out after an attack on the local town, so moved in to take them out

you were making your way through the upper sections of the building, whispering into comms as you cleared each room

but as you moved further down the corridor, one of the terrorists barged out of the last door on the left, firing all bullets in your direction

you managed to dodge out of the way for most of them, sending bullets through his skin and taking him down, but not before a bullet lodged itself in your shoulder

price was practically shouting in your ear as he heard the gunshots from above and through his earpiece

he made it to you first, checking over you with worried glances, pulling the collar of your shirt aside to assess the damage

cursed out of sheer panic, grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up, calling in for evac and medics

did not leave your side the whole flight back to base, constantly asking if you were okay

reaching the medic tent at base, he kept a stern eye on the medics, barking orders to be careful with you

but he was scared

scared he could have lost you

his fear always turned to anger, it was an emotional side of him you'd noticed since working together

he stayed with you the whole time

angry

so fucking angry

not at you, of course

but at literally everyone else

saw you get knocked up against the wall, pinned by your throat with a knife pointing into your stomach, hearing your cry of pain

he saw red

momentarily blacked out as he shot the guy hurting you at least 6 times

a little overkill but deemed it necessary

was immediately by your side. knocked your hand out of the way when you tried to cover it, and shushed you fiercely when you tried to tell him you were okay

did not leave any room for negotiation before picking you up bridal style and hauling ass out of there

didn't trust any medic to patch you up

did everything himself

turned super super quiet as he saw the wound fully, the blood pooling out of the gash. his face turned almost white

wouldn't speak as he cleaned and stitched the wound

it was only when he finally met your eye that his gaze softened. the apologies started uncontrollably spilling out

he apologised for literally an hour; about how he could have stopped the guy, how he could have gotten there sooner

you had to calm him down the whole night

never let you lift a finger until you were fully healed, and even after that he was hesitant to let you do anything strenuous

you caught him looking at your bandages every so often, even during training

one you even caught him in the act while he thought you were sleeping. he lifted your shirt to check you hadn't pulled any stitches, and you scared the shit out of him when you asked what he was doing

the two of you were climbing to reach a higher vantage point as appointed snipers

your rope snapped and you fell to the rocks below

he damn near snapped his neck trying to repel back down to you

saw your dislocated shoulder and couldn't hide his disgust until you pointed it out

nobody was able to reach you, the two of you were alone

said it'd click back into place on its own, and you weren't sure if he was trying to reassure you or convince himself

but when you explained he needed to knock it back into its socket, he shook his head

flat out just said no

the man can deal with blood and bullets and knives. broken bones or dislocations were not his strong suit

his stomach did that weird flip thing when he saw body parts out of place

you scolded him for being a baby and he pouted at you

had to psych himself up to do it

"its just a stupid shoulder, get it together" "don't be a baby, it'll take two seconds" "god that's so disgusting, why does it look that gross"

your eyes nearly rolled out of your head and the initial pain had basically subsided by the time he actually did it

nearly threw up when he felt your shoulder pop back into its socket

was riding alongside you in the truck when it flipped over from an enemy missile

the whole vehicle launched topside and rolled upside down

his first port of call was to turn and check on you, rushing to panic when he saw the blood on your face

after pulling himself out of the vehicle, he ran around and yanked over the driver side door, unclipping your belt and pulling you onto the pavement

saw your broken leg and almost passed out

literally forgot all his medic training in that one moment and only ended up calling for an evac when you told him to

was at your every beck and call while you recovered

you had to be wheelchair bound during your recovery, and as the base trainer, you were able to do your job from your chair

made jokes about you now having to be on wheels

did anything to lift your spirits

helped you with absolutely anything you needed, and secretly kind of liked that he had to take care of you

fell into the male housewife role really quick. scarily quickly

wheels you around base, and more often than not rolls over somebody's toes when he passes them. doesn't have the best spatial awareness capacity

always there to change your bandages, check your wounds

whenever your leg hurts, he's like a professional masseuse

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fourthavecafe · 24 days ago

Note

could you please write for killua (we’re basically gon ya know killua and reader are besties) and killua is teasing us about how we’re so physically weak for being ticklish

killua using his assassin techniques for something much cuter

────୨ৎ────

You and Killua were casually hanging out, somehow getting into a conversation about human weaknesses. Killua, leaning back on the couch, casually dropped facts about body pressure points and pain tolerance, his eyes flickering with that usual mix of disinterest and hidden knowledge.

“Y’know, there are about 108 human weak points. The ribs, for example… I could practically disable someone with just a poke.”

You smirked, trying to appear brave. “I could handle it.”

Killua raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh really?” His voice had that familiar teasing edge. “You? Handle it?”

Before you could take back your words, in a blur of motion, he was beside you, fingers poised. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

Suddenly, his finger poked at your upper ribs. But instead of feeling pain, a giggle escaped your lips. Killua blinked, momentarily stunned. “Wait… what?”

You burst into more giggles, trying to scoot away, but he didn’t let up, his eyes narrowing as if you were some puzzle he was trying to solve. “Why are you laughing? I poked your weak spot. You’re supposed to be in pain.”

“It…tickles!” you managed to gasp between laughs.

Killua’s face shifted into one of utter confusion but there was a glint in his eyes now—he was intrigued. And if there was anything Killua liked, it was having the upper hand. “Ticklish? Seriously?”

Before you could reply, his fingers darted toward your sides again, this time prodding your ribs and underarms. A shriek of laughter erupted from you as you squirmed helplessly. “Killua, stop!” you pleaded, trying to catch your breath.

But he was grinning now, clearly enjoying himself. “Your biggest weakness is ticklishness? Wow, you’re more pathetic than I thought” he teased, though the playful tone softened the insult. “How are you supposed to handle anything if this is all it takes to bring you down?”

You were a wriggling mess at this point, and Killua didn’t relent. His fingers found your belly, then your bellybutton, sending you into another fit of uncontrollable giggles. “Right here too, huh?” he said, smirking. “You’re just full of weak spots.”

“St-stop!” you choked out, laughing so hard that tears pricked your eyes.

He finally eased up but hovered close, eyes glinting with satisfaction. “I’ve faced off against some dangerous people” he mused, crossing his arms and leaning back as if reflecting on your ticklish defeat. “But I’ve never seen anyone so weak to… this.”

You gave him a half-hearted glare, still catching your breath. “You’re such a jerk.”

He snickered, flicking your forehead lightly. “You’re the one who said you could handle it.” There was a pause, then softer, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear it: “You’re lucky you’re kinda cute when you’re all flustered.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right. But before you could process, Killua was already back to his usual self, standing up and stretching like nothing had happened.

“Anyway, now that I know your weakness, I guess I’ve got some serious leverage over you” he said, flashing a wicked grin. “So you better watch out.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah… You’ll pay for this, Killua.”

He just gave you a nonchalant wave as he walked away, but there was that slight, rare hint of a smile still playing on his lips.

#tickle fic #tickletorture #hunter x hunter #killua zoldyck #killua x reader #hxh killua

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eds6ngel · 3 months ago

Note

first of all: i absolutely love “double the pleasure” !! thank you so much for writing my silly slutty thoughts babe <3💋

i currently can’t stop thinking about robin buckley while listening to “burning desire” which got me thinking:

“have to touch myself to pretend you’re there. your hands were on my hips your name was on my lips”

or: robin accidentally walking in on her roommate (reader) touching herself, maybe even humping one of robin’s pillows (or using one of her “missing” shirts as a pillow case) while moaning her name.

-🪷

when two become one ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆₊˚⊹♡

robin buckley x fem!afab!reader

summary: you'd liked robin ever since you met her in your college class, so what happens when you hear her moaning your name from her room in your shared apartment? and what could possibly spiral from there?

warnings: SMUT!! fem!afab!reader. implied lesbian!reader. college!au. mutual masturbation. self pleasure. pillow humping. kissing. hickeys. hair pulling. boob play & sucking. fingering (r receiving.) oral (both receiving.) scissoring. dirty talk. swearing. pet names (baby, sweetheart, my love, pretty girl.) homophobia mentions. roommates to lovers/friends to lovers. fluff and comfort right at the end!! [7.5k].

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! sorry it took me so long to write this, but as you can see, it's a long one :')) regardless, i really hope that this is what you wished for!! ♡

You and Robin had become friends when you met in your communications class freshman year of college. You quickly bonded over your love for language learning and female rock artists.

However, the more time you spent with her, the more a certain kind of feeling cropped up. You tried to bury it down as much as possible, immediately doubting that she would even be into girls like you were. She was always talking about her co-worker, Steve, so the chances of her being straight were at an all time high.

Freshman year soon passed by and it was time to think about a second year living situation. Fed up with the confined living space of a dorm room, you two had decided that a shared place would be more convenient this time round, and you quickly found a two-bedroom apartment to lease for your sophomore year together.

You and Robin had just finished up dinner, a late occurrence since Robin was closing up Family Video tonight. So, by the time your stomachs were full, you both called it a night.

After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you placed your crate of skincare items on your bed, along with your fingerprint-stained mirror, and begin your nightly routine.

You manage to get through your toner and eye cream, before you notice a certain sound creeping through the thin wall.

“Ahhh…”

You assumed at first that Robin was just getting comfy, or maybe was simply yawning, so you continued with applying your acne cream.

However, another word followed by a more identifiable sound all but confirms what Robin is actually doing.

“Oh, fuck Y/N. Just like that.”

The soft, yet strangled cry unleashing from her throat sends shock waves straight to your core. And her moans don’t let down. If anything… they increase.

“Such a perfect pussy for me.”

Were you living in some sort of fucking fantasy? Did you in fact finish your skincare fifteen minutes ago and now you were imagining some sort of wet dream in your sleep?

You had to pinch yourself to double check. Yeah, definitely real.

And with the ever increasing moans, the ever more wet your pussy got. This couldn’t be happening. You had fucked to the thought of her for the past year. Had she heard you? Is that why she was doing this?

But, screw the reasoning. The heat between your legs was just growing and growing, the resistance becoming harder to ignore.

And soon enough, you were abandoning your skincare products to the end of the bed and getting comfortable, leaning your upper back against the headboard.

Your hand slipped below your purple, cotton panties, quickly finding the normal rhythm that you would pace yourself at on your clit.

Your middle finger creating an endless circling motion around your clit, your left hand grips onto the sheet below you, Robin becoming louder and louder by the second.

“Yeah. Rub it just like that.”

You imagined your own technique being used on her, her experiencing the desire you are, the pleasure you are, the same shivers running up her spine. It took an ultimate amount of courage not to buck your hips into your palm, your lower body desperately planting itself to the linen sheets.

“Mmm… Need more. Need your fingers, please.”

It was almost instinctual, you falling directly to her command. You gather your juices on your middle finger, coating it in your warm slick, before inserting it into your hole. Your left hand leaves a section of the quilt scrunched up into a ball as it instantly slaps to your mouth, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You couldn’t be loud. You couldn’t reveal how pervy you were. Not yet.

“Faster, please!”

Your finger speeds up to the sound of her voice, another one sneaking into your entrance. Your mind was flooded with images of Robin on the other side of the wall. Her sprawled out on her cream-coloured mattress, hand shoved underneath her blue-checkered shorts as her fingers pump in and out of her sopping wet pussy, her juices cascading down her thighs like a goddamn streaming waterfall.

Your hips could no longer handle it, and neither could the sound of Robin’s pleas and cries. The wet sound of your pussy bounced off the four walls of your bedroom, deeply surprised at how Robin hadn’t caught on to the entire situation yet. Your hips bucked up into your hand, fingers driving into your hole at an unbelievable pace as the sound of your own voice desperately tries to escape from your throat, the only thing stopping it being the intense grip your palm had over your chapped lips.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!”

And how could your body cope with that pleasurable statement? The knot in your stomach was ever increasing, tying itself tighter and tighter into a thick ball, threatening to burst at any given moment.

Robin wasn’t even attempting to keep her voice down anymore, her cries so ridiculously loud that it was basically confirmed in your mind that she wanted you in this vulnerable position. How could any woman listen to those pathetic whines and whimpers and expect not to jerk off?

“Fuck! I’m cumming!”

There were the words. The words that gave your body permission to explode into a bloody dam. Your teeth gnaw down onto your hand, eyes rolling so far back that all you can see is white as the entire orgasm washes over you in a second.

You imagine Robin right now. Hips bucking wildly, fingers furiously speeding over her clit, mouth opened wide as the sounds force themselves out of her like a demonic spirit exiting her soul. Her hair a wild mess, panties stained with her arousal, leaking through onto her pyjama shorts as her orgasm struck through her.

All of a sudden, it goes quiet. You sit there revelling in the moment for a few seconds, before you hear the sound of the toilet being flushed from Robin’s en-suite.

Did that really just happen? It took your brain a little while to catch up to reality. This wasn’t a late night thought, or a spicy dream, or any other sexual scenario your mind conjured up. This was reality. You just got off to the sound of Robin Buckley’s voice. Moaning your name.

You masturbated with Robin fucking Buckley.

Robin has another early morning shift at Family Video, her darting out the door at a whopping 8am. Way too early for you to be fully functional.

But, you would be fully functional around midday, and Robin would still not be home yet.

You knew that Robin wore a cropped, ripped Blondie t-shirt to bed along with her blue pyjama shorts. She would sometimes change into them after a long day of work or classes, making it a real struggle for you not to let your eyes wander.

Your mind had been going crazy over the fact that Robin had been jerking off to the thought of you in that shirt. The sweet smell of her skin, her hand bunched up in the fabric, most likely pinching and swirling her nipple around through the thin material, her palm squeezing the flesh of her rounded breast.

It was too much for you. You needed that shirt. And what better way than to steal it when Robin wasn’t here to potentially catch you.

You first checked the small pile in the laundry hamper, making sure she didn’t shove it in the mix of dirty clothes. It wouldn’t be a shock after all, she probably ruined the fresh, fruity smell of the laundry detergent extremely quickly.

But, once that place was scratched off your list, you instantly headed towards her white bedroom door.

Pushing it open with your palm, you are greeted with a blue-patterned wallpaper. Her walls are adorned with many more movie posters than when you last visited her bedroom, ranging from “The Breakfast Club” to “The Terminator.” Her desk is a cluttered mess, textbooks lying open on random chapters with half-finished notes decorated with random little doodles she obviously got distracted by. But, the main character was sitting ruffled on her bed.

There it was, in all its glory. Your hand cautiously lifts up the fabric, instinctively bringing it towards your nose. You take a deep breath in, letting the smell invade your senses. You knew what sex smelt like, the pheromones hitting your nostrils instantly. The distinctive smell made your throat release a small whine in pleasure. It was perfect. She was perfect.

You debated taking the shorts as well, but you didn’t want to make yourself too obvious. So, placing the shirt underneath your arm, you exited her room and closed the door behind you.

She was definitely going to notice. But, you just had to play dumb. Pretend you didn’t know a thing. Pretend as if you didn’t sneak into her bedroom on purpose just so you could get off to the smell of her sweet, floral scent gracing her clothing. To the thought of her wearing that exact t-shirt to bed every single night.

No, that was nothing like you, of course. You definitely weren’t going to wear it later. And you definitely were not going to jerk off whilst doing so. And, no, the last thing you would do is purposefully be loud about it.

That definitely was not on your list at all…

You were getting ready to head to bed, water running at a cool temperature in your bathroom as you applied your face cleanser. You could hear the distant sound of huffs and puffs, a few objects falling to the floor on the other side of the wall, Robin’s trail of voice slowly approaching your room.

“Hey!” she half-shouts, her breath coming out in jagged pants, her hair aloof from rummaging through her room. Her blue pyjama shorts were already sitting comfortably on her waist, her long legs being accentuated, making it hard for your eyes to stay fixated on her blue orbs. “Have you seen my pyjama shirt? I swear to God I left it underneath my shorts, but I just can’t find it anywhere! I mean, maybe it could be buried in my closet somewhere and I was just being a klutz this morning, but why on Earth would I even put it in there in the first place? Surely I would’ve been functional enough to leave it in the most obvious place in my room, right?”

You keep yourself composed, effortlessly trying not to swoon over her rambles. It was one of the things that made you fall in love with her in the first place. You just loved it when she would go on and on about whatever was in that pretty little head of hers, whether it be college, work, or a new random hobby she had picked up during the week. Whatever it was, you would spend eternity listening to her if you could.

“Uh, no, haven’t seen it. Sorry, Robs,” you lie through the skin of your teeth.

“Huh, that’s strange,” she questions, thinking deeply as to where she could’ve left it, having no idea it was buried right under your cream-coloured, silk pillow. Meanwhile, whilst she’s deep in thought, you wash off your face and begin to brush your teeth.

She sighs in slight annoyance, “Oh well, I guess I’ll have to find another shirt. Or I could just sleep in my bra, of course—”

You almost choke on your own toothbrush at that statement. You already had a million images in your head on what you could fantasise about tonight, but knowing what she would look like on the other side of the wall? That erupted something completely new in your brain.

And it seems as if she was blushing too, her cheeks rising in temperature, the pink hue beginning to glow on the soft fat, “Not that you need to know that, of course. It was just my brain moving faster than my mouth, or, wait… my mouth moving faster than my brain? Um…”

You spit out the leftover toothpaste collected in your mouth, washing your toothbrush and placing it neatly back in the holder. You turn to face Robin fully now, using your palms to lean against the bathroom sink. There’s a new found tension between the two of you, your gazes staring into each other’s souls, searching for the connection you both desired to have.

As Robin rubs the back of her neck, small toned muscles on show which you try your hardest not to directly stare at, she yawns, trying to break the ever growing awkward atmosphere, “Anyway, I’m tired. Are you tired? Of course you are, you’re getting ready for bed. So, I should just…” she signals behind her, “Go, right? I mean, unless you want me to sta— No! You’re going to bed! Yes! So am I!”

She yawns once more, “See? Tired. So, I’m just gonna… skedaddle out of here, I guess. So… class, tomorrow, 10:15, yes?”

You hold up thumb upright, pursing your lips and nodding your head slowly, “Yes. 10:15. Bright and early.”

“Yes, okay…” she looks you in the eye once more, before swiftly turning her back and practically running to her room, “Night!”

“Night… Robs…”

You stayed in place, impatiently waiting for her door to close. And once you heard that click, you were leaping onto your bed, getting yourself comfortable against the headboard. You leaned behind you, grabbing Robin’s ripped Blondie t-shirt and throwing it over your head roughly. You wasted no time in dragging your fingers underneath the lining of your panties. You were gonna be loud, and you were not afraid to show it.

Your middle finger collected the dripping slick that was oozing out of your pussy, the pure thought of Robin describing herself as half-naked in her room just moments ago having a physical effect on your body. Once your finger was lubed up, it came to lazily rub circles around your swollen clit.

The pure motion had your body relaxing into the sheets below you, a soft sigh escaping your throat. Your fingers danced over the bud, moving from an up and down motion, to a side to side.

From the other side of the wall, Robin could hear the faint sounds of sharp inhales. She pressed her ear to the wall, stopping her search for her t-shirt once again to be met with a cry of “Oh, Robin. That’s so good.”

The sound sent shivers up her spine, your voice becoming louder and louder by the second.

In your room, you begin to experiment, dipping your middle finger into your hole, letting out a strangled cry.

You used your spare hand to massage your left boob in your soft palm. You squeezed and massaged it, imagining how many times Robin had teased her perfect breasts in this exact t-shirt.

You knew they were perfect, you didn’t have to see them to confirm that. You remember the way they slightly bounced at the pool party you both attended last summer. Water dripping down the gap between her breasts, boobs sitting just right in her red bikini, hardened nipples ever so slightly peaking out from beneath the fabric. It took all your willpower that day not to find some mysterious way to get your hands on her.

Meanwhile, Robin was dipping her own hand underneath her panties, body splayed across her bedsheets. “Need another finger, Robs” is what she heard from you, her soaked digit circling her entrance before diving right in, her hips setting a steady rhythm so she could fuck herself on it.

She imagined you sat on her chest, the front of your pussy rubbing up against her perked nipples as she fingered you slow and steady from behind, slowly increasing the pace to make you mewl and cry for her.

“Jesus Robs, that’s so fucking good!”

Robin let out a loud whine at your words, her finger hitting a particularly sensitive spot within her hole, her velvet walls clenching on the long and slender digit. She targeted it, curling it and deliberately dragging her finger over it again and again, her other hand coming down to join her in attacking her swollen clit, swiping it back and forth in her palm, a rough pace being set. Her imagination was going too wild in chime with your phrases for her body to react in any other way.

You almost paused at the sound of Robin’s moans, but the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing from your now two fingers sliding in and out of the delicate walls of your puffy pussy made you continue to be loud and proud about the pervy attitude you had towards your roommate.

Your mind conjured up the image of Robin between your thighs. Her soft, wet tongue gliding up the centre of your folds, paying close attention to your clit, swirling around in continuous circles. Your eyes were completely closed, the sight consuming your every thought, the made-up physical sensations transferring over into reality, as if you could feel her golden blonde locks tickling the inners of your thighs as she shook her head violently on your vulva.

Your moans were almost synchronised, the sounds bouncing off each of your walls, transferring through the thin material, desperately expressing your need and want for each other.

Robin’s bangs were stuck to her forehead, hips lifted off the bed as she rode her fingers fiercely. In the other room, you visualised those same ring-covered fingers stroking the delicate inners of your pussy, making your legs begin to shake, your rhythm almost being lost at the sudden violation.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

You could feel the knot tightening in your stomach, letting out a loud, “Holy fuck, I’m gonna cum, Robs!”

And for the first time that night, you were pushed over the edge by the sweet sound of Robin’s voice replying to you.

“I’m gonna cum too, Y/N!”

The waves hit you like a vigorous ocean desperate for crash-landing, your legs struggling to stay put as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your palm was pressed flat against your vulva, fingers still buried deep inside you as you let your hips do the talking. They kept thrusting upwards, thighs shaking intensely as they tried to find some sense of calming.

Robin followed just after you, your cries of pleasure from your impending orgasm sending her over the edge also. She rubbed her clit powerfully, hand moving from side to side as her voice let out strangled moans and high-pitched whines. Maybe she was thankful for the missing shirt as sweat was dripping down her body like no tomorrow.

As you came back down to reality, you caught up with the situation. Your hand was still tightly gripped onto your boob, you having to remember to loosen your hold. You could hear Robin’s pleas of pleasure, your brain obviously knowing that she was cumming alongside you.

There was an empty silence from her side of the wall, before the sound of the water pipes working away signalled her washing her hands, a slight pang of disappointment in your mind as you thought of her sweet, lovely juices being carried away by the gliding water coming from the sink.

You stayed lying down for a moment, taking another smell of the t-shirt. You sighed in satisfaction as both of your smells deliciously blended with one another. Everything about your plan was working perfectly so far. Robin now knows that you are also into her, and the sexual tension was forever growing.

Now, there was only one more thing left to conquer in this grand plan of yours. Robin had to not only hear you jerking off… but see you as well.

You seemed to get through your 10:15 communications class with Robin without bringing up the events from the previous night. However, you would be lying if there wasn’t some unresolved romantic tension. You were desperately trying not to test the waters there and then inside the classroom, but you wanted to save that surprise for when Robin got home later.

Robin had another class after you, so it was the perfect opportunity for you to set up your little plan.

As soon as you got in the apartment, you threw your keys into the tray by the front door, taking your comfortable coat off and hanging it delicately on the hook. As soon as you entered your room, you got out of your stylish clothes and changed into something more comfortable. You decided that a long t-shirt and a pair of panties would do. After all, you were hoping by the end of today, all of those items would be on the floor in a messy, unorganised pile alongside another person’s…

You organised your pillows neatly, Robin’s Blondie t-shirt peaking out, almost teasing you for the upcoming events. One of your pillows is arched up against the headboard, whilst you stare at the other. It was covered in a pink pillowcase, dotted with white stars across the material. It was a beautiful combo, you had to admit, but sadly, that had to be abandoned. You grabbed the end of the t-shirt, before sliding it over the bare pillow.

Perfect. Your new pillowcase.

You couldn’t wait to leak all over it, leaving a permanent stain, your scent forever being marked on Robin. Every night when she went to bed, she could feel and smell the essence of your juices, the liquid consuming her entire being.

So, now you just had to be patient and wait. Robin’s second class of the day was luckily quite short, and an even shorter walk home than the one you had returned from.

Just another fifteen minutes until it ended. Another fifteen minutes until you could hump your pillow to your delight. Your door was perched open at just the right amount, enough for Robin to be able to see you the closer she got, but also concealing enough for it to seem like a genuine mistake. And of course… for her to hear you moan her name at the loudest volume possible.

Robin sighed as she entered the apartment, running a hand through her golden locks as she closed the door behind her. She throws her backpack down on the couch, about to head to the kitchen to grab a mid-afternoon snack when a certain sound can be heard down the hall towards the two of your bedrooms.

She stops in her tracks, the noises being ever so familiar and reminiscent from the night before. She shouldn’t be doing this. This is weird. This is creepy. This is perverted.

But she came with you last night.

She’s heard your moans many times now, and you’ve basically confirmed that you get off to the thought of her, so what was the harm in seeing you pleasure yourself in person? What’s wrong with a little curiosity?

She slowly tip-toes towards the sound, heading towards your bedroom. Your door was slightly ajar, just enough for her to take a peek through if she leant back against the wall.

She could hear some sort of repeated thudding sound now, almost at the right spot to see you and…

There you were.

Robin had to refrain from letting out a light gasp as she took in the sight of you. Joan Jett t-shirt adorning your chest, the slight peek of your red, lacy panties grazing across the… pillowcase.

She found her t-shirt all right. It was being used as a pillowcase, your pussy rubbing across it. You were letting out the sweetest moans, high-pitched squeals as your clit evidently bumped against the material. Your eyes were closed, one hand gripping onto the bedsheets, the other latched onto your t-shirt as your mouth hung wide open. Your hips were doing all the work, moving you up and down, up and down the pillow.

But, when you started moaning out her name again? Robin was a goner.

“Your pussy feels so good, Robbie.”

That final bit of restraint snapped suddenly. She quietly popped open the metal button on her jeans, sliding down the zipper so she could slide her hand under the waistband of her black boxers.

Her black-painted fingernail found its way to her swollen clit, the juices already leaking from her vagina, swirling around in a deliciously perfect motion. She used her other hand to grip onto the wall, almost smacking it by the sudden pleasure she experienced.

She tried her best to keep her eyes locked on your body, watching as you kept moving and moving and moving, not daring to slow down, too consumed in the pleasure to have a care in the world.

She let out little soft gasps, her eyes fluttering shut every once in a while to just take in the sounds of your voice calling out to her. However, one gasp seems to be too loud, as an “Ah!” leaves her mouth.

She has no time to hide herself, your eyes already snapping open and taking in her position. Her right hand is sunk beneath her underwear, bangs beginning to stick to her forehead as her fingernails are digging into the cream-coloured wall, fingertips turning red from the sheer pressure she had on it.

You smile softly at her. You wanted to put on this dominant attitude, that was your entire plan, but your world shattered when you saw her in that vulnerable position. She looked so pretty, so beautiful trying her best to keep quiet. You knew that you wanted to get her into this place, this state, but you didn’t actually prepare yourself for what that would entail. Your mind conjured up some pretty gorgeous sights, but nothing compared to the real thing. Nothing compared to Robin Buckley, being caught jerking off to the sight of you, rubbing your pussy against her pyjama t-shirt. It was Heaven on Earth.

“You were touching yourself…” you let out breathlessly, completely unsure of what else to say. The girl had rendered you speechless.

“Yeah…” she whispers back, before raising her voice a little and gulping, gesturing to you and your position on the bed, “That’s really fucking hot.”

There’s a stark silence between the two of you, a tension that neither of you know how to react to. But, finally, after so goddamn long, you ask the question you’ve been meaning to ask her since last fall, “You wanna come join me?”

She nods immediately and in such a helpless manner, “God, yes please.”

You climb off the bed, practically running up to her as she rushes to you, grabbing her by the back of the head and smashing your lips into hers.

It’s messy. It’s desperate. It’s passionate. But, you also wouldn’t want anything else.

Your hands are tangled in her hair, hers cupping your face as she opens her mouth wide, slotting her tongue in yours. She tastes absolutely divine, your tongues sliding hungrily across each other as you feel her pushing you towards the edge of the bed.

You shift back onto the mattress, lips never parting as she towers over you, slowly pressing your body down into the bed. She parts from your lips to leave a trail of kisses from your cheek all the way down to your collarbone. She pays particular attention to your neck, sucking and leaving love bites, finally claiming you as her own. With every sinking of her teeth into your skin, you let out a soft moan of “Robs…” infatuated by her presence.

She stops attacking your neck to softly look up at you, stroking your cheek with her thumb, the rest of her palm resting behind your ear, “How long have you known?”

“Since last November…”

“Jesus Christ, baby,” she mumbles, heading back to your neck again, “So long I could’ve had you…”

She leaves small pecks over the red marks that were now forming, “Had a good long think last Christmas Break… Realised I did actually like you…”

“I like you too…” you reply back quietly, eyes closing from the sudden delicate turn from her.

She looks up again, “Can I show you how much I like you?”

You take a gulp before nodding frantically, “Please, Robs. It’s all I ever needed.”

She smiles sweetly before bunching up the ends of your t-shirt, your arms instinctively rising above your head so that she could remove the item of clothing.

Her eyes immediately are drawn to your breasts, leaning down to place tender kisses on each of them and in between them, anywhere she could gain access to. She swirls her tongue around your left nipple, gently sucking at the perked bud, cupping the outside fat with her palm before repeating the movement on your other breast. You close your eyes and let whatever pleasure consume you be let out into the atmosphere, various soft moans and breathy whines escaping your throat.

She continues the trail of kisses from your cleavage, down to your stomach, leaving some more love bites in her quest, and finally reaching the waistband of your panties.

“Can I take these off?” she murmurs, eyes that were once a beautiful shade of blue just like the ocean, now consumed by an eternity of blackness, the absolute extreme lust filling her orbs.

“’Course you can, baby. You can do anything to me,” you weakly smile, the newfound nickname sending shivers down Robin’s spine as she hooks her painted nails underneath your lace panties, you aiding her by lifting your legs in the air so she can glide the garments off of your long, luscious legs.

She glides a finger up your folds, your juices collecting on her digit as your hips involuntarily buckle, your mouth letting out a “Gosh, Robs—”

“Such a pretty pussy for me,” she mumbles, smiling up at you through her lashes as another finger joins her in getting lubed up. And it doesn’t take long before she’s biting her lip and slipping her two fingers deep inside your hole.

Your hand instinctively grabs at her locks, head being thrown back before you quickly regain yourself, staring at Robin as she gasps herself, “God, they take me so well.”

She shuffles closer, kicking her jeans off where they had pooled around her knees, letting them fall to the ground at the edge of the bed as she curls her fingers inside you.

A whine forces itself from the back of your throat as she begins to set a steady pace, eyes locked on the way your juices slowly spill out of your vagina.

Your hand is massaging her scalp, gently tugging on her golden locks as you make eye contact. It’s so… trusting. So safe. You knew that she was likely going to ruin the shit out of you, but there was an underlying tenderness to it all.

You had been waiting for this for so long, and your dream was finally coming true.

She shuffles forward once more, eyes remaining connected with yours as her head leans closer to your pussy. She quickly looks down, making sure she is in the right position, before staring at you as she licks a big, long stripe up your folds, holding them open with her left hand.

A much louder moan is projected out of you, head hitting the headboard as your eyes roll to the back of your head. You try to focus on the way her tongue is perfectly circling around your clit, but your body is making it increasingly hard to do so.

The way her fingers were gliding along the inside of your walls, curling as they reached your g-spot, along with the way her mouth movements switched from kitten licks on your clit, to full on sucks, had your mouth letting out the most disgustingly loud sounds to ever grace it.

Your hips started to move, Robin not stopping you as they fucked themselves on her fingers, her mouth simply following the sporadic and scattered motions they were taking.

Your hand grips tighter in her hair, making sure to keep her in place, your body never wanting her to leave your pussy.

As Robin could feel your inner walls tightening around her fingers, she began to moan around your clit, the vibrations sending more signals to the ever-growing knot developing in your core.

“Robbie, Robbie. I-I’m getting close, God—”

She simply replies through more moans, head now shaking against your clit as her fingers targeted your g-spot, doing short, curled movements against your velvet walls.

“Robbie! Robbie! I’m gonna cum!”

And before long, the dam breaks. Your legs tighten around Robin’s head, her continuing her movements as she let you ride out your orgasm. Your eyes closed firmly, mouth hung open as strings of moans and whines left it, you just letting your body react in whatever way it needed to. Your vision had turned white regardless, the sheer power of your orgasm knocking the wind out of you.

When Robin feels you calming down, she pulls her fingers gently out of you, mouth detaching from your clit with a little ‘pop.’

She licks her lips, chin dripping in your juices as she comes up to softly kiss you, you tasting the familiar liquid on her tongue.

As she parts, she asks you, “How was that, my love?”

You cup her face weakly, your hands still slightly shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. “It was perfect, baby. Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome, pretty girl.”

You take a moment to rest, not wanting the situation to be over just yet. You wanted to pleasure Robin too. You couldn’t just let her watch you get off, then make her do all of the work. She was the one standing outside your room rubbing her pretty little clit to you after all. And personally… you wanted to play with that pretty little clit yourself.

“Robbie?” you ask softly, to which she replies with a quiet hum. “Can I take this off?”

You play with the hem of her t-shirt, to which she agrees, lifting her arms up so you can discard of the item. Leaning over to your side, you reach for the abandoned pillow, taking off the Blondie t-shirt and holding it in front of Robin.

“Could you wear this for me? Ever since I heard you two nights ago, all I could imagine was you fucking yourself in that t-shirt and all I wanna do is return the favour.”

Robin nods gently, “I’d be honoured, sweetheart.”

She lifts the t-shirt over her head, getting it comfortably situated on her body. All your fantasies were coming to life and it was perfect. You cup her face once again and give her another sweet kiss to the lips, taking in her cherry-flavoured lips and slowly lowing her so she is beneath you.

Careful not to make the situation too obvious and to protect yourselves from judgemental outsiders, you refrain from giving Robin any hickeys for tonight. That could be reserved for another private and intimate moment between the two of you, your brain desperately hoping there was gonna be one.

You press your lips to slight exposed skin at the bottom of her cropped Blondie t-shirt, lifting her boxers away from her mound, gripping her thighs and squeezing the plush skin, long fingernails digging in.

For that reason, you also refrained from fingering her tonight. You were no pro in doing it to someone else, and you were not risking giving Robin any cuts or potential infections from something that could be so easily avoided.

So, your mouth was about to be the star of the show. You lowered your attention to her vulva, hairs adorning her parts as you opened it with the pads of your fingers, careful not to hurt her. You slowly dived in, experimenting by focusing on her clit with a few kitten licks.

It was seriously that easy as Robin let out a moan and her thighs came to cage you in, your hands moving back to her fleshy thighs to keep them in place.

You experimented further, changing your actions from targeting firmly her clit, to licking from her hole, all the way up. You tried everything, seeing what made her twitch, jolt and whine the loudest, focusing on the elements that caused the most extreme reactions.

Robin’s grip on your hair was causing your face to be pushed more and more into her vulva, not that you were complaining, of course. But, when you looked up to see her right hand massaging her boob, you quickly realised you were missing the stars of the show.

You specifically asked her to put that t-shirt on, and you were actively ignoring it. How shameful of you.

You softly push her hand out the way, letting go of her thighs, not caring if they trapped you in anymore, so you could squeeze and fondle with her breasts. They felt perfect underneath the shirt, your thumbs flicking over her hardened nipples, a loud whine being let out from Robin.

“Baby, that feels so good, oh my God—”

You could feel her legs beginning to shake, so you followed her technique, shaking your head back and forth whilst sucking directly on her clit. You maintained eye contact with her, thumbs flicking over her nipples continuously whilst your other fingers delicately massaged the underneath of her breasts.

And that is what sent Robin over the edge. With a loud cry and announcement of “I’m cumming!” her thighs began to cage you in drastically. But, just like she did with you, you didn’t let up on her clit until you could sense her legs calming down and her breathing slowing.

However, something within you was telling you that you still weren’t satisfied. There was nothing wrong with what Robin did to you, nor what you did to her, but your body craved something else, something deeper.

It wanted to feel Robin against you.

“Robbie, I’m so sorry, but I need more. I need to feel you. I need to feel your skin on me. Properly.”

Robin was slightly unsure of what you were referring to at first. Your bodies had been pressed together many times already, but, with your body slowly rising and your leg hooking around her own, she completely understood what you were referring to, and she was not against it one bit.

Scissoring had always been one of your fantasies. You had envy for straight couples when you were first figuring out you were into girls as they had such an easy way to connect with each other fully, skin to skin, body part to body part.

But, when you picked up a lesbian porn VHS that one of your male gay friends got for you to hide both of your sexualities, you discovered the beauty of scissoring. And you had been wanting to experience it since.

And what better time than now. You look over your shoulder at Robin, just to get her confirmation that this was okay, which was signalled by an enthusiastic nod, her impatiently waiting for you to lower your mound over hers.

And soon enough, you did. The moan that immediately left both of your mouths in sync was so incredibly beautiful and sexy.

That immediate feeling of her juices mixing with yours was something you wanted to experience day in and day out. You thought being between her thighs was something you would want to spend an eternity doing, but this had just taken the top spot for you.

Robin’s legs were firmly planted on the bed, allowing for you to grip onto her knee and just underneath to steady yourself.

Not knowing exactly what to do, you alternated between rubbing back and forth, which felt incredible as it was, swirling your hips in a circular motion to try and locate her clit, and bouncing on her to hear the gorgeous sound of your joint wetness sticking together and coming unstuck.

At first, your bouncing allowed for Robin’s clit to slightly press into your hole, you letting out a variety of moans to signify the enjoyment of her entering you.

However, it’s the moment that you slow down, your body struggling a little from the rhythm, that your clits rub together. You both knew how perfect it was by your jaws dropping open, loud cries echoing across the apartment as you locked eyes.

Robin knew this was the pleasure she needed, so gripped your hips and began moving you against her in the correct motion.

You let her do all the work. You wanted her to feel the most pleasure she had ever felt in her life. Even though this was your fantasy, most of the enjoyable elements for you were the other person having fun. That was the one thing that always got you going in the pornos.

Both of your previous orgasms made you extremely sensitive to the movements of your hips, and as you felt Robin’s legs begin to shake, little grunts came out of her mouth as she rocked you harder and faster against her vulva.

You began pressing soft kisses to her knee, encouraging her with words of endearment and praise.

“That’s it, baby. Get yourself there for me. Wanna see you fall apart for me, pretty girl.”

Robin stared at you as she cried out, you taking over as you moved your hips faster than she could control herself. She simply squeezed the flesh of your waist, her hands signalling that she was getting closer and closer to falling off the edge.

“C-Close. So fucking close—”

You smiled in between the moans that escaped your sweet lips, “I know, baby. Can feel you twitching for me down here. You gonna cum for me? You gonna cum on my pussy?”

She nods, whimpering out, “Y-Yes, ah! Yes I am! Yes I am!”

Your hips are now struggling with the way she was replying to you, the knot in your stomach tightening for the second time tonight, fingernails scratching at the skin adorning her knee.

“Then let go for me, pretty girl. You got it.”

And with a loud cry, Robin lets go for you., the feeling of her juices leaking onto your pussy sending you spiralling right alongside her.

The both of you are moaning messes, legs shaking violently against each other as you ride out your highs in unison. Both of your names, along with a few expletives, fill the atmosphere, the smell of sex lingering in the four walls of your bedroom, dissipating to the living space of the apartment from where your door was still open when Robin had entered earlier.

As your orgasm comes to an end, you move your leg to the other side of Robin’s waist so that you can simply collapse onto her chest.

You look up at her with a sense of love and adoration in your eyes, giggling in your post-orgasm haze at the event that just occurred. “I think it’s safe to say that we’re both idiots.”

Robin takes a breath before replying, “Idiots? Yeah, most likely. But, I was debating for a little while longer after you, so it probably should’ve been me. Plus, you always talk about your friend Eric all the time, so I thought that you were into him or something—”

“Robs?” you interrupt her.

“Yeah?”

“Eric is gay.”

She purses her lips, trying not to laugh at herself, “Okay, that makes a lot more sense.”

You laugh along with her for a little while, before the atmosphere turns into a comfortable silence.

“So…” you let out, “I guess that means I should take you out on a date.”

“Really?” Robin lights up.

You look at her with a little confused expression as you laugh, “Yes, dummy. You think I wasn’t gonna take you out on a date after this?”

“Sorry!” she holds her hands up in surrender, “I’m used to girls at the lesbian bars around here fucking me and then never calling me back.”

“Ouch, that’s gotta suck,” you cringe, “Well, good for you, I can hear you through the walls, so if you ever need me, you don’t even need to leave your room.”

Robin blushes at that, her cheeks turning a rosy pink colour, before you turn the conversation back around, “Anyway, about the date. Where would you like to go, baby?”

Baby. That was something she would have to get used to on the regular.

“Um… There’s a new Italian place that’s opened up about ten minutes from here, we could try that? Plus, then I can impress you with my Italian language skills,” she wiggles her eyebrows.

And even though she was joking, it did turn you on just the slightest bit, “Italian sounds good. So… it’s a date?”

Robin looks down at you, her eyes glistening with warmth and affection, her mouth turning up in a wide curve, her teeth showing as she replies, “It’s a date.”

And with that, you had a date with the girl of your dreams. She was yours, and you were hers, and you were never going to let anything change that.

taglist: @robinsno1lesbian @agxxb @agenderrat

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x afab!reader #robin buckley x fem!afab!reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley smut #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fic #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley oneshot #robin buckley one shot #roommate!robin buckley #perv!robin buckley #stranger things #eds6ngel

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vanillaxoxocore · 9 months ago

Text

Fuck Away The Pain.

Pairing: Adam First man x f!reader

> ⸝⸝﹒WARNINGS ; Explicit Language, cursing, Porn with plot, Porn, rough sex, vaginal fingering, gaping, drunk sex, Adam while high, drinking, dry humping, jealous/aggressive sex, sexual tension, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, use of pet names, implied size kink, language, dirty talk, hair pulling, dom! Adam, overstimulation;

⊹ ⌣ ⌣ ୨୧ ⌣ ⌣ ⊹

໒ Ft. Adam HB ᶻz

౨ৎ ︵︵ I recently had a fight with my romantic interest. It began mildly, but as we both continued to add to it, it escalated into a furious exchange of shouts,

“for fuck’s sakes! Why do you always start shit like this when we’re together?”,

From the other room, you heard him yell at me. Even though i had planned to spend the rest of the evening at my boyfriend's apartment, i decided to pack up my things and go. His remarks were like a knife to the chest, and even though i weren't blinking, i could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks and my vision getting unfocused.

They simply would not go away. My breathing contracted and it hurt, a lump forming in my throat. I completed packing every item that belonged to me. I finished packing all my belongings. My boyfriend cussed me out something that wasn’t heard clear but just rang through my ears.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Opening the door, i turned my upper body and flipped him off before slamming the front door shut.

I felt anxious and uncomfortable on the awkward walk home. I could feel eyes on me even if nobody was out at this late hour. I started to wonder if I was really to blame for the disagreement, if I was the trigger for all of our arguments. I softly sighed and moved toward your house since I was ready for the whole night to be over.

౨ৎ ︵︵ After what seemed like an eternity, I started to up my home's stairs. Shaking, I reached into my purse to retrieve my house key, but my hand trembled and I couldn't fit it into the lock. I swore in exasperation— "isn’t this the fucking light of my night.”, as more tears streamed down my cheeks. I rattled the key entire for the first time, finally managing to steady my hands. Slamming the door open and sending the doorknob crashing into the wall.

I tend to get more frustrated even when I take off my shoes. I grumble and kick off my shoes, sending them flying into the wall. There was a soft thump, as I dropped my purse to the floor and started up the stairs.

I heard a faint noise a few steps up and thought— "Did I leave my TV on? — As I ascended the stairs further, I noticed a golden feather shining from the corner of the wall, which I knew right away. Was that Adam's? Dealing with him at this time was not the right time,

As I walked up to the flat floor, I saw Adam, man spread out on my couch, reclining back on the back cushions and loudly chewing on the hamburger in his hand. With his other arm propped up on the top of the couch, he seemed engrossed in something on the television.

As I made my way over to my coffee table, I noticed several large beverages and bags of fast food. Standing there for a few seconds, and as he noticed me, his eyes widened. He then stopped chewing for a while and began to slowly chew the food that was still in his mouth, swallowing it with a loud gulping sound. Before talking, he uses his robe to clean his mouth,

“Hey, babe! You look fucking rough. Did your boyfriend forget to put it in the right hole this time? — I squint my eyes and point to my front door while he snickers with closed eyes, i state: "Can you get the fuck out, Adam? I'm not in the mood for your nonsense right now — Adam instantly stops laughing at the remarks I made and gives me a round-eyed stare.

"Wowah there, babe," he says with a ear to ear smirk and round eyes — What's twitching your panties?”, He tries to remain composed and says, "You usually don't mind when I drop by like this. — He ends his statement with a brief smirk.

౨ৎ ︵︵ However, Adam was correct—I appear as though I was just mobbed by a bunch of people. My body was shivering, my hair had become tangled and striking out, and my eyes were a deep crimson. I also happened to be sweating. I say, "Adam, I can't deal with you right now," as my voice breaks and cracks and suddenly becomes higher pitched. My throat felt that lump tighten up again.

Adam leaned forward and seemed to get the notion before laughing a little, "Holy fuck! Did you and your boyfriend have another argument, bro? — he gets up from the couch, places his hamburger on the table, and picks up the large beverage that was next to it. He reclines back on the couch with a grin.

My head shook and my eyebrow twitched. "Ex-boyfriend now," I muttered, my voice like an imitating whisper. Adams was slurping his drink when I said this, and as he did, his eyelids loosened. Finishing my sentence, his eyes widened as he choked on the beverage. With a bewildered expression, he asks, "Wait what? Really? "You're not shitting me at all?" he asks, grinning, ear to ear.

Adam squinted one eye while keeping the other wide; the squinted eye's eyebrow furrowed as he cocked the other eyebrow high up. He stares at me with that shit eating expression on his face, i stood there not saying anything.

After becoming extremely anxious, I said, "Who does that fucker think he even is? He's simply looking for ways to put the blame on me, I promise! You know, I'm sure he's hitting on his new coworker buddy. Since she joined, he has been as new as paint! — I walk over to the couch, throwing my arms and complaining to Adam. I settle in while Adam crosses over to the opposite side of the couch.

I was irritated as Adam sat there as well as my leg was bouncing. I bury my face in my palms, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. Adam sat there awkwardly as I started to cry quietly. "Hey babe — he said, but I interrupted him by taking him by the collar and tugging him in close to my face. His eyes widened and his brows raised, his mouth forming a sideways "v" shape as he stared at me and blinked a few times.

"You don't think I started the breakup, do you?" — I question him, staring him squarely in the eyes as tears stream down my cheeks at his feeble shrug.

౨ৎ ︵︵ As he leans back, I release his collar and lean forward, pressing my forehead on his chest. I sat there attempting to calm down. "You know," he hums, giving me an awkward back pat. "I can help you find a distraction," Adam chirps. Adam adds, "Keep your mind off him, ya know?" with a nonchalant expression. I look up at him, my chin resting on his chest, my eyes misty and bewildered. He placed his hand on my thigh and started massaging it.

I curse at him, "Adam, this isn't the time for fucking jokes," as he leans back a bit and whistles, "calm down, sweetie. I'm only trying to comfort you.”

I sigh and lie back on the couch, saying, "Adam, find me another way to comfort." Despite appearing disheartened, Adam persists and says, "Sure thing, babe." He hums and, as the bags of food and drink vanished into the portal, he made of a circle with his index finger. Before I can even sit up, Adam shuts the portal and summons out something that flashes brightly in my sight. I observed stacks of full booze bottles and a gold bong fashioned like a wing. I wondered to myself, "Was this his way to comfort people and himself?" but I kept my mouth shut.

Reaching ahead, he picks up a brand-new bottle of whisky and effortlessly ruptures it open. I was amazed—alcohol in the afterlife? Color me surprised. He reclines backwards as he effortlessly downs the bottle, and then, with a burp, he pulls away from it after a few seconds. He frowns and cocks an eyebrow at me, asking, "What? Grab one. It's okay, babe — he adds, gesturing to the several bottles of alcohol.

With wide eyes, I ask him, "Give me yours," referring to his bottle. He stares at me, then down at the bottle he is holding. He shrugs and hands it to me. I look at it for a moment, then put the bottle excessively close to my lips and take a sip before opening my mouth wider and letting more fluid pass down my throat. The bitter taste makes me jolt a little as the scorching sensation moves down my throat. Adam smirks and laughs at me, saying, "Big chub there, babe!"

He leans back against the couch headboard, he lifts one leg up on the couch cushion as he man spread in front of me. He rests one arm on the top of the couch, lifting up his other hand and summons something that looks like a cigarette, it was golden color. When he sets a flame at the end of it, he takes a long drag before blowing out at me with a smirk, it starts to reek of weed.

My breathing hitches as I breathe in the smoke with a cough, waving my hand in front of my face clearing out the smoke.

I say, "Don't do that, Adam," and he sits up. He holds my chin and raises my head. When I turned to face him, he took another big take and blew at my face once more, shooting golden smoke that clouded my vision.Adam leans in to give me a gentle kiss as the smoke starts to dissipate. My gaze drops to our lips, and my eyes enlarge. Half of his hand rested on my jaw as he moved it from my chin to my cheek. He presses his lips more connected to mine and opens his mouth a little, all the while maintaining eye contact. He touches my lips with the tip of his tongue, and I accept the kiss.

I close my eyes and bend closer to share the kiss, extending my mouth wider to let more of his tongue enter as he slips it in. I put my hand on his thighs and moaned softly as he pulled away from the kiss, our tongues touching with a string of saliva. He gives me a sly smile and brings the end of the joint to his lips once again, inhaling yet holding the smoke inside. He moves in closer for another, starting to kiss me passionately. Our head moving in synch together as our tongues danced against each other, a sluggish sound coming out of our mouths.

as he blows the mouth within my mouth, golden smoke escaping from the corner of my lips — let me suck on your tits.” he says bluntly as he pulls away from the kiss, I shake my head.

“Adam, this feels so wrong. I just ended my relationship not long a— he cuts me off by putting his index finger over my lips, “I’m asking to suck on your tits, not put my dick in you”, not yet at least. “Know the difference, babe.”

౨ৎ ︵︵ Within a few seconds, Adam was able to get me undressed within seconds. It happened so fast but I couldn’t complain. He was amazing at everything, talking me through it, his fingers, his words, his touch. It made me need for him more, becoming more needy for his attention and touch.

He quickly took my boobs in his rough, heated hands. He kissed me, gripped them, and then put his mouth down. He delicately sucked on my nipple after flicking his tongue over it. I hiss and sigh gently when I feel his tiny bite on my breast. I close my eyes and throw back my head, letting out gasps.

He stops and goes to get a bottle of whisky. He starts by putting some on my chest and then begins to suck the juice from my breasts, leaving light hickeys on sections of my skin.

I sulk, putting my arms around Adam's neck and letting him lick my breasts some more. As he repeatedly sucks and pours whisky over my breasts, I gasp and moan in exhaustion as I feel his cock hardening against me. I brought him closer by putting my leg around his hips. He alternated between sucking and squeezing my boobs while I rocked my hips into him.

He hums, "Turn around and sit on my lap again, babe," and I nod as I get up from his lap, turn to face him, and then settle back down. He sets the partially used whisky bottle down next to him. He spreads my legs wide open, holding them high in the air while he exposes my cunt by sliding his hands under my knees. Before he lets go of my legs, my eyes dilate.

"Keep your legs like that," he says to me as he leans in and places his chin on my shoulder. He then starts to caress my thighs before placing a palm over my cunt. His index finger pressing across my clit and grazing my entrance.

He plays with my clit, Adam suddenly digs his fingers into my aching pussy causing me to let out a high pitched groan, begging for his touch for so long, it felt so amazing feeling a part of him inside me. Adam loves how simple it is to make fun of me in that way. How completely masterful he is over my enjoyment with a few simple strokes.

Just by his hands, the most common part of the body, they have the ability to elicit the sweetest groans from me as if they were nothing at all.

"Go ahead, baby, and cum all over my fingers — I'd like to feel you give them a firm and nice squeeze”, He keeps pumping his fingers in and out of me as I rock my hips into them, letting out gasps and groans. Adam had a way of leaving me dumbfounded and unable to speak.

Weakly, I felt a press against my lips as I looked down at the alcohol bottle in front of my mouth. "Drink, sweetheart. — Adam grins and keeps pumping his fingers. My eyes drift back, and I grudgingly open my mouth. Before the liquid started to seep into my mouth, I felt the glass's tip brush against my lips.

౨ৎ ︵︵ As the alcohol kept pouring into my mouth, I started to swallow it. The liquid was filling my mouth to overflowing, and drops started to drip down my chin and cheeks. I kept gulping it down, feeling a scorching sensation in my throat until Adam took the bottle away from me. My vision blurs and my tongue falls out; a thin string of saliva that tastes and smells like alcohol sticks to both my tongue and the top of the bottle.

I let out a few more grunts as waves of intense pleasure raced through my body and veins. I came up on his fingers, arching my upper body and tossing my head back. Drool trickles down my cheek and chin, causing a loud sound to escape my lips.

Adam holds my chin, causing me to turn my head to the side and stare at him. I feel his tongue go down my throat as he plants a long kiss on me, and I try to wrap mine around his as much as I can. He's licking his lower lip and savouring the last of the alcohol. I lower my legs as I feel them starting to cramp, panting heavily I let out a one last heavy pant.

He leans in close to ask, "How are you feeling right now, babe?" with a shit-eating smirk that made me want to punch him. All I could manage to slur was "mng-hfff," with Adams' finger still lodged in my cunt. With my fluids sticking to his fingers as it slowly descends, he removes his fingers from my swollen, used cunt — close enough to an answer”, he laughs.

Adam grabs me by the waist and places my back against the couch's headboard while spreading my legs and standing between them. He raises his robe and he removes everything from underneath, keeping on his boxers. Revealing his enormous bulge that his boxers were concealing. Adam gets closer, his thighs pressing into the backs of my thighs.

His cock sprung out as he pulled down his underwear, causing my eyes to expand and startle out of my intoxication, “fuck he has a dick piercing too? — I thought to myself as I stare at him with doll eyes. He uses the tips of his fingers to grasp his cockhead.

Adam smirked at my reaction, leaning down and grabbing her hand, placing it on his massive cock. "feel how thick it is? — he asked , "i know it looks big, but i promise, it's gonna feel amazing. you're gonna love it.", I nod slowly as I was rubbing around the tip piercing.

He purrs, "Turn around for me, baby," and you fumble to do so, your knees trembling as your body starts to shake. You turned around and pressed your top head against the headboard of the couch, your back to him.

He chimed, his hands wildly parting your ass cheeks to inspect your puckered hole. "Damn, you're hot like that. — ya know, i bet he can't fuck you the way I'm gonna right now." Adam said, smearing some of his spit on your cunt and dabbing some of it onto his cock, He then rubbed it generously on his cockhead, “Adam— i barely whimper out, turning your head over my shoulder, — I’m having second thoughts about this.”

"you're already here. might as well do it, yeah? — he smirks as he leans toward, his chest pressing against my back.

"so," he asked , "are you gonna take my dick or not? — I look forward once more, pausing to relive each moment. My eyebrows furrowed at the thought of my ex-boyfriend as my memories returned to him. I nodded weakly to Adam and leaned my forehead against the couch's headboard.

His shit-eating grin made my stomach turn around, and sank my teeth into my bottom lip to keep myself from wriggling. "That's my fucking woman," he rasped. I truly were excited, but it had always been difficult to accept his size. "Damn, then the bastard would definitely be upset, if he found out his ex-girlfriend has changed her mind for me," he cocked up to my tight hole with a smug expression on his face. — You know you've improved your taste?”,

Slowly pushing the head of his cock against her entrance. "relax," he murmured , "just relax and let me in."

pushing it deeper into my tight, stretched hole. I let out a strained moan, his pelvis squashed against mine. As he stretched me even further, reaching places i didn't even know existed or could be felt in.

adam groaned as he felt the tightness around his cock, pushing deeper inside me, his member stretching my puckered cunt hole wider than i thought possible. My walls had to gradually become accustomed to the intrusion as his cock began to split them apart. He let out a grunt, enjoying the sensation of my pussy squeezing his length as each second went by.

He reached down, grabbing my hips and pulling me closer to him, thrusting his hips in a slow and steady rhythm, his hips rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm.

"oh, fuck yes," he groaned out — you're so fucking tight”, i whimpered, arching my back in pleasure and an ounce of pain. Steady rhythm while keeping my eyes closed to concentrate on the sound of his cock sloping into my wetness. Adam picked up the pace even faster, his hips slamming against me in a brutal rhythm. His member slapped against my sensitive spots, sending waves of pleasure-pain coursing through my body.

"motherfucker," he groaned , "so fucking tight."

I was flat on your stomach, and he was pressing two big hands into the little hump of my back. "Want me to fuck away the pain, ya?" he asks, his accent lightening at the end of his statement. He copied the movements for the other while my hips naturally rise. Adam simply roughed me up and grabbed the area where my ass met my hips.

“Yes!” I nod, practically choking on my moans. My eyes squeeze shut, feeling the pressure into my stomach building as my body began to heat up. Completely lost in pleasure, my vision becoming blurry.

he pushed deeper than ever before, his entire length filling me completely. His member pulsed violently, shooting hot semen into my womb, filling me up to the brim, my eyes widen as I let out a moan, “H-Oh my fucking god Adam! — My voice was higher than he’d ever heard it.

he pushed deeper than ever before, his entire length filling her completely. His member pulsed violently, shooting hot semen into her womb, filling her up to the brim. He held himself there, savoring the feeling of being completely inside her, until his orgasm subsided.

Adam, whose cock was still pulsing inside me, smiled proudly at my response. He started to slowly and steadily move his hips once more. Adam's thighs struck the back of my thighs till he started to thrust his hips more rapidly. A loud slapping sound reverberated throughout the room, relishing in the noises of my pleasure mingled with anguish.

Each thrust sent another wave of pleasure coursing through her body, and he loved watching her struggle to cope with his immense size. “If you weren’t with that fuckhead, I would’ve fucked you on the first day. You were always so loyal to him like a fucking dog. — he grunts out

As Adam kept hammering into me, the thrusts caused my body to jerk. Adam groaned as he kept pushing into me when he heard a ringtone coming from my pants pockets. I shriek, "Adam, my phone is ringing! — as I feel his hand push down on the back of my head and tangle his fingers in my hair.

"Adam, my phone is ringing — He mocks at what I say and then pushes his cock deep inside of me. I scream and grab the headboard of the couch. “No shit Sherlock. I can hear the fucking ringing — he replies to me with an aggressive tone of voice. I reply back at to him with a loud groan.

"Ignore it," he moans, pushing his hips more deeply. "This feels too fucking good to stop," he complains loudly. I replied with a loud cry, "It's probably my ex-boyfriend," as Adam slowed down, he cursed under his breathe, "How the hell are you sure it's him?"

I said, "Custom ringtone," as drool started to trickle out of my mouth. "Custom ringtone?" he asks sarcastically, "You're full of shit — You're such a fucking sapp," as the phone rang for a what seems like a minute, it stopped ringing as I heard a notification ding.

He moaned, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "Take it all, bitch," he hissed, "take every single inch of me." He tilts his head back again and with his free hand, Adam reaches down to grab my phone from the pockets of my pants. Adam proceeded to unlock my phone's camera. When I hear the recording begin, I try to seize the phone from him, but he presses my head farther into the cushion.

Lost in pleasure and with his hips ramming me even more, I lowered my hand and let out dampened cries. All I could muster was high-pitched whimpers as the air was being knocked out.

I should and could have yelled as he thrust me till there was no more of his dick visible. He struck the same location roughly twice a second with no buildup, but I ran out of energy. Right then, he gave up speed in favour of power. I gave a senseless, sexual groan and came, pushing against him from within feeling him shoot his seed into my again.

His seed erupted out of me, it began to spill out down my thighs and trails down to his cock. With a moan, he thrusts his hips a couple more times to get the high out of his system. He pulls out of me as a thread of sperm connects his tip and spills across his pierced dick to my plump, red, used cunt just as the sound of the video ending. My body twitched and a yellow, shimmering seed was pouring out of my cunt.

> ,, ᎑᎑᎑ tags ; @k1prisunnx @bucketwater69

@censoredhysteria

#hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #adam smut #x reader #hazbin hotel #smut #female reader #cartoon #alcohol #sex and drugs #breakup #jealousy #possessive

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