#though they do become friends and hang out eventually! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherryite · 1 month ago

Text

i got you.

summary. after a near death experience on a mission, your relationship with your childhood best friend mark shifts unexpectedly

content. childhood bestfriend!reader x mark grayson, superpowered!reader, neighbor!reader, fem!reader, friends to lovers, everyone knows but them trope, hurt/comfort, happy ending, slow burn (if you squint), yearning, love confessions, mutual pining (word count. 9,6k)

warnings. MDNI!!, depictions of violence, blood and injuries, implied underage drinking, drunk harassment, vomiting/puking, eventual smut, breeding kink (again if you squint), unsafe sex

author's notes. hi pookies, so this is probably bad, i have not written in ages so please ignore anything that's ooc (probably everything lolol), i'm just having fun with writing right now and trying to get back into it! not super canon compliant either whoops

Life just couldn’t go your way. Not that being ‘blessed’ with super speed and teleportation abilities really helped with that, or being in college, or the fact that you got your ass kicked whenever you did a little bit of world saving. Bleeding out while staring up at the sky, clouds swirling above with the sounds of chaos around you was not how you wanted to leave this world. Your throat is tight, Your baby blue suit is the same color as the sky above as blood seeps out of a hole in your side. You fear not even your advanced healing will save you now as you cough blood, the warm liquid spattering over your face. Running out of your ‘power bars’ as you called them was the first sign things were about to go bad. Your extremely fast metabolism as a result of your powers is often also a hindrance, if you go too long without energy, without calories, they become much less effective; you run slower, and can’t teleport as fast or far. And you ran out. Because of course, you did.

Rubble digs into your back, normally it would be painful if it weren’t for the fact that you could barely feel your fingers. You spit up again, blood covering your chin and coating your lips with the metallic smelling liquid. Your eyes search the skies, looking for flashes of blue, yellow, and pink. ‘Mark and Eve won’t let me die’ you think, though you have no idea where they are. The comms in your ears barely register to you as sounds become muffled.

“Rex, where’s Breeze? She’s supposed to be with you.” Eve’s voice, she sounds upset as she speaks your hero name, though in your blurry mind, you can’t decide in what capacity. More words are spoken, and people are yelling; you cough again as you feel your body rapidly try to heal itself to no avail. You can hear Rex’s voice over the static explaining where he had seen you last. You can hear Mark, panic lacing his voice, as he says he’ll go look for you. You almost smile. Mark, Invincible, your friend since childhood. Whatever ghost of a smile is on your lips is gone as quickly as it came. ‘I can’t let Mark see me die, he can’t be the one to find me,’ your mind races, and bile rises in your throat, not blood this time. You are so caught up in your mind, oblivious to the passing of time, that you barely feel large hands cup at your face and neck; your name is being yelled repeatedly, distraught and panic stricken. Your vision is blurry as you focus on the sight above you. Mark’s arms slip under your body, your hair hangs limply beneath you, as he lifts you carefully, inspecting your brutalized body frantically.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s me, it's Mark,” he is doing a terrible job of hiding the fear in his voice as he speaks, trying to seem comforting but it doesn’t really help because his voice shakes. He props you up with one arm, his other hand using his suit to wipe the blood from your chin and mouth. A shot of pain runs along your spine, but you barely register or react, a small whimper of pain is the only noise you make. You feel pressure on your wound, his warm hands slick with your blood, the frayed parts of your suit tickle you as he moves it to the side to get a better look.

“I got you, I got you,” Mark says, his voice thick like he’s got something stuck in his throat, his bottom lip quivers slightly. You feel the urge to reach up and cradle his face to comfort him like you used to do as kids, but your arm feels like it weighs like a ton of bricks.

“You got me,” you say, your voice so weak you can barely register as it tumbles from your lips, accompanied by another cough of blood. It splatters against Mark’s face, and you see him flinching as the metallic liquid touches his exposed skin. He carefully picks you up, his touch as gentle as he can be while he trembles. He says something about getting you back to the med bay, that you’ll be fine, that you have to be. Wind rushes over your body, but it just feels like your floating, your unfocused eyes trained on Mark’s face. He’s talking to you but you can’t hear it. The brown eyes you love to stare into are covered by his goggles and you wish you could see them, just once more before you die. Your body doesn’t register as your head lulls to the side limply, all you see is dark.

Your eyes shoot open, harsh white light blinds you instantly. You feel crushingly sluggish, your body aches, and your head pounds harshly in your skull. The light eventually stops being so bright, your eyes adjust, taking in your surroundings. The bed you're occupying is definitely a hospital bed, you’ve visited Mark in ones that look like this plenty of times before. The room is familiar too. Your brain connects that you're certainly in the med bay, your brain also realizes you're alive. As you continue to survey the area, your eyes spot two figures. Eve is curled up in a chair in the right corner, her head resting on the wall. A fuzzy blanket that you swear is from your room is slung over her and her red hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail. Mark lays to the left, slumped forward in his own chair, his head resting on the side of the hospital bed. His black hair is messy like he's been running his hands through it repeatedly. His back is angled terribly as he rests, you cringe to yourself at the thought of sleeping like that. Starting to regain feeling in your limbs, you feel a pressure on your hand. Mark’s hand clutches your own as he sleeps, scabs covering his knuckles. Your heart clenches in your chest, it beats against your ribcage with such force you almost think it’ll crack the bones if it continues. A machine to your right starts beeping, and you feel sick enough that you're afraid you're going to puke. The machine beeping wakes Eve and Mark, You close your eyes and scrunch up your face, you can feel Mark squeeze your hand. You try to calm your breathing. You hear Eve say she’s going to go to talk to one of the doctors, slipping out of the room. You hate hospitals, you hate the med bay, you hate this.

When you finally reopen your eyes, they immediately connect with Mark’s brown ones. They’re staring at you like you’ve just hung the stars and defied the laws of death (which you basically had). A smile curls at your lips because he has the biggest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen and it makes your heart race.

“Hey you,” you manage out, your voice is hoarse and it cracks as you speak. Mark’s face has an unreadable expression on it, perhaps one of disbelief but more muted. Maybe it’s relief, you're not sure as his face scrunches slightly. His hand clutches yours tightly, his gaze never leaves your face.

“I thought you died,” he says weakly, shifting closer to you.

You scoff tiredly. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” He does not like that answer, even though you're trying to lighten the mood. His gaze doesn’t leave your face, he has light bags under his pretty brown eyes, making you frown. The idea of him not sleeping makes your stomach twist. There’s a beat of silence before his hand reaches out to cup your cheek, his fingers tenderly stroking your cheek. The air nearly leaves your lungs. Affection between them was normal, a common occurrence. It made sense with how long they had known each other. But this felt different, something was different.

You think of a fond memory of when they were younger, 6 and 7 respectively. Mark tripped and fell while chasing you around in your driveway, scraping his knees pretty badly. Your heart had dropped as you heard him plummet to the pavement with a ‘thud’. He cried as sobs racked his body, fat tears rolling down his sweet rosy cheeks. You had cradled him while he cried, resting his head on your tiny chest, stroking his hair as you spoke to him.

“I got you, Mark,” you had said, your voice tiny, sweet as candy as he absentmindedly twisted the end of one of your braids around his finger as he calmed down. Debbie had come over to check on the two of you not long after, taking him home to fix his knees up. Though not before he gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek, tears still visible on his face as he thanked you. Debbie hugged you as well and praised you for taking good care of Mark, a smile on her face. Even after they grew out of being bright faced babies, they stayed that way. Another memory that sticks with you is when they both had just entered 8th grade. Some boys had been teasing you at school, asking you out on dates for their own amusement. As they worked on homework at his house later that day, you were well aware you weren’t as chatty, not as energetic; not yourself in the slightest. Mark noticed, of course, his brows furrowed in concern at you as you worked diligently on your worksheet.

“Okay, what's up,” he had said eventually, catching you off guard. You shrugged, not looking up from your paper.

“Nothing's up, why,” you cringed inwardly to yourself, not being convincing in the slightest. Mark poked and prodded until he eventually got the truth out of you. The way his brown eyes softened as you had recounted the day as tears welled in your eyes, was forever ingrained in your mind. Eventually, it led to both of you laying on his bed, your hair sprawled out, covering your back as you cried into his chest. His hands carded through the silky strands, rubbing your back as you clung to him.

“Shhh, I got you,” he says, his words quiet, only for your ears. His chin rested on your head because he couldn’t stand to see you cry. Warm, salty tears soaked his shirt, your hands clinging to his sides. Eventually, both of you had fallen asleep, homework discarded and sown around the floor of Mark’s room. When your mom frantically knocked on the Grayson’s door, she and Debbie were not surprised to find them curled together in Mark’s bed. Your mom simply told Debbie to send you back over in the morning, a soft smile on her face. You could think of dozens of times when similar occurrences had happened: cuddling during movie night, comforting touches, running hands through each other's hair. Something was different. But what scared you even more was that you were starting to realize it wasn’t that different. Not as different as you had tricked yourself into believing for years.

His hand is still warm against your cheek and you have no idea how long you’ve been spiraling for. Your heart thumps painfully, as his thumb brushes against the fat of your cheek.

“You scared me,” Mark says, his voice falters and your eyes pool with tears because, albeit indirectly, you caused your best friend a great deal of pain. You start to sniffle, your face screwing up as you start to cry. You’ve barely even started to process that you almost died, gone forever, gone from the people you care so deeply for. Mark’s voice hits your ears as you close your eyes to start to bawl, gasping breaths leaving your lips as tears run down them into your mouth. He’s speaking but you're so focused on crying you can’t hear him, all you feel is him adjusting you in this stupid hospital bed and crawling in beside you. Strong arms pull you against his chest, and you bury your face in his neck, muttering against his skin, “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry Mark.” You can feel him tense slightly, your hot, wet breaths heaving against his skin. He all but coos as he drags his hands through your hair, admiring the way the light glistens off the strands. His voice crackles as he speaks.

“I got you. I’m not- I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here with- with me.”

The last part almost seems like he’s trying to comfort himself instead of you, his grip tightening on your shaking form. You feel him nuzzle his cheek to your forehead, his deep breathing puffing hot air against your ear. A shiver ran up your spine, suddenly glad your face was buried in his neck, glad he couldn’t see the way your cheeks flushed involuntarily. Surely it was just because you were having a nervous breakdown, nothing else. You stay like that for a while, his hands soothing down her back all while being careful of any lingering wounds. The sobs and tears start to lessen, soon you’re just sniffling as he cradles you with as much care as ever.

“Better?” Mark’s lips brush against your ear as he speaks, his voice has a deeper tone to it as he questions you; not totally out of the ordinary considering he was only recently roused from sleeping.

“Better,” you confirm, pulling your face from his neck, and wiping your eyes messily before Mark’s hand cups your cheek, gentle fingers brushing away any tears. You barely realize how close the both of you are, faces inches apart as your breaths intermingle due to proximity. Your eyes flutter open, looking up at him through your wet lashes.

“Thanks, Mark,” you say softly, your eyes unable to drag themselves from his own eyes. Your heart is in your throat, his thumb still absentmindedly brushing over your flushed skin.

“Any-Anytime,” he mumbles back, his breath hitching as he speaks, the sudden tension in the room laying over them like a weighted blanket. His eyes flicker down to your lips for a fleeting second, you would probably not have even noticed it if his face wasn’t so close. You barely register as his face inches closer, the hand that rests on your cheek trembles with adrenaline. You suck in a shaking breath. No way, no way this is happening right now. Maybe you really did die and this is what the afterlife is like. The door opening startles you so badly that you nearly smack your forehead into his as you both scamper apart, both your faces red and your lungs breathless. Eve stands half awkwardly, half coyly at the door, over her shoulders are the doctors she said she was going to get when she left earlier.

“Uh, I got the doctors,” she says, biting her lip. You aren’t sure if she's trying to keep from laughing or out of sheer embarrassment about what she just walked in on. Mark slides out of the hospital bed, the loss of his warmth makes your heart sink. Doctors file in, Mark walks to the door by Eve to leave as the doctors work. His eyes find yours before they shut the door, leaving your heart racing in your chest and your mind muddled with thoughts of ‘what the hell just happened’.

Recovery thankfully comes easy due to your powers, but you definitely sense a different vibe whenever your deployed for a mission. You’ve kept pretty much off field for any mission deemed more dangerous than normal. Ultimately it’s more of a blessing than a curse, it gives you more time to do schoolwork, more free time. However, this unfortunately means less Mark time as well. It still stings a bit when the rest of the team departs for a mission, leaving you behind. Things have been more or less ‘normal’ between both of you since the confusing encounter in your hospital bed, almost as if it didn’t happen at all. He’s still sweet, awkward Mark, but sometimes he smiles and your stomach flips more than normal. Last week, Mark had chattered on and on about the new Seance Dog installment, his voice on speaker, blaring from your phone as you did your nightly skincare routine. You laughed to yourself at his excitement, you could almost hear the pout in his voice as he spoke.

“Why are you laughing? I’m giving you a very in depth plot recap right now! Pay attention.” Mark’s voice has an air of humor to it, causing you to giggle to yourself.

“I am paying attention, you’re just cute when you ramble,” you say nonchalantly, not even realizing you slip up until your brain catches up with your mouth. Mark’s silent aside for the faint rustling of his bedsheets, almost like he just sat up in bed. Before he can respond, your mouth opens again, “Ah well! I gotta shower, talk to you tomorrow yeah?”

He barely gets out a strangled ‘okay’ before you hang up the call and run your hands down your face in pure misery and embarrassment.

Aside from your internal conflict, Eve has decided it’s time to let loose for once this Saturday, go out, and have fun like normal young adults. You find yourself desperately needing a distraction from the mess in your mind in regards to Mark, so when Rex suggests they go to a bar (he says he ‘knows a guy’ who bounces there so it will be no problem to get in), you are arguably the most excited to go.

Saturday comes without a hitch and before you know it, you and Eve are stumbling down the sidewalk to the bar, giggling your heads off, clinging to each other as you walk in the cool night air. Rex, Mark, William, and Rae trail not far behind. Rex is already drunk off his ass from the pregame, clinging to Rae as they walk.

“They are soooo not gonna let you in if you don’t lock in immediately,” William calls out to the girls in front of them from beside Mark, who is the ‘sober sister’ for the night as William dubbed him, but Mark is barely paying attention. His brown eyes are fixated on you skipping arm in arm with Eve around 5 meters ahead of him, squealing with excitement as the group nears the bar. He swears he almost died when you and Eve showed up to the pregame because your outfit tonight was, to put it frankly, hot as fuck. Oversized black leather jacket to protect your frame from the night air, heeled black boots that reached your mid calf, tight black mini skirt, and a strapless dark red top; he could have died right then and there. Mark was so accustomed to your normal attire, sweatpants when they hung out, even your skin tight suit you wore when they were on missions, but this was a whole new beast. He knows this outfit is going to haunt his dreams for weeks to come. William elbows him in the ribs, hard, and Mark yelps at the sudden contact while turning his head to glare at his friend.

“Dude, what was that for?” Mark whines as they near the bar, getting in line to be let in with the rest of the group. William just rolls his eyes, a satisfied look on his face.

“If you keep staring I think she’s gonna explode or something, control your dick Mark,” William says slyly, Mark’s hand immediately covering his mouth to prevent others from hearing his friend's words. He hears Rae and Rex snicker to themselves ahead of them in line and he feels the heat rush to his face.

“William!” he grits out, his face nearly the color of the top your wearing, “Knock it off.”

William licks his hand, causing Mark to recoil with disgust, glaring at him as the sounds of Rex chatting with his bouncer friend drifts through the air.

“I’ll stop when you grow some balls. It’s getting pathetic, I can’t lie.” Before Mark can even respond, Rex is waving their group into the bar. You turn from your spot beside Eve, looking back to Mark and William. Your smile is bright, your cheeks are flushed from the shots you did before they left for the bar. Mark thinks he’s dreaming, you grab his arm, tugging at it.

“Come on slowpokes!” you say in a singsong voice. A strand of your hair is stuck in your lip gloss and Mark has to actively restrain his hand from brushing his thumb against your lip to clear it. He scolds himself in his mind as you drag him into the bar, over to join the rest of their group as William follows behind you both. Things have been different lately, ever since you nearly died on the last mission you were on: your touches linger more than they used to, his breath catches more than normal when you text him, and his heart races when you smile at him. Not that any of this was super new, but for as long as Mark can remember he’s felt similar sensations when interacting with his best friend, his pretty neighbor. But these sensations, these feelings, were more intense and growing by the day. Mark used to be able to brush off the butterflies in his stomach when you would call his name, when you would pull him into an earth shattering hug after a mission, when they would cuddle during their weekly movie nights; it wasn’t as easy to ignore anymore, it invaded his thoughts for much longer than it used to. Liking her wasn’t new for him, but whatever this was, definitely was.

They all reach the bar, two rounds of shots later, everyone, save Mark, is significantly intoxicated, their drunk minds blabbering about whatever pops into their minds. Tonight is karaoke night at the bar, four drunk guys are currently doing an awful rendition of ‘You Belong With Me’ by Taylor Swift which has Rex and Rae singing along drunkenly. You are tucked into his side, practically leaning on him for support as you argue with William about what the funniest Tiktok brain rot is. His arm is wrapped around your back, his hand rests on your shoulder, a safety measure to make sure you don’t fall. Or that's what he tells himself at least. Mark hopes you can’t feel how fast his heart beats against his ribcage, your shoulder leaning on his chest as your head tilts back, giggling drunkenly as you hear William say some joke that is definitely not funny to any sober person. In the dark lights of the bar, he really hopes no one can see his deeply flushed face or the way he cannot tear his eyes from you. It’s totally not because he can see down your top right now from this angle or that your soft hair is tickling his neck when you move. Or that the smell of perfume clinging to your skin makes him want to bury his nose into your neck and never leave. His grip on your shoulder tightens, deciding he should actually contribute to the conversation, just before Eve pushes her way through the crowd. She dashes towards you, a drunk smile on her face as she puts her hands on the speedster’s shoulders to steady herself.

“We’re up next in karaoke! Prepare your vocal cords!” Eve says excitedly, dragging you away towards the front, “Sorry boys! I’m stealing her for a bit!” The two of you disappear into the crowd before Mark can even utter a goodbye, he barely catches sight of you as you turn your head over your shoulder, catching his eyes before Eve pulls you away. He stares at the spot you just disappeared from, William wags his eyebrows at him suggestively.

“You are down so tremendously it shocks me you haven’t melted into a puddle yet,” William quips, Rex and Rae, coming over to join them as you and Eve crawl onto the small stage at the front of the dance floor, picking out a song with the DJ. Mark doesn’t say anything, he just rolls his eyes in response, a small smile still curling at his lips. Rae and Rex start singing ‘Two dorks sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G’ as they make kissy faces at each other and Mark once again is thankful for the partial darkness of the bar.

Music starts and you and Eve start your karaoke session, passionately singing ‘Juno’ by Sabrina Carpenter, dancing around the stage goofily. Mark desperately tries to ignore that the lyrics are raunchy as all hell, which proves difficult because he’s fully engaged in the words leaving your mouth. Trying not to imagine you two doing the lyrics in real life is an even harder challenge.

He especially tries to ignore the way heat runs through his body when you both sing ‘wanna try out some freaky positions?’ Eve pushes on your upper back, pushing you down from behind, bending you over at an acute angle as you both drunkenly giggle out the next line of the song ‘have you ever tried this one?’ Mark nearly combusts when he makes eye contact with you, and you smile at him before standing fully upright and continuing to drunkenly sing with Eve. William is giggling beside him because Mark has been staring unwaveringly at you nearly the whole time, practically drooling at the sight.

“Oh, he wants that cookie baddddd,” William says, his speech slightly slurred as Rex nearly dies of laughter beside him, as the music dies down and hoards of drunk people whoop and holler. You and Eve jump down from the stage as the DJ says they’re taking a quick break from karaoke and ‘No Hands’ blasts out of the speakers. Both of you disappear from view into the sea of people but Mark swears he sees the smile you flashed at him when he blinks.

On the dance floor post karaoke session, you and Eve giggle with each other, completely oblivious to the world around you two. Sweaty, drunk people cage you both close to each other, separating you both from the rest of the group who have set up camp at the edge of the dance floor near the bar. Rae is forcing Rex to drink water, but you can faintly hear him protesting. Eve’s lips brush against your ear so you can hear her over the blasting music.

“He wants you, bad, like bad, did you even see how he was looking at you!” Her words cause you to flush, leaning in to respond.

“Mark always looks at me like that,” you yell in Eve’s ear. The redhead rolls her eyes playfully, her hands gripping your shoulders to keep you close.

“That’s the point!” Eve starts her voice giddy, but before Eve can finish, you feel a tap on your shoulder, your heart racing as you turn. Unfortunately, it’s not Mark, who you were hoping it would be, and your smile falters a bit as you stare up at the tall man next to them. Eve glances over your shoulder to get a good look. He’s probably mid 20’s, his eyes droop drunkenly, and his voice slurs as he speaks.

“You ladies looked good up there, real captivating performance.” Eve pops her head out from behind you, eyeing him up and down.

“Uh thanks,” Eve responds civilly, smiling cautiously at this random drunk man. The guy drunkenly leans in closer, his lips curling up wolfishly. You, even in your drunk haze, can smell the alcohol on his breath as his next words wash over them.

“It was super sexy, I totally would wanna see you guys do that pose again in my bedroom later.” Eve stiffens behind you, and the hands she has on your shoulders tighten. You use your hand to push the redhead behind you more, out of sight of the man in front of them. Suddenly you feel painfully sober as you digest his words.

“Hah, sorry no, we aren’t interested,” you try to brush him off, your stomach churns as he steps closer, and Eve’s hands grip your shoulders.

“Oh come on ladies, ya’ gotta unwind a little, pretty girls like you shouldn’t be going home alone tonight,” he reaches forward, brushing a strand of your hair from your face. You flinch as his sweaty fingertips touch your face, your eyes wide with shock. Your eyes flicker around but you see no easy exit in the crowd of drunk people.

“Hey, she said no dickhead,” Eve pipes up behind you, her voice forceful, “We aren’t interested, did you hear her the first time?”

“Oh, feisty, I like it,” he slurs, his eyes focusing on Eve behind you. His grimy hand reaches back to try and touch her too, but before he can, your hand makes contact with his face, hard. The creep stumbles a bit, shocked at the sudden assault, people around turn to watch through the crowd, absentmindedly dancing still.

“I said, we aren’t interested,” you say, gritting your teeth as your eyebrows pinch together angrily, your hand is gripping Eve’s now who’s trying to drag you both away as the crowd disperses a bit, creating an exit, “Don’t touch me or my friend again freak!” Eve drags you away from the drunk guy, spying your friends in the crowd, who have started to see the commotion with wide eyes as they move toward the two of you to back you both up. You and Eve turn your backs to him. You immediately make eye contact with Mark, whose eyes are trained on you, his face pinched together with concern as he quickly makes his way over to you. Your heart clenches in your chest at the sight as he nears you both.

But before you and Eve can get too far, the creep yells out after you, clutching his face, his eyes piercing as he watches Mark advance toward you.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be such a fucking bitch if you got laid once in a while, tell your stupid boyfriend I feel sorry for him!” You see red as the words leave his mouth, whipping around in Eve’s hold as Rae abandons Rex, passing his drunk body to William so she can help hold you back. In their hold, you point a finger at him, and your voice shakes with anger.

“Talk to me or my friends like that again and I’ll do much worse than smacking you!” you shout out completely fueled by adrenaline at this point, as you’re pulled back to the group. You watch as the dude just laughs, disappearing back into the crowd. Your breathing is heavy as the adrenaline wears off, Eve and Rae release their hold on you to give you some space. Your stomach feels queasy.

“I’m gonna puke,” you manage out, walking hastily towards the exit of the bar. You hear Mark call after you, his voice dripping with concern as his footsteps follow after you. You hear William gag, “Oh good god she’s gonna blow chunks all over him.”

The chilly night air immediately hits you, your heels clicking against the pavement as you duck around the corner into an alleyway. You bend over, effectively throwing up nearly all the alcohol you had just consumed. There’s a presence behind you and you immediately know it’s Mark, you don’t even have to look up. Continuing to throw up, you feel his hands gently brush the hair from your face, pulling it out of the way so you don’t get puke in your hair. You continue to gag, Mark’s free hand rubs small circles on your back as comfort. Eventually, your stomach stops contracting, your eyes are watery from puking your guts out. Blearily, you turn your head to look at the man beside you.

“Sorry you had to see that,” you mumble to yourself, you hear Mark huff quietly.

“It’s no problem, there was no way I was going to let you puke in this sketchy alley all alone,” Mark’s voice is soft with a hint of jest as he soothes his large palms down your arms in comfort. You both stay like that for a beat, before you lean forward, your head resting on his chest. He instinctively wraps his arms around you as you lean on him, his heart pounds against his rib cage.

“I didn’t like how that guy talked to you, I didn’t mean to go all crazy on him,” you mumble against his chest. You do not bring up that he referred to Mark as your boyfriend, but that is hardly relevant right now.

“Seems like he deserved to get put in his place way before that,” he remarks, his hands clutching onto the back of your jacket, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Yeah, he was being all weird to me and Eve, gross and touchy,” you trail off as you feel Mark stiffen slightly.

“Hey, hey, did he touch either of you? Did he touch you?” Mark pulls you from his chest to look at you, his eyes big, worried. The tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine, it’s soft but still demanding, persistent. You shake your head.

“No, not like that thankfully, I’m okay,” you assure him, your hand cupping his jaw as you look up at him, your eyes still wet from earlier. He nearly melts into your touch as he nods at your words, his cheek chasing the warmth your palm brings. The air nearly crackles with intensity, every touch of his skin sends sparks through your body. With your heart blaring in your ears, he nervously bites the inside of his cheek, his brown eyes still staring down at you, a mix of something you cannot place swirling in his irises.

“Can I, uh, can I ask you something?” His tone is hesitant, quiet, his throat bobs as he speaks. You feel like all the air has been sucked from your lungs, you feel like your heart is going to burst.

“Anything,” you breathe out, your eyes searching his face as you wait for him to speak. No way this is happening right now, in a random alley, where you just vomited profusely. Mark’s mouth opens slightly like he's about to speak, when your ears pick up on the sound of their friends, Rex is ranting about something and Rae is telling him to shut up. Mark seems to hear it too, his eyes flickering over to the sound. He squeezes you, reluctantly pulling away and you feel your heart drop instantly.

“Uh, are we still on for movie night tomorrow?” He says, his voice tinged with anxiety, bringing a hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. You blink at him, nodding silently as William turns the corner.

“Hey, vomit comet, we’re leaving, get the nerd and hurry up,” he calls out, pulling you from your Mark centric haze. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold chill of the night settling in your bones. Neither of you two say anything as you meander back to your friends. Eve pulls you into a hug, slinging her arm over your shoulder as you walk back towards the car with the others trailing behind, similarly to how the night started.

The drive back home is torture. Mark drives since he’s the only one not stumbling drunk out of all of you. You try to sleep through the ride, but your brain buzzes with jumbled thoughts. Mark’s eyes keep flickering back to look at you in the rear view mirror and you accidentally make awkward eye contact two or three times. Your place is one of the later drop offs and your eyes droop with a mix of drunkenness and sleepiness. You slip out of the car, bidding goodbyes to Mark and William, the only people left in the car. While unlocking the door to your home, you toss a glance over your shoulder, meeting Mark’s eyes through the car window before slinking inside, hoping sleep comes to you quickly.

The Sunday scaries hit you hard when you wake up in the morning. You groan into your pillow as your head throbs painfully, your hands immediately fumbling around your bedside table to locate some painkillers. Popping two of them in your mouth, you suck down the water in your water bottle like you haven’t drank in days. Remembering the previous night's events makes your whole body shiver with anxiety. After rotting in bed for half the day, you finally open your phone to see tons of notifications. Two are from William, he's asking if you’re alive and also if you’re as violently hungover as he is, Eve messaged you once to make sure you slept okay, and your breath hitches to see you have three messages from Mark. You swipe into the messaging app, clicking on Mark’s contact.

mark!!: remember to take an advil in the morning

mark!!: also remember to eat something please

mark!!: also also, movie night @ 7 tonight? your place?

Your heart stutters in your chest. Nothing out of the ordinary, this is typical Mark behavior, but something about it sends your heart soaring. A response is quickly typed up and sent, agreeing to the time and promising to take care of yourself today. He responds almost immediately.

mark!!: okay, excited to see you tonight :)

You simply heart the message before tossing your phone away and falling face first onto the soft pillows of your bed. A giddy scream rips from your throat, muffled by the pillow. After a moment of spiraling, you flip over, staring at your ceiling, an array of glow in the dark stars stare back, dim in the early afternoon light. The way your heart speeds up, the way you can’t get the smile off your face, makes reality come crashing down on you. You are deeply in love with your best friend and it scares you. Hangxiety takes hold of your body, your gut squeezes nervously, the air in your lungs feels thick, and your blood rushes through your veins. This revelation endangers what you hold most dear; the relationship with Mark that you’ve been cultivating for a bit more than a decade.

You spend the rest of the day stuck in your own head. Nothing helps calm the storm raging in your mind. The homework you planned to do sits abandoned, books are picked up just to be sat right back down when you cannot focus on a single page of words. Time passes slowly as you spend most of the rest of the afternoon too stressed to do anything before Mark is supposed to be there at seven.

It’s five minutes to seven when you hear your window slide open. You thankfully powered through your anxious mind to change into pajamas, opting for an oversized t-shirt and a pair of soft sleep shorts. You tear your gaze from your phone, watching Mark climb through the window, a borderline nervous smile on his face as he waves at you a bit. Your eyes rake over him from head to toe. He’s wearing a pair of simple blue pajama pants and a t-shirt William got him for his birthday last year that reads ‘I <3 HOT NERDS’.

“You’re early,” you say, glancing at your phone clock, “when are you ever early to anything?” The tease in your voice drips from your words, Mark rolls his eyes and plops down beside you on your bed. His eyes shine in the lowlight of your room, only the soft glow of string lights illuminating its walls, and it makes your breath hitch.

“I’d never be late to movie night,” he answers, staring up at you from where he lays on your bed. You raise an eyebrow at him, your face says it all. Mark runs his hands down his face, a tinge of embarrassment in his tone.

“Okay, maybe once or twice, but I was saving the planet,” he says, whining because you’ve already started to poke fun at him. You flick his ear, earning a small ‘hey!’ from Mark as you grab your laptop from the floor beside your bed, he writhes in ‘pain’, continuing to bemoan over how mean you’re being.

“Get up dork we have a movie to watch,” you hum, pulling up a streaming service while Mark crawls up to you and rests his back against the headboard beside you. Heat radiates from how close he is, your shoulders brushing as he peers over your shoulder at the laptop screen. A shiver of delight runs down your spine as his breath wafts over your neck.

“What are we watching?” he asks curiously, as you set the laptop down in front of you both. Pulling a throw blanket over both your bodies, he scoots closer, fully invading your space now.

“Hercules,” you answer, the title credits for the movie starting. Mark just hums in agreement, snuggling up in the blanket with you. His arm tentatively slides over your shoulders, drawing you further into his orbit.

“Good pick,” he says, his voice sending another spark down your spine. The way his voice gets raspy when he’s tired has your heart pounding in your chest, which has you praying that even with his super hearing he doesn’t notice. You curl closer hoping the movie will help distract you from the yearning feeling that settles in your lower stomach.

It does not help. You find yourself hyper aware of every movement he makes. The flex of his bicep behind you against your shoulder blades when he squeezes your shoulder. The way his chest vibrates as he hums along to the songs in the movie. The way you can feel his abs pressing against you. Just him. That distracts you. The both of you are practically entangled by a little more than three quarters of the way through the movie. Your right leg rests crossed over his right one, occasionally feeling this thigh muscle twitch underneath you. Your head rests on his chest, eyes glued to the movie, curled into his side.

Though, if you had looked up at his face, you would find a borderline terrified look taking over Mark’s expression. His face feels red hot, the blood coursing through his body flushing his skin. He can’t focus either, your body curled into him, back arching slightly and your leg entangled with his. The smell of your shampoo in your hair is nearly intoxicating. Mark feels dizzy because this feels very different from previous cuddle sessions. Sometimes you shift, basically bumping your crotch against his hip and he starts begging to whoever's listening to keep him from popping a boner. That does not work in the slightest. Mark is barely paying any attention to the movie, his mind frantically trying to figure out a game plan on how to deal with his unwanted friend. He groans involuntarily, his eyes wide as he realizes the sound that just erupted from him. The hand on your shoulder squeezes. You catch the sound that comes from him, tilting your head up to try and get a look at him.

“You good?” you question, adjusting again to try and position yourself in his hold better. Your blood damn near runs cold as he whimpers, turning his head away from you, but you can see the heat creeping up his neck.

“Yeah, yeah I’m, totally good,” he murmurs, his voice pitching as you place a hand on his chest to prop herself up better, your hips sliding against his thigh. Mark intakes a sharp breath, his free hand flying to your hip as he says your name in a pleading voice. You freeze, your heart in your throat at the feeling of his large hand gripping your hip bone.

“Please, stop… moving,” Mark says, his voice breathy, his pupils blown wide. Your brain catches up quickly as your eyes widen, positively mortified because now you can feel his hard on against your thigh from your new position. Still, you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

“Oh fuck, Mark I didn’t even realize,” you start to apologize, you’re voice panicked. Because what if he hated you now? What if you’d made him uncomfortable and now a lifelong friendship was ruined over Mark getting a boner and your newly realized crush on him. Mark runs his tongue over his lips a deep, shaky exhale leaving his parted lips. You want to reach up and crash your lips against his, but you don’t.

“This is so not how I wanted this to go,” he mutters to himself in solemn disappointment, his hand absentmindedly gripping your hip. You just stare at him dumbly, your brain lagging again. His eyes finally drift down to yours, his throat bobbing because he can’t believe what he’s about to do.

“Can I kiss you?” he says softly, a nervous tremble coating his words, your faces are only inches apart, just like they were in the hospital bed about a month ago. A shaky ‘yes’ barely passes your lips before his hand on your shoulder slides to cup the back of your neck. He pulls you into him, his lips pressing against yours and your eyes flutter shut from bliss. Both of you shake, your movements hesitant as you part your lips, deepening the kiss. His hand grips your hip, tugging you swiftly into his lap as his lips move languidly against your own, a gasping breath escaping you as you feel his hard length beneath you. With a swipe to his bottom lip, he eagerly lets you slip your tongue into his mouth, sliding it against his own, drawing a blissful whine from him. Oxygen deprived and anxiety running high, you reluctantly part your lips from his. Both of you pant heavily, a thin trail of spit connecting both of your puffy lips, your breaths wavering with adrenaline and desire.

“How was that?” you question quietly, nervousness pooling in your eyes. The sight of him alone could make you faint: his muscular chest rising and falling as to catch his breath, his lips kiss bitten and red, just like his face is heavily flushed. His eyes swim with affection, gazing up at you like you’re a figment of his imagination and could vanish from his hold any second.

“Better than I ever imagined,” Mark breathes out, his eyes raking over your face, the corners of his lips quirking upward. Your face mirrors his, your shaky hands cupping his jawline, taking in the warmth his body provides. He speaks again, “I’m not dreaming right? I won’t wake up in a few minutes to find out I imagined it all?”

You suck in a breath, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips, your fingers caressing his jawline. You barely pull away, breath fanning over his lips.

“I’m very real Mark,” it comes out a desperate whisper, your voice sweet music to his ears as his fingers dig into the meat of your hips. His gaze is hypnotizing as he practically ogles you.

“I never- I never thought,” he trails off, at a loss for words. You could care less about talking right now, talking could come after. Pressing your lips back to his, murmuring against his lips, “Mark, shut up and kiss me again.” And oh boy does he kiss you. His lips move urgently against yours, devouring your lips into a passionate kiss, like he’s a man starved and you are the only thing he needs to keep living. His long fingers toy with the waistband of your pajama shorts, leaving your core tightening in anticipation by just his soft lingering touches. The kiss is fueled with want, both of you completely losing yourselves to each other as Mark’s lithe fingers slide up your thigh. In between kisses, he barely manages out, “can I touch you, please.” You don’t even respond, just nodding your head hurriedly, lifting your hips off his as he slides your shorts off. He’s trembling like a leaf when his fingers brush against the wet crotch of your underwear and he literally feels like he’s going to die as he moans into the kiss you two are still entangled in. Warm fingers pull your panties aside, his long fingers sliding against your slick folds. You whimper at his touch, restraining yourself from grinding down on his fingers as he traces soft figure eights against you. The kiss breaks as you both catch your breath, his forehead rests against yours as he continues to massage his fingers against you. Mark makes eye contact with you, his mouth hanging open as he rubs your clit with his thumb. The feeling of your legs trembling draws a whiney moan from his lips.

“You feel so warm,” he mutters, tentatively angling his hand so he can slide a finger into your velvety walls and your head falls to his shoulder at the sensation. Involuntarily, your hips grind down against his hand, you moan into the skin of his neck, starting to kiss messily at the skin there.

“More please,” you beg against his neck, your lips pressing heavy kisses as he slides his middle finger in to join his pointer finger, curling them against the spongy walls. His dick pulses painfully as he pulls breathless moans from your lips, the sound making his head spin and he has to bite his lips from moaning too. While pressing kisses to his skin, your hand reaches down to cup the bulge in his pants, causing his fingers to falter their pumping movements as he whimpers at the contact.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, his hips jutting upward to chase your touch. You pull your head from his neck, facing him again. Mark is enthralled by your beauty right now and it’s not because your pussy is clenching around his fingers as he curls them again. The hair on your head is ruffled, your lips rosy and full from kissing, your eyes blown wide with lust and a deep unmistakable affection. He sucks in a breath.

“Feels so good,” you babble, a breathy whine as you talk, “I- I need you, please Mark,”

His senses are on overdrive, his free hand reaching up to card his hand through your hair, his other hand still pumping his fingers into your squelching wet hole.

“Are- are you sure?” He questions, nervously bringing his brown eyes to yours. You almost laugh if he wasn’t assaulting your pussy with his fingers right now.

“Mark, if you don’t fuck me, like, right now,” you start, but don’t finish because Mark’s mouth is on yours instantly. Your body is flipped onto your back, thighs instinctually clamping around his hips. His fingers pull out of you and you whine at the loss of contact. Mark tosses his shirt over his head, tugging at yours and pulling it off. Both of you quickly shed the rest of your clothes, completely bare to each other. You suddenly feel nervous, which is silly because he was literally just finger fucking you not even a minute ago. But the sight of his dick makes your head spin because there is probably a zero percent chance that monster is going to fit in you. Mark’s broad chest rises and falls as he surveys your body, sliding his way back on top of you, his hips falling between your hips, his chest pressed against yours. Comforting fingers brush some strands from your face, and Mark looks star struck again, his brown eyes shining in the lowlight.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice is soft but you can hear the slight shake in it. You drag your hands through his dark hair and he nearly purrs in pleasure.

“You’re prettier,” you respond, your stomach swirls with desire, the slick between your legs hitting the cool exposed air. He huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to the column of your shoulder, mumbling against your heated skin, “Not possible.”

His tip nudges your slick folds and you both moan at the contact, his leaking tip catching as he lines up, pushing his hips forward to notch the tip of his cock into your warm pussy. Pulling his face from your neck, he connects your foreheads again, gently using one of his hands to lift your leg, hooking it over his broad shoulder.

“I got you,” he whispers comfortingly as you withe beneath him at the sensation of his thick cock starting to breach your sopping wet hole. Mark’s voice shakes with adrenaline, his jaw dropping with a small whine as he pushes through your gummy walls.

“You got me,” you respond, warmth blooming in your chest, the stretch of his cock in you making you dizzy with arousal. His movements remain slow, finally bottoming out with a breathy moan which causes your back to arch. His eyes almost appear fair away as they stare into yours, already drunk and consumed by the feel of you. The hand he stationed on your waist squeezes the fat of your hip, allowing you to adjust to him. The full feeling of the stretch of his cock buried deep within you, it makes your chest heave as you grip his bicep with your hand.

“You feel so good,” you breath out, gripping his bicep tightly and your eyes roll back as his hips twitch reflexively. Mark whimpers at your words, slowly grinding his hips against yours, his public bone rubbing against your clit. Your walls clench and he closes his eyes in pleasure, his dick twitching inside of you.

“So wet, is’ so good,” he moans, pressing you further into the mattress, slowly dragging his cock halfway out of you, sliding it back in with ease against your slick walls. You whimper, his head falls to rest on your shoulder, muffling his own sounds of pleasure. They vibrate through your body and he shoves his cock back into you, pumping his hips back and forth, increasing the speed gradually. Your mind feels like a lust filled haze, all you see, all you smell, all you hear, is him. Wet squelches and the slapping of skin mingle with desperate moans and whines, his hip bones hitting the back of your thighs forcefully as you contract your walls around him and his movements stutter.

“Mhm, I’m gonna cum, if you keep doing that,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice is raspy, sending a chill through your skin as the coil in your lower stomach nears its peak.

“That's the plan,” she teases breathlessly, a whimper tumbling from her throat as your other leg bends, your foot pressing against his shoulder. His hips move erratically now, the position makes him continuously hit your spongy walls in a way that has you arching your back as his ragged moans escape him. His cock twitches again, your pussy clenches, trying to pull his release from him. He looks up at you and you can tell he's close, completely pussy drunk, lost in the way his cock drags along your slick folds and you swallow him up perfectly.

“In, finish in,” you force out, the only words you can manage out, and he moans at your words, his dick drilling into you, his hips stuttering.

“I love you, so much,” he babbles out, his hips moving wildly, sucking the air from your lungs, “gonna fill you up yeah? Fill you with my cum.” Mark whimpers at his own words, his lips crashing to yours, as you reach your peak, your walls milking him as you clench, moaning into his mouth. His release follows, a ring of white gathering at the base of his cock as he whimpers, his load hot and warm against your walls. His hips jerk a few more times, stuffing his cum deep into your pussy. You both breath heavily, clutching each other as you come down from your highs, both of you quivering.

“Did you mean that?” you ask breathlessly, “that you love me.” Mark stares down at you, his hair disheveled, his cock still buried in deep within you.

“Yes,” he says, his cheeks flushed, his hand that held your leg up letting it drop, “I have, for a long time.” He almost looks sheepish, which you find amusing because he just fucked the shit out of you. You giggle, mind still hyper aware.

“So have I, loved you for a while I mean,” you say as he tiredly gropes your breasts, a dopey look on his face.

“I’m definitely dreaming,” he mumbles, lowering his body to lay on top of you. You run your hands through his hair.

“Nope,” you muse. His head tilts to look up at you, his face still dazed with a lazy smile on his lips. He presses a sweet kiss to your jaw, murmuring softly about how gorgeous you are, how you’re incredible, how he loves you. Your heart soars, because this is real, you're here together, intertwined in bed, and nothing could be better. Your life has revolved around him, as his has revolved around you. You bask in each others presence as sleep finds you both, giggling together your eyes never leaving his brown ones, until you both drift away, off to meet again in your dreams.

#clart talk #my writing!!#invincible #invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #x reader #fem reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x you #mark grayson #invincible smut #mark grayson smut

1K notes · View notes

omniseurs-blog · 2 months ago

Text

I am a stealth trans man, the privilege I have is being treated like a man as soon as they see me

If I'm applying for a job, I am treated like a woman trying to be perceived as a man, because they still see my legal name and gender marker on my ID.

If I'm trying to date, I'm perceived as a predator by straight women, a confused lesbian by bi/lesbian women (these demographics I rarely, if never go after), a tomboy by straight/bisexual men, and a gay fetishizer by gay men. At best with trans women, I become the therapist, and with trans men, it becomes an argument of passing better or worse and jealousy. That's not to say out of every demographic there are people who handle the relationship properly, but that the majority don't.

In friendships, things can go great for months and months, sometimes even years before they find out I'm trans and they start acting weird about it.

Suddenly they recommend more "feminine" music, hobbies, activities to do with me, they suddenly view me as their therapist to vent about difficulties with women, and that's all the BEST case scenario, that's the BEST thing that could happen from them finding out, this one's also the easiest to handle, "I thought you might like to see my grandmas garden.... My grandpa also likes it... Haha" - "no, nah, I wanna get back to playing eve online with you though, I mean, I do have some fake plants, heard they help with depression, think real ones would last a month at most".

An unfortunate amount of people react to things they don't understand with anger and attacks, whether that be verbal or physical.

I used to be nearly best friends with a girl named Kat. Unknown to me at the time, she had a crush on me. She invited me over, we got to her bedroom (in my mind, to hang out), she pushed me on the bed (I thought it was playful, like wrestling), and she pulled my shirt up and saw my binder, jumped away, and started apologizing. I went home straight after that. After that, she avoided me, and called me a faggot, rapist, molester, and creep after that. I wasn't interested in her at all before or after that, and I wasn't the one who initiated or caused that situation to happen.

Another incident was while I was at the mental ward, in which they usually refused to put my chosen name on the cards, and I would turn it around and write my chosen name every time I saw it. Unfortunately, I usually wasn't fast enough and someone saw my dead name on the card. He started asking me inappropriate questions, calling me a tranny, and eventually lead to him punching me in the face, the police being called, and the police did nothing besides give me a court date in an entire state over, which I had no way to get to, meaning nothing happened and the case was dropped.

A lot of people react to things they don't understand with suddenly disappearing from your life too.

You join a hobby discord server, talk, people think you're cool, they add and DM you, you get along fine talking to each other, you mention as relevant to the conversation that you're trans, the conversation magically fizzles out and becomes dry, and then they stop responding all together, usually intermitten with one or 2 inappropriate questions about your genitals or body or kids or hormones or surgery.

#trans man #trans male #transgender #transandrophobia #transphobes dni #stealth

1K notes · View notes

luveline · 10 months ago

Note

Jade can I please get a chatty af yapper sunshine girlfriend with Sirius?? Like May be someone tells her she talks a lot so she's super quiet around him cuz she's worried he'll get annoyed and break up with her but poor Sirius he misses his chatty girl and just angst with fluff

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.4k

James Potter means well. Honestly, you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body, so you try not to take it to heart.

Unfortunately, your attempts to do so don’t work. They really, unquestionably don’t. By the time you’re outside of Sirius’ flat that afternoon, James’ small comment is all you can think of.

“You’re so chatty I’m surprised you don’t run out of breath,” he’d said. Not without love. You’d bumped into him in Sainsbury’s and ended up talking for ages about one thing or another, you know him well, you’d even say you were friends, though he’s of course Sirius’ friend rather than your own. “But I’m the same. God, Sirius used to hate how much I talked, he’d be sick of me. I think I numbed him to it over the years.”

You can’t imagine it. Sirius and James are best friends. With Remus, they’re the most in love threesome of friends you’ve ever met, and it’s nice; it makes you very proud to have a boyfriend who cares for others as deeply as Sirius cares for them. It’s like a constant demonstration of how he’s a good man.

But you’d never stopped to consider that they weren’t always so seamless, and you’ve regrettably never considered that your constant talking is something that could put him off.

You talk to Sirius about everything. There isn’t a word to describe the excitement of having someone waiting to listen to you every single night. You could tell him every detail of a day down to what colour socks you wore and you know he’ll sit there listening with his hand on the small of your back, or his fingers twined between yours. You’ve never felt so loved as to be able to just talk about everything and have him talk back.

But… what if, this whole time, he’s been wishing for a little bit of quiet?

What if eventually, the talking becomes too much?

He must be with you for a reason. You aren’t holding the poor guy hostage, he acts like he’s mad for you ninety percent of the time (while the other ten percent is spent sleeping on your shoulder).

Like now —you knock his door and you can hear him scrambling up from the sofa, the sound of a book dislodged or a remote hitting the rug, you’re not sure. The door yanks open and Sirius smiles at you, pulling you in through the gap with a familiar hand on your hip.

“Hey,” Sirius says, tucking you against his side, “hey, did you get lovelier over the weekend?” He shoves the door closed and gives you a hug with one arm, pausing in the hall. “Sorry I couldn’t see you. I don’t think we should miss another weekend.”

You have a lot to tell him. It’s been ages since you spent nearly three days apart, but James’ conversation stays at the front of your mind.

You decide to be less overwhelming, but not less loving, curling your arm behind his head to pull his cheek down for a kiss. “I don’t think so, either.”

Sirius tilts his head away from you in an invitation for more kissing.

You’re at home in his flat. You take off your shoes and hang up your jacket. You change into a pair of jogging bottoms with loose legs and let him hoist you onto his bed for a few stolen kisses, though he isn’t propositioning you, and you end up laying across his bedspread with one of your legs in his lap as he tells you about his days without you, his thumb sliding with pressure down your calf.

“Mostly I wished I’d asked you to come over anyways, even if it was just to sleep together at the end of the day. Maybe next time we can do that?” he asks.

“Of course we can.” You smile at him indulgently. “I’d come over for twenty minutes if it was all I could get.”

“Or I can come to you,” he says, “even if it’s just twenty minutes.”

He smiles, a beaming thing, and leans down slowly for a soft kiss.

“So,” he asks, his breath on your lips, “how was your weekend? Lonely?”

“So lonely,” you tease lightly, eyes fluttering closed as he continues his massaging of your leg. “But it was okay. I missed you, really, and didn’t do much else.”

“No?” he asks.

Your voice takes on a shine as he squeezes your knee, “Missed your hands.”

“I missed your everything.” He grabs for your forearms and pulls you into a sitting position. “But everything was okay?” he asks more seriously.

“Everything was fine.”

He raises his eyebrows, but eventually lets them relax. “Well, okay. Good, sweetheart, I’m glad it was okay.”

He persuades you into the kitchen to sit with him as he makes dinner, refusing to let you help, and yet insisting you be there in the same room, as though you’d like to be anywhere else. Sirius makes your favourite of his usual rotation, offering you spoonfuls for tasting, gaps of silence stretching as he struggles to find new conversation. You start answering his questions but remember time and time again that Sirius could become totally sick of you. He might already be.

Sirius puts the food on a low heat and washes his hands. He wipes them dry, but when he takes your face, dampness lines the inside of his fingers.

“I’d like for you to tell me what’s wrong,” he says gently, stroking at the line of your startled frown, “before it gets worse. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Please don’t, lovely. If I’ve done something wrong, please tell me. I want us to last forever, and we can’t do that if you won’t tell me when I upset you.”

“It wasn’t you,” you say instinctively, then regret it.

“So someone has?” he asks, still so gentle as his hands coast down your neck like he’s sculpting you, coming to rest on the slopes leading to your shoulders. “You can tell me anything. You don’t have to keep it to yourself… please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sweetheart.” He frowns deeply. Couldn’t look more upset. “Of course I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You chew it over, not wanting or willing to cause ructions between Sirius and his oldest friend. “Well, I saw James today at the shop, and… we were talking about you…”

He waits. “And?”

“And he told me you– you don’t like talking. That you didn’t like talking, that James used to make you sick of it. So I know I talk too much and you’ve never made me feel like I shouldn’t, but I guess I got into my head thinking you’d get sick of me, too.”

“When we were younger I didn’t like much of anything.” He curls an arm behind your neck to hold you in place, but it’s not a dominant sort of movement, only protective as your noses inch together. “Did you ever read that poem by Bukwoski? Let It Enfold You?”

“What?”

“I’m not very good at explaining myself. I thought if you knew the poem, you’d–” He laughs near your cheek. “I hated everything. It wasn’t James’ fault. He did make me sick of it sometimes, but I just wanted to hide from everything.” He breathes out slowly. “I’ve never wanted to hide from you. I can’t get sick of you. Do you get that? I can’t get sick of you. Listening to you is the best part of my day, you’re my personal chatterbox.”

“Chatterbox,” you repeat teasingly.

“You could talk for Wales,” he says. “And I love it, I don’t want you to stop, because I’ll never be sick of it.”

“I don’t want it to be some secret resentment.”

“I don’t resent you for anything. I knew exactly who you were when we met and I love it.” He takes your face again. “I love it,” he repeats.

You steal a little kiss against the corner of his lips. “What was the poem?” you ask.

“I’ll find my book, and you can read it to me. What do you think?” He takes a slow kiss as you had in the same place, words like honey. “I miss your voice.”

He’s basically pleading. It’s not like Sirius to plead, but you pull it out of him.

“Can I have my dinner first?”

“The one I made while you deprived me?” he asks. “Yes, if you must.”

He takes another kiss, but you’re happy to give it.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

4K notes · View notes

blondwhxrewrites · 4 months ago

Text

Pornstar!Mattheo Riddle, where he's literally the most infamous man on Pornhub, known to give his girls (and sometimes boys) the greatest fuck of their life. Everyone is clamoring to book a shoot with him because his videos get so many views, and, well...he's just so good at fucking people. He knows exactly how the body works and can make any woman or man scream. He runs an OnlyFans on the side that has thousands of subscribers tuning in for his live streams. Sometimes he brings in someone, and other times he does it by himself. He's literally living the life.

Then Pansy brings you to hang out with him and his friends one day. Mattheo gets one good look at you and knows he has to fuck you. He doesn't care if it's on camera or not; he's getting your pretty little ass into his bed somehow. And it becomes ten times worse when he finds out you're a virgin. He ends up following you around like a puppy but refuses to admit he has actual feelings for you even though it's painfully obvious that he's in love with you.

He's over the moon when you finally agree to do a shoot with him, and he's so over the top about it too. He gets you a pretty lingerie set, asks if you want to do anything with toys; hell, he even would sprinkle rose petals on the bed for you if you asked him to. When everything is set up and he starts recording, he basically jumps you.

He's always been rough in bed, but he's trying so hard to be gentle with you as he slowly gets you worked up to take his cock. Not going to lie, he spends most of that time absolutely devouring your pussy. He's addicted to the way you taste and how you scream and moan his name when he curls his fingers against your g-spot over and over again.

He almost cums right then and there when he slowly pushes his cock inside of you. He's never been very vocal when it comes to sex, but he's whimpering and moaning as he pounds into you. By the time he's done with you, you've at least cummed five times, and you're probably barely conscious (you agreed beforehand that he could do whatever the hell he wanted with you).

He cleans you up, and makes sure you're all good after he stops the recording. And then he just collapses onto the bed next to you and he clings onto you for the rest of the night.

When he finally starts to edit the video, he almost can't because every time he watches it he gets so horny and he ends up jerking off to it. Honestly, he considers never uploading it because he wants to keep it—you—all to himself.

When he does eventually upload it, it quickly becomes the most viewed video he's ever had. All the comments are gushing over the fact that he's so clearly in love with you. You quickly become a fan favorite, with all his fans wanting to see you again because Mattheo obviously has feelings for you.

Little did they know he's reading those comments with you snuggled up beside him in bed (:

#reader insert #slytherin boys #harry potter #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #certified yapper #its a miracle #I posted two thing in one day #can you guys tell im ovulating

3K notes · View notes

miriani-lavellan · 6 months ago

Text

Ahh, Lucanis. So let me first say, his scenes make total sense and I'm happy with what we got - we all want more from our faves, but they did manage to compact a lot of trauma and resolution in some fairly compact quests. Here's what I think happened that wasn't made explicitly clear though:

Lucanis chooses the pantry to sleep in because he's been imprisoned and tortured for a year, and he's not ready to leave captivity yet, not inside his head. He locks himself in there because it's familiar misery to him, which is easier to deal with than scary freedom.

Lucanis' letter to Rook before he asks Emmrich to bring Zara back for questioning tells us he's suicidal at that point, and probably has been for a while. Spite, however, doesn't see him as a lost cause - he never uses that to take over Lucanis' body entirely. This is so interesting to me, when we know things like that pretty famously happen all the time in Thedas. He's determined to keep Lucanis alive - and he asks for Rook's help in doing so.

We are in the NORTH now BABY! Attitudes towards spirits and demons are different here, especially in Rivain, and it seems with our Rook too, who never expresses any chantry-esque hang ups (that I've seen). Seer Rowan greets Spite as Determination, and that's how he's introduced by Isabela (with some excitement) if you fight in the hall of Valor. What happened to Spite is just as sad as what happened to Lucanis. He was violated, perhaps corrupted, and definitely trapped - and hurts Lucanis sometimes in his frustration. But, I think he likes Lucanis! He's his host's little head gremlin, and I think the relationship they have (that we don't see too much of) is healthier than any of the possessed individuals we've seen before.

Because? Lucanis is not a spiteful person. He wants revenge, yes, and he's angry, but he doesn't hurt everyone around him because he's in pain. One of the first things he does when he becomes part of the team is go shopping for them. And despite how Ilario and Caterina have hurt him - and you can argue all day whether he's right to be like this - he still cares for them.

I think that when we help Lucanis leave the prison inside his head, we are helping Spite to return to his original nature as Determination just a little more. We're determined to help our friend, and you know what? Spite is too. For himself, firstly, because Lucanis's pain is hurting him, but in the end, he's done it for Lucanis too. There's an argument there that Determination didn't get corrupted at all - just hurt, and that Lucanis, with his loving nature, has been keeping him from turning into a mindless demon of pain.

I thought for a long time that when Lucanis breaks away from kissing Rook, it was because Spite said something horrible to him. But actually, I think it was Lucanis himself, remembering how trapped he is. Thinking about the eventuality of killing himself - I strongly suspect that's what he was thinking about before he fell asleep, and that's why Spite was trying to go walkabout - trying to get out from where Lucanis can't. Lucanis got lost in the moment, but of course he doesn't want to drag Rook into that.

Lucanis making dessert for Rook and thinking that's the same as asking them out (but not actually asking them out) is so completely on brand for him I laughed. He has no idea what he's doing. It would have been nice, though, for Rook to reply to one of the companion's 'so you're together?' banters with... 'we are?' Or for Rook to be able to ask him. Unfortunately, we don't get those convos where we can spam ask questions etc like in DA:I - I did wonder if that got cut and we missed some resolution to that.

Lucanis gives no shits about everyone knowing he's Rook's love interest. He's not ashamed of himself or scared he'll hurt them - Rook has helped both him and Spite. And judging by the way Spite's wings come out to embrace Rook as they kiss Lucanis, I suspect that Spite might love them, too.

#dragon age #dragon age spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #lucanis dellamorte

3K notes · View notes

samsmissingshoee · 7 months ago

Text

ANGEL — SAM WINCHESTER.

SUMMARY — sam starts to grow fond of an angel. they have grown more comfortable around each other, and tensions run high when dean leaves for a bar.

WARNINGS — no plot all porn... 18+, softdom!sam, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, f!receiving, unexperienced!reader, angel!reader, LOTS of praise, biting, creampie, mentions of religion, sam's a sweetheart. he's also a freak.

WC — 4.3k. i got carried away.

A/N — i feel like i'm going to hell just from the warnings alone. i erm. i don't even know. shout out the two people who asked to get tagged in this 🙏 first ever smut fic, if you hate i'll probably delete my account. i am not editing 4.3k words btw. i'm lazy.

angels weren't supposed to enjoy the feeling of a human. that much was well known.

and when you came from heaven to assist castiel in whatever the hell it was that he was doing, that was repeated to you over and over again. these 'humans', they weren't important. your only job was to make sure sam winchester didn't get hurt. that was all this was supposed to be. a casual round of protecting the winchesters.

you didn't understand human norms, and at first, sam didn't like you. you didn't take personally, of course, because, well, sam hated any angel at first. castiel quickly explained to you about the brother's and how you'd be spending more time with them while he awaited directions. honestly, you couldn't care less about either of the brothers, too. they were hunters, and you were an angel. you weren't supposed to mix anyway.

sam winchester was more interesting than his older and shorter brother, though. sam was thoughtful and a lot more curious about you than he let on at first. as you spent more time 'watching' over him, you realized he enjoyed asking you questions about heaven, and the angels, and about castiel. and you tried to answer them to the best of your ability.

sam was more open to learning about you than dean, and he was more considerate when it came to teaching you knew things. slowly, he started defending you against dean's antics, and he learned about how curious you were, too.

he spent many late nights awake with you, struggling with his insomnia. you made it much more enjoyable. on the off chance that he did get some sleep, he'd wake up to you in the bunker, lounging and reading one of his books. as soon as you saw him awake, you'd pounce on him, eager to talk all about it.

sam found you endearing in the same way you found him intriguing. you both taught each other different things. he taught you about different emotions and how to communicate them to him. he showed you his favorite movies. he told you about his time in standford and about how he was studying law. you taught him about the bible, about praying and how you'd always come if he prayed for you. you taught him about heaven and hell, and angels and everything in between.

eventually, you two become friends, as much as younger sam would have hated to admit that. he showed you what friendship was and what it was like to worry about someone more than yourself. he explained to you what love was and about heartbreak. sam watched as you turned from this unemotional, blunt angel into a person, crafted by the things you loved.

you two kissed about six months after hunting with him. you were unexerienced, and painfully so, and your first kiss was nothing but giggles and awkward stares. the second, third, and fourth ones weren't any better. sam was ridiculously dotting and patient, and even though you were an angel and didn't understand what a relationship was, you still tried for him, and he loved you for it.

after a week of sneaky kisses and rushing into each other's rooms once dean fell asleep, you seemed to have gotten the hang of it. you and sam hadn't done anything remotely sexual other than a few hands-under-the-bra's and one /bad/ attempt at a handjob. sam was enthralled in watching you become more confident and learning how to touch him the way that he liked and how to kiss him properly. so he didn't mind taking things slow.

you two agreed to not have sex yet, partially because to you, it was a sin, and partially because you didn't know what you were doing. sam had no issue waiting. that was, until tonight.

you don't even remember how this happened, honestly — the lingering touches became more frequent, more needy, and at some point, sam had slipped you out of your shirt and bra. you'd barely even made it to his room /thank god for dean being out at a bar tonight/, before he was kissing you, his lips hiding something more intense tonight.

you wouldn't have protested anyways, but as soon as your shirt was gone, sam was all over you.

"i know it feels dirty, honey. but it's not. i wouldn't lie to you." sam hums against your throat, kissing the soft skin. when he talks like that, all low and soothing, you might just believe anything he says. he pulls back to look at your concerned expression, and his smile softens.

his movement stills, and you frown, almost wishing sam would convince you to do more. that feeling in your stomach, the one that felt close to nausea, started to feel nice. and you craved more of it. you craved more of sam.

although his desire outweighed his guilt for ruining the purity of an angel like this, sam still sat up for a moment, his hazel eyes practically begging you. he was nothing, if not a gentleman. "do you want this?" sam asks, hushed and spoken like a prayer, and you think you might get sent to hell just from how he's looking at you.

sam's hair is a ruffled mess, and his long sleeve black shirt was rolled up to his elbows. his carhartt jacket had long been discarded by you, tossed somewhere into the dark abyss that was the dingy, horribly lit motel room. he looks beautiful.

"i do, sammy, but—" you breathe out shakily. before you can finish answering, his hands are on your hips, tugging you closer to him. you're both standing up, his large hands moving up your skirt to trail up your sides. sam can feel your back arch against his hands slightly, and it's taking everything in him to not lose his resolve.

san, who previously said he was okay with waiting, felt like a selfish man tonight. he could honestly care less about your innocence right now. what he did care about was you, though. sam knew that if you wanted him to continue, he wouldn't be able to stop.

"but what?" sam mumbled, his fingertips digging against your hips. his erection was pressed dangerously against your thigh. he shifted you until you were pressed against him — he knew what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. you didn't answer and could only grumble a complaint out.

"just needa taste you, honey. we don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." sam's words are a contradiction to how he was staring at you. "although, i have thought about doing more." he hums, and he has a slight shit eating grin on his face. it's sort of surprising that this is your sweet sammy.

you're conflicted— this is wrong. sinful. but there was a bubbling heat in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to make sam feel good. maybe a part of being human was indulging in your sins. you pout at him slightly, and sam has to stop himself from moving his hips up against you. he doesn't just want this, he needs this. he needs to corrupt you, to ruin your innocence until all you can think about is him.

"fine. be gentle, though, sam. i mean it." you relent, although you didn't need much convincing. honestly, if he tried to pull off of you, you'd be the one begging him to touch you and not the other way around.

"oh, fuck—" sam groans, and he almost instantly falls to his knees. his hands are tugging off your jeans faster than you can process. "you don't know how long i've wanted this." his tone makes you feel dirty, and you can't help when your brows crumple into a slight glare. you didn't know what he was doing, but you wanted him to hurry it up.

you help him kick your jeans off around your ankles and step out of them. you're left in your cotton panties, and for some reason, it turns sam on more to know you weren't planning for this. honestly, neither was he.

"leave these on." two fingers slip underneath the elastic by your thigh, tugging them and letting them go, the fabric snapping against your skin. the action makes you suck in a breath. sam's lips make their way to your upper thighs, sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin. it's not enough, and he knows that. he's driving you crazy on purpose to see you squirm for him.

"sam—" you chastise, like a scold, your hand running through his hair and tugging on it gently, trying to bring your hips closer to him. sam fucking moans. he moans at getting his hair pulled, and it makes your brows crease in bewilderment. /you would definitely be keeping that in mind./

sam looks up at you with those same puppydog eyes, and you swear you're going to burst into literal flames and have your wings removed instantly. "needa taste my girl's pussy. y'gonna let me?" sam says softly, his voice muffled by your thigh, gently biting on a spot. when you whimper, he pulls back to kiss at the forming bruise, his hands massaging at the fat of your ass.

truth be told, you'd probably let him fold into a pretzel at this point, but you didn't want to stroke his massive ego.

the noise you make is answer enough, and sam deftly pulls your panties to the side. his hand brings yours to hold them. he needs *both* hands for devouring you. sam's two middle fingers move to collect your slick from your folds, and you shiver. his brows raise, and he smiles again. "you're soaked, baby. you really want me that bad?" he asks, and you're nodding quickly.

sam can't hold back when you look this pretty above him. you can feel his breath against you. even just looking at you bare in front of him is enough to make him want to cum in his fucking jeans.

he flattens his tongue against you, and your hips stutter against his mouth. you've never felt anything like this before. you can feel sam's grin against your cunt, his hands cupping into your ass and pulling your hips further into his mouth.

seeing such a large man, especially one like sam, at his knees, lapping at your pussy like a fucking starved man— it makes your head fuzzy.

without warning, his middle finger slips into you. your hands move to his hair to steady yourself, massaging at the brown strands, pushing some from off his sticky forehead. the concentration on his face is almost cute, but it soon becomes too hard to keep your eyes open.

another finger slips past your folds, and you're mouthing his name like a prayer. his fingers are rocking into you at a slow speed, but his mouth— it was fucking dirty, the way he'd suck on your clit, only pulling away to breathe. everytime he pulled away, a string of saliva followed, connected between you two. his chin was slick with your arousal, his chest panting with heavy breaths. and then he was right back to devouring you.

maybe sam winchester was the devil.

your hands tug on his hair slightly, and sam groans against you. the heat in your stomach was building and sam was near drunk on your pussy. when he looked up at you with those hazel eyes, you moaned, your thighs tremoring.

"sam— sam, it feels too good... please—" you breathed out, panting too now, and sam didn't relent, no matter how hard you were tugging at his hair. his hand was holding your hip hard not daring to let you squirm away from him. indents of his fingertips would ruin your pretty skin by the morning. you had to shy away from his intense gaze.

sam pulled away, still fucking his fingers into you. "eyes on me, baby." he mumbled, before sinking flush against your clit again. you listened, although your face was an embarrassing hue of pink. sam was just as loud and needy, if not worse than you. everytime your thighs clenched around him, or you tugged on his hair, profanities and groans slipped from his lips. he needed you.

sam kept his tongue latched onto you, his eyes showing that he was as desperate as you were to make you cum. the noises he was making were filth, soft grunts and groans, all muffled by your puffy pussy. when your eyes flickered down, you noticed that one of his hands were palming himself through his jeans.

with every shake and spasm, it was like sam knew you were close. he was using his hands to rock your hips more onto his tongue, your weight practically suffocating him. sam would gladly die a happy man in between your folds, if it meant getting to look up at your beautiful face contorting in pleasure. his chest swells at the fact that he is the one who gets to touch you like this.

that feeling returned as quickly as it left, and soon you were cumming on his face, your legs shaking as he kept his fingers curled into your folds. that was probably the best thing you'd felt since coming to earth. sam pressed a kiss to your overstimulated clit, before kissing up your stomach, your breasts, collarbone, and finally standing to his full height over you.

"how was that?" sam asks, licking the wetness off his fingers. as much as he wanted to ruin you, he also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.

heavy pants still wracked both of your bodies, your thighs aching and barely able to hold your own weight. he had the audacity to ask that after making you feel things you hadn't felt in your centuries alive? in between deep breaths, you shot him a slight glare.

"what do you think?" you tutted, puffing his lips out in that gorgeous pout that made sam was to kiss you stupid, holding onto his biceps so you didn't lose balance.

sam grins in response, his hands moving to your bare hips, pressing you into him. his cock was fucking painfully hard and he had to refrain from rutting against you. "i need to fuck you, honey." fuck sam and his beautiful eyes, pleading at you. his hand leads your to palm him from over his jeans, and he moans softly, so prettily.

you were conflicted. you knew his cock would feel so much better than his fingers, but this was wrong. "sammy—" you say in the same chastising voice that drives him insane.

"please, let me fuck you. need to feel you around my dick. fuck, doesn't even have to be all the way." sam pleads, and you have a hard time saying no to that. he was practically begging you. you sigh at how weak you were for this man. "please fuck me, sam."

sam eyes widen slightly, and he can't help his grin as he pushes you back against the bed. his eyes stay on you as he pulls his shirt off, discarding it across the motel floor along with all of yours. you can't help but stare at him. all tanned, scarred, and bruised, despite being young. it was so different compared to your imperfect skin, free of any blemishes or let alone scars.

sam's tantalizingly slow as he takes off his belt, followed by his jeans. he's fucking huge. that much you can tell by his bulge alone. your eyes widen slightly when he strips his boxers off.

he wanted to take his time with you, to treat you like the goddamn angel you were, to wrack every noise he can from your lips. but, sam was impatient as hell. and he was really, really hard.

"you're beautiful." sam coos, caging you in between his much larger frame. there is a shine in his gaze, so soft and loving, that it almost makes you feel queasy. he's not doing this because he's bored or because he wants to get off. sam's doing this because you're his world.

"you're alright." you respond, not able to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips afterward, especially when you felt sam's annoyed sigh against the crook of your neck. you can feel his irritated grin. sam fell in love with that devilish laugh of yours, and he found it endearing that even during this, he could make you sound like that.

it was such a sharp contrast from how emotionless and... awkward— you first were when you met the winchester brothers. sam has loved watching you adapt this sassy personality, loved eyeing you while you admire new things, hearing the way your voice heightened whenever you laughed, the way you took over parts of his and dean's own quirks and personalities.

"just alright? you wound me, angel."

this time, you rolled your eyes. you turn your head to the side to press your lips against the mole below his right eye. "you're beautiful too, sammy. you already know that." you huff out, your tone unmistakably soft. sam scoffed, nipping at her neck slightly. it was nice to hear that from you, regardless of what he thought about himself.

unfortunately for you, the compliment rushes to sam's head. he sits up slightly, his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a hand brushing over your cheek, moving your fanned hair out of your face. "are you sure you're okay with this? we can stop— i'll put on a movie, and we can forget—"

you interrupt sam's worries by pressing a kiss to his palm. "yes sam, i'm sure. please." and that small act of intimacy followed by your voice pleading for him was enough reassurance for sam. no need to tell him twice.

sam pumps himself a few times, his eyes not once leaving yours. "scoot your hips up for me, honey." you oblige, and you can feel his cock pressed against your clothed entrance. the sight leaves nothing for the imagination and sam sighs as his fingers pulls your panties down to your ankles.

sam looks like he's in fucking heaven, his lips parted and staring at you bare in front of him. his thumb habitually moves to your clit, rubbing soft circles against it just to watch you squirm under him.

"sam, quit being a damn tease." you frown and wiggle your hips into his more. his gaze is making you shy, something you didn't know was even possible as an angel.

"innocent angel, my ass." sam mumbles under his breath, but he obliges, lining up his cock to you. he collects your slick with his tip, dragging the wetness over your already overstimulated clit. sam rubs it against your folds a few times, before pressing only about halfway in. the moan that leaves your lips is heavenly, so much so that sam's head has to fall to your shoulder and bites it softly so he doesn't cum too fast like a damn high schooler.

"you're so fucking tight, shit—" sam groans and it's so dirty coming from him. he's usually so sweet to you, so hearing this is different. and arousing. but different. you'd expect this talk out of dean, not sam.

sam really wished he would've slept around a little more in college now because it was taking far too much concentration to not finish already.

"need to fuck you, baby. please." sam all but whimpers out. all of your beliefs, your nightly prayers, all of it was gone the second you felt him inside of you. you can only nod in response, your hands tugging at his waist to come closer to you.

sam stills, looking at you for a moment like he can't believe you want this. and slowly, he pushes in all the way, and you both share a pornographic moan.

sam is quiet as he lets you adjust to his size. he wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was pretty big. and even though your vessel wasn't a virgin, mentally, you still were. sam had a mantra of things going through his head — the main ones being: please don't cum, please don't cum, please don't cum. don't say i love you. don't move too fast yet. let her adjust.

sam leans down to kiss your forehead. "good?" he hums.

you nod again. "hurts a little." and sam is nothing but patient, kissing each of your temples before brushing your hair away.

"i promise you're doing so good. it's gonna hurt for a moment. it'll feel better soon. just relax." sam murmured against your shoulder, his lips sighing down towards your collarbone. "gonna move now, sweet girl." calloused palms are pressing your thighs to your chest. he leans down enough so you can hold on to his shoulders if you need.

with one hand still on the back of your leg, and the other one cupping one of your breasts, he pulls out almost all the way before rocking in slowly. your eyes screwing shut from pleasure is enough to test the waters with a more heavy thrust. "that's it, baby. look at you—" sam groans, his fingertips digging into your skin. his eyes were glued to where his cock was entering you rhythmically, and god, he could get addicted to that sight. sam could fucking see where the tip of his cock was pressing into your belly. his palm moved over it, adding slight pressure to your lower pelvis. the feeling made him groan out your name softly. he was just as loud as you were. "so beautiful."

part of you wanted sam to shut up so you could focus on the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, but the other half of you enjoyed the flithy words leaving his flushed lips.

"oh, fuck. sammy, 's too much—" you whimpered out, your hand squeezing his biceps. your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, the balls of your heels digging against his ass. sam think he likes that you're not very vocal. it makes every beg, every moan that much more special to him. he was the only one who got to see his angel falling apart like this.

everything about sam is fucking massive, from his height, to his sheer size difference over you. it shouldn't have been shocking that his dick was huge too, but you felt it now. you felt every single inch, stretching you out, your arousal slipping down his shaft. sam's thrusts grew more feverish, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his face as his head fell forward slightly. "i know you can handle it baby." he grunted in response to your plea, hazel eyes fucked out with lust.

that feeling in your lower belly returned, and now, at least, you know what it meant. it was overwhelming, but not enough for you. your hand reached for sam's hand, guiding it to you clit. sam thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking seen, and shuddered slightly. "you wanna cum around my cock? is that it, sweetheart?" sam asks, a small, contemplating smile on his lips.

you're writhing under his cock, your back arching off the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles around your nub. you tap his bicep in warning of your approaching orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he doesn't slow down either. in fact, he ruts his hips faster. the feeling of you clenching around his dick is enough to send him over the edge, too. he's biting down hard on his cheek to stop himself from cumming before you. he wants, needs to see you cum first, before he can.

your face contorts into pleasure, and you cum hard, sam still fucking you through your orgasm. he groans and his eyes close when he watches you making a mess all over him. "thaaat's it. that's my girl." he encourages, the feeling of your walls clenching around him tipping him over the edge. "fuck. gonna fill you up." he grunts against your shoulder, his hips stuttering slightly and you moan as you feel his cock twitch inside you, before you feel cum spurt into your cunt.

sam pulls out a moment after, his eyes blown out when he watches his spend leak from your pulsating hole. he uses two fingers to spread it around over your folds. once he's satisfied with his handiwork, he slumps down into the bed next to you.

you're still a panting, sighing mess. you feel your legs twitch occasionally, and you're finally coming to your senses. you were just fucked stupid by your best friend. a human.

"jesus, sam. is this really what humans are doing?" you ask, out of genuine curiosity, and sam pinches your side with a slight laugh. he looks spent, almost as bad as you. his head falls to your shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft skin present.

"the lucky ones, yeah." sam huffs in amusement. "you're okay, right? i didn't hurt you, or pressure you or anything?" his voice is a little persistent, worried, already overthinking like he wasn't just inside of you.

"'course not. that was amazing. i think i'd go to hell if it meant having sex everyday— i see why castiel was encouraging me into trying this." you tilt your head to the side, and sam raises an eyebrow. he didn't even dare ask what odd things castiel told you about. nor did he want to know. he couldn't see castiel doing anyone without scaring them away with his bluntness first.

sam chooses to ignore that, leaning over to pepper kisses onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead. anywhere you'll let him at this point. "you did amazing. absolutely drained me. y'sure you haven't done that before?" he teases, and you roll your eyes at him. your eyes watched him with concern when sam stood.

"alright, crazy girl. let's get you cleaned up."

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #supernatural #dean winchester #dean winchester smut #sam winchester smut

3K notes · View notes

thehouseofurmotha · 9 months ago

Text

Shinsou dating Aizawa's daughter head cannons :)

Pairing: Shinsou x Aizawa!Reader

I'm also working on a soulmate au with Shinsou 🤭 I fear he may be my favorite

• You and him meet when Aizawa asks you to spar with him, as you both have quirks that are less equipped for close range combat. You're in class 1-A too which is the class Shinsou would most likely join when he ends up in the hero course so it just made sense.

• You whoop his ass, he's immediately in love. He thinks you're extremely skilled and talented and pretty much begs you to help train him with your dad.

• Maybe it's because he wants to see you more often, but you don't need to know that.

• You ultimately agree and you and Shinsou pretty muuuuch become besties.

• But this is not enough for this man because he is absolutely enamored with you.

• One day while the two of you are sparing, your father leaves to go get another cup of coffee. And at this point he finally manages to pin you to the ground.

• For whatever reason he decides this is the best time to shoot his shot and is like, "Go on a date with me?" While he's just casually got you pinned to the ground.

• You don't manage to give him an answer before your dad gets back, but after you get up and brush yourself off you look at him and mouth a simple 'yes'.

• He smiles like a madman at this and your father looks at him and asks him what he's smiling about. He quickly goes back to his normal tired resting face with a quick nothing.

• Aizawa def thinks this is weird but he decides not to press any father. He feels bad pressing kids to tell him something they don't really have to.

• You guys go on a few dates before you officially start dating. Your father definitely notices that something about the two of you has changed but he doesn't realize that it has to do with the two of you being together.

• He finds out when he walks into your room while you and Shinsou were supposed to be just hanging out and watching a movie. Which he didn't find odd because the two of you had become fast friends with the friendly competition of sparring. But as he walks into your room to ask the two of you want for dinner he finds the two of you making out.

• He IMMEDIATELY kicks Shinsou out of your guys apartment. He isn't really mad that you guys are together he's just mad that you hid it from him and he had to find out like this.

• You guys have a very long conversation about being safe, and he definitely calls Midnight to handle most of it because he thinks he might just simply pass out from embarrassment. (You as well)

• He tells you he doesn't really care as long as you're happy. But this man does not let Shinsou live it down.

• Bro is fighting for his life during training the next day being worked so hard.

• Shinsou eventually gets back on your dad's good side and he comes over for weekly dinners.

I fear I may have an obsession with dadzawa.. and Shinsou.. I'm simply js a girl though. Anyways I hope you enjoyed :) <3 happy reading!

3K notes · View notes

nadvs · 1 year ago

Text

home before dark (part one)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, eventual smut, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

You’ve been looking at your reflection for five minutes now, eyes rimmed red from crying. Muffled, bass-heavy music is echoing from the front of the house.

You’ll do anything to delay going back out there. Even if it means standing still in the bathroom, trying and failing to stop tears.

Parties at Tannyhill always bring in massive crowds, yet your ex-boyfriend still managed to find you in the sea of people. You slipped away and have been hiding since, the anxiety of seeing him again crushing you.

Thankfully, you know your way around the estate. It was once like your second home.

As an only child, you latched onto the Cameron siblings the second you met them. You had just moved to Kildare, your dad having been an old college friend of Ward’s.

You practically grew up with them. You’re still close with Sarah. And even though Wheezie was only four when they lost their mother, she seems to find comfort in you always being around.

But your once best friend, who you’re merely weeks apart from in age, was transformed by the grief. Rafe is a stranger now. And you can tell that he loathes being around you.

When the door is roughly pushed open, the knob slamming against the wall, your heart lurches, overtaken by the sharp fear that Ty has found you.

But it’s Rafe, his hair hanging over his forehead and his nose dripping with blood, shattering your solitude.

He meets your eyes for just a second and looks away as soon as he sees it’s you. Like always. He never makes eye contact with you for very long.

“You’re bleeding,” you say quietly.

“No shit,” he mutters.

He barges past you to the sink, spitting crimson blood onto the porcelain. He’s hunched over the counter, panting, pissed off that you’re still standing there. Still lingering.

You’re always around. A constant reminder.

“Do you need help?” you ask, but you step back, your actions mismatching your words. You put distance between you for his comfort. Not yours.

“No.” His head is in splitting pain. He hasn’t accepted help in years and he’s not starting now.

This is how your conversations with him always go. You extend an olive branch. He snaps it in half.

You were both ten years old when the sweet boy you knew started hating the world and everyone in it. You had a front row seat to the tragedy that broke Rafe Cameron, a mama’s boy who suddenly lost the person he loved most.

But no matter what he does or says to you, you can’t hate Rafe back. After the accident that took his mother’s life, the compassion you harbor for him won’t let you.

While you definitely don’t like the person he’s become, a man so cold and aggressive, you couldn’t hate him if you tried.

You look at your reflections, side by side. You were once kids playing on the beach together, but in the mirror stands a bloodied cokehead next to a tearful mess, living in another summer of seeing each other everywhere and never speaking.

If it were up to you, it wouldn’t be like this. You’d still be friends. But he has his group of buddies who he drinks and smokes with and to him, they’re enough and you’re not.

Rafe looks up from his contorted position, the water rushing out of the faucet loudly. Frustration rises in him when he sees your silhouette in the mirror. He focuses on the edge of the sink, refusing to meet your eyes.

“You’re still here?” he snaps.

You’re used to the disheartening sight of a high and injured Rafe. He snorts lines and brawls at almost every party. Everyone calls him a psycho behind his back.

You want to ask what happened, but you know he’ll brush you off like he always does. You leave the room, determined to escape the party and go home. It’s past midnight anyway.

You’re nearly out the front door when frigid fingers wrap around your forearm. Your blood runs cold as you twist to see Ty, his eyes fixed on you.

“Did you block me?” he asks, the smile that once charmed you now making you sick. You look around at the crowds of partygoers as if someone can save you.

He’s still refusing to accept that you broke up with him a week ago. It was annoying at first. But now, it’s scary. He won’t leave you alone.

He texted you so many times over the last few days, going back and forth between calling you a waste of time and apologizing and begging to see you, that you had to block him.

After a few months together, you realized he wasn’t as nice of a person as he liked to pretend to be. Slowly, who he really is seeped in, unveiling a cruel and controlling brute.

“Of course I did,” you say. “I told you to stop texting me. I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”

“You’re not thinking straight,” Ty scoffs. “It can’t just be over.”

“Yes, it can,” you say, straining out of his grip. You had told him over and over that if he wasn’t going to stop disrespecting you, you’d leave. He kept apologizing, saying every outburst was a one-time thing, just to put you through the same pain again.

“Are you going home?” he asks.

You wish he didn’t know that your parents are on a business trip and will be gone for the next couple of weeks. Regrettably, he’s aware you’ll be sleeping in an empty house for the next while.

“No,” you lie.

“Then let’s get a drink and talk about this,” he says sternly. “Unless you’re with some other guy now and that’s why you tried to break up with me?”

Could that be the only way he’ll leave you alone? You try not to shrink under his gaze, a heartless, eerie abyss. The fact that he says you tried to break up with him tells you he still isn’t accepting that the relationship is over.

“I broke up with you because you treated me like shit,” you say. Your heartbeat is loud and your breaths are shallow and in a split second, you decide to lie as an act of survival. “But yeah, I am with someone else now.”

Rafe turns off the faucet, heart racing from the coke and the adrenaline of winning a fight. It all started because some guy looked at him wrong. That was enough for Rafe to start swinging.

Admittedly, letting out his aggression is a thrill. It’s his comfort zone. When he surrounds himself with chaos, it distracts him from the voices howling in his mind.

Life is nothing but a sick game of tag, and he’s been running away from reality and towards disorder for years.

Rafe’s nose is still throbbing from the only punch the other guy managed to get in when he heads back into the throws of the party.

He’s filling up a solo cup in the dining room when your eyes meet his. He can’t look away this time. You’re rushing towards him, fear written into your features.

Once you hastily close the distance, leaving mere inches between you, Rafe can see you’ve been crying.

“Hey,” you say over the music, overwhelmingly grateful that you finally found him after frantically rippling through the crowds. “Can you help me? Please?”

Maybe it’s because of the desperation in your glossy eyes. Or because you both once knew how to make the other feel better. Or because you chose him to help, when he’s used to never being chosen by anyone for anything. But he decides to hear you out.

“What?” he mutters, hollow blue eyes searching your face. Rafe’s brooding, all cleaned up now, the blood wiped away.

You look over your shoulder, your chest rising and falling at full tilt, then face him again.

“My ex is following me,” you say. “Can you pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“What?” Rafe’s mouth is twined in irritation. Of all the guys to use to make your ex jealous, you pick him?

“Rafe, please,” you say hurriedly.

You turn to see Ty, his eyebrows raised in clear surprise. After you talked to him by the front door, you rushed away, feeling his looming presence trailing after you.

You face your ex, standing beside Rafe with your hand curling around his hard bicep, finding unexpected relief in holding him. It’s jarring touching him after years of distance.

Rafe can’t remember the last time he was touched like this. It’s like a reprieve from the rush he’s always in, slowing him down.

Ty shoves his way through groups of people, his face carved with anger.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he shouts over the music, eyes darting between you two. Rafe recognizes him. He’s seen you together at parties and the country club. This guy is just another Kook who gets shit-faced every chance he gets.

“Leave me alone, Ty,” you say.

“You’re with him?” he mutters with a laugh.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, tone shaky, praying Rafe plays along. He catches the brittle waver in your words.

“You can’t be serious,” Ty says. “That was fast.”

He steps forward and you find yourself cowering behind Rafe, who instinctually straightens up.

When Rafe realizes your hand is trembling, something in him twists. You’re not trying to make this guy jealous. You’re afraid of him.

Even after the years of hostility between you, somehow, you uncover a soft spot that Rafe didn’t know he had. He hates that this asshole is scaring you.

“Get out,” Rafe says to your ex, his deep voice sending relief through you.

Ty’s eyes dart to Rafe before his gaze is on you again.

“Really?” he ridicules you. “The guy you always call a psycho?”

Rafe’s arm flexes beneath your hand.

It’s a lie. People talk shit about Rafe, but you have never uttered a bad word about him to anyone.

“I never said that,” you retaliate.

“Just come outside so we can talk,” Ty says, his voice dripping with anger.

“Whose fucking house do you think this is, bitch?” Rafe shouts, roughly shoving Ty’s shoulder. “I told you to get out.”

You see fear on your ex’s face for the first time in your life. Your instincts were right to push you to run to Rafe. Everyone’s afraid of him.

“Chill,” Ty says with a forced smile, palms up in surrender. You’re sure he’s thinking of all the brawls he’s witnessed at these parties. Rafe might get roughed up, but he hardly ever loses a fight.

“Go,” Rafe sneers.

“I - I am,” Ty stammers. He meets your gaze one last time before he flees, his lips thinning in anger. Dread surges through you. You can tell you’re not rid of him.

Awkward tension settles between you and Rafe. He turns to look down at you, eyes flitting to your hand still on his arm. You let go.

Of the entire fervid exchange, what blares in your mind the loudest is Ty’s lie.

“I never said that about you,” you say.

Rafe scoffs. He figures it’s better to be feared, to be seen as a psycho, instead of the loser he knows he is.

“I don’t give a shit,” Rafe mutters, although, for whatever reason, he feels a piece of him caring what you think about him. He shifts to continue filling his cup with beer, pissed off and disoriented.

“He lied,” you tell him, stepping to the side to meet Rafe’s eyes again. You need him to know.

“Got it,” he says carelessly. He dips his head back as he downs his drink.

“Listen, I’m sorry to drag you into this, okay?” you say. “I don’t know what to do. He won’t leave me alone.”

He stills. Talking to you is hard. The fact that you’re still kind to him makes it harder.

But you’re so clearly terrified. Maybe he owes this to you. Everyone else wrote him off, but you, for whatever reason, still treat him with a gentleness he knows he doesn’t deserve.

“If he bothers you again…” Rafe says. He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you don’t need him to. This is his way of telling you he’ll protect you.

You stare at his hardened features. You always felt like you grew up with Rafe from a distance. You know him in snapshots.

The ten-year-old who made small footprints next to yours in the sand. The seventh grader who got into so many fights that rumors of expulsion circulated around school. The high schooler who didn’t care to hide that he was doing lines at every party.

And now, he’s the man towering over you, drugged up, throwing punches every chance he gets, agreeing to pretend to be your boyfriend.

The fact that he’s willing to put on this charade for your safety makes you think that maybe there is a soft part of Rafe left somewhere deep inside. A part of the boy he once was.

“Thank you,” you say. You’re sure he won’t want to carry on the conversation, so you step away before he takes back his offer.

You find Sarah and ask if you can crash in her room tonight, knowing she’ll say yes. The thought of going to your empty house is too daunting.

The next morning, you’re sitting in the large kitchen of the Camerons’ estate, wearing last night’s clothes. You stare out the window, wishing your anxiety didn’t keep you awake last night.

You slept a couple of broken hours next to Sarah, thoughts of your ex and what he might be capable of rushing through your mind.

You’re not sure what to do next. In a normal world, you’d spend your summer partying and having fun with friends and enjoying your lack of a schedule. But things aren’t normal right now.

You’re desperate to shower and get into clean clothes and simply exist in the comfort of your home.

When Rafe sees you sitting in the kitchen, sunlight spilling over the planes of your face, he does something he never saw himself doing again. He approaches you, instead of running away.

Footsteps pull you out of your daze. You meet Rafe’s tired eyes. He doesn’t look away this time and it makes hope bloom in your chest.

He settles on the other side of the table, across from you, tensely raking his hair back. He doesn’t say anything, words trapped in his throat.

“You’re up early,” you say to break the silence.

Last night was one of many sleepovers you’ve had here. Even though you and Rafe don’t speak much, you’ve puttered around the house enough to have noticed his habits, one of them being that he typically wakes up well into the afternoon the day after a party.

But Rafe wants to cut through the bullshit of small talk. He can’t get how scared you looked last night out of his head. And he won’t admit that it’s the reason he wasn’t able to fall back asleep when the brightness of the sun woke him up this morning.

“Did he ever put his hands on you?” he finally asks, voice low. He braces himself for the answer. He doesn’t know how he’ll take it if you were getting hurt while he was always close by, ignoring you.

“No,” you say. The thought sends a chill through you. “He got… mean. And controlling. Or I guess he was always like that, but he hid it at the beginning. Maybe he would’ve eventually started hurting me. I don’t know.”

Rafe clenches his fist beneath the table. It may be hypocritical to be so angry at another man for being cruel to you when all he’s done for years is end every conversation you’ve tried to start with him. But Rafe has never claimed to reasonable.

“And he won’t leave you alone?” he recalls.

You shake your head no. Silence nestles between you, but this time, it doesn’t feel as uncomfortable.

Rafe’s eyes finds yours again, a shade of blue you can’t forget no matter how many times he’s averted his gaze.

“You scared of him?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you admit. The way your voice weakens puts Rafe even more on edge.

“You don’t have to be anymore,” he says. You exhale slowly, enveloped by a sense of security that you haven’t felt in a long time.

“He looked afraid last night,” you tell him. “When you pushed him, I mean. I’ve never seen him look like that.”

At least his anger was put to good use, Rafe thinks. It was actually worth something for once.

“Give me your phone,” he says.

You obey and watch him add himself into your contacts, a harsh reminder of the lack of a presence you have in his life. You don’t even have each other’s numbers. He texts himself your name.

“Call me if he bothers you,” he says. His promise to watch out for you is like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, comforting you.

“Okay. Thank you.”

You realize this is the longest conversation you’ve held with him since before his mother passed. The day you heard the news, you came to this very house to offer your condolences.

You had knocked on Rafe’s closed bedroom door, telling him it was you and not his father, who you’d only seen be cruel to his eldest child.

Through the door, you promised him you’d do whatever he wanted. Cry together. Go down by the water. Talk. Or even just sit in silence. But all a ten-year-old Rafe offered you was a tearful go away, followed by years of avoiding you and brushing you off.

He hands back your phone and stands, walking away from you.

“Rafe?”

He turns to face you again, his hand on the kitchen counter.

“Could you follow me home?” you ask. “My parents are away and he knows it and… I just want to be sure he’s not waiting for me there.”

Rafe nods. You give him a grateful smile. He can’t return it.

Minutes later, his motorcycle roars as he tails your car down the street. Your house is only two blocks away from his. He couldn’t forget the way if he tried.

He visited your home with his family a few times as a kid, but most of your friendship was spent on the private beach behind his house, running around in the sand, your childish laughs tangling together in the salty air.

You used to bike to his house almost every summer day. He’d meet you by your gate, smiling so big his cheeks hurt, racing on your bikes to his house together. He would accompany you on the way back home, too, always making sure you got home before dark.

He realizes he always felt like he needed to watch out for you, even when he was just a scrawny ten-year-old.

Over the school year, you spent every recess together. Kids used to tease you about liking each other and he loved that you didn’t care because it made him feel like maybe you had a crush on him, too.

You two were inseparable. Until you weren’t.

Rafe tries not to think about it. This is exactly why he shut you out. You remind him too much of the last time he was happy. Before life became unbearable and before he was left with the parent who doesn’t love him.

Thinking about those days feels like trying to fall back asleep into a good dream, all while knowing he’ll plummet into a nightmare.

You pull into your driveway after getting through the remote-powered gate, parking right in front of the door. Rafe parks behind you, killing the engine and taking his helmet off.

He watches you step out of your car. You shield your eyes with your hand as you look at him, perched on his motorcycle in the bright morning sun, his helmet in his hands.

“I didn’t see his car on the street,” you say. “But I’m gonna make sure that the security system is armed.”

Rafe follows, stopping a few feet away from you as you unlock the door, on edge and ready to strike if he needs to.

You’re relieved to hear the familiar beeping that confirms the system is active and wasn’t triggered since the last time you were home. Rafe watches you disappear into the house to punch the code in.

“All good,” you say when you step back out through the front door. You face him as he stands on your doorstep, your chin tipped up to gaze at him.

“You said your parents aren’t here?” he asks. He’s frustrated that you’re alone.

“Away for work,” you say with a defeated shrug. You wish you’d broken up with Ty sooner so they’d be close by during all this stress. “Some things never change.”

Rafe looks down and nods. He remembers how often your parents travelled, leaving you with his family or babysitters while they were away.

Birds chirp in the warm air surrounding you. You stare at Rafe now that you have the opportunity to, up close. There are some freckles and beauty spots you remember. Some that you don’t.

He’s strikingly handsome and you wonder if he knows it. If anyone has ever told him.

“Alright,” Rafe says, stepping back, his way of saying goodbye. He doesn’t look at you again as he paces away.

His mother used to have to call you both into the house multiple times to eat lunch when you’d play on the beach together. You’d have so much fun that you didn’t want to do anything to interrupt it.

But these days, Rafe can hardly wait to get away from you. And even though it’s comforting having him watching out for you, having a string tying you to him again, you wish his coldness didn’t still hurt as much as it does.

(part two)

author’s note thank you to @rafedaddy01 for this idea @diorjadore for this idea!!! ILYSM!!!

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic

2K notes · View notes

djcandiepaws · 2 months ago

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ yandere! crossdresser hcs! ^_^

summary: headcanons for this guy cw: masturbation mention

post it notes: i've been conjuring up in my head after seeing yxami's post!! also this has been sitting in my drafts for like weeks...

yandere!crossdresser who has a little compartment in his room that has a little door, think of the coraline door, but instead of leading to another world its just a very cramped storage room. in the little room if you were to look on the front wall there are numerous photos of you, you taking stuff out of your locker, you jotting notes down in your notebook in your class, you drinking from the water fountain, etc.

yandere!crossdresser who everyday after school, when he's not spending time with you, he goes home and straight to his room to go to the little room. he either adds to his memento whether it'd be a polaroid photo or a lock of your hair, or just sits there admiring your photos and all of the stuff he's managed to take.

yandere!crossdresser who actually noticed during class that you're struggling to keep up with the teacher so obvs he couldnt pass up this chance to help you !!! when the class had ended and everyone was getting their stuff to go to their next class, he tapped your shoulder and let you take photos of his notes and told you if you ever need help with notes or study help just ask him!

when you first saw yandere!crossdresser you were stunned!! how is she real?? like she was almost eerily beautiful, like wayyy too perfect. how come you've never noticed her before? you told her eagerly. wait, she's a boy? the shock on your face was palpable. honestly for a minute you were kinda creeped out.. like wdym you're a boy,,, are you sure you're a boy?... but nonetheless you were thankful for his help!

yandere!crossdresser who eventually becomes your friend after always offering to help with your schoolwork. hes so sweet for offering, how could yall not become friends? he's always so affectionate, sweet, and kind and compassionate. how could you pass up this chance of having such a loving friend? its a dream come true if anything!

yandere!crossdresser who, when at your house for a sleepover, steals some of your belongings. you notice your drawing book is gone. maybe its misplaced? you're usually busy hanging out with him and doing schoolwork so genuinely it could've been misplaced after you haven't used it in a while. though, the stolen items get more and more suspicious. your digicam? "well i havent used it in a while so maybe i just misplaced that too." your favorite phone case? "ok, thats weird.. but maybe i left it in my closet shelves or something." your favorite pair of underwear? "ok, now THAT'S definitely weird."

yandere!crossdresser whom you confide in about the misplaced items and he convinces you its all in your head and they're definitely somewhere around the house. you just haven't found it yet. especially the underwear, you used it all the time when it was out of the wash. he just tells you, maybe the dryer ate it or something.

yandere!crossdresser who sometimes at sleepovers masturbates to your sleeping body. he's usually never this close to you and he can't really help himself!! being so close to you makes him so excited. especially that you feel comfortable enough around him to invite him to your house, let alone fall asleep near him? he's insanely flattered and very excited.

yandere!crossdresser who offers to dress you up when you come to his house! he loves dressing you up like a little barbie doll !! usually he just does your makeup and paints your nails and usually it never goes further than that but sometimes he dresses you up in frilly dresses, tights and underwear with lace on it, and cute puffy sleeves. you look like the sweetest little thing in them!!

yandere!crossdresser who threatens people that gets close to you. if you open up to him about a person you want to be friends with, or someone that is trying to be friends with you, he immediately shuts that shit down within the next like 3 days by threatening or spreading a rumor about you that deters them away from you. can you blame him though? he just wants you all to himself!!

552 notes · View notes

vilentia · 8 months ago

Text

How Kurt would act if he had a crush on you

Kurt Wagner x reader

Kurt would frequently steal glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking, his yellow eyes filled with admiration and curiosity. When you catch him, he quickly looks away, blushing slightly.

To mask his growing feelings, Kurt might start playfully teasing you, making light-hearted jokes or gently poking fun at you in a way that’s always kind and never hurtful.

Despite his usually confident and charming demeanor, Kurt becomes a bit more nervous when you’re around. His usual grace might falter slightly, and he might stumble over his words when talking to you.

Kurt would find small ways to be close to you, like holding doors open, offering you his arm when you’re walking together, or helping you with tasks. Each gesture is subtle but filled with care.

He’d go out of his way to learn about your likes and dislikes. You’d find that he always knows your favorite snack, remembers little details you mention in passing, and surprises you with things that make you smile.

Kurt might try to compliment you, but it often comes out flustered and hurried, as he gets embarrassed about being too forward. Still, his sincerity shines through.

In battle or during missions, Kurt would be extra protective of you. He’s always making sure you’re safe, ready to teleport you out of harm’s way in an instant if necessary.

He’d start inviting you to do things with him, like practicing in the Danger Room, going for walks, or just hanging out. He tries to keep it casual, but it’s clear he enjoys your company.

When you stand close to him, Kurt becomes noticeably more fidgety. His tail swishes more, and his hands might move nervously as he tries to focus on anything other than how near you are.

His teasing would gradually evolve into more subtle flirting. He’d compliment your bravery, your skills, or how you light up a room, always with a mischievous smile that hints at his deeper feelings.

Kurt would often find himself daydreaming about you, lost in thought with a small, dreamy smile on his face. Sometimes, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until someone else points it out.

He would frequently seek out your opinion or approval on things, valuing what you think and using it as a way to connect with you on a deeper level.

Kurt would start opening up to you about his past, his family, and his faith. Sharing these personal stories is his way of letting you into his world, hoping you might see him as more than just a friend.

Though he’d never admit it, Kurt would feel a pang of jealousy if he saw you getting close to someone else. He might withdraw a bit, unsure of how to handle his emotions, but never wanting to show it outright.

After building up the courage, Kurt would eventually confess his feelings in a sweet, heartfelt way. He’d probably be a bit nervous, maybe even teleporting around out of anxious energy, but he’d make sure you know how much you mean to him.

****

It may be a little out of character, but I'm a sucker for slow burns. 😮‍💨

#nightcrawler #nightcrawler headcanon #nightcrawler x reader #nightcrawler x you #nightcrawler fluff #nightcrawler xmen #kurt wagner #kurt wagner headcanon #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner x you #kurt wagner fluff #kurt wagner xmen

1K notes · View notes

deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

Text

Summonings

Ever since Danny Phantom became the Ghost King, he’s had to deal with an endless amount of crap. An eternity of it, actually, and it was constantly causing him unending amount of existential crises and stress.

First, there was the paperwork. Pariah Dark, the incompetent asshole, had left him decades worth of bureaucracy to painfully sift through. He ended up hiring some ghosts with paperwork obsessions to sort some of that out. Who knew ruling the infinite realms would require this much paperwork? He’s lucky each section of the underworld had their own systems to report to their own rulers who, in turn, report to him.

Secondly, there were the Observers. And other ghosts, like his own rogues, but they were the main issues. Eyeball menaces. They protested his appointment, something he actually agreed with. Putting a fifteen year old on the throne is rarely a smart decision. But the Infinite Realm values strength, the only type of currency that matters in the land of the gods and the dead. Danny? Phantom? He’s got strength in spades. With only a few months of being a ghost, Danny had managed to defeat Pariah Dark, who had cowered gods and struck fear into the hearts of ghost heroes.

But Danny hasn’t quite realized the significance of that yet, too focused on the realization that he was about to be in charge of the infinite realms. The Observants, since his reluctant and extremely limited coronation, has been up his ass about doing things the “proper way.”

Danny’s main problem lies with the ridiculous amount of paperwork though. It’s fine. Tedious. But fine.

But if he gets one more fifteen page essay style complaint form about some guy named Constantine, Danny might seriously reconsider donning Dan’s ruthlessness and offing the guy himself. Perhaps grab the man by his shoulders and shake him like a rag doll and ask who the fuck told him it was a good idea to sell his soul out like that? Danny eventually just sent out Skulker to hunt down the contracts and trade minor services for them. He owns most of the soul now, and perhaps he’ll hunt this guy down and force him to do paperwork.

Regardless, paperwork was just often tedious. He’s worked out a system for himself. The halfa, true to his teenage form, had better things to be doing. His homework, for one. Hanging out with his friends and logging in hours for Doomed 2 would be another. But no, he’s here, twirling a pen as he glared down at a stack of forms for a zone expansion. What the fuck does Zeus want to expand his zone for? The current share space of the sky domain is literally a perfect balance with respect towards the other gods. For the love of- Danny slams down a red ‘REJECTED’ stamp on top of the stack. His hair flickers wildly in annoyance, the iced over Crown floating above his head emitting concerning levels of frost. To anyone else but himself, of course.

He then feels a soft tug on his core.

Right. The third most annoying thing about becoming King: the fucking summoning. Danny taps his pen against his lips, clicking it against his fangs, as he considers the summoning circle that calls him. Huh. Desperation. Mildly bloody. Fear. Resignation- ah, fuck it, it’s not like he’s too enthusiastic about staying to do work with the Observers poking around. He takes the summoning, allowing his regalia to overtake his normal hazmat-clad form, and approves the summoning.

Oh hey, Danny thinks he recognizes that ugly ass trenchcoat.

—-

John Constantine has had more than enough practice summoning things that would give people nightmares. But there are things he normally refuses to touch, refuses to even entertain the idea of trying. As usual, desperation made John its bitch and the Justice League’s battered and bruised faces tugged on his shriveled heart.

He’s going to summon something from the Infinite Realms. Oh, but he wasn’t just summoning any old ghost. No, he thought, I’m just going to summon the one being that’s guaranteed to be able to crush our universe without breaking a sweat. Bollocks.

“Is it ready?”

“Untwist your pants, spooky,” John snaps, wishing he had a crate of whiskey he could down. “We’re trying to summon the Ghost King, not your average demon.”

“What do we know about him?” Batman’s gravelly voice demanded.

“Powerful enough to take us all out without even breaking a sweat. Defeated the bloody tyrant who ruled over the Realms last I heard.”

“That’s it?”

“You could ask Deadman, but I heard he’s on the outs with the Infinite Realms on the fact that he’s made of pure magic, not ectoplasm.”

“There’s no guarantee the king will work with us.” Zatanna says, pressing her fingertips together tiredly. She had been at the forefront of the battle and had paid the price for it. “But he’s supposedly more benevolent than his predecessor… and we’re out of options.”

“Hm.”

“Just make sure to shut up and let me do the talking.”

“Hn.”

John rolls his eyes and takes a fortifying breath, something that does not go unnoticed by the League. They all tense up, preparing themselves for a battle. Another one, seeing as they all got their ass kicked by a ghost only ten hours ago. The League is spread thin, running interference to distract the ghost in question and evacuating civilians.

John Constantine started chanting, the glow of his magic lighting up the circle as he spills his blood into the circle.

He waits, heart in his throat, for the summoning to work.

“Is it supposed to take-” Red Robin asks, only to cut himself off as the circle flares once more. Power pulsates outwards from the circle. Frost crackles on the frost resistant floors, spreading outwards as a green portal rips open the fabric of time and space. Long, spindly imitations of a hand grabs the edges of space and pulls, heaving the rest of his celestial body out of the tear in reality. John does not look away. He can not look away, not from the eerie green pallor of the King, not from his torrential white wisps of hair, not from the black-hole like material of his outfit, not from the nebulas and beginnings and endings tailored onto the King’s cape. John could not look away from the ice crown that floated like a bastion of power above the king’s head.

His mouth is dry. What price will he have to pay to save the world? What price will this being demand of him, of the Justice League, to save the world?

John desperately needs that drink.

—-

Oh! He’s in his home dimension! His core purrs at coming home, at the close proximity to his first haunt.

He was expecting cultists, or even the Winchesters again, but this is nice.

The Justice League- summoning him. Sam and Tucker are going to flip when they hear about this.

They’ve been staring at him in silence for a bit now. It was getting awkward.

“Why have you summoned me?” He asks, softening his tone. By their winces, he didn’t get it as well as he thought. Danny grimaces. At the first sign of discomfort though, the man in the trenchcoat- is that fucking Constantine?!- launches into a nerve filled tirade.

“Your, uh, Majesty.” He starts. “One of… One of your subjects is wreaking havoc on the world. We would be extremely grateful if… if you could reign him in?”

Danny’s face sours, only to quickly clear his expression as he realized how much even a small hint of displeasure causes the jumpiness in Constantine and the others.

“To do that, I will have to make a contract with you, seeing as you’ve summoned me.” Danny drawls, letting his overly long digits wave at the summoning circle in question. He could break it, of course, but Danny’s bored and trying to draw this out. He’s not saying he’d take a batch of cookies as payment but that’s exactly what he’s saying.

“The price… you could always have my soul?”

Danny pauses. “Your… soul?”

Oh, he did not say what he just said.

“Yes. My soul.”

Oh, he did.

Fuck it. Danny’s flashbacks of suffering through the reports pushes green into his irises and urgency to his action.

He breaks out of the circle, hands lunging and gripping Constantine’s jaw tightly. Danny ignores the shouts of alarm as he allows the thrown weapons to pass through him.

John Constantine is panicking now, struggling in the air as Danny lifts him an inch off the floor in agitation.

Good.

“Your soul, little wizard? The one you’ve split eight ways till the thirtieth of February? The one that caused,” he tightens his grip, no doubt bruising the man. “An insane amount of paperwork that I’ve had to suffer through. Your soul, John Constantine?”

Danny hisses his name. The man makes a warbling noise that Danny takes as acknowledgement. Danny bats away the weak spell Zatanna sends at him with a hand.

“You’ll find that I am in the possession of most of your soul contracts. To simply put,” he grins, teeth made of dying stars on display. “I own your soul. My soul, now.”

He drops the wizard who collapses onto his knees to stare up at him in horror, eyes flicking between the circle that was meant to contain him and Danny, who is very much not contained. He crouches down- something necessary but disjointed as he’s not used to this taller form- and speaks to Constantine in a slow, dead serious, drawl.

“If you ever sell your soul again, you and I are going to have issues. Is that clear, John Constantine?”

“Uh- yeah, yes, yes, your majesty.”

Patting his cheek condescendingly, Danny gets up and sighs, stress relieved. He’s starting to feel bad, though, so he allows his form to ripple back to his normal teenage Phantom self.

“Well, it’s not like anyone will buy it, since they know they’ll have to go against me.” He chirps, flipping 180 from his terror inducing eldritch voice. “So, what’ll you pay me to get rid of whatever ghost you’ve got?”

“…. Nothing?”

Red Robin holds out a bag, eyebags betraying his exhaustion. “I’ve got fifty dollars and a bag of cookies.”

Phantom beams at him. “Throw in a couple of autographs and you’ve got a deal.”

“That’s- yeah, okay.” Red Robin says, inching forward cautiously to hand him the bag.

“Great. I’ll be back for them later. You can call me Phantom. ‘Your Majesty’ gets annoying after a while.”

“Thank- thank you for your mercy, Your- Phantom.” Wonder Woman says.

“Sure. Make sure this idiot doesn’t make any more deals with demons while I’m out, yeah?”

With that, Danny Phantom grabs the bag of cookies and fifty dollars and flies through the wall to do his job.

John slams his head onto the space station floor.

“Fuck.”

—-

Danny: lol I’ll do it for the shits and giggles

Constantine and the League: he’s terrifying, a bastion of pure power and authority

Red Robin, Young “we commit war crimes bc it gets shit done” Justice leader and fellow gremlin: he’d probably do it for cookies. I would.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #john constantine #batman #Bruce Wayne being tired af #ghostly shenanigans #bamf Danny phantom #ghost king danny

4K notes · View notes

puck-luck · 10 months ago

Text

change-up | luke hughes

warnings: unprotected p in v, creampie, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, squirting, dirty talk, praise praise praise, fingering & masturbation, references to prior & future hookups, hookup culture, TW: hinge😩, mentions of size difference pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader summary: “because of how shy luke was when he first met reader, she thinks that he’s going to be inexperienced in bed and she‘ll to have to take the lead..but really lukey absolutely ruins her”, “could I please request luke Hughes smut where he loves being so much bigger than you”, “LOVEEDD the luke hughes one def write more dom stuff” wc: 4382

“Do you, maybe, want to go back to mine?” Luke asks quietly, his lips a mere nudge against the shell of your ear. Even in the loud bar, his voice cuts through the chatter like a flash of light.

You’d only met Luke earlier that night, a Hinge date gone right for you and your best friend. When Luke had invited you out to the bar he was at with some of his teammates, your best friend had jumped to point out that this could be your Kylie Kelce moment– you had to go and meet your Jason, even though Luke didn’t resemble the football player at all. Not that you minded.

You consider his words– Luke’s arm is thrown over your shoulder comfortably. His body is warm against yours. He’s been pretty shy all night, quiet enough that you felt like you had to control the conversation, but while Luke was in the bathroom, one of his buddies had revealed that that was normal for Luke. He was a quiet boy around new people– it didn’t mean he didn’t like you.

Clearly, it didn’t mean he didn’t like you. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t be inviting you back to his apartment. You’re not a fool. You know what that means.

Regardless, you agree. “Sure,” you say with a smile.

Luke returns the smile, leaning over you to gesture towards the bartender. He closes his tab, which houses both his and your drinks. You each had only had two drinks, so you’re feeling tipsy, but not drunk enough to stop what’s about to happen.

Once Luke has closed out, he guides you to his car and opens the door in a gentlemanly way for you. The ride to his home is silent save for the country music playing from the radio. Luke’s hand rests on your knee, a weight that has you squirming.

As shy as he is, you’ve come to realize that Luke’s love language is easily physical touch. He’s been sweet when he speaks with you, and he paid for all of your drinks, which kept words of affirmation and gift giving in the running for a while, but he’s kept a hand on you all night.

He had seemed hesitant to do so, playing it safe by touching your arm or your knee or your shoulder. When you hadn’t shrugged him off, but rather presented him with a smile and a lean into his heat, Luke had become more sure with it.

You don’t know anything about his sex life or how experienced or inexperienced he is, but you expect that you’ll have to do the same thing in bed. You’ll have to reassure him that yes, you actually want to do this, and you actually like this. He’ll want to make sure he’s being good for you, because he’s the sweetest, but if you’re honest, you’re a little disappointed that you’ll have to take the lead.

One of the reasons why you had matched with Luke on Hinge, aside from how cute he was, was that he looked like an athlete. You’ve always been someone who likes to be overpowered a bit, liking someone bigger than you, and Luke looked like he could throw you around easily. You wanted him to do so, but that just doesn’t seem like it’s in the cards tonight, and you can accept that. You’ll hook up with someone else who will toss you around eventually– but Luke is too pretty and too kind to pass up.

When he pulls into the garage and parks, Luke rounds the car and opens your door for you. He leads you by the hand into his apartment. Your purse slips down your arm and, once inside the apartment, Luke takes it from you and hangs it on a hook near his front door.

The apartment is still dark and you find yourself distracted trying to look at his furniture through the shadows. Giving up, you turn back to face Luke with a smile on your face.

Shockingly, he’s already moving toward you.

Luke pushes you against the wall, his hands on your hips. He’s kissing you, swallowing your noise of surprise. You’re frozen against him for just a moment, caught off guard by his insistent movements and confident grip on your sides. You melt into his touch when his presence finally registers, the catalyst being Luke’s fingers shifting to tug at the belt loops on your jeans. You place your forearms on his shoulders, crossing your wrists behind his head.

Luke pulls your hips against his, pressing into you with his growing length. He’s leaning over you, causing your shoulders and head to rest against the wall while your back and hips arch into him. Smoothly, he steps forward and moves one of his hands so he’s bracketing your head.

His tongue flexes when he enters your mouth, his muscle sliding against your own. You melt even further against him, moaning against his lips. You sag against the wall and Luke’s strong hands catch you, holding you upright.

His fingers roam along your skin, eventually resting on the swell of your ass. He squeezes your cheeks harshly, grunting in appreciation as your bottom fills his large hands. Luke lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, sitting prettily with your clothed core barely brushing his cock. You grind down against him, and Luke’s mouth curves in a smile, lips still touching your own.

“Eager,” he mumbles, sounding smug.

“Happily surprised,” you correct, words muffled and interrupted by your kisses. “I thought you’d be shy.”

“Mm, not when we’re alone,” Luke hums, holding you with one hand around your waist. He starts to march down the dark hallway, pushing open his bedroom door with a bang. “Not when I’m so close to getting what I want.”

Luke gently lays you on his bed, hands splayed across your back. He’s still kissing you, adamant and consistent. Now, he’s got gravity on his side. His body is covering your own, trapping you against the soft mattress. A soft curse leaves your mouth, filling Luke’s. You’re sharing the air between yourselves, aching for the other person.

“What do you want?” You ask, one of your hands finding his curls and toying with the strands.

Luke groans, parting from you to nuzzle against your neck as you continue to scratch against his scalp. He mouths over your neck messily, his tongue painting your skin like long brush strokes across a canvas.

“Want to mark you up,” Luke mutters, nipping at your neck. He sucks the fleshy skin at the base of your neck between your clavicles. “I want you to remember this night.”

You moan, curling a hand along his collar and pulling at the t-shirt adorning his body in an entirely unnecessary way, in your opinion. You expose his collarbone, sharp and smooth all at once, but you don’t get to reap the rewards.

Luke instead just chuckles and bats your hand away, capturing it in his own. He presses your wrist into the mattress above your head, exposing you further. “I want to make sure you think about me for weeks.” Luke feeds the promise to you with a swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip and a tiny nibble along the same path. “That every time you get yourself off, you think about how my fingers would be better than your own, or that my cock would fill you better than any toy you own, or any other boy you find.”

You knew that this would be a hook-up sort of thing, nothing more serious because Luke’s Hinge profile clearly stated he wasn’t looking for anything long term, but his possessive tone fuels a fire in you that has you whining and tugging his hair.

He shifts your hand to join the other, his fingers gripping both of your wrists while his other hand starts to explore your body. He dances over the curves of your breasts, along your elongated stomach. Your ribs are prominent and your stomach is flatter with your back against the bed– and Luke touches your skin like you’re precious to him. For a first night together, you already feel so seen.

After caressing your skin, Luke pulls your shirt up and bundles the fabric near the base of your neck, revealing your little lacy bralette to him. He licks along the band, going from your neck down the V of your chest, then back up to your other shoulder. You watch his nose bump against your curves and your jaw slackens a bit with the possibilities that are running through your head.

You’d give anything to get his mouth on your clit, already swollen and pulsing with faux-lightning shocks from each of Luke’s touches.

“Eat me out,” you say, a push in the right direction. Boys like when girls speak their mind, right?

Luke stills, his lips hovering above your sternum. You watch him smirk, then resume his kissing, sweet wet pecks marking the space where your breasts meet. “Lost your manners?” He finally asks, pulling away from your body to remove your shirt. He leaves it tangled along your wrist, wrapping it a few times and tucking the end into the band of your watch to secure the fabric in place.

You pout petulantly and Luke slides off the bed, kneeling between your legs that are bent over the side of the bed. He runs a finger along the seam of your jeans, taking extra care to rub his knuckle over your clothed entrance. You keen and he draws his hand up, resting it on your mound with his thumb stationary and heavy against your clit.

“Baby, I want to,” Luke assures you, his thumb lifting up and patting your clit a few times, causing you to jolt. “But I can’t until you ask me nicely.” He starts to rub your clothed clit, up and down in slow movements. He’s peering up at you with wide eyes, blinking like he’s innocent even though he’s driving you crazy.

“Please?” You try, your voice a little squeaky.

A tiny smile on his face, Luke tilts his head at you. “You can do better than that,” he says, shifting forward to plant a kiss where his thumb rested. “Give it a second try.”

“Please eat me out, Luke,” you say, putting another pout on your face for good measure.

“Better,” Luke teases, trailing off. He reaches for your zipper, dragging it down. He inches the denim down your legs, revealing the panties that you’re practically soaking with your slick. They match your bralette– a purposeful decision that doesn’t do unnoticed by Luke. He thumbs over your clit again, then dips lower to flick over the wet spot staining the fabric. “Keep going. I want you to beg.”

He removes your pants with a kiss to the inside of your knee. His hands move to your thighs, feeling up the skin, keeping you warm in the chilled apartment. His breath passes over your core as he switches sides and you ache for him. It breaks the floodgates and you give him exactly what he wants, falling into that submissive role you’re able to fill so well.

“I need to feel your mouth on me, Luke. I know it’ll be so good– I know you’ll make me feel so good. Fuck, Luke, I want to come on your tongue. Taste me, please, please fuck me with your tongue.”

Luke’s crooked grin returns, his teeth peeking out from behind his lips and glinting at you. “Such dirty words for such a pretty girl,” he teases, but he hooks his fingers along the crotch of your panties and tugs them to the side, revealing your wet folds. He flexes his tongue, pointing it into a solid spear that he uses to spread your lower lips and locate your entrance. “Let’s see how fast I can make you come,” Luke murmurs before diving in and lathering your clit in a wet kiss.

He pushes your legs apart, using his strong hands to pin your hips to the bed and keep them there. You want to wiggle out from under him and grind against his face, but Luke forces you to relinquish control with his size and strength.

It’s just what you wanted. Whining and tugging at the fabric around your wrists (easily removable, although you choose not to do so), you relax against the mattress and let Luke have his way with you.

He loves it, eating you out like he could do this for hours, like he could die happy between your leg. He’s moaning against you and massaging praise into your skin, all while licking every inch of your cunt. He fucks his tongue into you, he spits along your folds and watches the saliva drip down the crack of your behind before scooping it back up with his tongue and closing his lips around your clit. He leaves you wetter and wetter each time he pulls away, admiring his handiwork from a distance with a slack jaw before locating his next target and assaulting it with his tongue and gentle scrapes of his teeth. The first time he swept his bottom teeth against your clit, you flinched, but it quickly became a moan for more.

You’ve always been a glutton, addicted to toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

It surprises you that Luke is the same way– although he would prefer to inflict the sensation than receive it. You align perfectly.

The sharp press of his tongue inside you draws a litany of noises from your mouth and it reinvigorates Luke’s efforts, with him flicking the muscle as far as he can within your cunt. He clutches at your skin, reaching under you to envelop both of your ass cheeks in his palms and lift your pussy to meet his face. There’s no room for reprieve, no space between you, and Luke is bullying your core with inconsistent nudges of his nose to your clit.

“Luke, my clit,” you beg, chest heaving with how badly you yearn for your release. “Please.”

“You can come without that,” Luke replies, licking over the bundle once in consolation before returning to your hole, where you’re leaking fluids. Slick, saliva, and your impending orgasm all find their way onto Luke’s tongue, running down his chin and moistening the bed beneath you. You can feel the sheets growing wet beneath you, but you don’t care. Luke is making you feel even better than you imagined he would.

You come over his tongue with a series of moans, bringing your still-tied hands down to his hair and tugging at his locks. Luke flicks over clit with quick kitten licks, only stopping when you’re crying out from oversensitivity

Luke kisses up your body, capturing your nipples between his lips over the lace fabric of your bralette, leaving the peaks pointed and cold when his mouth travels further north.

He brings his lips to yours, ravishing the plush curves until they’re red and bruised. All the while, Luke mumbles praises to you until they blur together and you’re arching your back to feel his torso against yours again.

“You wanna go again?” Luke checks, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Ready to give me another one?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding and knocking your nose against his. He leans in and gives you a proper Eskimo kiss before pecking you one last time.

Luke uses his strong hands to maneuver you the way he wants– chest pressed into the bed, ass pulled up and flush with his groin as he kneels behind you. He snaps the band of your bralette against your shoulderblade, then kneads the skin of your hips.

“Close your eyes, babydoll,” Luke commands in a gentle voice. “I want you to feel this, just focus on feeling me.”

He rolls his hips against your behind, his cock still clothed but poking at the fabric like it’s trying to find its mark and sink into your heat. He pulls you against him and you wiggle your hips, obeying his command and closing your eyes. Your t-shirt fell from your wrists during the repositioning, so you clutch freely at the pillow under your head with one hand and hold your breast with the other. You squeeze the skin, moaning at the pleasure.

Luke brings your attention back to him with a sharp spank, making you yelp and clench down with both of your hands, scrambling for something to ground you. Luke chuckles and spanks you again, harder this time and on your other cheek.

“Can’t wait to see this ass bounce,” Luke announces, smirking obviously even though you can’t see it. “I’m gonna make sure it’s pretty and pink while I fill your pussy up.”

If your eyes weren’t shut, they’d be rolling in your head at his words. You’re helpless, reduced to a moaning mess beneath Luke.

You had no idea that the night would turn out like this, having fully expected to push him down and ride him until he came inside of you because he just couldn’t take the pleasure any longer. The tables have turned– now you’re the one leaking beneath him, your hole spread open from his thorough meal and positively waiting for him.

Luke disappears from behind you to remove his shorts, you assume. You keep your eyes closed and you hold your position, hoping your obedience will result in a reward.

His voice washes over you, warming you like he’s still draped over your shoulder back at the bar.

“Keep yourself full for me while I grab something, eh?” Luke asks, a prodding question that you’re scrambling to fulfill before he can even finish his sentence.

Your middle two fingers slide into your hole, a wet squelch pushing a breath of a laugh out of Luke from his distance. You grind against the heel of your hand, spreading your knees for more leverage.

“Good girl,” Luke coos, making his way back onto the bed. He’s behind you once again, naked, and you wish you could open your eyes and sneak a peek at his cock. You want to see how well endowed he is, feeling him brush against your thigh before a line of spit drips down your crack and crawls toward your hole.

You fuck yourself on your fingers, hips rocking back. There are whimpers and whines filling the room, sounding needy and desperate for more, and it takes you a minute to realize that the words are muffled into the pillow, falling from your mouth. Biting down on the pillow to silence yourself, you curl your fingers inside yourself, hoping to reach your g-spot. In this position, you fall just short.

Luke’s index finger traces over the valley of your fingers, nearing your entrance. He’s silent, his moves calculated, and his index finger presses into you. He joins your middle and ring finger, his index finger reaching your insides in a way that has you keening. You can feel his fingertips against your nailbeds, then Luke wiggles his finger in further.

You feel like you actually drip onto the bed when he pets over your g-spot, the spot that you couldn’t find on your own. Your knees are wide and your hips are slowly coming lower and lower. Your body is defaulting to the position in which you’ve gotten off so many times– hips flush against the bed, clit rubbing against your palm as you clench down on your own fingers.

Luke uses his knee to bring your ass back up to its previous height, swatting at your flesh when you let out a complaint at the loss. Your clit is feeling neglected, practically calling out for pleasure, but the feeling of your fingers– and Luke’s– inside you is too good to take away.

So Luke does it for you. He removes his finger from your heat and digs under your knuckles, removing your digits from their wet home. The loss of contact comes with a devastating empty feeling and Luke soothes you with a cooed praise when you express your discontent.

He solves the problem by slapping his thick cockhead against your open hole, resting it there until you’re squirming against him and pleas are leaving you with increasing intensity and higher pitch.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” Luke murmurs, pinching your skin as a reprimand. “You’ve been so good, listening to me so well. I’m going to reward you, don’t worry. Let me take care of you.”

He inches his cock inside your pussy achingly slow. You can feel every inch of him, every vein rubbing against your walls. You can feel the precum leaking from his slit and mixing with your own wetness. His tip finally nudges at your cervix, kissing the opening with another blurt of precum, and you ache for Luke to fill you up. You wish you were facing him so that he could drop a line of spit onto your tongue in a similar way.

When Luke starts to move, drawing himself out of you then forcing his way back in, all images disappear from your mind. His cock is all you can focus on– the warmth, how it’s pulsing inside of you, how it’s stretching your hole even though you had three fingers inside of it just minutes ago.

Luke is consistent, fucking into you with hard and sure thrusts that leave you moaning. A puddle of drool is pooling on the pillow and your mouth is nearly constantly open, your tongue dry and breaths ragged. Your noises continue in their high-pitched tone, spurring Luke on. He pounds your pussy, ruining it for everyone else.

Luke was right. You’d be thinking about him for weeks to come.

He has you shrieking with each slap to your ass, the skin growing hot and becoming more red with each swat. You had no idea that you could be so loud in bed– you’ve normally got a handle on yourself. Normally, you’re not so wet that each thrust results in a pornographic sound of skin meeting skin.

Luke is in a league all of his own.

“So tight,” he groans. “‘M gonna come, baby.”

“Come in me,” you beg. “Fuck, Luke, come in me.”

“I will,” he promises. “I want you to come first.”

Your abdomen is tight, burning with the need to release. You feel like you could explode and the thought pops into your head– you’d never been able to before, not with another man nor when fucking yourself, but you bet you could squirt now.

“Can I touch?” You ask, desperate. “Please, wanna touch my clit. Wanna come for you. Wanna be good. Please, Luke, tell me I can.”

“Go on,” he encourages. “Let me feel you.”

It’s like an out of body experience. You have control of your hands, but your fingers feel foreign as they find your clit and start to rub frantic circles over the bundle. Your chest is snug against the bedsheets. You spread your legs even further, needing the space to keep yourself open and feel even wider. Luke notices and loops a hand under your thigh, lifting the leg and holding it up. He’s able to keep you balanced, able to keep you steady as your fingers slide over your dripping cunt.

His grunts and moans spur you on, your back arching. His tip finds your g-spot and abuses it, knocking the air out of you with each bump.

“Luke,” you whine, his name elongated on your tongue.

“I’m here, baby, let go.”

He’s reassuring and calm, so sure behind you and panting. He drapes himself over your back, kissing behind your ear.

It’s the smooth brush of his lips that sends you over the edge. Your vision, already black, turns into a staticky void that you fall down like you’re skydiving.

Luke is your parachute, fucking you through the spray of your orgasm and releasing his own seed inside of you. He fills you up with his warmth, fucking you until you’re sagging on the bed and breathing hard, barely able to move. Luke drags his cock out of your cunt and brings some of his come with it, although he promptly plugs you with his fingers and a kiss once he’s turned you over onto your back.

His fingers are mostly still inside you, slowly pumping in and out in a way that isn’t meant to derive pleasure. He simply wants to feel you. His kisses are soft and sweet, soothing you and bringing you back down to Earth.

Eventually, you regain control of your limbs. You shift one of your legs over Luke’s hips and cuddle close to him, rolling your hips against his finger. Your tongue slides against his, tasting your first orgasm on his lips.

The moment dies slowly. You’re both tired, ready to sleep. Luke draws his fingers out of your entrance, pecking your lips one last time.

“Go pee, baby,” he tells you. “You’re not getting a UTI on my account. I’ll get some PJs for you while you’re gone, then we can take a shower in the morning after I serve you some breakfast in bed.”

“Mmm,” you hum, beaming. You lean up to kiss Luke again. “How’d you get so good at aftercare? Lots of experience?”

“Just want to make sure you’re satisfied,” Luke replies, fondly smiling at you when you roll away and patter towards his ensuite bathroom. He laughs a little as you cringe, the mixture of come seeping out of your hole and dripping down your thighs.

“How about I take a quick shower now and we’ll discuss that breakfast in bed when I’m done?” You tease, already pulling back his shower curtain and turning the nozzles to find your optimum heat.

“Don’t pee in my shower,” Luke calls, pushing the covers off the bed and gathering the wet sheets to throw in the wash. He’ll put new sheets on the bed while you’re cleaning yourself.

“I’m not!” You deny, affronted. “How dare you assume such a thing?”

The last thing you hear before stepping into Luke’s shower is his cheeky, throaty laugh. You fail to bite back the smile that comes with it.

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#luke hughes #luke hughes smut #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #lh43 #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hockey smut

2K notes · View notes

sunfairiess · 5 months ago

Text

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝, 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 | 𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

tropes: 3rd person narration | soft boy jj | best friends to lovers | comfort | fluff

synopsis: reader’s battling against anxiety, and during one of her anxiety attacks jj’s there to help her.

warnings: heavy depiction of anxiety, anxiety attack.

wc: 2.1k

writing this as someone who suffers from anxiety and deals with it on her own, was really emotional; if you find yourself in this position too, please don’t be afraid to ask for help. mental health matters <3

song rec: breathin - ariana grande ♡

everyone fights their own monsters, some are physically visible, others are perceived. some people have to fight against their families, some against their friends. but one of the biggest and worst challenges, was to fight against your own head.

everyone is tormented by their own monsters. hers is called anxiety, the beast who had ruined her life.

at school, her grades started to drop because she was just so tired all the time she couldn’t even bring herself to open the textbook; half of the foods she used to love were cut out of her daily routine because she would get constant heartburn and stomach problems to the point where she wasn’t able to consume a full meal for days.

when it came to sleeping, she couldn’t fall asleep because her mind was always racing with awful thoughts. what if i don’t wake up tomorrow? do my friends hate me because i didn’t go out with them today? is my heart supposed to beat so fast? my back is hurting, is this a health condition? am i going to be alone forever? usually she would go on for hours, reaching three or four in the morning, until she either cried herself to sleep or she almost passed out because of how tired she was.

going out of the house became hard. she became afraid of taking public transportation because what if someone tried to rob her or kidnap her. she couldn’t take long walks anymore because what if something happens and i’m alone. she even had to stop going to parties because she couldn’t stand big and loud crowds of people anymore.

her mental pain became physical: constantly having back problems, her chest and throat always felt too tight to breathe, her body tingling out of nowhere all the time.

it would’ve been a lie to say all of this didn’t reflected onto her relationship with others; she never told anyone about her own problems, not that they could help anyway. so when she started to hang out less with her friends, she always had to lie. i’m grounded, i can’t go out. sorry, i have too much homework to do. i have the flu, i can’t come. my dad needs my help, i’ll come next time. eventually though, she would run out of excuses, and that’s how she ended up for the first time in a month at the château, surrounded by her best friends.

“girl, we haven’t see you in forever, i almost forgot your face.” kiara joked, nudging her a bit with her elbow.

“i know, i’m so sorry guys. past month has been crazy.” which wasn’t a lie per se, she had spent the last weeks having constant anxiety and panic attacks. in the morning, in the afternoon, at night. and every single time she felt like she was about to die, the impending fear of doom creeping inside her. it really started to become unbearable, to the point where she didn’t even notice how many days would go by.

“well you’re here now, that’s what matters.” pope chimed in, giving her a smile. somehow that made her feel a little bit more lighter, knowing that her friends didn’t actually hated her. anxiety made her overthink every little detail of her life.

even though she tried to appear relaxed the whole night, she still felt like she was being chocked by an imaginary hand, pressing harder every time she breathed. she was grateful that none of her friends noticed the stiffness in her body, it would’ve been to hard to explain everything.

at least she thought no one noticed. jj noticed, he always did. he would observe every little detail about her. and from the moment she stepped into the château he hadn’t been able to keep his gaze off of her, not even for a second. he missed her. he hadn’t seen her in weeks and he had become restless. day and night he would think about her, what she was doing, if she missed him, if she too dreamed about him like he did about her. that’s how it felt being in love with your best friend.

jj knew something was up with her. she was always full of joy and energy, but bow it seemed like she had lost her spark. he knew there was something wrong, especially when he saw her fidgeting with her rings, gazing anxiously around her. he knew something was wrong when she got up, excusing herself from the conversation, and almost running to the bathroom.

following her wasn’t probably too good of an idea, but jj was impulsive, so he did it anyway. amen to that, he would’ve dealt with the consequences later, like his confused friends asking him what the heck was going on.

as he entered the bathroom, she was sat on the toilet. her face so pale you would think she was about to pass out.

he sees her as she stares into the wall, her eyes fixed in front of her, full of fear. he notices as she bring her right hand to her throat, sliding slowly down her chest and pressing hard. he hears her breathing going faster and heavier, like she couldn’t catch a full breath. her hands shaking as she tries to ground herself and not slip into the arms of her anxiety.

jj had no idea of what an anxiety attack looked like, he had been fortunate enough to never had one, but he always thought they had to feel awful for whoever got them. but seeing her, his sweet little sunshine, shaking all over the place and being surrounded by a cloud of darkness around her, made his heart break into a thousand millions pieces. he wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how to do it in the right way. he just wanted to do something, and so he did.

“sunshine, hey. baby, look at me. c’mon lemme see your pretty eyes.” he kneeled in front of her, placing both of his hands on her knees and gently rubbing his thumbs against them.

everything was spinning around her, thoughts racing with all the emotions she bottled up and all the fears she always had. she couldn’t stop them, it felt like she was going to be swallowed up by a black vortex. but then she heard his voice, it was like hearing an angel talking. her gaze slowly shifted from the white wall to his eyes, his gorgeous blue eyes, usually shining like stars when they looked at her, but now they were the depiction of concern. she felt a sharp feeling of guiltiness running through her your veins, because the last thing she wanted was to make him sad.

“that’s it, baby. you are so pretty, my pretty girl.” he gave her a soft smile, slowly moving his hands from her knees to her thighs. he wanted to pull her close and hug her, but one time— and thank god for him and the one time jj actually listened to what he said— pope told him that when people had anxiety or panic attacks, most of the time they didn’t wanted to be touched. so, instead of being the usual impulsive jj he was with everyone, he took baby steps with her, not wanting to scare her or make her even more anxious.

her breath was slowly calming down, but the aching in your chest and the lump in her throat were still there, still feeling like she was going to suffocate any moment now, but jj pulled her out of her thoughts again.

“alright pretty girl, i need you to do something for me, ‘kay? i need you to take deep breaths with me, i know it’s hard but i’m here. you’re safe, i won’t let anything happen to you. breathe with me, baby.” his voice was so sweet and gentle, she actually thought she was going to cry because of how soft he was speaking to her and how he was trying to handle the situation. she nodded slightly, following his example as he took one deep breath and then exhaled. one deep breath and exhaled. inhale and exhale. and they went on, and on, until the tension she felt before started to leave her body, making her shoulders and back relax and her hands stop shaking.

jj didn’t say anything this time, he just looked as she regained consciousness of her surroundings. even though the attack was gone, it usually took hours before she could actually calm down completely. it was hard and she always handled them alone, but this time having him with her felt like a blessing from heaven.

feeling like she had just been pulled out of a dark hole, she launched herself into his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. he let out a sigh as soon as he felt her flesh touch his own, his arms reaching for her hips and his face buried deep into the crook of her neck. they stayed like this for a almost twenty minutes. he only pulled her in tighter, not wanting to let go of her because he knew as long as she was into his arms, she was safe.

30 minutes later they were laying next to each other in the hammock, her head resting on his chest, the sound of his heart beating calming her, like a lullaby. his hands were both placed on her back, rubbing small circles against the thin fabric of her shirt.

jj really didn’t want to break the peacefulness that surrounded them, but he had to ask her why she never told him anything. he felt like he was failing at being her best friend. “why did you never tell me?” his voice was low, sounding almost like a whisper.

“i- i don’t know. i didn’t want to bother anyone, didn’t want to be a burden.” jj stopped moving his hands on her back, instantly lifting his head to look at her.

“okay, know that i’m not mad, but, firstly, i’m not anyone. i’m your best friend, you would never be a burden to me.” his hands moved to her cheeks, lifting her face. “i’ve been through hell and back these past weeks. not seeing you, not talking to you for more than 5 minutes on the phone, not touching you. it nearly killed me, y/n. i was always on the edge of a breakdown, constantly snapping at everyone because i didn’t know how you were doing. were you safe? were you alright? not knowing made me go insane.”

he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. he was pouring his heart out, which he never do, but he just felt like he had to do it now. “and i’m not saying this to make you feel guilty, that’s the last thing i want. i just wish for you to know how much you mean to me. you’re the most important person in my life, you’re my best friend, my ride or die, my partner in crime. you- you’re my first love, and hopefully you’ll be my last one too.”

her eyes went wide at his words, and honestly she thought she heard him wrong. “jj, what- what are you saying?”

“i know the night wasn’t perfect, but please just lemme say this now because i don’t know when i’ll get the same courage again. i love you, y/n. i love everything about you. i love that weird sound you make when you laugh too much, i love how your eyes shine when you’re talking about things you like, i love how after surfing your hair become all curly. hell, i love even the things you do that should piss me off, like when you throw away my joint because i’ve been smoking too much or when you scream at me because i got in a fight with some kooks again. i love you so much it physically hurts.”

her eyes were watery now, tears threatening to coming out in flows. she didn’t know what to say. because seriously, what do you say to someone who sees you as the most incredible human being, when you can’t even love a quarter of yourself?

you say nothing. but you can do something.

that’s why, in the quietness of the night, under the stars and while she was feeling at peace for the first time in weeks, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against it.

she wasn’t magically healed, she still had things to deal with. but now, she wasn’t on her own anymore.

#outer banks #jj obx #obx #obx1 #obx4 #jj maybank #jj outer banks #obx season 4 #jj x y/n #jj maybank obx #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj x you #jj x reader

699 notes · View notes