#wanted to write something as well but I feel like this would have it rotting in the drafts for months then

[captain-huggy-bear]

Treat You Right

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: unwanted advances, men not taking no for an answer, Clayton's involved in a fight.

Summary: You're not dating Clayton Keller, but there's one thing he can't stand and that's a guy not treating you with respect...turns out he hates it enough to fight a guy in a bar after a game.

Notes: All I have to say is i'm in my Clayton brain rot era.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It's a normal night or it starts that way. Being friends with a bunch of pro-athletes means you're often dragged out after home game wins to whatever bar they decide is best that night. Tonight it's Sunny's, a common choice for the Utah Hockey Club because of the pool table, dart board and the fact that most of the people who come in are old middle age men or contractors. Guys, who might ask for an autograph but not the usual screaming crowd that make it impossible for them to have a drink or two.

You never really had being friends with the lot of them on your bucket list, but Michael had met you when he'd taken his cats to the vets and you'd been there with your own, a fat black moggie called Gremlin who'd fallen in love with Ranger. From that point on cat dates had been a thing because in Kess' words 'you can't separate true love', you weren't entirely sure whether Gremlin loved Ranger or just wanted to lick the other cat bald.

Either way the moment you became friends with Kess was the moment you became friends with the entire team, suddenly you were being asked to events, invited to home games and the celebratory drinks after. It was nice, for the most part you felt like you were their sister, someone for them to look after but also mock, just as much as you made fun of them. You had a little community, a gang, a group where you belonged even if you weren't actually on the team.

The exception to that rule being Clayton Keller...you definitely did not want to feel like Clayton Keller's sister.

It was bound to happen, that you'd have a crush on at least one of the team. It wasn't really your fault, and well, Clay had this way of treating you, all soft and sweet and like a girl, that had you flushing under his attention and preening at any compliment he gave you. You were almost certain it was a one-sided crush doomed to go nowhere and leave you pining after the captain until you settled for some mediocre guy in finance. He was just so nice to you, so sweet.

Still, Clay was half the reason you'd agreed to come out to Sunny's that night. Determined to spend some time with or at least around him. You'd even gone home to change after the game into a nice dress before coming back out again because maybe, just maybe, this would be the night that Clayton Keller realised you were the girl he wanted.

You're waiting for your coca cola at the bar, leaning on your forearms and watching the room from over your shoulder. Kess and Dylan were playing a game of pool in the corner, Kess appearing to be losing based on the glare he was sending Dylan's way. The rest of the guys were sat around their usual table, beers in hand laughing and joking. Your eyes find Clayton like he's a magnet, he's smirking at something O'Brian's said, Tuna probably making some stupid dirty joke or telling a story at the expense of Kess.

"Hey, pretty..." You're pulled out of your people watching by a slurred drawl far too close to your ear for comfort. Your eyes shift to the man next to you, who might have been considered handsome if he wasn't staring at your boobs so blatantly that you suddenly understood what a tasty pastry felt like in a patisserie window. It wasn't particularly flattering.

You shift away from him as much as you can without appearing rude because he'd managed to somehow sneak up on you and get within inches of your ear. Something you're sure he thought was seductive but just made your shoulders tighten and your body tense.

"Hi." You try to keep your tone short, not wanting to encourage the man but hating to feel like you're being unnecessarily rude as well.

"Can I buy you a drink, baby?"

"I'm good, thanks." You gesture at the soft drink your bartender just placed in front of you, thankful that this is your cue to leave and return to the safety of a group of hockey players.

Unbeknownst to you in that moment Marino is nudging Kells with his elbow, chin gesturing in your direction. You look uncomfortable, the way you're shifting away from the man leering at you, practically leaning over you, says enough. Every time you shift away from him, he shifts closer and it's clear to Clayton that you'd rather be anywhere else.

He can't help it, the way it makes his hackles rise, the way his fist clenches tight around his beer bottle as he takes another swig, forcing himself to be cool, to just let you handle it for a moment. It's not like you're dating, it's not like he has any right to storm over there and maybe he's wrong...maybe you're interested in the guy leering down at you like you're a piece of meat. Maybe he's more your type than Clay is.

He doesn't really blame the guy for showing interest. You're beautiful, always, but...there's something about the way you look tonight. Maybe it's that your dress accentuates your hips or the fact that the colour makes your skin look like its glowing...or maybe Clayton is just a little weak for you. That's not exactly a new revelation for him. He's been weak for you since day one.

"Seriously, baby, that's not a real drink, let me get you a real drink."

"I'm good." You stress your point this time, snatching your drink back from the man who just tried to take it off you and straightening to walk back to the guys. Any pretence of politeness dropped because you don't have to deal with this and you aren't going to.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" It's a shift in attitude that you should have expected, you've seen it before, but you don't expect the hand that wraps around your wrist to stop you walking away, your drink spilling as you're jerked to a stop. His hand is tight, uncomfortable so and the situation has gone from irritating to frightening, fear running down you're spine because this strange man has his hands on you.

Your eyes find Clay's almost instinctively, wide and scared but he's already out of his seat and shoving people out of the way with short, sharp apologies as he goes. It's not like he's alone either, half the team are now looking your way, waiting to see if their captain needs any help or not. Looking to see if they need to also step in.

"Get the fuck off me." Still, in the time it takes Clay to reach you you try to shake the man off, glaring up at him like it might help. It doesn't, if anything his grip tightens and he pulls you closer, a hand reaching for the skin of your thigh like he has any right to touch you.

It's that that has Clay seeing red. Going from thinking he'd calmly intervene to storming between the two of you like a bull in a china shop. It must be the surprise of someone intervening that does it, but the man let's your wrist go and Clay's pushing you gently back and out of the way before he's letting a fist fly at the guy's face without so much as a word towards the other man.

"Shit, Clay...What the fuck are you doing?!" All you can do is take another step back, hands coming to your mouth because out of all the guys on the team, Clay's the last one you expect to be starting a fight in a bar with a guy at least a head taller than him.

He doesn't answer you because he's too busy fighting, you're so shocked, so focused on what's happening in front of you, that you jump when Kess brushes your shoulder, pool having been deserted in favour of helping O'Brian and Marino pull the two men apart.

Despite the size difference Clay's winning or it looks like he's winning, you're pretty certain he's broken the other guy's nose and even with a bloody busted lip, he doesn't look winded or ready to stop. Part of you hates it. A stupid display of male pride and dominance that you should not condone at all...another part of you feels a thrill at Clayton fighting on your behalf, at the blood speckles across his white dress shirt, at the bruising on his knuckles, at the way he licks the blood from his busted lip and smirks at the guy sarcastically. Like he's completely and utterly in control.

You're not sure he's going to stop, eyes feral, mouth pursed, huffing like an angry bull when Kess finally has him round the shoulders and starts pulling him away. Tuna doing the same to the stranger. But, Clay does stop, just shrugs Kess off with sharp movements, "I'm fine. He won't be if he doesn't fucking leave though."

It's Tuna that escorts the stranger out of the bar and you're certain the only thing stopping the bar owner from kicking Clay out is the fact he's a local celebrity who brings in half the customers.

"What the hell, Clay?" You're still shocked by the brute display of force from him, not scared, just surprised. You can't deny there's a certain appeal to it. To the way he looks at you as he wipes blood from his chin, how his large hands clench and unclench testing his knuckles for a break. They're just bruised. He's hot...hotter than usual and you kind of hate that you feel that way, like you're setting feminism back 100 years. But, God...

“No one gets to treat you like that, you hear me? No one.” He can't stand it. The entitlement to grab you, the belief that anyone has a right to touch you without permission, to talk to you like that. He's half a mind to chase after Tuna and the guy, to keep going, but he knows he shouldn't...he's already done more than he probably should have. Headlines in the morning no doubt already looking like 'Utah Captain beats local man in bar brawl!'.

"That...you can't just fight someone for being a asshole," You can see Kess gesturing for everyone to give the two of you privacy as Clay steps into your personal bubble. He's still amped up, chest heaving like he wants another fight, lips parted to take in more air. You hate that you want to take a bite out of him, you hate that you want him to take that energy out on you in a completely different way than fighting.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because...because..." all you can come up with is, "I'm not your girlfriend, Clay...you don't have to defend me."

He looks at you like you're an idiot, the only time he's ever looked at you like that. Like you're daft and it makes you flush with warm embarrassment because why couldn't you think of something better to say.

"No one gets to treat you like dirt. Like a piece of meat. Like he owns you, okay? Doesn't matter if you're my girlfriend or not, men better treat you with respect or they're dealing with me."

"Clay...I get it, you're a woman loving, modern man but..." You're convinced this whole display is just part of his gentlemanly stick, his righteous desire for fairness and justice in the world and nothing to do with you. it would be cute how oblivious you are, if he wasn't so fed up with it.

"And before you start that shit, yeah, I'd defend any woman in here, but I sure as fuck wouldn't be throwing punches over anyone else, baby." Clay runs his hands through his hair frenetically, the strands messy and loose, hat non-existent for once.

You feel like your head is spinning, buzzing, confused because surely he's talking about the fact you're kind of friends, that you're not a stranger. He can't possibly mean...he called you baby? When did Clay ever call you baby?

His laugh is sardonic, disbelieving as he watches the way you stare at him, all wide eyed and confused like he hasn't been trying to flirt with you for the past six months that you've known each other. Like he doesn't try to compliment you every time he sees you. Like he didn't give you his number the very first day so you could meet up. Like he's not totally irrevocably in love with you.

"Do I need to spell it out for you, sweetheart?" He's being a bit abrupt, a little bit mean in a way Clay normally isn't with you. Not quite so soft and he'll apologise for that later but he's still angry about the whole thing and you're obliviousness to his feelings feels like a slap in the face, like he's not good enough for you to even comprehend the idea of something more with. You don't owe him anything, but fuck, he's frustrated with the ignorance of it all.

"You're not my girlfriend, but I sure as hell want you to be and I've been flirting with you for six months and if you're just not interested that's fine, I'll still be in your corner, but I need to know if I'm just wasting my time waiting." This time when you're backed against the bar top by a man, it's by Clay, and it's wanted. He's in your space but with enough room that he's giving you an out, you can slip under his arm and leave at any moment. But you don't.

"You like me?" It's every dream you've had about Clay, every want, rolled up into one. The way he barricades you in on the bar top. The smell of his cologne. The warmth of him. The intense stare of baby blue eyes as he tells you he actually likes you, that your stupid, silly little crush isn't actually as one-sided as you thought.

"Only been flirting with you since the moment we met, baby."

"You've been flirting with me?" You lean back to get a better look at his face, your mouth dropped in shock. In turn he leans back to look at you in a similar manner, eyebrows high, blue eyes blinking in confusion.

"Are you serious?"

"Fuck...I thought...I thought you weren't interested...I thought...I thought you didn't like me back..." You're practically having an existential crisis between his arms because he's just admitted he likes you that he's been flirting with you for months, that all your pining and your moping has been for literally nothing.

"Back?" Clay's smile is starting to grow, the one you adore, all teeth and dimples as he picks up on that one seemingly insignificant word and prods at it. As if that word has put all the frustration, all the anger, all the bad feelings of the night instantly to rest.

"I..."

"Do you like me, baby?" He's all teasing smirks and half-lidded eyes now, leaning back into your space so close that you're chest to chest, nose to nose. So close you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. So close it makes you stutter and freeze.

"Clay..." Your eyes dart to all your friends, all eyes on the two of you as you flush warm, cheeks growing supremely hot because fuck, Clayton Keller looks like he's about to kiss you in the middle of a bar with the entire team watching like they need popcorn.

You watch Clayton's eyes flicker to catch the audience watching, the way he takes a moment to pause, to think, whatever impulsive decision he had being put to rest for the moment.

"C'mon..." His hand is wrapping around yours in no time, tugging you along and out of the bar, away from prying eyes as if that isn't just as blatant, just as obvious as kissing you in front of all of them or whatever he might have planned to do. There's part of you that wonders if this might be all some big joke he's about to play, the insecure part, the little girl from your childhood part, that feels like he might turn around and laugh with a loud 'as if!'.

You let him lead you outside, the night air cool against your arms, the sort of chill that makes goose bumps raise on your arms. He doesn't even hesitate before shrugging off his jacket and throwing it over your shoulders, his arm coming to rest there, tucking you into his side like you belong, like its natural for him to do.

You don't speak as you walk, scared to break the silence until you come to a stop a few streets down in front of a shop that Clay had parked across from earlier in the night. No one is around but you and that's what gives him the confidence to push you against the brick wall of the shop, to lean back into your space and ask the question that he never got an answer to.

"Do you like me, baby?" It's more intimate this time, but less pressured. There are no eyes on you, there are no bright bar lights or teammates getting an eyeful. Something about the dimness of the night, the cool air, the feel of his jacket over your shoulders and him, oh him, leaning into your space again, has you answering honestly.

"Yeah, yeah I do..."

There's a silent conversation that happens as his hand comes up to rest against your throat, thumb rubbing against the underside of your chin. He watches you carefully and you try to answer him without words, that you want this, that you really do like him.

Whatever Clay sees must be enough because he's leaning in slow, just slow enough for you to dip out if he's misread the situation, hand tightening just slightly around your throat before his lips are slanting over yours.

It's not a frantic kiss, not forceful or aggressive. He kisses you like a slow dance, like your the sweetest thing he's ever tasted and he's trying to savour it, enjoy it for as long as he can. Lips soft and slow against yours, tongue licking into your mouth unhurried and patient. If anyone is impatient it's you, your hands tangling into his hair and tugging until he groans against you, until that patience breaks just enough for him to start devouring your mouth like he's a glutton for you.

When Clayton finally pulls back from you you're both heaving in breaths, chests bumping against each other and lips kiss bitten. The smile he gives you is so soft, so sweet it makes you want to melt into a puddle, his eyes crinkling as just a hint of his teeth comes out to play.

"Can I take you on a date?" His nose bumps against yours, purposeful in the brush against your own like he can't stand to be too far away from you right now.

"Yeah, you can take me on a date, Clayton Keller."

"Good, cause I really need an excuse to punch the next guy that looks at you funny," He jokes causing you to let out a huff of a laugh, hand escaping his hair to whack his shoulder admonishingly.

"Don't you dare!"

[yandere-wishes]

Currently obsessed with the Damian x stray writing and had a very angsty thought about it (not a request, not meaning any pressure just wanted to share)

Stray feels suffocated by his attention. Maybe one day she might want him back but it’s all too much. She fakes her death (as her vigilante persona) and Damian morns and rages and turns cold, all of that delicious stuff.

Only one day the Catfam/Selina end up in hot water and she has to come back. He freaks the hell out.

oooohhhh I really love this, there's something so progressively dark about it. About Making Damian suffer so deliciously until he finally snaps.

Damian's love for Stray/Catgirl is complicated or rather it's easy but Damian likes to make it complicated by tying it to fate and legacy. He practically sees reader as his destiny as an omen and a good luck charm, heavenly insurance of sorts.

But should his darling, his comfort be stripped from him.

Well, destiny will still play out, but it won't be as kind.

Damian's life, his legacy, will be marred in ebony and rage.

⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆

The hands wrapped around your shoulders are suffocating. Same for the fingers currently squeezing your cheek, you angle your mouth right, trying to bite and gnaw at his flesh and bones. Damian just laughs, he still thinks the two of you are playing.

He always thinks you're playing. What can you expect from the little assassin boy whose first toy was a knife, who swung swords instead of playing catch. He loves the way your claws scratch at him, the tiny scars they leave. He likes to wrestle you along the harsh pavement, enjoys the punches he throws and receives. It's all just a game to him.

But you, you can't take it anymore, the sky itself is closing in. You can't breathe in his presence can't think when his arms are coiled like vines around your body.

The world is growing dark as his lips ghost across your lips...

Your mother notices your depression. The dark gloom that follows you across the rooms. The sharp snaps at your sisters, the endless screaming when someone gets too close.

She's already lost one daughter, she refuses to lose another.

Selina holds your funeral, pays for the coffin, and signs the invites.

She plays the role of grieving mother like an actress on the silver screen.

But despite the desperation in her action, her throat still hitches with fear when she sees the rage in the youngest Wayne's eyes.

She can't help but feel like she's doomed the world with her selfish little stunt.

In Star City you can breathe, see the sun as you walk across the dewy grass. There is hope here, sprinkled through the air.

You mind not the heroes that swing by. You even laugh at the stray arrows and masked family arguing on the rooftops.

In Star City, you can finally breathe...

Until the Gotham gloom creeps in once more.

He prowls the streets, cowl crown wrapped tightly around his head. Here he is vengeance he is law, Gotham bows at his feet.

He doesn't notice the family heirlooms shattered across the city streets,

The morals and legacy rotting away under the moon's mournful gaze.

Damian Wayne

Batman

The protector of Gotham.

And also it's jailer.

He doesn't have his father's mercy.

Doesn't carry his borthers' oaths.

He kills the monster that lurks between the shadows.

That fester in the darkness.

No crime goes unpunished.

There is no mercy for the wicked, no hope for rehabilitation.

There are only graves now.

His father would be disappointed...

Damian stalks towards the zoo,

He knows he's going to enjoy tonight's trifle.

Catwoman picks the lock on the new exhibit. She recoiled in disgust as her eyes scan the plaque by the cage.

*Lion cubs saved from the wild brought for restoration*

Lies she thinks bitterly. These little cubs were stolen, brought here from their homes across the sea. Imprisoned for the crule's amusement and the rich's greed. She sends her own kittens to rescue the lion cubs. But just as they go to make their escape. A dark figure descends from the sky, tearing through them and binding them.

Selina fights, but she's come to learn she is no match for the new bat. The vampire out for blood. He drags them back to the manor, once such a lively place now reeks of sorrow and mourning.

"This has nothing to do with crime and you know it! You know who's really guilty here. You just want an excuse to get rid of us. You still blame us, blame me for her death." Selina screams as the bat throws them into a dark chamber.

Damian says nothing he just locks the door and leaves.

After all the blood of the greatest detective still courses through his veins.

Your old suit feels too tight, cutting off your circulation. Still you jump from rooftop to rooftop vying for Wayne manner. You got the picture of your family tied up and starved, a few days ago. You hate how long it took you to gather the courage to return.

You shutter thinking of the image. Of the windowless cement room.

Your family may be infamous for breaking free.

But even a cat can't escape a cinderblock.

You crawl through the shadows. Sticking to the walls of the manner, the maze is endless, unrelenting. It refuses to be breached. The lights come on one by one as if catching a rat in a trap. You recoil at the blinding light when finally your eyes open once more you see Damian descending the stairs face painted in soft surprise, body covered in his father's suit.

"I knew you couldn't be dead." he's grown, face molded into a softer Bruce. But his rage still flickers relentlessly in his emerald eyes. Of couse he's finally cracked the case.

"Let them go" you beg tears cascading from your eyes "Please!".

"I see the civilian life has made you soft kitty. Not a difficult matter to resolve, I'm sure." You shake your head, stepping back trying to run away.

But the years have made him even stronger and Damian catches you before you can flee him again. His arms wrap around your waist, face buried in the crook of your neck, intoxicated by your scent.

He can't believe he's holding you once more. Your body is so solid within his grasp. He missed your sweet voice and even sweeter whimpers. He missed the erratic thump of your heart whenever he was near.

He'll never let you go, ever again.

Damian vows it on his father's grave.

He kisses your neck, your cheeks.

Finally reclaiming your lips.

You can't breathe...

[tokoyamisstuff]

I ABSOLUTELY ADORED THE VLADCARD HCS!!!! Could you maybe do so hcs for a vampire Anderson and a human reader?? Gotta get the old switcharoo on supernaturals 😈😈😈

wdjbawhjb I enjoy seeing that old man suffer 😈

also I'm so glad you're enjoying yourself! feel free to request as much as you like, for whoever and whatever you want! 💌 it's refreshing and helps so much against my writing block! 💕🫶

gn! Reader, can be read romantic or platonic, slight angst and blood

Obviously Anderson was turned against his will, and his first instinct is to stick to Iscariot protocol and end his existence at once.

He'll be devastated to learn he's turned so powerful that he can't simply die by stepping into the sunlight or stabbing himself through the heart.

At the beginning he's absolutely forlorn with this new state of being, yet he also cannot seem to bring himself to return to the Vatican as he is now, unwilling to face his old comrades and especially the children under his care.

After all vampirism comes with certain cravings, and while is self-restraint is insanely high, he is terrified of losing control and he'd never put the people he loves at even the slightest risk.

Speaking of which, knowing things can't continue like this forever, his resolve diminishing together with his strenght as he refuses to feed, in his desparation he finds himself going out of his hiding to seek out his closest confidant.

For a while he'll manage to keep his distance, far enough away not to harm you but always so close that you realize something is off.

Though subjecting you to his presence was dangerous and inevitably would drag you down together with him one way or another, at some point he'll work up the courage - or rather exasperation - to ask for your help.

You'll be shocked to see the man you hadn't nearly stopped mourning after his alledged death weeks ago, thinking back to the day you were standing at his empty grave since all of you believed there was nothing left to bury.

Anderson will fall to his knees, begging you to deliver him from this curse, to cleanse his sins through your holy blade - but you refuse. You can't do it. Not now or ever.

He never doubted you'd be willing to help him, but that was also his greatest fear. You offer him refuge until you'd find a solution, insisting on him staying despite his protests as you trust him unconditionally.

There was a tiny hope left that he didn't lose God's favor just yet, since he was turned involuntarily and had yet to consume human blood. Maybe this was his purpose, having a specimen to experiment and find a cure for vampirism alltogether.

So you'd spend an eternity trying every possible method to revert the demonic transformation somehow, even consultated Iscariot and other sources of knowledge, but nothing seemed to work.

At some point he's grown so desperate that he throws all reason overboard. He's already doomed to rot in hell either way, might as well make best out of the time until he's sent there.

He'll spend most of his time as your (literal) shadow, after he motto "I'll keep you safe and you keep me sane".

It takes a lot of convincing for him to feed off of your blood, but at some point he's grown so starved and weary that he reluctantly accepts your offer. However he only drinks it from a container you drain it into, insisting you stay far away from him during this because your essence has an effect on him that he doesn't trust himself with.

Together you keep slaying demonic forces in the name of the church and hope that those actions will appease the Lord to have mercy on Anderson's soul despite everything.

In the end he is eternally grateful that you never gave up on him, and as much as he still struggles with this state of being, you made him see the light even in his darkest days.

[caterpillarinacave]

So I haven’t written anything in a month

[uncanny-tranny]

Could you describe your gender using words that are not typically used to describe one's gender?

The wave of exhilaration I got when I finally thought of a story I want to write after being burnt out for over five years, or maybe novels from the romantic movement or the decadent movement, for the latter it would primarily be the manner in which people spoke with each other in The Picture of Dorian Gray

[nnato]

had no damn idea I’d love you this much

Norman/Arthur x soft morning in bed

[imaginedisish]

Modern Love (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! Here's something short and sweet. This is based on a request, so I hope the requester enjoys :) No song references here, but "Modern Love" by David Bowie seems appropriate. It's 80s, New Wave-y, and we're in an arcade in this fic, so it fits.

Summary: The team goes out to an arcade, and Logan is his usual grumpy self...but his soft spot for you is more clear than ever.

Warnings: Suggestive content (would totally write a second part with some true smut), tooth rotting fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, cursing, f!reader/afab!reader, grumpy!Logan, Jubilee is a cock block LOL, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 1,685 short and sweet indeed

“I do not want to be here,” Logan complains, rolling his eyes as the team strolls into the arcade. 

Jubilee skips inside, twirling with excitement. “Well, that’s just too bad, Logan!” She calls, running over to the arcade’s version of Dance Dance Revolution. Kurt is laughing, following at her heels. “Because everyone else is going to have a great time!” 

“Gambit’s winning big tonight,” Gambit says, taking Rogue’s hand in his. “Gambit’s winning chere a prize, he is.” Rogue blushes, letting Gambit pull her to one of the fake slot machines. 

Jean and Scott walk over to an older machine—Pac-Man or something similar, probably. Storm and Charles head towards the seating area near the snack bar in the back, leaving you and Logan to yourselves. Of course. You’re alone with Logan. The person you want but you know you can’t have. 

You’re friends—just friends. You’ve accepted that he’ll never see you as anything more, but it still hurts. 

“So…” You say, trailing off as Logan looks around the arcade. “Not your kind of place, huh?”

“Not particularly,” he says back, his eyes finding yours. You can’t help but smile at that stupid, grumpy look on his face. “You like this shit?” He asks, smiling back at you. 

You shrug your shoulders, noncommittal. “I think you’d have fun if you tried,” you say, nodding towards the crane machine, and walking over. You can hear Logan’s footsteps against the carpet, following you close behind.

You peer into the glass, looking at all the stuffed animals filling the machine. Your smile widens when you spot the cute little turtle in the back—green and brown, wide eyes, and extra plush and round. Logan leans against the machine, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “Which one are we going for?” He asks. We—you can’t help but replay the word in your head. There’s a “we” in this. You and Logan. 

You point to the turtle in the back row. “We’re going for that one,” you say, and his eyes find the green little thing. “Isn’t he cute?”

He shakes his head, grinning ear to ear, his grumpiness seemingly gone now. “Sure, princess, sure he is.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sound of the familiar pet name. You lean down to put a quarter in the machine, trying your best not to overthink the situation. The crane starts up, whirring to life, giving you three tries to win the stuffy. 

You maneuver the crane to the back row, just above the turtle. “Do you think that’s good?” You ask, looking towards Logan. But he isn’t looking at the machine; he’s looking at you, smirking. “What?” You ask, narrowing your eyes incredulously. 

“You’re cute when you concentrate,” Logan says, his smirk unwavering. You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he peers into the machine. He nods, his eyes finding yours again, changing the subject before you can respond to his comment. “Looks good to me.”

You swallow nervously, pressing the button on the top of the stick, sending the crane down to the stuffy. It grabs the turtle, holding it up. It looks like it’s going to make it, but it falls in the center of the glass box. You groan, annoyed as the crane moves back to position. You try again, bringing the crane to the center of the machine, just above the turtle, and dropping it again. The silver claws grip the plushy, but it’s a bad grab—the turtle slipping right out of its grasp. 

 “Fucking rigged,” you mutter, moving the crane over the turtle for the final time. “This is it,” you say, looking at Logan. He’s suddenly shifting closer to you, standing behind you and pressing his front to your back. His arms rest on either side of the crane machine’s controls, caging you in. 

“Much better view from here,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. You’re distracted by how close he is. You can smell him—tobacco and pine and musk. “Let’s see if it works, princess.” This is too much. Far more than you can possibly handle. 

You take a deep breath, your eyes surveying the crane’s distance from the turtle carefully, and you press the button. The crane drops, grabbing the stuffy, and picking it up successfully. “Yes!” You say, looking back at Logan. His face is inches from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your lips. Your noses are so close, brushing together softly. He leans in, lips parted. 

“Game over!” A robotic, automated voice rings out, the crane whirling back into position. It snaps you back to reality, and you look inside the machine. There, off to the side just next to the machine’s drop box, is the turtle. 

“Shit,” you mumble, shoulders slumping with disappointment. You know it’s just a game, and you are an adult after all, but you can’t help the frown that forms across your face. “I really wanted him. I was gonna name him Bernie.”

Logan chuckles. “Bernie?” he asks, and you nod. He’s centimeters away from you again, leaning in. “Don’t sweat the loss, princess. You’re cuter than that little thing is anyw—"

“Look what Kurt and I got with our tickets!” Jubilee is suddenly in front of you, a stuffed, sparkly blue dinosaur in her hand. She’s tugging you away from Logan and across the arcade before you can protest. “You gotta dance with me!” You look back at Logan, who’s standing alone in front of the crane machine, arms tucked against his chest. 

Have fun, he mouths. And good luck. He winks at you as Jubilee whisks you off to Dance Dance Revolution. You let her pick the song, and you struggle through the round, your feet tapping to the beat. You and Jubilee are a laughing mess. You know you look absolutely ridiculous, but it’s fun. 

And yet, your mind still wanders to Logan. You think about how close he was to you, the way his lips practically brushed against yours—the ghost of a kiss. You think about the way he caged you in, pressed against your back. You’re so distracted that you don’t even realize how badly you’re fumbling all the moves; you don’t hear Jubilee calling your name. 

“Hey!” She shouts, finally bringing you back to reality. The round is over; you missed the entire second half of the dance. “Where’d you go just there?” She asks, concern hidden within her smile.  

You look over to the crane machine, expecting to see Logan, but he’s gone. In fact, you can’t find him anywhere. “Sorry Jubes, but I gotta go see about something,” you say, stepping off the platform. 

Your eyes search the arcade. Gambit and Rogue are at the ticket redemption counter, picking out a big stuffed bear. Kurt is fooling around on one of those motorcycle racing games. Storm and Charles are—uncharacteristically—sharing a soft pretzel, while Jean and Scott share a milkshake. Everyone is here and accounted for except Logan. 

That is, until you notice the puff of smoke in the corner of the glass door at the front of the arcade. You smirk, walking towards the entrance and pushing the door open. 

Logan leans against the brick wall of the building, cigar in his mouth. His head turns towards you, and he immediately takes the cigar out, dropping it to the ground and extinguishing it with the heel of his boot. 

“Hi,” you whisper, standing next to him. 

He looks down at you, smiling widely. “Hi.” He’s leaning in again—so close—and a shiver runs up your spine. “Cold?” He asks, shrugging out of his leather jacket before you have a chance to answer. He helps you into the jacket one arm at a time, his eyes drinking you in once it’s on, trailing up and down your body. “Looks good on you,” he hums. “Way better than it does on me.”

You shake your head, letting your shoulder brush against his. You look over at him and suddenly notice something green and round in his hand. “What’s that?” You ask. But you already know. You recognize the little brown spots and the wide eyes. 

Logan smirks, lifting the turtle up. “Couldn’t let you go home without him,” he says, holding it out towards you. 

“No way!” You shout, ignoring the turtle and throwing your arms around Logan’s neck. It’s instinctive, natural. He tugs you in closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Thank you so much,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. “I can’t believe you ended up playing a game at an arcade.” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers against your temple. The sudden vulnerability of his words makes your heart tighten in your chest. You stay like that for a while, his lips ghosting your forehead, your chests pressed together. You finally lift your head, looking up at Logan. 

“Lo?” You whisper, and his gaze meets yours, flitting between your eyes and your lips. He drops the plushy onto the bench next to him and walks you back into the brick wall, caging you in, hands on either side of your waist. 

He leans in. “Yeah, pretty girl?” He brings one hand to your hip, gripping gently. “What do you need?”

“Y-you,” you stutter. “I need y—"

His lips swallow your words, fitting against yours like a puzzle piece. The kiss is slow, languid, but you can feel his need in the way he moves against you, hands slipping underneath the borrowed jacket and your shirt to explore your skin. His fingertips drag along your back, relaxing you into his touch. 

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Logan mumbles against your lips. 

Your heart flutters in your chest. “But what about the others?” You ask, nodding to the arcade.

Logan smirks, stealing another kiss. “All the more reason to get back to the mansion before they do.”

“But how are we going to—”

He grips your waist, tugging you towards the parking lot. “I took my bike, pretty girl.”

Oh?

Oh. 

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Cold Jealousy

I am back once again with more Silco brain rot. Feeding all of you who need the content as well as myself.

Summary: Who knew jealousy was all it took for to have your first kiss with Silco?

He hates the coiling in his stomach that arises whenever you laugh at something a patron says. It sickens him, seeing you lean in so close to another man, your lips moving as you say something and then smile, causing the table to burst into laughter. He knows you're simply close friends with them, after all they are your childhood friends, people who grew up with you, so of course you'd act overly familiar with them but he can't stop his chest from tightening, his fingers twitching.

The nib of his pen pierces through the page he was writing on and he scowls angrily at the mess, trying to drown out your voice but it's intoxicating, a melody that snatches his attention away from the numbers in his notebook. Your laughter is like a drug, leaving him wanting more every time he hears it, and the thought that it's someone else eliciting it drives him insane.

"You alright there?" Vander slides him a glass of scotch, worry clear gentle grey eyes.

"I'm fine," Silco spits back, a little harsher than intended. Of course Vander would notice something was off, Vander knew him way too well. He turns back to his notebook, trying to suppress the whispers that begin to cloud his mind and stares at the numbers, willing them into his brain.

"You know they only have eyes for you right? They don't look at anyone the same way they look at you." Vander glances over at the table where you're currently playing a game of cards, and from the looks of it, losing.

"I know," Silco scowls, stabbing the page with his pen. Vander simply huffs and turns to attend to the customer who just pulled up at the counter. Silco rolls his eyes and closes the notebook, he's done for the night. There's no way he can continue concentrating when you laugh like that, when butterflies flutter in his chest and turn to stone as he remembers you're not laughing at something he said or did.

"I'm going to get some air," he grunts, slipping out the back door.

Out of habit, he makes his way to the rooftop, sitting at his usual spot and looks out at the sprawling underground city beneath. Neon lights flash from various stores like stars, illuminating figures as people walk past but the silhouettes disappear just as quickly, fading back into obscurity. It's the same pattern every night, he's memorised some of the figures already, knows the habits of certain individuals, and has noted the important ones. He spots the lady with twin brown hair buns who frequents the brothel opposite, the two enforcers who always sneak into the nearby drug store during their nightly patrol and nearly misses the sound of your footsteps.

"Hey." You take your seat next to him.

"Y/N." He barely spares you a glance before looking back at the city below. The night wind whistles through the air, sending shivers through his body and he curls up, hugging his knees to his chest. Dammit, he forgot his coat. The air here is chillier at this time of the year, being so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city's nightlife, but it brings a sense of peace that he treasures, especially when it's with you. Tonight, it just feels cold, probably from his lack of a coat, but there's a numbness he can't explain.

The clink of glass snaps him out of his thoughts and he glances up to see you produce a bottle of wine as well as two glasses.

"Sorry, I couldn't swipe a bottle of scotch so I grabbed the next best thing before anyone could catch me," you smile at him and pop the bottle open. The red liquid sloshes in the glass as you fill it up and hand it to him, "peace offering?"

He wrinkles his nose but takes the glass anyways, mumbling a thank you before letting the liquid slide down his throat. It doesn't have the same burn as scotch does, but there's still a pool of warmth that sits in his belly, although it does little to alleviate the chill he feels.

You smile and pour a glass for yourself, taking a sip, following the direction of his eyes. Silco swirls the red liquid around in his glass, biting his lip. The silence is awkward, but he won't be the first to break it, his pride won't let him. Fortunately, you shift closer to him and shrug your jacket off, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Don't catch a cold on me."

He snorts in response, tugging your jacket tighter around himself. It smells nice, smells like you with a hint of his cigar's smoke. He can pick out the scent of wine, the smell of the soap you use to wash the jacket, the remnants of Piltover's smell from your afternoon stint and a small smile makes its way onto his face as he remembers the way you threw yourself at him, clutching a bag of freshly baked bread, laughing as you yelled at him to run for his life. The pool of warmth resting in his belly spreads to the rest of his body, sending tingles up his spine as he buries his face into the jacket's fabric. The fabric is worn but still maintains a certain level of softness, and it feels as nice as it smells.

He watches as you finish your glass and exchange it for the bottle, remembering his own unfinished glass and takes another sip. Scotch was still the best drink, a shame you didn't manage to filch a bottle of it. You down half the bottle in one go, sighing in satisfaction and gesture at his glass.

"You don't have to force yourself to finish it, you know?"

He scowls, and finishes the rest of his wine, all the while staring right at you. "As if I'll let you have any of mine."

You laugh, and he finds that your laughter sounds better when it's because of something he said than when it's because of something someone else said, besides, there's the added bonus of giddiness that fills him. He smiles, for the first time tonight and sets the glass down next to yours. The awkwardness has been broken, much to his relief and he feels as though he can breathe easier.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You gesture towards the myriad of lights. "Piltover's lights can't compare to this."

"That's because most of their lights are the same colour," he snorts, "but yes…it is beautiful."

You beam, taking another swig from the bottle and set the bottle down, leaning back on your hands. The night breeze ruffles through your hair, playing with its strands and Silco watches as a couple of strands fall between your eyes, causing you to huff and puff at it until it falls off your face. The next gust of wind is stronger and you shiver, shifting closer to him. He shakes his head and throws the left half of your jacket over your shoulders so it covers the both of you.

"Don't you catch a cold on me either."

"Thank you for sharing my jacket." You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. He nudges you back, the back and forth going on for a while until the jacket slips off your shoulder and he leans over to pull it back on. Electricity crackles from where his skin brushes against yours and he feels his heart leap into his throat when he looks up at you, realising how close the two of you are.

Sure, the both of you know how the other feels, knows the unspoken truth but continue to dance around each other, fearful of what acknowledging the feeling would bring, but tonight just feels right. He feels your hand intertwine with his and he leans in, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. You lean in as well and your lips meet for the first time.

The feeling is addicting, Silco quickly learns. The way your lips lock with his perfectly, the way you lean in as his fingers run through your hair, the way your free arm wraps around his waist, pulling him closer, all of this makes him wish this moment will never end. Unfortunately, the both of you need to breathe and so he reluctantly parts from you, pressing his forehead against yours. It feels natural, to feel your warmth, to hold you underneath your jacket, and from the way you're looking at him with such adoration in your eyes, you feel the same way.

It doesn't need to be said, nothing needs to be said, the only thing he needs to do is close the gap once more and taste the wine on your lips, savouring the sweetness of it all. This is the one time he will admit that wine tastes good, but he still prefers scotch.

Your hand gently cups his cheek and he finds himself leaning into the touch. Your thumb runs over his skin, brushing along his cheekbone and he sighs, surrendering to your warmth. A small smile graces your lips and he can't help but smile back, although his smile is rather lazy.

"We should head back before Vander has to come and haul us away," you murmur and Silco reluctantly extracts himself from your touch.

"And before he closes the bar up so that we don't have to wash the glasses." He picks said glasses up, nudging the empty bottle towards you. "You are still going to throw the bottle away, I'm not touching that."

"Why? You were so eager to touch my saliva just moments ago," you tease, mirth decorating your features.

"I'm not about to deny you your responsibilities." He ducks out of the way as you try to shove the empty bottle into his arms, quickly making his way back into the bar before you can succeed in making your problem his. He hears your annoyed shouts behind him and laughs, sliding into the bar's counter.

Vander raises an eyebrow as Silco places the glasses in the sink and darts off, then shakes his head as you come barreling in, demanding that Silco help you as payment for the wine he drank. He grabs the both of you by your collars and drops you both at the sink. "I believe washing everything in the sink will suffice as payment for the bottle of wine."

You groan when you see the amount of empty cups in the sink and Silco laughs, turning on the water tap. At least you're trapped in this with him, the washing should go by faster.

As the both of you hunch over the sink, you give him a little nudge with your elbow. "Next time, if you're jealous, just step in. I'll leave with you, I promise."

"Jealous?" He splutters. "I wasn't jealous!"

"Sure you weren't, Mr 'angrily stabs an innocent piece of paper with his pen'. Keep trying."

He huffs, turning his attention back to the glass he's currently wiping dry. "I wasn't jealous."

"Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that. I doubt that changes facts though."

"Nobody said that was a fact."

You lightly punch him in the shoulder with your damp fist and he mock glares at you, smacking your arm with the drying cloth but can't stop the smile that's forming on his face.

"Don't ever doubt yourself," you say softly. "You mean everything to me."

And you mean everything to me too.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Wearing their jackets (slasher edition)

I need to write slasher stuff more.... I also need to watch scream like I said I would... and other films... but alas cotl rot is too strong

Characters: Jason, brahms, bubba, Thomas, Michael

Notes: reader is gn, cold weather baby!!, in Michael's bit yoy wear his coveralls because he refuses to throw a jacket over it

CWs: none

JASON

Built like a polar bear, he's so used to the cold that he just shrugs it off as he goes into the woods to get fire wood for you

Actually offers his jacket to you until he can get a fire started to keep you warm- he doesn't want you to get sick! Don't worry about him! Especially if this is zombie Jason, the cold doesn't really.. effect his undead body that much...

Doesn't mind it if you steal his jacket from him, he takes it as you being cold- but if you explain that it's partly because you miss him he feels.. bad.. he didn't mean to take so long in the woods he promises

Even if you said it jokingly he's going to do his best to make up for his brief absence

BUBBA

let me tell you, as someone who lives in texas: the winters get brutal. Incredibly cold, he's definitely got at least one coat somewhere... and even if he only had one he would let you take it

But... please stay close to him by the heater, he knows you probably want to go do something else with him but it's truly too cold to not be able to do much else without freezing in their old house- even worse if this takes place in their new home in the second film... underground

He thinks you look really cute in his coat and he tries to let you know that- hes... a little bashful but you think it's sweet

You both probably end up cuddling into one another under the coat together

THOMAS

Once more: texas gets incredibly cold in the winter depending on the time of year and where you are. He's got a coat somewhere

Not that that he really uses it, built like a polar bear like Jason. He tolerates cold pretty well, hardly seems phased by it.. he's so laser focused on his chores and work around the house that you often find him still working outside

And he's given his coat to you because you have a lower tolerance than him... maybe you can convince him to come snuggle with you under it? Maybe? He'd hate to leave his chores unfinished but he doesn't like saying no to you

Very heavy coat, very thick

MICHAEL

Completely unphased by the cold, he also doesn't have a jacket. The best you can do is take his coveralls when you FINALLY convince him to take them off so they can be washed

Does not like sharing his things, the likelihood of him humoring you after you put them in is low. May actually take them off of you himself... not incredibly rough but there's intention to yoink them back

If you're cold then go get a blanket or you're own jacket... why steal his things without asking?

It completely flies over his head that jacket (or rather clothing) stealing is common for couples

BRAHMS

Move over give him his sweater back he's FREEZING! If he needs to he's going to wear the sweater with you in it!

HATES the cold and he's going to make it everyone else's problem, please don't let him catch a fever reader! Please!

Fire place? Lit. Blankets? Gathered. Sweaters? Worn. You're more likely to see him leave the walls during the colder months so he can snag your body heat, too

Lets it go to his head if you let slip that you stole his sweater because you missed him... hes basically hovering over now- well, more than he did before

[yougavememyopia]

YOU WRITE CRYING MEN SO WELL ITS CRAZY ☹️🙏🙏 CAN WE PLS PLS PLS GET SMUT FOR CRYBABY!YANDERE OMG

Of course :) Pt.1. Pt.2.

Tags: oral (reader receiving), pillow humping, mommy kink (a bit obvious lol), poor communication

Yandere crybaby, who, despite all of his perverted fantasies, would be shy to take things further with you. You'd have to coax it out of him with gentle reassurance. Petting the top of his head, kissing his pouty lips, nibbling on his neck. Slowly drawing lewd whimpers and whines from him. Slowly making him rock hard for you.

But then, at the last frustrating second, where you start to take off his shirt, he'd stop you. Embarrassment with a mix of insecurity in his eyes. Choked up tears and weak excuses muttered from his lips. Making your heart flutter at the sight of beet-redded face. Your fingers wiped his cheek, his lips planting kisses against your palm in return. Taking a few seconds to calm down his breathing, he bore his eyes into yours.

"We don't have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with, honey."

Your kind words eased him. But he knew you were bound to get tired of him being a pathetic crying mess. Truth was, he was scared— afraid that you'll hate him if you saw what was underneath his clothes. Afraid that if he didn't satisfy you, you would surely get rid of him. Leave him all alone to rot. Be with someone who was far better than him.

He couldn't let that happen.

"No, hic... You need relief. I-I can do this! I don't want you to be unsatisfied... Hic! I don't want you to go to anyone else for this. I want you to only look at me. Love me. Only me."

He got down between your legs. Rubbing your knees as he gulped, swallowing the saliva that wanted to spill. He felt sweaty. His heart drummed against his ears as tears fell from his eyes.

"Are you sure?" You confirmed it with him one last time, unable to say no to his cute, innocent face. He sniffled as he nodded enthusiastically. He wanted to do this. Not only because he could finally taste you, but also to make himself useful. He wanted to be good for you. He craved your approval; he needed it to survive.

He felt nervous. He had no idea what to do when you hesitantly pulled down your underwear. Just staring at your private...

His pants already creamed just by the sight of your bare pussy. He bit his lip hard, hiding a whimper from the shock of pleasure traveling up his body. Blinking and blinking, the gears in his head turning.

Your brows furrowed in concern. "I don't think we should, um..."

You lost your train of thought when his shaky breaths fanned your mound. An unsure tongue licking the length of your sensitive front. His eyes closed in ecstasy. Already overwhelmed enough by all his other senses. Your familiar smell, your divine taste, your dripping flesh— all driving him crazier. The noise you made caused his stomach to churn.

He pulled away, rubbing his cheek to the soft plush of your thigh instead. "Mmgh, f-feels too good. I..." His hand covered a mewl. "I love you so much..."

"I love you too, baby. But it's not a big deal if you—"

You were cut off again, this time by a surge of good shock shooting through you. He delved in, started to eat you out like a starved man. Licking, sucking, nibbling. His hands grabbing your hips so he could push his tongue further into your hole. Sinful squelching noises filled the room. His nose pressing against your clit with each thrust of his tongue. He wasn't holding back any longer, hiding his face between your thighs.

He slowly began to move his hips. His poor overstimulated cock rubbing against the couch. Aroused again with a fever. His whole body burned. His eyes rolled to the back of his head while he kept going. Movements only getting rougher and faster while you placed your hand on top of his head. Holding his head and bucking into his mouth, chasing release.

You had no idea he could be like this. His docile attitude replaced with something feral. He was moaning like he was in pain. Feeding on your juices to quench his thirst. His hips bumped against the furniture as if he wasn't capable of controlling it. Tears ruining his pretty face even more.

It was only a matter of time before you finished. Your back arching and your toes curling with a loud groan. "Ahhh... Fuck, fuck! Where did all that come from?"

"I-I just want you to be happy... Did I make you happy? Was I good? Are you gonna stay with me? You won't abandon me... right?!"

You sighed, a small smile forming on your face. He clearly had some things to work out. Always needing constant comfort; begging for you to own him, capture him, claim him as yours. He wished he could say the words without tearing up. Ask you to tie him down to your bed and just play with his hair.

He got comfortable with your body. Learning to use his slender fingers and even started to make eye contact when he kitten-licked your sensitive nub. Sobbing happy tears when you slowly stroked his hair. He felt enveloped by your love. Surrounded by you.

The liquid streamed down to his chin. Cries of joy vibrating against your heat while he worked harder to drive you to the edge. Half-lidded eyes staring up at yours as his fingers slid in and out of you rhythmically.

"Such a good boy, aren't you, hon? Yes. Yes, you are. You're my good boy. Ah, fuck, I'm gonna—"

Sometimes, the best way to help him calm down was to let him cuddle up to your chest. Sitting on your lap, head under your shirt— engulfed by your sweet sweet smell— lips moving around your breasts. Licking hot stripes around your areola, sucking on your nipple like a pacifier.

He'd start to get more greedy for your approval. Asking if he did a good job for a basic task, like folding his clothes and putting them away. Or if he was a good boy for not crying when you went to the bathroom. He was adorable— looking at you like a lost child, wanting for you to take care of him.

He couldn't bear to be apart from you for even a moment. Pleading and pleading for you to stay when you wanted to hang out with your friends. You pecked his lips, "Be good, baby. I'll be back in 2 hours. Promise."

He whimpered when you pulled away from him. Yet obeying your words as he should. Plopping down to your shared bed to sniff your scent from the sheets. 2 hours, he could do that.

He started weep pathetically. The droplets soaking your blanket. He cried over far more stupid things than this. A crybaby. That was really all he was. He took your pillow, hugging it tightly as if it would disappear at any moment. His eyes closed shut. Whispering, "Haah... I wish you were hugging me... I wish you were here..."

He tried to be a good boy. Tried to keep himself in check. Tried oh-so hard to stop thinking about it. But eventually, the problem in his pants started to hurt. One of his trembling legs dropped over your pillow, while he found the rewarding angle that gave him the most friction. His hand sneaked into his pocket to grab a pair of hidden underwear, there in case of... emergencies.

You came back to your room to retrieve a forgotten item. Just at the right time— catching him grinding against your pillow mindlessly. Your underwear pressed tightly against his nose as he inhaled and exhaled a wail. Moaning louder and more high-pitched than you've ever heard.

"Nghh... m-mommy... Why...? Why did you have to— hic— leave your poor babyboy....?"

You grinned. The newfound information was a treasure. You always wondered if he was into that title. Too timid to talk to you about things like that. He was just adorable. You could hear how close he was when his voice shook. When he chanted your name as if it would ease the pain. Brows crumpled, and sweat rolled down the skin of his forehead.

"Mommy..." His tongue darted out to lick the heavenly taste off the fabric of your panties. His hips rutted to the pillow until a sad, unsatisfying orgasm hit him. He cried miserably. Nose stuffed while he breathed out whimpers. Drool mixed with other liquids pooled down to splatter the pillow. An unusual angry huff coming from his lips. "Why aren't you here?!? Whywhywhywhy!"

Only if he had opened his eyes.

[bluzebub19]

I have a request for how the Arcane characters (Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Heimerdinger, Ekko) look so that the reader can access their cuteness. Maybe they are doing or saying something to the reader and the reader suddenly starts hugging and petting them, calling them cute. How would they react to this?

Note: So... I'm the only one who thinks Heimerdinger is really cute. Why aren't there fanfics with him? Mysteries of life..

Arcane characters being called cute by their s/o while they're working

Writer's note: Thanks for requesting! It took longer than I expected because I kept deleting some of the dialogue from how cheesy and cringe it sounded lmao. Heimerdinger is not on my list of characters I write for, but I figured I'll write him this one time. I hope you don't mind that I also added Mylo, cuz why not?

Request/s: Open!

Warning/s: Get a dentist. This is some tooth-rotting fluff. Not proofread and english isn't my native language.

Character/s: Viktor, Jayce, Jinx, Vi, Ekko, Heimerdinger and Mylo

● Viktor tends to get lost in his work, mumbling equations or sketching out blueprints for his projects. You find this incredibly endearing, but not when he gets so absorbed that he forgets to eat or sleep.

● If you suddenly hug him or call him cute, he’ll freeze in shock at first. He blinks up at you as if you just said something in a language he doesn’t understand. Then, his cheeks will flush a light pink, and he’ll chuckles softly. “Cute is... not a term I hear often. But thank you."

● Over time, he grows more comfortable and secretly enjoys the affection. He may even lean into it, but he’ll never outright admit it. Instead, he might deflect with a shy smile and, “You should focus on more important matters."

● Yeah no, that's a sign for you to keep doing it.

● Jayce is the golden boy—confident, charming, and ridiculously handsome. He likes to appear professional and put-together, but you know him well enough to see through that exterior to the dorky, hardworking man beneath.

● When you hug him out of nowhere while he cooks and call him cute, he blinks for a second but chuckles as he turns to look at you. “Cute? Babe, I’m going for ruggedly handsome and sweet here. But I'll take it."

● Still, he's flattered and loves the affection you give him. And unlike Viktor, he's not afraid or shy to show you he wants more of it. He might pull you closer and say, "You're one to talk." He's a romantic and albeit cheesy guy.

● Now, you probably might be thinking about why and how is he cooking, but that's for another headcanon! (I just realized how I'm not even sure whose side am I on. Can he cook?? Cuz I feel like he can. But I also see him burning food-)

● Jinx, as we all know, is pure chaos, always working on something explosive or messing around. She has a habit of humming and singing off-key to herself while she works, which makes you think she’s oddly cute in her own... quirky way. To be honest, it’s hard not to find her enthusiasm contagious, even if it’s a little dangerous.

● One day, you catch her doing exactly that while painting her trademark designs on one of her grenades. The sight just makes you smile as you walk up and wrap your arms around her, telling her, “You’re so cute when you’re focused like this,” or something of the sort.

● She’ll throw her hands up and turn to look at you, trying to play off your compliment as a joke. “Woah, you might be crazier than me!" She grins and laughs softly, before making her voice sound more gruff, "Ya buttering up the author nightmares with your mooshy stuff!”

● But after her initial over-the-top reaction, she’ll soften. “Fine, soak it all in.” She shrugs and continues working. But deep down, she really loves the affection and she's getting more and more attached to you. You're giving her the kind of love that she thinks she never deserved in her life, so she really appreciates these little things you do. She might even snuggle up to you later, claiming it’s to “soak in all this ‘cute’ energy.”

● Oh, by the way, she'll make this happen a lot more often. By how, you ask? Well, by doing the same thing to you, of course! It becomes a little challenge betweem the two of you who calls the other one cute first and catching them off guard with it.

● Vi is all tough love and sass, but there’s a soft side she shows only to the people she really cares about. You notice this when she’s being protective or just in those peaceful moments when you're both alone together.

● If you call her cute, she’ll raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Cute? Babe, I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

● Later, she’ll definitely tease you about it, saying something like, “So, how’s it feel dating the cutest person in Zaun?” or "Am I still cute?" with a playful grin. She'll be teasing you and making you smile with that while she's half naked and flexing her biceps (she knows you love them), or when she just got done with a fight and is still holding her gauntlets.

● She loves it, don't let that teasing fool you.

● Heimerdinger is an adorable bundle of wisdom and fluff. You often catch him rambling about science with such enthusiasm that you can’t help but smile. Look at him! He's just adorable!

● One day, as he’s showing you a tiny contraption he just finished, you can’t help but reach out and pet his fluffy head, saying, “You’re the most cutest genius ever.”

● Heimerdinger chuckles, his mustache twitching with amusement. “Ah, well, I suppose I do have a certain charm about me, don’t I?”

● He pretends to be unaffected, but you notice the way his tail swishes slightly when you hug him. “I must say, your affection is quite... energizing! Perhaps I should study its effects further.”

● From then on, he might start subtly seeking out your affection—like casually leaning into your hand when you pet him or “accidentally” bumping into you while working.

● Ekko is talking to you about his plans for the Firelights while sketching upgrades for their hoverboards.

● You were quietly admiring him, the way his eyes light up and the focused furrow of his brows, when you suddenly blurt out, “You’re so cute when you’re focused.”

● He freezes for a second, then looks at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “Cute? Me?” He grins, a soft laugh escaping. “You sure you’re not talking about yourself there?”

● He rubs the back of his neck, trying to act nonchalant, but the smile gives him away.

● “You’re not getting away with saying that,” he teases, leaning in to nudge you lightly with his shoulder. He goes back to doing his work before playfully adding, “But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just start believing it.”

● It's these little things that matters. These moments, even if simple, it gives him hope and motivation to make the world a better place. The way his eyes soften when you look at him in that moment, and how he lets his guard down just enough to show you he cares — it’s clear that, while he teases, he loves the attention, and he loves you even more for it.

● Dude's got lines fr fr

● Mylo has always been the type of guy who had a sarcastic, sassy remark ready. We all know that from how he treated Powder.

● When you suddenly hug him and call him cute, he freezes for a second, unsure of how to react. “Cute? Me?” He scoffs, trying to play it cool, but it's very obvious he's a bit flustered by it. “Out of all the compliments you could’ve picked, you went with cute? I’m more like... cool, and handsome.” He throws a dramatic, exaggerated pose, trying to hide his nervousness.

● Despite his teasing, there's a small, pleased grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tries to act nonchalant, but the way he keeps glancing at you shows how much he’s secretly enjoying it.

● “Seriously, though. I’m cool, alright?” he continues, trying to regain his confidence. “I don’t do cute. But, uh... thanks. I guess.” He says softly as he shrugs, clearing his throat.

● Later on, when no one’s watching, you might catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, a small smile on his face, clearly still flattered.

Can you guys guess which is my favorite based on how long their headcanons are

[lvndrfucks]

don’t leave me hanging omg, write the concept. miguel brain rot is on 24/7 — 🧠

You were surprised none of Miguel’s neighbors had complained yet. There were teenagers scattered all around the inside of Johnny’s apartment and the outside, loud music blasting and a fair share of drinks being passed around. At least everyone was getting along after the long overdue karate feud.

You were nursing a red solo cup while standing in the corner of the room, taking small sips. The taste of alcohol didn’t really appeal to you. Your friends engaged in chatter that you chimed in once in awhile, but you were a bit distracted.

“Are you going to talk to him or keep eye-fucking?”

“What?” Your eyes moved away from Miguel’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You guys have been staring at each other all night,” your friend pointed out. “He’s single, you’re single.” She made gestures with her hands for emphasis.

You shook your head while looking down to hide how red your face had gotten. “He doesn’t like me like that. We’re friends.”

“Lame,” your other friend bursted. “Go talk to him! Congratulate him on winning karate again or something.”

You rolled your eyes while taking a drink to avoid the conversation.

Her friend smirked suddenly with an idea. “Hey, can I borrow your jacket? I’m a little cold.”

You were feeling hot from the crowded room, so you were a little confused on how she was the opposite, but you did so nevertheless. You removed the cropped denim jacket to expose more of the little black dress you had on. You smiled while handing it to her.

Miguel felt his mouth go dry. His eyes scanned up and down your body from afar, the silk perfectly hugging your body and exposing valleys of skin he had never seen before.

A pat on his shoulder made him jump as he was forced to look away.

“Hey, man,” Hawk greeted. He noticed you and looked back at Miguel with a smirk. “You gonna make a move tonight, or what?”

Miguel chuckled nervously and shook his head. “I don’t think she likes me like that. I mean, we’ve been friends since we were both in Cobra Kai. Isn’t that a bit weird?”

Hawk scoffed. “No. That just builds up more chemistry. And pent up frustration.” Miguel looked at him curiously as he clarified. “Sexual frustration.”

“Dude.”

“It’s true! Remember that time you went out with Sam and she nearly broke some kid’s arm. Or when she got asked out and you broke the practice dummy.”

Even though Hawk’s statements were technically true, Miguel still had his doubts. What would a girl like you want with a guy like him?

“You just gotta go for it, man. Before someone else does,” Hawk advised and motioned his head towards Chris and Mitch who had started talking to you. You immediately started smiling and laughing at what they were saying.

Miguel held back a glare as he handed his cup to Hawk. He cheered, “That’s my boy!”

Your laughter died down as Miguel approached the three of you. You smiled at him in greeting that he returned before looking at Chris and Mitch.

“Robby wants you guys to refill the cooler outside,” he told them.

“But I just did five minutes ago,” Mitch said.

“Well, he wants you to do it. Again.”

Miguel was grateful Chris was the smarter one between the two as he was beginning to catch on.

“Yeah, it’s no problem.” There was almost a smug smile on Chris’ face. “Come on, man.” He began dragging Mitch away, the boy complaining that he already did once again.

That just left you and Miguel.

You glanced behind you to see your friends had ran off somewhere, of course. There was a small beat of silence between you two.

“How are you?”

“This is a great party.”

You two spoke at the same time. You both laughed.

“Sorry. You go first,” Miguel insisted.

“I said this is a great party,” you repeated. “I’m surprised your mom was okay with it.”

“Well, Johnny told her that it was just Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang ‘hanging out.’”

When you were about to respond, someone knocked into you. As you tripped forward slightly, Miguel had his arms out to catch you. You sheepishly apologized while standing straight.

“Um, did you wanna go somewhere less crowded,” he proposed.

You nodded and started following him out. People from school were still showing up and it seemed the outside was becoming just as packed. You maneuvered around while still trying to keep up with Miguel. He turned to face you and offered his hand out so you wouldn’t lose each other. You took it, trying to hide your growing smile.

He guided you across towards his apartment. He opened the door and let you inside first. You were still able to hear the music and chatter of people, but it reduced slightly. Plus, you guys were completely alone now.

“Sorry. I thought it would be better here to talk and stuff. Unless you wanted to go back to the party. I’m fine with either, I just assumed—“

“It’s fine, Miguel,” you cut him off with a light chuckle. “It was getting a little overwhelming out there.” You set your empty cup on the dining table and moved to lean on the edge of the couch.

“C-can I tell you something,” he asked, standing in front of you.

“You can tell me anything.”

Your smile made him weak in the knees. His hands suddenly felt clammy as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“I…I really like you.”

“I like you too.”

Miguel gulped. “No. I mean I like-like you. Like more than friends type of way.”

“Oh.”

Oh?

“If you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine. I get it. We’ve been friends for a long time and I understand not wanting to ruin that. It’s just that when I’m around you, I feel different. Different like you’re the one person in my life I’d hate to lose or I wouldn’t mind kissing. You know, that was probably a really weird thing to say. I’m sorry—“

“Miguel.” You laughed a bit. “It’s okay. I like-like you too.”

“Really,” he breathed out in disbelief.

You nodded. “And you’re the person I wouldn’t mind kissing either.”

Your hands reached forward to grasp his flannel and pull him closer towards you. The heels gave you an advantage to be nearly face to face with him. The close proximity made you both nervous, but someone had to make the first move.

Meeting halfway, Miguel’s lips pressed against yours in a savory kiss. His hands rested on his either side of your neck, his thumbs on the underside of your jaw and pulling you in even closer. You pulled away briefly, seeing his heart-shaped pupils and puffed lips parted. He pulled you back in with urgency.

There was only the heat of the moment, the electricity between you two, and the pure, unbridled passion of your kiss. It was a moment you would remember forever, a moment that would stay with you long after the kiss had ended.

The buzz of Miguel’s phone brought you back to Earth. He seemed to have no intention of stopping, though.

You pulled away, his lips immediately attaching to the side of your neck. “Do you wanna get that,” you asked, slightly breathless.

“Not really,” Miguel answered and kissed you again.

His phone eventually stopped until whoever was calling decided to call again. You laughed slightly at Miguel’s annoyance when he pulled away.

“It’s okay,” you reassured, one of your hands combing through his hair.

Miguel begrudgingly answered the phone with a haughty, “What?”

“Dude, where are you,” Hawk asked from the other line.

“I’m a little busy right now.” Miguel pinched your hip lightly in warning as you continued sucking on the skin of his neck.

“Well, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I need a beer pong partner.”

“Ask Robby.” Your hand began to trail down his body.

“I’m going against him, dumbass.”

He held back a groan when you squeezed his hard on over his jeans. “I gotta go.”

“But—“

Miguel hung up and tossed his phone on the couch. You yelped in surprise when he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist in response.

Once in his room, he had shut the door swiftly with his foot. Next thing you knew, you were lying back on the bed with Miguel hovering over you, leaving wet kisses and sucking on your exposed chest. One of your hands was threaded in his hair as the other tightly gripped the comforter. His hand slowly trailed up your thigh, giving a soft squeeze and earning a low moan from you.

Miguel pushed the bottom of your dress up to your stomach, exposing the black shorts underneath. He looked at you as you were panting already from the build up.

"You okay," he whispered.

"Of course."

He pecked your lips before going down on his knees at the edge of the bed. He ran his hands over your thighs, placing light kisses ever so often. Eventually, he hooked his fingers onto the waistband of your shorts and pulled them off, leaving just your underwear.

Miguel was hesitant at first as he ran his thumb over the wet patch, but you moaned softly from above as you tried closing your legs if he wasn't in the way. He repeated the motion with more pressure, causing you to jolt. He enjoyed the reactions.

He gently guided your underwear over your hips and slid them out from under you. A soft gasp emitted as you felt Miguel slip his tongue between your lips. Your mind went blank as he licked, his tongue spreading over your clit in smooth strokes. His open mouth panted heavy, moist breaths over your cunt, absorbing every drop of essence as it pooled on his tongue.

Your fingers tugged on his hair, your back arching off the bed slightly. You could feel a growing sensation low in your stomach, your orgasm twisting and winding into a tight knot.

A sudden gasp fell from your lips as he slowly pushed a finger inside of you. You inhaled sharply, eyes rolling back as he pushed his pointer finger in knuckle by knuckle until he rubbed the tip of his finger against that tougher spot inside of you.

His finger slipped in and out a few times until he added a second. It made you choke, walls clamping down and tightening painfully, tears pricking your eyes in a mix of pain and pleasure. Miguel kept them still as he leaned forward to press soft kisses on your clit.

“You're doing so good, baby. I just need to relax, okay?"

You nodded, even though you were sure he couldn't see it. You exhaled loudly, gasping just as loud before groaning and bucking your hips unconsciously. He resumed pushing in and out, his fingers shined with arousal.

You could feel every inch of his fingers inside as his mouth continued to stay hot and slick against your cunt, letting his spit collect all around. Your eyes rolled back when your stomach began twisting, feeling as though something was on your chest. You whimpered, followed by a groan of his name as your body relaxed once the knot snapped, and your vision blurred.

Miguel lapped up the mess and licked his fingers clean, watching the way your chest rose and fell rapidly. You looked utterly fucked the way your hair was sprawled out and little breaths leaving your plump lips, your head tilted to the side and eyes still shut.

He moved beside you and kissed your temple, combing your hair back. “You still got one more left for me?”

With shining eyes, you looked up at him and nodded.

Miguel grinned as he started to remove his flannel and shirt. Your thighs rubbed together while staring at him undo his jeans. You shakily stood on your knees and shuffled closer to him.

He gave you a tender, slow kiss, but you weren’t ready for such gentleness at this point in time. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. A low groan released from his throat as his hands moved from your hips to the zipper of your dress. You pulled away to disregard the rest of your clothing before pulling Miguel onto the bed.

He sat back as you straddled him, lips moving together once more. Reaching between the two of you, you grabbed his leaking cock so you could set him up at your entrance. As you lowered yourself, you inhaled slowly through your nose since the preparation and care he had given you had made the stretch easy to endure. As a result, all you felt was the full sensation he had given you.

You performed an exploratory hip roll once you were seated completely. You let out a groan at the feeling, every little motion causing electricity to tingle through your body.

Miguel sat up, you two now chest to chest while he held you firmly. “Fuck, you feel fucking amazing.” He placed wet kisses along your chest.

The noises of the party drowned out his moans as you began to ride him in earnest. His hands settled on your hips, causing the soft flesh to crease as he started responding to your thrusts with his own. You could feel him moving deeper with every motion, until eventually you could almost feel him in your stomach.

“Miguel,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze.

“I’ve got you, amor.” His mouth attached to one of your breasts, making you whimper.

His actions left your limbs feeling like rubber while he proceeded to fuck into you harder. Your tongue grazed his flushed skin, your head tucked into his neck.

“Making me feel so good,” you told him gently in his ear. “Want you to finish in me. Want all of you.”

Your babbling was cut off by a higher pitched moan at Miguel’s hard thrusts, your words egging him on more.

“Think you can take it all, baby?” His forehead pressed against yours as you nodded with a pleading look. “I’ll give you everything. Again. Again. And again.” He punctuated with each thrust, your grip on his shoulders tightening. “You gonna cum? Can feel it.”

“Please.”

Your loud moans echoed throughout the room as your legs tightened around his, your body moving faster to keep you on your high. You could feel Miguel spilling out of you, the warm feeling comforting the both of you. His arms wrapped around your waist to cease your shudders as he placed light kisses upon your shoulder.

Miguel, though he didn’t want to, slowly removed himself from you, a small whimper slipping past your lips. He laid you down on his bed and told he’d be right back. When he returned, he had a damp washcloth in one hand and a water bottle in the other. He carefully cleaned you up, knowing your legs must be sore, and sat you up to take a few sips of water.

He smiled gently at you and kissed your forehead, making your face flush in admiration. He grabbed an extra t-shirt for you and changed into a pair of new boxers for himself. Once settled beside you, Miguel draped the comforter over both of your bodies.

You both stared at each other, a grin on your lips as you leaned forward for one last kiss in the night.

hera speaks!

sorry for the long wait. i honestly get embarrassed writing smut, but this has been on my mind for a long time

[allurilove]

Yandere x Zombie you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: Body mutilation, gore, stalking, desperate and perverted man, gender neutral reader, begging, dry humping.

*He doesn’t have a name, and is referred to as “your stalker,” He only exists for reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. Here is part two! This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: It’s the zombie apocalypse, and you’re a zombie who has a little stalker/fan. He tried to offer himself to you, but you want nothing to do with him.

You’re just trying to go on about your day being a zombie, but an annoying and persistent man won’t leave you alone. He thinks he’s slick, but you see him, and best him every time.

Your stalker always hated zombies. They reeked of death, their breath sour, and their jaws claimed thousands of souls. He kept quiet as he tiptoed around, hiding his body behind a trash can as you feasted on your latest victim.

You went for the jugular, your teeth puncturing their skin, and a burst of metallic tasting blood filled your mouth. You were wild. Your whole hands, neck, chest, and face were stained with blood. You had a couple of flies around you, which you ate as a snack too.

However, with you, he was infatuated. He never once thought it was disgusting that your skin stuck to your skull, your arm twisted in an unnatural way, and how your hair was matted. Or how your clothes were torn, and you had holes in your shoes.

He tried to trap you. But unlike the other zombies, you were smart. The bear trap didn’t work, he tried to lasso you and failed, he spent time building you a cage, just for you to trap him in it.

When you went after a group of humans, he panicked. He hated when you went after a crowd, and he watched with his heart hammering. He prayed that you would survive, and rip them to shreds.

Your stalker often made sure you were well fed. He dragged an old body that remained untouched, and he purposely pushed it into your view. He winced as the body rolled down the hill and knocked you down like a bowling pin. Whoops.

After this has gone on for months, he became envious. Your attention was solely focused on the girl you trapped against the wall, he huffed and puffed, crossing his arms as the girl continued to scream. He began to wonder how it would feel to be eaten by you.

He handed himself to you like he was the best thing around. He took a shower by the lake, scrubbing his body clean from the dirt and grime. Your stalker wondered if he should just be nude so you had an easier access to him, or be clothed and make you work for it…

Your stalker whistled as he approached you, but you didn’t look at him. Your body just wandering around the abandoned building, and he waved at you. But you ignore him. He purposely laid down in front of you, but you just step on his stomach, making him groan in pain. He watched as you were on the move again, and he grabbed onto your ankle.

“Wait— please!” He tried to bargain with you, “I swear I taste good!” Your stalker whined as you just drag him around, trying to go on about your day again. He decided to do something drastic.

Your stalker needed your attention. He needed to feel your hands on him. He stuffed his mouth with his sock, and he picked up his blade. He jumped a couple of times and his joggers slipped down a bit, enough for him to pull out his member.

It hurt like a bitch. He bit down hard onto the sock as his tears welled up in his eyes, he cut his member from the base— wanting to give you the whole thing.

He handed you his cock, and you took the phallic looking thing in your hands. With some sick perversion he wanted to see you eat it, to hold it in your hands, and watch it disappear down your throat.

He’s seen you eat raccoons, rats, pigeons, and decomposed maggot filled bodies rotting away in the hot summer sun, their guts spilled open, and there was barely any flesh left to eat. He’s seen you dig through trash and shove it in your face.

He watched you tear into your own arm after not being able to find something to feed on for weeks. He watched you bite into a pee soaked leg after the human pissed itself after seeing your morbid face.

And yet you wouldn’t eat his freshly cut dick?

You looked at him with an unamused expression.

Your stalker frowned, his hands snatching back his body part after you refused to eat it. His hands were shaking, and his legs about to give out— due to his wound he haphazardly wrapped with bandages. His ego was bruised.

You continued to stare at him with disgust, as if you haven’t done something as vile as this. But to be fair, it wasn’t your fault that you were eating humans. It was the damn virus.

First, you don’t care to eat him. Second, you barely seem interested in him. And now third, you’re rejecting his offering? This was enough to make a grown man cry.

“Is it too small for you?” He pouted. “I- I happen to be a grower-“

He swore he saw you roll your eyes. For someone who barely had any mobility except for shuffling around, you had the gall to roll your eyes. You just groan. You try to wave your arm at him— to dismiss him, but you just smacked his face.

“Am I not appealing to you?” He glared at you, his face turning pale. His pants are soaked in blood, and he twitched.

The man fell down to his knees, throwing his dismembered cock to the side, and he clasped his hands together. His breath is ragged, and looked at you as if you were an angel who could take him out of his misery.

And so you do.

Most of your victims are scared, clawing at your arms and leaving red harsh marks on your skin, but he holds you closer. He moaned as your body was pressed up against his— chest to chest. You sat right on his hips. His blood tasted like nectar, it was pleasant and sweet. Your tongue swiped at his sweat.

“Oh god yes! Please eat me!” He cried out, and his fingers dig into your rib cage as you start to grind onto him.

He was already on deaths door step, his heart beat slowing down, and his grip slightly loosened. Your stalker’s moans, and the chanting of your name quiets. It wasn’t long before he let out his last breath.

Your stomach is full and you’re satisfied.

[captainreecejames]

Can't Have a Good Thing || My ex is a footballer LS2 edition

[masterlist][my ex series masterlist]

summary you go from dating an american footballer to an american driver

pairings ex!christian pulisic x reader, logan sargeant x reader

warnings probably a little anti pulisic but i still love my baby

notes pictures are from pinterest so thank you to all those lovely users (as I wrote this my english teacher from 11th grade came into my job and it was not fun!)

May 2023 ynusername posted -------

liked by cmpulisic, reece and others

ynusername final chelsea game of the season, love you guys

chelseafc awww we love you too yn ❤️ by author

cmpulisic always love having you there ↳ ynusername wouldn't want to be anywhere else

username1 look at my girl dawg, chelsea is embarrassing her ↳ username2 please, christian didn't even play

reece once a blue always a blue ↳ username3 NAH WHY IS THIS SO CRYPTIC ↳ username4 you can't say shit like this then leave DUDE

username5 that chrisyn interaction screams for help ↳ username6 i wouldn't be surprised if they're not dating anymore but trying to keep up appearances ↳ username7 breakup statement incoming ↳ username8 can we get fabrizio to comment on wag breakups please!! ↳ username7 lol can you imagine a here we go! breakup is official! peak comedy

cesarazpilicueta 💙 ↳ ynusername love you too capitan!

July 2023 real life ---------

It’s been a rough few months in the house for the two of you. Christian’s time at Chelsea was most likely coming to an end, and you had just started a new project at work, so your time was filled with that. Nights spent making dinner and laughing together turned to plates left in the microwave and lights out early. Mornings started with short wake up kisses to hardly whispered goodbyes.

In fewer words, the relationship was falling apart. You barely knew what was going on in each others lives anymore, it’s no surprise when he tells you he’s leaving Chelsea.

Chris is still in Florida with his family, enjoying the last few days off before preseason. You had been with him for the 4th of July, but needed to fly back to London almost immediately for a new project and you’re exhausted. When he Facetimes you it’s almost 11:30 at night and your still sitting in your home office, but with how excited Chris is, he can’t tell that you’re operating on extremely low levels of energy. You want to be excited for him, but you can see the writing on the wall.

“Hey babe.” You know what’s coming, but it doesn’t make the shock any less. “I’ve got some big news.” He waits for you to say something, but all you do is blink and nod. “AC Milan are going to sign me.” He waits again for you to say something. “Did you hear me? I’m leaving Chelsea.”

“Yeah, I heard you.” Your lack of enthusiasm confuses Christian.

“Then why aren’t you excited?”

Your apathy turns to frustration quickly and you shift in the chair. “Because, Christian, I’m not just going to blow up my life in London to follow you to a new city. I’ve got a job here and it’s going well. I don’t want to have to start all over again. Not to mention learning a whole new language. Have you considered how isolating that would be for me?”

“So what, I just rot at Chelsea because you don’t want to move?” He is now just as defensive as you, words biting at the holes that have formed in your relationship, making them grow.

“I didn’t say that!” You sit up even straighter, putting your phone down against the computer so it stands on it’s own.

“Well it sounds like you don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want to pack up my life and move to a new country where I don’t know anyone.”

You could see the fight leave his body as he came to the same realization you did. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“I think we’re done Chris.” You can feel your heart break that last little bit with the words you say. You love Christian, but with everything you’ve gone through, it’s not enough.

twitter ---------

September 2023 real life ------

In one hand you held your phone, looking down at the details of your train back to London, in the other a hot chocolate to warm you up in the brisk wind of Oxford. It’s how you missed the body in front of you and ended up falling straight on your ass because of it, hot chocolate splashing onto your shirt.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, pulling your shirt away from your body so it didn’t burn.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” said an American accent. You groaned in your head, not wanting to deal with this. “I should’ve been looking where I was going.” They put a hand in your face, gesturing to help you up, which you took. 

“No, it was my fault, I was staring at my phone,” you told them as they pulled you up. He was strong, and also probably a little awkward as he was still holding your hand.

“Me too, so I really won’t let you take the blame.” His awkward smile was also cute, but you tried not to think that, it wouldn’t agree with your ‘no boys agenda.’ “Do you need another hot chocolate?” The cup was empty at your feet, making you wince. 

“Yeah, probably another shirt too.” It’s at that point that he realizes he’s still holding your hand, and he drops it.

“Let me get you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You’re still very early for the train, but travel anxiety is terrible and you want to leave soon.

“I insist.” Something about his smile and red cheeks makes you say yes to him, and you’re really not sure why. “I’m Logan, by the way.” He’s leading you back into the line of the cafe, smiling at you still.

“I’m YN,” you tell him.

ynusername posted ---------

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ynusername exploring oxford finally

bsfinstagram babe you run into any quidditch players ↳ ynusername bitch you know i'm swearing off athletes

username7 damn why are you so beautiful

samkerr 💞 ↳ ynusername ugh bestie i love you

pulisick10 'SWEARING OFF ATHLETES?' Christian mate pulisic what did you do!?! ↳ username8 that is so fucking harsh though like pulisic really did a number on our girl here ↳ pulisick10 ben chilwell still in the likes tho ↳ username8 nah her and ben are friends, like ben was always close with christian and just cause he left doesn't mean that she can't be friends still ↳ username8 also she's still good friends with the women's team ↳ pulisick10 well that's cause the women are better ❤️ by ynusername and bsfinstagram ↳ username8 NOT HER LIKING THAT but also won't argue with that

logansargeant at least the weather was good ↳ ynusername youre right, thank you english sun who comes out once in a blue moon ↳ bsfinstagram I'm questioning things ↳ ynusername well you shouldn't

username11 she's sworn off athletes but has a formula 1 driver in her comments... ↳ username12 fake bitch ↳ username13 two people can be friends right? ↳ username12 she breaks up with christian because of the distance but is talking a driver like he isn't gone more than half the year, she's definitely fake for that ↳ username13 how do you know that's why they broke up ↳ username14 she doesn't she's just being a hater ❤️ by ynusername ↳ username11 damn all this fighting on my comment thread?

username12 not yn liking so many comments, do you read them ↳ ynusername gotta appreciate a good laugh ↳ username13 yn stalks her comments like a real one should

twitter ---------

yn's messages -----------

November 2023 yn's messages ------------

real life --------

Your hotel room is kind of a mess, with clothes thrown around and various pieces of paper on the floor. It’s not really a surprise to Logan, even though he hasn’t known you very long.

After a long day exploring New York City in fairly okay weather, the two of you are relaxing in your hotel room before dinner. “Can I ask you something?” Logan asks. He’s currently sitting in the desk chair, feet propped up on the desk and head hung back. 

“Go ahead.” You’re on your bed, laying like a starfish.

“Would you say yes to going on a date with me?” You sit up straight, staring at him with wide eyes as he doesn’t move.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“No, I’m asking if you’d say yes to me asking you on a date.” His clarification makes you narrow your eyes, but he still doesn’t move. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

That gets him moving, turning the chair to look at you. “So would you say yes or no?”

“I’d say no right now.”

“What about in a month?”

“In a month, when we’re both back in England, I’d probably say yes.”

“Cool,” he shrugs, going back to putting his feet on the desk. “Then I’ll ask you again in January.”

ynusername posted ---------

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon and others

ynusername look who came to visit

lilymhe booooo bring me next time ↳ ynusername you're welcome whenever, he invited himself ↳ logansargeant literally not true you asked me to come ↳ ynusername stop lying! i wanted thanksgiving but you have this job that makes you fly across the world to drive a stupid car or something

oscarpiastri look at him jumping for joy for you ↳ ynusername yeah well, what can i say, I'm a dream come true

bsfinstagram ahhhh just under 2 weeks until you come home!! ↳ ynusername I missed you so much ↳ bsfinstagram debrief over wine incoming!

username18 nope she is definitely dating this driver ↳ username19 it's so weird cause like if she really broke up with christian because of distance then isn't this just so much worse ↳ username20 i don't think they broke up just because of distance, things were probably weird for a couple of months before hand cause she wasn't going to as many mens games, she was definitely going to the women's games though.

timothyweah did you get a hotdog from the hotdog guy? ↳ ynusername yes... why? ↳ timothyweah cause they're good and i just want to make sure that you did ↳ ynusername okay timmy

chelseafcw don't stay too long we miss you ↳ ynusername aww, i miss you guys too

May 2024 ynusername posted--------

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

ynusername Miami you can be pretty but you're on my shit list

landonorris no whyyyyy ↳ ynusername idk might have something to do with my boyfriend dnfing at his home race. ↳ landonorris oh, okay ↳ ynusername but i guess congrats on your win ↳ landonorris thanks ynnnnn! ↳ oscarpiastri someone is still drunk

logansargeant ohhh he's handsome ↳ ynusername yeah and he's got a jealous ass girlfriend so beware ↳ logansargeant love you too babe

username23 finally confirmed that they're dating only seven months later

[yooniivrse]

early mornings | myg

summary. when time seems to bend every morning and love speaks through tender touches and quiet reassurances.

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pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, tooth-rotting fluff

word count: 1k

content: yoongi and oc wake up in each others arms / they love each other a bit too much and they make it pretty clear / they kiss a lot :3

warnings: fear of abandonment (kind of? if you squint??), allusions to sex

notes: idk why i'm procrastinating the third part of 'stumble into you' so bad, but this is a result of me still wanting to write something. also, ignore the images at the top if they don’t go well together, i’m too lazy to actually put in effort today 😭 likes, reblogs, comments, and asks are all greatly appreciated!! i love you guys and i hope you enjoy <33333

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main masterlist

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Amber rays spill across the room, seeping between the gaps in the curtains and kissing your bare skin with its golden warmth.

Yoongi stirs under the sheets, attempting to untangle his limbs from you, who lay beside him. But your arms only tighten around him, and he quickly gives in to the comforts of your touch.

With your head on his chest and his arm secure under your head, he can't help the lazy smile that draws across his lips.

He's always loved early mornings with you; when neither of you have to think about anything else but each other; when time feels like it ceases to exist; when nothing else mattered, because why would it when you had each other?

You were his home; his universe; his first thought in the morning and the most frequent visitor of his dreams. Everything reminded him of you, and it was maddening. But he welcomed the longing with open arms, because he was a fool.

Because he knew that it was worth being foolish if it meant having you.

Yoongi places a kiss on your forehead, his lips pressing against a few strands of hair that lay messily across your face. The scent of your skin, faintly sweet like the lavender soap you use, lingers in the air as Yoongi buries his nose in your hair, taking in the quiet of the morning, broken only by the soft hum of your breathing. He moves his hand to rest over yours, running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles.

He doesn't expect the gentle action to wake you, but your eyes flutter open. You hum, the sound quiet and laced with exhaustion as you stretch out your body.

Your eyes light up when you meet his gaze and the butterflies in his stomach erupt, fluttering around wildly.

"Morning," you whisper. You peck his lips with a soft kiss.

"Morning," Yoongi echoes. A faint blush paints his features, and a giggle tumbles from your mouth. Yoongi catches the sound with another kiss; then a third one that lingers for a few seconds longer than the others.

It is almost embarrassing to admit the effect you had on him. You've been together for years, and known each other for even more. He knows every dip and curve of your body and you have seen him through all of his highs and lows. Yet, a kiss from you still has him blushing.

"Missed me?" you tease, and he hums in agreement.

"A lot." He kisses corner of your lips and the curve of your jaw. "You're so pretty."

You laugh; a soft sound that rings through the air. It has always been Yoongi's favourite melody-the one sound that made his heart swell and his eyes crinkle into crescent moons to accommodate his growing smile.

He tucks a few strands of your hair behind your ear, letting his hand stay to cup your cheek so that he can bring his lips to yours again. He’s addicted to the way your lips fit perfectly with his, and no matter how often he kisses you, it’s never enough

And you can't stop smiling.

The feeling that courses under your skin is almost overwhelming. It still feels surreal—that kind of love, where just being with him made the world right

The possibility of losing Yoongi terrifies you, but it's a fear that follows you everyday. Sometimes, you expect to wake up one day only to realise that this is all a cruel dream, or to find the house suddenly void of his belongings and his presence.

Sometimes, the fear creeps in before you can stop it, a quiet panic that gripped you in the space between sleep and waking. You’d reach out, half-afraid to find the bed cold and empty. But then, your hand would meet the warmth of his skin, and the fear dissolved into nothing. Because every morning, he's here. Solid, warm, and real, wrapped up in the sheets beside you. His sleepy eyes, the soft curve of his lips, the way he pulls you closer as if you’re his anchor—it’s all so undeniably Yoongi, and it makes your heart flutter with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

You press your forehead to his, noses brushing, as if the closer you hold him, the more real this will become. Yoongi's fingers trail lightly over your skin, tracing invisible patterns that make you shiver.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs, voice raspy but tender, like he's always known your thoughts even before you speak them.

You let out a soft sigh, trying to find the words, but they dissolve on your tongue when his hand glides over your waist, settling at the small of your back.

“You’re here,” you whisper, more to yourself than him. It's a quiet confession of the relief that washes over you each time you wake up to find him still beside you. He smiles against your skin, a low hum of agreement in his throat. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here."

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, his voice carrying the weight of every unspoken assurance. "You know that I'll always be right here-right beside you, whenever you need me."

For a moment, the world falls away. There’s no fear of loss, no dread of waking up alone. It’s just him, his presence grounding you, his breath steady and warm against your neck. The intimacy of the moment swells between you, a shared heartbeat that drowns out the rest of the world.

Your legs tangle beneath the sheets as he pulls you even closer, his hand finding yours under the covers. His touch is gentle, tender, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you, and in the glow of the early morning, you feel more connected to him than ever.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his skin seep into yours, feeling utterly safe in his embrace.

And in that moment, you know—this is home.

[softestqueeen]

soapy heaven

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: taking a lovely shower with your lovely boyfriend aka spencer reid going crazy for you washing his hair

warnings: pure teeth rotting fluff

wordcount: 700 words

a/n: so this is inspire by this post! i loved writing this and i am quite happy with how it turned out. it's not perfect but it's late, i'm tired but happy and i wanted to post it today! so enjoy <3

„Can I join you?”

“Hm?” Spencer asked from inside the shower, his head peaking out from behind the shower curtain.

“Can I join you?” you repeat.

“In the shower?”

“Yes, of course in the shower, you silly,” you let out a giggle at his expression. Furrowed eyebrows and eyes like a dear caught in headlights.

After a moment he snapped out of it. “Uhm- yea, of course”

You didn’t need more convincing and swiftly shed your clothing. Stepping into the shower with Spencer, he stepped aside so you could get under the warm stream. You could feel the insecurity practically radiating off Spencer, so you made the first stepped and wrapped your arms around him, engulfing him into a warm hug, your arms meeting behind his head. Your boyfriend immediately relaxes into your hold, his hands instinctively wrapping around your waist.

“Well, hello there pretty boy,” you whisper against his lips before finally connecting them and kissing him.

Not wanting this to go further you lean back again, tracing a droplet of water that made its way over his face with your finger. Spencer still had his eyes closed from the kiss, his head now slightly leaning back and enjoying your gentle touches. He would gladly entertain this as long as you kept your hands on him.

He opened his eyes again, leaned forward and placed a short but lingering kiss on your lips. With gentle hands he led you under the stream again, before reaching for his bottle of shampoo. You quickly noticed what he was about to do and interrupted him with a quick wait!

He looked at you, puzzled. “Let me,” you tell him with a smile on your face.

You grab the bottle of shampoo out of the genius’ hand before squeezing a generous amount of it into your hand, softly lathering it up in your hands, before letting them glide though his brown locks.

Spencer couldn’t believe that something so simple, so mundane and casual could be this intimate and could feel oh so good. He couldn’t remember a time where washing his hair felt like something that connected you two, that made him really feel the connection between you.

Your hands felt heavenly in his hair, softly massaging the shampoo into his scalp. Spencer had closed his eyes again, only letting out a sigh in surprise when you start placing soft little kisses all over his wet face, your hands never halting their motion in his hair. He occasionally let out little groans – especially when you slightly pulled on certain strands of his hair – but also didn’t complain when you pull him under the warm spray of the shower to wash out the shampoo.

Still, he was almost sad about the fact that you would have to leave the shower and this perfect moment soon.

Thankfully, you reached for his bottle of conditioner, repeating your little routine or what Spencer strongly hoped would become one. The whole time he felt like he was floating, already in heaven, with your hands in his hair and your lips on his face.

This feeling only intensified when you took his bar of soap and slowly started to lather up his body with the most gentle hands. They wandered over his arms, into his armpits, over his torso, the top of his thighs and after just as gently turning him around also over his back.

Your boyfriend turned around again, and when you pulled him under the water to rinse off the soap, you pressed yourself against him, making him chuckle.

Now, he couldn’t just let your time stop here. He insisted on doing the same thing for you. With quiet whispered instructions and just as many sweet nothings, he managed to follow your hair care routine, definitely taking inspiration from you when he also started leaving kisses on your face.

When it was time to leave his new safe heaven, he wasn’t quite as sad anymore. He only thought about the fact that he got to curl up with you under the comforter now and hold you in his arms again.

And maybe, just maybe, take a shower with you again, tomorrow.  

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated! i’d like to write more with criminal minds characters, so if you have any ideas/requests lmk!!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

requests open! also if you want to be added to my taglist, just reach ou!

taglist: @silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@BigBananaa some other people that interacted with my initial post: @lleomoon @annebirdwhistles @miriamnox @vaaaeeeee @reidrot @nnab @futuremrsreid