raeinyourdreams
raeinyourdreams
đ—Œđ–Ÿđ—żđ—źđ—Č ♡
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"here, kitty kitty.."
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raeinyourdreams · 1 month ago
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i got broken up with..... so i'm back!!
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raeinyourdreams · 2 months ago
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the world is ugly by mcr :)
ATTENTION
If you see this you are OBLIGATED to reblog w/ the song currently stuck in your head :)
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raeinyourdreams · 3 months ago
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had a campy slash crazy stupid idea for a fic
alien joel au
 no walk with me for a second because a sexy alien bf who has no clue what sex entails for humans because
he’s an alien duh? you can teach him to be an eater
you can be his first earth girl
YOU CAN TEACH HIM TO BE AN EATER?
is anyone here for that? like does anyone really want that? if so can you please call me, RIGHT NOW.
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raeinyourdreams · 5 months ago
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what’s the point of having a boyfriend if he doesn’t moan like a girl
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raeinyourdreams · 6 months ago
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i'd open my legs so fast i'm sorry
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nosferatu is abt to be my number 1 hear me out. man said “you are my affliction” “i cannot be sated without you” “i am an appetite, nothing more” HELLO?????
thinking about toxic!ex!simon.....
The banging on the door is relentless, a pounding that vibrates through the frame and straight into your chest. It’s raining so hard that it sounds like the sky itself is cracking open, drowning out his muffled voice on the other side. But you hear him anyway, broken and raw. “Let me in. For fuck’s sake, please let me in.”
Your stomach twists. You don’t want to see him. You shouldn’t see him. But your hand moves to the lock on instinct, and when you open the door, the sight of him makes your breath catch.
Simon is on the edge of ruin. Rain streaks down his face, plastering his hoodie to his skin, his hair curling and dripping. His mask is gone, leaving him exposed in a way you’ve never seen before. His eyes—wild, bloodshot, hollow—meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you says a word. He's on the verge of self-destruction.
Then, before you can speak, he collapses to his knees.
It’s not graceful. It’s not controlled. It’s desperate. His body hits the ground with a thud, his palms catching against the threshold like they’re the only thing holding him together. You take a step back, expecting him to get up, to say something sharp or clipped, but he doesn’t. He leans forward, and...
He crawls.
He crawls inside like a wounded mutt, breathing ragged and uneven. His massive hands dragging against the floor until they find your legs. You try to move back, but he follows, until his forehead is pressed to your stomach, his massive frame trembling as he clutches at you. His fingers dig into your hips, holding onto you like he's drowning, his head tilting back to look up at you.
You try to pull away, but his grip tightens. “Don’t,” he growls, the sound guttural, primal. The look in his eyes is feral—something broken and starving and so goddamn human it makes your heart ache.
“Y'don’t get it,” he spits, his voice trembling. “I can't be sated without ya, love, don’t y'see? You’re in me. You’re fuckin' inside me, and no matter what I do, I can’t tear y'out.”
He buries his face against you again, messily planting his lips against any ounce of skin open to worship. “I’ll fuckin' beg. I’ll get on m'knees—between y'thighs—every night if I have to. Just—don’t leave me again. Please. I’ll fuckin' die without you.”
You inhale sharply, your hands hovering at your sides as his shoulders shake. The rain drips from him, pooling on your floor, but he doesn’t care. He clutches at you tighter, his voice dropping into something dark and guttural. “I'm an appetite, nothing more. I was made to need ya, to crave ya. And I can’t—” His voice cracks, and he presses his face harder into you, his breath hot and ragged through his sobs. “I can’t fuckin' live without you, baby—please.”
You should push him away, should tell him to leave, but instead, you stand frozen, overwhelmed by the storm of him—the raw hunger, the consuming despair, the way he folds himself into you, desperate to make himself whole again. He’s feral, ruined, a shadow of himself, and all of it is for you.
How could you deny him?
mlist
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raeinyourdreams · 6 months ago
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simon riley was not wrapped under my tree this morning but merry christmas I guess 😒
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raeinyourdreams · 6 months ago
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reblog this to pet the user you reblogged from please
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raeinyourdreams · 7 months ago
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... 💌: (another) wip wednesday!
let's ignore that it's thursday night (again!!) but i'm done with finals!! so hopefully i'll post something soon :> tysm for the tag again @sceletaflores <3 angst under the cut
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- 'birds of a feather'
this is actually my first request ever! i'm so excited to get it out, it's taking longer than expected because i want it to be perfect aughh. 😖
basically, reader was married to logan (in dp3 universe) and was also laura's foster mother. in worst!logan's universe, reader was a friend who he had feelings for (and so did she!! love mutual pining), but then she died along with the other x-men. they meet again in this universe and try to remain friends to honor the other person's respective death, but who's gonna stop them from waltzing back into rekindled flames? ... no that's not loml by taylor swift.....
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It hit you harder than a freight train.
You never expected it. You knew it was bound to happen, but not like this. Oh god, not like this.
It was a giver - though you didn’t wanna believe it, for the longest time - when Laura arrived to North Dakota to meet you, who had gone separately to secure a spot for her, and him, your family, and even though the sight of the girl being finally home safe brought you comfort, the pit in your stomach grew with the fact that Logan wasn’t in sight.
It absolutely broke your heart, you knew what was coming, your husband wasn’t the same man from before, he scarred and healed in more time, like a human. Too entwined in the hope of getting to the Eden safe, find a place for it to happen in peace. You thought you still had more time.
Laura looked at you shocked, face puffy and red as she stood by your door. She’d been crying, it was obvious. In this light, it was like momentarily, you forgot every killing machine, “better version of logan” aspect of her essence, and took her for what she still was at the end of the day: A little girl, a little girl who had just lost her dad.
Her gaze makes your heart drop. You dread the question, but it still slips out in a brittle whisper.
“.. ¿Dónde está tu papá?” That enough is to make Laura’s face twist again in agony, as if she had been the one impaled.
She’s only able to mutter a faint “Ma-” before her voice is cut off by the sobs ripping through her throat, her little shoulders shaking as she sobs. You run to hold her, soothe her for as long as she needs, but nothing comes out of you, it hasn’t hit you yet.
She hands you a ring, his ring, it was made of adamantium, as was yours, a vow of his love to you, the smallest action to him that meant the world to you. He gave you his bones to wear, he’d give you his skin to wear if it meant you didn’t have to bear the cold.
He loved you so much.
Which is why you knew he’d never take it off.
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that's all i'm working on for now 😭 expect this soon and an increase on.. *rustling of papers, adjusting glasses* ... simon riley fanfiction? jesus, what year is it? 2022? (jk i will always be down bad for this brit)
yeah.... bring back cod men babygirlification.
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no pressure tags: @loganhowlettshousewife @buck-star @silverskyeline @dilf-docs <33
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raeinyourdreams · 7 months ago
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me rn cooking up worst!logan smut
"dick" "pathetic" "moan" "pussy" "desperate" "wet" "needy" "cock"
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raeinyourdreams · 7 months ago
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Oh my god! 😍
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raeinyourdreams · 7 months ago
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When Simon retired, he'd initially thought that he'd pursue interests he enjoyed during his military career. He'd believed that with the opportunity, he would spend countless hours in the gym, running or at the shooting range. More mundane interests were never what he saw himself engaging in.
More specifically - bird watching.
He'd developed a genuine obsession with it. Having moved out of the city, the birds were one of the first things he noticed. Over the following weeks, he'd spent time getting to know the calls of the birds living and nesting near his house - and then picked up an encyclopaedia on English birds coincidentally at his local charity shop. One he didn't intend on actually reading, that said. Then he'd noticed a woodpecker going at one of the trees at the foot of his garden, and only checked the book to see when it'd be going. Or so he'd told himself.
Simon would never confess the fact that he actually found solace in sitting on the bench at his backdoor, with a set of secondhand binoculars, his book and a notepad. He definitely didn't intend on making it a habit, either.
But, of course, he did, Actually, he loved it - loved the reminder that the world carried on around him, and even though his life had ground to a halt, the seasons changed and the world kept turning. The birds kept singing and building their nests, and in the spring, the chicks would hatch and learn to fly, and everything would carry on. With or without him.
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raeinyourdreams · 7 months ago
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i am.. so chalant about this. under the cut
GWOOOORLL i honestly forgot about how HOT i found eddie (.... and venom WHAT (i meant what i said)), but like celine said,it's all coming back to me.
this story was soo good, the dialogue had me HOOKED. the way ed talks to the reader is SOOO AAAAHHH. not only the smut, but the angsty bits too, he's so gentle ):
"Listen, y/n" "Y-yes?"/"tell me, Eddie." "Fuck. Baby, no" "No, no. Shit, I'm sorry."
this part really made my chest tighten but maybe it's cause im an empath like that (LMAO EW)
don't even get me started on the smut.
"Seriously, Eddie? How can you go from vulnerable to horny?" "Both are states of vulnerable!"
thats so me LMAO
"Someone c-could find us, Eddie" "Let them"
HELLOOOO? (yes pls)
OMG and ALSO!1!
I will be the one. | You'll never be the one. | "You're the one, y/n"
honorary mention to these parallels, intentional or not!! i loved them
overall i ate this UP!! read this like three times and heard the song, I LOVE IT RAAHHHHH
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Hello! I love what you write it’s amazing! ✹
Can I request an Eddie Brock one where the reader is her neighbor and they are pretty close and she’s in love with him but he’s still obsessed with Anne, and one day she sees him really sad (about Anne) and invites him to see her band and she starts playing (The one- The Warning) and idk something interesting happens:0
Take A Chance On Me
eddie brock x younger fem!reader
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summary: being in a relationship with eddie is a bliss! except for when he mourns his ex relationship with anne, which unfortunately, seems to be pretty much all the time. in the middle of all that sulking, you come up with an idea. will you be able to make him choose you this time?
warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, situationship lol, so angst!!, sunshine!reader x grumpy!eddie (he's still mopping around), hurt/comfort, exhibition kink, fingering, oral (f. receiving), p. in v., riding, creampie, you can tell i've been listening to ABBA ijbol, no venom :(
word count: 4,394 words
side note: hi, tysm for requesting! since this request is very specific lol but has similar themes to my previous eddie work i decided to make it as a follow-up in the neighbours au; not a series yet but it was an interesting idea to add to their dynamic!!! hope you like it <3 in case you wanna read the previous part for context as to where this two are it's here
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Ever since that night, your relationship with Eddie has grown. Hell, you may say you're a day away from being official any time.
And there are time's when you're so sure of it, like when he stops by your apartment and kisses you like there's no one else in the world; to later make you come hard with the lights off (hey! you gotta start a tradition or two).
But there are other times when you knock on his door and he doesn't open, only for you to use your spare key, finding the room scented with empty bottles, your neighbor mumbling something like Anne through his sad pouty lips.
Yes, Anne. A name that makes you seethe like it burns; a ghost that haunts the spaces of silence where Eddie seems to doubt what the hell is he doing: why is he there―with you.
Your heart feels heavy, and it feels sort of pathetic that it's his hurting what hurts you the most. In the end, things are like this: you love helping people, your empathy may be infinite and you're sure you've never loved anyone like you love Eddie Brock before.
So it's this combination of things that makes you take the following decision, hoping to make him pass the page, so whenever he gets drunk again, all his lips will ever whisper is your name over and over again; that his sadness belongs to him, and not the only person that seems to be keeping you away from your happy ending, even if they don't know about it.
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To Eddie, you're the sweetest thing in the world. Nobody kisses like you do, hugs with the tightness you do, loves as much as you do, fucks as good as you do or bakes killer cookies like yours.
That list does nothing but grow, as he is constantly mesmerized by every new little thing he learns about you: your favorite movies, the new recipes you try (he's more than happy to beta taste them for you), the way you sing (you do have a good voice that made him squirm at the other secret talent you had) and your kindness, which has done more hurt than good lately: because Eddie can't fathom the idea of you, taking care of him during his sad drunken mopping nights, while listening to everything about Anne on repeat.
He knows it hurts you, that he's starting to create creaks in your relationship, the hope slowly fading away from your eyes each passing day, doubts creeping up your smile, erasing that shiny beautiful light of yours; it's the only thing stopping him from calling you his girlfriend, and still, he can't stop.
It's like a vice at this point, and he wonders if he'll ever sober out of it.
So today he knocks on your door, hoping to set things straight even if a part of his heart still beats for Anne. It may be selfish, but after you came in his life, he can't imagine it without you.
But when you open up, he's at loss for words.
"Why are you wearing that?"
You scoff. "Hope it's not an offense, judging by your tone"
His eyes roam over your body, and even if you tend to be more on the confident side, you can't help but feel shy. After all, he's never seen you like this before: all glam.
It's a jacket, well his jacket, a small black top and black very short shorts. You surely are playing the part tonight, switching your usual pink and sunflower bubbly style to something more... rock.
"Why?" is all he asks, and you feel obligued to answer. Besides, you were going to knock on his door after getting out, not expecting he did it first. The surprise is ruined, but his incredulous eyes suffice for now.
"So, my friend has this band" you explain, "and they just got sick. The thing is, they had a gig today in a bar where they're regulars, so naturally, cancelling at last minute is not an option"
"And?" you love how oblivious he can be sometimes.
"And, I found a replacement" his face remains blank, so you sigh a little dissapointed but deliver with chirp, "me!"
"You?"
You roll your eyes, "is there a problem?"
"No!" he corrects hastily, "I'm just surprised, that's all. I know you like to sing, and have a good voice! But there's a huge gap between that and well, playing in a gig"
"I know, but I used to have a band when I was in highschool; I'm used to this things"
His mouth falls a bit, and maybe his head starts to cloud with ideas of your clashing new style and angel like voice; or maybe it's you wearing his jacket, a garment of his for you to bear in public: a first. It's a bit stupid and too daydream-ish for his liking, so he blurts:
"I didn't know that"
Your laugh is so light, it feels like wind blowing across a field.
"Oh, Eddie baby" he blushes at the pet name and endearing tone, your voice dropping like it does whenever you want something he's more than willing to give you, "there's a lot you don't know about me"
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In the end, you convinced Eddie to join you, who, if you're being honest, didn't need that much convincing.
He was sold just with the idea of seeing you sing, which intrigued him. There's a huge difference in your drunk karaoke nights that annoyed your neighbors and playing live in a gig. Eddie wants to see what you have to offer, and as for you? Well, this is your plan: your plan to make him forget about Anne once and for all.
It may be silly and immature but hey, you're young! It's okay to be wrong and possessive sometimes, and your friend just did you the favor of faking an illness to give you a spot to shine and put that voice of yours to use, that's a bit rusty since your highschool days. So, no pressure! Your potential boyfriend is on the crowd and ruining this would cost your kind friend their job. Good thing your optimism doesn't seem to expire, because Lord! Your hands are trembling and sweaty when you hold a microphone again for the first time in a little more than a decade.
"Hey" you exit out of the curtain, and the dim lights now bright up a little, directing themselves towards you, "good evening"
You hear a bit of muffled voices that sound confused, asking for your friend, and you can tell the crowd are regulars. Yikes.
"I'm here on behalf of Isha. They're sick, so I'm covering just for tonight" you decide to go for a little jokey joke to light up the otherwise judgemental room, that seems to be testing you―like they know all your weak spots; smell your nerves. "So don't like me too much, as I'm a one time thing"
Eddie laughs, but covers it with a cough when he realizes the room is awfully quiet.
"Okay, uh, for tonight's set, I've got a few things prepared" you fumble a bit with the papers where the lyrics are (you've always liked to be a bit old fashioned), like you're clumsy and it's your first time, not reflecting the fact that this idea has been simmering for a while―every song rehearsed and planned. "Songs, I mean, I've got a few songs prepared"
You start with something smooth, which makes people divert their attention back to whatever they were doing. To you, that's a bit dissapointing, but as long as they don't judge and Eddie keeps his eyes on you, you think you can make it.
But what where you really thinking? Being optimistic means you're often let down, as your pink bright ideas end up crushed by the real gray world. And you can handle it―as you're no weak, but resorting to singing a song that feels oddly specific about the situationship you're currently living in hopes of making Eddie forget his ex fiancĂ©e and get whooped by your mesmerizing voice is actually kind of crazy!
But yeah, now you're nearing the end of the set list and almost everyone's eyes are on you. Of course, Eddie is the most attentive, taking every word that pours out of your melodic mouth like if he's thirsty, and your voice is the only thing that can help him. He never leaves your silhouette, and it may be you dreaming, but there's something like guilt and love behind his eyes; torn. Yeah, you do feel like you're dreaming, and it's been so long since you felt this alive; you kind of forgot how happy singing made you.
As the crowd is engaged, you find it fitting to make a pause and announce the next song. You know your voice comes out as shaky, but hope people think it's about tiredness and not nerves. Why are you nervous, thought? People love you! It's because this is the final part of your plan: singing this song you used to be obssesed long ago, but now seems to perfectly sum up those raw, angry and vulnerable feelings fo yours you're simply not used to; they say music helps us put a name to that we can't, and that has never been more true.
"For the next song, well, our last song" a few booing echos in the crowd, and you can't believe you made it this far. Maybe Isha did lost their job, "it's called The One, by The Warning. Hope you enjoy"
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Eddie's had such a blast tonight, he hasn't noticed the past of time, completely lost when you announce the last song. Among other things he's forgotten, is the fact he was supposed to talk today with you about the future of your relationship.
It's kind of your fault: how can he remain focused with such display in front of him?
The band begins playing, and soon, your voice fills the air:
I'll do anything to make it happen
Tell me your secrets, what are you hiding?
Some people sing along the lyrics, while others just listen attentively. You make it to a part of the song that sounds like:
Can you explain to me what's this feeling?Love it or hate it, it's never leaving. Want to believe, that you feel it too.
Oh, Eddie feels nauseous. The lyrics hit a bit too close to home, and he fills called out in the room of oblivious people.
He can hear your vocals breaking a bit, as raw as he's never heard before. He feels so bad, he's about to make the most ridiculous thing of his life and jump onto the stage to hug you, but he can't interrupt you. So he sits there, palms sweaty and nerves tense.
He's been dumb, but like, really dumb. Of course you know it: how can you not? He swears every morning after, his hangover unbearable, your kindness hurts more than his headache―because there's pain behind your eyes, and he knows you remember more what happened than he did. He feels undeserving of your compassion and all the care you give him, even if you know Eddie's still hung up on Anne.
There is no reason to even doubt it. Please, understand that I am not lying. My heart is true, it beats for you.
How can you still love him? Still root for him? How can you give him your heart knowing a part of his still beats for Anne?
Fantasizing that something might happen, always wishing that I was the one.
He feels torn, because he knows it's you he wants to be with. You're the reason his days have been brighter ever since he lost everything, the reason he smiles whenever his door knocks and why he isn't alone in this sulking anymore. So he hates the fact that he can't heal faster and move on, because that's all that's really stopping him from just being him and you.
Give me something I can feel, I'm too afraid to ask. What is it I need to change, for you to love me back?
He's done mourning but he knows grief doesn't pass in the blink of an eye. But he's sure of it already.
Say that you will really never hurt or leave me. Say it and it will come true. Hold me like you really love me: tell me that you do.
Those three words he's been holding back: afraid of feeling too much in such little time; afraid of thinking he would ever feel his heart beat for anyone else, the confession dripping from his eyes but not past through his sealed mouth.
And I know that I'm not the one on your mind. But still, I will be the one.
The song ends before he's registered, and amid the applauses, you leave the stage, almost running behind the courtain. The band bids goodbye and Eddie finds himself leaving his table and moving onto where the small improvised dressing room is.
He's done pondering. You will be the one.
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You didn't plan to rush backstage like that, but tears started to burn in your eyes and it was getting harder to contain them infront of the crowd.
They loved your show, but you feel empty, even if a little relieved. There was a pressure before and now it's gone, but there's a thing that hasn't gone: the doubt.
You wonder if Eddie understood the words you feel like a coward for not voicing, the feelings that threaten to spill like a hot cauldron, the rage burning your throat when he talks about her, like she's all there is in his mind. Then comes the sadness; you can't help but wonder if he will ever choose you.
Tonight, perhaps, is the day all those what-if's will be answered, and their possible answers won't hunt you anymore.
It's like he read your mind, because there's a knock in your door and it's like you have memorized a bit too much of Eddie: the traces of his face―with wrinkles that mark the gaps in your relationship, the loud way in which he eats, the sounds he makes when he rides his bike, especially those when you wrap your arms around his; even the way his knuckles call for you through the door.
You clear your throat, trying to hide your broken voice. "Come in"
Eddie's face pops up, and all you can offer him is a weak smile. "Did you like the show?"
He tries to measure what he's about to say, because he doesn't know where to start, but the glow in his eyes betrays him, so he excitedly says: "It was great! I didn't know you had that in you, baby"
Even the pet name doesn't make the smile reach your eyes. Oh, he's screwed up for sure.
"Thanks" you mutter, small. You hate feeling like this: the last time you did, you were still in middle school. Your kindness was taken for weakness, and you promised yourself you would never let your heart be taken and used again. Yet here you are, hope planting a seed inside of you that's grown into a rose with thorns that pierce your sweet heart whenever it beats for Eddie. But you can't stop: the roots are too deep in you, and you can't find yourself to kill the flower that's bloomed out of this one-sided love.
"Listen, y/n" oh, he's serious. No petname or nothing. Maybe he's finally opened his eyes and realise this fooling-around-thing you've got going on isn't going nowhere; that your new isn't as exciting as it was before, and his heart will never be yours. You'll never be the one.
"Y-yes?" you can't fake it. Your voice cracks, so you avoid looking at him, "tell me, Eddie".
He shouldn't start with that, seeing the way your face fell and body shakes, even though you're sitting.
"Fuck. Baby, no" he coos, getting closer and dropping on his knees, forcing you to look at him by taking your face softly by the chin, "look at me".
When you meet his eyes and they're already glossy, he feels like he deserves a higher punishment than what any physical one could ever accomplish.
"No, no. Shit, I'm sorry" he tries wiping your tears with his thumb, but you keep on crying more. "Ah, fuck"
"Are you done with me?" you ask on a shaky whisper.
Funny saying that when you weren't even a thing. But you can't help and yearn for it; said what first came onto your mind.
"No!" he corrects, so quick and loud it startles you. "What made you think that?"
"The song-" you start blabbering, "No, I'm sorry Eddie, it's my fault. I shouldn't put on a show that's m-more like a tantrum if we're being honest. We're adults and we can talk, for God's sake! That was so immature of me. Let's just forget this and- I don't even know what to do or what to say, just, spare me from walking out or taking the elevator at the same time I do because it's just gonna be so embarrasing- please, if you're gonna break up with me, do it quick-"
He didn't want to, but he feels the need to interrupt your little rant by now.
"Y/n, stop" you feel even more embarrased now. You start to drift a little and begin considering to move out of the country and change your name. "Who said anything about breaking up?"
Ah, you feel stupid. Stupid, but hey! How can you not come to that conclusion? It's both of yours fault.
"Y-you didn't" you whisper, "but-" you try to reason yet the anger and embarrasment is a bit too much.
"I didn't yet I can understand why you'd feel that way" he sighs, "but let me explain, please"
With a nod, you motion him to continue.
"I'm the only one who should be saying sorry. You did nothing wrong, baby; in fact, your little solution to talk out your feelings surprised me a lot. In a good way! You know I love your voice. But anyways, as I was saying, I'm sorry about everything. It's just... it's not fair to you: you've been nothing but sweet, loving and the best girl I've met ever. I feel like I don't deserve you, and after tonight, if you choose not to stay with me, I'll get it. You're worth of much more than a sad, older and bitter nobody" he ends his sad little man speech, and you can't help it but leave your sit and wrap your arms around him, burying your face on his shoulder as you whisper lovingly on his ear:
"I know, Eddie" you stroke his hair gently, "but I'm not leaving you. Never"
He lets himself sink into your embrace, the perfume and sweat such an intoxicating smell, he's drowning in your scent already.
"Good" his voice turns husky, dropping an octave. The hard on his jeans doesn't go unnoticed, "because I wanted to give my rockstar a reward"
You laugh, and he feels better seeing you smile.
"Seriously, Eddie? How can you go from vulnerable to horny?"
"Both are states of vulnerable!" he defends, "besides, tell me that you don't want it" he motions for you to stand against the dresser, your back against the mirror, goosebumps in your skin when it touches the cool surface.
Eddie grips the flesh of exposed skin your shorts show, leaving a trail of kisses against the bare tights. He pulls them off, and you gasp out a contained moan.
"Someone c-could find us, Eddie"
He growls, his head in between your legs, the panties blocking him from your pulsating cunt. "Let them" he pronounces it so deliciously, you find it hard to resist the panic of being found; Isha will kill you if they found out, but hey, the plan was to get back with Eddie so in the end, it worked, right? Can't get mad at that.
The panties come off with a yank, and you can barely ask if he locked the door before his tongue gives the exposed dripping folds a generous lick. You arch your back at the pleasure that runs through you.
"Mpmh, Eddie" you groan, feeling his slow but steady movements. Your breathe comes out ragged, more when he uses his thumb to caresses the sensible zone with fast circles, making you cum with a cry, yet it muffles inside his mouth that captures your lips in a kiss.
You can taste yourself in his lips, but let him devour your mouth.
"Want more?" Eddie groans against your mouth, his fingers going inside you, softly touching the entrance. You moan against his lips, moving your hips greedily in response.
"Yes" you moan out, making him chuckle.
"Seems I'm not the only horny one here, baby" he mocks, "are you that needy?"
You huff out, annoyed at the accusation.
"Don't worry, you and I both know we love to help each other out" his voice is soft, "besides, it's been a stressful day for us, hasn't it. Let me make you feel better, baby"
His hand travels inside you, his middle and forefinger sliding lazily into you. You tense up, feeling him touch your clit, his fingertips stroking over sensitive tissues. He can see the mirror fogging, and if he didn't have his head in between your legs, he'd probably see his face full of your juices.
"Shit" his voice comes out of his chest, sounding rather gutural and animalistic. "God, how wet you feel, baby"
You mewl. But it's not enough, his fingers falling short: you need to feel all of him. Now.
"Eddie" you beg in need, "please".
"Please what?"
Your hands travel to his pants, undoing his jeans. His large palm stops you before you can reach his underwear.
"Say your words, baby" he taunts, and you hate the way your neediness leaks from in between your tights.
"Just... I need you, Eddie"
He gets rid of the jeans by himself, and you stroke his member covered by the fabric. You get rid of it too, and the next thing is your mouth saying: "I want to ride you"
Even in his haze, he reacts a bit, looking around the room.
"There" you point the chair you were sitting previously on.
He sits down, obeying without a word. You come close, gripping his member firmly in your hand. You pump from the bottom to the top, making him roll his eyes and throw his body back from the pleasure.
His eyes go blank as you sit over his dick, already leaking with pre-cum. Eddie grabs you by the hips, the veins on his arms more notorious, some tattoos popping up like they are 3D.
"You're beautiful" he mutters, and you feel like giving him a reward: so you grab his dick with your hand as his grip gets tighter.
He presses his tip against your fold, side to side, like if he was painting your tight walls with his juices.
He pushes the first centimeter inside, and as soon as you stretch out for him, he starts thrusting, getting a whimper out of you.
"Fuck" he curses, deep inside you. His body shakes, and you feel every single vibration provoked by the friction. You feel dizzy as you go up and down, the rhythm delicious. He keeps moving, his hips doing a circle, all to feel more of you.
"You feel so good, baby" he praises, in ecstasy. You keep moving up and down, covering his long. You bite back a moan, "might end up helping me more than I was going to help you"
He's fucking you silly, and your mind goes blank, so after the thrusts and his confession from before, you dizzy out:
"Everything is for you, Eddie; just for you. You're the only one who can make me feel like this"
"How does it feel?" he asks in a whisper against your ear, his thrusting getting sloppier.
"Feels so good"
"As good as you feel" he moans out, his breathe whistling through his gritted teeth. Your ads bounces against his tights, the sound of skin clapping in the tiny room a very obscene echo. "C'mon, baby. Make me cum"
You tighten with the plea: tights, stomach and ass. Your core is swollen, burning with each new thrust. Eddie keeps you tight as profound as his strong arms can; there'll be a bruise tomorrow.
He pushes all his length inside, keeping you open so he can bury himself deep in you, with strong thrusts against your shaky cunt. His jawline tenses, painfully close to his orgasm.
Your voice comes out muffled, "Harder".
It's funny how no one has even checked the room. No knock, nothing. You suppose they all went out their way when they saw you about to burst in tears, to give you space, a space you're pretty thankful for now.
"You're mine" he rests his forehead against yours, "say it"
His hips shake as you pronounce, "only yours, Eddie"
You can't contain it any longer. There's relief after the intense orgasm that shakes every bone in your body, overestimulation when you feel him cum inside of you, thick shots painting your swollen walls.
You let yourself fall into his arms, the chair creaking with all the weight. Sweat glistens as you try to get your breathe back, your heart beating so fast you fear you'll have a heart attack.
"Tell you a secret?" you hum tiredly against his shoulder, resting your head in it as his long thick fingers comb through your damp hair. You can't believe your plan made it this far, but since you're still in the haze, you can only nod and hum.
He gets closer to you, his hot breathe tickling your ear.
"You're the one, y/n" your heart beats even faster, and you hide your face against his hot skin so he doesn't see the new tears that are forming in your eyes: they're happy tears. "I love you"
Is this is a signal to sing and not voice out your problems? Who knows, maybe next time, if you sing Money Money Money by ABBA, you won't be so broke.
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raeinyourdreams · 7 months ago
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someone apologized for commenting late
 2 months after the fic was posted 😭😭 girl that’s EARLY thats fresh
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raeinyourdreams · 7 months ago
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HUGH JACKMAN as WOLVERINE/LOGAN HOWLETT
X-Men (2000) dir. Bryan Singer X2 (2003) dir. Bryan Singer X-Men: The Last Stand (2006) dir. Brett Ratner X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009) dir. Gavin Hood The Wolverine (2013) dir. James Mangold X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) dir. Bryan Singer X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) dir. Bryan Singer Logan (2017) dir. James Mangold Deadpool & Wolverine (2024) dir. Shawn Levy
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raeinyourdreams · 7 months ago
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forehead kisses during sex are the supreme kiss for me. especially when you're cumming and he gives you a long one without pulling his lips away from your forehead, not until you've come down from your high at least, like you're doing so well and he's so proud of you for cumming on his cock
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raeinyourdreams · 7 months ago
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↳Logan Howlett in X-Men(2000)
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raeinyourdreams · 7 months ago
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"How do you write such realistic dialogue-" I TALK TO MYSELF. I TALK TO MYSELF AND I PRETEND I AM THE ONE SAYING THE LINE. LIKE SANITY IS SLOWLY SLIPPING FROM BETWEEN MY FINGERS WITH EVERY MEASLY WORD THEY TYPE OUT. THAT IS HOW.
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