#Tree of Thoughts Prompting
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Advanced AI Prompt Engineering
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#Advanced Prompt Engineering#AI Content Creation#AI for Entrepreneurs#AI for Marketers#AI for Writers#AI Handbook#AI Prompting#AI Research#AI Tools#AI Writing#Chain of Thought Prompting#Creative AI#Future of AI#GPT-4 Prompting#Program Aided Prompting#Prompt Engineering Handbook#Retrieval Augmented Generation#Self-Consistency Prompting#Smarter AI Prompts#Tree of Thoughts Prompting
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Oh to move to the countryside, away from everything.
#little things#deep thoughts#my thougts#original poem#spilled ink#prose poetry#dark academia#poets on tumblr#poem#nature#little forest#trees#poetry#love#desi tag#desiblr#desi tumblr#life quote#life#literature#life quotes#lifestyle#writing prompt#writing#writers and poets#writerscommunity#writers on tumblr#writeblr#desi aesthetic#korean drama
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the symbol of peace just saw my panties?!
warnings: one creep, reader wears panties but is otherwise gn, not really edited very well probably
you’re standing in your underwear and a big T-shirt outside you’re apartment building in the middle of December with every single other person that lives in the building.
you were rudely awakened by the fire alarm going off in the building loudly, and after jumping five feet in the air and realizing that no, you didn’t dream it, you jump up to start pulling on pants. soon after however, you heard the night clerk pounding on doors telling everyone to evacuate quickly because there was a fire on the fifth floor. you got tangled in the left leg, and were hopping around before the clerk got to your door. his urgency spurred you on out the door, barely having the mind to put your slippers on as you fled. so here you are, pantless, shifting from leg to leg in what you used to deem your pajamas.
your arms are crossed tightly across your chest, trying to keep what little modesty you had left. it seems you weren’t doing that great of a job as the creepy guy from 4B was leering at you openly.
you were just about to yell at him-what were you going to say? probably a slur of curse words and how you could kick his ass even in your panties- when a thick blanket was suddenly draped around you and large, scarred hands where on your shoulders.
turning around quickly, you were shocked to see the symbol of peace smiling down at you gently. deku was clad in his hero suit, and was big. like, really big. you had only ever seen him on tv, so you never realized just how big he actually was. you don’t know how the boy you watched on television during his first sports festival became this hunk of a man. he also smelled really good. kind of woodsy, and all cozy home baked cookies in a cute tin.
as you were gawking at him, mouth hanging open a little, deku shifted a little to block you from the 4B creep’s line of sight. he pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, and gave you another smile as he patted your shoulders gently.
“are you alright?”
his voice was smooth, and soft. not too deep but not high pitched either. you think to yourself that anyone would be calmed whenever he was talking to them. you always had thought he had a nice voice whenever you heard him in the television, but in person it was even smoother and softer. blinking out of your stupor, you nod quickly, before gasping in horror. the rising hero deku, who on the fast track at becoming number one, has seen you in your panties.
deku smiles at you again (that famous blinding smile that before tonight you had never seen in person) before stating “don’t be embarrassed! this isn’t the first time I’ve seen someone in their underwear.”
you can only blink at him in surprise, and it dawns on him what his statement implies as he looks at your expression.
“no- wait not like that, well I mean-“
he stops his stumbling whenever you have to muffle your laughter. his grin turns shy, and he brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck.
“um, anyway. the fire was just a toaster, everything is fine. you should be able to go back inside soon.”
your relief is palpable, and deku gives you one last grin before waving at you and walking away. you watch as he approaches 4B creep, the guy’s eyes widening drastically at whatever look deku gives him, and swings his arm around 4B’s shoulders and starts waking towards the edge of the crowd. deku turns to look at you one last time over his shoulder, giving you a wink.
#I KNOW deku would smell amazing and all things comforting#imagine: you’re in a villain attack and you’re suddenly picked up in strong arms and are surrounded by the smell of freshly baked cookies#and a hint of evergreen trees#I wrote this years ago whenever I was on wattpad writing for bts jehsksksj#I suddenly thought of that prompt again the other day and knew deku would be an amazing fit#mat’s writing#deku x y/n#deku x reader#deku#mha deku#bnha deku#deku fanfic#deku fanfiction#izuku midoryia x you#izuku fanfiction#izuku fanfic#izuku midoria#izuku x reader#izuku midoriya#my hero academia#my hero academy fanfiction#my hero imagines#my hero academia headcanons#my hero acedamia#my hero academia fanfiction#my hero academia fluff#deku fluff
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excerpt from an unfinished poem (2024)
#quotes#writing#literature#writers on tumblr#writers and poets#artists on tumblr#aesthetic#poem#poetry#poems on tumblr#thoughts#prompts#writing prompts#light academia#dark academia#writeblr#writing community#creative writing#my writing#poetry collection#personal#original writing#original poem#tree#losing#losing my mind
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Sure, @momofshade! Sorry this took so long.
text under the cut
Poem About Plants
clogyrnach poem
I will climb high up in the trees where my body sways with the breeze where I bring my mind to points left behind and I find I’m at ease.
#poem#writing#creative writing#poetry#original poem#poems on tumblr#poetryblr#words words words#poems and poetry#writers and poets#poetic#writing prompt#writers on tumblr#writeblr#writerscommunity#spilled words#words#plants#forest#trees#woods#trees and forests#writers#writer#spilled thoughts#spilled ink
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A siren who hates the sea because it's so wild and unforgiving with so many terrifying animals and discoveries that her people haven't even seen.
A pirate that loves the ocean despite its chaos and unfortunate findings.
A bird that desires to dive deep into the waters and see what it offers them, even if it kills them because it's the only place on this earth they can't go
Humanity who has seen all three, even space beyond that, but still doesn't understand anything or the meaning of it all.
The wind that wants to explore the land and its dirt, mountain and grass. The closest it can get is touching the trees.
A horse who has run miles and miles and yet has only seen a small part of the world. A horse that finds happiness in the trail it has run on for so long.
A tree whose closest embrace to a different element is the wind and rain. A tree who wants to know what is beyond this one spot it's in, but its only hope is to plant seeds just a little further away and hope its offspring one day reaches the shores.
A fire that burns bright and beautiful and sees only one piece of sky, feels only one piece of land and doesn't even know water exists. A fire that burns for a little while but then has no other place to go because it's sucked everything dry already.
#creative writing#writing ideas#writing prompts#writing prompt#creative writing#female writers#writing story#writing#short story#story#original story#storytelling#story prompt#elements#Rain#Water#Air#Trees#nature#fire#shower thoughts#short poetry#poetry#poem#original poem#poets on tumblr#writers and poets#poetic#love poem#marsposts
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-->So -- after having some of their Winterfest spirit literally go up in smoke, it's no wonder that the trio wanted to go chill out -- somewhat literally. Victor retreated into his greenhouse to do the daily harvest, while Smiler made sure the chickens were well-fed and Alice did a little snow-shoveling to build up the old muscles. I'd just had them drop and make a couple of snow angels to try and recapture the fun they'd been having before the tree fire --
-->When who should I spot inside but one Clement Frost, adding presents to the present pile! I sent Smiler to go say hi to him and tell him about their weirdass day (though they ended up having to chase him to the foot of the front porch stairs, as for some reason he decided to hang out there molding some clay) while Alice joined Victor in the greenhouse, chatting with a gnome while Victor finished off his harvest. And then getting a lovely mistletoe kiss from him, as we can't do one couple and not the other! :) No matter what else happened today, at least everyone in the trio got their seasonally-appropriate smooches!
-->And then it was time to start asking Clement Frost for gifts! ...a process that took far longer than it should have, because the FIRST time Alice and Victor asked for their gifts, while the tradition completed, the interaction did not. I'm not ENTIRELY sure what broke it, but I think it had something to do with Alice and Victor standing at the TOP of the stairs to the porch when they asked, with Clement standing at the BOTTOM of the stairs and refusing to move at all. All I know is that Smiler, standing next to them, got theirs right away, while it took me trying to get everyone to go to the present pile to prompt Alice and Victor to receive theirs -- which only happened when Clement actually got up on the porch. *shakehead* This game, sometimes...but everyone DID get a gift from Clement in the end! And what did they receive?
...Smiler got ANOTHER big-ass karaoke machine; Alice got the giant microscope; and Victor got a fancy fridge that was not as good as the one they currently own. *facepalm* Clement, Smiler only needs ONE karaoke machine, Alice has no room for a giant microscope, and we already have all the fridges we could ever need, both at the store and the house. I guess we can safely say that Clement does NOT check HIS list twice! At least, not when it comes to figuring out what people already have or not.
-->Okay, well, that didn't go great -- surely the trio would get better presents from the present pile? I had them all gather around said pile (which took a couple of tries, as poor Victor was exhausted and Alice kept trying to wander off to play with clay) and open some presents. Smiler got a bowl of fruit (another thing we already have in the kitchen); Alice received some alcineat (either a new metal or mineral, I'm not sure -- at least it's not something she had before!); and Victor --
Uh. No clue. He had a disappointed face after opening the present, and no pop-up ever came up for him that I could see. As far as I could tell, the poor guy got an empty box. :( This Winterfest had gone pretty much completely from "awesome" to "awful."
-->However, I was determined to go out on SOMETHING of a high note, so Smiler and Victor got some heartfelt smooches and Alice and Victor some loving cuddles before the holiday was through. Because I WAS going to get my Valicer cuteness, damn it. Victor and Alice then slumped off to bed as Clement Frost took his leave, and I left it with Smiler transferring the Sim Scuffle LP they'd recorded earlier off the drone and into their media production station so it could be edited. Because when in doubt, work on SimsTube. :p
And that's it! Join me next time when, despite MULTIPLE blizzards and other sundry problems, WE FINALLY OPEN THE FUCKING GROCERY STORE. See you then!
#sims 4#the lazy save#victor van dort#alice liddell#smiler always#yeah this Winterfest started with a bang and ended with a whimper#after the tree caught on fire I just couldn't capture the same magic#especially with all those glitchy attempts to get presents!#ah well I tried my best#and it's not like we can't just sell the stuff Clement gave the trio#it just annoys me that Smiler ALWAYS gets a karaoke machine from him now#like yes well done you remember that they like karaoke#how about some variety in the gift giving now?#and what the hell prompted him to give Alice a MICROSCOPE??#I thought she'd gotten a print at first when I saw the name of the present#but nope it was a full-ass microscope#like it makes nice prints but I have no room for it!#now if Clement had given them an OBSERVATORY#that I could have worked with I think#but yes the weather gets worse next episode#but we DO finally open the store#aren't you proud of me :P#queued
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"Your training is complete, there's nothing left for me to teach you."
"Wait- wait wait, hold on. What do you mean??"
"I have nothing left to teach you, you have learned already," he walks away with his back facing you.
"No way I just wasted my life punching trees. I am still the same person I was."
"You were meant to learn patience, child."
Oh. You realized your mistake. No wonder you didn't see any of your friends. You had thought they had just ditched you. Who would've thought you signed up under the wrong grandmaster. The grandmaster who focuses on patience. You deserve a slap in the face for that one.
The grandmaster says he’ll only make you his disciple if you can fell a large tree with a single punch. You spend the next several years training and honing your skills. When you finally knock down the tree, he simply says, “Your training is complete, there’s nothing left for me to teach you”.
#minksyn#writers#writers on tumblr#writing prompts#writeblr#writing inspiration#lol buddy thought it was minecraft with all the tree punching
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Love your stories♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ Could I request the female reader falling asleep on their boyfriends lap with the dorm leaders and vice dorm leaders + Floyd? Thank you.
In the Comfort of You
( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff - she/her .
- [𝐜𝐡.] dorm leaders . vice dorm leaders + floyd
- [𝐩:𝐬] none
Note: Aww, this prompt is actually so cute are you kidding! I came back from my dance comp early so I celebrated by writing again! (*¯︶¯*)
Riddle Rosehearts
It was a quiet afternoon in Heartslabyul, the garden unusually still after a morning of chaos. The usual string of rules, order, and unexpected mushroom inspections had tired out even the strictest members. The sun filtered through the rose bushes, scattering golden flecks across the picnic blanket laid out under the gazebo. The breeze rustled the leaves above, and the faint smell of strawberry tarts lingered in the air.
Riddle sat upright, posture perfect, a book open in his lap. He was mid-sentence when he felt a shift beside him.
You, his girlfriend, had been curled up at his side for a while, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. But now, slowly, without a word, you repositioned yourself and laid your head fully in his lap.
He stiffened.
Rules. There were rules about propriety. About maintaining posture. About not being flustered in public—even if it was just you two in the garden. His brain fired through a checklist of what he should do. He should tell you to sit up. He should maintain boundaries.
But then he looked down.
Your face was peaceful, softened by sleep. A slight smile played on your lips, your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. One hand loosely held the hem of his jacket, as if even in sleep, you wanted to be close to him. You trusted him enough to rest like this. On him.
His heart stuttered.
Slowly, he placed the book aside and stared down at you, watching the way your lashes fluttered when the breeze tickled your cheeks. His hand hovered in the air for a long time—unsure—before he finally brushed your hair away from your forehead, his fingers trembling slightly.
He had always been taught discipline, order, and responsibility. But with you? He felt human. Vulnerable. Safe.
His fingers lingered in your hair, stroking it gently.
“…I suppose... one nap isn’t against the rules,” he murmured to himself.
He leaned back slightly, his other hand resting lightly across your back to make sure you didn’t roll off his lap. He felt warmth in his chest, unfamiliar and wonderful, like a sun blooming behind clouds. For once, Riddle Rosehearts didn't care about rules or appearances. Not when you looked so peaceful. Not when your presence filled his every thought.
And when you murmured his name softly in your sleep, like a prayer wrapped in trust?
He knew he'd never let anyone disturb this moment.
Not even the Queen of Hearts herself.
Trey Clover
The sun was setting over the Heartslabyul courtyard, painting the sky in sherbet hues. After a long day of baking sweets for the next unbirthday party, the scent of sugar and vanilla still clung to the air.
Trey had insisted on taking a break—dragging you out into the garden with a blanket and leftover tarts. You’d tried to protest, insisting you had homework, but he just smiled with that warm, steady patience of his and said, “You’ve earned a rest.”
You sat beside him, legs stretched out, chewing lazily on a berry tart as he leaned against a tree trunk. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and his glasses had slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose as he read aloud from a half-open cookbook. You didn’t understand why he found recipe books so relaxing, but his voice was calm, familiar, grounding.
Eventually, the warmth of the setting sun and the soft cadence of his words started to lull you into a haze. Without thinking, you scooted closer and laid your head in his lap.
Trey’s voice trailed off.
He looked down at you, blinking once, then again. The way you curled into him, unguarded, so effortlessly vulnerable—it made his chest ache in the sweetest way. He smiled, one hand coming up to adjust his glasses, the other instinctively brushing along your arm.
“You okay down there?” he asked softly.
No response.
Your breathing was slow and even, lips slightly parted as you drifted deeper into sleep. Your hand rested on his thigh, fingers barely curled like you were holding onto the moment.
He chuckled under his breath. “Guess that’s a yes.”
With infinite gentleness, Trey shifted the tart plate out of the way and used his free hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. He watched the way the sunlight danced on your skin, how your eyelashes cast little shadows across your cheeks.
He didn’t move for a long while. Didn’t read. Didn’t speak. He just sat there, a steady presence while you slept on his lap. His thumb brushed lazy, affectionate circles on your shoulder.
“I hope you know,” he said eventually, voice soft and low like a whisper in a dream, “I could sit like this forever.”
His heart beat slow and full. This wasn’t the chaos of the kitchen, or the madness of Heartslabyul. This was something simpler. Sweeter. Like a quiet lull after the storm.
He leaned down slightly, pressing a feather-light kiss to your temple.
“Sweet dreams, sugar.”
Leona Kingscholar
It was one of those scorching afternoons in the Savannaclaw lounge. The heat had chased most students into the shadows, and the usual clamor had died down to a low hum. Leona had claimed his favorite sun-drenched couch—stretched out with one arm behind his head, the other lazily flipping through a textbook he had no real intention of reading.
You were sitting next to him, legs curled under you, chatting idly for a bit before trailing off. He barely registered the silence at first—figured you were just zoning out. But then something shifted.
You moved closer.
His ears twitched.
Without a word, you leaned over and placed your head directly on his lap. Just—boop. Laid down. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Leona froze.
He looked down slowly, like he couldn’t believe what just happened. There you were, his girl, sleeping soundly across his lap. Lips parted slightly, cheek pressed against his thigh, hands tucked under your chin. Peaceful. Completely knocked out.
For a moment, Leona just stared.
And then—
“…Tch.” He clicked his tongue, but it lacked any real bite. “You’ve got some nerve.”
His hand hovered over you for a beat. He wanted to push you off, maybe grumble something about how he was supposed to be the lazy one, not you. But instead…
His fingers dipped into your hair.
It was light. Barely a touch. Just a lazy comb through your strands, again and again.
“Brat,” he murmured, but his voice was soft, like the desert wind at night. “You really just gonna sleep here without asking? On my lap?”
And yet he didn’t move.
Didn’t complain.
Didn’t breathe too loudly for fear of waking you.
His tail swished lazily across the floor, betraying the contentment he pretended he didn’t feel. The warmth of your body against him made his eyelids droop, but he stayed awake, keeping a silent vigil.
He wouldn’t admit it, not in a thousand years—but having you there, choosing him as your safe place to rest?
That meant more than all the crowns in the world.
He smirked, resting his head back.
“…Guess I’ll let you off this time.”
Ruggie Bucchi
Ruggie wasn’t used to having time off. Between errands for Leona, club stuff, side hustles, and dodging various school responsibilities, “relaxation” wasn’t exactly on his schedule. But today? For some miraculous reason? He had an open hour. So he dragged you out behind the Savannaclaw dorm where the sun was warm, the grass was soft, and there were no chores to do.
He was halfway through telling you about some weird thing he saw in the cafeteria (“Swear on my granny’s life, the mashed potatoes moved!”) when he realized you weren’t laughing anymore.
He turned his head to look—and there you were.
Head in his lap. Curled up like a cat in a sunbeam. Eyes closed. Asleep.
Ruggie blinked.
Once. Twice.
“…Huh?”
He looked around like this was some kind of prank. “Oi. Y/N?”
No response.
A soft snore.
Ruggie stared down at you, your face squished slightly against his thigh, your fingers loosely gripping his hoodie. He didn’t know what to do with his hands at first. He held them up in the air like you were fragile and he might break you by accident.
He whispered, “…You serious right now?”
His face was bright red. Full-on red as a beet. But his heart? Beating like crazy. Fast and full and warm in a way that made his chest ache.
He glanced down again.
And slowly, hesitantly, the corner of his mouth tugged into a grin.
“Heh… cute.”
Very carefully, he pulled his hoodie sleeve down and tucked it under your head like a makeshift pillow. Then he leaned back on his hands and looked up at the sky, his tail flicking lazily behind him.
“You better not start drooling on me,” he muttered—but there was no venom in it. Just affection.
He sat there quietly, keeping still even when his legs started to fall asleep. When you shifted a little and sighed in your sleep, he actually stopped breathing for a second.
Because no one ever really… relaxed around him like that. Not like this. Not since he was a kid in the slums of the Sunset Savanna. This—being someone’s safe place—was something new. Something precious.
And he’d fight anyone who tried to ruin it.
Even if he’d totally deny that later.
Azul Ashengrotto
The Lounge had closed for the night. The clink of glassware had faded, the last customer long gone, and the velvet curtains drawn tight. Everything was bathed in that dim oceanic glow Octavinelle was known for—deep blues and the shimmer of water against stone.
Azul had finally finished sorting through contracts, sighing in satisfaction as he slid the last document into its folder. You were already sitting on the plush couch in the VIP room, legs tucked to the side, watching him with a soft smile on your lips.
“Hard at work, as always,” you teased lightly.
Azul chuckled, brushing his bangs back. “You know how it is. A businessman’s time is never his own.”
“You’ve got time for me now though, right?”
He hesitated only for a moment. “Always.”
You patted the space next to you. He sat, slightly stiff as always—ever the perfect posture. But he relaxed once you leaned against his shoulder. You chatted for a bit, your voice slowly trailing off as the atmosphere quieted. Your head slipped downward, resting lightly against his arm at first… then lower… until suddenly, Azul felt a shift.
He looked down to find your head in his lap.
Asleep.
Breathing gently.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Azul froze. Completely. His hands hovered mid-air, his back went ramrod straight, and panic flickered in his mind like a school of darting fish.
What do I do? Is this allowed? Is she okay? What if she drools? What if Jade sees—oh seven seas—
He dared to look down at your face. Your eyelashes fluttered faintly. Your lips were parted slightly, your expression peaceful. Unburdened. Completely unafraid.
The kind of peace Azul never had in his own head.
He felt his throat tighten.
You trusted him—him, a calculating, manipulative, secret-wielding businessman enough to fall asleep on his lap.
“…You really are bold,” he whispered, voice breaking into a whisper. “But… I suppose I can’t blame you.”
Cautiously, as if worried he’d shatter the moment, Azul rested a hand against your shoulder and the other—so slowly—began to stroke your hair. The strands slipped through his fingers like sea silk. He watched you for what felt like hours, every so often brushing a strand out of your face or tracing the curve of your cheek with his thumb.
And for once… the silence wasn’t unnerving.
It was comforting.
“Maybe just a little longer,” he murmured.
When Jade poked his head in later to report something, his eyes landed on the scene. He raised a brow—but said nothing.
Azul simply met his gaze, a faint smile playing on his lips. For once, he didn’t care about appearances.
Not when you were in his arms.
Jade Leech
The rainforest in the botanical garden was dim, warm, and filled with the sounds of dripping water and the flutter of hidden wings. Jade loved bringing you here after long days—the two of you wandering between the glowing mushrooms and thick vines, talking about strange creatures and even stranger students.
That evening, you had been unusually quiet.
Tired.
He’d noticed. Of course he had. Jade noticed everything.
So, he suggested you rest.
You both sat on a stone bench nestled under an arch of glowing moss. The lights cast a soft green hue over the clearing. Jade had started telling you a story—some obscure tale about a deep-sea creature with a song that lured people into dreams.
And maybe it was his voice—smooth as silk, low and lulling—or maybe it was the way he ran his fingers lazily through the fern beside you, but soon…
Your head slipped gently into his lap.
And you didn’t move again.
Jade blinked once, tilting his head ever so slightly.
“…Oh my.”
Your face was tilted toward him, cheek resting on the fabric of his uniform pants. Your breathing was deep, peaceful. Your body, curled like a cat, radiated warmth into his legs. You made not even the faintest sound.
And Jade?
Jade was frozen—but not out of panic.
He was fascinated.
You trusted him enough to sleep here. On him. Fully vulnerable. Open. And you didn’t even seem to hesitate.
The corners of his lips curled upward into a smile—genuine and serene.
“Well,” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush your hair behind your ear, “you are more interesting than any mushroom I’ve ever encountered.”
He chuckled quietly, the sound blending into the soft symphony of the garden.
Jade’s hand lingered in your hair, slow and thoughtful. He studied the way you clutched the fabric of his jacket with one hand, like you were anchoring yourself to him. And slowly, his usually composed heart began to thrum, unfamiliar and full.
No one ever rested near him this way.
No one dared.
But you did.
“You’ve caught me off guard,” he whispered, almost reverently.
Not a trace of mischief in his tone—only awe.
He leaned down slightly, brushing a kiss to your temple with an elegant tenderness only someone like him could manage.
“I wonder what you’re dreaming of,” he said softly, his voice a promise. “Whatever it is… I hope I’m there.”
And he stayed perfectly still, watching over you like a sentinel in the jungle. Not because he had to—but because he wanted to.
Because you, in that moment, were the most precious thing in his world.
Floyd Leech
The tide was low in his mood today.
Everything felt boring. Club meetings dragged, the Lounge was quiet, and even scaring first-years didn’t give him the usual rush. He was sprawled out on one of the long couches in the Octavinelle dorm lounge, legs dangling off the side, one arm draped over his eyes.
You were with him, of course—his “Shrimpy.” His favorite toy. His favorite person.
Today, though, he wasn’t teasing you or playfully squeezing you until you squirmed. He was unusually quiet, lying still in a rare moment of calm. You sat beside him, chatting softly at first, your fingers absently tracing patterns into his arm.
But then… your voice faded.
Your hand stilled.
He peeked out from under his arm just in time to feel it—your weight shifting as you gently curled up beside him, resting your head right on his stomach. A warm, sleepy sigh left your lips.
And then nothing.
You were asleep.
At first, Floyd just blinked, his mismatched eyes wide with surprise. “Huh?”
He tilted his head forward, peering at you like a curious sea creature watching a pearl roll into its den.
“You really knocked out, huh?”
No answer. Just the sound of your soft breathing, face nestled into his hoodie, arms curled in like you were hugging a plush toy.
Floyd didn’t move.
Didn’t make a sound.
Instead… his grin slowly, slowly spread across his face.
“Eheh~ Shrimpy... you really are something else.”
He gently lifted his hand and let it fall over your back, his fingers splaying like seaweed, curling into the fabric of your shirt. He didn’t squeeze this time. No chaotic thrashing, no threats of “squeeeezin’ ya ‘til ya pop.” Just the weight of his hand, steady and warm, like he was grounding himself in you.
His tailing mood melted like drift ice under sun.
You chose him.
To rest on. To trust. To fall asleep on, even knowing how temperamental he could be.
That tugged at something deep. Something primal and tender. He could feel his heartbeat slow to match yours, lulled by the rhythm of your breath.
“You’re lucky I like you so much,” he murmured, voice unusually low and gentle. “If it were anybody else, I’d have chomped ‘em by now for touchin’ me like this.”
But he didn’t move. Not an inch.
He just laid there, arm wrapped around you, letting you use his body like a pillow made of seafoam and muscle.
And when you murmured his name in your sleep—barely audible, just a breath?
Floyd melted entirely.
His grin softened, his head tilted back.
“…Guess I’ll nap too, then. But if I drool on ya, it’s your fault~”
Kalim Al-asim
The palace-like halls of Scarabia were quiet in the golden haze of late afternoon. The sun poured through the arching windows, lighting the silken pillows in warm amber. It had been a long day—flying carpets, music practice, and Kalim pulling you into at least three spontaneous dance circles.
Now, you were both on the balcony, surrounded by flower pots and colorful lanterns swaying in the breeze. Kalim had been talking excitedly about a festival his family hosted once—a night where they lit a thousand paper lanterns and let them float into the sky.
You were curled beside him, resting against his side, nodding along as his hands animated every story.
But eventually… your replies stopped.
He glanced down mid-sentence to find you still. Eyes closed. Breathing soft.
Your head had somehow found its way into his lap, resting there like it belonged. Your hands tucked under your cheek, your face tilted up toward him like you were dreaming of the stars he’d just described.
Kalim’s eyes widened.
“Oh!”
He clapped a hand over his mouth immediately, realizing how loud he was about to be.
“She fell asleep,” he whispered to himself, awed.
He looked down at you like you were made of starlight and gold.
You trusted him. You felt safe with him. So safe, in fact, that you’d fallen asleep in his lap under the open sky.
His heart soared.
“Wow…” he breathed.
He reached out, ever so gently, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead, his fingers trembling just slightly. Not from nerves—Kalim was never shy—but from the sheer overwhelming joy of the moment.
He wanted to laugh, to cheer, to kiss your forehead a hundred times.
But he didn’t.
He sat still, barely breathing, his smile wide and wonder-filled.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, his voice full of love. “Like a dream.”
He looked up at the sky, watching the clouds drift by, and then down again at you. His fingers found yours, lacing them together gently.
Kalim’s world was fast, bright, full of noise and song. But this?
This was a quiet kind of joy.
One that filled his chest like sweet air and didn’t need to be shouted.
He leaned down, kissed the crown of your head, and rested his cheek gently against your hair.
“If I had a thousand stars,” he whispered, “I’d give them all to you.”
And there, under the setting sun, with the breeze carrying hints of jasmine and warmth, Kalim stayed absolutely still—just a boy in love, holding his world in his lap.
Jamil Viper
It was late—well past the quiet hours in Scarabia. The sun had long since dipped behind the dunes, and the dorm was bathed in a soft, warm glow from hanging lanterns. The courtyard had emptied after a long day of activities, and only the hush of wind through palm trees and the distant trickle of water from the fountain remained.
Jamil sat beneath the archway overlooking the open courtyard, dressed down in his lounge clothes—simple, dark, loose-fitting, no frills. His shoulders were slouched, rare for someone always so tightly wound. You were beside him, curled up with your legs tucked under you, slowly leaning more and more his way.
The conversation had started casually—stories about Kalim’s antics, about classes, about the endless list of responsibilities Jamil was juggling. But as you listened, your replies grew quieter, slower…
And before he could even finish a sentence, he felt it.
Your head, gentle and warm, settled right into his lap.
Jamil went completely still.
He looked down, blinking, utterly silent.
“…You fell asleep?”
He could hardly believe it. There you were—his girlfriend—just… sleeping on him like it was natural. No hesitation. No fear. Just soft breath against his stomach and one hand lightly curled in his hoodie.
And him?
He didn’t move a muscle.
Jamil wasn’t used to this kind of closeness without strings. He wasn’t used to someone resting on him, not needing anything, not demanding he do something, fix something, prove something.
You were just there.
Sleeping.
Trusting him.
He swallowed hard, his heartbeat loud in his ears. One of his hands hovered above your shoulder, hesitant, as if afraid touching you would wake you—or worse, make the moment disappear.
But then, with a quiet exhale, he let his hand fall gently into your hair.
Fingers threaded through the strands slowly. Carefully. Like you were made of delicate silk.
“Y/N…” he whispered, barely audible.
There was a softness in his eyes no one else ever got to see. He didn’t know if you could hear him in your sleep—but it didn’t matter.
“You really don’t know what you do to me.”
He leaned back against the pillar, staring up at the night sky, the stars peeking through the edges of the courtyard ceiling. For once, he allowed himself a moment of stillness. No planning. No scheming. No worrying about Kalim or school or a hundred responsibilities.
Just you.
Warm and trusting in his arms.
And Jamil—quiet, calm—stayed perfectly still, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he brushed his thumb over your temple.
“If this is a dream,” he whispered, “I don’t want to wake up.”
Vil Schoenheit
The dressing room was quiet.
For once.
The glow of vanity lights lined the mirror, casting golden halos over the room. Bottles, brushes, powders, everything meticulously organized in Vil’s space. You had been keeping him company after his rehearsal—watching him take off his stage makeup with gentle, practiced motions, each movement like part of a performance in itself.
You sat beside him on the plush velvet chaise, your posture proper at first, engaged in conversation. He was mid-rant about a classmate’s awful skincare routine (heaven help them), and you had smiled, eyes soft, head tilted just slightly.
And then…
You slumped sideways.
Right into his lap.
Vil’s breath hitched, and he looked down, mouth parted slightly in surprise.
You… fell asleep?
On him?
“Darling?” he said quietly, brushing his fingers against your shoulder. No response.
Your face was tilted toward him, cheek gently pressed against his thigh, lashes brushing the top of your cheek, lips parted just slightly. You looked so peaceful. So still.
So unaware of how tightly you’d gripped his heart in that moment.
Vil slowly exhaled, lowering his hand to rest on your back. His other hand—still elegant, still carrying the last remnants of lotion—hovered over your hair. And then, with featherlight grace, he began to smooth it back, careful not to disturb your rest.
“Sleeping on a chaise,” he murmured. “That’s hardly ideal posture.”
But his voice had no edge. No scolding. Just… gentle amusement.
Vil Schoenheit was used to control—his appearance, his schedule, his image. And yet, here you were, disrupting all of that with a single act of vulnerability. Trusting him with your body in its most unguarded state.
And it didn’t irritate him.
It moved him.
“This is… dangerous,” he whispered. “You lower my guard far too easily.”
He gazed at you for a long while, memorizing the curve of your face in the soft light. The way your hand rested atop his knee like it belonged there. The softness of your lips, the warmth of your breath.
Vil had been photographed a thousand times, posed beside the most beautiful people in the world.
But this?
This was the most beautiful moment he had ever been part of.
He gently tugged a silk throw blanket from the back of the chaise and draped it over your shoulders, careful not to shift your head. Then, leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your temple—soft, reverent, full of unspoken feeling.
“You’ll be the ruin of me, schatz,” he whispered. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Rook Hunt
The sun had long since begun its descent, draping the vast grounds of NRC in a golden veil. The lush gardens behind Pomefiore dorm basked in that soft honey light, petals curling gently like sleepy sighs, and even the breeze seemed to hush itself to a lullaby. Rook Hunt sat on a stone bench nestled beneath an arch of ivy and lavender, legs crossed with poetic elegance, one arm draped along the bench’s edge, the other cradling a small leather-bound book of Baudelaire’s poetry.
But he had not turned a page in fifteen minutes.
His gaze, normally so sharp and brimming with curiosity, had softened completely—locked onto you, his beloved, curled up in the safest of sanctuaries: his lap.
You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, of course. It had started with just leaning against him, the sun warming your back and his hand absentmindedly carding through your hair, twirling strands like golden thread between his fingers. His voice had been low, reciting French verses with a soft lilt, letting the words flutter into the air like butterflies. Somewhere between the cadence of his voice, the scent of lilacs, and the rise and fall of his breathing, sleep had stolen you away.
And Rook… was absolutely enchanted.
“Oh, mon ange…” he whispered, barely audible, his breath brushing against the crown of your head.
He didn’t dare move. His usually ever-restless energy was still for once—his stillness more reverent than any silence in the cathedral. Your cheek was resting just over his thigh, your arms folded like a child’s under your head. A soft sigh escaped your lips every now and then, the kind that melted straight into his chest.
It was an intimacy far beyond a stolen kiss or dramatic serenade. This was something quiet. Sacred.
Rook’s gloved fingers ghosted along your shoulder, his thumb brushing ever so lightly against the skin where your shirt had slipped a bit. He chuckled—quietly, tenderly.
“To inspire such trust… Such vulnerability…” He murmured in awe, gazing down at you like one might look at a painting in a gallery, overwhelmed by its beauty but unable to explain why. “Tu es ma muse éternelle.”
The soft flush on your cheeks, the way your lashes kissed your skin, the rhythm of your breath—all of it wove a spell around his heart. A predator by nature, he was always seeking, always hunting the next beautiful moment. But this? This stillness, this peace—this was the rarest prey of all.
Rook leaned back, head tilted toward the twilight sky.
He would sit here forever if it meant you could rest undisturbed. The hunt could wait.
Idia Shroud
The atmosphere in Idia’s room buzzed with low ambient synth music, neon lights tracing cyber-punk lines across the walls, bouncing off rows of figurines and glowing monitors. Ortho had exited the room a while ago, leaving behind a half-empty can of soda and a quiet “I’ll give you two some space, nii-san~” in a sing-song voice that had Idia practically overheating.
You were on the floor, curled in a sea of fuzzy blankets and oversized gaming pillows. Idia had set up your “chill zone,” as he nervously called it—stocked with snacks, manga, and an absurdly cute cat-shaped pillow that he had definitely not bought because it reminded him of the way you smiled.
You had climbed up into his gaming chair at some point, practically draping yourself across his lap, completely fearless. Idia had gone full system error—stiff as a board, hands twitching at his sides, a thousand inner alarms going off.
“Wha—Y-You can’t just—th-th-there’s a process! A sequence! L-like, at least two awkward movie nights before you just go full-on lap-mode!!”
But you hadn’t answered. Your breathing had slowed. Your body had gone warm and heavy.
You’d fallen asleep.
Idia’s heart skipped several beats. He actually had to check that he wasn’t hallucinating. A tiny puff of air escaped your lips, your cheek squished against his hoodie-clad thigh, and your hand, like it had a mind of its own, had curled around the hem of his sleeve.
He froze. Again.
Then slowly, as if afraid to wake a very fluffy, very delicate sleeping beast, he let himself breathe. Just a little.
His hand trembled as it hovered near your head. His fingers twitched like they were afraid to mess it up—you—the whole fragile image of this moment.
And then, very carefully, he let his hand settle into your hair.
“…This is… r-real, right?” he whispered, voice cracking mid-sentence. He bit down on a whimper, overwhelmed.
“She’s literally asleep. On me. Like, I’m not even an NPC in this cutscene. I’m the main questline now.”
A faint giggle threatened to bubble up, but he slapped a hand over his mouth.
Then the other part of his brain chimed in.
What if she wakes up and realizes it’s weird? What if she was just tired and it wasn’t a conscious choice? What if she thinks you’re a total loser for sitting there like a statue?
He shut his eyes tight.
No. No, for once, he wouldn’t self-destruct this moment. Not when it felt like he’d stepped into a rare hidden level that only unlocked when your affection for an NPC was maxed out.
He looked down at you again, marveling at the tiny breath of warmth rising and falling against him.
“You’re like… my safe point,” he mumbled into the dark, letting his fingers finally settle gently in your hair.
A small ping from his PC reminded him a new update had installed.
“Whatever, I already got the best patch.”
Malleus Draconia
It was a rare, quiet evening at Diasomnia. No thunder echoed from the mountains, no duties called for the crown prince, and no students dared interrupt the rare moment of peace Malleus found with you.
The courtyard behind the dormitory was bathed in moonlight, silver threads weaving between tall hedges and ancient statues. You’d been chatting beside him on a stone bench, your legs curled beneath you, fingers grazing his as you recounted a ridiculous tale Ace had told you during lunch. Malleus listened—his eyes never straying from your face, utterly enchanted by your every word. You were warm and brilliant, like the sun he’d always been curious about, and it was moments like this that made him feel closer to understanding it.
But the day had been long. Long classes, longer conversations, and the gentle lull of Malleus’s deep voice had slowly pulled you into the edges of slumber. One moment you were chuckling, your cheek in your palm, and the next… your head tilted gently against his thigh.
Malleus stiffened slightly—not in discomfort, but surprise.
He blinked down at you, your lashes fluttering, your lips parting slightly as your breathing evened out. His first instinct was stillness. Dragons, after all, are patient creatures. He gazed at your peaceful form, processing the trust it took for you to doze off like this—on him. Vulnerable. Soft.
“My treasure…” he whispered, voice low with reverence.
He gently adjusted his posture, making sure your head had a comfortable angle. One clawed hand hovered hesitantly in the air before slowly descending to stroke your hair, tender and cautious, like touching spun gold.
“Even in sleep, you are unafraid of me.” The words were not sad, but filled with quiet awe.
The warmth of your body against him, the subtle scent of your perfume, and the delicate rise and fall of your breath began to unravel something inside Malleus. A rare emotion—one that wrapped around his ancient heart like ivy. He had seen kingdoms rise and fall, yet here you were, the most precious thing he’d ever held, choosing to rest in his lap like he was your sanctuary.
As your hand twitched in your sleep, seeking his, Malleus smiled.
He laced your fingers together, holding you close.
“You will never know harm while I breathe,” he murmured, more promise than poetry.
He remained there, unmoving, for as long as you needed. Watching over you with all the devotion of a dragon guarding his hoard, his heart heavy with love and light.
Lilia Vanrouge
The music from the Lounge had died down hours ago, and yet the two of you lingered in the quiet common room of Diasomnia, curled up on an emerald velvet settee, bathed in candlelight.
You had been scrolling through photos on your phone, laughing at memories, while Lilia lounged beside you, arms spread over the back of the couch, looking for all the world like a retired general watching over his beloved court jester.
His teasing quips had slowed as the hour crept past midnight. You were curled sideways now, legs draped over his, head tucked against his shoulder.
And then… your body shifted slightly.
You sighed—a soft, exhausted exhale—and gently, instinctively, nestled your head into his lap. Your phone slid from your hand to the cushion with a muffled thud.
Lilia paused mid-sentence, blinking. Then he looked down.
“Well, well…” His voice was a whisper, touched with warmth and amusement. “You’ve gone and melted into my lap, little bat.”
There was no complaint in his tone. Only gentle adoration.
He shifted minutely, reaching for a throw blanket folded neatly over the back of the couch. With practiced ease, he draped it over your form, tucking it around your shoulders with a tenderness only centuries of experience could perfect.
As your cheek pressed against his thigh, he could feel the subtle hum of your breath through his clothes. He gently brushed your hair away from your face, taking a moment to admire your features—so soft, so trusting, so utterly you.
Lilia had lived longer than most stars, but never had he found a moment quite like this.
“A sight sweeter than sakura in spring,” he murmured, one gloved hand resting lightly atop your head.
He leaned back, gazing at the ceiling, his other hand lazily tracing invisible patterns against your arm beneath the blanket.
He thought of the countless battles he’d fought, the wars he’d survived, the heartbreaks endured. And yet this moment—this quiet, sleeping you—was what he found himself wanting to protect most of all.
“Don’t worry,” he said quietly, “I’ll keep watch tonight, just as I always have. Even nightmares wouldn’t dare bother you while I’m here.”
A mischievous glint twinkled in his eyes, even as his voice remained soft.
“And if you drool on me, well… I suppose I’ll consider it a badge of honor.”
He chuckled lightly to himself, and resumed playing with your hair, humming a lullaby so old the stars had likely forgotten it. It was a melody sung once in ancient fae courts, now resurrected just for you.
Lilia, the eternal guardian, kept his silent vigil, heart full and content.
#𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐑-𝐋𝐔𝐗𝐔𝐑𝐘#twisted wonderland headcanons#twst headcanons#twst imagines#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland scenarios#twisted wonderland imagines#twst fanfic#riddle rosehearts x reader#trey clover x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#ruggie bucchi x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#jade leech x reader#floyd leech x reader#kalim al asim x reader#jamil viper x reader#vil shoenheit x reader#vil schoenheit headcanons#vil schoenheit imagines#vil schoenheit x reader#rook hunt x reader#idia shroud x reader#malleus draconia imagine#malleus draconia headcanons#malleus draconia x reader#lilia vanrouge headcanons#lilia vanrouge x reader
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ੈ♡˳ 'baby fever' - 18+ logan x f!reader
summary: after your first baby is born, logan realises he doesn't want to stop at just one. (4.4k) tags: erm no one look at me, logan has baby fever, fluffy beginning, established relationship, breeding kink, blowjob, p in v, wet & messy, nipple play, overstimulation, creampie (lots of them oops), lots of dirty talk, clit play, missionary + doggy style, dom!logan & kind of sub!reader, crying from pleasure, rough sex, kind of body worship, for the 'home' prompt for logan promptober.
logan swears he’s dreaming, he must be. there’s no possible way he got this lucky, right? he’s holding his own baby girl in his arms, bouncing her on his hip by the bedroom window, watching on in awe as she eagerly takes in the world around her.
the light dances in her eyes while the world passes by behind the glass, birds singing, trees swaying gently, autumn leaves twirling in their yearly gentle dance. everything is new to her, and logan can’t help but be struck by such a profound love. everything feels new to him now too.
he never thought he’d have this, never thought he’d deserve it. still doesn’t believe he deserves it but accepts the role with more honour than any other role he’s been bestowed before it. a father, him, logan, a father.
her eyes droop, and his smile widens more than he thought possible. he makes his way through to her room as he mumbles sweet little words of affection to her in a voice so high pitched that no one would recognise it's his.
you watch on from the bed, a warmth spreading in your chest. you could watch him like this all day. he was a natural, the paternal instinct coming so easily to him. logan had always felt this deep-seated need to protect. though he spent so many years in solitude with no path and insisted he preferred it that way, you knew differently from the moment you met him. logan was a pack animal, through and through.
his eyes land on you as he returns to the bedroom and approaches you, standing at the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup your cheek in a loving gesture. thumb tracing across your soft skin, he speaks, “you look tired too.”
you smile, eyes closing as you lean into his touch, “maybe a little.”
parenthood hadn’t been entirely easy, but you couldn’t have anyone better by your side.
logan carefully makes his way into bed beside you, pulling you against his firm chest as his hand finds your hair and begins to thread through the strands. you hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, soothing you, lulling you, though he could achieve that with his presence alone.
his eyes settle on the window, head tilting to the side. you can practically hear it, the cogs turning. logan might have seemed like a steel trap to others, but he may as well be translucent to you. “what’s up?“ you ask sleepily.
“oh,” he murmurs, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point that you’re alerted by his silent mannerisms, “just. . . thinkin’.”
and he was, thinking about you, about the baby.
“‘bout what?” you yawn.
logan pauses, “. . .would you ever want another one?”
your eyes shoot open and you lift your head to look up at him, you find his expression and realise he’s serious.
he flushes, just a little, but you notice, “never mind.”
a small laugh of disbelief leaves you, “logan howlett, do you have baby fever?”
he flushes deeper, what did that even mean? logan scoffs and you visibly see him retreat into that shell inside his mind.
“oh baby,” you grin, cuddling against his chest as you lean your chin against his shirt to continue gazing up at him lovingly, “you want another baby, huh?”
groaning, he rolls his eyes, “quit it.” he’s beetroot red now, a sight he only reserves for you, though it’s not as though he can help it.
but damn, the baby was only born a few months ago - he was already thinking of your second? the thought fills you with warmth, but more prominently, need. your eyes land on his flushed face as you bite your lip, wondering if he is thinking about filling you up right this very second.
". . . what'cha thinkin' 'bout?" you ask sweetly with feigned naivety as your hand slides down his torso to find the- oh. oh. he's already hard. you know what he's thinking about.
logan groans and tilts his head back when your hand makes contact, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. "nothin'," he lies, his hand covering yours making you squeeze around his length through the material.
your breath catches in your throat, a heat rising in your chest. "is that right?" you whisper, trying to stay in control. the thought of him taking you, hard and deep, whispering filth about how he's gonna make you a momma again over and over is making it hard to resist rolling over onto your back for him.
and he can sense it, can see it in your face, the way your brows twitch as he grows harder under your touch. it's so cute, actually, how hard you try, knowing he's going to pounce any minute.
but he plays your game, he lets you remain 'in control', though you're anything but.
slowly, you sit up on his lap and begin to unbuckle his belt. time isn't exactly a luxury you can both often afford, what with a newborn baby, but you're too in the moment to care about speeding things up just yet.
his hands rest on your hips, digits digging into the skin as he practices restraint. he wants nothing more than to buck up into you, to throw you on the bed and take you. but he waits. like a good boy.
once he's freed from the constraints of his jeans and underwear, you hum softly at the sight of him, long, thick and ready. your mouth waters at the view, and his eyes widen when you begin to lower your head towards his begging, leaking tip. slowly, oh-so slowly.
logans large hand cups the back of your head, easily engulfing you in his grasp as he guides you lower until he feels it. your tongue. it teases across the tip before you're suddenly wrapping your lips around him. his eyes widen further, letting out a grunt as you take him by surprise.
"holy fuck," he huffs in a grin, "hungry for my cock, huh baby?"
you know now that your control is gone, given up happily and submissively. you know it in the grip he has on your hair, the way he's easing you up and down on his cock. and you'd give him everything if you could, the stars in the sky, the whole world if it were possible.
"that's it, get me nice and ready. . ." he mumbles, losing himself a little in the pleasure, the words dripping from his tongue like honey.
you're not sure what deal logan made with the devil to have the ability to talk as sweetly yet as filthy as he does, as well as he does, but you feel entirely grateful as his sinful words serve to dampen your underwear. you moan against his hardening cock, savouring the way every prominent vein feels against your soft tongue.
he pulls you back, looking into your lustful hazy eyes. you look so pretty like that, he thinks, lips red and swollen from sucking so well, eyes hooded and unfocused because you're thinking about how good that cock would feel stuffed deep somewhere else.
"c'mere," he coos, a hand on your hip guiding you forward to sit closer on his lap, "we need to get you nice and ready too, don't we?"
a growl rumbles from the back of his throat as his eyes travel down the path of your body, resting at the apex of your thighs. he purrs in delight when he notices you're already soaked through to your shorts. "wow, that worked up just from suckin' my cock, baby? you really do want me. . ."
you're bright red, shifting needily on his lap. it's always like this, he drives you to the brink of insanity with need before he's even started. you crave him, crave that thick length filling you so perfectly like it always does, and fuck, you'd give him a baby, you'd give him a hundred babies if it meant you get to experience this over and over again.
"shh," he whispers, his thumb snaking down to tease you through your shorts, applying just enough pressure to have you panting, "there we go, gettin' you nice and ready for my cock, my pretty girl. . ." his eyes flit to yours before returning his gaze to the soaked fabric.
"i am ready," you whine through a choked moan. you're literally dripping.
logan shakes his head, tutting, "tsk, tsk. . . need you extra ready for what i'm gonna do to you, you think i'm just gonna cum in you once?"
holy fuck. your head spins, reeling at his words as you feel your pussy clench around nothing. the ache between your legs grows, almost unbearable, pleading to be filled, used. his name leaves your lips in what can only be described as a needy mewl.
"no," he continues, grabbing your chin and pulling you closer, "see baby, i'm gonna cum in you, over and over. 'till you're nice and full, it's all i've been thinkin' about." his breath ghosts against your lips, "and you're gonna take it like a good girl, aren't you? gonna give me another baby?"
you moan breathlessly, how can you even respond to that? instead you nod quickly, swallowing hard as you try in a futile effort to stop your head from spinning.
but he loves you like this, needy, panting, desperate for his cock. sure, he might have been the one blushing earlier, but you're certainly a pretty shade of red now.
"use your words," he whispers against your lips, teasing you with the promise of a kiss, and a whole lot more.
you feel yourself clench again, his thumb still rubbing soft circles against your clit through your shorts, "please."
"please what?" logan grins, loving how your face twists in frustration.
a whine, "please fill me up, want to give you another baby, please? please, fuck, just fuck me."
he can't help but laugh softly at the needy words spilling from your lips in a desperate attempt to coax him inside. and it's working. his body thrums with pleasure as he remembers how good you feel, how he fits inside you like you were made for him, how good you take it when he gets a little rough.
"that's a good girl. . ." he hums, gripping your hips and flipping you over onto your back. his towering muscled form looms over you, your body opening up automatically, legs spreading and hands by your head. you want him to take you, take all of you. now.
"love this body, was made for me y'know. . ." logan mumbles lovingly as he kisses his way down the column of your throat, hands rubbing at your hips before they begin to inch up your shirt. it rises until it covers your face, and he keeps it there as he nips at your chest. "hm, no bra?" you feel his devious smirk against your skin, tongue beginning to flick teasingly at a nipple.
your back arches, the sensations amplified by the loss of sight. fuck, he loves to watch you squirm like this, and those noises you make. . .
he gives equal attention to both nipples, licking and sucking and kissing your breasts with increasing intensity, smirking all the while. finally, he pulls the shirt from your head, your breath catches in your throat as you look down at him and meet his hungry gaze.
logan begins kissing along your tummy, nuzzling against your soft skin, so close to where you want him yet so far. you want to beg, but you don't get the chance, because soon he's pulling down your shorts along with your underwear. he's greedy too.
kissing the skin that's exposed to him, his kisses trail down your mound, ending at the top of your glistening slit. "ah," he grins, eyes glowing like a man of great discovery, "there she is, she's missed me huh?"
all breath escapes your lungs as he licks a stripe along your pussy, groaning at the taste as he does so. he buries his face in you, licking and nudging your clit with his tongue as he devours you. logan swears it feels better for him than for you, could eat you out all day, but that's not what he's here for this time.
"you're so wet, holy fuck," he swallows, panting softly against your skin, "so good for me, so good, just-" giving a few quick kisses to your pussy, he pulls back and removes his shirt, "don't move."
you almost laugh, why would you want to go anywhere? with a man like logan who worships the ground you walk on, kisses you like it's the first time every time and fucks you within an inch of your life every time - you'd be crazy to want to be anywhere else but here, beneath him, where you belong.
he's worked himself out of his jeans and boxers too, admiring the view beneath him as he takes his cock in his hand, slapping it against your slit. with each squeak that escapes you, his smirk grows wider, "love those noises you make, just for me."
you gasp and arch your back as he begins to rub his tip against your wet folds. you're not sure who he's teasing more, himself or you. a moan slips from your lips each time his cock glides up against your clit, sending sparks to your core.
"that's it, feel how hard i am?" he whispers, "yeah, gonna cum so hard in that pretty little pussy, baby, is that what you want?"
you can hardly take it anymore, "god, yes."
he grins, positioning himself as he hooks your knees on top of his arms as he presses down, almost folding you in half. you gasp and grip the sheets at this new position, and gasp even louder as he quickly and easily slips inside of you. "fucking hell," logan huffs, "i hardly even had to move, you want it so fuckin' bad don't you? feel how deep i can get like this?"
and god, you can. you're not sure you've ever felt him this deep. all you know is how good it feels, his cock straining against your tight velvet walls, finally filling you.
when he begins to move, it's like nothing else. he starts at a slower pace, slow deep strokes as his hips meet yours, driving his cock even deeper as you open up to him. his eyes flutter shut and you admire him above you, knowing you're making him feel as good as he's making you feel.
you find your voice again, and speak up, "your cock feels so good baby, don't stop. . ." you get what you secretly wanted, a moan sneaks from his lips. it's soft, wanting, mirroring the need in your own voice. "fuck, love it when you moan for me. . ."
his eyes snap open, a flash of vulnerability and then his lips are crashing against yours. he kisses you with a deep passion as he moves inside you. logan loves the man he becomes when he fucks you, loves that he can let go, be soft, be rough, be whatever he feels. you'll accept him either way, because you're always a spent mess in the end. all for him.
"takin' my cock so well, always do," he huffs against your lips, driving himself a little deeper, wet sounds filling the air as he slips in and out, "gonna feel even better when i make you cum a few times, when you're so sensitive, taking every last drop i give ya."
you moan and pant, nodding, wordlessly begging him to continue.
"and you'll take it, huh, baby? take it cus you wanna make me a daddy again?" he growls, pace increasing as he fucks you harder, primal instinct taking over, "wanna make me proud and let me fill you as many times as i can? many times as i want?"
holy fuck, you can hardly think straight. in fact, you can hardly think at all. there's one thing, one thought swirling around the base of your skull, you don't want him to ever stop.
you clench around his thick cock and his brows lower, pressing his forehead against yours as he pounds you into the mattress. the bed is squeaking, begging for mercy as he continues, but you feel too good for him to hold back anymore. "baby please-"
"baby please what?" he snaps back, panting as he leans further into you, pushing your legs back until they're almost at your ears. you'd be shocked at your own flexibility if you could think at all. "please fill you up? please make you a mommy again? please what, huh? speak, baby, i can't hear you."
gasping at his tone, you feel your pussy flutter around him. he's gonna make you cum, fuck, you're gonna cum so hard. "i- baby i'm-"
but he doesn't let you finish your sentence, not that you'd make much sense at this point anyway. his cock twitches inside you, almost begging to be milked, begging to fill you until you can't take any more. "gonna cum?" logan whispers, already knowing the answer.
and you can't answer, because you're a mess, gasping and moaning and writhing as his cock makes light work of your wet pussy. his thick length glides in, and out, driving deep to meet your cervix with every thrust.
"cum on this cock," a firm command punctuated with a deep thrust that knocks the air from your lungs, "c'mon, make me cum, you wanted it, didn't you? want me to knock you up nice and good."
your orgasm approaches, a warmth spreading through your lower stomach, rising and rising each time his hips meet yours in his relentless pace. you want to tell him that it feels so good, but your words get caught in your throat. and all at once, your climax rips through you.
it comes in waves, building until your walls are spasming around him and he's cumming too, hot white ropes of cum pushed deeper and deeper as his pace quickens. you're both cursing, panting as his cock pushes it deeper and deeper as your pussy flutters and gushes.
even as the climax fades, he doesn't falter. "told you," logan growls, leaning up to grip your thighs, lifting your lower half to the perfect angle as he keeps it suspended in the air in his tight grip, "gonna cum in that pretty little pussy as many times as i can, 'till i know you're carrying my baby."
it's so overwhelming, in the best kind of way. you wriggle as he begins fucking you again, the new angle causing your eyes to roll back as he hits a certain spot that has you sobbing. it feels so fucking good, both his words and his actions causing you to throb.
"that's it, i know you can take it," he soothes you, "that's my girl, c'mon. . ."
tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure once again building to a crescendo. you don't want him to stop, don't want him to ever stop. though you're so very sensitive, and so very tired, you don't fucking care, all that matters right now is him and the messy love you're making.
he feels a tightening in his gut, his mind spiralling, obsessed with the idea of having another child with you. "you like it when i breed you?" he whispers suddenly, testing the waters.
fuck, that word. did he just say he was. . . breeding you?
logan feels the way you clench around him at the mention of the word and he grins, "yeah, you like that don't you? take that fucking cock like a good girl, let me breed you."
"please-" you beg, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. he's really into this, and so are you, unlocking a whole new side to one another as he fucks you fervently.
how can he resist when you beg so sweetly? he's so sensitive, but his need for release chases him, overwhelming him with how intense his second orgasm is. he spills into you, gasping and grunting as his grip on your thighs tightens. "oooooh f-fuck," logan groans, "feel that? feel me fucking my cum even deeper?"
you're both lost in pleasure now, and with his stamina you know he's not done yet. he grips your hips, flipping you onto your tummy as he grabs your ass, pulling it up for him. keeping his cock nice and warm inside you, he pauses for a few moments.
"can you take another one?" he asks, panting. he'd never push you past your limits, leaning down against your back to give you a gentle kiss on your neck.
your second release is coming, and though you're exhausted, you need more. "yes," you reply, gripping the pillow as he immediately begins to move.
his head tilts back, his palm sliding down your spine, feeling your soft skin beneath his calloused hand and the sensation of your body bouncing back against him. one hand grips your hip as he begins his movements, slowly fucking you, taking his time.
he knows you're close, and he knows your second release will have him cumming a third time, so he focuses on your pleasure. "that's it baby, taking it so well. . ."
you groan into the pillow beneath you, muffled by the fabric. it all sounds so wet, both your release and his dripping from your aching cunt. you know you'll be sore tomorrow, but who the fuck cares? he's fucking you so good you're not sure you'll ever be able to think clearly again.
he's reduced you to a puddle, wet and begging for more.
"such a good girl for me, lettin' me breed you. . ." his hand trails around your front, tickling down along your tummy until he finds your clit. it's swollen, sensitive, and as soon as he begins to play with you, you're a squealing mess.
he grins against your ear, groaning roughly, "you can take it, know you can, make me cum one more time."
you bounce back against him, feverishly chasing each movement, each time he pounds you sending you spiralling further and further into pleasure.
"gonna fuck a baby into you," he kisses behind your ear, "feel all that cum?"
a whine is all you can manage, sweat causing your hair to cling to your forehead, whole body hot and desperate. all for him, always for him.
"yeah you do, take it," he snarls, huffing as he feels his own release build once more. oh god, this one might destroy him. you feel too good wrapped around him like that, the way your wet pussy takes him in so gladly, cause it's his. you're his.
"'m gonna cum-" you cry, sobbing into the pillow as your thighs shake till you can't take it anymore. you're flat against the bed now, his body behind you, taking, pounding against you relentlessly like a man deprived.
but he can't speak, can only communicate in growls and gasps as he explodes inside you, sending you propelling towards your orgasm. it hits you like a bullet, deep, hard, teetering on painful but quickly replaced with so much satisfaction that your screams sound like howls.
he continues working your clit beneath you, slowing his pace until you're both a sweating, panting mess of limbs.
it takes him a while before he can find words, bringing a hand to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear so he can see those features of yours he loves so much. "you alright?" logan asks with that rare soft voice he adopts when he's caring for you. his warm baritones make everything better, voice alone better than any sex.
"mh," you nod, world slowly returning to you in bits and pieces. he pulls out of you, taking a second to admire how very full of him you actually are. he can't help but bite his lip at the sight, watching as his cum leaks from your tight hole, fluttering from the loss of contact.
"didn't go too hard?" he asks, carefully and tenderly turning you onto your front as he grabs some spare pillows.
you shake your head, a smile curling on your lips as you bask in the afterglow, loving how sweetly he takes care of you. he lifts your hips with ease, placing some pillows below.
your eyes lock on one another and he grins, "what?" he asks, "said i was gonna get you pregnant, didn't i? gotta keep your hips elevated, keep me inside."
a flush falls upon your cheeks and you laugh breathlessly as he relaxes into the bed beside you, nuzzling into your neck. he fits against you so perfectly, arm wrapping around your waist while he presses gentle kisses to your skin.
but you feel a mischevious smirk tug on his lips against you, "what is it, logan," you ask in a drawl, grin taking over your features.
"well, was just thinkin'-"
"never a good idea, you, thinking. just leads to trouble," you tease.
he scoffs, "shut up," before continuing, "what're we gonna name out third baby?"
your eyes widen, "third?" he must have made a mistake, maybe he's too fucked out to think straight. you know you are.
"yeah," he grins, his hand snaking from your waist to rest on your tummy, giving it a gentle pat, "after this one."
"more?!" you gasp, slapping his hand with a giggle. "logan howlett." ugh, he's the worst.
he loves that reaction from you, he thinks it's cute you assume he's joking.
except, he isn't joking.
"yeah, c'mon, you think i'm gonna be able to stop at just two?"
you flush deeper, feeling his warm palm splay across your stomach as you tilt your chin down to look into his eyes.
"need names. lots of 'em." logan's eyes sparkle, he's trouble, always has been, and you love it. but you start to wonder if you should have bought a bigger house.
"start makin' a list. now."
#my writing#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine fanfiction#the wolverine#wolverine#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett#deadpool and wolverine#james howlett#james logan howlett#x men#xmen fanfiction#x men movies#marvel x reader#marvel#mcu#marvel comics#marvel mcu#hugh jackman#logan howlett xmen#logan promptober 2024#deadpool 3#logan howlett fluff#wolverine x you#logan howlett fic#hugh jackman x you#hugh jackman wolverine#logan howlett smut
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𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝
Toji Fushiguro
Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader
Summary: Perhaps Toji should've listened to his wife about using sunscreen, but the man never listens.
Warnings: Minors do not interact! Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Public Sex, Creampie, Toji calls you 'princess'
*You might not get sunburnt but you still need sunscreen! Baddies protect themselves against skin cancer❤️
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky
There’s a drawn out whistle behind you from none other than your husband. He watches as you slowly take off your dress and reveal the bikini that you chose to wear for your beach trip. You feel your face get warm, still not used to all the love and attention that he gives you whenever he sees your body.
“Well, aren’t you going to get undressed?” You ask, a risky question considering how Toji is. You bite your tongue the moment the words leave your lips, knowing exactly how Toji is going to respond. You’re about to add more to it, but Toji beats you to it.
“You want to do it here? I’m not opposed to having an audience.” There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he responds, making you roll your eyes. He lets out a chuckle at your reaction before taking off his shirt. “It’s still a little crowded, princess. Wait till everyone leaves.”
“I’m not having sex with you at the beach.” You reply, taking your eyes off him as he shows off his well-toned body. If you could whistle, you’d have the same reaction as him. You add, “Wait till we get back to the hotel.”
“Where’s the fun in that? We have a bed back at home.” He tells you, earning a light hearted slap on his shoulder. He loves to tease you out in public, saying just about anything to get a reaction out of you.
“Come here, let me put sunscreen on you.” You change the topic, wanting to talk about something more lighthearted for the scene.
“I don’t need sunscreen.” He answers, making you frown. He’ll ruin your trip by refusing sunscreen– By the end of the day his skin will be all red and burnt. If he goes wandering around with no sunscreen on then the trip is practically over.
“Toji, if you don’t come here–” You begin but he walks away before you can finish your sentence. Of course. Then he’ll come whining to you later about how his skin burns.
He talks about Megumi’s stubbornness, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“Here.” Toji leans down and hands you a popsicle. You lift your eyes up from your book and notice his rosy cheeks. A couple of hours have passed, and granted, you were right. That’s why he comes to you with a peace offering. He’ll do anything but tell you that you were right.
“What’s this for?” You ask as you prompt yourself up from the comfortable lounge chair. Toji sits on the edge, and you notice how his shoulders and chest are red. You lick the top of the popsicle, tongue circling around it which draws Toji’s attention.
“Just saw the ice cream truck and thought you’d want one, nothing else.” He shrugs. “You know I swam all the way to– Ah, what are you doing?”
“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” You tease him with the popsicle, tracing the cold treat on his collar bone. It does. It feels so nice but he wouldn’t say that to you, at least not now. He won’t prove you right.
“It feels weird.” He tries to push your hand away but it doesn’t work. Instead, your hand moves down and the popsicle goes down his chest. It’s just what he needs, but he won’t admit it. He definitely won’t do it when you’re acting so smug.
“Does it? You look relieved.” You point out with a smirk on your face. He absolutely won’t give you satisfaction now.
“Shut up and eat your popsicle before I take you behind that rock and show you what relief looks like.” His hand wraps around your wrist, and he guides it back to your lips but your lips form into a straight line. You turn your head, and the tip hits your cheek.
“I’m taking the popsicle as an admission that I was right!” You ask him, and he takes the treat back. He brings it up to his lips and takes a bite of it.
“Can’t your husband just be nice? Damn.” He’s irritated, but you’re right. The sunburns are too fresh, he won’t admit that he should’ve put on sunscreen before going swimming.
“I know you.” You snatch the wooden stick from his hand once again, putting the popsicle on his shoulder. “Just admit that it feels nice. I know I’m right either way.”
“Fine. You’re right.” He says, his gaze going elsewhere because he knows there’s a smug smile on your face. He feels your warm, soft lips press a kiss on his shoulder, and he sighs. Maybe it isn’t all bad.
“Tastes like cherry.” You comment, making a low laugh leave his lips. He looks back at you, and presses a kiss on the top of your head.
“You know, the beach is almost empty if you–”
“I’m not having sex with you out here.” You cut him off, reading his mind. He clicks his tongue as he reaches into your beach bag. You notice that he grabs the sunscreen, making you comment, “It’s a little too late for that now.”
“It’s not for me, princess.” He responds, opening the bottle and squirting some of the cream on his hands. Before you can even question it, his hands go to your cleavage, “Isn’t it time to reapply?”
“Toji–” You begin, but he brings you to his lap, unable to escape from his grasp. “You’re a sly little fox.”
“Huh? I’m just making sure my wife is taken care of.” He says as he continues to massage your breasts under the pretext that he’s reapplying sunscreen. His fingers sneakily go under your bikini top, getting too close to your nipples.
“Toji, you’re playing it dangerously.” You warn him before you shove the rest of the popsicle in his mouth. He takes it out and tosses it aside.
“I like danger.” He tells you before his lips land on yours. You lick up the sweet cherry that remains on his lips before quickly pulling away.
You look over Toji again. The way the water drips from his hair down to his body. The water streams down his rosy chest, all the way down to his V-line. He’ll make a sinner out of anyone, that’s for damn sure. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you… The beach is practically empty, who cares?
“I’m going to the water.” You respond, a look of mischief in your eyes. You get up from his lap and begin to walk to the water, a sight that makes Toji sigh. A beautiful sight, dare he say. A sight that makes his dick hard.
“Wait for me!” He yells, standing up and going after you. You’re not too far ahead, making it easy for him to catch up with you. He’s just planning on accompanying you, until he notices that you’re going to the giant rock that he mentioned earlier. Of course you are. “And you’re saying I’m sly?”
“What? I’m literally just going into the water.” You try to play all innocent, an act that he certainly won’t fall for. Maybe in the beginning he would’ve, but Toji knows you too well to know that you’re up to no good. “You have a dirty mind, Toji.”
“Right, I’m the one in the wrong here.” He scoffs. He wants to make a comment about how you’re not even in the water as you hide behind the rock, but he won’t play with his luck today.
“Are we out of everyone’s view here?” You ask, and Toji chuckles. So much for not having sex at the beach. His hands cup your face, lips going down to meet your own. Your hands go to the back of his head, pulling him closer as your back makes contact with the rock.
“You just had to play hard to get?” He pulls away for a second before his lips kiss yours again. One hand trails down your body, going to the bottom of your swimsuit. His fingers run through your folds, and it takes everything in him to not comment just how wet you already are for him.
Toji loves to tease you, but he’ll play it safe considering the situation. He wouldn’t want you to back down now. Maybe when he’s got you all worked up and on the edge he’ll have his way with you.
“Don’t draw any attention to yourself, princess.” He warns you as he pulls away. He likes the risk, but he certainly doesn’t want to get caught. “You got that? Can you do it?”
“Yeah.” You nod, followed by a breathy moan that he tears from you by slowly pushing in two fingers. He smirks. Yeah, you were absolutely right about the sunscreen but he was right about where you’d end up today.
“Good girl.” He praises you, taking his fingers out just as quickly as he put them in. He pushes your swimsuit to the side, grabbing one of your legs and resting it on his hip. He’s all the balance you need right now. “Gonna make this quick, okay? Don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea and steal your book and shit.”
“Wait, my book–” You comment, that part completely forgotten from your mind. Though before the sentence is finished, you feel his tip run through your folds. “It can wait.”
“Yeah.” He chuckles before slowly pushing himself inside you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Toji stretches you out. The man doesn’t waste a second before moving, giving slow thrusts so your body isn’t overwhelmed.
“You’re so fucking tight.” He comments, keeping his voice low. Toji wouldn’t want to draw any attention to himself at this moment. He can’t come up with any possible excuse.
You’re biting down your lip, not trusting yourself to not be too loud. You want him to hear how good he’s making you feel. He always feels so good inside of you, hitting every right spot that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. But you’ll hold back.
He’s groaning. He’s succumbing to the pleasure your pussy is giving him. So tight and warm. So fucking perfect. His thrusts slowly pick up speed, the sound of skin smacking slowly getting louder
“Fuck, Toji–” You moan, your brain slowly working less and less. Your hand goes down to play with your clit, seeking more friction to reach your high. You can’t be gone for too long. The longer you’re here, the higher the risk of someone coming around.
“You want my cum, princess?” His lips go to your ear, and you nod in response. Every thrust just hits every right spot, making it hard for you to contain yourself. Your pussy is squeezing around him, your free hand gripping onto his shoulder. Your breath gets caught up in your chest, and you fully rely on him for balance.
You moan loudly as you reach your orgasm, finishing around his cock. Toji bites your neck, a sort of punishment. Since he can’t make noise, he’ll suppress whatever noise with your body, and this time your neck is the poor victim.
“I need your cum, Toji.” You finally tell him as he slowly loses control. Maybe the excitement of being at the beach has caught up to him. The risk of getting caught certainly makes it more fun.
It doesn’t take too long for Toji to finish inside of you, making a complete mess out of you. A mess that he’ll wipe his hands from since he won’t have to walk around full of cum.
His forehead presses against yours, delivering soft kisses to every part of your face before he finally pulls out of your cunt. He fixes the bottom of your swimsuit, and allows you to regain complete balance before letting you go.
“You ready for the walk of shame?” He finally gets to tease you, and you roll your eyes.
“Worry about yourself, shrimp.”
#dividers by cafekitsune#toji zenin#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji#toji x reader#jjk toji#daddy toji#toji x y/n#toji smut#toji x you#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro smut#toji jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen toji#fushiguro toji x reader
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backseat
sam winchester x fem!reader (ft. dean :)
summary ↬ you're in the backseat of the impala 'asleep', but really, you're just eavesdropping on sam & dean
notice ↬ pure fluff (i promise the angst is coming ya'll (and the smut ;)), dean is a shit as always but not really he's actually a good brother in this one, who else wants to fall asleep in the back of the impala like pleeaaaseee, no use of y/n, lowercase intended !
wordcount ↬ 1.4k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ read part two ↬ frontseat

the rough leather backseat of the impala itches at your legs as they lay curled atop it, your head leaning on the window, foggy and freezing against your cheek as the chilly temperature of north dakota bleeds through. you try to catch up on some much needed shut-eye on the way to the motel.
which, unsurprisingly, is very hard to do when sam and dean winchester are in the front seat, fighting over the stereo.
“if i hear one more led zeppelin song, dean—”
“woah, woah.” you peek your eyes open slightly to see dean’s finger pointed at sam, his face scrunched in a scowl, “there is no room for zep slander in this vehicle, sammy.”
sam laughs sarcastically, shaking his head, his growing, soft wisps swaying in front of the headrest, “fine, then, i suggest you play something produced past 95’.”
dean clicks his tongue in distaste and turns to look past the steering wheel again, “kids don’t know good music.” suddenly, just as you close your eyes, dean calls your name, looking at you through the rearview mirror, “what do you think we should play?”
“silence,” you grumble, trying to shield your vision from the bright street lamps as they flash orange light rhythmically past your closed eyelids.
“alright, ac/dc it is then,” he says, sliding in a new tape—the one you recognize instantly from memory, marked with ‘ac/deanc’ scrawled in messy handwriting on a strip of tape slapped across the front.
as angus young’s guitar starts to echo from the stereo, you slowly melt back into the seat, adjusting until you’ve found a comfortable spot.
you begin to drift off again, fading in and out of consciousness as the tapes change ever so often: metallica, black sabbath, and, when led zeppelin starts to play again, you can just envision sam’s beautiful eyes rolling.
eventually, you rouse awake to the low hum of some billy idol track, the volume way lower now that the car clock signals 3:31am.
you can hear the crinkle of a bag of chips sam is snacking on, dean’s fingers tapping to the beat of the music, and the rumble of baby underneath you.
you’re about to force yourself into more sleep, moving to cover your forearms with your hands to keep them warm, when sam’s soft voice lulls in the silence.
“do you think she’s cold?” he mumbles quietly, and you see, from your low hooded eyes, his head moves just slightly behind the headrest to examine your figure.
he’s right to question it. the temperature is becoming more frigid as the night blooms darker, and you’re sure the goosebumps on your arms are visible if he looks hard enough.
“it’s warm in the car,” dean responds, turning onto a backroad. the car is swallowed in darkness as the streetlamps fade into haunting trees stretching into miles of forest surrounding you.
sam’s tongue pokes his cheek in thought, and without prompt, he’s shrugging the brown carhartt off his body, turning in his seat—you’ve told him to start wearing a seatbelt—and delicately draping the warm material across your shivering shoulders.
a blanket of musk, campfire smoke, and something only described as sam winchester envelops you.
you shut your eyes quickly so he won't suspect you’re awake, but that means trying your damnedest to bite back the smile fighting its way onto your lips at the gesture. you snuggle deeper into the jacket to hide the bottom of your face while pretending to be asleep.
peeking through your eyelashes, you see sam not bothering to hide his own smile at the sight of you nestled under his jacket. your heart picks up.
he re-rights himself in his seat, clearing his throat as he focuses on the road ahead again.
“real smooth, there, romeo.” dean smirks, giving him a knowing nod.
“shut up,” sam shakes his head, picking nervously at a loose thread in his jeans, “she looked cold.”
“oh, did she tell you that, huh?” dean teases again, shoving his shoulder playfully.
sam moves away from his brother’s provoking hand, “eyes on the road, jerk.”
“bitch,” dean scoffs, but you know the grin is there: real and genuine, “just tell her you love her so i can stop watching these mixed signals.”
your stomach twists.
“dean, i don’t—” sam trips over his words, bringing a hand down his blushing face, “i just gave her a jacket in under 30-degree weather—”
“—and patched her up for over an hour after that werewolf got its claws in her, and walked her back to the room when she drank too much, and freaked out when that guy tried picking her up at that bar in minna—”
“that’s called being a gentleman,” sam narrows his eyes, growing more defensive, “and we both freaked out, so don’t try to—”
“i freaked out because the guy looked like a creep, you freaked out because somebody—anybody’s—hands were on her,” dean moves to take a sip of his melted slurpee from dinner, “there’s a difference, sammy.”
the things dean mentions start flooding back into your memory, the gestures at the time seeming so innocent, no possible way for there to be any underlying connotation if you hadn’t thought about it hard enough.
until now, when you’re thinking about it hard enough.
the way sam’s hands shook just slightly as they expertly stitched the gash on your leg, and how his eyes held something else under the concentrated look; a glimmer of worry, fear, even, at the idea that you were hurt.
then, how those hands, no longer shaky, gripped your waist tight to keep you on your feet as you stumbled back to the motel room from the bar one night. you were trashed, the hunt a particularly hard one, yet, he didn’t let you fall. tucked you in and everything.
you had no idea about the last one, of the gross drifter trying to get lucky with you. no clue that it’d bothered him—both of them—but, especially sam in that way. not until now.
and suddenly, they all make sense.
“whatever, dean,” sam says, his words lower than a whisper, like a child who's just been scolded, “it’s never been that way with us.”
“it can be,” dean argues, “‘think i don’t notice the way she acts toward you, too?”
sam laughs mirthlessly, like a light breath escaping past his lips, “drop it, already.”
“i’m being serious!” dean’s voice picks up just slightly, eliciting a “shhh!” from sam as he nods his head toward your ‘sleeping’ figure.
he quiets, “i’m being serious, you’re both idiots.”
well, he isn’t wrong about that.
maybe you had been looking at sam a certain way. with a twinkle in your eye you can’t control. a giddiness you only show when he’s around. the laugh that bursts through your chest at his jokes.
the gentle hand you placed on his, shaky and tactful, as it took care of you that night.
and the expression that met yours when you did so.
you see it flash the back of your eyelids as they flutter against the moon’s glow through the window. you melt further into the smell of him at the memory, wishing it was his arms around you instead. that he wasn’t so far away in the front seat.
“she’s good for you,” dean adds in the moment of silence, “and damn, is she beautiful.”
sam lets the corner of his lips curl into a gentle smile, the thought of you filling his head, of every moment where maybe he didn’t think hard enough either, “yeah,” he whispers softly, “yeah, she is, isn’t she?”
he looks back to you, lets himself take in the image of you underneath something of his keeping you warm, safe.
something in him bursts.
fuck, he loves you.
and, you think you love him, too.
dean’s music fades as you nod off for the last time till you make it to the motel. the impala shifts into park, and the engine growl is sharply cut. you groan as you’re awoken, stretching out your limbs as you yawn loudly.
sam opens the door on your side, peeking his head under the hood, “good morning, sleepyhead.”
you yawn a response, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. instantly, once your vision un-blurs, your chest clenches at the conversation overheard a mere few hours before. you can’t help the deer in headlights stare as you look up at sam’s gentle features, smiling softly at you.
and he has no idea what you heard.
he sticks his large hand out for you to take as you step out on wobbly legs. you refuse to let go of his jacket as it stays hanging on your shoulders.
yeah, you think, i love him.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ sam winchester masterlist !
#supernatural#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester fluff#sam winchester one shot#spn#dean winchester#sam winchester imagine#sam winchester drabble#sam winchester fanfic#sam winchester fanfiction#sam winchester x fem!reader#sam winchester x you#sam x you#sam x reader#fluff#works
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Dense // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader
Summary: A pretty little thing like you isn't flirting with Ghost? Are you?
Based off a prompt that's been a worm in my brain since 8th grade (I'm 25 now) and I'm probably going to write the same exact thing from the other POV.
TW: none, just a little fluffy hopefully funny insight into Simon's thought process.
God, Lieutenant Riley was dense.
That's what most people thought after watching him interact with you for longer than three minutes at a time. You'd been working in communications for two years now, mostly dealing with Captain Price but Ghost was always lurking around somewhere nearby. You'd been warned to avoid him.
He's mean, He's surly, he'll bite your head right off. He's dangerous blah blah blah...
What they didn't consider was that he was a tree of a man- tall, dark, and mysterious with pretty eyes. And you had little to no survival instincts when it came to a man who knew how to shut the fuck up.
It was obvious to anyone who watched you interact with him for any amount of time. How you stood closer to him than need be, how you watched him through your lashes when he spoke his few words to you, the way your voice changed when you spoke to him. Then it was the little touches and little gifts, sitting with him at empty tables when others would turn and walk the other way. You were so sweet on him, maybe even smitten with him.
Ghost never seemed to notice, and if he did he didn't pay it much mind. Just assumed you were just one of those chatty and nice people he seemed to attract every now and then- like Price or Soap. It didn't hurt either that you were sweet & pretty & and smelled good... no, didn't hurt at all and certainly didn't mean anything.
He brushed off Johnny and Gaz's teasings, met Price's knowing looks with icy glares. You definitely weren't flirting with him. There was no way someone like you was pursuing someone like him romantically. That was... ridiculous. Right?
Still. Something about that idea scratched his brain just right. Planted a seed that you unknowingly watered with sweet smiles and bright eyes. So, he started paying more attention.
You never got Price's attention by lingering a small, warm hand on the Captain's bicep- but you did with Ghost. You were chatty with Gaz, but never so much so that you made yourself late to other engagements- Ghost was losing track of the times you'd been chatting at with him only to look at your watch and scurry off with hot cheeks. And Soap could make you laugh, but he never got your cheeks to turn that pretty pink color- Ghost rarely saw you without rosy cheeks. Hmmm... Interesting.
So, he watched and observed (pined and yearned, more accurately). Until one day when he noticed how you flipped your hair over your shoulder as you spoke to him, direct eye contact through fluttering lashes, the dilation of your eyes.
"You have such pretty eyes-" You barely finished your statement before he interjected. He cut you off before you could even giggle, voice stern and hard and quick as those pretty dangerous eyes narrowed in a way that would have chased anyone else off. Not you though.
"Are you flirting with me?"
He asked, taking a looming step closer to you where you were standing by the breakroom coffee machine. He expected you to stutter out an excuse or apologize, or even frantically excuse yourself. He did not expect you to sigh, almost in relief(?) with that bright smile of yours.
"I have been for the last two years." You breathe in admittance, "But thanks for noticing now."
Bloody hell, you were trying to kill him.
----
I wrote this instead of paying attention in lecture
#call of duty modern warfare x reader#codmw x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#lieutenant riley#Simon Riley
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thinking about getting fingered by Steve in the backseat of his car and being crowded against the door and sitting at an awkward angle but not moving because the thought of his fingers losing that spot is a million times worse than the sore neck… just UGHHH 😩
a hungharrington fic? in 2025? i'm just as surprised as you <3 1.3k, fem!reader, what the prompt says hehe MDNI this entire blog is 18+

The numbers on the dashboard blink in the night, reflecting the late night hour.
From the outside, Steve's car looks unassuming, parked in between the trees out by Skull Rock.
You're given away only by the faint fogging of the windows, though you have little doubt of how steamy they'll be soon enough. With the hot heat of Steve's mouth against the skin of your neck and the surety of his fingers, curling closer between your thighs, it's not an if, it's a when.
"God, I missed you s'much," He murmurs heavily. His words get smothered beneath his own fervent kisses, your skin tingling beneath the attention. He can't bring himself to break away from you for more than a moment.
Steve had headed out of Hawkins for the better part of a week, dragged by his parents who wouldn't take no for an answer. He'd returned just tonight, maroon car glinting the last of the evening sun up at your window.
You'd slipped down and taken the passenger seat always reserved for you.
And then, somewhere between there and now, Steve had cajoled you into the backseat, his hazel eyes bright with an adoring lust as he nipped at your neck.
"Missed you too," You gasp breathily.
Tilting back, your head gently hits the glass of the car window behind you. Your hair wipes some of the fog off and Steve nibbles a soft lovebite under your ear, soothing it with his tongue. His hands paw hungrily at your waist and you grapple to find purchase on his shoulders.
"Not as much as me, baby," Steve pants.
He finally pulls himself back from his affectionate attack on your neck, eyes darker, face flushed. His hand on your waist slides forward, following the line of your hips forward, down, til he's cupping your cunt. You think you get a little lightheaded from the way your blood rushes south, gloriously hot at the touch.
He kisses you, his groan seeping into your mouth. It fills your head, heavy and sticky with lewd thoughts.
"Thought of you every," He rubs you through the denim softly. "Damn," Another rub, more pressure this time. "Day."
You keen, hips canting forward, searching for more of that delicious friction. Steve gives you what you want; he always does. You reward him, your hands on his shoulders shifting. You twine your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, just how he likes it.
The inside of the car feels much, much warmer now. The windows can't be seen through anymore and it seems to cast the red light of the dashboard clock much further. Steve's heavy breath fanning across your face is the loudest thing in the car.
You should've worn a skirt, you think— right as Steve asks, "Can I?" his hand now up, thumbing at the button of your jeans.
His check-in douses the ember within you with gasoline, burning hotter, brighter, in an instant. You know what he's asking for, know exactly how well Steve knows how to use his fingers. The thought of them buried in you, crooked just right, suddenly has you aching for it.
Nodding, you murmur out your yes' as you shuffle about, working to kick off your shoes quickly. Steve pulls back to not be in the way, jumping back in time to help you peel the denim off from your legs.
You manage to get your fingertips beneath the elastic of your panties before you're interrupted.
"Keep them on," Steve says, knocking your hand aside. He surges back in, his fervour undulled, and his large hands find your hips, tugging forward.
You end up slightly perched in his lap, slightly pressed into the back corner against the window and the seat. It's an awkward position but when the warmth of Steve's fingers pet your cunt again, cotton stickier now, you can forgive it. You sling your arms around his neck to get closer.
"That's it," Steve murmurs lowly. He ducks his head to reignite every lovebite left on your neck as his fingers get bolder, pressing firmer. Your breath gets thinner, chest heaving more and more.
"God, my girl," He breathes, fingers spreading the wetness up and over your clit tantalizingly. You mewl at his too-soft motions, needing more.
"Steve," You urge.
He doesn't make you wait. Pinching the edge, he pulls your panties to the side and then dips his fingers into the well of slick wet waiting eagerly for him.
You make matching groans; Steve moaning at heat of your inviting cunt, wrapped around him, and you sighing at the way his long digit sinks into you, slow and so sweet.
"Steve," You say his name again, this time a honey, lusty thing.
Steve breaks his kiss to moan against your neck, feeding on the obvious salacious eagerness in you. His finger draws back and then he sinks it back in, beginning slowly to fuck it in and out.
"Missed you," He whispers. A second finger prods at your entrance and eases in gently, sending a streak of something white hot down your spine. Your arms around his neck tighten.
"Missed this," He continues, still a whisper. He's picking up the pace now, having found a lazy rhythm, fingers sliding in and out of your cunt so perfectly that it makes your clit twitch, envious and missing out.
You whine into the crook of his neck. "Me too."
Then, just as you think the angle of your back might be just a tad too uncomfortable, Steve curls his fingers.
A gaspy noise escapes your throat. Desire pulses wildly and you can feel the way you flutter around his fingers. Steve's other hand on your waist tightens, gripping you tightly.
"Fuuuck," He groans. "I missed that too."
Then he does it again, fingers crooked to hit that perfect spot that makes you feel like you might cry if he rubbed it too much. Your noises sound much louder now, jagged and pitching up.
"You're such a tease, honey," Steve accuses, his motions not slowing. "Keeping me from this. Keeping all your cute noises to yourself."
And, as if he'll know what it'll do, he stretches his hand, veins bulging in his forearm, and plants his thumb on your clit. You jolt against the new stimulation, another cute gaspy noise, and Steve moans against your neck.
His hand keeps moving, fingers still plunging into your sopping cunt, thumb rubbing tight, small circles on your clit. You cling to him, hips rolling to meet his strokes, the heat in you building, suddenly desperately fast. Your breathing comes out heavy and if it's not a moan, it's his name that slips from between your lips.
"Feelin' good? M' making my girl feel good?" He says raspily. "You deserve it, being left alone. So mean of me."
Something fiery swells within you and you inhale sharply, squeaking out Steve's name in warning. His hand, which must be cramping much like your poor back, still rocks into you, unfaltering.
"C'mon, let me have it. Please," He pleads. "Let me see you cum f'me, honey."
The sincere thread in his voice, the genuine plead, is what unravels your last ties. You tremble, lusty and quivering sounds that you bury away in his neck, as you ride his fingers through a dazzlingly hot high. It drags on, nerves glittering with a fresh coat of pleasure that have you whining Steve's name pitifully.
When your breath starts to settle, Steve eases his fingers out, already beginning to pepper little kisses along the side of your head.
"That was big, huh?" He says. It's mostly care in his voice but there, in the back, is a smidgen of smugness.
"Shhhh," You shush him, still gathering yourself, eyes closed. You body gives a volatile twitch when Steve politely moves your panties back to their original position. "I'm deciding if that was worth fucking up my back a little bit for."
Steve makes a wounded noise, realising that he'd had you crowded up in an uncomfortable position the whole time. He's a worrier. That's enough to make you lift your head off his shoulder, eyes lidded low.
"Mmm, decided." You hum, the pleased smile of post-bliss on your face. Steve softens at the sight of it, at your easy happiness. "Worth it."
#written in one go! so let me know if there's anything errors pleek <3#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve x reader#jay writes#steve harrington smut#steve smut#steve harrington x reader smut#steve x reader smut#stranger things#stranger things smut#anon#she'ssssss maybe potentially quite possibly baaaaaack !#[does jazz hands]#whew ok now i need to go take a cold shower cos writing that got me BOVERED#edit: can someone tell me if the pic looks more sexy or more serial killer. its a fine line with parked cars and red lighting lmao
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𐙚⋆˙j’s note: found this in the drafts lol. warning: mature content 18+ cockwarming﹒nsfw
waking up to the glorious feeling of your boyfriend’s cock snuggled deep inside of you, filling you to the brim.
you’re impossibly tired, head resting against rafe’s shoulder, eyes closed in protest of the morning light streaming through the windows. clinging to him like a koala bear to a tree, arms draped around his neck and legs locked around his waist. his bare chest is warm against your body, skin still carrying the faint scent of sex, sweat and cologne. one hand is firmly gripping your thigh to keep you supported, while the other is busy rummaging through the top drawer of the dresser, muttering under his breath about something he can’t find.
“rafe,” you mumble sleepily, lips muffled against his skin as you cling tighter. he lets out a low, raspy laugh, his morning voice impossibly sexy.
“you awake, clingy girl? thought you were still knocked out.” too tired to respond properly, you tighten your hold on him, legs squeezing his waist. he shifts slightly, adjusting you on his hip without pausing his search.
“what are you looking for?”
“my wallet,” he replies, glancing down at you. “unless you hid it somewhere.”
“didn’t hide anything,” you mumble, pressing a lazy kiss to his collarbone. “jus stay here with me.”
“princess, i’m literally inside you while i multitask,” he pulls open another drawer. his grip on your thigh tightens slightly as he makes sure you’re secure. as he does this, the angle of his cock inside you shifts; prompting a weak whimper to escape your lips. rafe sucks in a deep breath.
“what more do you want?” he chides, his tone laced with mock exasperation. a sudden twitch of his cock makes you both groan in unison.
“for you to stop moving,”
“princess, you can’t just hang on me all day,”
“yes, i can,” you insist, your words slurred with drowsiness. “you’re comfy.” rafe lets out a low chuckle, pausing his search to glance at you.
“you’re impossible, you know that? i’ve got shit to do.”
“you can do them with me right here,” you insist, clenching around him. his free hand finally snags his wallet from the drawer before sliding the drawer shut with his hip.
“so this is it, huh? i’m just your personal mode of transportation now?” rafe shakes his head, but his hold on you stays firm as he starts moving around the room, grabbing his phone and a hoodie.
“uh-huh,” you murmur, nuzzling into his neck as if to make your point. “and i’m not getting off, so don’t even try.”
“yeah, yeah,” he drawls, rolling his eyes as he adjusts his grip on your thigh.
“but if you fall asleep on me, i’m pulling out.”
“you wouldn’t dare,” you reply, cracking one eye open to glare at him.
“try me,” he teases, though the slight curve gracing his lips as he leans down to kiss you tell you he’s full of it.
#rafe cameron#outer banks#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron blurb#rafe obx#rafe cameron imagine#rafe smut#rafe x reader#bf!rafe#drew starkey#rafe cameron x you#drew starkey x reader
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She Chose Me
Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader
Synopsis: Ekko asks you to help him pierce his ear, but it leads to something unexpected.
Word count: 2.2k
Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), established relationship, childhood friends to lovers (speed run edition), lovestruck! Ekko, spoilers for season 2, CW blood mention, fluff.
@yumeaoka-chan -- I combined your prompt (using z-drive after R confesses) with this one I hope it's okay! If not I can still do your request 🫶
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“Stop moving, Ekko.” Your hands pause on his ear lobe, the needle in between your index and thumb shakes slightly from trepidation.
“I'm not.” He says, brows pinched together, nose scrunched up in front of the cracked hand mirror he's holding.
“Yes, you are. You're fidgeting.” Leaning down, knee pressed on the side of his thigh whilst he's sitting down on a tiny stool. Chin laying atop his shoulder, you stare at him through the mirror. “Just breathe, boss man.” He huffs at the nickname, the small smile on his lips betraying the annoyed huff.
Ekko seems confident in his seat, brown eyes steady, breathing stable and his hands don't tremble despite the looming danger he's about to face. Danger you're about to face.
The tree house is brightly lit with the warm lamp illuminating directly at him and you. But the air around you sits heavy with worry and fear for what's to come. He may seem fine on the outside, but he's frozen with fear inside. His stomach feels like it's about to flip at any moment, breath heavy inside his throat, and heart pounding with every second it ticks by. He's afraid, deadly afraid. But he won't let it show, especially to you. And yet, you know. You can see it in how his eyes dart back and forth from the clock ticking in the corner, then over to the reflection of your face. You've known him for a long time, ever since you grew up with him on the same streets.
Familiarity comes with it, affection dragged alongside the familiarity.
“I'll just do it myself.” Twisting around in his seat, stool squeaking, he tries to grab the clean needle from you. He fails when you move it away from his reach. “C’mon, if you don't want to do it, I'll do it.”
“Too late for that. Besides, I already disinfected it.” You tilt your head with the same look you give him whenever you catch him lying. Surrendering, he drops his hand to his lap.
“Then why are you hesitating?” His eyes narrow at you, trying to ignore how his jacket looks good on you. “Do you still not believe me that it'll look good?”
“No, I believe you.” You click your tongue, pushing the swivel stool so that his back is turned away from you. He rolls his eyes at your indignation. “I know you'll look good with anything, Ekko.” Lifting up the mirror with your hand wrapped gently around his wrist, you can see yourself in the mirror again, and how his eyes avoid your own. He doesn't flinch from the contact, he languishes in it. “It’s just that— your timing is a bit off.”
You've iced his bruises, lovingly painted on his face with the same hourglass shape almost everyday, it's only natural that you'd pierce his ear too. Despite your initial protest.
“No time like the present.” Ekko glances at your reflection, your eyes boring into the side of his head with worry. For a second, he contemplates whether or not he should tell you what happened in the alternate universe. But he thinks it's better off telling you about his feelings for you rather than explain what he experienced. One day he'll tell you, but for now he focuses on winning the war so that day would come. It's easier to explain that he's been in love with you for the past seven or so years. But he won't actually do it now, right?
“I thought about it, Y/N. I'm sure.”
Smiling, you take his chin gently in your hand, making him face the mirror and in turn face you. “I know you don't do anything half assed.” Flicking your eyes at his hair, you smile wider, “I mean, that hair?” You whistle lowly. “You look fucking dapper, more than ready to take on the whole noxian army.”
Ekko swallows thickly, hands clammy, and the mirror in danger of slipping from his grip. “Thanks.” Inhaling, he hides his flustered self effortlessly. He's experienced in that area after years of doing it. He clears his throat. “Can you please just do it?”
“Of course.” You lean away, assuming the previous position of you holding the needle at his earlobe. He can't ignore how warm your hands are, or how your eyes trace the slope of his face with a sneaky look. “When you stop squirming that is.”
With a roll of his eyes, Ekko swiftly twists the seat to face you once again. The sudden momentum has you almost falling backwards, if not for his hands holding and catching you in place, you would've fallen flat on your back. You notice his warm hands on your bare waist, cropped shirt leaving your skin naked and in full display for him.
You thought that he would pull back from the contact and how you look at him with wild eyes, but within a second, he pulls you in, standing you in between his legs. Placing your hand on his shoulders, and the other accidentally on his bare stomach, you're careful not to poke him with the needle. Your eyes never left his, and his own never left the comfort of your stare.
“I don't…” His eyes stare intently, hands squeezing the dip of your hips. “...Squirm.”
Your skin is aflame, goosebumps spreading like wildfire all over you. “N–No, you don't.” You feel like a puddle, and he's ready to soak you right up.
He nods once, taking your wrist and placing the needle to graze at the shell of his ear. “Glad we could finally agree.”
Cupping his cheek with your free hand, you sigh. “I'm worried about you, Ekko.”
“Is that why you're stalling?” He asks, leaning against your hand as he stares up at you with soft eyes.
“That, and I've only pierced ears thrice in my life. Two for me, one for Scar.” Chuckling, you brush your thumb right under his tired eyes. There's a shine on those eyes you love so much, something akin to hope. You know he saw something in those months he was gone. He isn't ready yet to tell you, but you're willing to wait and stick around just for him. He doesn't even need to tell you anything, he's already here back with you and that's enough. “I–I don't know what's gonna happen out there. I know not getting injured is out of the question, but please, I still want to tell you to be careful.”
His vision flashes back to you in the other universe, where your eyes aren't permanently etched with fatigue, lips forever pressed together in a smile. She was you, and her lips were on his own for a moment. But he knows you and her aren't the same person. Both were born and raised in Zaun, but lived in two different circumstances.
And yet, both chose to be with him.
“Ekko?” With your voice calling him, he blinks and your face greets him back, the same face he grew up with, the same face he loved throughout the years. “I won't pierce your ear until you promise me.”
“I love you.” He blurts out, but not lacking sincerity.
You chuckle, needle almost slipping from your fingers. “You do?”
“Yeah, figured, why the hell not?” His nonchalance helps hide his apprehension.
“Is this your way of making me pierce your ears?” You say through the unshed tears.
Ekko raises a brow, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile. “You're stalling again.”
“This time I'm not.” Sitting down on his lap to level with him, he graciously lets you with his hand pushing on your waist so you could be closer to him. His hands never left your body, holding you in place. Cupping his cheeks, you pull him closer to your waiting lips. “I was just taking the time to simmer in your confession. Scar owes me lunch.”
“You bet on—? Shut up about Scar—” with a soft push against the small of your back, he meets halfway with you. Finally sealing your lips with a much awaited kiss.
Ekko hums against you, the sound reverberating from your lips down to your chest, filling it with warmth. He holds you flush against him. Chest to chest, arms holding you impossibly closer. The sound of your lips in sync with his echoes around the small room. Eyes closed, you memorize how he feels on you, how his breath stutters against you, and how his eyes fluttered closed the second you kissed him back with the same softness and fervent.
His hands slither across your back until he blindly reaches for the back of your neck, pulling you closer, angling your face to better kiss you fully. It's the first kiss out of many, sloppy, smiling in between, teeth still clashing together, and nose knocking against one another, but it still has you breathless in his arms.
“Ekko.” You whisper, leaning slightly away to intake air back into your lungs. “I love you too. Have been since you accidentally knocked me unconscious with a wrench.”
He blinks, hand moving away from you to pull at the rope on his z-drive. The world goes back a few seconds with you locking lips with him, heaving in place, hands balled around his hair.
“I love you too. Have been since you accidentally knocked me unconscious with a wrench.”
He beams at you, pulling and releasing the rope back to reverse time once more to hear the words he has only heard in his dreams.
You pull back away from him, lips obviously kissed. “I love you too. Have been since you accidentally knocked me unconscious with a wrench.”
Ekko chuckles, placing his forehead atop yours to breathe you in. You giggle, releasing his hair to slide your hands down and move towards his chest to feel his beating heart against your palms.
“Sorry, just wanted to hear you say it again. You fell for me because of that?”
Your brows furrow at his peculiar words. Eyes moving at his hand that's still clutching the rope, you laugh. “You could've just asked me to say it again. The wrench probably knocked something loose.” You joke, still panting from the kiss.
Leaning away, his knuckles brush along your jaw then down to your lips where he wipes the sheen with his thumb. “And I wanted to kiss you again.”
“You should've said so.” Your eyes are practically shaped like hearts. “Pucker up, Ekko.”
He smiles, closing the distance once again. The kiss was much more familiar this time, soft and gentle, savouring every second of it. Your nose still nudges his own, but it's intentional this time. He still smiles during the kiss, but it's because you do too. Once he reluctantly moves away to inhale, you grab his face, pecking all over his cheek, chin, nose and forehead, until there's no space that's left unkissed. You pull away, and he does the same, lips smacking carefully against the tip of your nose, in between your eyes, and cheekbones, until you're a giggling mess in his arms.
Ekko looks at you with a lopsided smile, giddiness etched on his ecstatic expression. “Now we're both stalling.”
“At this point we're not getting anything done. Baby blue might bust in here to tell us off.”
“Later then.” He promises, a promise to be careful, a promise that he'll come back to you alive.
You nod, kissing him chastely, eyes tightly closed with a hope that your kiss would single handedly protect him. Pulling away, you grin at him, easing him some more. “Later, I promise.” You vow him the same thing.
“Okay,” he pats your thigh, reluctantly lifting you off his lap. “Come and stab me.”
Shaking your head with a smile, you take a fresh needle and quickly disinfect it since the needle you were holding onto is long gone in between the floorboards. Cleaning your hands, you shake your nerves away, and the trembling in your hands, not from the anxiety but from his breathtaking kiss.
Holding his ear lobe, you're the one holding your breath in once he nods at you to do it. With the needle piercing him, and the new silver hoop earring in, you marvel at the sight of your handiwork.
You hold the mirror up, showing him the back. “You didn't bleed much, thank fuck. What do you think?”
Ekko, rotates on his seat again, grabbing you by your hips with his finger looped around your belt loops and pulling you closer as he looks up at you with endearment.
“I like it, what do you think?” He plops his head on your shoulder, careful not to nudge his new piercing.
“You're right, it suits you. You look very handsome.” You whisper, hand splayed over his back, and lips blowing air into his warm ear, making him flinch away. He looks at you, feigning offense but his mirrored smile says otherwise. “You're welcome, you still need to pay me though.”
“Oh really?” The silver earring sparkles in the light as he tilts his head teasingly. “In what kind?”
You pretend to think. “Hmm, I'll take payment in kisses.”
He shrugs, taking your chin in between his fingers. “Pucker up then. I have too much so I expect some spare change right after.”
#the kr8tor's creations#ekko fanfic#ekko x reader#ekko#ekko lol#ekko league of legends#ekko arcane#ekko arcane x reader#arcane ekko x reader#arcane ekko#arcane x reader#arcane fanfic#ekko fluff#ekko fanfiction#ekko imagines#cw blood mention#x reader#fanfic#request done#ekko x fem reader#ekko x you#arcane imagine#arcane fanfiction#arcane spoilers
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