#gonna take a break before my wrists snap

[black-and-yellow]

What I got so far

Using Danny as a reference (10 points if you know which video) but idk whether I'll keep it as jim when I do the lineart or if I'll change it to Louis.

[yannawayne]

not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.

SYNOPSIS: You get kidnapped and Damian snaps. TAGS: Graphic Depictions Of Violence! Genderneutral! Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Kidnapping, Childhood Trauma, My Mother is the Worst Woman Alive and I'm her Favorite Son, Damian is Eighteen.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.

The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.

"Beloved."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

YOUR PALMS WERE PRESSED tightly against your eyes, wrists raw and burning from the rope that had bound them just minutes ago. Sobs slipped from your lips, eyes bloodshot, and mouth parched dry.

The rotting smell of the warehouse was an assault on your senses—an acrid mix of trash, harsh chemicals, and the faint tang of gunfire that lingered in the air.

There was a hushing in your ear as you leaned against a cloaked figure—Batman. Bruce. 

His hand rubbed at your back, firm and steady, a grounding presence amid the chaos. His cape, dark and imposing, wrapped around you like a shield, blocking out the violence unfolding just in front of you.

Shadows danced erratically on the walls as Robin moved with lethal precision. Bodies fell unconscious, thudding heavily against the concrete floor. Blood splattered. Screams echoed. Each punch landed with a sickening crunch, bones breaking. Crates and debris were scattered haphazardly, wood and concrete slamming onto the floor. 

Damian couldn't see anything but red.

His vision was tunneled, focused solely on the next target, the next blow, the next scream. 

A swift roundhouse kick sent one assailant crashing into a stack of crates, the wood splintering under the impact. One punch connected with a jaw, the sickening crunch of bone breaking echoing through the air. Blood sprayed on his fist. Another one rushed toward him, brandishing a knife, but he disarmed the man with a swift twist of the wrist, jamming the blade into the attacker's palm. The man screamed, clutching his arm as red streaked his skin.

Damian's eyes flickered with a dark satisfaction as he watched the thug stumble backward, clutching at the wound.

One last man remained. One who had lunged at him from behind, grappling onto his back. Damian scowled and surged backward, driving both himself and his attacker into the wall with bone-crushing force. The man's grip loosened, a pained gasp escaping his lips as the air was knocked out of him.

"Fool," Damian spat, his voice dripping with venom. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

The thug whimpered, trying to scramble away, but Damian was relentless. He twisted sharply, dislodging the assailant and slamming an elbow into his ribs. The man crumpled against the wall, clutching his side, his eyes wide with fear and pain.

"You think you can touch those I care for and get away with it?" Damian growled. He didn't give the thug a moment to recover. He swung a powerful fist into the guy's face, the impact sending a spray of blood and teeth into the air. 

"F-Fuck you, man!" The man yanked a gun from his waistband, but before he could even line up a shot, Damian’s foot kicked out, sending the weapon flying through the air. The gun clattered against the concrete with a deafening clang. With a snarl, Damian lunged forward, grabbing the thug by the collar and slamming him into the ground.

"H-Hey! Mercy! Mercy! I'm a-already down!" the assailant wailed, his hands clawing at Robin's uniform in a desperate plea. "The Bat don’t kill! You—you ain't gonna kill me!"

Damian's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as his voice dropped to a low, menacing growl.

"I'm not Batman," he spat, the tone amplified and darkened by the modulator. "Every breath you take is a mercy I choose to grant. By the time I'm finished, you'll be begging for death."

He raised his fist, the tension in his muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. The thug’s eyes widened in terror, his pleas growing frantic as he braced for the blow. However, just as Damian’s fist was about to land, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, grabbing onto his hand with a vice-like grip. Before he could react, Batman—Bruce—had tackled him, pinning him firmly against his chest. 

“Robin,” Batman’s voice was firm, concern barely concealed. “That’s enough.”

Damian's struggle was fierce, his body thrashing under his father’s strength as he roared in fury.

“Let me go!” he screamed, his voice raw with anger. “I’m going to kill him for what he did to them!”

The anger engulfed Damian like a stormy ocean, dragging him beneath its violent waves. Visions of his mother’s face, his grandfather’s form, and accusing shadows surged from the depths, all condemning him. Damian’s cries erupted into a raw, guttural scream, gradually dissolving into ragged gasps as he battled the relentless tide.

Though Bruce had shaped him into a hero, a beacon of justice, and his family had offered him a fragile semblance of belonging, Damian was still his mother’s son.

The violence and anger roiling within him were like roots twisted deep within his soul. There was not a thing that could purge the primal rage and pain that had taken root before his first breath.

When he finally broke through the surface, baptized in blood and weighed down by sins that clung to him like chains, he sought you out with an urgent, almost desperate need.

A heavy thud. Ragged breaths. Then the sound of footsteps.

The same hands that had ruthlessly beat your kidnappers to a pulp—the ones that had pulverized flesh with blood splattered across his knuckles, the ones that had heard the crack of bones beneath his grip, the ones that bore the scars of countless cuts and stabs—now traced your cheek with a featherlight touch.

"Beloved."

Your hands were carefully peeled away from your eyes, and you met soft emerald eyes through a veil of tears. His hands moved to unlatch his cape, the soft fabric pooling around your form. His lips, speaking in his mother tongue, murmured a soothing litany of comfort, Arabic endearments flowing like silk. He pressed your head against his chest and you found refuge in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 

Bruce watched the scene with a pensive look. His son's body had dwarfed you, broad shoulders and strong muscles enveloping your form like a shield. His head was tucked into your hair, his hands raking all over your tense and sweaty skin.

Damian had momentarily shed the hardened exterior he so often wore—a soldier with a heart that, despite its armor, occasionally revealed cracks. This was a side of him that often surprised people.

Because Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.

He was all sharp edges. Poisonous, scalding words that could sear through the thickest armor of patience. Rough, nearly violent in his touch, like a blade pressed against skin. There was no gentleness in his movements, no softness in his gestures, only the relentless precision of a trained killer.

From the earliest moments he could walk, his life was an unending series of tests, each more grueling than the last. Each cut and bruise was a lesson. Failure was met with harsh punishment, success with silent approval. Affection and praise were as rare as mercy. 

The League’s doctrine was ingrained in him: emotions were vulnerabilities, attachments were liabilities, and loyalty was owed only to the mission and the League. His purpose in the League of Assassins was clear—to be the perfect instrument of their will, a living embodiment of their principles. 

Emotion was his enemy, a weakness to be purged.  He was taught to suppress his feelings, to turn them off like a switch. Pain was an illusion, fear a phantom to be banished. He learned to compartmentalize his thoughts, locking away his humanity in the deepest recesses of his mind. 

By the time he reached ten, he was a finely honed instrument of death.

A living weapon in a world that knew no peace.

It had taken Bruce eight grueling years to begin undoing the damage. And even then, he had barely scratched the surface.

Then there was you.

The trembling, warm-faced student Damian had introduced during his senior year—his partner for a science project, he said. 

At first, the interactions were subtle—a fleeting glance here, a hesitant smile there. But as time went on, it became impossible to ignore the way your presence began to soften the sharp edges of Damian's demeanor.

Bruce had seen you both fall for each other over the months. And he saw hope. 

You were the opposite of every lesson Damian has ever been taught.

To him, you were soft, in every sense. Soft movements, soft features, soft voice. Everything about you exuded comfort.

You made something he had always pushed down and shut away come to the surface.

You made him feel things—things he should not.

When you touched him with your soft hands, everything in him burned. The gentle brush of your fingers against his skin ignited a searing heat, a raw and unfamiliar longing that clawed violently at the walls he had worked so hard to maintain. Each touch chipped away at the concrete barriers of his training, breaking them down and leaving him exposed, aching for something he couldn’t quite name.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

Mania. Drake had called it, a wild obsession of his that could consume and devour.

Damian's arms encircled you like a lifeline, holding you close as though he feared you might slip away. His lips brushed against your temple, warm and tender, while his biceps pressed firmly under your chest, anchoring you in his embrace. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, blood, and the lingering residue of fear. 

And yet, amidst these odors, there was an underlying, almost imperceptible hint of Damian’s cologne—Arabian oudh. It was rich and smoky, with notes of aged wood, a faint earthy sweetness, and subtle undertones of leather and spice.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, the fabric of his suit brushing against your cheek.

A Crush. Todd had chalked it up to puppy love, something that would eventually fade with time.

He lifted you effortlessly from the floor, his strength evident in his smooth, controlled movements. The way he adjusted his hold with such care to ensure your comfort spoke louder than any words could.

Warmth enveloped you—Damian had always run hotter, like a human furnace. On sweltering days, his clinginess (no matter how much he denied it) had been a nuisance, his heat making you feel as if your skin might melt off. But now, that same warmth was a comforting embrace, a welcome shield.

Infatuation. Grayson had suggested, thinking it was just a fleeting, intense passion. But there was something deeper in the way he looked at you, something that felt permanent and unshakeable.

“I am here. I am here, beloved," he spoke to you lowly. "It's alright now."

Love. His father called it.

In an instant, everything seemed to collapse around you. Tears welled up and streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed into his chest, each shudder of your body sending waves of anguish through him. Damian’s heart twisted painfully at the sight of you. 

He has seen suffering—he has inflicted suffering. But this was different. Your pain was a torment he was helpless to alleviate. 

Face twisted in guilt, he pulled you tighter against him, as though he could hold the world’s pain at bay if he just held you close enough.

A hand tapped at his shoulder, and he flinched, turning to see his father.

“The Batmobile is just by the docks. We can—”

“They're in shock,” Damian scowled. the fire back in his eyes. “Do you honestly believe they're in any state to be moved at this moment?”

Bruce’s gaze was firm. “Damian, we don’t have time to—”

“They need to be stabilized first,” Damian cut in sharply, his tone brooking no argument. He turned abruptly, striding towards the exit. “If you want them to survive this, we need to take care of them properly, not rush them into a car. I shall be outside.”

Without waiting for a response, Damian moved swiftly, the clatter of his boots echoing as he stepped into the cool night air with you. Once the warehouse door closed behind him, he turned his full attention back to you, his hand gently brushing your tear-streaked face. 

He moved to press his forehead gently against yours, the warmth of his skin meeting yours in a tender connection. He could offer no verbal comfort anymore; words seemed woefully inadequate. Your cries gradually subsided as you drew comfort from his presence.

Love.

He lifted his hand to the side of his face, pressing a button. As his mask retracted, his eyes met yours. Damian knew that more than anything else, you loved his eyes.

Time and again, you found yourself drawn to them, unable to tear your gaze away. They were hypnotic—an exquisite blend of emerald green, green as vibrant as the leather cover of his sketchbook, flecked with gold and streaked with brown paint.

His eyes were windows to his soul, offering the only genuine glimpse into the depths of his emotions. In them, you could see his anger burning like a stormy sea, joy dancing like sunlight on rippling water, embarrassment flitting like a shadow, and pain etched as deep as his scars.

At times, his eyes grew gentle, revealing something much softer—something that made your heart swell and your knees feel weak. A love so pure and unexpected that it could melt the coldest of hearts.

Damian Wayne was the farthest thing from soft.

But in these soft, fragile moments he shared with you, where his heart beat in sync with yours, Damian found an unexpected calm. It was in these rare interludes, away from the brutality and darkness that defined his world, that he could truly be himself.

Here, he was not a weapon but a person—capable of loving and being loved.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ♱

ao3: yenwayne

NOTE: I want to delve into the line I wrote: 'Damian is still his mother’s son.'

It's just to show his trauma, I despise Talia with all my guts.

Talia's control over Damian is a textbook example of manipulative conditioning at its most extreme. In psychological development, early experiences and parental influence are crucial in shaping one's self-concept. From his earliest days, Damian was deprived of a normal childhood. His personality, thoughts, and desires have all been sculpted by the League of Assassins from day one.

His anger, protectiveness, and sense of duty are manifestations of this—a child raised to be a killer, now struggling with the fragments of a humanity that was never fully allowed to blossom.

I'm not saying he hasn't changed!!! He has turned into so much more than the weapon they intended him to be. He is genuinely good. But the impact of such deep-seated trauma cannot be easily overlooked or resolved. It’s not something that can simply be swept under the rug or fixed overnight.

So, this was my attempt at capturing his character! I’m very open to constructive criticism since I’m new to the fandom. Please be kind and gentle with your feedback :)

[xoamiiren]

KISSES AFTER CHAOS, ⋆｡°✩ 𓈒𓈒 making up

𖥔 PRECIS. they comfort you after a silly disagreement. PAIRING. patient bf!enha x stubborn gf!reader GENRE. fluff WARNINGS. skinship, mild kissing, pet names

authors note ୨୧ I kept these all fairly simple and sweet. I think Jake’s is my favorite only because I can see it so clearly.

─────────

HEESEUNG

Heeseung stood nearby, glancing over at you while pretending to be busy, giving you your space after your argument.

Each time he tried to approach or touch you, you yanked away, so he respected your silent request for distance.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone entirely.

Instead, he watched as you moved around the room, doing small tasks for you even when you’d roll your eyes and mutter “I can do it myself”, feeling the tension between you.

You worked quietly, but you could sense his eyes on you. As you huffed and passed by him one more time, trying to brush by quickly, Heeseung’s hand suddenly caught your wrist.

His soft voice broke the silence.

"C’mere," he murmured, pulling you into his chest.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, his chin resting on your head as he kissed your hair.

"I’m sorry, love... okay? I’m sorry..." he whispered, the warmth of his embrace melting your resistance.

A small, knowing smirk tugged at his lips when you nodded quietly and hugged around his waist. He was fully aware of how dramatic you could be, but he adored it.

JAY

After 20 minutes or so, Jay figured you had calmed down after your blow-up.

So, he made his way to you and found you sitting at your desk in your shared bedroom.

Jay pulled the chair out and knelt down in front of you, bringing himself to your eye level, his gaze softening as he spoke.

“Baby... I’m sorry. This is stupid, and I want us to work through it... is that alright?”

His hand reached up to gently fix a strand of your hair, his touch tender as he rubbed your thighs and knees, waiting for any kind of response.

When you stayed silent, still stubbornly holding your ground, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, sensual kiss.

Pulling back, Jay raised his eyebrows with a playful smirk, imitating your shocked expression.

“We’re done fighting,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Get dressed, we’re going out.”

JAKE

Jake found you on the bed, sitting up against the headboard, staring out the window in silence after snapping over something minor.

He approached cautiously, not wanting to push too soon.

His pinky softly hooked with yours, a gentle, hesitant touch.

When you pulled away and crossed your arms, he played with the hem of your shirt instead, his fingers brushing your skin as he looked at you with those irresistible puppy eyes, waiting for you to break.

When you still didn’t budge, Jake leaned in closer, his voice soft.

“Come closer, (y/n)… please? I’m sorry…”

He carefully slotted himself behind you, wrapping his arms around your hips, swaying the both of you gently.

Even though you were still sulking, Jake couldn’t help but chuckle a little, amusement in his tone.

“Baby~ let’s stop. Hm?” He nuzzled into your neck, waiting for you to finally give in to his warmth.

SUNGHOON

After your argument, Sunghoon gave you space, taking a quiet drive to clear his head.

It had been insignificant, but knowing you were upset, he knew better than to let it fester.

When he came back, you were still in the living room, lost in thought.

Without a word, he walked up behind you, gently grabbing your hips and pulling you back against him with, before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“C’mon... let’s talk,” he murmured.

He took your hand, pulling you toward the bedroom.

You purposely dragged your feet, a little pout on your face, whilst you rolled your eyes.

But inside, you were secretly excited.

Sunghoon glanced over his shoulder with a knowing smirk, shaking his head.

“What am I gonna do with you, (Y/n)…” he sighed, his voice playful as he tugged you in behind him.

“I have a few ideas…” you shrug, walking past him towards the bed.

He raises a brow, but shuts the bedroom door before moving towards you.

He has a special way of apologizing.

SUNOO

Sunoo always preferred giving you both some time to cool off after an argument, but it wasn’t long before he started making his way back into your good graces.

“Babe, I’m gonna do my skincare, maybe have a bath… come with me?” he called out, peeking around the corner at with hopeful eyes, he was even shirtless in hopes you’d cave.

“I’m busy, Sunoo.”, you’d retort, back turned.

When that didn’t work, he tried again later, finding you in the living room, sprawled out on the couch.

With more enthusiasm in his voice, he smiled.

“(Y/n), there’s a new drama we should watch together!”

“Hm…”, you sighed, rolling over onto your belly and closing your eyes.

Seeing you still didn’t budge, he finally sighed, coming over to where you laid, kicking your foot gently.

“Mm, you’re still mad?”, he pouted before kneeling down beside you.

“You aren’t still mad at me, are you?”

When you sat up and glared at him, he grinned.

Without waiting for an answer, he started kissing your cheeks, then your forehead, moving across your face with soft, playful pecks until you couldn’t help but smile and give in.

JUNGWON

After your blow-up, Jungwon quietly stepped out, giving you the space he knew you needed.

He didn’t hover, knowing that pushing to fix things right away would only make things worse.

So, he left for a bit, letting you sit with your thoughts.

When he returned, the soft sound of the door closing made you glance up, and there he was—carrying a small bouquet of flowers and a box of your favorite sweets.

Without a word, he sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb you too much.

You just stared, biting your lip gently.

He placed the flowers next to you, his gaze soft as he waited for you to speak first.

"See the flowers?" he asked gently, his voice warm and patient.

You nodded, reaching out to touch the velvety petals carefully, your eyes growing glossy.

"You like them?", he added, cat-like gaze wide and in search of approval.

You looked between him and the bouquet, the tension between you two starting to ease just a little.

Jungwon shifted closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know you didn’t mean everything you said,” he whispered, his thumb softly tracing your cheek.

“I didn’t…” you shook your head.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, his voice quiet, almost tentative, like he was asking for permission to step back into your heart.

“Please…?”

NI-KI

When you and Ni-ki fought, especially over something as petty as this, he never felt the need to avoid you.

Instead, he did what he did best—get on your nerves.

The first time you stormed past him, your hips swaying with frustration, he didn’t hesitate. His hand playfully slapped your butt, a cheeky grin spreading across his face when you whipped around to glare at him, completely unamused.

He just shrugged, his smile only growing wider.

When that didn’t break your mood, he upped his game, messing with your things. While you were in the shower, he snuck in and swiped your towel, leaving you to yell after him.

But the final straw came later, as you sat on the bed, getting ready to turn in for the night.

Just when you thought he’d given up, Ni-ki tackled you.

Full-on WWE-style, his arms wrapped around you in a headlock as you both tumbled across the sheets.

“Ni-ki! Get off of me!” you barked, but the laughter in your voice was clear.

He held on tighter, laughing into your ear.

“But you’re so sexy when you’re mad!” he teased, making it impossible for you to stay annoyed any longer as you dissolved into giggles beneath him.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

bodyguard

words: 2.1k

warnings: bodyguard!rafe, pop star!reader, gun mention, attempted kidnapping, brief violence, fluffy

you take a deep breath, clenching the microphone in your first. no matter how many times you perform, you still feel a rush of anxiety.

it all disappears when you step out onto the stage. you give the crowd a wave as the cheers erupt. you look around the packed stadium, reminiscing on what it was like to play smaller venues until your hit single and big break.

your in ear piece begins the countdown to your music as you lean down to reach out to a couple fans in the front row, looking past your personal bodyguard who insists on being in front of the stage despite the venue providing security.

you begin to sing the first song of your set, turning your attention to the entire crowd as your backup dancers come out, flooding the stage.

the show goes by so quickly you almost miss the feeling as you step behind the curtain, despite the exhaustion creeping into your bones.

“here.” your bodyguard hands you a water bottle, a straw already pushed inside, knowing you prefer it over drinking straight from the rim.

“what would i do without you rafe.” you chuckle. he was the first bodyguard you ever hired, having had your ass slapped one night and deciding you needed someone to watch your back.

“probably be kidnapped.” rafe shrugs, making you roll your eyes, used to the playful back and forth banter.

“and if it weren't for me, you'd still be in north carolina.”

“perk of the job.” rafe says, referencing the three continents you've visited with him in tow, soon to announce a world tour that will visit all major cities with enough time in between to actually enjoy the traveling.

“dressing room or straight to the bus?” rafe asks, following you as you begin to walk, stepping past the stagehands rushing to disassemble the set and get it on the move.

“dressing room. left my crocs in there.” it's routine, rafe entering the dressing room and doing a sweep before letting you in, even if it's just to grab your shoes and leave.

“wait, gonna change them before we go to the bus.” you tell rafe, the arches of your feet hurting from dancing in heels. rafe gives you his arm to hold as you bend down to undo the straps before slipping out of the glittery stilletos and into your comfortable, well worn, crocs.

rafe peeks out the back door. “there's some fans by the fence. we going right to the bus or stopping to sign?”

“stopping to sign.” you know it's not possible to show your appreciation to every single fan, but you're certainly going to try your best to greet every person who helped you become the pop sensation you are.

rafe pulls two sharpies out of his pocket, one black and one silver and hands them to you before swinging the door open.

the mini crowd erupts into screams as soon as they see you. you're sure these must be fans who didn't get a chance to attend as there's no way they could have cleared from the venue this quickly.

“hey everyone!” you wave as you walk to the chain link fence, knowing rafe is right at your back, just in case anyone gets handy. it wouldn't be the first time an excited fan reached through an opening and refused to let go of your wrist.

you begin to sign everything offered to you, even seeing a fan who brought your original ep you used to send to record labels.

“can i get a picture?”

“of course!” you smile, taking the phone that is passed through the slot and snapping a selfie with the happy fan.

you continue down the line, about halfway through when you shiver, the adrenaline wearing off and the cold of the night air seeping into your bones, especially since you're still in your stage outfit which doesn't give you much coverage.

you should have known rafes eagle eye would see, because he's soon shrugging off his jacket and placing it over your shoulders, of course the crowd awwing. 

rafe has gotten quite a bit of attention as your bodyguard, considering he follows you practically everywhere, he's photographed by fans constantly.

you were worried at first when you continued to skyrocket in fame that rafe would become uncomfortable or overwhelmed and you'd have to find someone new that you felt comfortable with, but hes stuck by your side the whole time.

“okay, sorry guys i gotta go!” you wave to everyone, having signed or taken a picture with everyone who gathered by the back exit fence.

you quickly rush to the tour bus, the corset of your outfit beginning to press in uncomfortably.

you don't have to use your words to tell rafe what you're about to do. as soon as he does a sweep through the bus, having you wait in the front next to the drivers seat so you could run out at any minute, you head to the back and take a shower, washing away your makeup and the pounds of hairspray added to your bangs.

you get changed into pajamas, knowing you're scheduled to hit the road tonight. it probably would be easier to fly private, or even just buy a jet, but you like the tour life of driving around and try to be environmentally conscious where you can.

you head back into the common area, rafe sitting in his usual spot on the couch, his gun that usually remains holstered to his hip now sitting on the counter. 

it scared you the first time you saw it. you knew you hired an armed bodyguard, but to have a gun just sitting there was not something you were used to.

“here.” rafe grabs a bag from the counter you didn't even notice.

“you got me fries?” you ask excitedly, taking the bag and quickly pulling a fry out, letting out a low moan when you take a bite and realize it's still hot.

“ill add personal assistant to my resume.” rafe smirks.

“resume? you leaving me?” you laugh, plopping down on the couch next to rafe. 

“never.” he vows. when rafe originally began to work in security, it was a way to get away from his dad, to have an excuse to leave at night, and now he can never imagine going back home to the life he once lived.

conversation shifts to upcoming plans as you finish off your fries and let out a yawn.

“alright, bed time.” you stand up and stretch, eyes closing as your back elongates. you completely miss the way rafe has to readjust his pants.

“goodnight.” rafe says as you give him a wave and head back into the bedroom, closing the door for some privacy as you flop onto the bed and delve beneath the covers, falling asleep easily knowing you're protected.

--

“aw, yes!” you hiss, looking out the window as the bus pulls into the rest stop. “back in the midwest baby, you know what that means.”

“what?” rafe questions, joining you to look out the window. he's dressed casually and not in all black like usual when he's working since today is just travel, and the light blue shirt he's wearing is making your heartbeat a little faster, even if you try to ignore it.

“tim hortons!” you exclaim. “we've got to get their sour cream glazed timbits. they're like crack.”

“and what would you know about crack?” rafe scoffs.

“alright, just because i didn't have a bad boy past like you doesn't mean-” you're cut off by rafe laughing. “okay, okay.” you hold your hands up. “i don't even know what it looks like.”

“that's what i thought.” rafe places a hand on your back as the bus comes to a stop. “now come on, let's get your timbits or whatever you said.”

you head out so happy and in such a rush that rafe doesn't remember to grab his gun, figuring nothing could happen at a rest stop early in the morning with practically no one around.

“hi!” you smile at the worker as you enter the building. she seems to half recognize you but doubt herself. “can we get a 10 pack of sour cream glazed timbits and another 10 pack that's a mix of the other flavors?”

the worker nods and begins putting it in the system as you turn to look at rafe. “just in case you don't like the same as me.”

“okay.” rafe laughs, stepping a bit closer to you as you pull your card out and pay.

you step to the side to wait, watching with excitement as the timbits are scooped in.

“thank you so much!” you take both of the cardboard containers and follow rafe back outside. the morning sun is shining brightly, causing you both to squint.

rafe turns quickly when a van suddenly squeels to a stop right behind you.

he watches in horror as the door swings open, his long stride causing him to be too far away to immediately grab you as he takes off into a sprint.

you feel the hands around your waist before you even contemplate what is happening. you scream out, looking to rafe and seeing the worry in his face as you're being pulled backwards into the back of the van.

“rafe! rafe!” you squeal, kicking your legs and trying to hit your attacker, throwing the box over your shoulder to try and get him to stop, but you're overpowered.

the man is just about to slam the door shut, trapping you in there with the stranger when rafes hand stops the metal and shoves it back open, his bicep rippling with strength.

“duck.” is all rafe says, but you understand instantly, trying to get as low as possible as his first surges forward, connecting the attackers face before pulling back and continuing to punch until his grip on you loosens.

rafe grabs you instead, and you move quickly, pressing yourself against his body, molding yourself against him as your arms and legs wrap around his torso. 

as soon as you're out, the van speeds away, knowing they've lost their one chance to get you. rafe moves quickly, running back towards the tour bus with you gripping onto him tightly.

you manage to hold in your tears until you're shut inside the safety of the bus. when the crying comes, it comes hard in sobs that make rafes chest physically hurt.

“i got you.” rafe sits down on the couch, keeping you in his lap as he tries to comfort you, hand rubbing up and down your back. “i got you baby.”

you cries are so loud rafe isn't sure you can hear him, especially when you start to hyperventilate.

“hey.” rafe takes your face in his hands, seeing the fear in your eyes as you struggle to actually take it any air. “take a breath for me, you're gonna pass out.”

you try, you really do, but you can't control your body as you continue to hyperventilate. rafe doesn't know what to do, he needs some sort of distraction or way to make you stop.

his face surges forward, his body working before his mind does as his lips press against yours, pressing a smashing kiss against your mouth.

you stop instantly, mind settling as your lips move against his, upset when you have to pull away to take in a gulping breath of fresh oxygen.

“it's okay.” rafes thumbs smooth over your cheeks. a mutual understanding comes over you both. this was bound to happen, and you don't need words to talk about what your relationship just became. “i got you. i got you.”

you nod, breathing deeply, finally able to control your body as you inhale and exhale until your lungs are full enough to lean forward and kiss rafe again. he doesn't hesitate for even a second before kissing back, his arms moving to wrap around you, pressing you further into him to deepen the kiss, only pulling away when the door shuts, your driver back in her spot.

“you okay?” rafe asks, his voice soft as he looks at you.

“i think after some more kisses i will be.” you giggle, cheeks blushing.

“and some timbits?”

“oh my god, those fuckers have them!” you gasp, your eyebrows scrunching together, making rafe laugh.

he presses a kiss against your lips, barely able to stop smiling to do so. “are you more mad they tried to take you or more mad they successfully took your donuts?”

you roll your eyes. “the timbits, duh.”

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry @wearemadeofstardust0

[lvstrucks]

breaks

lando norris x reader

Being a couple both of whose love languages were physical touch, you and Lando were no strangers to a bit of playfighting. Lando loved nothing more than to tackle you onto the soft surface of a sofa or bed and watch you squirm playfully, collapsing into a fit of giggles as you tried to take control of his strong form and make him do what you wanted. It was perhaps the only time Lando would allow his competitive side to slide, letting you pin him down and sit on his toned stomach in victory.

So it was nothing out of the ordinary when he leaned against the doorframe, watching you pad around the kitchen making dinner in one of his Quadrant t-shirts he felt a familiar burst of love begin to creep up his abdomen. It was a quiet Friday night before the Monaco Grand Prix, the both of you enjoying the comfort of being in your own apartment before what was sure to be a hectic weekend.

As soon as you put down the wooden spoon you'd been using to stir the dinner, he makes a beeline for you.

"Lovie," he half mumbles, half laughs into your shoulder as he scoops you off the floor.

"Lando!" you giggle, making a feeble attempt to shrug him off. "Stop, I'm making dinner," you protest, while really having no intention of making him stop.

Lando twists you around so he's holding you horizontally, gripping onto your waist and starts to spin you around so you can't reach to push him off.

"You just look so cuddly and cute dressed like that," he defends, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Just wanna love my girl a little."

You both shriek with laughter as he begins to spin you even faster. Lando's certain that hearing you laugh like that because of him is one of the best feelings he's ever had. He feels like he might be flying a little, until your left arm flicks out with the force of being spun and the sound of a crack against the marble counter stops him in his tracks.

"Baby?" He asks uncertainly as he sets you gently on your feet.

"Ow." you blink back tears. "That hurt. But I'm fi-"

You cut yourself off as your hearing becomes muffled.

"Lan, I can't..." you put both hands up to your ears, pressing as if to try and restore your hearing. It comes flooding back, along with a throbbing pain in your wrist as it pushes against your head.

"Fuck, baby. Fuck!" Lando says, snapping into action. Not only is his girlfriend clearly hurt, she got hurt under his care, and it was his fault too.

He grabs a bag of frozen peas from the freezer, pulling you gently over to a chair at the dining table and sitting you down. He hands you the bag of peas, gesturing for you to rest your hurt hand on it.

"Did it...always bend that way?" He asks quietly, face going pale as you both assess the situation. The tears begin to fall as the full brunt of the pain begins to hit and Lando is quick to lead you downstairs, getting you buckled into his car and running around to the driver's seat. 

It takes a little while longer than normal to get to the emergency room, as lots of roads have been closed off in preparation for qualifying tomorrow, and Lando drums his fingers impatiently on the wheel.

"Not long, baby. We're gonna get you some help, and they can give you something to help the pain, ok? I'm right here with you." He tries to reassure you.

Good as his word, Lando doesn't leave your side once. He holds your hand whilst they set your fractured wrist back into place, gritting his teeth and keeping quiet as your nails dig into the calloused skin of his hands. He rubs your back softly as they wrap a pink (as requested) cast around.

You sleep on the way home, suddenly exhausted now the pain meds have kicked in. Lando watches you quietly each time he stops at a red light. He feels sick to his stomach as the red glare catches the streaks of dried tears on your cheeks.

Once back in your apartment, Lando carries you bridal style up to the bedroom. He undresses you quickly, taking care not to bump your wrist as he pulls one of his shirts over your head, one of the softer ones that you love to sleep in.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles into your hair as he wraps himself around you. "I'm so, so, sorry."

You shake your head softly, waking up a little.

"I know you are, Lando. It was an accident."

"But I promised I'd never do anything to hurt you, and I broke it. I broke you." He frets.

You lean up and press a kiss to his pouty lips.

"It was an accident, both of us were being silly. I'm not upset at you, just upset it happened. So please don't beat yourself up about it, okay?" you say and Lando nods solemnly, snuggling down so your head is laying on his chest. He strokes your hair softly and you breathe in his scent, closing your eyes.

"Does it hurt? A lot?" Lando asks quietly into the darkness.

"No." you lie.

Although you'd assured Lando you were fine in the morning, ready to come and support him during qualifying, you were quickly deteriorating as the day dragged on. You found yourself sinking into a cushioned seat in the McLaren hospitality, beginning to shiver as the ache from your wrist travels up your arm. Lando is busy preparing for qualifying, but Adam is talking to an engineer and notices his son's girlfriend fading into herself and walks over to check on you.

"Everything ok?," he questions you. "Should I get Lando for you? He gave strict orders to interrupt him at any time if you weren't feeling well."

"I just need my next painkillers, I think." you say, trying to smile in a way you hope is reassuring. "Do you know where they ended up? I didn't bring a bag so Lando had them in his pocket when we arrived."

Adam tells you he will go and hunt down your meds, but unsurprisingly Lando spots his dad looking around and excuses himself from talking to Zak in the garage and jogs over to the hospitality.

"Baby, are you OK?" He asks, wrapping you in a gentle hug. You sigh, sinking into his chest and allowing him to hold you up.

"It's just..it's really starting to hurt now." you say, and his heart sinks at the sight of your bottom lip beginning to wobble.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he says truthfully. "Do you want to go home and take a nap there? I can get someone to drive you now."

You shake your head stubbornly.

"I want to stay and see how you qualify. I just need some pain meds."

"They're in my driver's room with my clothes." He explains. "Do you want to come with me? I have that fold-down bed in there now, you can have a quick nap?"

You nod, allowing him to lead you into his room. Once there, he hands you your meds and then slips his comfy cable-knit sweater over your head to stop your shivering. He does his best to tuck you in all comfy, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I'll come and wake you up in about an hour or so, ok?"

As he shuts the door behind him, he hears a soft "Thank you, Lan." He blows you a kiss, heading back to the garage.

When Lando comes back to wake you up, he's met with a much happier looking Y/N. You sit up on the bed, kissing his cheek and stretching.

"Do you have a pen anywhere? Or do you know where I can find one?" You ask.

Lando frowns, but gestures that he'll be one minute as he slips into Oscar's driver’s room for a second, returning with a Sharpie and handing it to you.

"What's it for?" He asks. "Are you going to vandalize McLaren to get me back?"

You giggle, standing up from the bed.

"I'm heading over to Red Bull," you explain, as if that would make any sense to Lando. "I'm going to see if I can get Max Verstappen to sign my cast. Ooh, and maybe I'll look for Charles too after."

"What?!" Lando splutters. He can't believe his ears. "You want Max and Charles to sign your cast before your own boyfriend? I know they were your favorites before we met, but have I made no progress?"

You laugh, flopping into him and leaning against his legs.

"It's because I don't want to exploit you, baby. I'm going to enjoy their signatures and then maybe sell the cast on eBay once it's off."

Lando bursts out laughing at your explanation, eyes squeezing shut as he holds you tight.

"My little businesswoman. Can I please be the first to sign it?" He asks.

You hand him the Sharpie, holding out your wrist to him. He takes it ever so gently and his tongue peeks out his mouth as he concentrates.

Twisting your arm around to read it, you grin as Lando looks proud of his work. Instead of signing as he would sign a hat or shirt for a fan, he's simply printed his name, followed by a collection of kisses and one wonky love heart. He lightly kisses your exposed fingers, then pats you cheekily on the bum as you pass him.

"Go get your signatures, baby."

thank you for reading! feedback is always appreciated <3

[serafilms]

the golden quartet

art donaldson x reader, slight tashi duncan x reader, slight patrick zweig x reader, wc: 2k

author’s note: basically just a way less toxic (?) version of the movie with the reader inserted. they’re all still incredibly codependent and tashi/reader are very much in love and art/patrick are very much in love and art/tashi have their own kind of friendship/relationship and so do patrick/reader, but really patrick and tashi are one couple, art and reader are another couple, but like they would all live together and probably sleep in the same bed hypothetically. but in a healthy way. i like to imagine a world where they’re all codependent but skip all the “villain” allegations in their mess, and it’s just a beautiful unspoken symphony of love and four-way fidelity and infidelity. will probably write more in this universe.

part two here

“Tashi, stop it.”

Tashi stops and her eyes lock in on you, racket dropping to her side. “Stop what?”

You watch the way she bounces the ball a few times and don’t miss the way her gaze keeps flitting to your hand.

“Stop analysing me.”

She lifts a shoulder in a shrug, and doesn’t break your gaze. “It’s my job to analyse the opponent so I know how to win the game.”

“Yeah, but you’re not looking at me like an opponent.” Your lips purse. “You’re looking at me like you’re trying to calculate how to get me back on the court.”

“You’re on the court right now, aren’t you?”

“You know what I mean, Tashi.” Your racket falls to the court exasperatedly and you manage a step towards the net. “It’s over for me, I’m done playing tennis and I’m okay with that, but I’m not sure that you are.”

There’s just a tiny quiver in her eyes before her gaze steels itself again and she nods. “Fine. I get it.”

She tosses you the ball. “Just help me train.”

You watch as Tashi gets into position, and pick up your racket slowly. Maybe you shouldn’t have snapped at her. You so rarely do, but you’ve closed the door on that chapter of your life now, and you’re sick of her trying to pry it open. You don’t want possibilities of what you could have had. You don’t want to put in more years just to watch yourself fail at something you never really liked in the first place.

There’s a dull ache in your chest as you serve the ball.

Tashi Duncan has been your best friend for five years. For the life of you, you can’t remember the details of the tournament you were at, but you had a game against her. It was electrifying. You’d never played tennis like that before. It felt like you’d never known what it was like to breathe before Tashi Duncan. She basically crushed you, but you managed to get in a good few points, had the audience and line judges on the edge of their seats, and at the end of it, when you shook her hand, you felt like you’d just discovered a missing limb.

She found you afterwards in the stands and sat with you to spectate the next few matches. And hadn’t let you go since. You couldn’t imagine a life without Tashi. She was there for your first boyfriend, she was there when you broke up with him, she was there when you failed a class and your parents threatened to pull you out of tennis, and she was there when your wrist shattered and you quit.

Tashi never really understood why it was so easy for you to walk away. “You’re one of the best,” “You have so much potential,” “You can learn to play with your other hand.”

She never seemed to hear you when you said you didn’t want to play anymore. She’d look at you, with her piercing gaze then look away and move on. But the conversation was never over. It was like you didn’t exist to her without tennis, like it was your one achievement, and she couldn’t gauge who you were without it.

You suppose you were flattered, touched even, that she cared so much about you, in her own weird way.

Tashi looks at you questioningly when you lower your racket. You smile, “You should rest up. Your drills are perfect. You’re gonna crush her tomorrow.”

She takes a look at her watch, then nods. You can tell she wants to stay longer, but there’s really no reason to. Especially when you can feel her itching for a real match. That you can’t give her.

You bump her shoulder as the two of you walk out. “Wanna grab some donuts?”

The unimpressed face she gives you makes you laugh. “Come on, we can get you one of those healthy ones. The gluten-free, vegan bullshit.”

“Sounds delicious,” she drawls, but makes no further comments. You grin. A success.

She says nothing as you swing your borderline crippled arm over her shoulder, but you feel her muscles underneath relax just a little bit.

The following day brings a new round of pretentious young assholes on the court. Some of them eye you up as you make your way into the bleachers, whispering to each other. A girl comes up to you and asks for a picture. You’re a little surprised, and feel a little blindsided, but you suppose it’s only been a year since your injury. And well, considering where you are right now, it sure does seem to the rest of the world like you’re not fully done with tennis.

“Yeah, no problem,” you say with a smile.

The girl takes the picture, thanks you profusely then leaves, and you make your way up to the bleachers, and find a nice spot in the middle. Tashi liked you to be right in the middle of the game so you could watch her and her opponent. You wonder if she’s secretly preparing you to become an umpire.

There’s a flurry of whispers all too close to you, and then there’s a shadow blocking the sun to your left.

Two boys stand facing you, staring at you with their mouths slightly agape. You can’t help the amused smile that splits your face.

“Can I help you?”

The brunet snaps back into reality first. “Sorry, we were just— are you Y/N L/N?”

“Yeah, I am,” you say, eyes flitting between the two. They’re cute. Really cute.

The blond shakes his head slightly, like he’s coming out of a trance, and says, “Sorry, this is just the first time we’ve seen or heard about you since….you know.”

He winces, and his head ducks a little like a scolded puppy. “Sorry to hear about that, by the way.”

You let out a laugh that seems to catch his attention again. His friend jabs him in the side with his elbow. “Oh, don’t worry about it, seriously. It’s been a year, I’m over it.”

“Huh,” he says, nodding a little absently. He glances to the brunet, who’s just grinning at him. “Um, by the way, we’re—“

“Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig, right?”

The blond, Art, looks a little speechless.

Patrick chimes in. “Yeah, that’s us.”

“I watched your game just before. That was quite some victory celebration.”

The way Art’s ears turn red makes you happier than you’d like to admit. There’s a little flip in your stomach as he fumbles, “Yeah, well…”

There’s a flurry of movement as Patrick puts his arm around Art’s neck and pulls him impossibly close in a one armed hug. “Social conduct’s not gonna get in the way of me celebrating with my boy.”

The blond leans away and fights to get Patrick off him, and you smile as you watch. “Don’t worry, it was cute. Plus, I get it. We’re sort of the same way sometimes when it comes to victories. I mean, not the same, but you know.”

That seems to catch Patrick’s attention. “By we, do you mean you and—“

“Tashi Duncan!”

The announcement rings loud and clear through the speakers as she walks onto the court.

It’s almost comical the way Patrick’s jaw goes slack and he slumps onto the seat behind him.

You watch as Tashi waves at her screaming fans, shoots her winning smiles and makes her way to her side. She catches your gaze for a moment and you nod. She looks away and begins to stretch, but you’re not bothered. She knows you’re here, and that’s all you need. Can’t try and take Tashi Duncan out of the zone.

As you sit down, you’re a little surprised to find Art mirroring the action, still looking at you. “So, you’re best friends with Tashi Duncan?”

You nod. “Since we were like, thirteen.”

“Oh wow,” his eyes widen and you can’t help but think how impossibly cute he looks, “that’s almost how long Patrick and I have been friends.”

“Really? Oh, wow.” There’s a beat of silence, just long enough for you to catch each other’s eye and look away with awkward giggles.

Luckily, that’s when the match starts. And your focus locks in.

“COME ON!” Tashi’s scream is palpable in the air.

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. You’ve heard it a million times before, but it never fails to strike you.

There’s something akin to awe in Patrick’s eyes. Art looks like he’s in disbelief.

You can’t help but agree with their faces.

“So, are you guys coming to the party tonight?”

Patrick’s eyes flit away from Tashi’s to look at you. “Yeah, we were just talking about earlier. Art was saying how excited he was. He just loves parties.”

You can’t quite decipher the smirk on his face, but he looks like the kind of guy who’s never up to any good, so you turn to Art expectantly.

His eyes meet yours and your stomach does another little flip as he says, “Yeah, I’ll— we’ll be there.”

“Cool,” you reply. “I’ll see you guys later, then.”

You manage one quick glance back as you walk away, and see Patrick grinning and shaking Art’s shoulders. A smile plays at the corner of your lips and you leave.

Tashi finds you at your agreed-upon meeting spot, and wastes no time in grabbing your hand. “Come on.”

“Don’t you need to take pictures with your trophy?”

“Got a few, they’ll take more at the Adidas party. We’ve got to get ready.”

There’s a warm feeling like sunlight dancing in your chest as you let her drag you away.

The party is in full swing by the time you finally spot Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig lurking in the corner of the yard.

You’d just stepped off the dance floor for a moment, telling Tashi you were going to get another drink. The two boys seem to be arguing about something, but as you close the distance, you can see that they’re grinning too.

“Hey,” you greet the two. Their heads turn towards you in unison and they both stand up straight.

“Hi,” they chorus.

You take a sip of your drink as your eyes flit between the two. “So….what are you guys doing all the way over here?”

“You know,” Art says dryly. “Just enjoying the ambience.”

(Cute and funny. Man, you’re screwed).

“It’s a lot less creepy if you actually talk to her instead of just staring at her.” Your words are directed at Patrick, whose eyebrows shoot up. A smirk falls on his face. His charm instantly covers up the awkwardness.

Art barks out a laugh. (It’s a sound you wish you could inscribe in your mind).

“What makes you think I’m here for her?” Patrick smirks, looking you up and down. It’s so clearly a deflection, but it feels so natural that you can’t help but smile, and you feel your cheeks warm just a tad.

You glance back at the dance floor, and see Tashi excuse herself, glancing at you as she goes for her drink. You reach over to pat him on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll help you out.”

As you turn on your heel and walk towards Tashi, you hear a slap behind you and an, “Ow!”

“Tashi!” The smile in your voice is audible as she looks up.

“Hey,” she smiles back.

Then, her head tilts to the side and she looks at the boys. “Hi.”

“Hi,” they both say.

There’s a quiet moment in which you all exchange looks, a twinkle in each of your eyes. You can almost feel a spark of something in the air, and suddenly you’re thirteen years old again, meeting Tashi for the first time. Like another puzzle piece has finally fallen into place.

You feel your chest warm. If only you knew what your life was about to become.

[evie-sturns]

Attitude - Matt Sturniolo

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summary: matt comes to pick you up for a late night drive, but you show up with an attitude.

contains: highway sex/angry sex, swearing, arguing, dom/rough matt, mentions of an eating disorder.

all consensual!!!

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"I'm outside baby, you ready?" matt texts and i sigh. putting my phone in my pocket, and opening the front door.

the cold breeze of the night hits my face and a shiver runs through my body, i approach matts black van, illuminated by the street light shining down on it. matts inside, his face lit by his phone screen and i open the door to the passenger side, and climb inside with a huff.

"hey! you alright?" matt says smiling at me. "yeah im fine?" i say blankly and his smile drops slightly. he starts up the car and drives down the street. the awkward slience grows as matt approaches a red light. he sighs slightly "so what did you get up to today?" matt says breaking the silence and i ignore him. "y/n?" he says again louder.

"what!?" i say back angrily loudly and he rubs his eyes. "look do you want me to take you home, you seem a little bit tired." matt says calmly trying to keep himself contained. "no its fine?" i say quietly and crossing my arms.

he keeps driving along the highway, we haven't said a word to eachother in 15 minutes. suddenly matt pulls over on the side of the road and looks at me, sighing loudly. "y/n look, youve said 3 words this whole time, if your gonna keep acting like this i'm taking you home, i was really fucking excited about spending time with you but you clearly are not feeling the same." he says through gritted teeth as he looks away.

"yeah maybe i dont wanna be here! ive been so fucking tired this week and i quite frankly would rather be asleep. so take me home!" i snap back and matt stays silent, turning the car back on and turning it around. "waste of time." i hear matt mutter under his breath and breathe in shakily, dont cry dont cry. "just pull over for fucks sake!" i say on the verge of tears. "yeah now you want to talk to me?" matt growls as he slams the breaks on and pulls over. "you shouldntve snaped at me matt." i say quietly. "i snapped at you?" matt scoffs "ive been nice this whole time, and youve been huffing in the passenger seat the whole. fucking. time." matt says in disbelief.

"your such a fucking asshole, just accept im fucking tired for once, oh wait nevermind, you cant relate because your life is literally perfect." matts breath hitches in his throat "get in the back." he says loudly. i stay perfectly still. "now." matt says again and i stay still. he gets out of the car onto the highway and walks around the car to my door and opens it quickly, picking me up aggressively.

he places me on the grass next to the car, nobody on the highway can see us since are covered by the van.

my stomach flips as i feel a familiar heat grow between my legs. he kneels down behind me and reaches a hand on my lower back, forcing me to arch.

he rips my shorts down and scoffs "no panties and fucking soaked, pathetic." he says amused as he tugs my shirt over my head. "honestly pathetic." he says again before slapping my pussy causing me to yelp.

he yanks down his sweatpants as i'm on display for him on all fours, my back is arched patiently waiting. "please" i whine and he instantly slaps my ass "dont talk." he replies instantly before lining himself up with my leaking hole. he slams his whole cock into me causing me to scream and try to reach behind me and push him, instead he grabs both my wrists and hold them behind my back.

his thrusts instantly start, giving me no time to adjust to his 7 inches. he slams into me, pulling both of my wrists, causing me to arch my back even more, i scream and he quickens his pace "shut the fuck up." he growls as he goes faster. without warning i clench around his cock and orgasm, causing him to slip out and he instantly realeses his grip on my wrists, causing me to fall face first into the grass, humiliating me. i roll over onto my back and he slams himself back into me before i even have time to adjust my position.

tears are pouring out of my eye from how sensitive i am. "fuckk.." he growls as he twitches inside of me and instantly cums inside of me, thrusting a few more times, pushing it deep inside of me. before pulling out and collapsing on the grass beside me.

we lay in the cold night air for 10 minutes before he sits up, breaking the silence. "are you okay.. im sorry." he says shakily before standing up and picking me up. "i-..uh.." i stammer, still processing what just happened. he opens the door to the backseat and places me down, he quickly puts on his jeans and joins me in the backseat. "i got you my shirt, i assumed you wouldn't want to get changed into all your clothes so i have these aswell.." he pulls some panties out of his pocket "from uh.. last time." his cheeks go red and i laugh slightly "thank you baby." i say sliding on my panties and his t-shirt. he man spreads in the backseat, pulling me onto his lap.

"do you wanna talk about it.. ya know.. the argument" he says and i nod "well um i just.." i pause then continue "first of all im really sorry, i know you're tired too, and you honestly have a much harder life than me, ive just had a bad week, i dont wanna get into it but my uh, my eating got alot worse, ive found it hard to."

(30 minutes later)

after crying into matts chest for several minutes he took me to his home and fed me everything in his pantry, then cuddled with me in bed.

"are you feeling better? um, im sorry i went so rough earlier." matt says embarrassed, covering his face with his hands.

"aside from me not being able to walk up your stairs now, im fine."

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ik i didnt color code the speech but i honestly couldnt be bothered whatsoever!!!!!

anyways hope yall liked, also request shit for me to write in my inbox

[lyxandria]

nsfw - mdni, jealous sex. rough sex, against a wall, no protection used, breeding kink, degradation, overstimulation, choking, afab reader, semi-public sex

jealous!zhongli drags you out in hallway during the party, his long fingers encircling your wrist in a firm grip. what are you doing? you ask, rubbing your wrist, the pain a throbbing, dull ache.

jealous!zhongli kisses you roughly, his hands roaming down your body. you don't like this? he asks, his breath hot on your face before covering your mouth with his in a deep kiss, pushing his hips against yours, the outline of his cock stiff and erect.

jealous!zhongli spins you in his arms, pressing your chest against the cold wall. your breath hitching as he lifts the hem of your dress, the air cool against your bare, exposed skin. i should punish you for this alone. did you forget your panties at home? he smacks your ass, a large, pink handprint left as a souvenir, stinging your skin sans underwear. you like that, huh. such a naughty girl. you could have given any guy here a beautiful view if you bent at just the right angle, he said, giving your other ass cheek a hard stinging slap. 

jealous!zhongli wraps his fingers around the column of your neck, gently squeezing your throat. what do you think your punishment should be? your heart pounds in your chest, your mouth feels dry; you don't want to admit to yourself just how turned on you are by his words and actions.

jealous!zhongli slides his fingers between your legs. what if we're seen? your tight walls clench at nothingness, your body trembling with excitement at the prospect of being caught  in such a compromising position. you shouldn't have spoken to other men then. i was there. was i not enough to keep you company?

jealous!zhongli rubs his tip along your slit, not waiting for an answer from you, coating his length with your sweet nectar. sliding his shaft inside you, he slowly stretches you as he fills you with his thich length. “you're not wearing a…” 

jealous!zhongli lets out a snort of laughter. a condom? hmm…. do you wish I was wearing on? he stills his movements, enjoying watching you squirm on his thick cock knowing that you won't say no to him. he continues to tease you mercilessly, slowly dragging his cock all the way out and slamming back in. gonna fuck a baby in you tonight. he pressed hand on your belly, your core flooding with heat by his touch, his tone smug and boastful. need everyone who sees you, with your belly round and swollen, to know that you are mine. hands off.

jealous!zhongli fastens his mouth to the soft slope of your shoulder, leaving a trail of biting kisses in his wake, marking you as his. rapture rolls through your body as he drills his cock into you, deeper and deeper with each rough stroke. your mouth opens, wanting to moan, his cock splitting your body in two,  but no sounds come out.

jealous!zhongli wipes the tears rolling down your cheek with the pad of his thumb. what's wrong. you don't wanna get caught? please moan and cry as loud as you like, i beg you. let everyone at the party come and see who you belong to.

jealous!zhongli pounds your pussy so hard, it's impossible to stay quiet. you begged, you pleaded, you cried as you chase a climax just barely out of your reach. please. its too much…

jealous!zhongli shows no signs of stopping. you can take it, he says, roughly slamming his hips against yours. i know you like it rough. he slides his hand between your legs, twisting and teasing your clit, until your climax is in your grasp. you scream with pleasure as the first orgasm hit you, 

jealous!zhongli smiles a wicked smile as your cunt squeezes his cock, creaming all over him, covering him in your juices. what a naughty girl you are, cumming all over my cock where anyone can see you. his fingers dig into your hips, his nails breaking the delicate skin, pulling you towards him with every snap of his hips, his balls smacking your ass loudly.  i knew you'd get off on this.

jealous!zhongli glides his hand up your torso, resting where he feels the tip of his cock bulging through your insides. does it thrill you to know that  i’m this deep inside you? your walls squeeze his hard cock, needing him to fuck you stupid again. i'll let you cum a few more times, he promises, but when I blow my big load, there will be a baby in you. 

[cilliansmesoftly]

talk too much

pairing: glen powell x fem!reader

summary: you’re glen’s makeup artist for twisters and he won’t stop talking

warning: based on that one tiktok of glen getting his makeup done for hit man and his mouth is nonstop moving, kissing, glen being a professional yapper

ੈ✩‧₊˚ working with glen was seriously a dream. he was kind, smart, funny, hard-working. he was everything a man should be and you loved being his makeup artist.

the only downside was his lack of understanding when to shut the hell up.

you loved his stories, you loved hearing about his life, but when you’re trying to perfect his skin prep and makeup, it’s a little difficult to focus when all glen can do is distract you.

“oh, y/n,” glen groaned in disgust turning his head away and wiping at his lip. “you got primer in my mouth.”

and what you wanted to say was, “then shut your damn mouth while my hands are near your lips.” but you didn’t, you just quietly apologized and got back to work. he had to be on set in twenty minutes and you were no where near being done because of glen and his indestructible vocal cords. you and him got into a lot of trouble on set for being late to shoots, but what could you do? tell your boss to be quiet and risk being fired? absolutely not, so you just kept quiet and tried to get his makeup done quickly and as best as you could.

glen was talking away about this dog he wanted to get and you were listening, truly you were, but you were also color correcting the slight bags under his eyes and a few blemishes near his chin. suddenly, glen laughed at something and you smudged concealer all on his bottom lip and down his chin.

“shit!” you cursed, getting a makeup wipe from your desk and carefully wiping away the mess on his face.

“it’s okay.” he said carefully, grabbing the wipe from your hand to wipe it away himself so you could take a break. “you don’t have to rush, y/n.”

“yes i do, you only have,” you checked the small watch on your wrist. “13 minutes until you have to be on set and i haven’t even blended your concealer yet. they’re gonna get rid of me, i just know it.”

“it’s kind of hard for them to get rid of you when you’re my personal makeup artist.” he cockily reminded you. you scowled at his smirking face and took the wipe from his hand. your index finger and thumb held his chin while you gently swiped his bottom lip. glen started to talk again and you sighed in frustration as you had to concentrate even harder to not get the wipe into his moving mouth. “i don’t quite like the taste of makeup remover, babe.”

“then shut the fuck up!” you finally lost it. you finally snapped at the nicest man on earth and you immediately stepped back. “i’m so sorry, glen.”

“it’s okay.” he said, reaching for your hand. “you know, you can tell me you need me to close my lips. i just get so nervous around you, my mouth goes a thousand miles a minute.”

you perked up immediately. glen doesn’t get nervous around anyone. why would he get nervous around you? before you could speak, glen beat you to it, as usual.

“i hired you on personally because i think you’re seriously talented, first of all, but also because you’re the most beautiful, kind, and caring girl i’ve ever met.” he turned to you in his swivel chair. “and it’s okay if you don’t want me back, i completely understand and i’ll never, ever, ever bring it up again, but please don’t quit. i couldn’t take losing you as a friend, y/n. i wouldn’t even know what to do-”

you don’t why you did it. maybe it was because you were annoyed at his ramblings, or perhaps it was because you realized you had always liked him too, ever since you got put on your first job with glen, years ago. but you leaned and captured your lips with his. glen reacted immediately, bringing you closer to him by your hips. your hands went into his hair and you’re sure you were probably messing up almost all the work you had just tried so hard to finish, but you didn’t care.

as you felt glen’s hands round your ass, you pulled back slightly breathless with a smile on your face. “you talk too much.”

“well, put your lips on mine and shut me up.”

[winterzsurprise]

Playing with fire || Miguel O'hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x f!reader

Summary: After risking your life to save one spider, Miguel had enough and decided it was time to discipline you.

Tags: SMUT, NOT BETA READ, face slapping (M&F), brat! reader, spanking, very brief blowjob, gagging, Miguel has a big dick, overstimulation (?), multiple orgasm denial, rough sex, pussy slapping, unprotected sex, pain kink, some aftercare at the end.

Words: 2.8k

idk how Tumblr works as well but user @/octobersoot said something about reader being a brat to Miguel and I had to revamp this one idea lol. I hope this counts as reader being a brat.

Spanish speakers, do correct me with the last one in the translation, thank you in advance :DD

cariño - honey || mi vida - my life || coño - fuck (literally means cunt but google said it can also be used as like 'fuck!' or 'shit!' in English)

"NO DON'T!"

When you ripped yourself from Miguel's hands and jumped down into the black hole to catch the Spider-Man that fell into it, you had two thoughts.

If you die, Miguel would pull you from hell to kill you.

If you lived, Miguel would make sure you'd regret it.

As the void approaches, you latched onto one falling debris and leaped out to get closer to the guy whose wrist’s flicked to release some webs for you to catch on but you ignored it. You’ve seen how using webs to catch someone goes and it didn’t end well, you’re not about to make the same mistakes.

Reaching out to grab the falling Peter's hand, you webbed to the nearest stable item you could before feeling Miguel’s webs wrap around your waist. The momentary fear and adrenaline from saving the spider drained out of your skin almost immediately. Hearing the angry man barking orders above you, you prayed early for your soul.

You're not religious but you'd certainly need a diety's kind soul to take pity on you today once you’re left behind doors with Miguel alone.

"AY COÑO, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! DID YOU GET YOUR HEAD HIT SOMEWHERE??"

You grunted, tugging President Spidey with you. "Just pull us up!"

"I should let go of you for being so stupid!"

"Then fucking do it coward!"

Despite his comments, it took one tug from Miguel to pull you and President Spider-Man to a safe spot on a building they were resting at to watch the consequences of altering canon events. The anger radiating out of his body would be enough to trigger your senses, his glare searing a hole through your skull.

Looking up sheepishly, Miguel’s face was contorted into subdued rage. The absolute fury lashing in his dark red eyes made your heart drop to the soles of your feet.

You're absolutely fucked and you don't know if you regret it or not.

On one hand, he's going to murder you and split your body into pieces to feed the kraken version of Doc Ock. But on the other, he's unfathomably hot when he's glaring through your flesh and soul.

How could he be so alluring while plotting your murder? You have no idea.

"We're going to have a talk." His darkened voice made your spine tingle, you nod and turned to run towards Hobi but the firm hand on your shoulder halts you. "Don't move, I'll break your knees if you do."

President Spider-Man shrunk beside you, more intimidated by the threat directed towards you than you do. 

"Is that a threat, boss?"

"No cariño, it's a promise."

Leaping down to greet the quarantine squad, he left the two of you on the rooftops. President Spidey turned to you, worried to the nines for your soul.

"D-do you need to universe hop? You're free to hide at mine, since it's my fault you're gonna get grinded later."

You laughed, slapping him in the back to which he wheezed at. "Don't worry, he won't bite."

•=•=•=•=•=•

Despite your shit attempt of comforting President Spider-Man, he didn't leave your side, ready to jump in front of you if Miguel happens to snap in the middle of the journey back to HQ. Hobie however, attempted to pry him off of your side with an amused smile.

“Have you realized how fucked you are?”

President Spidey hushed him, to which the man raised an eyebrow at. “Don’t say that.”

When you all entered the office, Miguel halted and you all followed. There’s a buzz in the back of your head and a glance at the nervous wreck beside you tells you that he felt it too.

"Everyone except my wife, leave."

President Spidey almost spoke up, probably to request to stay next to you until Hobie swung his arms around his neck and pulled him out, but not before saluting to you.

"I'll burn the ministry in your honor."

His voice echoed in the dimly lit room until the hatch closed shut, isolating you and your husband from the outside world until further notice. You watch as a yellow holographic lady materializes over his shoulder, Layla whose gaze immediately met yours.

"Layla, make sure no one tries to enter my office until I say so. Go hang out with Spiderbyte in the meantime."

"Don't break the poor girl, she didn't do—"

"I don't want to hear it. Leave." 

Sparing you a pitiful smile, she dispersed into the air. With no hatch to escape to, nor any obstacles to run behind, you were left standing a few footsteps away from the man.

"I thought we had an agreement to keep ourselves safe during missions?"

There was a simmering anger hidden behind his words, tone almost dark and bitten back.

"I was safe, you just need to place a little faith on—"

"The last time I did that, the people I cared about died." 

You wanted to defend yourself, bring up being safer since you're Spider-Man and all that but you knew it wouldn't end well. Seeing the seething anger radiating off of him, that's the best course of action.

Hanging your head down with a sigh. "Alright, I'm sorry."

"Sorry's not gonna cut it this time, cariño. I think I have to drill it into you."

Your brain clicks, realizing what he said and you frown. "Fucking is not gonna help us right now, Miguel!"

"Well I don't see you complaining every time it happens, do I? If I recall, you've begged, cried and screamed my name again and—"

Your hand moved faster than your brain as you slapped the man. You gasped, bringing both hands up to your mouth as you watched him go silent.

"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No no no, I see how it is."

You waited for his next move with bated breath, goosebumps prickling your skin. You debated on taking a few steps back but before you could, he surged with his hands grabbing your neck and slamming you on the wall, stealing the breath from your lungs and you gasped.

“You know the words, mi vida?”

You curled your eyebrows at him. Does he mean your safeword?

“F-fucking get your hands off of me, let's talk."

The light slap on your cheeks shocked you, mouth falling ajar at the action. You couldn’t deny the fact that the sting left by his hand has stirred your desires awake, nor can you even dare to mention how breathless—figuratively and literally—he left you. 

Miguel observed your eyes, cautious of any hurt flashing in them before putting more pressure on the side of your throat and you greedily inhaled more air as much as you could. Dark spots crawl from the side of your vision and fear starts to claw at your heart.

Yet the uncomfortable slickness and ache between your thighs says otherwise.

"Your words."

"I'm not using them!"

The grin curling his lips sent shivers down your spine, doom looming over you.

"Good."

Before you could say anything, he released your throat and you fell to the floor, inhaling greedily for air as your vision slowly repairs itself.

"I've been wanting to tame that mouth of yours since earlier."

You coughed, peering up at him through your eyelashes. "R-really? I thought you liked that about me?"

"Oh really? I thought I said I only liked your mouth, not your voice."

Grabbing your jaw, he forced you to look up before pushing two of his fingers through your lips, pressing down on your tongue as his suit disintegrated to reveal his formal clothes. Miguel's hand threads through your hair, caressing the back of your head before tugging. With a wicked grin, he continued.

"Strip."

It was a command, not a request. The low timbre of his voice sends jolts of pleasure down your spine. Following his heeds like a hypnotized woman, you made quick work of your clothes, tossing them to the side and unshackling your web shooters.

Reaching up, you unbuttoned his pants and took care of his fly before shrugging the clothing down his thighs. The tent in his boxers sent shivers down your spine, a promise of pleasure behind its confines.

Pulling it down, his girth revealed itself to you and your tongue grew heavy inside your mouth, a few dribbles of pre-cum on the tip and the prominent veins giving it an illusion of being larger than it already is. Miguel pulled you closer making you kiss the base of his dick.

"What a sinful face you have, cariño. I'm starting to like this more."

He guided his length to your mouth, smearing his clear arousal on the plush of your lips making you open up only for his hand to come down harshly against your cheeks once more.

The sharp sting immediately melts into hot arousal pooling down your thighs.

"Do you really think you deserve me, mi cielo? After speaking back to me earlier?"

"I want it, please?"

He scoffed. "'Want' it? Do you think you own me? That's funny."

His webs embraced you and he pulled, making you stumble to the floor with a yelp. Being bound tightly by Miguel who towered over you with sadistic glee and glowering eyes, made you feel small all over.

Yet the sick bastard at the back of your head smiled an ugly grin.

"How about we try it again? Maybe if you ask nicely, I'll give you what you wanted."

He pulled you back to a standing position, his hand immediately locking onto your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his dilated and darkened red pairs that seemed to tempt you to drown yourself in them.

Your eyes fell to the hand pumping himself leisurely and groaned.

"Please? Darling, I want to taste you."

"Do you deserve it?"

"I'm more of an action type of person than a talker."

He said nothing, watching as you fall back to your knees before tapping the head of his cock onto your lips. Once your mouth opened, his hand on your jaw crawled to the back of your head and pushed.

The sudden and wide intrusion down your throat got you gagging yet Miguel only found pleasure from the throb of your muscles constricting around him. 

You remind yourself to breathe through your nose, trying to force yourself through it but your throat complains and you knew you couldn't take it. Slapping his thighs thrice, he pulled away immediately, clicking his tongue while you coughed and gasped for air.

"Bold talk. I knew your mouth wasn't fit for speaking at all. Such a shame it can't do anything at all."

Still focused on the throb in your throat, you weren't able to react fast enough when he pulled you flush to his chest by the web and carried you to the platform where a cushioned chair awaits.

He sat and you ended up on his lap with both his calloused hands grounding you by the shoulder and hips. Miguel's burning eyes roamed the expanse of your chest, one hand rising to trace his gaze with his fingertips and pinching the stiffened peaks of your mounds making you moan from the slightest touch.

"Maybe your pussy could do a better job."

The hand soon crept around your neck with his eyes where it pressed against its sides once more.

It was maddening how you could feel his hardness pressing against your folds yet unable to do much about it. The firm hand on your hips prevents you from grinding down on him. He does reach down to your clit, palming your engorged bead but before you could revel in it, he pulled away.

"Did those slaps get you this wet baby? Didn't know you're such a slut."

Your cheeks lights up and you slapped his cheek lightly for the name he called you, only for Miguel to return it harder.

"You don't get to slap me, slut. The only thing you're for is this pussy."

A wet slap resonated in the room and you cried, thighs closing from the impact on your heat, embarrassment burning your body before shame crawled up your throat as you realized his demeaning behavior seems to only goad you further.

He didn't give you a chance to prepare when he pushed his cockhead into you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as the burn of the stretch stung your veins and stirred your desire further. Every inch inserted tore you apart, the sensation a mixture of heaven and hell, it was delicious as it was painful.

Seeing the struggle in your face, Miguel reached down to roll your clit in slow circles, whispering affirmations into your ears. The moment he sensed your accommodation to his girth did he pull out till his head remained, angling his hips before inserting himself back again to hit the spongy spot on your walls.

You whimpered and moaned in his shoulder as his pace grew with a manic fervor. The pain slowly transitioned into pleasure with the frequency of his thrusts, your nails dug into his shoulder as he pushed himself deeper and deeper into you, narrowly missing your uterus as he pistoned into you.

Mind whirled in ecstasy and lightness brought by his fingers on your throat, you only grabbed onto him for dear life as he quickly dragged you to the edge. 

Feeling the familiar pulse and tightness of your walls around him, Miguel suddenly pulled away and you cried.

"Why did you pull away?"

His hand came down with a loud crack! as it collides with the globes of your ass in quick successions. Your hips twists as you clenched desperately on air. Desire clawed at your throat and you whimpered, body already missing the rush of pleasure he brought with every push.

“Do you think you deserve it, mi vida?”

You nodded and he chuckled darkly. “I don’t think you do.”

Despite his words, Miguel entered you once more, picking up his previous pace. Your previous orgasms arose, walls clamping down onto him, desperate for the release you craved so deeply. There's a wet sound echoing in the room along and you flushed deeper yet far too desperate for euphoria to care. 

His deft fingers found your clit with experienced accuracy and slapped it with every thrust of his hips. 

You shouldn't be enjoying every bit of pain yet here you were, moaning and wriggling your hips for more stimulation like a mad woman.

"My cariño's such a slut taking all of this pain like the whore she is. Bet you liked that spider guy huh? Jumping off like a fool to save a dick, so pathetic."

Miguel pulled away and you cried, the itch of dissatisfaction searing through your body. You clawed at his back as if the pain could threaten him, in response, Miguel swats your rear once more.

"A little slut like you doesn't deserve to cum. After that stupid stunt earlier? Do you think you deserve to come?"

"Yes yes yes."

He slapped you across the face but you could care less, whining.

"Stop being a dick and give it to me, please!"

Clicking his tongue. "Such a desperate slut, I'd slap you for that, but I'm feeling a bit generous."

It was his fingers that attacked you this time, deftly rubbing your clit. Your hips stuttered up to follow his hand.

“Might as well count how many, right?”

Your mind grows lighter as time bleeds against each other. His objections to your orgasms grew frequent as the intervals between your nirvana grew shorter, you have lost count of how many he has denied you and has long stopped doing so, body now laid motionlessly on top of his as you sobbed onto his shoulder from frustration.

Miguel didn't care, in fact, he reveled in your misery every time. 

His hips pistoned faster, tip almost always nudging your spot with every thrust as his lips caught yours in a weakened dance, there was a shift in the air and you knew he had finally relented on dragging it out. 

"Come for me, darling. I want it all, give it to me."

The pleasure that bursted in your veins wasn't like the others from before. The ecstasy woke every nerve ending in your body alight, limbs growing weightless from the shock of pleasure from your orgasm as electric shocks reverberated from your core and to the tip of your fingers.

Your thighs convulsed violently and you screamed, arousal squirting to drench his stomach. Miguel's arms curled around you protectively as you shivered, whispering hushed affirmations in your ears while the impact of a long-denied orgasm shattered you.

"You did so well for me, mi vida. I’m here, no more of that."

Miguel soaked in your every moans and sobs as he murmured something you couldn't catch, mind far too foggy to process.

You didn't even realize that he didn't came, focused solely on comforting you through your high.

His racing heartbeat matched the pace of the throb in your head, you could hear your breathing echo in your ears yet in the state of exhaustion, you found it calming, melodic even. Miguel’s fingers that gave and tore your pleasure away now caressed the back of your head, gently as if you’ll break apart.

You could make out his chapped lips pressing kisses onto your temple as exhaustion won over your body, eyes falling shut with the melodic rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

Part One:

TW: Angst, Implied SA but it doesn't happen, More K-Drama BS

Description: Alastor and Vox both want you for themselves

The new normal at the hotel has been you doing everything you can to ignore Alastor while he tries to get your attention

Along with Vox showing up at the doorstep to make a point of seeing you or having gifts delivered to the hotel, gifts that you spurn harder than ever before

Which only makes Vox try harder and irritates Alastor further. In fact, their fighting has gotten downright nasty lately

But Alastor has definitely been trying to sweep things under the rug between you two while trying to discredit Vox at the same time

Usually, he saddles up next to you and is quiet for a good minute, making you relax slightly before he opens his mouth and ruins it

"Ah, did Vox give you that terrible contraption? Let me take care of that for you!"

In a flash the phone is snatched from your hands and being thrown away, the sound of breaking glass following

"MY WINDOWS!!"

It always ends in you leaving the room before Alastor even gets a chance to apologize because he can't just be normal about it

All his efforts to smoothly apologize to you just ends up pushing you away and things get more awkward around the hotel. For everyone

Alastor doesn't think to change his tactics because he thinks he has time to get you to warm up to him again

Unbeknownst to him though, the worse things get between you two, the more you feel like you don't belong at the hotel anymore

It's difficult to be around Alastor because part of you feels so drawn to him, but another part of you is still so hurt and angry at him

You had finally snapped at him one day after he had tried to dance with you to some tune on the radio, ripping your hand out of his grip and turning away

"Just leave me alone, Alastor. You've done enough."

You remember how he stopped in obvious surprise, his teeth clenching so hard that he drew blood as he struggles to get his next words out

"...As you wish, my dear."

And on top of that, you're feeling guilty for making things uncomfortable for everyone else at the hotel

So you say your goodbyes to everyone except Alastor and leave, something that's extremely hard for you to do

"Promise you'll come visit us, okay? We're gonna miss you so much!!!"

The poor girl is in tears, hugging you so tightly that you're afraid your body will break. Vaggie has to pull her off of you

"Charlie, please don't cry. It's not like I won't be around.."

It took everything in you not to let your gaze wander towards Alastor watching you on the banister with a tight smile on his face, his claws digging into the wood

You can't help but feel guilty as everyone hugs you goodbye and you make eye contact with him, his monocle cracking as you start to walk out the door

Just as you're about to shut the door behind you, you feel his breath on your neck and his hand on your wrist. You don't fight it as he slowly turns your body so that you're facing him

"Alastor-"

"Y/N, I know you want me to leave you be and I will respect that but please let me just say this..."

You match the intensity of his gaze, noses nearly touching, you can feel each other's hearts beating as hope starts to bubble up inside you

Hope that he'll apologize, that he'll ask you to stay and be here with him at the hotel, hope that swells even more inside you as he leans in

"Goodbye, my dear..."

The radio static in his voice glitches out from sadness, but it's nothing compared to how cold you feel as he takes off a bead from his monocle and places it into your hand gently

You stare at him as he folds your fingers gently over the onyx bead before ghosting his lips over your fingers as if sealing them

He's really letting you go? You can't help but stare at him, searching his face for a sign that he doesn't mean what he's saying

"Think of me from time to time, won't you? Consider this my parting gift."

Your cheek tingles where his claws brush against it momentarily before he's turning away and walking back into the hotel, a defeated aura about him

Watching him walk away feels like the air has been sucked out of you, your chest tight and eyes suddenly feeling hot

You've been trying and trying to get him to just leave you alone in the hopes that it would stop the pain you feel but now that he's truly done it you don't want him to

The moment Alastor is out of sight from everyone, he digs his claws into the nearest piece of furniture, his antlers coming out as he rips apart nearly everything in sight

He didn't want to let you go, but his desire for you to be happy outweighed his selfish desire to keep you

Now that he let you go, he realized the full extent of his feelings, that he had fallen for you and had hurt you deeply

And he's at a loss now of how to fix it

Falling asleep that night was impossible for you, you kept thumbing the bead Alastor had given you and thinking of him

You end up putting it on a piece of jewelry and wearing it, messing with it whenever you need comfort. Which happens to be a lot as you step into your new normal

You're walking back home one day when you're surrounded by thugs, all of them looking at you with ill intent as one of them grabs your arm

"I don't have anything to give you..! Let me go!"

One of the demons gives you an oily malicious look, pulling you up to his chest as you try to push him off of you

"Oh, I think you have plenty to give us, beautiful~"

You shut your eyes tight out of fear, knowing you're outnumbered, one of them grabs your face harshly and forces something bitter down your throat

"There~ Now you should be nice and pliant for us!"

You shudder in disgust as a tongue paints a horrendous smelling stripe across your neck, about to cry out when you're abruptly yanked away

Alastor!

You feel yourself pressed up against a firm chest, curled into strong arms, and instinctively wrap your arms around his neck

You hear static and shrieking but don't dare open your eyes for fear of tears falling and looking more pathetic than you already do

Once it goes quiet then you open your eyes, unable to keep the smile off your face at the thought that Alastor came to save-

"Vox..?"

He doesn't put you down, instead opting to carry you as he walks away from the bodies littered on the ground, a pleased look on his face

"Y/N, what are you doing out here all alone? You could've really gotten hurt if I hadn't stepped in!"

You do your best to quell the disappointment you feel and try to push off Vox's chest to look him in the eyes, only to find yourself overwhelmingly tired suddenly

You start to feel feverish, resting your head on his shoulder as your eyes grow heavy, a small part of you registering his hand on your forehead

"Don't you worry, baby. I'll take care of you."

You fist his shirt weakly as you start to lose consciousness, your free hand rubbing the bead Alastor had given to you

Your last thoughts are of Alastor and how you wish it had been him who saved you before everything goes to black

Vox carries you all the way to his home, letting the paparazzi take all the photos they want of the two of you and holding you close

It was pure luck that he happened to run into you, part of him can't help but think of how perfect it is as he lays you down in his bed

He strokes your cheek gently before pulling the covers over you, giving your forehead a gentle kiss before moving off the bed to go sleep in an armchair

Only to stop when he sees a bit of jewelry with a single black bead on it, taking it off of you for reasons he doesn't entirely understand

Reminds him of Alastor in a way he supposes

He orders some new clothes to brought up for you in the morning, settling down in the chair to watch over you

It feels right to have you here with him, after so much time and effort spent trying to convince you that you two would be good together

Hopefully after this you'll feel it too

As Vox drifts off to sleep, part of him hears you mumbling Alastor's name, but he chooses to assume you're having a nightmare

The next morning at the hotel, everyone is suspiciously silent when Alastor walks into the lobby, Husk quickly hiding a newspaper when he sees him

But he was too late, and Alastor zeroes in on him, his staff tapping menacingly on the floor as Alastor approaches the bartender

"Ah, hiding something from me, are we? My daily paper, no less!"

Husk nearly goes white when Alastor yanks the paper out of it's hiding spot, Charlie suddenly trying to distract the overlord

"Alastor! I was actually needing your help! Like right now-"

Alastor shoves her face out of the way of the paper, humming in slight annoyance at her outburst

"Now Charlie~ It's quite rude to interrupt someone like that."

Angel and Husk grab Niffty then dart out of the room as Alastor raises the newspaper to his face. Charlie and Vaggie watching nervously as Alastor's body tenses and there's an audible crack of glass

Suddenly, the newspaper is crumbled together, then violently opened again just to be torn apart

"Breaking News! VoxTek CEO has new beau? Love birds caught after wild night out!"

All the pain of missing you and the regret from letting you go finally boiled over as he read the headline. The photos made his blood boil, and Alastor knew he had to do something

The entire hotel shakes as Alastor abruptly stands up, his smile a twisted snarl as he pulls his coat on to leave

Charlie is the one who stops him, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a worried look

"Alastor! Where are you going?"

He has anger radiating off of him, Charlie can see that he's seething as he shakes her hand off and exits the hotel in a huff

"I'm going to get Y/N back."

Part Three:

[sillysowa]

Could you do a lil one-shot of Hobie and fem reader on a road trip, reader driving until he takes the wheel since she took too many distracted stops at roadside shops. That’s until he takes his own stop this time but it involves him on her lap🤭 or not, nsfw or sfw- just a lil idea <3

Not gonna lie, I started writing this request and half way through I realized I read it wrong. Hobie on her lap caught me off guard and I didn’t quite understand how to do that in a car (or what your specific idea was) but I hope this is satisfactory—I went with a switch reader vibe!

I WANNA BE SEDATED!

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!READER

GENRE: SMUT! PWP

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

WARNINGS: USE OF Y/N, USE OF PET-NAMES, SEX IN A CAR, SLIGHTLY DOM READER AT POINTS, VAGINAL SEX

AUTHORS NOTE: NOT PROOFREAD SO THERE MAY BE SLIGHT MISTAKES!

SYNOPSIS: WHATS A ROAD TRIP WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND WITH NO SEX ON THE HIGHWAY?

—

“Oh my god, Hobie! This one looks cute!” You gush for about the sixth time in the past two hours, pulling off into another local cafe in a small town. The car swings to the side as you enter the tiny parking lot and Hobie’s lanky frame bangs around in his seat as he clings to the handle on his side,

“Shit! Holy fuck, love! Go easy.” He curses, laughing in complete disbelief at your trash driving. You pull into the small bakery parking lot and bother the shit out of Hobie the entire time you’re inside (he loves it.) He pays for it all and you leave with a couple cases of sweets and pile them into your baskets in the back of the car for safekeeping. You “dust” your hands off, reaching for the drivers side door when Hobie’s hand shoots out and snatches your wrist,

“I don’t think so, dollface. It’s my turn—get your sweet ass in the passenger seat.” Hobie quips, nodding towards the other side of the car. You huff and walk over,

“Your driving isn’t any better than mine!” You say, getting comfortable in your seat and not so discreetly catching glimpses at Hobie’s hands as he turns the car on and shifts it into reverse.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He laughs, his hand over you and firmly on the back of your seat as pulls out of the parking lot.

“Oh shut up.” You snap, sipping your drink and messing with his radio. When he’s noticed this, he quickly stops you,

“Ah-ah-ah! I’m driving, my songs.” He tsks, waving his finger at you all annoyingly and pointing to the cds he brought into your car. (He stole every single one.) You sift through all of them, announcing the titles until Hobie gives you the green light on one,

“Road to ruin, Ramones?”

“Yes! Play that one, love.” He smiles, eyes on the road as you put the CD in. Instantly, loud punk rock fills the car, the both of you getting hype and energetic. Hobie drummed his ring clad fingers over the wheel, thrashing his head around and yelling out lyrics, having the time of his life. He stole glances at you—the way your lips locked around the straw of your drink from the cafe, the way you sang along to his favorite songs, and how jaw droppingly gorgeous you look as his passenger princess. It made him feel a certain way, his mischievous side coming out as he pulls over the car in the middle of nowhere on the busy highway.

“Hobie?-“

“Get in the back baby.” Hobie mumbles, that special glint in his eyes as he looks at you, swallowing. You smile widely for a moment before you hurriedly unbuckle and clamor into the backseat with Hobie, a giggling mess. His tall stature struggles in the small car, stumbling around and falling onto the seats. You’re both breathless and laughing, the sunlight fading from view and the only lighting being the cars on the road and the inside lights on in the front seat. Hobie’s under you, kissing you passionately with his hips thrusting up against yours. You break the kiss to suck hickeys into his neck, your whole body shuddering at the sounds he makes,

“A-Ah! Fuck-Don’t stop.” He grunts, his hands finding their way to your hips. You pull back looking him in the eyes, waiting,

“Oh, Y/N don’t make me-“

“Beg.”

“Fuck.” Hobie sighs, looking up at your beautiful smiling eyes, the sadistic look in your them making his cock twitch,

“Please…please don’t stop.” Hobie grunts, his hand reaching up into your hair and tugging it, the moan that leaves your lips a firm reminder of how much you both want this. You grin at him, leaning down and kissing his neck, sucking hickeys right into that sensitive spot of his. Hobie’s hips grind into yours, and you grind back. He’s breathless in the warm air, the windows starting to fog up in the corners.

“Y/N…Y/N.” He moans, reaching up and holding your waist, his fingers dipping under your top as he looks up at you, asking for permission. You nod and he instantly pulls your shirt off of you, nearly cumming at the sight of your tits.

“Fuck…” He groans, sitting up slightly and immediately flicking his tongue over one your nipples, the needy look in his eyes and the sensation driving you insane. Hobie sucks and licks your nipples, biting every now and then, letting out growl-like noises. The bulge in his jeans is hard against your covered pussy, and you feel his need in the sweat on his skin, the agog look in his eyes and the labored breathing that plagues him as he tugs at your pants by the belt loops. Both of you waste no time in stripping completely naked, panting as his loud rock music thrums in your skulls,

“Y-Y/N please,”

“I’m ready, Hobie.” You groan, your pussy rubbing over his hard cock before he grabs your face in his two large hands and kisses you passionately. It’s a mess—you’re both groaning and moaning, so horny you think you could die. Hobie breaks the kiss. his gaze traveling down to where you sink your hips down and he slides all the way inside you. Hobie squeezes his eyes shut at the feeling—warm, wet, walls clenching his cock and threatening to milk him for all he’s got. Hobie feels his adrenaline race and his arms come around your back, pulling your flat against his chest as he fucks you as hard as he can,

“H-Hobie!” You moan, surprised as he aggressively rams into that sweet spot in you, the sound of sex barely heard over the sound of punk rock. The car shakes and your eyes roll into the back of your head at the sensation of his cock deep inside you, stretching you wide open and leaving you breathless,

“Take it, doll. Take all of it, I know you can—your pussy loves my dick, fuckin’ made for it.” He groans, a mumbling mess drunk on your pussy. He fucks you with a steady rhythm, the cars on the road flying past the both of you with their high beams illuminating the car. Hobie’s eyebrows are pinched, his face warm to the touch and you can what his heart beating rapidly. Your pussy clenches and pulsates, the feeling of being fucked like this leaving you delirious. Your head was fuzzy, and your walls were growing tighter as you neared your orgasm, Hobie dirty-talking you through it.

You feel warm cum spilling out of you as he just beats up your insides. You couldn’t tell how many times you came, all you knew was “Yes!” “More!” and “Hobie~!” Hobie loosened his grip on you just as he was about to cum, moving his head to kiss you while he spills inside you, both of you moaning into each others mouths. It was loud, it was messy, and it was insane. You felt the twitching of his entire length as his warm cum filled your insides, Hobie still pumping into you in your overstimulation. You both had to take a minute to regroup yourselves after that kind of sex, stumbling to sit up and get dressed again,

“Couldn’t help it, you looked so good sucking that straw eatlier.” Hobie confesses as he pulls his jeans on,

You laugh, disbelief al over your face, “That’s what this was about? You fucking pervert!” You laugh, playfully shoving his arm. Hobie smirks,

“I’ll be that if it means fucking you like this.” Hobie says in a deep tone as he grabs your face and kisses you roughly, getting a taste of you one last time before you have to get on the road again.

[heizouz]

nsfw sub!heizou + gn!reader, overstimulating

"m-my god, please, please, god." you'd never seen him this desperate before.

heizou's work papers are spread out around him on the bed, messily strewn and unorganised. he's only in his shirt, unbuttoned, and his black tie hung loosely around his collar.

he's already cum once, made a mess all over himself but you hadn't given him a chance to breathe as you continue to drag your hand over his cock, your speed not changing.

heizou gasps, fingers grabbing the sheets and his shirt rides up his stomach when he arches his back off the bed, head thrown back and thighs shaking slightly.

"i'm.. i- i'm-" heizou cuts himself off constantly, with whimpers and whines, gasping for air. he can't think about anything but your hand on his cock, and he's bucking his hips into your fist. he feels dazed and dizzy, everything too much because you've never overstimulated him before.

"'m gonna cum, pl-mhfuck please." the last 'please' comes out breathless and heizou looks at you through his eyelashes before he moans loudly, fucking into your fist needily and you just let him.

"you gonna cum again, doll?" you tease, voice soft and you pick up your pace only slightly but it knocks a pretty moan from his lips.

heizou nods all pliant, eyes big and teary and he whimpers, "y-yeah-mh.." his eyebrows are furrowed, pretty lips open in small pants and he's still needily canting his hips into your hand. his laid-back, confident persona had simmered away, desperation clinging to him as soon as you had got your hands on him.

you tilt your head slightly, watching as he fucks himself with your hand and the red haired keeps gasping loudly. you lean over him - unbothered about crushing his papers - hand never slowing down on his cock and you gently hook your finger under his chin to make him look at you. heizou's olive eyes are dazed, only just open as he pants heavily, chest rising and falling and small whimpers leave his lips.

"you're so pretty, darling. so pretty when you're so desperate," you look down to watch your hand slide up and down his pretty cock dripping onto his stomach, "gonna make another mess for me?"

heizou nods again, eyes closing, "mhm.. pl..please."

you can't help the small smile forcing its way onto your lips at how needy he is. you'd never seen him so submissive before, his brain almost completely switched off of anything but you and your hand on him.

"oh, god.. please.." you squeeze his cock lightly, turning his head to look at you again and there's not a single thought behind his pretty eyes other than wanting to cum for you.

heizou makes the prettiest noise when you tease the head of his cock, back arching off the bed as he moans, fucking into your fist once again. you bite your lip gently, watching as he drips against your fingers and you part your lips in awe, "fuck. i could have you like this all day."

you watch him break - panting and gasping endlessly, hands grabbing everything he can: the sheets, your forearm, his work papers by his side.

brushing your thumb over his tip again, you swallow his pretty whines when you press your lips to his. heizou whimpers against your lips, kiss desperate as he gasps into your mouth, hips knocking into your fist in a needy way of showing he was close.

you quietly groan against his lips and he only lasts a few more seconds. it takes just a small flick of your wrist for him to snap.

the red haired pulls away from your lips, head falling back on to the bed in a silent gasp before a loud moan rips from his throat. heizou's back arches, fists gripping the sheets and eyes rolling back when he cums against your hand. you don't move away from his face, watching his eyes open slightly and pretty tears shine in them. you lean down to press a desperate kiss to his lips and he can hardly kiss back, whole body lax.

"fuck, that's it baby." you groan and stroke him through it as he cums, making a mess all over your fist and his stomach and his thighs shake as he gently bucks into your hand. heizou's shirt is crumpled underneath him, along with a few of his papers but he doesn't even realise, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.

you don't let up though. your hand still works along his cock, albeit slower than before to help him through the sensitivity. your strokes are light but the touch is enough for heizou to whimper, head shaking, "stop, please.. please.."

"you can do one more, can't you?" you smile, watching heizou's hips stutter every time your hand glides up his cock, "c'mon, darling."

heizou almost cries out once your grip tightens a little, eyes welling up with pretty tears. the red haired breathes heavily, eyes glancing at you desperately, "can't- i can't, please."

despite the denial, he lets out a quiet moan, eyebrows scrunching. heizou's legs unconsciously fall open and a grin tugs at your lips.

"that's a good boy."

[ssturniolo]

Hi! First I would like to start by saying that I LOVE your writing and my request is one for Matt where basically they are all on tour and the reader gets like dizzy and passes out on stage and the they all like carry the reader off of the stage and then on like the socials people are like praising Matt for how calm he was being and like a fluffy ending pls and if you don't have time or just don't wanna do this that's fine also love your work again!

Dizzy

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Matt x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - request <3

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - nothing

You smile as the bright stage lights shine down, the crowd still going wild for the triplets. This being the last show, Matt asked you to be his partner which you happily accepted.

You’ve never been on tour before but it’s exceeded your expectations, although very stressful.

Matt tosses the basketball to you, snapping you out of your little trance. Standing up from your chair, you wobble a bit, your vision going fuzzy.

“You alright there love?”

“Mhm” you blink a few times before walking up to shoot. After missing the shot miserably once again, you return to your previous seat, feeling like absolute shit.

Suddenly, the lights felts extremely bright, the voices seemed painfully loud, and you didn’t think you had enough energy to shoot again.

You push yourself off of the chair with shaky hands, ready to make your way over to Matt. It’s not like this is the first time this has happened, you’ve felt like this on and off all day today and yesterday.

“I’m gonna go get water quick” you whisper to Matt after he finishes shooting.

“Do you want some of mine?” He offers, pointing at his nearly full water bottle sitting on the ground.

You just shake your head, making your way across the stage. Your vision has gone fuzzy again and your legs feel like jello as you grab for something, anything to hold you up. So close to making it off the stage; out of the sight of so many people but you couldn’t. And everything goes black.

A gasp echos around the room as the crowd watches you collapse, each of them angling their phones in your direction.

Matt is quick to sprint over to you, swiftly scooping you into his arms before carrying you bridal style off of the stage.

He lays you down on the couch in the triplets “break” room, his face twisted with concern. Luckily, it didn’t take long for your eyes to flutter open, immediately mortified of what just happened.

“I’m so so sorry Matt I tried to make it off stage, I really did” you apologize, covering your reddened face with your hands.

Matt takes a hold of your wrists, pulling them down.

“You don’t need to apologize honey, are you ok?”

Sighing, you squeeze your eyes shut, attempting to pull yourself together. “I think I just need to eat something” you eventually say.

“But I really really don’t want to go back out there” you add, afraid to disappoint him but too weak and embarrassed to go back onto stage.

“That’s ok my love, I’ll pull a fan from the crowd to be my partner” Matt smiles gently, placing sweet kisses on your knuckles.

“Matt” you say as he gets up to go back on stage.

“Hm?”

“I’m lowkey kinda excited for the edits. You’re my hero”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kinda different than what you asked but I hope you like it ! :)

XOXO - Zoe

Taglist ⬇️

@dwntwn-strnlo @mbbsgf @gabbylovesreading @0-r-a-y-0 @sturn3g1rl @lvrsparadise @taylorssfilmsss @emssturniolo @ilovemattsturn @mattestrella @itsaaliyah2 @thetriplets3 @urfavstromboli

[gavisfanta]

Hey could you maybe do a fermin Lopez smut where he comes home in a bad mood cuz they lost a game against Madrid and they have a argument, then reader calls him,, hijo de puta" Which means son of a bitch and it ends with rough and dominant smut?

Thanks, and you don't have to write it if ur uncomfortable ❤🫶

CLÁSICO - FERMIN

summary: fermin losses a game and he doesn't like your reaction to it.

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks. Its so short and not very detailed and im sorry about that

:(

warnings: smut

"Fuck" You muttered under your breath as the final whistle of the game was blown. Barcelona had just lost 2-1 against real madrid.

You knew how important that game was to Fermin, he had talked about it months before how easy they're gonna beat them.

You sighed and gained Mikkys attention with that. "Are you okay?" She asked while she put a hand on your shoulder.

"Fermin is gonna be in a great mood now." You exhaled deeply and she then shook her head.

"He won't be that bad, don't worry." mikky smiled and Frenkie stood up.

They dropped you off at Fermins house, thats where the two of you usually hang out.

After sitting on your phone for what felt like an eternity you heard the door swin open.

"Hey" You smiled widely as you watched him throw his things to the ground. "You played amazin-" You tried to say but Fermin cut you off.

"Not now, leave me alone." Fermin said coldly while looking straight into your eyes and then walked past you to the couch.

You were a bit taken aback by his words, you knew that he would be in a bad mood, but not THIS bad.

"I get that you're angry, but you don't have to take it out on me?" You snapped back at him, you were fully right. Just because they lost, shouldn't give Fermin the right to be mad at you.

And Fermin knew that too.

"Y/n, just please leave me alone. Not now, really not now." Fermin turned to face you to say this, after he explained to you he turned around again.

"Hijo de puta." You whispered under your breath as you turned around, wanting to walk the other way.

Then you heard heavy footsteps coming closer to you at a rapid speed.

"Who the fuck are you calling a son of a bitch?" Strong hands gripped your wrists and pinned you the the wall. Your breath hitched at the sudden motion and you saw Fermin staring at you.

He wasn't aggressive, he was calm, but you knew that he was in a bad mood and he was not to mess with.

"Go upstairs." Fermin pointed to the stairs and slowly let go of your wrists. As you walked away he spanked your ass hardly, you were sure it left a mark.

As you went upstairs you sat down on the bed, not knowing what to do, until the door swung open again.

"Why are you clothed?" Fermin almost stormed inside and then goes over to you.

"You didn't tell me what to do." You mumbled as he leaned closer to you.

"Do I have to tell you to come on my dick for you to do it? No. Get naked." Fermin said in a harsh voice which was just in above a whisper.

As you took off your shirt Fermin watched you, the same with the pants, and you were left in underwear in front of him he started to take off his clothes too until he was left in his boxers. Fermin then nudged his head toward the king sized bed with black covers.

"Lie down" Fermin mumbled and of course you did, he crawled over you on all fours. He then leaned down to kiss you, it wasn't gentle or sweet like other times, it was possesive, dominant and aggressive.

The heat between your legs only grew as his hands started sliding under you and groping your ass. He then took off your pants and your panties too, you whined as soon as the cold air hit your arousal.

You moaned silently into his mouth, Fermin pulled away.

"If you make a fucking noise again you wont come the whole night." Fermin told you, he was just a few millimeters away from your face.

Then you instantly nodded your head, not daring to say another word.

The kiss got more heated and Fermin opened your bra, sliding it down your arms he didn't break the kiss once. The only thing he did is release his right hand from your ass and squeeze your tit instead.

Moaning almost felt like a need now as he ran his hands down to your throbbing clit.

"Your cunt is so wet." Fermin groaned while he took off his pants and his shirt.

Then his hands traveled up to yohr mouth as he stuck two fingers inside your mouth for you to wet his fingers. As he was satisfied with you licking and sucking around his fingers he pulled them out of your mouth, a string of salvia connecting his fingers with your mouth still.

You whimpered as he slid his fingers into your pussy. You felt him his fingers run around your walls and eventually he pulled out and brought his hand to pump his hand up and down his dick a couple of times before he teased your entrance.

"Don't make a sound." Fermin gave you a look and you nodded, swallowing while he thrusted inside of you immediately, without any warning or giving you any time to adjust.

"Fermin" You moaned out and he pulled out of you for a second before thursting back even harder. He made you scream and you were sure that your neighbours are gonna file a complaint but it felt so damn good.

You felt a heat building up in your stomach when Fermin pushed down on your lower abdomen and made it feel even tighter inside of you.

He threw his head back while his thrusts became sloppy and then also started rubbing your clit.

It didn't take long for him to come but just as you felt your climax approach he pulled out of you and looked at his load spilling out of your pussy.

You gave him a questioning look as to why he didn't finish you off but he smiled.

"Bad girls don't get to come." He kissed your cheek and lied down next to you, hugging you tight. "Goodnight amor."

That dickhead.

[wishful-sinful-9]

WANNA BE YOUR DOG

Chapter Two

Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader

Chapters | Masterlist

You had his beer ready before he’d even approached the bar. He thanks you, and you go about wiping the counters and washing the glasses as per usual. You assume he’s pretending the previous morning’s events never happened. 

“Did you get the car fixed?” He speaks up suddenly. It’s a casual question, but there’s a hint of discomfort in its delivery.

“No, they’re gonna scrap it,” you reply without looking at him. “It was ancient anyway. So it’s fine.”

“How did you get to work then?”

“Bus.”

“And how are you gonna get home?”

You shift, fiddling with the cleaning rag in your hands. “I was just gonna…walk.”

He snorts. “In this weather? I’ll take you home.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Don’t argue.” So you don’t.

–

The bar owner counts his winnings from a table in the corner. You feel his eyes linger on you as you leave with Logan. You keep your eyes forward.

The winter air is biting after spending so many hours in that stuffy bar, a sensation that sends a shock through you no matter how many times you experience it. Logan pauses, and you look up to see him sniff. “It’s gonna start snowing.”

A giggle escapes and you clap a hand over your mouth as his attention snaps to you. “Sorry, Wolverine.”

His eyes roll and his lips twitch, daring to smile a little, “I’m just thinking about how you’re going to survive trekking home in the snow every night you work.”

You’re not so amused any more. “I- I’ll manage. I’m a big girl, Logan.”

You turn from him and trudge towards the van. He follows you with a shake of his head. 

That godforsaken silence returns on the drive home; your timidness prevents you from breaking it, but the weight of it makes you itch. Ten minutes in, you crack: “So cage fighting, huh?” You hate yourself the minute the words leave your lips. 

“Yes, cage fighting.” he affirms, glancing at you. 

“Is that your primary source of income?”

“Are you worried about how much I make?”

“No! I just- I’m curious- I-” Your face flames to the tips of your ears, wishing to return to the silence being mildly uncomfortable rather than absolutely agonising. “Forget it.” 

He watches your face for a moment. “I had a job interview yesterday. Part-time lumberjack. So I have a day job now.”

“Well then, congratulations,” you say. He grunts.

– 

Snowflakes, fat and glittering, have hastened their falling and begun to settle all around when Logan walks you to your door. It feels like deja vu when you stop in the doorway, him halting at the bottom doorstep so that you’re at eye level. Flakes fleck his dark hair and dust his broad shoulders in a way that you find makes him appear somehow endearing.

“I’ll keep dropping you home,” he states. “I can’t have your blood on my hands if you freeze to death.”

Your stomach squeezes and you giggle softly. “Thank you.”

You bid each other farewell. Lingering in the doorway, you watch him saunter back to his van, an idea forming. Before he can cross the street, you decide to fuck it and hurry to the gate, calling his name. “What if you moved in with me?”

–

It made perfect sense; you could barely survive with your measly bartender’s paycheck and he was starting a second job. The two of you could ride home together. It would get him out of the van life he’d been living in. So really, it’s not weird - it’s perfectly reasonable. 

You repeat this justification to yourself so as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven. You’d attempted to help him lift his boxes inside, but he’d shooed you off, claiming they were too heavy. Unwilling to sit around and twiddle your thumbs, you started baking a batch of welcome cookies to feel a little less underfoot. Logan wanders into the kitchen with wide eyes. 

“They’re welcome cookies,” you explain, carefully lifting each cookie onto the cooling rack. He goes to pick one up and you whack his wrist with the spatula, warning, “They’re hot, wait.” He growls a little and stares at them as if trying to will them to cool faster.

A smile lifts the corners of your mouth; maybe it won’t be so terrible.

a/n: next chapter will be longer promise😭

@viviannagiorgini @maximumchilddreamland @vinaluvsu

@policedeer