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corkinavoid · 7 months ago

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DPxDC Alt Rock to the Rescue

[Inspired by this art]

"...Alright, I might have an idea," John Constantine, who was seemingly busy texting someone for the past ten - or twenty, no one really counted - minutes, puts his phone away and snaps his head up.

The room falls silent. Superman blinks in surprise, Diana frowns slightly, and Batman's mouth is pressed into a thin, stubborn line. Flash recovers first.

"You have an idea?" He huffs a short, disbelieving laugh, "No offense, but I'm not sure a magic trick can help us against, you know, an alien fleet." He gestures to one of the screens on the wall, where said fleet is approaching Earth on live.

The rest of the Leaguers present don't exactly agree with him, at least not verbally, but the mood in the room shifts from tense, anxious alarm to an almost palpable annoyance. To be honest, no one was even sure why or how John Constantine of all people ended up in the meeting. It's not like JLD could actually help with an ongoing, massive invasion that was about to happen in less than three- Correction, less than two and a half hours. Besides, it's John Constantine. The man that never shows up unless outright bullied into submission.

The magician winces briefly and starts rummaging through his pockets under the weight of everyone's attention.

"I said I might," he amends gruffly, getting a cigarette out of one of his pockets and sticking it in his mouth but not lighting it. Seems like it wasn't what he was looking for, though, because after that, the man keeps going through the various places on his coat, patting himself down. "I know someone who can deal with it. Granted, I already owe him a great deal, but he won't say no," he pauses and grimaces, "At least I hope he won't."

"I do not think it would be wise to call upon gods in our situation," Diana tries carefully, but John pays her little mind.

"Or demons," Green Arrow adds, crossing his arms on his chest, "I'm not selling my soul to get rid of some rocket ships or whatever they are."

Now, that makes the magician bark a laugh. Or, maybe it's the piece of lime green paper - a sticky note, actually - that he finally finds in the depths of his pockets.

"Oh, your soul's gonna stay where it is."

"Constantine-" Batman starts, but John cuts him off instantly.

"Mine will stay wherever it is as well," he reassures the man, "It's not that kind of entity." And with that, he promptly sets the green note on fire - green fire - and uses it as a lighter for his cigarette.

The next moment after the note is reduced to ash, there's a shift in the air in front of him, and, before any of the heroes have a split second to react, there are two people floating in the middle of the room, backs pressed to each other.

Two teenagers, to be exact. A girl and a boy, both of them so pale that their skin looks gray, and both dressed in grunge, like they just came from a rock concert. Yet, that's where the 'normal' parts of their looks end - the boy's hair is so white it looks blinding, and moves in the air slowly, undeterred by gravity, and the girl's hair is neon blue, her ponytail flickering up like a flaming torch.

The boy nearly topples over as the girl leans her back on him harder and kicks her feet up slightly. The movement is awkward, like both of them were taken by surprise by the sudden relocation, and maybe the guess about the rock concert was not so far from reality; there are drumsticks in the boy's hands, and the girl is holding an electric guitar in her hands.

"The fuck?.." The boy asks no one in particular, as the girl makes an annoyed groan and straightens up, still floating in the air. Her guitar makes an aborted sound. Meanwhile, the boy's eyes land on Constantine, and his whole face scrunches in disgust, "John, for the love of Ancients, I was in the middle of something."

The girl takes a look around while her friend is busy expressing his annoyance and elbows him in the side, "Oi, look, it's the whole Comic Con in the flesh here."

Green Arrow sputters. Flash makes a wordless but very offended sound. The floating boy looks around, taking stock of faces in the room, and the disgust on his face morphs into exasperation.

He turns back to Constantine, "Really? I thought I told you I want no part in your furry parade."

"Alien invasion," the magician decidedly doesn't address any of that, instead pointing his finger to the screen behind him. "Thought you ought to know," he adds, a bit of sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

"Ooh, is it my turn to be your world saving buddy, Phantom?" The girl perks up, turning around and draping herself over the boy's shoulders with a giddy laugh. Her guitar shifts to hang in the air on her side all by itself.

The boy - Phantom - rolls his eyes. Bright green, glowing eyes that definitely don't belong to a human being.

"If I had a nickel every time I had to save the world, I'd probably be able to buy myself my own guitar," he grumbles and looks back to Constantine. "Do I, like, have to? Right now? You know, I don't get paid for this bullshit, and the studio we rented for rehearsal has an hourly rate, so if we can postpone this for about an hour and a half, that'd be real nice."

"The fleet is only two hours away from Earth," Batman supplies suddenly, and, when both floating kids turn to look at him, adds, "I can pay for your next rehearsal. Or a few of them." Evidently, Phantom's comment about nickels struck a nerve. Or, maybe, the man just likes throwing money at any teenager he encounters. Who knows.

The boy blinks, taken aback by the proposition. But the girl grins, sharp and wicked, and shoves her drummer - if the drumsticks are to tell - in the side again.

"Hey, free studio. Better than the last time."

That snaps Phantom out of his stupor, and he groans, "Don't remind me." With a weary sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in the air, almost like reclining on it. "Okay, fine, sure. Do you want them, like, away from Earth- um, this is Earth, right?" He turns to Superman, surprisingly, looking for confirmation, and the man nods, thrown off guard. The boy nods back and continues, "Or you want them blasted into oblivion, or what?"

"Whatever suits your mood, kid," John waves his hand at the screen as if making a welcoming gesture, "But all the aliens gotta go."

Unexpectedly, that makes the girl's grin even wider, and she reaches for her guitar, floating around Phantom and looking him in the face. The look she gives him speaks of mischief, and the boy seems to understand what she's implying before she as much as opens her mouth.

"Ember, no," he pounts a drumstick at her.

"Ember, yes," she wiggles her eyebrows, "Come on, your wail is boring as fuck as it is, why not spice it up?"

"I'm not wailing," Phantom scrunches his nose, "My throat will hurt for weeks."

Ember runs her fingers over the strings of her guitar, and it makes a comparatively quiet, vibrating sound. A few cords shoot out of the bottom of her instrument, like ones used to plug an electric guitar to an amp. She raises her eyebrows, still looking at Phantom, a silent conversation between them.

Then, the boy huffs and rolls his eyes, twirling a drumstick in his fingers.

"Fine."

The cords fly at him like snakes, aiming at his neck. None of the Leaguers watching the encounter get to say even a word as the metal pins insert themselves into the boy's neck, acting like some twisted kind of collar. Phantom doesn't even flinch.

Ember's guitar, on the other hand, reacts to the connection quite violently: it makes a high-pitched sound all on its own and then changes color from black and blue to white and green, with lightning bolts instead of flames for design. The girl's ponytail flares up higher as she softly murmurs in delight.

Then, she turns to the people around them and smirks, "Which way is the evil alien fleet?"

Flash wordlessly points his finger to the right and up. The girl nods in satisfaction, turning in the air so her guitar is facing that way.

"You might want to cover your ears," Phantom advises, a sly smile on his face and a glimmer of anticipation to his eyes. John Constantine follows that direction immediately, and, taking his move as the best course of action, the other heroes follow as well. Except Batman, who only narrows his eyes and looks at both teens in the air apprehensively. Phantom shrugs, "Or don't, I don't hold any responsibility for your shattered eardrums."

"Pick up where we left off, then," Ember tells him, and the boy blinks:

"Wait, I thought you'd just-"

[For some wholesome experience, put your headphones in and listen to 'KULT' by Jisaiah, grandson, and Steve Aoki]

But the girl has already started a tune, nodding her head to the rhythm of it and slowly picking up the pace. Phantom huffs, but doesn't protest any further, floating up as much as the cords allow him and spinning a drumstick in his hand.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

That the world's a fucking circus

That my life feels fucking worthless," he spits the words out with a sneer, slowly rotating in the air until he is hanging upside down. His eyes are closed, and his voice becomes more and more staticky with every new sound. The volume of Ember's guitar gets up, higher and higher, until the walls and the floor of the room around them start to vibrate.

Then, Ember's voice joins Phantom's, and the boy brings his drumsticks down on thin air, mimicking the moves. Only, even with the actual drums not there, the air around him ripples like they are, and they all can hear the beat.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

When it all comes crashing down

We'll see who's laughing," both kids pause, just for a beat, and Ember uses that split second to spin the volume knob to the max before strumming her guitar in one wide, sharp move.

"NOW!"

The sound wave is not only palpable, it's visible. A wave of toxic green ripples through the air, knocking everyone present - sans the two kids in the air - to the ground, and goes beyond. The screens on the walls flicker and turn off, sending sparks in the air, and the comms give off loud, screeching noises, and-

The following silence feels almost deafening.

Batman, unsurprisingly, is the first one to stand back on his feet and see a few of the screens come back online.

Just in time to see that same green wave of... sound? energy? power?.. decimate the entire fleet like a wet cloth over a chalkboard. One moment, the spaceships were there, and the next they are gone, wiped out of existence.

Ember laughs, leaning back and almost doing a backflip in the air.

"That was nice, dipshit!" She shoves Phantom in the shoulder, and the boy snorts, plucking the cords out of his skin and grinning.

"Yeah," he agrees with a smile, not even looking at the screens around, "Maybe we should try rehearsing in space next time. Sing to the stars and all that crap."

"Sing to the stars?" Ember raises her eyebrows mockingly as the rest of the heroes scramble to their feet, bemoaning their ringing ears. "Na-ah," she clicks her tongue and turns to Batman, "You still up for paying for our studio?"

The man just grunts in a semblance of affirmation.

"Sweet," the girl grins and offers Phantom a hand for a high five, which he returns instantly. "Cheers to the world being saved once again!"

The boy just rolls his eyes and turns to Constantine, "Next time, be a dear and text me before summoning, or I'm going to sell your soul to Morpheus, and who knows what he'll do with you."

John Constantine grimaces. "I did," he offers grudgingly.

But both unearthly teenagers are already gone without a trace.

[Edit: I want everyone to know there's ART now!!!]

[Edit 2: There's more art!!!]

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missadangel · 4 months ago

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MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 1: Blind Date

series masterlist next chapter

Summary: You work as a housekeeper in a rich family's mansion and often have to deal with their spoiled daughter. One day, she asks you to pretend to be her on a blind date with a guy her dad picked out for her. Your mission is to make him not like you so he won't want to marry her. But here's the twist: will Harry end up hating you, or could he actually fall for you? That's the real question. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Word Count: 4.8k for now, There will be a part two if you guys like it, but I'm not sure about the rest. Sorry for the poor writing; that was quick. authors note: I am not sure about his name. If there's any update, I will edit. English is not my native, so please be nice; this is my third fanfiction. Thank you for the reblogs, comments, and likes. Love you all!

"Ugh, this dress is so last season! Are you serious? Everything here is out of style—get rid of them! Call Elliot and have them send me another dress, or I'm going to be really pissed!"

As if tossed at you like a used handkerchief, another dress worth thousands of dollars—perhaps only worn once—landed in your hands. You sighed as you looked at the elegant dress you were now holding, the Gucci label glinting under the light.

"Story of my life," you mumbled.

Working as a housekeeper in a millionaire's house was hard enough, but dealing with his spoiled and ill-tempered daughter was exhausting. Yet you were determined that it would soon be over. You could no longer endure this physical and psychological torture. With the money you had saved, you planned to open your own restaurant—fulfilling your dream. You just needed to save a little more and hang in there a bit longer.

Your boss was a decent, kind man, but his daughter was so unbearable that every housekeeper assigned left the next day.

How do you even tolerate her?

Because you didn’t have the luxury of quitting and waiting for a new job. You were still young and trying to establish yourself in the business. The extra pay you received was simply to endure her antics. Your kind millionaire boss had even promised you all the support you needed, suggesting you could quit your day job and focus solely on managing his daughter’s affairs. But how could you have known it would be so challenging? Still, you managed to get through each day and believed you could endure this for just a little while longer. After all, you had survived three challenging years already, right?

The mansion was enormous, and everything inside was meticulously organized. Everyone—housekeepers, gardeners, cooks, and even the owners—followed a disciplined daily routine.

Except for the young lady of the house.

You never knew when she would wake up or come downstairs to join her family at the dinner table. She was stubborn, mean, and unpredictable, and you had to manage her behavior just as you managed her dresses, her dates, and her friends. Because you were responsible for her, there were times when you wished you could handle all the housework yourself and let someone else take care of her demands. Despite being just an ordinary housekeeper, your name was the one that echoed the most throughout this vast mansion.

Why?

Because the young lady constantly called on you to fulfill her never-ending requests. And it was one of those moments again. Since it was evening, you guessed she was probably getting ready for a night out at the club, and you felt a surge of annoyance as you rushed to her room.

"I can't believe I was a size 8 before starting this job; now I'm down to a size 6," you mumbled to yourself, quickly making your way up the stairs.

One of the cleaners dusting the vases in the hallway shot you a wink and let out a sigh. Man, you’d do just about anything to be in her shoes, just taking care of that vase!

As soon as you knocked on the door, the young lady Melanie opened it, pulled you inside by the arm, and slammed the door shut behind you. You were taken aback—had you made a mistake? It had only been two hours since you last saw her; you had picked up her clothes off the floor and taken them to the laundry room. She had seemed content, busy texting on her phone. What could have possibly happened in such a short time?

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your eyes wide. For some reason, she looked super tense and nervous.

“You’ve gotta help me,” she said almost desperately, which caught you off guard; it was pretty rare for her to ask for help like this, very rare.

“Of course, if I know what’s going on…”

“Remember that thing we did with the senator's son? I need you to do something like that again.”

You froze for a moment. She was referring to something you had helped her with before—something you weren't very proud of.

“Oh, but—” you frowned. “You said I’d never have to do anything like that again.”

Years ago, you had done your best to disguise yourself as Melanie to turn off the senator's son and prevent him from marrying her. It had worked, but lying to someone was a real headache. Thankfully, Melanie's father hadn’t suspected a thing, but the thought of risking it again felt scarier than anything else.

“I know, I know, but I’m in a tough spot. My dad has been speaking with a matchmaker again to arrange a match for me. After the scandal at the club last time, he's determined to marry me off for sure. Please, I need your help.”

How could she still act so childish in her late twenties? As she looked at you with those pleading eyes, memories of all the times she’d yelled at you and scolded you flashed in your mind. It was fine when you were more like her special assistant instead of just a housekeeper, but now it feels like you’re just a toy to her. When she wants to have fun, she plays with you—almost like you’re her little slave or something.

“I’m not here for that,” you said firmly. “That is not my job.” Your patience was running thin, and this was just too much.

“But you’re supposed to help me,” she shot back, stubborn as ever. “And it’ll be easier this time, I promise.”

You narrowed your eyes and said, “We got caught last time when the guy found out and cursed both of us. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? And if your father discovers what we’re up to this time…”

She replied with a grin, “We won’t get caught this time because I already sent them your photo instead of mine. Besides, you know how my father is strict about always having my picture removed from newspapers and magazines.”

“You did what?” you wailed.

“Chill, it’s all figured out. I’ve been working on this since last week. You’ll have dinner with the guy, pretend to be me, scare him off, and boom! He won’t want to hear my name again. Easy peasy!”

You rolled your eyes. “But he’s surely seen your photo somewhere; he can’t be that clueless.”

“No, he’s a very busy businessman. He has lived abroad for years and has just returned from France. He’s looking to set up his business here in New York,” she said as she opened her laptop and pulled up a webpage with information about the man. “It seems he’s also looking for a suitable match,” she continued, glancing at his photo and pursing her lips.

You froze when you looked at the photo; he wasn’t at all what you expected. He appeared to be a mature, charismatic, and intelligent man. But how could you sit opposite this man and pretend to be someone else? The thought made you shudder, raising the tiny hairs on the back of your neck.

“As you can see, he’s much older than me. I don’t think he’ll tolerate disrespect. If you’re disrespectful to him, he might get annoyed and just leave the table,” she said with a chuckle.

You laughed too, but for a different reason. You were sure that if she went to the meeting herself, he would get up and leave when he saw her personality.

“I think you should go; maybe he won’t like you,” you suggested.

She narrowed her eyes at you like she'd just caught you saying something crazy. “He won’t like me? Seriously?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder with a cocky grin. “Anyway, I can’t risk it. I don’t want to marry him or anyone else, and I definitely don’t want to be stuck in the same room with that old man.”

As if I want it so much, you thought.

“Come on, please do this for me! I promise I’ll be good; I won’t make you work too hard. I’ll ask Dad to give you a nice raise,” she said, clasping her hands together and trying to look cute.

Well, good raise would mean you could quit your job and bail out of here earlier, right? You crossed your arms and glanced back at the laptop screen, staring at the photo of that guy—Harry Castillo. You made a decision that you had no idea would change everything in both his life and yours.

“Fine. When’s dinner?” you said, feeling a bit anxious.

“Oh, you’re the best! I knew you couldn’t say no!” she said excitedly. “This Saturday.”

“But that’s only two days away,” you pointed out, feeling even more nervous.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you all set. Just make sure you displease him,” she grinned.

You sighed deeply, already sure you’d regret this choice.

“Don’t you think this dress is a bit… exaggerated?” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror.

It was an elegant burgundy dress—strappy, satin, and adorned with pearl details—the kind of designer item you could never afford, even if you worked your entire life.

“Am I trying to make him hate me or make him fall for me?” you asked, frowning.

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry; he’ll never fall in love with you,” she said arrogantly. This was typical behavior for her, so you chose to ignore it. “As much as you want to annoy him, remember that you represent me. I don’t want anyone gossiping that Melanie Johanson is wearing a lame dress,” she continued while picking out a matching purse.

“But everyone knows I’m not you, except that poor guy.”

“I don’t suppose you were planning to wear one of your own skimpy outfits,” she remarked. “Do you want our game to be exposed?”

That was too much—being scolded and being forced to do something so ridiculous for this spoiled girl.

“Fine, go to that dinner yourself then,” you said, slipping off your heels.

She grabbed your arms. “No, no, no, please. Okay, I’m sorry I was rude. But I need you; no one else would do something like this for me.”

“It’s good that you realize that,” you muttered.

“Here, take this; it’s time,” she said, giving you a smile.

Honestly, putting up with Melanie’s constant demands, cleaning up after her, and covering for her felt like child’s play compared to what you were facing tonight.

A nice raise, you keep telling yourself trying to soothe yourself. I’m doing this for my restaurant; I’ll get it started someday.

The restaurant was one of the most famous, expensive, and luxurious places in New York—somewhere you would never normally set foot in. But tonight, thanks to Melanie’s name, you could easily get in. You were overwhelmed by the incredibly polite behavior of the restaurant staff.

Melanie may have been extravagant and reckless, but she had thought of almost everything for tonight—from the driver who brought you here to the all restaurant staff.

All this effort was for one purpose: to rid herself of the matchmaker’s match.

When they took your fur coat at the entrance and told you that Mr. Castillo was waiting for you, you took a deep breath. After one step inside, when you saw him, you nearly backed away. Harry was busy on his phone, scribbling notes in his small notebook. He looked really sharp and stylish—way more handsome and appealing than in the photo.

Damn.

You wanted to escape; you wished to put an end to this nonsense before it even began. Without realizing it, your feet started to move backward. Just then, you turned around and accidentally bumped into the waiter behind you, causing him to drop the champagne glasses he was carrying on his tray. The glasses shattered, and champagne spilled all over his outfit. You cursed yourself for the mishap.

Before you could even respond, the waiter apologized. “No, it was my fault; I’m sorry,” you said nervously, trying to wipe off the champagne from his clothes.

The other waiter and the staff stared at you in shock.

Yes, you were a wealthy lady now, but what harm was there in being polite?

"No, ma'am, I should have been more careful," he said before turning and walking away.

"Miss Johnson?" said a soft, deep voice.

You turned around to meet him and felt almost breathless. There he was, few inches taller than you, with broad shoulders, curly hair, deep-set brown eyes, a sharp nose, and an attractive appearance.

"Melanie, right?"

"Y-yes," you stammered, batting your eyelashes.

And that smile! For a moment, the world seemed to stop; all the sounds in the restaurant faded, and you almost forgot why you were there.

"I'm Harry," he said, holding out his hand. It took you so long to look at his face that you nearly forgot to acknowledge his hand. He laughed again, that wonderful smile lighting up his face. "My hand has been waiting for a while," he said teasingly.

You felt your cheeks flush as you realized what he meant. "I'm sorry," you replied, quickly reaching out to shake his waiting hand. His hand was big and warm. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed. You knew you needed to work up the courage.

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “Shall we head to our table? Or do you want to stay here all night?”

“S-sure,” you said sheepishly.

Well, there wasn't much you could do about it. This wasn't just about him being wealthy or handsome. Even if it was a fake date, it had been years since you'd been on a date, and you didn’t know many men in your life.

Dinner was harder than you expected. Even though you and Melanie had practiced what you should and shouldn't say, your fears came to light. Harry seemed kind and understanding, and it was difficult to lie to him, which made you hate every minute of it. It got worse when he started grilling you with questions, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep up with this silly game.

When you excused yourself to go to the restroom, you called Melanie.

"What do you mean he hasn't left the restaurant yet?"

"I don't know; the conversation got a little long, and he kept asking questions about me, I mean you."

"Do something to make him hate you already!"

“But how? Throw wine at him? This is all ridiculous. I think we should just tell the truth.”

"Don't you dare!" she barked.

Her voice was so loud that you had to smile apologetically when the other women in the ladies room looked at you strangely, hearing your end of the conversation.

"What am I supposed to do? Our plan isn't working."

“What's up with this guy? He should’ve bailed by now.” Melanie grunted.

“He seems nice—I doubt he’d be rude like that.”

“Rude! That’s the ticket; just be rude enough that he can’t stand it.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yep, you heard me. Just be as rude as you can.”

You let out a sigh, really wishing you could just bang your head against the wall right now.

“I said do it, or you'll ruin everything. Call me when you’re done.”

“But what am I gonna— Hello? Darn it!”

Beep… Beep… Beep…

She hung up.

You’ll have to be rude, how wonderful! But she was right; you needed to get rid of this man for the night to end and for you to return to your normal life. Why did he have to be so nice and kind? If he could ever act like a jerk, you would have done it by now, but he was just too sweet. As you looked in the mirror, you thought of all the rude things a lady wouldn’t normally do. Ah, that sounds familiar; it reminds you of Melanie herself. The very thought of her actions made you smile nervously. You took a deep breath and left the restroom.

Encouraging yourself, you gazed at Harry's handsome face from afar.

You can do it, you can do it...

Your first move: act indifferent.

You changed your facial expression as you approached the table and deliberately looked away from his face. He was smiling warmly at you. No, you couldn't look at him; it would only complicate everything. You were about to apologize for being late, but no, you can’t. Instead, you pulled your chair noisily on purpose, scraping its legs on the floor to create an annoying sound. You sat down and crossed your legs, positioning your body so it wasn't fully facing him. Harry seemed surprised by this sudden shift in your mood, but he didn’t comment.

A little later, as your desserts were served, he looked at you, “I like chocolate cake too, especially with pistachio sauce. We have similar tastes,” grinning at you.

You looked at him and then at the waiter. “I don’t want this,” you said angrily.

“But ma'am, you ordered it,” the poor man replied sheepishly.

“I’ve changed my mind,” you said. “I’ll go with the tiramisu,” you added after a quick look at the menu, making sure to glance away casually.

“Sure, I’ll change it right away,” he said, taking your plate and walking back.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“I’m great,” you lied, forcing a fake grin.

He didn’t ask any further questions, but he seemed to suspect something had changed. When the waiter brought your dessert, you decided to eat it rudely. You were sure Harry would be disgusted as you devoured your dessert quickly and rather rudely as if you were starving. You didn’t look at him again until you finished your plate. When you finally glanced up, your stomach feeling a bit nauseous, the look on his face was not what you had expected. He was smiling at you admiringly.

What the hell was that?

Shouldn’t he have shown disgust or displeasure, just like the people at the next table who were staring at you with disdain?

But not Harry, not him. Why, God, why?

As if teasing you, he laughed and reached for a napkin on the table, wiping the remnants of dessert from the corner of your lips. “You’ve got quite the sweet tooth, don’t you, sweet girl?”

How could he be so nice, even after everything?

“Want to eat mine too?” he joked again. Clearly, you were amusing him instead of grossing him out. Ugh, just what you needed. Why was this so hard?

“It’s the cream in it,” you said, a bit defensive. If you were going to get into a battle of words, you might as well dive in.

When he looked at you, confused, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope. Maybe you could annoy him with your gourmet knowledge.

“The Marsala wine is in the cream; it’s a secret recipe,” you said, trying to sound smart.

Harry paused eating his dessert, rested his elbow on the table, and gave you an admiring look. “Interesting. I didn’t know you were into cooking. That wasn’t in the info.” That familiar warm smile was back.

Crap. Another mess-up.

“I get it—you’re keeping it under wraps from your dad. I want you to feel comfortable talking about your hobbies when you’re with me.”

When you’re with him? Damn, that was supposed to be the first and last time you saw him. You started playing with your fingers in your hair out of nervousness.

Think, think, think. All you had left was to use the only card you had.

“Look, Harry, I’ll be frank. I don’t plan to see you again.”

Suddenly, he stopped. “Didn’t you like me?” he asked softly.

Was it possible not to like this man? But damn it, you had to lie. You looked away; it was hard to read his expression.

“You’ve probably heard about me from the tabloids. I’m not the type of woman to get attached to just one man. My father put me up to this matchmaker thing; I didn’t intend to.” You admitted this indirectly. He deserved a little honesty, didn’t he? “I’ve had and will have many men in my life. I don’t plan to get married. I mean, you’re not special. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

When you looked at his face timidly, you realized you got the reaction you had been waiting for since the beginning of the night. His smile vanished; his expression hardened, and the color of his eyes darkened.

But why did your heart squeeze when you should have felt relieved?

When they brought your coat, you thanked them and turned to Harry for the last time. You would probably never see him again. You felt fortunate to have had the chance to meet and get to know this man, even briefly. He would probably forget you anyway; why would he remember you?

“Can I give you a ride home so we can end things on a good note?” he asked, sounding a bit unsure.

You definitely didn’t see that coming. You paused, trying to figure out what to say. It would’ve been easier to just say no, but his eyes were so mesmerizing that if he’d asked you to spill all your secrets right then, you might have done it without even thinking.

“Sure,” you replied, feeling shy.

When the valet brought Harry's car around, your jaw dropped. This black, late-model Mercedes Benz S was probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Your interest in cars stemmed from your childhood; your mother always complained that you didn't like dresses and jewelry like other girls—rather, you liked cars. It was clear you were different, and you had always been that way.

Just like the situation you found yourself in now. Maybe there was something wrong with you.

The two of you were silent the entire ride. You didn’t look directly at him, but you could feel his gaze on you out of the corner of your eye. However, you were more captivated by the interior of the car. When would you ever get to ride in such a luxury vehicle again? It wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look. As you glanced towards his side to check out the control panel and see how much horsepower the car had, he caught your eye, causing you to quickly turn your head away. You had to suppress your curiosity.

"We’ll turn right here," you said as you approached the junction. Down the street, the giant mansion loomed, so close to your destination. You stole a quick glance at him, realizing this might be the only time you would see this man in person. You wanted to remember his handsome face.

Suddenly, Harry slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt. Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at him, startled that he had stopped so abruptly near the mansion. What had caused him to suddenly halt? He didn’t say a word, just stared at you, and his eyes seemed to communicate something intense. Was he angry and no longer wanting your company?

You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle, only to find it locked.

“Stay still,” he said as he unlocked the car doors.

What was he implying? He walked around the front of the car, reached your side, and opened your door.

Was this chivalry? If so, why did he stay away from the mansion?

“Aren’t you getting out?” His voice was kinda cold.

You didn’t know how to respond. You stepped out of the car without saying a word.

“Thanks for the ride—”

Suddenly, he grabbed your arm—not roughly, but with a firm, questioning grip. His gaze was intense, but why did he look that way? Had he figured it all out? Maybe he was about to confront you for making a fool of yourself. After all, you had been willing to be open, and now you felt you deserved it. But you didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes, so you lowered your head.

“You were lying, weren’t you?”

Shit.

You swallowed hard; this was the moment you had dreaded.

“I-I…”

What were you going to say? How would you even say it?

You were fucked.

Suddenly, Harry pinched your chin with one hand, forcing you to look at him while his other hand rested on your waist. He tilted his head toward you, his hot breath brushing against your face, making your heart race. His lips were dangerously close to yours, and you could feel your throat going dry. What the hell was he going to do? Kissing you or scolding you? After what felt like an eternity, he pulled you closer by the arm around your waist and kissed you.

It had been a long time since you kissed someone, so you were almost shocked by his sudden kiss. No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself, you finally closed your eyes and surrendered to him completely. Your surrendering gave him courage and he deepened the kiss, his hot tongue licking your lips and forcing them apart. While his expert hand lingered on the swell of your breasts teasingly, you moaned and opened your mouth for him and when his tongue touched yours, you could still taste the chocolate from the dessert he had just eaten.

But suddenly, Harry pulled his head back, breaking the kiss and all contact. Instinctively mesmerized, you leaned forward, eyes closed and mouth agape. When you finally opened your eyes, you caught him snickering, and as the embarrassment of the situation hit you, you wished you could disappear. You instinctively pressed your hand to your burning lips and pressed hem together. Harry licked his lips and grinned. "Just as I predicted. You lied to me. There's no way another man has touched you recently."

For a second, your mind went blank, and you just stared at him, blinking in confusion. What the heck did he mean by that? "Y-you... w-what..." Great, now you couldn't even put together a simple sentence.

What next?

Just then, your phone started ringing. When you opened your purse to get it, Harry reached for it before you could. Fortunately, you had saved Melanie in your phone under a special nickname, not her real name. Harry laughed, raising his eyebrows in surprise and amusement. "Trouble?"

Yes, you had saved her as trouble.

"Can you hand my phone back, please?" you said, holding out your hands, but he caught them with one hand and gently pushed them away.

“Your trouble can wait,” he said, rejecting Melanie’s call. He dialed a number on your phone, but realized what he was doing when his own phone started ringing.

“There, now you have my number,” he said, handing your phone back to you.

You frowned and grabbed your phone angrily, "What makes you think I’d actually call you?"

Harry shrugged, pursing his lips. “Shouldn't I call you before I come to pick you up for our next date? I guess I could just come by your house and honk the horn instead.”

“What?” you exclaimed.

He grinned.

You took a deep breath to release some of your tension. “Harry, why are you doing this? There won’t be a next date; I told you that.”

“One chance,” he said firmly.

“A chance of what?”

"I want you to give me a chance. A real date. If, at the end of the night, you still feel the same way, I promise you’ll never see me again."

You shook your head. "But why? You’re a man who can have any woman you want. You’re rich, handsome, and kind—why waste your time on someone who doesn’t want you?"

You saw something in his brown eyes, something you couldn’t quite identify, but it was intense. “Because you're different from others,” he said sharply. “True, women are not unattainable for me; they are always around. But what I want is someone special, and I feel that you are the one. There’s something about you that has ignited something in me I haven't felt in a long time. I must admit, I'm surprised; I never thought I’d be attracted to you after reading the news about you, but it seems I was wrong. Can you give me a chance? Please?”

Oh, Harry, there’s so much you don’t know, you thought. Your heart was fluttering at the thought of saying yes, but how could you? How dare you? You weren’t Melanie, the daughter of a wealthy businessman; you were just an ordinary girl.

“You know I won’t leave without hearing your answer, right?” He grunted.

Just then, you heard a car approaching, and you freaked out. That was Melanie’s dad’s car. Your heart nearly stopped.

“You have to go, like, now!” you yelled in a panic.

“First, say yes,” he replied, frowning.

"Si, yes, okay, alright! But please, go now!" you urged, pushing him toward the back of his car. He chuckled in response.

You crouched down to hide your face as the other car drove toward the mansion and pulled him down with you.

“I want you to know I’ve never done anything like this in my life,” he admitted, snickering.

“Is that so funny?” you snapped.

"Okay, I get that you don’t want your dad to see us like this, and I’m curious why, but since you said yes, I’ll be a good guy and leave."

“Yes you do that,” you said with a sigh.

Harry took his phone out of his pocket and waved it before getting into his car. “You’d better answer it when I call,” he said, getting inside. He winked at your puzzled expression and started the engine. His car quickly disappeared from sight along the road. You turned toward the mansion, exhaled deeply, and murmured to yourself.

“I'm so fucked.”

thanks for reading, likes, comments, reblogs are appreciated ❤️

#fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal fanfiction #the materialist #harry castillo #materialists #harry castillo x reader #randy castillo

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 1 year ago

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50 Character Personality Traits + Meanings (For writers, worldbuilders, and artists) Part 1

Adventurous - Enjoys trying new experiences and exploring the unknown.

Ambitious - Driven to succeed and achieve their goals.

Analytical - Tends to think critically and examine things in-depth.

Artistic - Highly creative and expresses themselves through artistic mediums.

Assertive - Confident in expressing their thoughts and feelings.

Caring - Shows compassion and concern for the well-being of others.

Charismatic - Has a natural charm and appeal that draws people in.

Clever - Able to come up with creative solutions and make astute observations.

Compassionate - Displays empathy and a desire to help those in need.

Confident - Believes in their own abilities and is self-assured.

Conscientious - Reliable, responsible, and attentive to detail.

Curious - Eager to learn new things and explore the world around them.

Cynical - Tends to be skeptical and distrustful of others' motives.

Dependable - Can be counted on to follow through on their commitments.

Determined - Persistent in pursuing their goals and overcoming challenges.

Diplomatic - Skilled at navigating social situations and resolving conflicts.

Eccentric - Displays unconventional or unusual behaviors and interests.

Empathetic - Able to understand and share the feelings of others.

Ethical - Guided by a strong moral compass and a sense of right and wrong.

Extraverted - Enjoys being around people and draws energy from social interactions.

Flexible - Adaptable to changes and open to trying new approaches.

Forgiving - Willing to let go of past hurts and give people second chances.

Friendly - Approachable and enjoys building positive relationships with others.

Grounded - Practical, down-to-earth, and focused on the present.

Hardworking - Diligent and dedicated in their efforts to achieve their goals.

Honest - Values truthfulness and integrity in their words and actions.

Idealistic - Driven by a vision of how the world should be and a desire to make a difference.

Imaginative - Possesses a rich inner world and creative problem-solving abilities.

Independent - Prefers to think and act for themselves without relying on others.

Indecisive - Struggles with making decisions and often second-guesses themselves.

Introverted - Finds energy and fulfillment in solitary activities and introspection.

Jealous - Experiences feelings of resentment or insecurity towards others.

Kind - Gentle, considerate, and thoughtful in their treatment of others.

Leaders - Able to inspire and guide others towards a common goal.

Logical - Approaches problems and decisions through a rational, analytical lens.

Materialistic - Highly values the acquisition of possessions and wealth.

Organized - Maintains order and efficiency in their personal and professional life.

Perfectionistic - Strives for flawlessness and can be overly critical of themselves and others.

Pessimistic - Tends to focus on the negative aspects of situations and expect the worst.

Resilient - Able to bounce back from setbacks and adapt to changes.

Risk-taker - Willing to take chances and step outside of their comfort zone.

Sarcastic - Uses irony and witty remarks to convey their thoughts and feelings.

Sensitive - Deeply affected by the emotions and experiences of themselves and others.

Stubborn - Unwilling to change their mind or compromise on their beliefs and opinions.

Suspicious - Inclined to doubt the motives and intentions of others.

Thoughtful - Considerate of the impact their words and actions have on others.

Timid - Shy, reserved, and hesitant to take risks or assert themselves.

Trustworthy - Reliable, honest, and worthy of confidence.

Unpredictable - Displays an element of surprise and spontaneity in their behavior.

Witty - Possesses a quick, clever, and humorous way of expressing themselves.

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

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eliisiconic · 9 months ago

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How to manifest your desired face:

*This is the most popular topic, so i made this to clear up some questions you might have or struggle with.*

Manifesting your ideal face Can be frustrating sometimes, why? Well you Always encounter the mirror, and it Can get you very demotivated and you might think that there's no movement or doubt the Law.

But let's simplify LOA Real quick-

1. Decide: decide what kind of face you want, it Can be mixed or just the ideal face you want.

2. affirm: making an affirmation that you feel comfortable to repeat for example "i already have my desired face" "i look exactly like xyz!"

3. persist: being stubborn and faithful to your assumption, you Always return to your assumption/imagination regardless of what the 3d shows you. For example: you still see the same old face in the mirror, before reacting, you affirm that you have your desired face.

That all you gotta do.

But here's the Real question →

Why the 3d is still showing me my old face?

Duh 😒 didn't we ALWAYS Say that you shouldn't take the validation from the 3d? The 3d won't EVER give you your desired face if you focus on it.

The 3d will Always shows you your current assumptions, if you keep saying that you don't have your desired face, well Guess what? Yeah duh you will still see your old face.

But we need to fix that, we need to stop this repeating cycle.

YOU ALREADY HAVE YOUR DESIRED FACE! IT IS DONE!

The second you decided that you have your desired face, you have it in 4D.

Done deal.

There's nothing for you to do now, just to persist in the assumption that the fact you already have that desired face of yours.

And the 3D will catch up on and will reflect your 4D, IF you keep fulfilling yourself and accepting the imagination as the true reality.

I cannot stress this enough when i say that the 3D is just a mirror, a dead reality, without imagination, it nothing but a dead reality, what you're experiencing right now is because you imagined it first then it was being reflected into the physical reality.

"B-but Eli i can't ignore the 3d when it is in front of my face😞"

Yeah i know it is difficult but let me tell you.

YOU DON'T NEED TO IGNORE THE 3D!

Just know it will change cause you literally decided that you already have your desired face, you know it is done, creation is finished, you already have your desired face in your 4D and the 3D have no choice but to reflect it!

"but Eli i'm done seeing my ugly face!"

I know it is hard when you are Always in front of that mirror, but beer with it for a while, keep saying positive affirmations, keep affirming that you look exactly like your desired face! I know it will feel Weird and uncomfortable at first but you will get used to it with Times.

"but Eli when i see those pretty girls on tiktok i feel so insecure and i wish to be them😢"

Girl, instead of saying that, when you see a pretty girl on tiktok just Say "oh my god! She's so pretty! But i'm prettier than her, that obviously🙄💅🏻" or "this girl is so pretty like me!".

Affirm against any opposite thought, you're clearly telling your subconscious every single day and reminding it that you DO have your desired face and you're already pretty.

How to know that i'm living in the state of the wish fulfilled?

You won't give a single Fuck to the 3d, you know you already have your desired face so you won't give a single Fuck to what the 3d throw at you.

You'll feel an immense calmness and you'll feel like you already own/ have that desire, it will start feeling natural.

You know it is a done deal, you already have your desires so you'll be unconcerned about what happening in the physical reality, no matter what the 3d throw at you, you KNOW that you do have your desires in the 4d.

People saying your ugly? The Fuck girl? Can't you see my beauty? I'm literally the prettiest.

Seeing pretty girls and feeling insecure? Gurll i'm literally prettier than them, they wish to have my face.

Still seeing your old face in the mirror? Gurl i literally have my desired face, i looks exactly like xyz.

See how it is easy? You just need to be disciplined.

If you really want your desired face, then be that stubborn mf and manifest that perfect face of yours.

Now go and make that change, you'll thank me later😌.

Xoxo, Eli

#law of assumption #loa tumblr #loa #loa blog #law of manifestation #how to manifest #loassumption #void state #4d reality #affirm and manifest 🫧 🎀✨ ִִֶָ ٠˟#affirm and persist

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cbeargyu · 3 months ago

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I hate and need him so much !!

summary: you and beomgyu are the top students in your university’s music program—but that’s the only thing you have in common. constantly clashing over leadership and vision, your rivalry is infamous across campus. but when a heated late-night argument over your final project spirals out of control, you both cross a line neither of you can walk back from. tension turns to obsession, and hate becomes the hottest kind of desire...

pairing: enemy!beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: enemies with benefits, smut, angst, college au, slow burn, toxic dynamics, musical rivalry.

warnings: explicit sexual content, strong language, toxic dynamics, public tension, dominance & submission themes, rough sex, mentions of physical aggression (non-violent), mutual degradation, possessiveness, slight exhibitionism, slight humiliation, dirty talk, praise kin, overstimulation, begging.[18+ ONLY MDI]

wc: 5,94k

notes: my tiktok is flooded with beomgyu videos + beomgyu in those photos... I'm thinking... 🫦💦

you’ve never met someone as fucking insufferable as choi beomgyu.

you’re top of your class in music theory and composition. sharp mind, sharper tongue, perfectionist to the bone. and unfortunately, so is he. same major, same year, same goddamn classes—and ever since first year, you’ve been stuck in this sick, twisted competition that neither of you ever agreed to, but neither of you can let go of either.

he’s loud. smug. sarcastic. every time he opens his mouth, it’s like he’s begging you to punch him. he thinks he’s the most brilliant mind to grace the university halls and you? you’re just a stubborn little brat who got lucky with a few good scores.

you, on the other hand, think he’s a cocky little shit with too much talent and zero humility. a show-off. a provocateur. someone who gets under your skin just for the thrill of it.

and worse, he knows it.

“i don’t know how the fuck you got the leader position,” he says, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back against the piano like he owns the place. “but if you keep running this project like this, we’re all going to look like idiots.”

you’re standing near the whiteboard, marker still in your hand from the rehearsal plan you were setting up. you were already exhausted—it’s late, your head’s pounding, and everyone else already left the music room because they knew this was coming.

you and beomgyu. again.

“then don’t be part of it,” you snap, glaring at him over your shoulder. “no one’s forcing you to stay.”

“you’re unbelievable,” he scoffs, pushing himself off the piano and walking closer. “you act like you know everything. like your way is the only way. but guess what? newsflash—this isn’t high school anymore, princess. not everyone’s going to kiss your ass.”

“fuck you,” you hiss, dropping the marker and turning to face him fully now.

“oh, that’s rich.” he laughs—short, bitter, mocking. “you can’t handle being challenged, huh? the second someone calls you out, you throw a fit.”

“you’re not ‘challenging’ me, you’re being a fucking asshole,” you step closer too now, chests nearly touching. “you think just because you play guitar and write edgy lyrics, you’re some kind of genius?”

his jaw clenches. “i am a fucking genius. unlike you, i don’t treat people like shit to feel superior.”

“no, you just think you’re better than everyone and talk like you’re god’s gift to music.”

“keep pushing me, sweetheart,” he growls, eyes narrowing. “see what happens.”

and maybe it’s the hour. or the pent-up rage. or how his breath is hot against your lips now, because neither of you moved away.

maybe it’s the way your heart’s been racing around him since the first semester, and you’ve been too fucking proud to admit it.

but when he grabs your wrist, pulling you flush against him, and your mouths crash together in something that’s not a kiss, not yet—more like a war—you don’t stop it.

you kiss him like you’re trying to shut him up. he kisses you like he’s trying to make you forget your name.

it’s teeth. it’s tongue. it’s bruises forming before either of you even start taking clothes off. his hands are gripping your waist like he’s waited years for this, and your fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling hard, like you want to hurt him and fuck him at the same time.

you gasp when his lips leave yours, only to trail down your neck, biting hard enough to make you whimper. your back hits the wall behind you with a dull thud, and you’re too far gone to care if anyone hears.

“still think you’re in control?” he mutters against your skin, voice low, mocking, laced with heat.

“fuck you,” you spit, breathless.

he grins. that goddamn grin.

“yeah?” he grabs your chin, tilting your face so you have to look at him. “then why are you fucking shaking for me, bitch?”

you slap him.

not hard enough to hurt. just enough to sting.

his smirk drops for a second—and then he laughs, low and wild, before grabbing your wrists and slamming them above your head.

“god, you’re such a brat,” he growls. “always running your mouth, always trying to act like you’re better than me. but here you are, letting me pin you like a fucking slut.”

“go to hell,” you snap, squirming against him.

he leans in, presses his mouth to your ear. “after i’m done with you.”

he kisses you again—hard, possessive, angry. his hand slides under your shirt, up your ribs, dragging slow just to hear you breathe harder.

“take this shit off,” he says against your lips, tugging at your shirt, and you don’t hesitate.

the air is cold, but his hands are hotter than sin. they roam, greedy, rough, like he wants to memorize every inch of you just so he can ruin it.

“beomgyu—” his name escapes your mouth in a shaky moan when he sucks a bruise right beneath your collarbone.

“what, bitch?” he mutters, pulling your bra down like it’s in his way. “you like that? you like when i touch you like this?”

you don’t answer. your pride won’t let you.

so he smirks, teeth flashing. “still pretending you hate me?”

you glare. “i do.”

he chuckles darkly. “then hate me with your legs around my waist.”

and you do. you hook your legs around him as he lifts you off the floor, grinding into you, cock already hard through his jeans and pressed right against where you need him most.

“fuck,” you whisper, head falling back.

“yeah,” he breathes, mouth trailing down to your chest. “that’s what i thought.”

his fingers find the waistband of your pants, tugging them down with a sort of impatient frustration that makes your whole body ache. he kisses down your stomach as he does it, slow only to torment you.

“been dreaming about this,” he mutters. “ruining that smart little mouth of yours. showing you who really runs this fucking class.”

“keep talking,” you pant, “and i’ll bite your tongue off.”

he laughs again—low, dangerous.

“you’re such a bitch,” he says. “and you’re gonna let me fuck you anyway.”

and you do.

you don’t know how you ended up half-naked on the piano bench, legs spread, his mouth buried between your thighs like he’s starving.

maybe it was the way you clawed at his shirt like you wanted to rip his skin off. maybe it was how he shoved you down with a growl, like he couldn’t stand another second without tasting you.

either way, you’re too far gone to give a fuck.

“fuck—beomgyu—” you choke out, fingers tangling in his messy hair.

he groans into your cunt, licking you slow just to hear you whimper, then fast just to fuck with you. his hands are bruising your thighs, holding you still like he’s scared you’ll run.

“you’re loud now,” he says, voice muffled against your skin, “but in class you act so fucking high and mighty.”

“shut up—” your voice cracks when he flicks his tongue over your clit, again, again, again.

“no,” he growls, looking up at you with spit and you all over his mouth. “you don’t get to shut me up. not when you’re moaning like a little toy.”

you reach down, grabbing his jaw, pulling him up to kiss him hard—tasting yourself on his tongue, nails dragging down his back.

“you’re fucking disgusting,” you whisper against his lips.

he bites your bottom lip, just enough to make you gasp. “and you love it.”

you do.

you hate him. but you want him so bad it’s making your head spin.

when he finally unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out, thick and flushed and leaking, your mouth goes dry.

“don’t stare like you’re impressed,” he teases, pumping himself once. “you act like you’re not dying for this.”

you glare, then smirk. “i’ve had better.”

“is that so?”

he grabs your hips, pulls you to the edge of the bench, and slams into you without warning.

your whole body arches.

“fuck—!” you cry out, nails digging into his arms.

he doesn’t give you a second to adjust. doesn’t slow down. he fucks you like he’s punishing you for every word you’ve ever thrown at him, every smug look you’ve ever given.

“better than this?” he grits out, snapping his hips harder. “you’re dripping, you fucking liar.”

“shut up—”

“nah. say it. say who’s fucking you this good.”

“go to hell,” you growl, grabbing the back of his neck, dragging his mouth to yours.

he kisses you like he wants to bruise your soul. you kiss him like you want to rip his heart out.

“fuck, you feel good,” he groans against your mouth. “tight little cunt acting like she doesn’t need me.”

you moan. you hate that he’s right. that your body’s betraying you, clenching around him, begging for more.

“fucking bastard,” you hiss, throwing your head back when he hits that spot deep inside you.

“say it again,” he pants, pounding into you. “call me every name you want, i know you’re close.”

“pathetic, arrogant, loud-mouthed little shit—” you gasp, legs shaking.

“that’s right,” he growls. “cum for me, fucking hate me while you do it.”

you do.

you fall apart under him, clenching around him so tight he swears and grabs your waist like he’s losing control.

and a second later, he’s cumming too—deep inside you, jaw clenched, eyes shut, letting out a low, broken groan of your name like it physically hurts.

the room’s silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing.

he collapses against you, forehead resting on your shoulder.

you push him off.

“we’re not doing this again,” you mutter, standing up and adjusting your clothes.

he smirks, still breathless, watching you like he already knows better.

“we’ll see, sweetheart.”

he’s been staring at you like he wants to kill you since class started.

arms crossed, jaw clenched, foot tapping like a fucking metronome of rage.

you ignore him. or try to.

but when professor kim announces your proposal will lead the ensemble showcase, and not his—oh, the way his eyes meet yours. burning. hateful. hungry.

you smirk, just to piss him off.

after class, you don’t even make it out the door.

“come with me,” he snaps, grabbing your wrist, dragging you through the empty hallway before you can protest.

“fuck off, beomgyu—”

he pushes open an empty rehearsal room and shoves you inside.

you spin on him. “what the fuck is your problem?!”

“you are,” he growls, slamming the door shut. “fucking show-off. always need to win, huh?”

you scoff. “maybe if your idea hadn’t been shit—”

he grabs your face and kisses you so hard your back hits the wall, again.

and you let him.

because you’re both too far gone now.

you kiss him back, biting his lip, tugging his hair like you’re trying to hurt him—like you want him to hurt you back.

his hands are everywhere. under your shirt, gripping your waist, yanking down your pants without a word.

“so fucking full of yourself,” he mutters, yanking your underwear down roughly. “bet you soaked your panties the second you saw me lose.”

you slap him again.

he just grins. “hit me harder if you want, baby. i know you like it rough.”

you grab his belt, undoing it fast. “shut up and fuck me.”

“say please.”

“fuck you.”

he shoves you against the wall, lifts your leg, and thrusts in—raw, fast, brutal.

you cry out, hands slamming against the wall for support.

“god—fuck—beomgyu—”

“that’s right,” he pants, pounding into you like he wants to erase your fucking mind. “say my name. say it like you mean it.”

your moans echo through the empty room. it’s reckless. loud. stupid.

anyone could walk in.

and maybe that’s why it feels so good.

“you look so pretty when you lose control,” he growls, biting your neck. “not so smug now, huh?”

you clench around him, mouth open in a silent moan.

he hisses. “you’re close.”

“no—shut up—i’m not—”

“liar,” he snarls, fucking you deeper. “you’re so wet i can feel you shaking.”

“piece of shit—”

“say it again.”

“fuck you—”

“you are.”

he grabs your face again, kisses you hard, and you break—cumming around him with a cry you can’t hold back.

he follows seconds later, groaning against your mouth, cock twitching inside you as he spills himself deep.

you both freeze.

silence.

then—footsteps outside the door.

your eyes widen.

he smirks.

“we should do this more often.”

he’s pacing in the classroom like a storm trapped in four walls. jacket thrown on the floor, hair a mess, frustration radiating off of him.

“i just don’t get how you always win,” he spits, glaring at the floor.

you raise an eyebrow, calm, bored. “because i’m better.”

he whips around. “fuck you.”

you smile. “you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

his breath catches. just for a second. and you see it.

that crack in his anger. the want under all that pride.

you stand, walking slowly to him.

“what’s wrong, gyu?” you murmur, dragging a finger up his chest. “you mad because you lost again? or because you can't stop thinking about how good i made you feel last time?”

his jaw tightens. his eyes drop to your lips.

“i hate you,” he says, but his voice is already shaking.

you hum. “lie better.”

and then your hand slips between his legs, cupping him over his jeans—slow. gentle. cruel.

he gasps. you feel how hard he is already.

“fuck—don’t—” he tries to step back.

you press your body into his, pinning him to the wall.

“don’t what?” you whisper against his ear. “don’t touch you? don’t make you beg?”

he whimpers.

actual whimpers.

“please…”

you grin.

“look at you,” you whisper. “so hard just from me teasing you. you want me that bad?”

he nods, red-faced, biting his lip.

“use your words, baby.”

“please,” he whispers, breathless, “please touch me. i need it. i need you.”

you pull back slightly, watching him.

he drops to his knees.

and that’s when your power hits him full force.

beomgyu, the cocky bastard, the arrogant top of your class, on the floor, looking up at you like you’re his fucking god.

“say it again.”

“please…” he swallows hard, pupils blown wide. “i need you to touch me. to use me. i’ll do anything. just—just don’t stop.”

you sit down on the chair, legs spread.

“come here.”

he crawls between your legs without hesitation.

you grab his jaw. “good boy.”

his breath stutters.

“can i… can i taste you?” he asks, voice so low and wrecked you barely hear it.

you smirk. “you can try.”

after he buried his face between your thighs, you had to muffle your moans with your hand, desperate not to cry out. but it was pointless—the university was already empty, and anyone left wouldn’t dare come near that classroom with the way the air practically sizzled around you.

you should’ve left right then, should’ve played it safe. but the heat between you was too much, too consuming. so instead, you stumbled out together, breathless and shaking, and made it back to your apartment—ready to finish what you never should’ve started in public.

“you’re so pretty when you cry,” you murmur, dragging your fingers down his chest.

he’s panting, cheeks flushed, wrists tied to the bedpost with your silk scarf. thighs trembling. body covered in marks from your mouth.

his cock is red, leaking, twitching.

“please,” he chokes out, voice wrecked. “i-i can’t—please let me come—”

you tilt your head. “already?”

you’ve edged him three times now. never letting him finish. always pulling away just when his moans start turning desperate.

“you really are weak, aren’t you?” you coo, wrapping your fingers around him again, slowly, cruelly.

his head falls back with a loud whimper. “fuck—yes, i am, i am—just for you—”

“look at you,” you murmur, stroking him torturously slow. “the same guy who told me he hated me. now you’re begging like a good little slut.”

his whole body jolts.

you lean closer, lips brushing his ear. “you like it when i talk to you like that?”

he nods frantically, eyes glossy. “yes—yes, please—more—”

you tighten your grip, pace quickening.

“you like being mine?”

“yes—yes, i’m yours—only yours—please don’t stop—”

“you’re not gonna come yet,” you whisper. “not until i say so.”

he sobs, hips jerking, trying to chase the friction. “please—please, i’ll do anything—i’ll be so good—just let me—”

you straddle him.

his eyes widen.

you don’t even have to say anything—he’s already moaning.

“you wanna come inside me, baby?” you whisper, dragging your folds over his aching tip, not letting him in.

he’s shaking. “please, please, i need to, i need to—i’ll be good—fuck—i’ll make you feel so good, i swear—just let me—let me—”

you slide down onto him all at once.

his scream is broken. his whole body arches.

“thank you—fuck, thank you—” he babbles, clutching the headboard with white knuckles.

“you’re so deep,” you moan, starting to ride him, slow and heavy. “you feel so good when you shut up and take it.”

he’s sobbing now. overwhelmed. blissed out.

“gonna fill me up?” you whisper, kissing his jaw. “gonna come like the good little boy you are?”

he nods, barely able to speak. “yes—yes, please—please—can i—please—”

“do it,” you growl in his ear.

he breaks.

he cries out your name, cumming so hard it makes his entire body shake, eyes rolling back as he trembles under you. it doesn’t stop—he keeps twitching, breathless, whimpering, completely ruined.

you don’t stop moving.

his eyes widen in panic.

“w-wait—too much—i can’t—”

you just smirk.

“you said you’d do anything, baby. don’t disappoint me now.”

you barely step inside the third-floor bathroom before you feel it.

the shift.

he’s already there, waiting — back against the wall, eyes on you like he’s been planning something. calculating. hungry.

but this time… he doesn’t look shy.

he doesn’t look desperate.

he looks like a fucking storm.

you close the door slowly, a smirk playing on your lips. “someone’s eager.”

he doesn’t answer.

he just pushes himself off the wall, takes three steps forward, and corners you against the door. his body flush against yours.

his voice is low, dark.

“you think you’re in control, don’t you?”

you blink, caught off guard.

“you think you can tease me in front of everyone, make me sit pretty and beg for you like a fucking toy,” he growls, gripping your chin, tilting your head up. “but you forget something, babe.”

his breath is hot against your ear.

“you want this just as bad as i do. and you’re not as untouchable as you act.”

you scoff, but it dies in your throat when he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, the other sliding down your waist and under your skirt like he owns every inch of you.

“gonna prove it,” he murmurs, kissing your jaw, then biting down harder than he should. “gonna fuck the brat out of you.”

“you’re dreaming if you think—”

“shut up,” he snaps, shoving his knee between your legs, forcing them open. “you had your turn. now it’s mine.”

your breath catches when he drops to his knees, yanks your underwear down and presses his mouth right where you need him. no warning. no build-up. just pure, messy heat.

you whimper, trying to squirm, but his grip on your thighs is brutal. “stay fucking still.”

he eats you like he’s starving.

like this is punishment.

like he wants to ruin you.

and he does — slowly. with groans that vibrate against your core. with tongue strokes that make your knees buckle. with lips that suck until you're gasping, trembling, begging—

“beomgyu, i’m gonna—”

he stops.

just like that.

you cry out in frustration, but he stands and shoves two fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself.

“you don’t get to cum yet,” he smirks. “not until you say it.”

you glare at him, trying to keep whatever pride you have left. he leans in, lips brushing yours.

“say you need me.”

you don’t.

you won’t—

he grabs your hips and slams into you so hard you choke on your breath.

you almost scream, biting your hand to stay quiet as he fucks into you like he’s trying to destroy you. like he wants you sore. shaking. marked.

“say it,” he demands again, slamming deeper. “say you fucking need me.”

“fuck—i need you,” you gasp, losing it. “i fucking need you, okay?”

he smiles, dark and satisfied.

“good girl.”

and he keeps going.

you swear you black out a little when you finally cum, legs wrapped around him, walls clenching so tight he nearly loses control. but he doesn’t. he keeps going, overstimulating you until you're crying into his shoulder.

when he’s done, he pulls out, breathing hard, eyes glazed.

you’re a mess — flushed, dripping, lips bruised, hair wild.

he zips up, fixes his shirt, then grabs your jaw again.

“next time you wanna play boss,” he whispers, “remember who actually makes you fall apart.”

and then he’s gone — just like that.

leaving you shaking against the door, breathless, ruined.

it’s late. everyone’s gone, except for you and beomgyu. you both stay back to finish up the final arrangements for the project. the studio is dim, the only light coming from the desk lamps and the soft glow of the instruments scattered around the room. a low hum of the sound system mixes with the quiet shuffle of papers as you go over the details. you’re too focused, too determined to let anything distract you. not even him.

but he’s watching you.

you feel it before you see him. his eyes on you, the way his gaze lingers too long, too intense. he’s not the quiet, obedient beomgyu you’re used to. no, tonight, there’s a shift in the air, something darker, something that makes your heartbeat quicken.

you look up at him. he’s standing near the piano, leaning against it with his arms crossed, his usual casual look replaced by a more dangerous edge. his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed in that way that makes your pulse race. his voice is rough when he finally speaks, cutting through the silence.

“you’ve been ignoring me all night,” he says, the words low and biting. “like i don’t fucking matter.”

you raise an eyebrow, setting your pen down slowly. “i’m busy,” you say, voice steady, though there’s a hint of something else in it. something that shows you know exactly where this is headed.

“busy?” his lips curl into a sneer as he pushes off the piano, taking a slow step toward you. “you were too busy when i was begging for your attention. and now… now you’re too busy to notice how badly i want you.”

the words hit you like a shockwave, and your breath catches. but you stand your ground. “and what do you want from me, beomgyu? you really think you can just—”

“shut up,” he growls, closing the distance between you in an instant. his hands grip your hips, pushing you back against the desk. the suddenness of it has you gasping, your breath hitching in your throat. “i’ve had enough of you acting like you’re in control. you’re not. not tonight.”

his hands slide up your waist, pinning you against the desk, and the heat between you is undeniable. you try to fight it, but you know—you know—you’re not going anywhere. he’s stronger. he’s in charge now.

he lifts you effortlessly, his fingers digging into your thighs as he spins you around, his lips brushing your ear as he presses his body against yours. “this project’s been a fucking joke, but i’m about to show you who’s really leading this.”

you shiver at the feel of his hot breath on your skin. you try to push back, but he’s already got you where he wants you. his hands roam over you like he’s starved, hungry for every inch of your body.

before you can react, his lips crash onto yours. the kiss is aggressive, desperate. his tongue pushes into your mouth with no warning, like he’s claiming you, taking you without hesitation. you moan into it, your own hands finding purchase on his shirt, tugging him closer.

he breaks the kiss with a growl, his lips trailing down your neck, nipping at your skin as his hands begin to strip you down. he’s rough, unrelenting, as if he’s been holding back for too long. and now, now he wants to punish you for making him wait.

“tell me,” he whispers, his fingers tugging at your shirt. “tell me you want me. say it, and i’ll give it to you. all of it.”

you swallow, trying to keep your composure. you’re not going to give him the satisfaction that easily. but beomgyu’s hands are everywhere—on your chest, your waist, pulling you closer until you can feel the hardness of him pressing against your stomach. you can’t deny it. you want him. god, you want him so badly. but you won’t admit it that easily.

“fuck you,” you spit out, pushing at his chest, though your body betrays you, grinding against him involuntarily.

beomgyu smirks, completely unphased. his eyes darken, and he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear again. “you will, bitch. you’re going to beg for it.”

suddenly, he spins you back around, shoving you against the desk once more. he’s fast, too fast for you to react, and before you can even think, he’s pulling your skirt up, exposing you. his fingers are already there, teasing, stroking over your sensitive skin with slow precision.

“tell me you want it,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust. “say it.”

you close your eyes, breathing hard, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as you feel him push against you. his movements are slow, torturous, his teasing driving you crazy.

“please…” you mutter, barely audible, but he hears it. that’s all he needs.

“good girl,” he says, his voice dark with satisfaction. “you don’t get to hold back anymore. not when i’m in control.”

then, he’s inside you. deep. hard. he doesn’t give you time to adjust, doesn’t give you time to breathe. the desk rattles under the force of his thrusts, your body rocking with each movement. his hands grip your hips, slamming into you with ruthless precision, fucking you like he owns you.

you cry out, your fingers digging into the desk, but he doesn’t care. he just keeps going, taking what he wants. you’re powerless against him, lost in the rhythm of his hips, the relentless pace he’s setting.

“tell me you need me,” he demands, his breath hot against your neck as he fucks you harder. “say it. now.”

“fuck,” you gasp, unable to stop the words that spill from your lips. “i need you, beomgyu. i fucking need you.”

his grin is wicked, satisfied. “good. now you’re mine.”

and he pushes you to the edge, pushing harder, faster, until you come undone. your body shakes with the force of your orgasm, your fingers gripping the desk so hard you’re sure it’ll leave marks. and even when you think you can’t take anymore, he doesn’t stop. he keeps going, fucking you through it, until you’re begging for mercy.

your legs are shaking, but he doesn’t stop.

beomgyu grabs your arm, spinning you around again, his lips dragging down your neck, your collarbone, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. “did you think i was done with you?” he mutters, voice dripping with dark amusement. “we’re just getting started, baby.”

he lifts you like you weigh nothing and carries you to the worn leather couch in the corner of the studio. he drops you onto it and spreads your legs without hesitation. you don’t even have time to catch your breath before he drops to his knees and buries his face between your thighs.

“oh fuck—beomgyu—” your voice cracks as his tongue licks a long, slow stripe up your core.

his hands grip your thighs tightly, pinning you open as he devours you like he’s starving. he sucks, licks, flicks his tongue in maddening circles, then flattens it against your clit until your hips buck off the couch.

“taste so fucking good,” he growls, voice muffled against your wetness. “you gonna cum on my mouth, baby?”

you whimper, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “shit, yes—fuck—don’t stop—”

but he does stop. the bastard smirks up at you, lips wet, eyes burning. “nah. not yet. i want you ruined when i’m done.”

before you can curse him out, he’s pulling you up, flipping you over. your knees sink into the couch as he grabs your waist, angling your ass up. you barely manage to breathe before he’s slamming back into you from behind.

“fuck!” you cry out, your voice echoing off the walls. the angle is brutal, perfect. you’re melting, unraveling around him, every thrust punching the air out of your lungs.

“you hear that?” he pants, fucking you hard and fast. “that’s the sound of your pussy getting absolutely wrecked.”

you can barely answer, but your body responds—arching into him, pushing back, greedy for more. he grabs your hair, yanking your head back so he can whisper in your ear.

“you love this, don’t you? getting fucked like a little slut. look at you—can’t even talk, just taking my cock like you were made for it.”

you moan, dizzy from the filth spilling out of his mouth and the relentless way he’s driving into you.

then he flips you again, pulling you on top of him as he falls back onto the couch. “ride me,” he commands, hands gripping your ass. “show me how much you fucking want it.”

you don’t hesitate. you sink down onto him, both of you groaning at the contact. your hands grip his shoulders as you start to move—slow at first, then faster, grinding down as he thrusts up to meet you. the friction, the heat—it’s too much. you're bouncing on him like your life depends on it, tits bouncing, eyes locked on his as you both fall apart.

“fucking ride me, just like that. shit—look at you,” he groans, his head falling back, his fingers bruising your hips. “so fucking tight, fuck—gonna cum if you keep that up.”

you’re right there with him. you’re shaking, sweating, losing control. your climax builds like a tidal wave, and he knows. He feels it.

“you gonna cum, baby? gonna cream all over my cock like a good little slut?”

“fuck yes—yes—beomgyu—!” you scream as your orgasm crashes over you, your whole body convulsing as pleasure rips through you.

he follows right after, grabbing your hips, slamming you down onto him one last time as he spills inside you with a raw, guttural moan. you collapse on top of him, both of you panting, sweaty, ruined.

the studio is silent again, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall and the lazy hum of the soundboard. you’re both still half-naked on the couch, skin slick with sweat, catching your breath. beomgyu’s chest rises and falls beneath you, his fingers lazily tracing shapes on your bare back.

“you look fucked out,” he murmurs, smirking against your temple.

you hum, eyes closed. “that’s because you fucked me out.”

there’s a beat of silence. and then he chuckles—low, dark, dangerous. “not yet...”

before you can respond, he’s flipping you over again, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, his body hovering over yours.

“beomgyu, what the fuck—” you start, but he cuts you off with a kiss so filthy, so consuming, it leaves you gasping.

his voice is gravel when he pulls back. “you think i’m done with you? you really think that was enough?” his knee parts your thighs again, sliding between them, pressing right where you're still throbbing. “you’re dripping for me, baby. don’t even try to lie.”

you arch into him involuntarily, and he grins like he owns you. “god, you’re fucking desperate. like a little cum-drunk slut.”

he lets go of your wrists and slides down your body, dragging his tongue along your stomach, your hipbone, your inner thigh—until he's right where you need him again. he spreads you open and stares, admiring the mess he made of you.

“fuck, look at you,” he growls. “so wrecked. so perfect.”

then his mouth is on you again. this time, it’s not teasing. it’s relentless. his tongue fucks into you, circles your clit, sucks until you're writhing, crying out, begging.

“please—please, fuck—”

but he doesn’t stop there.

he stands, wiping his mouth, then grabs you by the waist and drags you to the edge of the couch. “on your knees,” he orders, voice rough. “hands on the floor. ass up.”

you obey without thinking—your body knows what it wants now. you feel his hand grip your ass, spreading you wide, and then the thick head of his cock pressing back inside you.

he grabs your jaw suddenly, fingers sliding between your lips, forcing them open. “open up,” he growls, his voice low and demanding. you moan around his fingers as he shoves them deep into your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue. “suck,” he commands, and you do—eyes fluttering shut, lips wrapped around his fingers like it’s instinct.

“that’s it, baby. just like that,” he murmurs, pulling them out slick and glistening, only to trail them down your body—between your thighs—before lining himself up again. “now i’m gonna fuck you nice and deep, just how you like it. don’t fucking run.”

he bottoms out in one thrust.

you scream.

“yeah, that’s right,” he pants, thrusting deep and hard. “let them fucking hear you. let everyone know how good I fuck this tight little pussy.”

the position hits everything. his hand wraps around your throat from behind, pulling your body up as he fucks you like an animal. it’s filthy, raw, and fucking perfect.

“say it,” he demands. “say you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” you gasp, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. “i’m fucking yours, beomgyu.”

he growls, slamming into you harder, faster, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the studio. “damn right you are.”

and then he flips you over one more time—flat on your back this time, legs over his shoulders as he pounds into you, eyes locked on yours like he wants to watch every second of you coming apart again.

“you’re gonna cum for me again, baby,” he says between ragged breaths. “you’re gonna soak my cock, and then i’m gonna fill you up again. you want that?”

“fuck, yes—please—do it—”

that’s all it takes. your orgasm hits like a damn freight train, your whole body seizing up as he keeps thrusting, watching you shatter beneath him.

and when you cum, crying his name, he loses it.

he buries himself deep, groaning as he spills inside you again, hips twitching, body shaking. and then he collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for air, completely, utterly wrecked.

you lie there in silence, your body trembling from overstimulation, your mind fuzzy with pleasure.

“you’re not leaving this studio tonight.”

after a long moment, he strokes your back lazily and mutters, “next time you ignore me, i’ll fuck you right on top of the damn mixing board.”

you laugh breathlessly, still trembling. “i dare you.”

“oh, you will, sweetheart,” he smirks, voice low and dangerous. “you fucking will.”

“we’re not leaving this studio tonight.”

890 notes · View notes

https-tim · 23 days ago

Note

hey! loved your writing ♥️♥️ may I ask for... feminization? I know it sounds a bit weird....

thank you so much, anon!! ♡ and it's not weird at all, not to me at least! i was actually hoping someone would ask for this since i'm a huge fan of this kind of stuff lol. anyways! enjoy!

tim drake x male reader

# SUMMARY: tim’s being a brat. you fuck it out of him.

⁺ MDNI

⁺ WC: 2000+

# TAGS: +18 explicit content ／ top male!reader ／ reader has a cock ／ bottom!tim ／ feminization ／degradation ／ brat!tim ／dirty talk ／cockdrunk tim (sorry not sorry) ／ words like pussy and cunt being used to describe tim's anatomy ／slight breeding kink ／ subspace, i guess ／objectifying ／ rough anal sex ／creampie ／overstimulation .ᐟ

He should’ve been limp, ruined, completely out of his mind…

But you knew Tim Drake — and you knew exactly how stubborn he could be.

Even with your cock still buried inside him, his hole red, puffy, fluttering, leaking mess from the two full loads running vulgar trails down his toned thighs, his whole body trembling from being used until his legs simply gave out — he still had the nerve, the audacity, to try and talk back.

To be a brat.

“You know…” His voice was absolutely wrecked, raspy, but somehow still sharp. His arms stayed wrapped tight around your neck, dragging you closer. “For someone who kept running his mouth about putting me in my place... You kinda suck at it.”

You blinked. Slowly. Not fully believing what just came out of that boy’s mouth.

“...What did you just say to me?”

Tim smiled, face flushed — smeared with the black mascara he used under his mask — and dried tears. Sweat clung to his skin, like a melting painting.

“You heard me just fine.”

Your hands gripped his hips tighter, feeling your control wobble inside of your being. “Oh. Oh. So that’s how you wanna play it, huh, princess?”

“Maybe...” He batted his lashes in fake innocence — an act you knew very well — but his hips pressed down, grinding against your cock as if he's daring you. And he was. “What are you gonna do about it, babe?”

You let out a low, sharp laugh, pulling out completely — hearing his broken, breathy whine at the sudden emptiness — before flipping him onto his stomach like he weighed nothing. “Oh, Tim… You have no idea what you just did.”

His arms wrapped tight around the pillows beneath him, face buried into them down to his nose, trembling with anticipation.

Oh no. You weren’t letting him hide like that after winding you up.

Your hand grabbed straight into his raven, damp hair — soft but messy from earlier — pausing only to stroke through it once before fisting a handful, yanking his face to the side. Your other hand latched back onto his waist, dragging a needy, whiny sound from his throat, positioning him in the filthiest angle possible — his back, deep arched off the bed, presenting every inch of that ruined, messy hole of his.

You didn’t wait another second — and shoved your cock right back in, pushing through the hot, wet mess of his cunt, already swollen and dripping with your cum. You sank in slow, just to make him feel every single part of you entering.

Tim gasped, loud, body jolting as you bottomed out, cock pressing so deep inside him it punched the air from his lungs. His lips twitched into a broken little smile. Still bratty. Still mouthing off. “T-That’s... All you’ve g—”

SLAP.

Your palm crashed down on one cheek, the skin blooming a bright red under your hand, heat radiating instantly. His entire body jolted, almost collapsing forward.

“F-Fuck—!”

“Oh yeah? Mouthy little thing, aren’t you?” Your hand came down again, even harder on the same spot, forcing him to arch back into it, clenching deliciously around you. “Talking back while you’re like this — dripping, begging for it.. When this stupid messy pussy’s already been fucked full twice. You’ve got some fucking nerve, princess.”

“Y-You�� You hit like a— like a fuckin’ b-bitch...” he panted, breath hitching, but grinding back against you anyway, as wanting as ever.

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re gonna regret saying that.”

You pulled almost all the way out — tip barely inside — before slamming back in, deep, hard, punching the air out of him, leaving him choking on his own spit and breath. His fingers went pale from how tightly he clutched the pillows.

“H-Holy shit! W-Wait—f-fuck—”

“Nah.” Your fist yanked his hair back, forcing him to meet your eyes. “My pretty girlfriend wants attention, doesn't she? Then take it. Take everything like the spoiled, little bratty princess you are.”

Tim’s moans shot up in volume, spilling into desperate, broken sobs. Every thrust knocked what little was left of his sanity further out of him. The sound of your skin slapping against his, the wet, obscene noise of your cock destroying his sloppy entranced echoed shamelessly around his room.

His neglected cock bounced uselessly between his legs, red and leaking, untouched, dripping against sheets already ruined by his own precum.

It was hypnotic. The most perfect, filthy thing you’d ever seen.

“Look at this. Look at you. So wet. Pathetic. All that attitude, but this dumb pussy still grips me like it was made for this.”

“S-Shut up...” he whimpered.

Another sharp slap — this time on the other cheek, leaving it just as red, just as hot. Tim cried out, trembling violently.

Was it pain? Was it pleasure?

He didn't even seemed to care anymore.

“Oh, you want me to shut up?” You grabbed his hair again, dragged his head back until you could growl into his ear, voice low, cruel. “That’s real rich coming from someone who loves getting used like a fuckin’ toy. You’re my needy little cumdump, aren’t you, Timmy? That’s all you are, baby girl. Just a pretty little hole for me to ruin until you’re begging me to stop.”

“N-N—Not... I'm not...” he whimpered, voice cracking into something soft, desperate. His thighs twitched, spasming — his body betraying him as his cunt squeezed tight, fluttering, begging for more.

“Oh, aren't you?”

Your hand slid from his hair to his throat, pressing just enough to make his head spin, fingers squeezing the sides to cut off just enough air.

“N-n—no... ngh...” His voice broke, biting his lip until the taste of metal spread across his tongue.

“Then what do you call this, honey?” You slammed right into his prostate, stayed there, grinding deep, letting him feel every inch. His cry was wrecked.

You didn’t move. You waited. Waited until his trembling hand weakly started slapping against your bicep — his pathetic little signal that he needed you to move. To give him more.

“Needy, huh?” Your cock dragged almost all the way out, watching as his pussy clenched down, sucking, trying to keep you. “See that? Even this dumb little cunt knows it’s just a hole. It doesn’t wanna let me go.”

“Shut up—shut up—!”

“No, baby.” You hauled him upright against your chest, palm squeezing his throat, the other forcing his legs wider. “Not until you admit it.”

“I... I won’t...” His voice shattered — barely a whisper now.

“Oh, you will.” Your hand slid down to his neglected cock, fisting the base, jerking him, smearing the drool of precum over his length, all while slamming deep into that same spongy spot inside him. “Say it. Tell me what you are.”

“F-Fuck you—” His sob broke into a gasp — his cunt clenching so tight it made your own vision blur.

“I’m already fucking you, baby. Fucking you stupid. You’re melting for me, my pretty little girl. Just a hole to breed. Just a messy little thing to fuck until there’s nothing left of you.”

His legs buckled — his body collapsing against you, head lolling back on your shoulder, blue eyes glassy, makeup ruined, lips trembling.

You could feel it. He was right there — breaking.

“N-No—... I’m—”

“Say it, Tim.” You growled, thrusting slower, meaner, holding him still, keeping him right on the edge. “Say it, baby. C’mon.”

“F-Fuck—Shit—I... I’m just a—” His voice hitched, throat squeezing, cunt milking you desperately. “I’m just a—just a needy little hole—!”

“Louder.”

“I’M JUST A NEEDY LITTLE HOLE—!”

“That’s right.” You snarled, slamming back in, fucking him harder. “My perfect little hole. My beautiful princess. Good for nothing but for taking my cock and being treated like a girl. You fuckin’ love it, don’t you, Timmy?”

“YES—Yes—fuck—I love it—I love it so much—!” he sobbed, choking on it, babbling nonsense as his cunt spasmed, squeezing you like his body didn’t know how to let go.

You wrapped your hand around his jaw, dragging him into a messy, desperate kiss — tongues sliding, biting his lip until he whimpered. The moment you did, his cock twitched helplessly in your palm and — he came again. The third time that night. Just a few weak drops, barely anything left.

But his body didn’t care.

You let him collapse face-first into the pillows, still buried deep inside him, watching the trembles rack his body.

“I knew it.” you whispered, pressing possessive kisses to his sweaty shoulder.

Tim trembled like a leaf, face streaked with ruined mascara, lips puffy, red, so very perfect. His thighs shook, his poor, sloppy cunt twitching around your cock like it still wasn’t enough.

You throbbed inside him.

And of course — he felt it.

Over his shoulder, eyes bleary, he whispered breathlessly, “Y-You... You didn’t even fill my pussy again... like you said you would...” His hands slid to his thighs, spreading himself open for you, showing off how your cock was still buried deep, how messy, how stretched, how full he already was. “P-Please..”

God. He couldn’t barely move anymore. Couldn’t work his hips — he just laid there, open, waiting.

“Jesus, Tim,” You gasped, grabbing his hands, pinning them to his thighs. “Look at you, sweetheart...”

“H-hhn... J-Just... Fuck me.. Give i-it to me..”

So you did.

You started moving again — fast, deep, brutal — fucking him with everything you had left. The filthy, wet, obscene sounds filled the room instantly, skin slapping, your cock punching back into that sloppy, ruined hole like it belonged there.

Tim let out a noise straight from his throat — raw, desperate, something between a moan and a sob, something completely visceral. His pussy was overloaded, still dripping from everything you’d pumped into him already — and yet it still fluttered around you like it wasn’t anywhere near done.

His pretty hands — long, delicate, so perfect — trembled where you pinned them to his own thighs, holding himself wide open for you, giving you the best view imaginable.

“Oh—fuck—ohfuckohfuck—” Tim whimpered, his voice muffled by his own lips — biting them again to hold back the noise. “It’s—f-fuck—it’s too much... so full—”

“Aww, baby...” You hissed through your teeth, feeling the way his cunt spasmed tighter, trembling, clenching, like it never wanted to let you go. “My girl’s cockdrunk... how precious.”

“Nnh—uh, uh—” He shook his head, denying, crying — but his body betrayed him. His hips rocked back, desperate to meet your thrusts, chasing it like a drug. “N-Not... f-fuck...”

“Oh, darling...” Your hands cupped his ass, squeezing, fingers digging into the plush, bruised skin. You started spanking him again — soft this time — each slap making him jolt, whimper, clench. “You love this. Love having my cock splitting your pussy open like the dumb little toy you are. You love getting stuffed full of my cum like the perfect little cumdump you are, don’t you, Tim?”

“I—” His voice trembled, tiny, broken. “I—I love it... fuck... I love it so much... I wanna—wanna be f-filled with your cum...”

“Of course, you do.” Your nails dug into his hips, wishing the marks could stay there forever. “My perfect girlfriend. My baby. Just a dumb little thing that loves being stuffed full and bred, huh?”

Tim’s whole body trembled — his teeth sinking into the pillow again to stifle the filthy, wrecked sounds spilling out of him. All you could hear now were his desperate, muffled whimpers, the broken “uh-uh-uh” gasping from his lips every time you pounded back into him.

His hips were moving on their own — or trying to — tiny little circles, pathetic attempts to grind against you, to meet your thrusts, to take even more. Like his entire life depended on being filled.

“Sh-Sho—” His voice came out slurred, scrambled, his mind clearly broken. “S-Sho good...”

You pressed your chest to his back again, mouth by his ear, biting his earlobe hard, then licking over it, voice dropping into something cruel and loving at the same time. “You hear that, baby? Hear how wet you are? Hear how filthy this pretty pussy sounds when I ruin it? ” You kissed the top of his head, inhaling the smell of sweat, sex, and his expensive shampoo. “Next time, I’m making you ride me even after dumping three loads in you. Bet you won’t even be able to stay upright, princess.”

“Y-Yeah—uh—wanna— wanna make you... cum inside... again...” Tim wasn’t even coherent anymore. His words were a broken mess of nonsense between sobs and moans, completely strung out on cock and desperation.

“Fuck, Tim...” You laughed breathlessly. “How the fuck did I land a girl like you? You’re perfect. Made for me. Made to keep my cock warm.”

You felt it — the way he tightened. That signature squeeze. The way his body convulsed when he came. His whole frame curling in, pussy clamping down so tight you thought you might black out. You knew — you knew — his cock hadn’t even gotten hard again. He was cumming from nothing but getting fucked out of his mind.

“F-fuck—! I’m—I’m cumming—again—!”

“I know, baby. I can feel it.” You drove yourself into him, so deep it felt like you could split him open. One final slap to his ass, then your arms bracketed his head, caging him in. “Keep squeezing me like that, honey. Keep milking me. That’s all you’re good for. Just a tight little hole for me to dump my cum into. That’s all you are, pretty girl.”

Tim nodded frantically, whining, begging, “P-Please... please... Fill me again...”

“Look at you,” you growled. “Acting like a brat earlier — and now look where you are. Crying. Begging. Just a messy little fucktoy for me to use. My princess...”

It didn’t take long — not with how his cunt clamped down, how sweet he cried for it, how his body begged for it. Just a few more rough thrusts and you broke — shoved yourself as deep as you could possibly go, buried to the hilt, cock pulsing, spilling another load deep inside him.

Tim whimpered when he felt it. Couldn’t even scream anymore. Just this tiny, broken sound — so small, so wrecked.

His cunt was stuffed. Overflowing. Cum leaking around where your cock stretched him wide, pouring down his thighs, staining the ruined sheets beneath him.

But you didn’t pull out. Not yet. No — you laid down beside him carefully, pulled him into your chest, cock still buried inside, keeping him plugged full like you promised.

“S-So full...” he whispered, voice barely there.

You wrapped your arms around his trembling body, fingers pressing into his stomach, feeling how round, how full it was. Your lips peppered kisses into his sweaty nape, down his neck, tasting salt and sex and him.

“A-ah... I-I... W-Want...—”

“Shh...” You silenced him, brushing his hair back, tucking the strands behind his ear. “It’s okay, princess... You don’t need to do anything. Just rest, okay? I’m keeping this pretty pussy full ‘til you wake up, baby.”

Tim nodded. Slowly. Eyes fluttering closed, completely wrecked.

Completely yours.

⋆ please do not repost or translate my stuff. if you enjoyed, please reblog or leave a like ⋆ drawing by @ noodles-and-tea

#tim drake #tim drake x male reader #red robin #tim drake x you #m!reader #x male reader smut #https tim #tim drake fanfic #x male reader #tim drake x y/n #top male reader #male reader smut #tim drake imagine #ask request #https-tim

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d1stalker · 11 months ago

Text

I Want You [Logan Howlett]

Summary: Logan is jealous of you and Scott's friendship, not knowing your true feelings.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ only please. fem/afab!reader. brief argument, logan being stubborn comme d'hab, making out, oral, riding, you get the idea ;)

WC: 2.9k - MASTERLIST

The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the X-Mansion grounds. You find yourself on the patio, leaning against the railing, watching as the last rays of sunlight dip below the trees. The tranquility of the moment is soothing, a brief escape from the chaos that often fills your days.

Your mind drifts to earlier that day, when you and Scott had been working together in the training room. He's always been a good friend—someone you can rely on when you need advice or a steady hand in a crisis. Scott had patiently helped you fine-tune your abilities, offering encouragement and constructive feedback.

"You're really getting the hang of it," Scott had said with a smile as you both took a break, sitting on the edge of the training mat. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks, Scott," you had replied, grateful for his support. "Couldn't have done it without your help."

He had shrugged, a modest grin on his face. "We make a good team. It's nice to have someone who gets it, you know?"

You had nodded, feeling the warmth of genuine friendship between you. Scott was like the brother you never had, someone who understood the challenges you faced and never judged you for them.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching breaks your reverie. You recognize them immediately—Logan.

"You and Summers seem to be gettin' pretty close."

You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow at his accusatory tone. "Scott? We're just friends, Logan. You know that."

He crosses his arms over his chest, scowl deepening. "Doesn't look like it from where I'm standin'."

Frustration bubbles up inside you, and you can’t help but let it spill over. "And where exactly are you standing? Lurking in the shadows, jumping to conclusions?"

His eyes narrow, jaw clenching. "I'm just callin' it like I see it."

"You don't see anything," you retort, matching his intensity. "You're too busy looking for problems that aren't there."

He steps closer, his presence imposing but familiar. "I see the way he looks at you."

You roll your eyes, exasperated. "And how do I look at him, Logan?"

"Like he hung the damn moon," Logan mutters, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.

"That's rich coming from the guy who's too stubborn to see what's right in front of him," you snap back, heart pounding.

He pauses, taken aback by your words. "What do you mean by that?"

You take a deep breath, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you. "I mean, I'm not in love with Scott. I'm in love with you. But you're too busy being jealous and stubborn to notice."

He blinks, surprise flickering across his features. His defenses falter for a moment, and you see the real him beneath the rugged exterior. "Me? Why the hell would you—"

"Because you're you, Logan," you interrupt, voice softer now. "You're gruff and infuriating, but you're also brave and kind. You see through the facade I put up, and you make me want to be better."

He looks at you, his hardened exterior cracking. "I thought I wasn't good enough for you,” he says, quietly.

You step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. The contact is electric, as always, grounding both of you in the moment. "You don't get to decide that for me. I've made my choice."

He stares at you, a mix of disbelief and longing in his eyes. "All this time... and I was just bein' a damn fool."

"Yeah, you were,” you say with a smile, the tension between you dissipating.

Logan lets out a low chuckle, the sound warm and genuine. "Guess I should apologize for actin' like a jerk, huh?"

You nod, teasingly. "That would be a good start."

He takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that makes your heart race. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I was stupid, and I let my jealousy get the best of me."

You smile, feeling the last remnants of your anger melt away. "Apology accepted, but you're gonna have to make it up to me."

Tthe familiar glint returns to his eyes as he smirks. "Oh, I will. Count on it."

A comfortable silence falls between you. The night air is cool and refreshing, and you can hear the distant sounds of laughter from inside the mansion.

"Why didn’t you ever say anything?" Logan asks, his voice quieter now, almost tentative.

"I guess I was scared," you admit. "Scared of ruining what we have, of pushing you away. You’re not exactly easy to read."

He chuckles softly. "Yeah, well, you're not the only one who’s scared. I’m not good at this...feelin’ stuff. Always thought it’d get in the way."

"It doesn’t have to," you say, hoping your words convey the sincerity you feel. "You don’t have to do this alone, Logan. We can figure it out together."

He nods, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You share a moment of quiet understanding. For once, there’s no need for words. You both know what this means.

"Come on," Logan says suddenly, breaking the silence. "Let’s get outta here for a while."

"Where to?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he shrugs. "Anywhere but here. I hear there’s a nice little spot by the lake where the stars look like they’re close enough to touch."

You laugh, "Alright, lead the way.”

---

The walk to the lake is peaceful, the cool night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The sound of your footsteps on the gravel path blends with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. You and Logan walk side by side, your fingers occasionally brushing against each other, only feeding the tension that seems to be growing as each moment passes.

When you reach the lake, the water shimmers under the starlight, a breathtaking view that makes you catch your breath. Logan finds a spot on the grassy bank, and you settle down beside him, lying back to gaze up at the sky.

"It's beautiful here," you whisper, feeling the tranquility of the moment seep into your bones.

Logan nods, his gaze fixed on you instead of the stars. "Yeah, it is."

His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, grounding you in the reality of this moment.

You tilt your head up to look at him, meeting his eyes. There's a softness there that you haven't seen before, a vulnerability that makes your heart swell. "I've wanted this for a long time, Logan."

He smiles, a rare and genuine expression that lights up his features. "Me too. Guess I was too stubborn to admit it."

You chuckle softly, reaching up to trace your fingers along the line of his jaw. "I like this side of you."

He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he's not careful. The world around you fades away as Logan leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It's slow and tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but quickly deepens into something more urgent and heated.

You shift closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly as his hand slides up your back, pulling you even closer. Your fingers weave into his hair, anchoring yourself as the kiss intensifies, leaving you breathless.

Breaking away briefly, his forehead rests against yours as he catches his breath. "You sure about this?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You nod, your own breath coming in short gasps. "Absolutely."

With a growl of approval, Logan captures your lips again, the kiss filled with a hunger that leaves you dizzy. He shifts, pulling you with him as he rolls onto his back, guiding you to straddle his hips. His hand traces down your side, sending shivers of anticipation through you. The world around you feels distant and unimportant, the only thing that matters is the man with you and the way he makes you feel.

As the kiss deepens, you lose yourself in the moment, the passion and intensity of it all consuming you. Slowly, you rock back and forth, grinding your hot core against his growing bulge. Something akin to a growl releases from his throat, as his hands tighten their grip on you.

Breaking the kiss, Logan trails his lips down your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses along your skin. You tilt your head back, allowing him to continue his journey, savouring the sensation of his mouth against you. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt, pausing to look up at you. With deliberate slowness, he slides your shirt up and over your head, discarding it with a flick of his wrist. He takes a moment to admire you, his hands tracing the curves of your waist with a gentle reverence.

“Wow,” he breathes, his voice rough with emotion. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

His eyes roam over you appreciatively, lingering on your bare skin. His words and gaze make your heart race and heat flood your cheeks.

“Says you,” you murmur, feeling a heady mix of vulnerability and desire under his gaze.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers, flipping you over so you’re now on your back as he hovers above you. “I’ve thought about this moment more times than I can count.”

He begins to kiss the valley between your breasts, hands never ceasing their exploration of your body. Your grasp finds the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest. Your fingers trace over his muscles, delighting in the way they ripple beneath your touch.

Logan grins, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he moves even lower, his kisses trailing down your stomach. Each touch is electric, leaving a path of heat in its wake. His fingers find the waistband of your pants, slowly sliding them down your legs. With your pants discarded, Logan settles himself between your thighs, his hands gently parting them to make room for himself. His touch is firm yet gentle, and you shiver in anticipation as he leans in, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin.

He starts with soft kisses along your inner thighs, teasing you with his lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth. The feeling sends a thrill through you, making your heart race and your body ache for more. Finally, Logan focuses his attention on your centre, his mouth moving with expert precision as he tastes you. The first touch of his tongue is like fire, a sensation so intense that it steals your breath away. You gasp, your hands finding their way to his hair, anchoring yourself to him as the pleasure begins to build.

He works you with a practiced ease, his tongue tracing patterns that have you arching into him, seeking more of the exquisite sensations he’s giving you. He alternates between gentle flicks and firmer strokes, finding a rhythm that leaves you trembling beneath him. Your soft moans and gasps fill the night air, mingling with the sound of the lake and the distant rustle of leaves. Logan responds to your every sound, adjusting his movements, his sole focus on drawing out your pleasure.

As the tension coils within you, winding tighter with each deft movement of his tongue, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release. Logan senses your impending climax, his efforts doubling as he brings you closer and closer to the brink. With a final flick of his tongue at your clit with gentle, firm pressure, he pushes you over the edge, sending you spiraling into ecstasy. The world dissolves around you as the waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

Logan stays with you through it all, his touch gentle and reassuring as you come down from your high. He presses a soft kiss to your thigh before moving back up to lie beside you, gathering you into his arms as you catch your breath. “Logan,” you whisper, feeling a warmth that’s more than just physical spreading through you.

He smiles, a satisfied, tender expression on his face as he brushes a stray hair from your cheek. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

You shift slightly, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The sight of him, hair tousled and eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and desire, stirs something within you. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

Responding eagerly to your initiation, the kiss deepens as your hands explore each other with a renewed sense of curiosity and hunger, as if he didn’t just make you finish with his mouth. You push him gently onto his back, straddling his hips as you trade positions once again, trailing kisses down his chest, savoring the way his muscles tense under your touch.

Your hands make quick work of his belt and jeans, tugging them down to reveal the hard length of him. He’s beautiful. Logan’s breath hitches as you take him in your hand, stroking him with a slow, deliberate rhythm that draws a low groan from his lips.

You lower yourself further, your lips and tongue exploring every inch of him, tasting and teasing until his hands are tangled in your hair, guiding you with a mix of urgency and need. The sounds he makes, the way he reacts to your touch, only spurs you on, and you take him deeper, reveling in the way his body responds to yours.

“Darlin’,” Logan rasps, his voice strained with pleasure, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You smile against him, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, the heat in his eyes matching the fire burning within you. “Well, don’t go dying on me now,” you tease, moving back up to capture his lips in a heated kiss.

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you settle over him. You barely break the kiss as you grab his length and slowly sit down on it. The pleasure of being filled by him draws a gasp from your lips, and a hearty groan vibrates underneath you.

You brace yourself against his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath your palms, as you begin to move. The rhythm starts slow and steady, each movement deliberate as you rise and fall, taking him deeper with each movement of your hips. Soon enough, you feel him begin to thrust up into you, matching your pace, pounding into you even deeper than before.

Logan’s grip on your hips tightens, guiding you as you pick up the pace, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. The sound of your breathy sighs and his low groans fill the air, mingling with the gentle rustle of the leaves and the lapping of the lake against the shore.

His eyes remain locked on yours, a dark and heated gaze that stokes the fire within you. You feel the tension coiling tight, winding with each movement until it’s all-consuming, a need that demands release.

“I’m close,” you gasp, leaning forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss.

The tension within you builds to a crescendo, a tidal wave of sensation that sweeps you away. With one final movement, you tumble over the edge, your release crashing over you in a symphony of pleasure that leaves you trembling in his arms.

He follows soon after, a low, guttural moan escaping him as he finds his own release, his hands finding and squeezing your breasts while his body shudders beneath you.

When the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath you. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, and you smile against his skin, feeling a sense of peace and contentment that only comes from being with him.

The night air cools the heat between you, and you nestle against Logan’s side, feeling safe and cherished in the aftermath of your shared passion. His fingers trace lazy patterns along your back, soothing and grounding you as you bask in the warmth of his embrace.

“Wow,” you whisper, a soft laugh escaping you as you meet his gaze, the stars reflected in his eyes. “That was…”

“Incredible,” he finishes for you, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve got me all figured out, darlin’.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his words settle in your chest. “I think we’ve got eachother figured out.”

“Yeah, we do,” Logan agrees, pulling you closer, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

As the night stretches on, you find comfort and peace in Logan’s embrace, knowing that this is just the beginning of something beautiful and real. You’ve found a home in each other’s arms—a place where you truly belong.

---------

A/N: this is my first time ever writing smut yikes lol please leave feedback!

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thedivinetarot · 11 months ago

Text

Light of my life, fire of my loins, my sin, my soul

Who is your future spouse?

☆How to chose the perfect pile?

1) Clear your mind.

2) Take a deep breathe.

3) Ask the question in your head.

4) Open your eyes and the picture that you are drawn to the most is your pile.

☆ Before you get into the reading you have to know the following:

- Please, please and I will say it again please do not think of anyone while you are choosing. Not your Ex or current boyfriend or even your crush. And I will say it again DO NOT THINK of any man as your future spouse if you want to have an accurate reading.

- This is a general reading so take what resonates and leave the rest. The future is not set in stone and the energy can change. This reading does not substitute any medical or professional help.

- I might do part 2 for this reading.

Stay safe ❤

Arya

Pile 1 - Bram stoker's Dracula

☆Where are you coming from? Your current love life:

I see that this pile have been lonely for quite some time and they are wondering if they will truly find someone. I see that you guys are overthinking everything about your love life and you are leaving no space for divine intervention. This pile’s energy is quite sad and tormented? You perhaps tell yourself that you don't need anyone but you truly want to build something stable and long lasting. I see that you feel stuck on I'm independent I don't need anyone mindset. Not because you really like being independent but because you are afraid of getting disappointed. The problem with this pile is the fear is literally paralyzing you and sabotaging any potential connection that can fit into your life. I'm also seeing that you might be someone who have been rejected and the pain of rejection is still vivid in your core memory. I see that you truly want love and to be loved! You might have a crush on someone with virgo or taurus placements. Or you might feel drawn to those type of men who embodies this archetype. I feel like you are kind of traditional towards dating. You might have had strict family or you really have a strong opinion regarding dating or hookup culture. This is your pile if you have strong virgo placements, water placements or the description fit you perfectly.

Who is your future spouse?

Pile one you might be manifesting your twin flame to be in a marriage with them? This person might enter your life so soon and above all you might get to know him online? I see that he might like your photos if you post yourself or he might just DM you through social media? This person is so grounded and stubborn. He is so earthy and stable in a generous way. He is the perfect mix between fire and earth. He is so childish or he aim to see infinite possibilities. I see that he is doing shadow work or he has been to therapy before. I see that this person is either a heartbreaker or been heartbroken many times. He is so naive or he seems naive? He might prefer texting over phone or video calls. There's an emphasis on his hair. He have curly and dark hair. His eyes are sleepy or he have sleepy eyes. There's something about his face, you see those people who have sleepy faces? Like they just woke up? I guess he might have that. He might look innocent and angelic. Like his aura is so comforting and serene. I also see that this person look younger than his age with hazel eyes. His style looks chill, like you see those guys who wear comfy hoodies? He might be one of them. I asked when will you meet him and the cards told me that you may meet him 6 months from now. You might be on a journey of self discovery when he enters your life. You might be losing weight and if you are not trying to lose weight; you might be trying to get in shape. I see that you are going to meet him after doing a lot of shadow work and inner reflection.

Pile 2 - The Addams couple

☆ Where are you coming from? Your current love life:

This pile is my daring and flirty pile. You might like your solitude but you flirt for fun. I see that most interactions that happen between you and the opposite sex are online. You might like to post spicy photos of yourself. Or send nudes to total strangers in public. You might like to take initiative in relationships. Even if you are a woman/female; you simply don't care about the traditional roles. Especially on who get to initiate to whom. If you like someone you are going to get them, I see that this is your moto. Also this might be your pile if you are stuck on a decision regarding travel. You might want to travel but you are juggling too many responsibilities and this is holding you back from actually pursuing that goal. If you are a man (since the dominant energy on this pile are men or masculines) you might be posting photos or nudes of yourself online. I see many risky photos and poses and if you are not a man or masculine then you might be doing the same action. You really value your own space; I see that you are protecting your peace at all costs. I mean yes you might like to flirt for fun with others but nothing really is serious and you are not looking for something serious either. This is your pile if you have significant leo or Aries placements.

Who is your future spouse?

Your future spouse is someone that you are going to meet through group project. At first as I said about your current energy, you are not looking for something serious so when you meet that person you'll find it kind of confusing. I see that you might be blinded at first. Like you might not notice them and if you are working with them you might not be attracted to them. They are not your usual type, they might be smart and quick thinker. This person knows how to take care of themselves. He might also know how to take care of women in general. Men might call him simp but he is no simp he is just so kind and empathetic towards women's needs. He is so determined, I see that once he put his mind on a goal he doesn't stop when he is tired, He only stop when he finish. I see that he LOVES to conquer a good challenge. He likes to to be assertive and he is looking for someone assertive too. He want his equal, his queen. He might look like he suit you? Wait let me rephrase it. You see that two people who are not dating but everyone in workplace ship them? You two might have intense chemistry. This person look like a heartbreaker. Eye color range from brown to gray or just those two colors. His hair is so silky or wavy. He have this confused look when he talk to you? He might even drag his feet while he walk, or he might look tired when he walk.

Pile 3 - Nosferatu

Where are you coming from? Your current love life.

Well, looking at the cards this pile is in their sweet feminine energy who wants princess treatment and to be spoiled. If this is not the case then this piles are for mothers or you are a mother or pregnant. If you are not pregnant and you are the girl who is in her feminine energy then I see that there's someone who wants to pursue you and he is so damn confident about it. I see that you guys are so confident in yourselves. Perhaps, you are someone who is working on their self esteem and self worth. I see that whatever the case you are in. It is going to pay off. For my girlies who are being pursued by someone I see that this person is very serious about you. He want to marry you quiet literally. This person sees you as his wife or future wife. I also see that this connection is meant to be and is distant to happen even if you are not aware of it. This person is quite civilized and diplomatic. He want to make you happy and cherish you, but if you don't want him it is your choice at the end of the day. I see a lot of happiness in this pile. Guys happiness is your middle name, since the energy or the cards I'm pulling are all yellow and yellow means happiness in tarot. Another energy I'm picking up on is that this pile doesn't really want to be strong and independent. Unlike pile one who is pushing themselves to be that way, this pile is accepting the fact that you want to be a stay at home mother or a rich wife of a rich dude. Most people in this pile are Venus dominant, have taurus or libra placement or have venusian energy in general. You guys might be the pretty girl in your friend group and everyone enjoys looking at you.

Who is your future spouse?

So right off the bat what I'm seeing is someone who have a lot of options. You know that one man who is wanted by every woman because of how friendly and charismatic he is? This man has this energy. It looks like this person is someone who has been heartbroken before and now he keeps his options open by befriending many girls and keeping his options open. He have the cup of love and he is so eager to give it to someone, I'm also picking up on someone passionate and eager to explore life. This person is sooo romantic in a cheesy way. I see that many times he attempted to get in a relationship but got afraid and back off from pursuing something serious. This person believes in manifestations or he tried manifesting an SO or future wife or this person really believes that he can create the reality he wants. This person gives off the vibe of a knight in a shining armor or a Disney prince tbh. This person look like a literal baby or he have baby features. He might have round or oval face. This man can be a little overweight or fat with blonde hair and blue eyes. He is so cute I'm seeing a picture of someone who look adorable and sweet. This person gives off the vibe of "I look good as a husband". But in general this person look so childish and baby like. Could look younger than his actual age? Or this person might be younger than you, but not so much like a couple months younger. He is so friendly or he have a lot of female friendships. This man gives off the ENFJ vibes Idk if you know mbti but you can Google it if you want to. He is so emotionally mature and caring. His energy is so nurturing. I asked the cards about when will you are going to meet him and they said he will enter soon into your life and one of the signs is a female around you is going to give birth or you are going to meet a pregnant woman or one of your relatives/friends will get pregnant. There's a NOTE for this pile specifically; if you are being pursued by someone this person is your future spouse. And if you are not being pursued by anyone then you might know who your future spouse is. And if you don't have anyone then take the reading with a grain of salt but you can enjoy it anyways.

Pile 4 - Hollywood couple

Where are you coming from? Your current love life:

This pile is truly stuck. I feel like I'm bored and desperate I want to cry. Like guys what is the matter? There's both boredom and stagnation. You might be someone who is really bored with how things are in your love life. I'm picturing a girl about 16 to 18 years old who want to be open to love but there's a man in her life (could be a male caregiver) who is very strict and structured. This man literally destroyed your well to date anyone. I feel like you are discouraged by the idea of love and I feel that you are unbalanced in a way? Like you are trying to protect yourself from getting hurt but at the same time you want love so freaking bad. I'm clinching my jaw and I feel like I want to scream and yell and kick things around me. Pile four why are you so angry? Please calm down! There's nothing in this life that deserve all this anger. Please take a break and go balance yourself and life. You are still young and have no experience and life is still long in front of you. I see that you might be waiting for something to happen; for someone to come in and rescue you from your life but nothing really happens so you pour all of your anger and resentment on yourself. Please stop hurting yourself and go find a hobby or something that can help you channel this anger and resentment. I'm picking up on someone who is bottling up their feelings and not really trying to express them. I also feel headache, do you have headache pile four? Are you bloated too? You might have significant leo and Aries placements. A little Taurus placements and sun, mars and sagittarius dominate. I feel like you are waiting and waiting but the waiting itself got bored of you lol. And you end up feeling devastated and angry. This pile’s energy is so rageful, please do some meditation or workout to get rid of that anger. You might also be scared of change? And overwhelmed by the idea of change? You might be someone who doesn't really like things to change and stick to a specific routine. Anyways let's get into the reading.

Who is your future spouse?

This person is very hardworking and workaholic. I see that the main focus in his life is his career, money and stability. This man is a little bit selfish, and he became like that because of how much he suffered. This person suffered from poverty, or he was very poor. He might even get kicked out of his family house so he can work and get them money. This person got bullied a lot by his peers and saw a lot of cruelty in his life, I feel so sorry for him. This person might be closed off emotionally, it is like he is trying to shelter himself from any possible heartache because of what happened in his childhood. I also see that when you meet him he might not be ready for anything serious or he might not really have healed fully from what has happened to him. There's an age gap here, he might he older than you or more mature. Like 4 years older. He might also be a co-worker of you? Or acquaintance If it is not then he might work with you in your field. The main challenge he is facing is stability, he want stability to be able to marry you. My advice for this pile is don't try to force things out if this person is not ready for commitment. He hasn't healed yet and his main focus is on the material. He might even use you if you attempted to help him financially so please don't. What really amazed me in this pile that this man is so materialistic, his love language can be gift giving. Now his appearance; this person look so cocky and confident. He have hazel eye color and sharp features. This person's back look hot or beautiful. He is not that tall, he is medium height. His hair is dirty blonde or chestnut brown. A foreigner? He might not be from your country. This man is possessive to be honest. If you met him after he get his ish together he will spoil you rotten but if not then don't try to help and heal him. You might meet him at the end of November to the most of December.

Post date: 25th/Aug/2024 - Sun

*Feedback is appreciated

#tarot community #free divination #free tarot #tarot reading #pick a pile #pick a card #tarot pac #witchy #witchblr #occult #divination readings #divination #future spouse #tarotblr #tarot cards #metaphysical #spirituality

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riddlesrizzler · 4 months ago

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Crafting Chaos

summary: You magically turn brooding Slytherins into artists. characters: hufflepuff reader! bf! mattheo riddle. theo nott. blaise zabini. enzo berkshire. draco malfoy. warnings: none, just friendship :) word count: 783

You were practically glowing with excitement as you set up the craft supplies in the Slytherin common room. The table was covered in paints, brushes, clay, yarn, and even some glitter (which you had smuggled in despite Draco’s inevitable complaints).

Mattheo sat beside you, lazily watching as you hummed happily to yourself, arranging everything just right. The other Slytherin boys- Theo, Draco, Blaise, and Enzo- stood nearby, looking anywhere but at the art supplies like they might catch a disease if they got too close.

“So…” Draco finally broke the silence, arms crossed. “We’re really doing this?”

You beamed at him, clasping your hands together. “Yes! It’s going to be so much fun! You all need to relax, and crafts are the perfect way to do that."

Draco opened his mouth, undoubtedly to protest, but before he could get a word out, Mattheo shot him a warning glance. A sharp, don't make me regret inviting you kind of look.

The unspoken rule among the Slytherin boys was simple: don't upset Mattheo's Hufflepuff."

You were sweet, kind, and the picture of innocence- an actual ray of sunshine that had somehow managed to melt Mattheo Riddle's ice-cold exterior. And while they all secretly adored you in their own way, none of them wanted to be on the receiving end of Matteo's wrath if they upset you.

So, even though this craft night went against everything in their brooding, dark- coded souls, they sucked it up.

Theo sighed dramatically before flopping into a chair. "Fine, but if I get paint on my robes, I'm blaming you."

You giggled. "I'll protect your robes, I promise."

Blaise eyed the pile of supplies with a resigned expression. "Alright, what's the easiest thing to make?"

"Oh! You could make friendship bracelets!" you suggest eagerly, pushing string and colorful beads towards him.

Blaise picked up a bead of black and green, rolling it between his fingers before glancing at Mattheo. "Are we seriously making friendship bracelets?"

Mattheo just smirked. "You heard her."

Draco groaned but took a seat, dramatically grabbing some clay like it was his own personal burden to bear. "Fine. But I refuse to use glitter."

You pouted. "But glitter makes everything more magical, though."

Your expression made Mattheo send another deathly glare at Draco once again. Draco rolled his eyes before picking up the glitter in disgust.

Enzo, who had been the most silent of the group, sighed and grabbed a paintbrush. "I'll paint something, I guess."

Your face lit up. "Yes! That's the spirit!"

The boys reluctantly started working on their projects, each of them doing their best to looked annoyed while also making sure they didn't actually look like they were having any fun. You happily bounce between them, complimenting their work with the same enthusiasm as if they had just performed ancient magic.

Draco, despite himself, was sculpting a surprisingly detailed miniature of the Slytherin crest. "This is actually impressive, Draco!" you praised.

He sniffed, feigning nonchalance. "Obviously. I have excellent taste."

Theo was begrudgingly knotting a friendship bracelet, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Why is this so complicated?"

"You're doing amazing, Theo," you add sweetly, patting his shoulder encouragingly.

Blaise, who had fully given in at this point, was surprisingly skilled at bracelet- making. He lifted his half finished one and examined it. "This isn't half bad."

Mattheo watched it all with an amused smirk, resting his chin on his hand. You had somehow managed to get a bunch of stubborn, brooding Slytherins to participate in a wholesome craft night- all without them even realizing they were enjoying themselves.

By the end of the night, everyone had something to show for their work. Even Enzo, who had been the most reluctant, had finished a small painting of a stormy sky.

"See?" you said, smiling as you surveyed their crafts. "Didn't this turn out great?"

The boy all muttered their various versions of I guess it wasn't terrible, but none of them could deny the warmth in their chests when you looked at them like they had just made the best art in the world.

Mattheo, as always, just pulled you into his side, pressing a kiss to you temple. "You really have them wrapped around your little finger, don't you?"

You giggled, leaning into him. "I just wanted everyone to have fun!"

Draco rolled his eyes but didn't argue, Theo was still tying off his bracelet with intense focus, and Blaise simply shook his heads with a small smirk.

Because as much as they hated to admit it, no one could ever say no to you.

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navybrat817 · 22 days ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 27

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 26 | Series Masterlist | Part 28

Chapter Word Count: Almost 4k

Chapter Summary: An idea comes to you regarding part of your future and Bucky has a few choice words for your parents.

Chapter Warnings: Confrontation, bonding of sorts, inner turmoil, world building, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: I don't know what happened to the original post. Let's try this again! More Hold You Tight, and thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 and @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought it would feel strange with Curtis hanging out in the kitchen while you baked the brownies, but it wasn’t as bad as you thought, and it was something you’d have to get used to since he would be around you going forward. He didn’t try to fill the silence with small talk unless you asked him a question, likely trying to remain in the “shadows”. You did wonder what was on his mind since he mentioned being trapped, but it wasn’t any of your business. He was your bodyguard but that didn’t mean he’d be your friend.

“Smells delicious,” he said, standing when you took them out of the oven.

“Don’t worry. I won't burn myself,” you said, nodding for him to sit back down. “And thanks. I hope you like them.”

“I'm sure I will.”

Ray walked into the kitchen the moment you set the brownies out to cool off and looked between you and Curtis who settled back in his chair. “A treat for breakfast?” he guessed.

“A treat for Curtis,” you said, making your bodyguard smile a little.

Ray blinked hard and slow. “I see,” he said, pushing his glasses up. Did that upset him?

“Well, that batch is for Curtis. You have first dibs on the other batch,” you clarified.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” The blonde raised an eyebrow. “And what about the boss?”

“He’s third. He knows what he did,” you said unapologetically. They were your brownies. You could do what you wanted with them.

Curtis hid a smile before Ray asked, “And how are you feeling?”

You put your hands on the counter and shrugged. “Hard to say since I’m seeing my parents today and still dealing with…”

“Everything,” Ray finished for you.

You nodded. “I appreciate you asking.” It felt like you hadn’t talked to him in days and you admittedly missed it. Like Curtis, keeping you safe wasn’t a bore or chore in his eyes. He believed you were brave and part of you was starting to believe it, too.

“We’re all glad you're safe now,” he softly said.

“Careful there. You might be showing emotion,” Curtis said, earning him a glare from his colleague.

“Where’s Bucky?” you asked.

“He sulked for a minute when you kicked him out of the kitchen,” he said, making Curtis snort. Again, Bucky knew what he did. “But he’s in his office. Called Steve and Natalia. He also got an update on Lois.”

“How is she?” you asked, hoping that things were still looking up.

“She’s recovering well,” he assured you. You were glad to hear that. “From what we know, she’s stubborn and strong and it’ll take time, but she’ll be fine.”

You let out a breath. “I really need to see her, and I need to talk to Natasha,” you said. A woman you could hopefully help heal and move forward and a woman who was going to help you in some capacity. Both receiving and paying it forward. As that thought settled in your mind, an idea washed over you, making you stand up straighter and look at Ray again.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I have a thought,” you answered, trying not to get too excited. “I need to talk to Bucky.”

Curtis jumped from his chair when you walked out without another word, his footsteps behind you nearly silent. He really was going to be a good bodyguard for you. Ray followed, too, likely curious about why you rushed out so quickly.

Bucky looked up from his desk when you walked into the office, a smile on his face when he stood up. “Brownies ready?” he asked, holding his hand up to keep Curtis and Ray from walking in.

“Yeah, but that’s not what I came in here for,” you said, taking a seat on the sofa. Bucky immediately went to join you. “I have a bit of a crazy idea and I wanted to get your opinion on it.”

“You want my opinion?” The subtle shift in his posture showed he was touched. “And I’m the crazy one, Kotyonok, so nothing you could say would ever sound crazy to me.”

You didn’t dispute that he was crazy. “So, you know how one of the things that attracted you to me was helping your mom and my generally kind nature?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“And you helped Natasha however long ago so she could give the women who work at her hotel a better life, right?” you continued. You remembered Natasha telling you if it wasn't for Bucky she wouldn't be where she was.

“Yes, I did,” he confirmed, not elaborating on how or why.

“What if I do something kind of like that? What if I try to help other women who have…” You swallowed and tried to find the right words, suddenly nervous to ask for his opinion. “Been through stuff, like Lois or me.”

He tilted his head. “You want to help women who have been hurt in some capacity?”

“Yeah. Assault. Abuse. Trauma,” you said. You thought of your own situation, not just Clark's attack, but Bucky systemically making his way into your life. He wasn't out to harm you, but some stalkers did try to harm their victims. “And it's not like I’d have to quit being a florist. I just… I don't know. I want to do something.”

It could've been a means to take back some more control of your life. Being by Bucky’s side, you didn’t want to lose who you were in your core and wanted to continue putting good back into the world. Perhaps you wanted to pay it forward even more since others didn't have the kind of money and protection you now had.

“It’s stupid, isn't it?” you asked when he stayed quiet.

You were a florist. Yes, you volunteered when you could and wanted to help people, but it wasn’t your area of expertise. An endeavor like that was out of your depth, wasn't it?

Bucky framed your face, his eyes flashing with a mixture of pride and fury. “Don't you ever say an idea of yours is stupid. I won't stand for that,” he said, his gaze softening considerably. “Especially since that’s a great idea.”

You studied him, looking for any sign that he was joking. He wasn’t. “Really?” you asked in a small voice.

He kissed the tip of your nose with a smile. “Really. Money won’t be an issue. We can sketch out a plan and figure out what exactly you want to focus on, start local and small. Or you can sketch out the plan and I’ll give input if you seek it out,” he said, a hint of his businessman tone coming out. “If this is really something you want, we’ll make it happen.”

“So, just like that?” you asked. He was really supporting this?

“Of course. It’s admirable that you continue to look out for others and I’m going to support whatever you want to do,” he said.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You didn’t want to admit how nice it felt that he was backing this up, especially when you had no set plan yet.

“It also means a lot that you asked for my opinion.”

“Well, we have to talk through these things. It’s what couples do,” you said.

His smile was brighter than the light in the room. “So, you really see us as a couple now.”

“I guess so,” you said. What choice did you have?

He sighed before he kissed your lips, featherlight and full of promise. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered, suddenly standing and helping you to your feet, too. “You’re still in your robe.”

“I’ve been in the kitchen this whole time,” you reminded him, your mind going back to Curtis and wondering more about his past.

Bucky checked his watch. “Why don’t you get ready for lunch? I think Curtis and Ray have seen you in your robe enough for one day,” he tried to tease while his eyes stayed on his watch.

“And what about the day I’m walking around in nothing but my underwear?” you blurted out without meaning to.

Darkness crossed Bucky’s eyes, but it was more lust than rage when he put his hands on your hips. “I’d hate to have to hurt my own men, but I do love the thought of you walking around our home so… freely.”

“I’ll bet you do,” you whispered, knowing he’d probably chase you around or drag you to bed if he had the chance. “But for now, yes, I should get dressed.”

“Don’t want to keep your parents waiting,” he said, letting you pull away to get ready. “I hope I make a lasting impression.”

You shivered, wondering just what kind of impression he wanted to make. “I’m sure you will.”

Curtis leaned against the wall outside of the office while Ray stood on the other side. “You want to help others, huh?” your bodyguard asked.

You stopped to face him. “Yeah, I do.”

Curtis didn’t say anything else, but he looked impressed. So did Ray. You didn’t have time to dwell on that. You had to get ready for a lunch that you didn’t want to go to.

But your whole life as of late had been a series of events you had to participate in without much of a choice, so what was one more?

Bucky held your hand the entire drive to the restaurant and didn’t force you to talk, which you appreciated since your stomach was in knots. You found yourself playing with the diamond necklace, which he had put around your neck before you left. Your mom would no doubt stare at it or make a comment since you had never had such a nice piece of jewelry. Was this going to be a disaster or were you overthinking it?

“We’ll get through this quickly,” Bucky told you once the car stopped, his lips brushing the top of your hand. “Long enough for me to meet them and send them on their way.”

The knot in your stomach tightened more. How exactly was he going to send them on their way? “And after that?”

“Whatever you want,” he promised, helping you out of the car.

You didn’t pay much attention as you were escorted to the private table, but you knew Ray and Curtis weren’t far behind. The place was bright and airy, but sophisticated. It would've been a nice place to go on a date. Would this lunch sour that idea?

“I’m here,” Bucky whispered, pulling out your chair for you.

Considering the way he burst into your life you never expected to lean on him for anything. You had since your attack and now this, looking to him for support without meaning to. You even asked for his opinion on your idea to help other women, which you did seek out. Who were you becoming?

“Why do I care so much about what they think?” you asked when he sat down beside you.

“Because they’re your parents and it’s natural,” he replied, taking your hand under the table. “But you don’t need them.”

You were about to argue that you did need them before you caught them in your line of sight, your back rigid as they moved closer. They didn’t look overjoyed to see you, which broke your heart a bit. Bucky squeezed your hand before you realized you had squeezed his hand first. This was going to be a long lunch.

“It’s good to see you,” your dad said when Bucky released your hand only to pull your chair back to help you stand. “And you must be-”

“Bucky, her boyfriend. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said, shaking his hand and smirking when your dad winced and turning a critical eye on your mom. Neither of them hugged you before they took their seats and you quickly sat back down to hide your embarrassment. “You two raised quite the woman,” he added, daring them to say something.

“Thank you,” your mom said, looking over the menu.

“Since the menu seems to be more important than greeting your daughter, please, pick whatever you want,” Bucky smiled like a wolf getting ready to strike while you gaped at him. “I spare no expense when it comes to her and her… loved ones. Just look at her necklace. I purchased it for our first date.”

Your mom’s mouth fell open and you felt a bit of satisfaction when your dad squirmed in his seat. Did that make you a bad person? “I’m sorry. I meant nothing by it.” Your mom cleared her throat. “We’re thrilled to see you. It’s just with our accounts being frozen…”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” you filled in the blanks. You were used to it.

“Yes, I’m sorry about your accounts,” Bucky said without sounding sorry at all and pretended to look over his menu. “Interesting how you always think of others first even when you have a lot on your mind, Kotyonok,” he said loud enough for the whole table to hear. “Makes me wonder what that came from.”

Your mom’s mouth didn’t drop again, but you heard her sharp inhale on her next breath and your dad squirmed again. They weren’t used to subtle insults like that, especially from someone who had just met them. But as Bucky took your hand, you very much felt like his queen and he was defending you as such.

“Aren’t you going to compliment her necklace?” Bucky asked, turning his head to smile at you. “It’s as beautiful as she is.”

Your face felt hot when your parents stared and admired the diamonds. “They don’t have to say anything,” you mumbled.

“But I don’t understand. What kind of parents don’t compliment their child, especially when they haven’t seen them in some time?” he asked. Once again, it was loud enough for them to hear. He was digging the knife in and twisting it in the most passive aggressive way.

“It’s beautiful,” your mom said enviously, avoiding looking at Bucky.

“Thanks,” he said, flagging the server down and putting a hand to his chest. “Like I said, whatever you want. It’s on me.”

You picked a light meal, knowing there was a high chance you couldn’t stomach something heavy. Your mom chose the highest priced meal, which Bucky merely smiled expectantly. Your dad had the good sense to not do the same. It would’ve been nice if they asked how you were or gave some sort of indication that they cared.

“How did you two meet?” your dad asked to break the tension, which only made you nervous all over again.

“My club, and I very much fell for her first,” Bucky answered easily and leaned over to kiss your temple. “I knew she was the one the moment I laid eyes on her.”

“Club?” your mom questioned. “Since when do you go to clubs?”

“It was for Addison’s bachelorette party,” your boyfriend answered for you, smiling again. “You know Addison, don’t you? I would hope so. She’s practically family to her.”

You took a sip of your water and said nothing as your parents looked more uncomfortable with each passing second. The air was awkward to say the least. Bucky, on the other hand, looked over the moon one second and ready to kill the next. It had to be giving your parents whiplash.

“She’s a good friend,” your mom said, her smile shaky. “How’s the shop?” she asked, changing the subject.

“The shop’s great,” you said and found yourself smiling since you did love the place and your job. “Mrs. Crandle is still a great boss and-”

“And you’re still just a florist,” she cut you off dismissively with a shake of her head, wiping your smile away. “You could’ve been so much more.”

Your eyes glossed over, but you held your head high. “There’s nothing wrong with me being a florist, and I am more.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Ease up,” your dad whispered to your mom, shocking you both. Since when was he not on her side? Or was it because Bucky glared at them?

“Just a florist.” The man beside you chuckled, a dark and empty sound. “Tell them about the idea you told me about earlier today.”

The knot filled your stomach so much that you feared you’d get sick. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you said, not wanting to hear what they had to say since they never backed you up on anything.

“But it’s a great idea,” he assured you, giving your parents a smile. “Wait until you hear it.”

Your dad leaned forward and appeared interested. Was it for show? “What is it?”

Bucky nodded, encouraging you to speak up. “I went through something recently,” you said carefully, not wanting to blurt it out. “And it made me realize I want to help others and build a support system for women who have been through things.”

Your parents looked at each other as you held your breath. “That sounds ambitious,” your dad said just as carefully as you. “I realize you have good intentions, but…”

“You can’t just up and decide you want to run a charity,” your mom said, laughing and tapping her finger on the table when Bucky gripped his water glass. “You need more than just good intentions. You need experience and funding, which you have none of.”

You sighed. It was exactly what you expected. They wanted you to be more, but offered no encouragement when you tried.

“Aren’t you even going to ask what I went through?” you asked, your voice thick with emotion. For the first time, your mom looked worried. “Someone-”

“They don’t deserve to know.” Bucky took a sip before he gently set the glass down, making you eye him warily. He looked like he was ready to explode. “She isn’t just deciding, by the way. She has volunteer experience and she’s going to formulate a plan. And what she may lack in other ‘experiences’, she has passion, heart, and drive. It’s a shame you're too blind to see that.”

Your mom shrank back in her seat, looking as small as you felt. “I didn’t mean-”

“And as far as funding, I’ll be helping her with that since I don't expect either of you to lend her a thing. She has her own money, too. You just didn't know it,” he explained, bitterly laughing again at their shocked expressions. “Jesus Christ. You’re her parents. You should be proud of her. She’s loved by everyone she meets and she has thrived without your support.” He let that hang in the air before he continued. “She has more character in her finger than you two have in your entire body and I will back her up on anything and everything she needs because I believe in her.”

You placed a hand on Bucky’s thigh to ground him, your eyes welling with tears again. You were torn between not wanting him to cause a scene and for him to keep speaking because it just felt nice to hear. It felt pathetic and empowering, a strange combination.

“I just wanted you to support and love me,” you whispered, your chest aching at finally saying the words. “Why didn't you?”

Why did it hurt so much that you didn't have the love you needed?

Your dad leaned back like you slapped him while your mom didn't move. “We did and do love you,” he swore, looking to his wife for help when Bucky scoffed in disbelief. “Tell her.”

He shouldn't have to tell her that.

“We just wanted you to have direction,” your mom said, flinching when Bucky leaned forward with one elbow on the table. She couldn't even say she loved you.

“She has always had direction. You just never bothered to look where she was going,” he said, his voice soft and dangerous. “Though I guess your lack of support helped build her into the woman I love, so I almost wonder if I should thank you for not being who she needed.”

“I’m not going to sit here and let you continue to insult us,” your dad said since your mom was rendered speechless for once.

You almost warned your dad that Bucky wasn't the kind of man to mouth off to, but didn't.

“You know, I think I know now why you wanted to become a florist,” Bucky said as if he didn’t hear him. “You’re surrounded by warmth and brightness and you get to watch things bloom and grow and thrive because you never had that.”

You blinked away your tears. Bucky saw what they didn’t. You didn’t have to point it out.

“We do love our daughter, even if we didn't show it in the best way,” your dad argued, trying to take your hand across the table, but Bucky pulled you back. It was another brick added to the wall to keep people he didn’t want near you out.

“You didn’t love her enough and you never will.” He took his wallet out and threw some money on the table, more than enough to cover the meals that hadn’t yet arrived at the table. “Thank God I love her enough for all of us and I always will.”

Your mom sniffled. You hardly ever saw her cry. “I…” She trailed off when your boyfriend tossed more money on the table.

“That should cover the rest of your time here in the city. Take it. Or don’t. But I’m not going to sit here and play nice with people who make my future wife feel low about herself.” He pushed himself up and let your parents see just how large and imposing he was. “Just leave her alone the way you always have.”

They were good at leaving you alone.

“Please,” your dad begged, making you pause. “We’re sorry.”

“Empty apologies mean nothing,” Bucky said, his eyes narrowed. “Oh, and as it stands, I don’t want you at our wedding, but maybe your loving daughter will change my mind.”

“Wedding?!” your mom exclaimed.

“Yes, she’s going to be my wife and have a wonderful life with me.” He smiled when you didn't disagree. “Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

Bucky helped you up from the table and led you away, not even letting you look back when you heard your mom choke on a sob. They didn’t chase after you. They never would.

Your steps felt heavy. Your head spun. It was a relief that they knew how you felt in some capacity, but you didn't feel much better. Why not?

“They’re the past and I’m your present and future,” your boyfriend whispered, slipping an arm around you when you bit your lip. “I’m the family you need.”

“Thank you for sticking up for me,” you said, making him preen.

“I’ll always defend and stick up for you,” he promised, his grip possessive. “And I'm proud of you.”

What was there to be proud of? No, you wouldn't think like that. You were a good person, and a survivor. Your parents and their lack of support and care wouldn't take that from you.

“But I didn’t even get to tell them what happened.” What if they had wanted to help? They weren’t loving, but you were still their daughter and your mom had looked worried for a second.

“You don’t need them. Not when you have me,” he said, leaving no room to argue when he nodded to Ray and Curtis who hovered nearby. “And I won't let them hurt you ever again.”

You should’ve known lunch with your parents meant Bucky would close the door. You would have no choice but to move forward. And you didn't know what that meant except that you were now one step closer to being entirely his.

This chapter took a lot out of me! As a mom who wants to show nothing but love and support to my babies (and protect them), I want to wrap Kotyonok in a huge hug. Where do we think they'll go from here? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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