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vanteguccir · 20 days ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTIKTOK TREND: CALLING MY BOYFRIEND'S BROTHERS * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where Y/N and Matt do the TikTok trend 'calling my boyfriend's brothers to see if they would cover for him'.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

"Okay, ready?" Matt asked, lifting his thumb above the screen as he hovered over the red circle inside the TikTok app.

They were both sat on her bed, Matt’s socked feet crossing over hers at the foot of the off-white comforter covered mattress, her shoulder leaning into his comfortably. The phone was perched at arm's length, front camera facing them, perfectly angled to catch both of their faces.

Y/N adjusted herself slightly so she was fully in the frame, brushing her hair behind her ear so her face was fully seen.

"Yeah." She nod. Matt tapped the screen, and a countdown blinked.

3... 2... 1...

As soon as the camera started recording, Y/N turned to it with an excited smile.

"Hi! So, I’m about to call Matt’s brothers, Chris and Nick, and pretend that Matt told me he was going to them a few hours ago. But he’s obviously right here, so we’re gonna see if they cover for him or not." She said rapidly, her words tumbling over each other.

Matt leaned into the frame with a nod.

"Try Chris first." He said, eyes glinting with anticipation.

Y/N turned her head to give him a raised eyebrow. She held the expression for the camera, too, before letting a crooked smile slip as she looked down at her own phone, her fingers already scrolling her favorites list.

"Alright." She muttered, finding Chris’s contact and selecting it. She pressed the speaker and quickly moved her phone closer to Matt’s so his phone could catch all the audio.

The dial tone filled the room, ringing for some seconds.

Matt tilted his head, whispering.

"He’s not gonna answer. Watch. I bet he’s like passed out or somethi-"

But before he could finish that sentence, the ringing stopped.

"Hello?" Chris’s voice came through, slightly raspy like he had indeed just woken up.

Matt’s lips snapped shut. He stared at her phone, frozen.

Y/N’s voice was suddenly sugar-sweet.

"Hey, it’s Y/N."

"Yeah, I know it’s you." Chris replied instantly, with the most guy best friend-coded dry tone ever. "What do you want?"

Y/N’s shoulders shook with a held-in laugh.

"Matt left my place a few hours ago, said he was going back home, but he’s not picking up his phone, so I just wanted to check..." She started, trying to keep her voice casual. "Is he there?"

The other end of the line went quiet.

Matt leaned forward like he was about to climb through the speaker. His eyebrows raised as the silence dragged.

"He said he was coming home?"

Y/N widened her eyes at Matt, giving a subtle nod to her phone.

"Yeah. Like two hours ago."

"Oh... yeah." Chris said, and Y/N's mouth dropped open. "Yeah, he is. He got here like a little while ago. We were actually thinking of streaming soon."

Matt whipped his head to look at Y/N, then to her phone, then back to her. He looked surprised that Chris would actually cover for him but was afraid of Y/N's reaction at the same time.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"Oh, okay, cool. Could you pass him the phone real quick? I just need to talk to him for a sec."

There was a beat.

"Uhh... I think he’s sleeping." Chris said, voice feigning uncertainty. "He just went to his room."

Matt pressed his lips in a thin line, his whole body trembling as he tried not to burst into laughter. His knees came up instinctively, curling in as he looked at Y/N.

Chris was a terrible liar.

How could they be planning to stream if he 'just went to his room'?

Y/N tilted her head at the phone.

"Oh. Hm. Could you wake him up? It’s kind of important."

Another pause.

She raised her brows and slowly turned her head to Matt with eyes that screamed 'he’s about to give up'. But instead, Chris's voice returned, smooth as butter.

"Yeah, hold on. I can do that. Gimme a sec."

The faint sound of rustling blankets and a bed creaking came through the speaker, as if Chris had actually gotten up.

Matt squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders bouncing as he laughed into his hand, trying desperately not to let a sound, the phone in his hand shaking with his movements.

Y/N looked at the camera, then back at her phone when more sounds kept echoing from it.

Thump.

Rustle.

Creak.

The sound of a bedroom door opening. Then faint, echoing footsteps down a hallway.

Thump-thump.

Thump.

Stairs?

"No way." Y/N whispered, jaw slowly dropping. Her hand hovered over her mouth, eyes wide in absolute disbelief as her phone blared the unmistakable sound of Chris stomping upstairs. "There’s no way he’s actually going to your room."

Matt was frozen next to her, frowning while trying to control his breathing from his laughter.

Then, click.

A door opened.

And a light switch flicked.

Y/N let out a little gasp, turning to Matt, mouth half-open in shock.

"Did he just-?"

Matt’s eyes traveled to her from her phone screen.

"I think so."

And then, Chris’s voice came through again. Muffled at first, like he was calling into the void.

"Matt? Matt!"

Y/N’s hand flew to her screen, muting her side of the call so fast it nearly slipped from her grip.

"Oh my god." She blurted out in a loud laugh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "He’s actually trying to wake you up."

Matt, beside her, laughed just as hard, shaking his head in disbelief, his phone wobbling in his hand as it continued to record.

Chris didn’t stop.

"Matt, wake up."

"Wake the fuck up, Matt."

"C’mon, dude. Your girl wants to talk to you."

Y/N slapped a hand over her face, muffling her laughter against her palm so it wouldn't disturb the call audio. Matt leaned his head back, lips trembling, hand on his stomach like he was in physical pain.

"Thank you for muting it." Matt muttered, so only Y/N could hear him. "I would’ve choked if I had to hold back any longer."

Y/N’s nodded, silent tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She was trying so hard to be respectful of the bit, but it was a losing battle.

And then Chris’s voice echoed louder, like he was back to talking to Y/N - and not "Matt" -, letting out a dramatic sigh.

"Y/N, I don’t know what you gave to him." He said in complete deadpan. "But he won't wake up for anything. You put him in a coma or something."

Y/N took a deep breath, biting her lip so hard it actually hurt. She unmuted her phone with a shaky thumb, still snorting between breaths.

"He isn’t waking up?" She asked, voice cracking with the effort to sound normal.

Chris didn’t even hesitate.

"No. I literally shook him. I yelled in his ear. He didn’t even move. I’m not even sure he’s breathing, bro."

Matt, curled up beside her, let out a strangled squeak as he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, laughing so hard but still trying to keep it quiet.

Y/N’s lip wobbled from trying to suppress a smile.

"Alright, well- uh... can you tell him to call me when he wakes up?"

"Yeah, yeah." Chris said like he was already on his way back downstairs. "I’ll try again in a few, or I’ll text you. He’s probably just dead tired. I gotchu."

"Thanks, Chris." Y/N managed to say through clenched teeth.

"Mhmm. Talk soon."

Click.

Y/N dropped the phone onto the bed like it had burned her. She didn’t even have time to recover before Matt’s phone started vibrating in his hand while it was still recording.

Chris.

Y/N and Matt made eye contact, stunned for half a second before the hysterical laughter burst out of both of them simultaneously.

"He's calling me." Matt said to the camera, voice raspy from laughing too hard.

Y/N leaned closer to Matt, cheeks still warm from all the laughter, her voice slightly breathless as she spoke directly into the front lens.

"Alright. Time for Nick. But I’m gonna switch it up a bit ‘cause he’s at the Space Camp office today for some meetings, so if I say you were supposed to meet him there, he won’t be as suspicious."

Matt, leaning back on one elbow with a squint in his eye, let out a low hum.

"Bold of you to assume Nick’s gonna cover for me. You know we’re not the glue here."

Y/N gave him an innocent glance.

"What do you mean?"

He smirked and gestured vaguely at her face.

"You and Nick are like, glued together. He’s obsessed with you. He’s gonna throw me under the bus faster than you can say lip balm."

Y/N dramatically rolled her eyes.

"You’re just scared."

Matt made a pfft sound.

"Yeah, right."

With that, Y/N pulled her phone back up, scrolling through her contacts until Nick’s name popped up, paired with about seven different sparkly emojis and a shooting star. She grinned, tapped 'call', set it on speaker, and moved her phone next to Matt’s again.

It didn’t even ring twice.

"Hey, queen!" Nick’s voice chirped through the speaker, a little too loud and echoey from what was clearly a busy office.

You could faintly hear a door closing, chairs scraping, and someone saying 'That’s not the right shade for the summer launch' in the background.

Y/N’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Nick! Hi!"

Matt groaned and covered his face with his free hand. Y/N slapped his thigh to shut him up, trying not to laugh.

"Um, I’m so sorry to bother you at office day." She continued, letting her voice take on the sweet, clueless tone. "But Matt left my apartment a few hours ago and said he was coming to your office? To help out with the Space Camp shoot or something? He’s not answering his phone, and I was just wondering if he made it to you okay."

There was silence on the line.

Y/N’s smile grew slow and devilish as she waited.

"... He said he was coming here?" Nick asked, his tone completely suspicious, laced with genuine confusion.

Matt pressed his lips in a thin line. Nick would kill him.

Y/N nodded.

"Yeah." She replied sweetly. "He said he was gonna help you take some pictures?"

There was another half-second pause.

"That little bitch."

Y/N choked, slapping her free hand over her mouth so fast she nearly knocked her phone off the bed. Her shoulders shook violently as she turned wide eyes on Matt, who looked deeply offended.

"I told you!" Matt mouthed, pointing at her with a betrayed look.

Nick continued, completely unaware of the chaos he’d caused on the other end of the line.

"No. No, queen. He did not come here. He never told me he was coming here. I even asked him this morning if he could pick me up after the shoot, and he had the audacity to say no because he was spending the day at your place." He sounded like he was pacing now.

Matt’s hand was now covering both his eyes, shaking his head.

Y/N slowly lowered her own hand, trying to breathe.

"Wait... so he’s not there?"

"No!" Nick practically yelled. "He hasn’t even stepped foot into this building today. This man lied to your face. He betrayed my trust. And he skipped being my chauffeur."

Y/N sent a pointed look to Matt. She always told him to pick Nick up if he asked for it, or at least make Chris do it.

Matt squinted at her, whispering as lowly as possible so Nick wouldn't hear.

"Don’t you dare side with him. He called me a bitch."

Nick continued on the other side of the phone.

"Did you try calling Chris? Maybe Matt went home. You didn’t check with him?"

Y/N let out the most exaggerated sigh, forcing her brows to furrow and her voice to drop.

"No... no, I haven’t. I-I just figured if he said he was with you, then..."

Matt raised his eyebrows at her acting, but she waved him off.

"Oh, sweetheart." Nick said gently, his entire tone doing a 180. You could hear the pout forming on his lips. "Hey. Listen to me. I’ll try calling him, okay? Both Matt and Chris. I swear, if that little fucker is playing hide and seak, I’ll find him. But I promise you he wouldn’t do anything wrong."

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a smile and nodded seriously like she was actually worried Matt had evaporated into thin air.

"Okay. Please, just let me know as soon as you find out anything?"

"Of course." Nick replied immediately. "I’ll call you the second I get anything. And if he doesn’t pick up my calls, I’m going to kill him myself."

Matt raised an unimpressed brow and muttered a low 'Charming', rolling his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of his head.

Y/N beamed.

"Thanks, Nick. Oh, and when the shoot’s done, lemme know, and I’ll come get you, okay?"

Nick gasped dramatically.

"You’re the best. See, Matt could never. Love you, queen."

"Love you more." Y/N chimed before tapping the screen to end the call.

As soon as the line disconnected, she turned slowly to Matt with a look that could only be described as smug. Chin high, eyes gleaming, she crossed her arms and tilted her head.

"Nick passed." She announced. "He would never lie to me. Not even to save your sorry little ass."

Matt raised both brows in surrender and shrugged, looking toward his still-recording phone.

"I told you he wouldn’t cover for me. That man would rat me out to the FBI if it meant you’d still do his nails next week."

Y/N smirked, reaching over to grab one of her throw pillows and hugging it to her chest, feeling victorious.

"And for the record, yeah, Nick really would beat the shit outta me if I ghosted you for two hours-"

His words were interrupted by a soft chime echoing from Matt’s phone. At the top of the screen, a message banner rolled in from their shared triplet group chat.

Nick:

@Matt WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

Y/N froze.

Matt blinked once, twice, then turned slowly toward Y/N.

"Well, he said he would chase you down, so..." Y/N shrugged, smiling.

RING RING.

The phone echoed into a vibrating buzzing. It was Nick. Calling Matt. Y/N’s phone started ringing two seconds later, and Y/N's eyes were quick to meet the caller ID, Chris. Now he wanted answers, too.

Matt stared at the double call screens with dead eyes.

"I have never regretted anything faster in my life."

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luviestarz · 10 months ago

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park sunghoon fic recs!

✮ Cafeteria Confessions• PSH - @reinahwanggg (everyone thinks you're dating your childhood best friend sunghoon. well, everyone including sunghoon because he confessed to you almost a year ago and you didn't exactly know it was a confession because of how casually he said it.)

✮ NOONA — p. sunghoon smau - @hoonvrs (park sunghoon experienced love at first sight when he first laid eyes on his friends older sister. a series of sunghoon desperately trying to do anything in his power to get the girl and yang jungwon cockblocking him for funsies.)

✮ secret soft boy revealed | enhypen sunghoon - @elysianeclipxe (build-a-bear is a cliche and old thing that couple do. only lame people would go there to build a bear when it's obviously easier to just buy one.. so tell me why THE Park Sunghoon just so happens to be there, enjoying the fact that he's building a bear... whipped af)

✮ the 24-hour dating challenge - @jaeyunverse (being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.)

✮ CITRUS IN THE MORNING. - @hannie-dul-set (lovestruck! sunghoon just being Very In Love)

✮ 박성훈 、SPOILED ROTTEN - @boyfhee (sunghoon is drunk and is trying to break into your room through the balcony.)

✮ 성훈 、PARK SUNGHOON ! - @sseastar (THE ONE WITH THINGS THAT BLUR THE LINE BETWEEN FRIENDSHIP AND MORE)

✮ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 — BED 박성훈 - @karinasbaby (your fiance, sunghoon insisted on a "mini honeymoon" before your wedding preparations took over your time, so how would your day go now that you're on an island thousands of miles away from home with sunghoon?)

✮ angel - @yenqa (sunghoon can’t seem to figure out if you’re human or an angel.)

✮ come on baby, don’t say that. / park sunghoon - @snghnlvr (you were curious whether or not your boyfriend was a possessive type so you tested it out.)

✮ ceo sunghoon who loves taking care of you because you're his ౨ৎ - @hottestvirgin

✮ sunghoon with a crush on you | smau - @woniecore

✮ scoring a date - @shuichi-sama (if someone had told you that after becoming your high school's volleyball team manager, you would capture the attention of it’s captain, park sunghoon, you wouldn’t have believe them. but as he charm’s his way to your heart, you just might. or in which, sunghoon attempts to woo-you, seem to be working in his favor.)

✮ we can’t be friends — [ 엔하이픈 성훈 ] genre ⋆ smut - @dearjaeyuns

✮ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ | psh. - @pshcomforts (you test sunghoon on his reaction to a girl hitting on him after finding one of those videos on tiktok.)

✮ 𝓜𝐒. & 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐒𝐇 - @jlheon (seeing your ex in public leads to hiding in a small photobooth with your annoying student council vice president park sunghoon)

✮ IMPATIENT. - @sainns (he had everything planned out but how's he supposed to wait when it comes to you?)

✮ MY WORLD — p.sunghoon - @ikeuverse (you're back and you owe Sunghoon an explanation for your departure, but it looks like it's going to be a bit tricky to get him to listen to you.)

✮ UNLUCKY GIRL SYNDROME ✦ PSH - @suneng (if it was possible to see the number of people who would fall in love with you over your lifetime, most people would agree to it in a heartbeat, but some might not. you don't get that choice, labelled by a mysterious system as someone destined to receive no love and threatened to fix this 'error' before it's too late. but who will be your saviour, the social pariah sunghoon, or the school's golden boy sim jaeyun?)

✮ park sunghoon — THE PUSSY EATING COMPETITION! - @karinasbaby (in which… jake convinces sunghoon to join a pussy eating competition with a bet !)

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virtual-bunny · 4 months ago

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“ HEY NERDY BOY ! ”

random headcannons about nerdjo because he turns me on

pairings: nerd! gojo x chubby fem! reader

WARNINGS: SMUT but not too detailed, some body image issues, probably some writing errors :3

a/n: i might come back every now and then if a new idea pops up in my head hehe

ARTIST CREDS: @/N06ARA ON TWITTER

✧ nerdjo who can almost cry over how beautiful he thinks you are

✧ nerdjo who stammers over his words when you wear shorts that squeeze your thighs just right

✧ nerdjo who clings onto your body and inhales your scent and gets a boner instantly as he grips your love handles

✧ nerdjo who slouches so you can give him a kiss, his glasses slidding down his nose bridge as your lips touch his cheeks, his cheek warm from him being flustered, and when you pull away, nerdjo’s eyes are almost crossed eyed as he sighs deeply

✧ nerdjo who uses your tummy as a stress ball when you sit next to him while he does his physics homework

✧ nerdjo who lays on your tummy as you play with his hair while he sleeps, saliva spilling from the side of his mouth

✧ nerdjo whose so head over heels for you that he begs you to let him carry your books and backpack so he can trail behind you to see the way your ass and thighs jiggle

✧ nerdjo who helps you with your homework and pinches your cheek, side or thighs whenever you get something wrong

✧ nerdjo who holds onto your stomach when you’re riding him, his face flushed and glasses crooked as he looks up at you with drunken eyes

✧ nerdjo who stumbles to catch up to you because he was too caught up watching you walk infront of him

✧ nerdjo who rolls his eyes when his jock friend geto teases him when he sees that gojo isn’t paying attention to lecture “she’s got you wrapped around her finger doesn’t she?” “wrapped around her thighs” nerdjo sighs without a second thought

✧ nerdjo who likes to put his hands around your tummy and gently squeeze it whenever you two are watching tv and you’re sitting between his legs

✧ nerdjo who fivershly pumps his cock at the thought of your round body jiggling when you ride him, or when you laugh, or when you walk

✧ nerdjo who makes snarky comments at you when you try to show him that “you’re way smarter than he is”

✧ nerdjo who reads out his physics notebook out loud just to make you mad because you hate physics

✧ nerdjo who goes all red whenever he brings you gifts on his way to your dorm

✧ nerdjo who doesn’t like going outside and rather stay home watching Teen Titans but still does because he knows you like to go out on dates

✧ nerdjo who used to bite his pencils out of habit but now bites your chubby hands if you’re sitting next to him as he does his homework or helps you with yours

✧ nerdjo who has to assure you he loves you and thinks you’re as beautiful as “The Euler-Lagrange Equation” (you have no idea what this means)

✧ nerdjo who puts his hands under your stomach, thighs and boobs to keep them warm

✧ nerdjo who bores you to death as he talk about quantum physics but you don’t say anything because you find it cute the way he sometimes spits by accident when he rambled and how his glasses slowly fall when’s he’s making movements as he talks

✧ nerdjo who likes to prove you wrong whenever you try to be a “smarty pants”

✧ nerdjo who softens when you go up to him while he was working on a project and tell him you’re worried about him because he looks like he hasn’t slept in three days

✧ nerdjo who mutters to himself in class when a stupid frat guy tries to answer the professors question, obviously saying the wrong answer but clearly only doing it to get laughs out of everyone. “what an idiot.” gojo grits to himself

✧ nerdjo who looks seriously shocked when he’s helping you with your homework and you get the wrong answer even though the right answer is CLEARLY right in front of your eyes “love… you seriously don’t know the answer…?”

✧ nerdjo who spends HOURS in the library to a room all by himself, books, papers, pens and pencils all scattered around the table while trying to get his work done, his hair messy and eyebrows furrowed, but when you text him saying you were gonna drop off food for him, his whole demeanor turns soft and giddy thinking about how he’s gonna be able to see you

✧ nerdjo who if he’s not doing homework or reading, is playing or watching digimon in your dorm, explaining everything he possibly can so you can catch up to the lore (you stopped listening a long time ago)

✧ nerdjo who doesn’t really talk much in class but when he does, the professors have to cut him off because gojo can talk for HOURS

✧ nerdjo who makes you sit on his lap as he codes on his computer

✧ nerdjo who can solve a rubix cube in a minute and always does when you ask him to (for your own entertainment)

✧ nerdjo whos into physics and computer science

✧ nerdjo who awkwardly puts his arm around your shoulder when the two of you are walking back to your dorm (he nearly trips)

✧ nerdjo who when you tell him a fun science fact, crosses his arms, leans back on the couch and goes “well ACTUALY-“ it’s too late to stop him, he’s already yapping to you on how the fact is wrong

✧ nerdjo who starts looking stupid now because you two have a class together when the new semester started and he can’t concentrate at all because he’s too concentrated looking at YOU

✧ nerdjo who tries to be freaky by putting his shaky hand on your upper thigh but you smack it away and he gives you a sad puppy look as he fixes his glasses, you swear you could see tears forming in his eyes

✧ nerdjo who runs to you when he finishes a prototype for whatever sciencey class he has and with full confidence says “you’re looking at the new science prodigy babe!” “uh huh” you say

✧ nerdjo who goes to the library again to study, he’s so stressed but he’s glad you came along, that’s until you went under the desk he was sitting at, undoing his belt and pulling down his pants and boxers JUST barely, hes literally gripping onto the table, face flushed hair messy crooked glasses and chest heaving trying so hard not to make it obvious you have his dick in your mouth

✧ nerdjo who makes you tag along with him to the nearest store to get the newest Digimon cards

✧ nerdjo who makes you gasp when you turn around for one second and look back to see him fighting a literal ten year old for a box set of Digimon cards

✧ nerdjo who doesn’t show you memes, but shows you reddit posts that you have no interest in looking at

✧ nerdjo who makes you sit on his face, but not to eat you out, but so your thighs can squish his face. he says that “it de-stresses him” and when you go to complain he says “it’s scientifically proven that it does”

✧ nerdjo who SOMETIMES is a cocky asshole in class, and when an acquaintance of yours who’s also in gojos’s class tells you how much of an asshole your boyfriend is, you straighten nerdjo up by riding his face nonstop to the point he’s crying because HE’S not getting any action

✧ nerdjo who you convince that overstimulating him will “de-stress him” and “make him focus better” so when you tied him up in your bed with a vibrator wrapped on the head of his cock, he’s whining, crying, squirming, eyes rolled all the way to the back of his head and pleading you to “let him do anything to you” (when you finally let him cum he tells you the next day that his focus is 97.56% better than it was the day before)

✧ nerdjo who’s so competitive when the two of you play video games he forgets you’re his GIRLFRIEND and is brutal with the insults when you loose

✧ nerdjo who’s actually really strong and likes to carry you around your dorm or outside when the two of you go for a walk. and even though you’re protesting and telling him you “don’t wanna hurt him” all nerdjo says is “just cause i’m smart doesn’t mean i’m not strong”

✧ nerdjo who likes to suck your clit while gripping your tummy

✧ nerdjo who likes to grip your fupa cause he’s weird like that

✧ nerdjo who ANALYZES your pussy and your actions whenever he’s fingering you or fucking you so he can make you feel better for the next time you two fuck (you always have a stronger orgasam each time after the other)

✧ nerdjo who bites his nails and gets told off by you (he immediately begs for your forgiveness)

✧ nerdjo who kisses your tummy whenever he lays down on your lap and turns his head so he’s looking up at you and says “you’re the most angelic thing i’ve ever seen, you know that?” he sighs contently while pushing his glasses up and giving you the stupidest toothy smile

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highdramas · 2 months ago

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in terms of your recent post, maybe abbot x professional athlete! reader — (volleyball/gymnastics/swim/soccer etc.) she comes in for a devastating ACL tear or something of the like and he’s the one who treats her? maybe jack recognizes her because robby & him would catch your teams games every now and he’s caught off guard seeing you up close, and afterwards reader stops by a couple days later to drop by some tickets to the next match and perhaps her phone number…

spinning out | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!figure skater!reader warnings: language, angst with a happy ending, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), almost certain medical inaccuracies because i have no idea what i'm talking about but i researched and did my best <3 word count: 3.4k summary: you are pittsburgh's sweetheart, the ice princess, the hometown hero. when you come into the emergency room on the worst day of your life, jack is the one who meets his match. notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. i once again took some liberties with this request, but i hope that you enjoy it! i decided to make reader a figure skater! one of my many favorite fixations! not proofread so apologies for errors <3

the screaming that comes from chairs is enough to get the attention of any tuned-in physician or nurse. but it especially gets jack’s attention– because it’s not just screams that indicate pain, or fear. there’s just… general commotion. and that can be a lot more dangerous than anything else.

everyone in the chairs is on their feet– if they can be. jack and dana barrel out, trying to parse out what exactly it is that’s happening. but the second that he lays his eyes on you, he knows why.

you’re the face known all around pittsburgh. your face is on many billboards, definitely in the newspaper, and regularly on the local news. and it’s been this way since jack moved to pittsburgh, back in 2015. at the time, he remembers you looking so fresh faced– only twenty, and you were on track to be one of the best figure skaters in the world. call it morbid curiosity, but jack had kept up with your career, loosely, in the way that most people who lived in pittsburgh is. that's what he told himself, anyway.

“alright, alright, everyone sit the fuck down and stop crowding around her,” jack calls, approaching you and the gaggle of people who surround you. you still wear a dazzling outfit, catching every single light and refracting it back out. your feet are socked but there are no skates to be found, and two people on either side of you helping hold you up right-- barely. you look abysmal, when you finally make eye contact with him– mascara trails down your cheeks, hairs are out of place, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen an expression so… hardened. “come on, we’ll help you. dana– get a wheelchair.”

jack helps the people he learns are your coaches transfer you to the wheelchair. you still haven’t uttered a word– you just look down at your hands, pick the skin around your cuticles. “we think it’s an acl tear,” your coach says to jack. “happened during a competition. a smaller one, thankfully. we don’t need that kind of scrutiny.” this makes jack’s face screw up slightly, but he continues to listen. “we just– we’ve gotta have her back on the ice next week.”

“dana, go ahead and wheel her back to south-9, i’ll be right in.” jack turns his attention to your coach. a stark woman, small eyes, full lips, very obviously tanned. “alright,” he claps his hands together. “you all are going to have to stay out here. we’re very packed in the er, so i can’t have you back. we’ll come out and grab you when we have an update. okay?”

he can tell that this doesn’t please her, but he doesn’t really care. because while she’s bemoaning the possibility of more people bearing witness to what is likely one of the worst moments of your life– not for your sake, but for the sake of image… jack knows himself. he won’t be able to work effectively with that type of squawking in his ear.

when he goes to central, he points at dana. “don’t let coach and company in. feel me?”

“i feel you, boss,” she says without looking up from her computer. “donnie’s in there right now, but she’s ready for you.” she looks up at jack, plucking her readers off. “never a dull moment, huh? we got celebrities now!”

he tries to find it amusing, but then he remembers the look on your face, and he can’t find the humor within the situation. he simply squeezes dana’s shoulder, turns around, and takes a deep breath before he enters south-9.

–

the door opens. click shuts. you hardly hear it– all you hear is the blood in your ears. all you feel is the throbbing in your knee. all you know is that it’s over.

you took pride in what you do. you love ice skating– as an art form, as a way that you have honed your body over many, many years. you’re proud of all of the regional, national, world competitions you’ve won– you’re proud of all of that. and really, you only wanted one more thing. you knew it was a stretch, you knew it was a strain on your body, you knew, at 30, some think you’re too old for your sport… but it didn’t matter.

you just wanted to win gold. once in your life.

you’ve had silver, and bronze, you’ve gotten close to gold the last two olympics– neck and neck with your competitor, who ultimately, worked harder. was better than you. that’s what you tell yourself. that’s what your coaches have told you, to push you. your family doesn’t say it, but you feel it radiating off of them.

you don’t need the doctor to tell you that it’s over. you felt it the second that you landed wrong and crumpled to the ice, a glittering pile of dreams that will never be realized. you cried, not from the pain– you know pain intimately, have walked side by side with pain your entire life. you cried because it was all for nothing.

“hi. i’m dr. abbot.”

you don’t respond.

he sits in one of those spinny stools that all doctors use. you finally glance at him. “you don’t have to say it,” you wipe at your cheeks. “6-8 weeks until i can get back on the ice after an ACL tear. this isn’t my first tear, so i’ll likely need grafting surgery. so who knows how much further that would set me back.”

“wow. you want my job?” he tries to crack the tension but it’s no use. not really.

you’re approaching catatonic.

but it’s like a nail pops a balloon, and suddenly, all that you are is a heaving, sobbing mess.

the doctor– dr. abbot– sits with you. at one point, he offers you a tissue. then, the trash bin to throw it. and then, his hand.

you don’t think twice before you take it. you take it and you squeeze and you use it to tether yourself because everything feels like it’s floating away from you– a career, a dream, a desire.

but other things, too.

pain. being talked down upon. only being useful for one thing.

he doesn’t leave. he doesn’t even move a muscle. others try to come in and swap out and at one point you swear he says, “shen, fuck off, i’m busy.”

you don’t know how long you cry. you’re exhausted after. and itchy, because this stupid outfit clings in every spot that hurts and it feels like a humiliation ritual more than anything else, at this point.

“can i–” your throat is scratchy, and jack hands you a water bottle. you chug at it, greedy. “can i get a gown? and–” you look around, as if scared that they might be there behind you. “tell my coaches to fuck off and go home?”

a small smile creeps onto jack’s features. “yes, i can do that.” he hesitates before he stands up. “we’re gonna get you all checked out. see what we can do for you, and what orthopedic surgery is going to need to do. and we’ll be able to determine how long until you can skate again. alright?”

you nod your head. he finds your eyes. “we got you. alright?” tears are still brimming, hanging off your eyelashes like the saddest dew drops known to man.

–

it doesn’t look good. your assessment of your injury was largely accurate, jack found, when he began his examination of your knee with a delicate touch– being as intune with your body as you are, jack isn’t surprised. he comes back with x-rays and brings in ellis to observe. “you’re smart, i’ll give you that,” he says as he enters the room, and he’s proud of himself when you smile. you’re changed, and he thinks that someone must have given you a makeup wipe, because your face is fresh and beautiful and he has to clear his throat before he continues with his diagnosis and what he’d recommend for treatment.

“you’re looking at, maybe 16 weeks before you can get back out. and that’s entirely dependent on how you heal after the surgery. and even if you do start skating, you’re going to need to take it slow.” he finds your eyes. this is the kind of news that he hates delivering, and he thinks if he has to do it, he can at least look someone in the eye while doing it. they’re beautiful– and they have a depth to them that he doesn’t find in most. you’re not scared off by his eye contact. you maintain it with little effort. “i’m sorry.”

the chuckle that you let out causes a shiver to run down his spine. it’s so humorless, that it creates a chasm inside of him that wants nothing more than to make it better. “yeah, of course it is.” you lean your head back. “the press will be here soon.”

jack and ellis share a glance. “your team is talking to them outside, we believe,” ellis says with a wince.

you smirk. “ah. of course.” you look back to abbot. “thank you for your help. i’m sorry i’m wretched. just…” you shrug. “what a shitty fucking day.”

“yeah, i don’t doubt it.” he chews on his lip. “can we arrange to have someone else pick you up once you’re cleared?”

“there’s no one else,” you say seamlessly. “i’ll call an uber.”

it’s odd, he thinks to himself. seeing you up close and personal, real. he would’ve thought you were entirely delicate, a beautiful flower kept in a box, plucked out, and put onto the ice to entrance everyone who watches you. but you’re so human and alive and he can sense this way that you’ve been treated, and when you say there’s no one else except these people who look at you as a product, a brand, a liability… something snaps.

“we’ll arrange to have someone take you home. it’s a risk to have you take any sort of public transportation where someone can’t assist you into your home.”

you look between the two physicians. your eyes land on jack and he thinks that you might fight it– but then, you concede, and give a meek nod of your head, and he feels that tightening in his chest that he keeps experiencing. he wants to wrap you up and hide you away– far away from those people taking advantage of you.

he’s just starstruck. that's what he decides to chalk it up to.

–

dr. jack abbot does ensure you’re driven home by someone. he is very professional, and polite, as he instructs you on when to return to the hospital for a pre-op appointment, and how to manage your pain in the meantime.

eventually, you do have surgery. eventually, you’re back in PTMC, and your eyes trail on the emergency department as you go past it, wondering if you might be able to sneak a glimpse of him.

you fire your coaches. you tell your team to fuck off. your publicist can hardly get ahold of you, and, naturally, everyone wants a statement. it makes you laugh to think about it. yeah, you’d like a statement too, you think. bitter. always so bitter in those first weeks after.

once you start recovering from surgery, the bitterness dissipates, but you certainly don’t sweeten to what has happened to you. you watch with bloodshot eyes, the footage of it happening. you’re rapt with it, and it’s a little sadistic, you think to yourself– but you can see the exact moment of the tear. the exact moment everything shifts.

that night, you write find a therapist down on a to-do list.

your first session, as you recount the story to her, you get hung up on the portion in the emergency room. you explain it in great detail, and when it gets to your doctor… “i broke,” you admit with a shrug. “i broke in the emergency room. and the doctor, he stayed. you know– sonja, and marci, they were both out there. yes, he asked them to stay back, but it was because even the doctor could see it. that they didn’t care about me. they didn’t care if i was okay. they cared that i wasn’t functional anymore.” you stop yourself. steel yourself. “but he stayed with me. he held my hand when he cried. and i can’t…” you look down at your hands, pick at already raw cuticles. “i couldn’t remember the last time someone was so nice to me, just for the sake of being nice.”

your therapist suggests you go back, and thank dr. abbot. you think this is a good idea, but you’ve spent so much time being an ice skater, you don’t know if you really know how to be a human being anymore. how do you talk about anything that’s not a diet, choreography plans, workout regimine, or regional scores? do you know how to be earnest, and real, and honest?

you hobble towards the emergency room, the brace you wear restricting your mobility, but you’d finally gotten off the crutches, thank god. you hold a box of cookies that you had baked yourself– with all this newfound free time, and with the fact that you could actually eat, freely, in a way that was almost certainly healthier than whatever restrictive nonsense you were doing before, you’d picked up baking as a hobby. you weren’t great. but you weren’t horrible, either.

it felt so good to just be mediocre at something. to not care. to just enjoy it for the sake of enjoying it.

you approach the registration desk. she– lupe, her nametag says– recognizes you instantly, you can tell. you say hello, and introduce yourself by name anyway. “um– dr. abbot treated me here, about five weeks ago. i was wanting to say…” you attempt to slow you breathing, your nervousness. “i was wanting to see if i could say thank you.”

lupe gives you a warm smile. “oh, that’s sweet, honey. we all heard about what happened– i am so sorry.” your lips press into a line. the sentiment is kind– but it strikes you, anyway. “let me go see what i can do.”

–

it’s never good when lupe is coming back.

jack snatches the sterile gown, soaked in blood from a woman that he was unable to save, and shoves it into the proper disposal. he rubs sanitizer into his hands and he eyes lupe, trying to muster up a smile. “can i hold onto hope and a prayer that you’re about to tell me something good, and not bad?”

“yes, actually. for once, right?” lupe laughs and she begins to explain to him that you’re outside. when she says that, jack’s eyes go wide. “she wants to thank you. can i bring her to the family room?”

“uh– yeah. yes, please do.”

you go to central to finish up on a chart when robby approaches jack at his side. “i hear ice princess is back,” he says with a small smile, crossing his arms over his chest.

somehow, a rumor got around that you had cried in jack’s arms in south-9. that he had cradled you and held you and stroked your hair– he’s fairly certain it was princess and perlah. no, he knows it was princess and perlah. all good ER rumors start and end with him.

“don’t call her that,” jack says without looking up from the screen. “not cool.”

“oh, my apologies.” robby’s eyes trail to the family room, where you’re limping in. “she’s walking on that knee.”

jack snorts. “that’s the least surprising thing i’ve ever heard.” after an interaction with you that barely went over an hour, he felt like he understood you. he understood that, of course you were walking. you were determined, and you were used to your body bending to your will– not the other way around. he looks over at the family room as the door shuts with a faint thwick.

“go get ‘em, tiger,” robby says and it makes jack scowl.

he’s a good, professional physician. he doesn’t have crushes on patients.

he opens the door. and you’re sitting there, beautiful, clear eyed– there’s still a storm cloud or two burrowed within you, he knows, but not the same as when he met you the first time.

you go to stand up, but he instantly shakes his head. “oh– no. in fact…” he looks at the couch and grabs a pillow. “elevate.”

you look at him incredulously. “my surgeon said i only needed to elevate for 3-7 days post-op.”

“it’s always good to elevate when resting. especially since you’re walking on it.”

you roll your eyes. “the crutches slowed me down,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

“that’s kinda the point, sweetheart.”

–

sweetheart.

your lips curl into a smile and you raise your eyebrows at him. he looks at you like he would like to crawl under this couch, and die, probably. he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “i don’t know why i said that.”

“i do,” your smile is saccharine. “because i’m a sweetheart. obviously.”

“they called you pittsburgh’s sweetheart in the paper, once.”

“oh– so you knew who i was?”

“you can’t go anywhere in this city without seeing your face!” you’ve gotten him exasperated now, riled up, and you’re thoroughly happy with yourself. this is the most fun you’ve had in you don’t even know how long, to be perfectly honest. you’ve begun to recline on the arm of the small loveseat, and jack maneuvers the pillow beneath your knee. his hands are confident, his words are not. it’s a combination that you think you could watch all day.

he takes a seat across from you, once he’s gotten you settled to his liking. and there’s that stare, again– people always said that you had a staring problem, but they must not have met jack abbot before. that man had a staring problem.

you take it almost as a challenge. you maintain the eye contact and slowly slide the box of cookies to him.

he glances down. “what’s this?”

“cookies. i made them.” you run your tongue over your teeth. “to say thank you.”

he hangs his head. looks up just enough to peer at you through eyelashes– long, pretty eyelashes. “you don’t need to thank me. i just–”

“oh, no. i do.” you clear your throat. think over the little script that you had written in your journal, all of the vulnerable and real things that you wanted to say. “i don’t know what i needed, exactly, in that moment. and in don’t know if it would be possible for one person to be exactly what i needed. it was–” you feel that swell of emotion start to rise like a tide in your abdomen, but you push through. “it was the single worst night of my life. but not because of the injury. because i just… i realized how sad my life is. i don’t have friends. my family situation is dysfunctional in a way that is not healthy. my coaches and team and everyone around me just looked at me like a thing. an item. and you looked at me and cared for me like a human being. so.” you have to clear your throat again. “thank you.”

jack’s eyes didn’t leave you, one single time. and he only looks away not to close them, rub at them. when he opens them, they’re misty, and he chuckles. “fuck,” he drags the word out, and you feel it run through the center of you. you move to stand up but he stops you. “you are a human being,” he blurts out. “and fuck anyone who has ever treated you like anything else, or less– fuck. them. seriously.”

“yeah, i fired my team.”

“good.”

“yeah.”

a comfortable quiet takes over and you go back and forth in your mind as you stand up, for real this time. “i know you’re working. and i know this is probably unprofessional, but…” you take a piece of paper from your coat pocket and you hand it to him. “when i get back on the ice, i’d like to do it for myself. but, you know, could be good to have a medical professional there to make sure i’m not fucking myself up even more, so…” you suck in a breath. “that’s my phone number.”

he opens the piece of paper and stares at the string of numbers. looks back to you. “i’ll be there.”

“great.”

you sling your purse across your body. “that won’t be for awhile, but…” you brush past him, towards the door. “you know, i can still go out to dinner with a torn acl.”

jack smiles, dimples out. holds the door for you. “sounds like we’ve got a date.”

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #jack abbot imagine #jack abbott imagine #jack abbot #jack abbott #the pitt fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #the pitt #dr abbot x reader #my writing

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pellucid-constellations · 5 months ago

Text

Trial and Error (7)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Angst

a/n: Hi it's been a while for this series! Next chapter goes crazy I'll tell you that much. Love you thanks for reading <3

Main Masterlist ♡

Life no longer felt as if you were on the run.

You were, obviously, but an ease had blanketed the cage you had placed yourself in, fostering a warmth that almost tricked you into forgetting. The biting heat from Autumn, always so readily at the forefront of your mind, took a backseat to the calm routine of your life. You forgot, sometimes, that you and Melanie were living on borrowed time. On borrowed luck.

Azriel made that easy.

Things had progressed between the two of you, so slowly that the movement was imperceptible. But you felt the change in short bursts, at the most inconsequential of times.

He would come over at night and hold you as you slept, but only after the unseasonable warmth had vanished and your single-paned windows became evident. Those nights were accompanied by an overload of blankets being heaped onto your daughter’s bed, but still, there was often a knock that shortly followed Azriel’s arrival. There was enough room for three on the bed, anyways.

Azriel was not shy about touching you, but he was also adamant about not crossing any lines. You weren’t sure who had created those lines, but they kept his hands in your hair and at your waist and clasped to yours when you took Melanie out for walks. His lips stayed, again, at your hairline and on your cheeks and in the divots of your knuckles when he said goodbye.

You thought, perhaps, he was waiting for you to fully kiss him before he allowed himself the liberty, but there never seemed to be a right time. And you were still often confused.

In the time you spent with Azriel, you opened up more about your past. You told him of the perilous journey to Velaris and the difficulty of finding a job with your lack of skills. He inquired about your position back in Autumn Court, how you could have survived with no job, but there was no reason to have a job when you were a court lady, and you told him that.

“My skills mostly lie in propriety. I know how to work a room—” you had explained. “—but that is hardly useful when you come to a new court as a common person.”

“So, you were not common in Autumn?” he had asked.

Your chest had started to hurt at that, so you only shook your head and stared down at his fingers intertwined with yours.

Azriel hadn’t asked for more. He kissed the side of your head and told you about growing up in Illyria. He told you about Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor. He spoke of the Archeron sisters and their abrupt arrival in the court. He would brush your hair back and tell you about the nights he thought about his mate and how you had decimated every one of his expectations.

“Because I came with so much baggage?” you had teased.

Azriel had only smiled softly, the fire crackling in your hearth lighting up Melanie’s face as she slept against Azriel’s thigh. “Because you have offered so much more than I had imagined.”

Each time he looked at you took your breath away. You had thought he looked at you with admiration before, but after he had become sure you wouldn't bolt at the first sign of his feelings, the pure adoration in his gaze was almost difficult to meet. He looked at Melanie in a similar way—softer, more fond than adoring, but you could pick out each difference and they made you feel lightheaded.

You were going to kiss him today.

You were going to drop Melanie off at the neighbor's next door for a sleepover with the other kids, and you were going to invite him to stay. And then you would tell him who Melanie’s father was.

Maybe you wouldn’t tell him everything yet, but you had amped yourself up to tell him that much, and you wanted to kiss him desperately.

Standing outside of Melanie’s school, you leaned against the pillar you claimed as your own and stared up at Azriel as he told you about the best places to get weapons in town. You were half listening, half simply admiring because you had no use for information on weapons sales, but Azriel didn’t seem to mind your lack of interest. He usually didn’t come with you to get Melanie, but he was tasked with picking up Nyx, which meant it was safe for the two of you to be here together.

Well, according to Azriel, it was always safe. But this felt safe for you.

“There is an elderly woman on the far side of the Sidra who offers the best prices but she’s rather prickly.”

“Are you usually concerned about prices?” you posed, a knowing judgment in your eye that was mostly in jest.

“Well, I would not enjoy being ripped off,” he countered with a laugh. He was only a short step away from you, craning his neck down slightly as you spoke of nothing important.

“Oh no, we couldn’t have that,” you mocked, mouth twisting into a smile. “Something to finally put a dent in that bank account of yours? Couldn’t be.”

Azriel scoffed, his eyes bright. “I’ve told you, countless times, that I would like to use some of that money to get you a new place. But you always refuse.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not using you for your money, Azriel.”

“I know,” he softly replied. He brought a hand up to tilt your chin. “I’ll still get you to agree eventually.”

“I think you underestimate my resolve.”

“Oh, I know I do. Give me time to get more acquainted with it.”

You breathed out a laugh, opening your mouth to respond, to quip, to remain in this peaceful bubble Azriel seemed to have carefully curated when a confused shout of Azriel’s name sent terror washing through you.

“Azriel?” the voice called again. You kept wide eyes locked on the Shadowsinger before you, the cause of your fear emanating from behind your back. “I thought I was getting Nyx today. I could have sworn—”

Azriel quickly removed his fingers from your chin and straightened his stance, but it was too late. The man behind you let out a low, playful whistle, and you could hear his footsteps drag casually as he walked, but you had never been more tense in your life.

“Cassian,” Azriel cleared his throat, looking over you to the man you knew to be the High Lord’s war general. You kept your gaze locked on the veins weaving intricate patterns in Azriel’s wings. “I was getting Nyx today.”

“But I thought you had plans tonight.”

“I do. I was going to get him and drop him off at Feyre’s studio. She’s teaching a class.”

A pause.

“Is your friend shy?”

Azriel’s wing inched forward, but it didn’t enclose you. That would make this obvious. He wouldn’t want to make a scene.

Azriel looked down at you and you could tell he was trying to convey so much with just that gaze. But above all, you knew this was unavoidable. Cassian would see you; he would only become more suspicious if you remained in this state, frozen and defiant. So you found the reassurance you needed in Azriel’s expression and you plastered a strained smile on your face. And you turned around.

“Hi,” you greeted. Cassian was exactly as Azriel had explained, sly grin and all. “Not shy, just taken off guard a little.”

Now behind you, Azriel spoke your name introducing you and acting as if you had no idea who Cassian was. The General couldn’t seem to wipe the smirk from his face, eyes flitting back and forth between you and Azriel. “It’s nice to meet you,” Cassian nodded. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m guessing you’re the one taking up all of Az’s time recently? We’d love it if you came to us every once in a while. Maybe the guy would actually be present during our get-togethers if you were there.”

You let out a nervous laugh, hands joining at your waist as you began picking at your fingers. In response, Cassian’s expression faltered. He uncrossed his arms.

“She’s very busy,” Azriel answered for you. “She runs an apothecary.”

Cassian’s brows shot up. “Oh? Maybe I could come by sometime to—”

The school bell rang, punctuating the height of your anxiety. An overwhelming urge to cry heated your face and made your waterline sting, but you bit hard into your cheek instead, face twisting into another semblance of the worst smile imaginable.

A few more minutes.

The teacher was always late.

“Is there a remedy or something you’d need from an apothecary?” you asked, the words sounding strange as you lost your breath behind fear.

Cassian’s brows came together, an action so brief you almost missed it before he lowered his tone substantially. “I would mostly just like to see your craft. Having your own station is incredibly impressive.”

He sounded soft now, unsure. You smiled again, but that didn’t seem to help. You had a small inkling that had you known who Azriel was the first time you’d met him in this exact location, the situation would have gone similarly.

A warm hand met your back causing the air to vacate your lungs.

Azriel was here. Azriel was here and although this was close to your worst nightmare, he understood and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you or Melanie.

Melanie.

Cassian would see Melanie.

Fears actualized and then amplified as your daughter’s soft tone formed the syllables of Azriel’s name. Her shout was happy and followed closely by Nyx’s, and it would have been clear to anyone observing the scene that your daughter was very familiar with the Shadowsinger. And that Nyx was very familiar with that relationship as well.

Azriel, not wanting to confuse the five-year-olds now tugging at his pants, gave your shoulder a slight squeeze before kneeling to gather them in his arms. They giggled as he rose, rattling on about the events of the day, and you used the noise as an excuse to finally turn around and avoid Cassian’s baffled expression.

“Mommy!” Melanie called, beckoning you forward until her small arm was wrapped around the back of your neck. “Maybe Nyx could come to my sleepover tonight. He’s my best friend, did you know that?”

You fought past the quiver in your throat to put on a smile. “I did know that, Mel. But Nyx doesn’t know your friends at home and his parents might not be okay with him staying with strangers.”

Melanie narrowed her eyes and gasped in revelation. She turned to Nyx, slapping Azriel in the face with her braid in the process. “You’ll have to meet my friends during the daytime then. So your parents can see them!”

“That sounds like a good idea!” Nyx cheered. “I’ll ask my mommy later. Then maybe we can all be friends.”

“I think that sounds like a good idea too,” Cassian sounded off from behind you. “Lots of new people to meet, it seems.”

You winced, the expression hidden by your daughter's tight clasp on your neck. Azriel readjusted the children in his arms before clearing his throat. He caught your eye briefly, just a short glance, before staring up at his brother.

“Can we do this later?” he asked, the question not sounding like a question.

“Do what later? I’m not doing anything?” Cassian defended. “I was just meeting your new friend. That’s all.”

“Ms. Y/n isn’t a new friend, Uncle Cassian,” Nyx almost boasted. “She’s just new to you.”

“That right? Why didn’t you mention her sooner then, Nyx?”

Nyx brought his finger up to his chin and shared a private laugh with Melanie, the sight making your anxiety lessen. Until Cassian spoke again.

“Well, now I’m feeling left out. This isn’t fair.” He stepped forward enough to capture Melanie’s limited attention. “I’m Cassian. I’m like Azriel over here, but a whole lot better.”

Azriel scoffed, but Melanie only smiled, finally releasing you from her grip to take the hand Cassian had outstretched towards her. “My name’s Melanie. And I’ll believe you only if you take me up flying 'cause Mr. Azriel never lets me.”

“Ah-ah,” Azriel tsked. “Melanie, you know why I won’t take you.”

Melanie groaned and knocked her head back. “Mommy doesn’t need to know everything we do. Sometimes she’s busy, Mr. Azriel.”

“You guys all seem pretty close,” Cassian observed, turning his gaze over to you. “I think I’d really like to get you over to a family dinner sometime. See what’s been keeping Azriel so occupied.”

“Melanie can come to our house?” Nyx screeched into Azriel’s ear.

“Oh, um,” you stuttered, your skin prickling with uncomfortable heat. You stared up at Azriel, widening your eyes just a fraction to show your panic, but he was looking at Melanie as she screamed into his other ear. “I-I really don’t know about that. Azriel only really—what I mean to say is that Melanie only really knows Azriel from school events. She really likes his wings. I don’t think—”

“Cassian, later,” Azriel emphasized once again.

This had always been a terrible idea.

What was Azriel going to tell Cassian during this undetermined period of time?

And family dinner? With the High Lord and Lady?

You felt like you would be sick, any and all comfort being ripped out from under you.

And Cassian—Cassian looked so confused you weren’t sure his brow could twist any further. He lifted his hands in gentle surrender, opening and closing his mouth several times as if to speak but then thinking better of it.

You should leave. You should leave right now.

You coaxed Melanie out of Azriel’s arms, much to her protest, and calmed the calamity that was your breath as you nodded to Cassian. “Very nice to meet you,” you rushed.

“Mommy, but I—”

“No, honey. I’m sorry but we have to go home,” you cut Melanie off.

Your feet took you further and further away from the disaster in front of the school, none of the fear and panic being left at the gates. You took it all with you, heavy on your shoulders as your daughter told you, multiple times, that she could walk beside you and she promised she’d hold your hand.

But you were back in survival mode, as Azriel called it, and none of your daughter’s pleas were registering.

Because now, a member of the court knew who you were. And he knew about Melanie.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction

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hotchnerwrites · 2 months ago

Note

“Enemies to lovers, but only one of them thinks they're enemies. The other has been entirely obsessed since the beginning.” Saw this concept on here and got me thinking—reader works at the bau and thinks hotch hates her, but in reality it’s the opposite and she’s misreading his signals?

Mixed Signals

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SFW, idiots in love, good ending, swear words

A/N: Hi hi hi hi!!! sorry for the long wait!!! finally have some time on hand from exams and im getting all reqs done!!! chose to go down a dry humour/funny route for this. honestly reminded me of my olive branch fic, except it's reversed ahahah. anyway, thank you so much for your patience. i hope you enjoy this!!!! so much love, mwah mwah mwah <3

My requests are open. Send me stuff! Please read the rules before asking, and be advised there is a slight wait time right now. But I will post for sure. :)

ps- i kind of maybe forgot to proofread so let's pretend any errors don't exist 😬

At the end of the day, it was just work.

You all were colleagues— professionals selected for their skills, all crammed together into one bullpen and expected to play nice. That didn’t mean you had to be friends. People were allowed to dislike each other if they wanted. It happened. Tensions flared, personalities clashed, and someone always ate the last yoghurt tub.

And if Aaron Hotchner happened to hate you in particular, well, that was his right. It was just part of the job. And you were aware of it. Oh, so aware. Acute, constantly and embarrassingly aware.

There was no question about it: he hated you. Not disliked. Not tolerated with professional indifference. No— this was loathing. Cold, calculated, deep-in-his-bones hatred.

You felt it in your blood every time Hotch walked into the bullpen and skipped over you when saying good morning. It radiated from his office like a laser death ray whenever you laughed a bit too loud.

It wasn’t paranoia. You’d done the math.

Morgan? A nod of approval. Prentiss? Professional respect. Reid? Indulgent patience. Rossi? Best friends. You? Fuck all.

You were sick of the stone-faced silence. And that look he did. That little glance from the corner of his eye, paired with a crease between his brows. Like your presence caused him physical pain. You’d once made a joke in the SUV, and he sighed. Not laughed. Sighed. It was actually quite impressive, how consistent he was about it.

You’d retaliated by calling Hotch all kinds of names. Mentally, of course. It was childish and dramatic, you know. But no more dramatic than the way he had once corrected your paperwork with a red pen, and hadn’t even told you— just left it on your desk like a cursed object.

You tried not to take it personally. For a while, it worked. But then he started doing this thing— this new thing— where he’d enter a room, and leave as soon as you walked in. It had only happened twice, but it had been the same excuse both times: that superiors called him away. Suspicious.

So you did what any well-adjusted and emotionally mature adult would do. You went straight to Garcia’s office and told her that your boss hated you and you were going to get fired because he could smell your weakness. She’d gasped, handed you a bejewelled stress ball, and offered to hack into some database on your behalf (you declined, but it was nice to feel loved for a change).

Still, you couldn’t shake it. It seemed like he couldn’t be in your orbit for more than three and a half minutes without the need to file an HR report.

So when the moment came, you weren’t prepared.

●・○・●・○・●・

You were in the briefing room, finishing up your notes after everyone else had gone. The case had closed. People were smiling. Even Hotch had smiled at someone. (Not you. Obviously. But still.)

You were alone now, sorting through crime scene photos, muttering under your breath about timelines, when his voice startled you.

“You missed lunch.”

You jumped. Clutched a photo like a weapon. “Hotch—you can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

He looked vaguely alarmed. “I knocked.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” he insisted, like someone trying to explain doorbells to a raccoon.

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you want?”

He paused. Then, slowly, he stepped forward and—without ceremony—placed a sandwich in front of you. Neatly wrapped. Labelled with your name. From your favourite place.

You blinked. “…What is this?”

“You didn’t eat.” A beat. “It’s been a while since the brief ended.”

“I— I was going to—”

“I’ve noticed.”

You stare at the sandwich like it’s a bomb. Then at him.

“You got me food?”

“Yes.”

“Because you hate me and you’re trying to poison me?”

He blinked. “What?”

“It’s fine,” you said, hands raised in mock surrender. “I respect it. A clean kill. No one would suspect a thing.”

“…Why would I hate you?”

You let out a single, disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding? You avoid me like I’m radioactive. You only talk to me when absolutely necessary, and even then, you struggle. You sigh when I speak.”

Hotch looked absolutely, entirely baffled.

“I sigh at everyone.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. It’s a thinking thing.”

You scoffed. “Well, you don’t think around Morgan that much, apparently.”

He exhaled. Then, before you could launch into Exhibit D (the Unspoken Broom Closet Incident), he said:

“I’ve always valued your insight.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Your reports are consistently the most thorough. Your geographic profiling is precise. You’re one of the most detail-oriented agents I’ve worked with.”

You stared at him. “…So you don’t hate me?”

“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “Quite the opposite.”

Silence.

You opened your mouth, about to ask what the opposite of hate even meant in Hotch-speak, but he was already turning away, clearing his throat.

“Anyway,” he said, suddenly very interested in the wallpaper, “I thought you might want lunch. That’s all.”

And then he was gone. Just—left. Like he hadn’t just lobbed that cryptic grenade over his shoulder and walked away.

●・○・●・○・●・

You don’t eat it right away. Not because you’re still suspicious—it’s from your favourite deli and has your name written on the brown paper in what can only be described as Hotch's weird, neat serial killer handwriting—but because you're too busy mentally disassociating.

Quite the opposite.

What on earth did he mean?

The rest of the day passes in a weird, slow-motion haze. JJ gives you a weird look when you accidentally sit in her chair. Reid asks if you’ve seen his recent paper, and you blink at him like you’ve just returned from war.

Because you’re thinking. Hard.

Like:

That time Hotch asked if you were staying late and then looked weirdly panicked when you said you were walking home.

The morning you came in limping from breaking your ankle, and he said, “You shouldn’t be here,” in the flattest tone imaginable.

How he called you by your first name once, and you almost fell out of your chair because he never uses anyone’s first names. You chalked it up to a lapse.

And then. Then, the worst one.

Last month. You’d been coughing like a maniac during a briefing. He had placed a bottle of water in front of you with a dull thunk. At the time, you had taken it to be his passive-aggressive way of saying please shut the fuck up right now. Only to find out later from JJ that he’d actually gotten up and left mid-meeting to get that water for you.

Now you're sitting at your desk rewatching it all in your head like the twist ending of a psychological thriller.

●・○・●・○・●・

You don’t see Hotch again until nearly 6 p.m., and when you do, he’s at his office door, jacket folded over one arm, clearly intending to head out.

You’re not even thinking when you get up and intercept him halfway down the hall.

He stops mid-step when he sees you. “Everything alright?”

“I… need you to clarify what’s going on.”

He exhales like someone who just got caught by airport security. “About what?”

You try to keep your expression neutral, but your heart is pounding like you’re about to ask your boss if he’s mad at you—because that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“You’ve been… weird,” you say finally. “With me. For months.”

Hotch tilts his head. “Weird.”

“You barely speak to me unless it’s about a case. You avoid sitting near me on the jet. I brought cookies in last week, and you took one, then put it back. Who does that?”

He has the audacity to look mildly horrified. “I didn’t mean to put it back.”

“That’s not the point.”

You’re spiralling and he knows it. You can tell by the way his jaw tightens like he’s trying not to laugh. You, on the other hand, are mortified.

“I just need to know,” you continue, quieter now. “If I did something wrong. If I’ve annoyed you somehow, or if you genuinely just… can’t stand me.”

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough to make you want to crawl into the floor tiles.

Hotch runs a hand down his face. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I—” He pauses, and then, with all the charisma of a man giving a congressional hearing, says, “You make me nervous.”

You blink. “Sorry?”

“You… distract me,” he mutters, like he’s admitting to tax fraud. “I didn’t mean to be distant. I thought it would help.”

“Oh.” It comes out stupidly small, because your brain is too busy cataloguing every single interaction the two of you have ever had and realising, oh no, he was just emotionally repressed and completely, tragically bad at this.

You swallow. “So… you don’t think I’m annoying?”

“No,” he says, almost immediately, and then after a pause, “Not even a little. Not even when you talk over me in briefings.”

You almost laugh. “That’s because you talk like we’re in court.”

“And you talk like you’re arguing with your GPS.”

Now you do laugh, and something about the way his shoulders ease tells you this is maybe the most honest conversation you’ve ever had with him.

You look at him for a second longer, searching his face. “You’re really bad at this.”

“I know.”

“You could’ve just said you liked me.”

“I’m saying it now,” he says, softer.

And okay—maybe Hotch didn’t confess it with a rose in his teeth and violins playing in the background. Maybe it came out like a man filing paperwork for a broken heart. But it’s still something.

“You want to get coffee or something?” you ask.

He nods once. “Yeah. I do.”

You don’t know what this is yet. But it doesn’t feel like work. And this time, he didn’t glare— so, by your standards, that was basically a proposal.

Thanks for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

#criminal minds #hotchnerwritescm #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x f!reader #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #criminal minds x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x bau!reader

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defmaybe · 1 month ago

Text

She’s American

LE SSERAFIM’s Huh Yunjin and MEOVV’s Lee Gawon x Male Reader

2.8k words

Title Inspired by The 1975’s She’s American

A/N: Part of @woollypoison's prompt event! The ending's a little rushed lol, sorry about that.

—

Being a gold-badge tennis umpire is, obviously, not simple, especially when you're the youngest one to ever do so. (The entire neighborhood came over to your house to celebrate upon the announcement.) Sure, the federation give you the women's matches. It's shorter during the Grand Slam, they said, but the sheer concentration needed is still pretty damn daunting. It took some time before those raised-by-television ticks are gone, but you made it, eventually.

Before every match, you have to learn about your players—style of play, cultural background, temperament. You've seen the racquet breakers. You've seen the profanity merchants (yes, you can curse in over twenty languages, that's one of the perks). You've seen the sweet-mouths. A lot you've come across during the first year you've officiated, and that has expanded your worldview by a lot.

—

A grunt, service.

The tennis ball bounces off from the racquet, flying over the net to the other side. Your eyes follow, fingers tapping on the armrest. It ricochets off the acrylic surface once.

A groan, forehand groundstroke.

The ball darts back to the opposite side. It hits the ground once; the sound echoes through the court. The seats are filled. There has never been any vacancy from the semi-finals onwards. The crowd is silent during the rally, locking their eyes on the ball. They are composing themselves well.

A cry, two-handed backhand.

The players' benches are full of belongings—towels, spare racquets, water bottles. Both of them don't seem to be the dazzling type with their possessions. The clouds make way for the not-really-summer-but-not-quite-autumn sun to stare down at the people below. Glistening skin. Loud breath. Squinted eyes. That's New York September for you.

The rally goes on. Both women voice with each of their hit. The sounds of the shots intersect with the movements. Your eyes focus on the ball intently, watching for an error. The ball seems to handle itself well, though, always landing inside the lines. It's probably twenty strokes already.

Then, a slice. The green ball floats awkwardly over the net. It lands inside the service box, bouncing forward shorter than it should. Loud thuds of the steps reverberate through the arena. A reach, defended. It flies over the net, albeit weakly. Then, a sprint. A slide. A remarkable volley. Oh, no chance of defending that.

"Forty, fifteen," you announce, and an applause follows.

—

Now, the benefits of being a gold-badge umpire aren't as prestigious as everyone makes it. You still have to cover the expenses for your trip first. The food is edible. There's no protection from the dipshit players on the courts. The salary is pretty much what you'd expect from a standard job. It's not that great.

You get this, though, at least.

Gawon's head is thrown back as your tongue drags along her neck, gathering the saltiness of her post-game sweat. Being slightly shorter than her makes it easier to do so. The nape is at your tongue level. Her body shudders every time your flesh plants itself on her skin, accompanied by a guttural groan with each lavish. The scent of her is overwhelming, yet so intoxicating. A hint of that player. What's her name again?

That doesn't matter, just lick Gawon's neck.

On your back, Yunjin digs her hand under your shorts, running her fingers along your perineum, starting from the base of your balls to the rim of your asshole. You spasm with each touch, barely controlling your moans from reaching the outside of this damp, heated locker room. Her tongue laps the side of your neck, savoring the late summer taste on your skin. No player is going to have the Tropical Boy title, because this young little referee is having it.

"You do this often?" Gawon asks, fingers digging into your scalp. She cut her nails, obviously, a standard for athletes.

"Once a month," you huff. It's an honest answer, just that you don't know how to classify it as: usually or sometimes or seldom. It's definitely frequent enough for you to come across an array of female players, at least.

"Slut," Yunjin scolds. Her hand grips on your balls tightly, making you squirm between the women. And of course, she giggles.

Gawon yanks your head away from her neck, boring her eyes into yours. There's nothing but lust on her face—the wanting eyes, the shaky breaths, the lip lick. Yunjin's still on your neck, getting that saline dripping down your skin from sitting in place for two hours, lazy ass. Her grip on your testicles loosens, going back to teasing your taint and keeping you on the edge.

Suddenly, Gawon presses her lips on yours, a little chapped. Her hand grips your hair ever so tightly, burning your scalp with her sheer force. The pain is always worth it, of course—mixing your sweats together, tasting that body salt lingering on your players' bodies, inhaling the scent of their perseverance from the last two hours. You're so much of a whore for it.

Yunjin pushes forward, teasing the edge of your boxers along with your shorts, threatening to pull them down in a single swoop. She runs her fingers towards your front. Oh, how you shudder when she grabs your length from the back. Yunjin then starts to rub your cock softly, all while planting her tongue on the back of your neck.

"I wonder what ITF would say if they know that one of their umpires is a sweat-obsessed whore," Yunjin coos, making sure to take a swipe at the tip of your cock. Your frame jolts in response. You know she's smiling, she always does.

You can feel Gawon slightly grinning against your lips, a more devilish one than that of Yunjin's. Her tongue attacks the inside of your mouth so easily, making you melt within her embrace. She's just so good at this. The sloshing sound of the kiss rings inside your ear. It's pretty ugly, nothing majestic like in the movies, but it feels like heaven.

Her hands slide into the space between you and Yunjin, landing on your plump ass. Gawon then gives the pair a squeeze, and you can only moan softly under the kiss. How nice it feels to be handled like this, and she shoots back at you, "God, your ass is just so, ugh, fuckable. Fucking dump truck of an ass."

Again, you just whimper whorishly into her mouth.

In a sudden, Yunjin pulls your garments down. They pool idly at your ankles. Your cock springs free in front of Gawon, so excited, as sweat falls onto the ground. Gawon hastily wraps around your cock with her gorgeous hand—long fingers, cut nails, rough palm. It's everything you want in a player—proper for a threesome session. Gawon takes a swipe on your tip, and this time, you feel the cold of your arousal smearing your head.

"Such a slut," Gawon sneers against your lips, rubbing the top of your cock with her thumb. She then pulls back from the searing kiss, taking a look at your twitching length in her hold. "A referee shouldn't be this leaky. You need more self-control."

"There are no regulations on that," you retort, shrugging. "You don't like leaky dicks?"

From behind, Yunjin is observing the exchange. She laughs occasionally at your banters, intersecting with licks on your neck that make you shudder.

"Too easy to be exploited. You'll sway too easily," Gawon says sternly, but she lets go of your hair, kneeling. Her hands rake on your shirt as she moves down your body, until her face is just right in front of your cock. The intoxicating scent of her body is gone, but your cock in her mouth is a pretty good exchange.

At the same time, you can feel the absence of Yunjin's tongue, replaced by the hot breaths against your ass. She spreads your cheeks open slowly, exposing your heaving hole to the heat.

"Yum."

And Yunjin's tongue dive into the between of your plumpness, tasting the fever that has been building up for the last few hours. You cover your mouth tightly as the wet flesh touches the rim of your asshole.

Gawon says nothing, instead envelops your cock with the warmth of her mouth. She makes sure to keep her tongue dragging against the underside of your shaft—more cum upon orgasm this way.

Your hands press onto the back of the women's heads, burying them in your sweaty body. Oh, to have your cores stimulated like this. You wish you could just do this fucking forever.

—

It's a wonder how nobody has come into this room for the last … how long has it been?

The room is definitely hot enough to keep Yunjin's body sweating. God, the smell of her cunt is just the fucking best. Your hand grips onto the side of her thick thighs. Her skirt blinds you from your surroundings completely. The inner shorts are gone; she might give them to you if your tongue is good enough. To wake up every morning and inhaling in her essence is just—

"Your tongue is just the fucking best, baby," Yunjin rasps, gyrating her hips on your mouth recklessly, spreading her tartness on your lips as you lie on the bench. Her hand grips onto the top of your head. You feel the crushing weight of her body on your lips. No relenting, of course. You're eating her pussy until she becomes a fucking faucet.

Yunjin isn't the only one who's enjoying your body, though.

Gawon's hand presses hard on your ribs, all the while impaling her pussy with your throbbing dick over and over. You feel her skin tremble on top of your chest—rhythmic. It's thrumming through the dust surrounding you. Her walls clench and heave and contract around your manhood. There's not a single ounce of oversensitivity plaguing beneath your skin after that dumping inside Gawon's mouth. Fuck, it feels too good. Those moans are a song—stuttered, airy, yet so consistent. Her shorts are probably somewhere in the room. You're being a good boy; she'll let you take it home. Your frame is taking a lot. But if that means your cock will pulse inside Gawon's cunt, and your tongue will dance on Yunjin's clit, you're more than happy to trade in your remaining years.

"Whore."

Gawon's word spurs you on, of course, and Yunjin is the victim of it. Your tongue works harder on Yunjin's swollen nub—sucking, nibbling, tugging on it. Your fingers penetrate her tight asshole with ease; the sweat helps a lot, and Yunjin can do nothing but convulsing on top of your face.

"Fuck, baby," Yunjin whines. Her clit pulses against your tongue in that rapid tempo you've always known. "Your mouth can do more than calling for outs, huh?"

She's close.

You don't reply, now pushing with your tongue into Yunjin's cunt. Your nose presses against her hair. She cries out in ecstasy, trembling and writhing on top of your head. Your thumb moves towards rubbing her clit frantically. Her moans grow louder and more chaotic with each passing second. You're ready to take her nectar, all of it, mixed with her filthy sweat, and you're going to love it.

Gawon ups her ante, grinding on your cock even faster. Her sweat falls on your dampened body, marking you as hers (co-opted with Yunjin). You're doing well, almost perfectly even, judging by those frenzied moans leaving her lips. The room is just their moans at this point, and you're more and ecstatic that they're the product of your doing.

"Mmm, yes, I'm fucking close, baby," Yunjin shouts. The slickness of her nectar and athletic filth drips down your cheeks. You're definitely not washing your face for a few days. Her tempo reaches its peak. Your lips can barely catch her movement, and she's not going to stop until she cums.

"Don't you fucking dare leave me behind, slut," Gawon huffs, slapping your waist to remind you of her presence. It's like you're forgetting her. She's lighting your nerves aflame! "Better breed me with this baby batter."

No pulling out.

Yunjin's moan climbs the scale. Her hold on your head trembles. She's going for it—to use your face as her canvas—and you're going to let her do it.

"Fuck!"

From your experiences, Yunjin's mouth is going to make an "O" shape. Her eyes will roll up in pure bliss. Maybe her tongue will even loll off her lips. You're pretty certain of those.

Though, what is definitely going on is her folds gushing clear liquid on your face. Her entire frame is shaking, spasming in a certain rhythm. You open your mouth wide, taking in her taste. It's saline, a unique kind of saline, and it's fucking delicious. Oh, you're drinking her filth gleefully.

"Drink it, baby, fuck, and tell me what it tastes like."

Yunjin continues to ride your face away with no caution. The spurts slowly subside. Shame. You cling on to the last remnants of her essence desperately, so eager to drink in as much as you can. Your tongue reaches for her core, getting that heavenly taste from the source. When the cascade stops, you can only lap at her sensitivity, and Yunjin lets out an wild wail, unable to stand against your lavishing any longer.

"Baby, baby, I-I can't …" and Yunjin detaches herself off your needy mouth. A string of something stretches between your lips and her wetness. God, you're such a whore for her pussy.

Light hits your eyes again, letting you watch Gawon's elated face. Her head tilts up. Her eyes are shut. Her mouth opens slightly, letting out those sinful moans and have them bounce off the walls. She's hugging you tightly with her walls, attempting to coax another wave of cum out of your balls.

"That was good," Yunjin says on your side. Her sweat falls down on your frame as she wipes her forehead with her hand. Indeed, you stick your tongue out for her taste. A little difficult with Gawon riding you, though.

"You really are a sweat slut, aren't you?" Yunjin coos, before kneeling down close to you. "Open your mouth, then."

She then hovers her sticky fingers over your mouth, slowly descending into it. The salty taste of her skin hits your tongue as you wrap your lips around her digits. And god, she just tastes so fucking good. You really are a whore for it.

"Bitch," Gawon huffs. Each contact of your thighs reverberates through the steamy room. Your body strains and jerks under her. Yunjin's fingers are silencing you, at least, lessening the risk of people entering.

Gawon's signs intensify. Her moans reach higher notes. The arms on your ribs are trembling. Her breathing quickens. She's close.

Gawon is not the only one close to bursting. You can feel the pulsing of your cock within her cunt. Your lips suckle on Yunjin's fingers more and more fiercely. That familiar feeling is building up inside your loins. You're close.

"I-I'm cumming, Gawon," you rasp with Yunjin's finger inside your mouth. Your hands go for Gawon's lean waist, brushing your thumbs against the lower swell of her chest.

"Don't fucking pull out. Don't fucking pull—"

The first of her juice touches your skin. Her face lights up in ecstasy—mouth agape, eyes shut, breathing halts. The entire body of hers freezes, unable to find any word to describe the state of her own heaven. Her cut nails dig into your flesh harshly. Oh, she's loving this. She's loving your cock.

You follow suit. The second orgasm of the day crashes over your body. You writhe under the immense pleasure, cock pulsing inside the warm, velvety walls of Lee Gawon's cunt. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with Yunjin's digits inside your mouth.

"My goodness, it's coming out so much. It's hitting my womb so well," Gawon sings.

You gradually come down from your peaks, moans grow quieter and quieter. Gawon merely sits on you with a cock inside of her pussy, drizzling globs of cum into her wet, pretty insides. You just bred her good.

Yunjin pulls her fingers out of your mouth, leaving you feeling empty again. Gawon lifts herself off you, sending that oversensitivity all over your body. Strings of your sticky cum connects your cock and her puffy cunt. What a sight.

"Since you bred me a little too good, I'll give you my sweaty, smelly shorts. How does that sound, huh?" Gawon asks. Your cock leaves her with a small pop.

"Mine too," Yunjin adds. "Don't wash it, baby."

This is one of the easiest questions you've ever gotten in your life.

"Sure."

—

#yunjin #gawon #le sserafim #meovv #yunjin smut #gawon smut #le sserafim smut #meovv smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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bytemee · 4 months ago

Text

RECOVERY — YU JIMIN.

“learned a lot through trial and error, tryna make it right.”

synopsis. karina’s been holding onto her pride for so long, but seeing you with someone else? it hits hard. and she doesn’t know how to handle it.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). angst, jealous!karina, she's very toxic, miscommunication, mentions of drinking, and um let me know if there's more

words. 3.6k

authors note. jealous karina!!! everyone celebrates in sync while jumping up and down

navigation. main masterlist. series masterlist. prev. next.

being wrong? yeah, karina would never admit it. she always had to be right, even when the evidence clearly proved otherwise. it was frustrating trying to have a rational conversation with her because she would never back down from her stance, no matter how illogical it seemed.

it was the way she crossed her arms and set her jaw like a locked safe. or the way her eyes narrowed into slits and her nostrils flared. it was the way her lips pursed and the way her body stiffened, like she was preparing for a fight.

but with you? you were different. you didn’t argue for the sake of winning. you wanted understanding, compromise. that’s what made it all worse. you had been patient with karina for so long, more patient than she ever deserved. and now, after everything, after all that patience, she had finally managed to chase you away.

who she chased you away to? that was the worst part.

karina saw you walking into the sorority house after months of silence. her heart nearly stopped. you hadn’t been back here since the last fight—the one where everything between you had shattered.

but now you were back for her, right? obviously.

karina’s lips twitched into a smug smile. you finally came to your senses. you must have realized you’d overreacted, that you couldn’t stay away forever. maybe you were here to apologize. maybe you were here to grovel.

her chest filled with anticipation when your eyes locked across the crowded room. that familiar ache bloomed inside her chest—the look you used to give her, the one that made her feel like the only person in the world. she felt her confidence returning.

but then, just as quickly, the air brushed past her.

wonyoung’s dark hair bounced as she skipped up to you, throwing her arms around your neck. she laughed before her lips pressed against your cheek in a kiss that karina felt like a dagger in her chest.

you didn’t pull away. instead, your eyes softened, and your hands came to rest on wonyoung's hips, pulling her close. you spoke, but the music and the distance were too loud for karina to hear what was said. all she could do was watch, helpless, as she laced her fingers with yours before leading you down the hall.

now wonyoung had you.

karina’s sorority sister. the same wonyoung who had run against her for president last year, who always seemed to be just one step behind her—or, depending on the day, ahead. they’d made peace for the sake of appearances, for the sake of the sorority. but there was always an underlying tension. a competition.

you had been karina's loyal puppy for quite a while, and she'd thrown it all away. she was too stubborn to realize what she'd had until it was too late. and now, as karina watched you and wonyoung together from afar, her heart twisted in her chest.

she missed you. she was furious at you. but more than anything, she was jealous. jealous that wonyoung had been the one to steal you away. jealous that wonyoung would be the one who got to keep you.

karina hated feeling out of control. and jealousy? that was the worst kind of chaos.

the next morning, she walked into the kitchen of the sorority house to find you standing at the counter with wonyoung.

you were chopping fruit—distracted, slow, like your thoughts were somewhere else. wonyoung stood beside you, leaning against the counter with her head tilted, watching you with a lazy, amused smile. she kept nudging you with her shoulder every few moments, drawing small chuckles from you.

karina's heart squeezed in her chest. this wasn't fair.

her gaze darkened when wonyoung reached out, snagging a strawberry from the bowl you’d just filled. “hey!” you protested, but she simply grinned before popping it in her mouth. “i spent, like, a whole minute cutting that.”

“and you can cut another,” wonyoung teased.

“morning.” she didn’t mean to sound curt, but the word came out harsh. your eyes lifted, and her heart stopped. you looked good. really good. like the months away from her had done you some good.

then, you went back to cutting fruit like she didn't even exist.

that hurt more than she expected.

“hope you didn’t ruin the kitchen,” karina said tightly, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and leaning into your personal space. your shoulders were tense, your eyes were focused on the cutting board, and your mouth was pressed into a thin line.

wonyoung arched a brow. “you mean we’re not allowed to eat strawberries in here? i must’ve missed the rule.”

the two locked eyes for a long, tense beat.

“i don’t remember anyone asking you to be part of this conversation,” karina shot back.

your brows furrowed, and you turned to wonyoung.

a smirk twisted her lips. the brunette took a step closer to you, her hand coming up to play with a strand of your hair. her voice was light and playful. "do i need permission from the president?"

karina’s eyes narrowed. she had no time for this little game. not today. not ever.

karina turned her gaze back to the fridge, grabbing the juice and pouring herself a glass. then, without a word, she swept past the two of you, leaving the kitchen.

later that week, karina saw you again. this time, you were sitting on the sorority house’s front porch, stretched out on the bench swing with your laptop open. wonyoung sat next to you, head resting on your shoulder while you scrolled through whatever was on the screen.

karina tried not to look. she really did. but her feet refused to keep moving, and her eyes refused to leave the sight of you.

it was supposed to be her sitting beside you.

supposed to be her fingers brushing against yours as you scrolled through playlists, talking about which songs to add to your shared playlist.

wonyoung wasn’t part of the picture. she shouldn’t be.

her fists clenched again, and before she could stop herself, karina stormed over.

"what the hell are you doing?"

you glanced up, confused."i'm not supposed to use the front porch?"

"don’t play dumb," karina snapped, her eyes darting between you and wonyoung. "i’m talking about this."

wonyoung slowly lifted her head from your shoulder, arching a brow. “last i checked, we don’t need your permission to sit here.”

you looked between them, clearly confused.

karina didn't care.

"well, this is the official property of our sorority. and i'm the president. so, if i say no, no one gets to sit here. not even you."

wonyoung leaned back, rolling her eyes. "so, you're the president, and therefore the dictator. is that how it works?"

karina ignored her, crossing her arms over her chest. her eyes landed on you, and her throat tightened. "get up."

you blinked.

"excuse me?"

"did i stutter? i said get up. you're not supposed to be here."

you exchanged a glance with wonyoung. a look that said, what's gotten into her? she knew that look. she'd seen it a thousand times before.

"this is the best spot for wi-fi," you argued, closing your laptop and rising to your feet. "and no one said we can't be here."

"well, i'm saying it now," karina bit back.

"oh, come on."

"i'm serious."

wonyoung rose too, taking a step toward karina. "no one's making you stay. go be the president somewhere else. you're ruining the mood."

karina's lips curled into a smile. "that's cute, that you think you can tell me what to do."

you stepped between them. "look, let's not do this. i'll go inside, okay?"

"no," wonyoung cut in. "i'm not letting her walk all over us like that. why are you letting her tell you what to do? the way she’s bothered is so pathetic.”

your eyes widened.

"pathetic? you have no idea what pathetic is. you've had your foot on my back since the day we met, and now that you finally got the upper hand, you can't stop gloating." karina snapped back.

wonyoung tilted her chin up, defiant. "if i'm so far below you, then why can't you just let us be?"

the words caught in her throat. she didn't have an answer. she wanted an excuse. an explanation.

because this isn't fair.

because y/n’s mine.

but the words never came.

instead, karina felt her cheeks burn. she was humiliated. again. in front of the one person she couldn't afford to look weak in front of.

karina’s silence was louder than any retort she could have thrown back. wonyoung’s question hung heavy in the air, the weight of it pressing down on all of you.

you shifted uncomfortably, watching karina’s face twist with emotions she couldn’t seem to hide. for once, the perfectly composed, untouchable sorority president looked completely lost.

“karina—” you started softly, but she cut you off with a sharp shake of her head.

“don’t,” she said, her voice raw.

before you could say another word, she turned and stalked away, disappearing back into the sorority house. the slam of the door echoed across the front lawn.

“she’s used to getting what she wants,” wonyoung muttered. “let her walk away.”

but you weren’t sure it was that simple. you weren’t sure karina wanted to walk away at all.

the confrontation came two days later.

the study lounge was quiet, save for the soft hum of music in your earbuds. you sat at a small table, flipping through notes and tapping your pen rhythmically on the edge of your notebook. occasionally, you hummed along, lost in thought.

that is, until the chair across from you scraped against the floor. you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

karina settled down in the chair, tossing her bag on the table. you kept your gaze on the papers spread out in front of you. you couldn't avoid this forever. you didn't look up or say anything.

but she did.

"i thought you were better than this."

her words were sharp enough to pierce through your focus, but you didn’t react right away. instead, you finished writing the sentence you were on, letting the silence stretch out.

"better than what?" you asked, voice carefully neutral.

"wonyoung." karina’s tone turned brittle. “why are you still hanging around her?”

you finally looked up, your brows knitting together. “not that it’s any of your business, but we’re hanging out.”

karina’s eyes narrowed. her leg bounced under the table, restless and agitated. “you think i don’t see what you’re doing?”

your head tilted slightly, incredulity rising. “what i’m doing?”

“yes.” her jaw tightened as if holding back something explosive. “you’re parading around with her like—like—”

your expression flattened, unimpressed. “like what, karina? just say it.”

karina was quiet for a moment. it wasn't like her to hold her tongue. when she spoke, her voice was low, and her eyes flashed dark. "you're trying to get back at me."

it’s funny, you said the same thing to her on that fateful night. and she’s finally beginning to understand how you felt.

“unbelievable,” you muttered. “you can’t stand the idea of not being in control, can you? you pushed me away, karina. you didn’t want me—”

she scoffed, but you continued before she could interrupt.

“—and now, just because someone else might actually give me the time of day, you’re throwing a fit.”

her face twisted. “it’s not like that.”

“then what is it like?” you challenged. “explain it to me.”

karina paused, her hands curling into fists. she looked conflicted. like she wanted to say something but was struggling to get the words out. finally, her gaze dropped, and her voice softened. "i miss you."

you froze, eyes widening. that was not what you expected to hear.

"i miss you, and i want you back." this was the closest karina had ever come to admitting that she'd made a mistake. her confession hung heavy in the air, waiting for a response.

you stared at her.

"oh, you miss me? how long did it take for you to finally admit that?"

karina's expression hardened.

"are you still mad about the videos?"

"how could i not be?"

"it's not like it meant anything," karina snapped.

"it was humiliating," you shot back.

"i was drunk."

"no excuse."

"you disappeared," karina retorted, her eyes narrowing. "you left without a word. i needed you, and you weren't there. what did you expect me to do?"

your throat tightened. "i told you it was a family emergency. i thought—" you stopped, shaking your head. "it doesn't matter. we're done, karina. you made sure of that."

karina's nostrils flared. "don't act like you're the victim. if anyone's the victim here, it's me."

"you're unbelievable."

"i'm the victim," karina insisted, her voice rising. "you're the one who abandoned me when i needed you the most. you're the one who walked away and decided to start over with someone else. i never asked for any of this."

your anger faded, replaced by a heavy, tired sadness. “you treated me like a toy, karina. i was always there when you needed something. and when you didn’t, i was discarded like trash.”

“you were never trash,” karina said through gritted teeth.

“yeah? well, you made me feel like it.”

karina’s anger simmered, but there was something else beneath it now—hurt. “how dare you say that. i never treated you like trash. you’re the one who left me. you’re the one who chose wonyoung.”

“i didn’t choose anyone,” you shot back, slamming your hand on the table. “i left because i was hurt. i’m not going to take responsibility for your decisions. i was done being treated like shit. you have no idea how much it hurts to love someone who turns their back on you.”

you grabbed your bag, throwing it over your shoulder. “i’m done with this conversation.”

she stared at you, speechless.

the valentine’s day movie night was supposed to be a tradition. last year, it was one of karina’s favorite memories—the two of you sharing a blanket, fingers laced under the covers, sneaking kisses when no one was looking. now she was walking into the same room alone; well, she had a bottle of wine in hand to keep her company.

when she spotted you walking in with wonyoung, something inside her cracked. wonyoung was practically glued to your side, her arm looped through yours and her head resting on your shoulder.

she couldn’t even focus on the movie.

all she could see was the way wonyoung snuggled into your side, the way you whispered in her ear and brushed a strand of hair from her face. the way wonyoung reached out, tracing a fingertip over your jawline, drawing a small, private smile from you.

it was almost too much. so she drank.

one glass. two. three.

by the time the movie ended, wonyoung leaned over to yujin, murmuring something about their plans for the next day. the crowd thinned out, but karina stayed glued to her seat, her eyes fixed on the paused ending credits. she stared, unmoving, lost in thought, her shoulders drooping, and her cheeks and glassy eyes made it clear she’d had too much.

it didn't take long for someone to notice.

“karina.” you approached cautiously, your eyes lingering on the empty wine bottle. you didn’t mean to stare, but it was a stark contrast to the poised, controlled karina that everyone else knew. the sorority president blinked, raising her gaze. it took her a moment to recognize you. she didn’t respond.

you stood in front of her, studying her face. your expression was unreadable. she tried not to wince.

karina cleared her throat, straightening up.

"what?" she croaked, her voice rough from disuse.

"you look like you could use some help," you said, reaching a hand out. she didn’t know why, but the gesture felt like an olive branch. her eyes darted between your face and your hand. she hesitated, then nodded, taking your hand.

her body felt heavy, but the touch sent sparks up her arm. your skin was warm—soft, familiar. karina stumbled slightly, and your other hand instinctively wrapped around her waist, steadying her.

her breath hitched.

you guided her to her room, careful to avoid the rest of the girls scattered throughout the house, drinking and celebrating. the lights were off, the room shrouded in silence. karina sank onto the bed, her body slumping as exhaustion weighed her down.

without a word, she reached out and grabbed your hand, her fingers trembling. then the tears came.

“i’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “i—i’m so sorry. i was wrong.”

her sobs wracked her small frame as she clung to your hand. “i was selfish. i pushed you away because i didn’t know how to handle how much i needed you. and then i saw you with her, and it hurt so much, but it was my fault.”

you sighed again, softer this time. “karina—”

“please,” she interrupted, her eyes pleading. “please forgive me. i know i messed everything up, but i can’t stand this anymore. i miss you. i miss us.”

before you could even think about leaving, she stood up and buried her face in your shoulder, her sobs muffled by the fabric of your hoodie. your hand instinctively found her back, rubbing slow circles as she tried to steady her breathing.

"please don't go," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. the silence stretched out, and for a moment, you were tempted to pull away and leave her. it would be easier that way. but when you looked at her face, her tear-stained cheeks and red eyes, you couldn't find the will to walk away. “come on,” you murmured gently. “let’s get you cleaned up.”

leading her to the bathroom, you turned on the tap, letting her wash her tear-streaked face. she winced at her reflection in the mirror, eyes swollen and red, but didn’t say anything as you handed her a towel. you stayed beside her while she brushed her teeth, holding her steady when she swayed slightly.

when she finished, you helped her sit down on the edge of the sink counter. for a moment, neither of you spoke. karina stared at her hands. her throat was dry, and her head was still fuzzy from the wine.

“i’m not…with wonyoung,” you said finally, breaking the quiet. “we’re just two people who happen to spend time together. there’s nothing romantic going on.”

karina’s head snapped up, her eyes filled with both surprise and relief. “but you—”

“she’s a friend,” you cut in firmly. “that’s all. no one ever took your place.”

her lips trembled, but she didn’t cry again. instead, she reached for your hand once more. “i’m sorry i hurt you. i never meant to do that. i was scared. i am scared. i don't want to lose you. not to anyone else."

"karina—"

"i'm serious."

"i know."

she squeezed her eyes shut. "i'm so stupid."

"yes, you are." you nodded slowly, if karina wasn’t so tipsy she would’ve shot a glare your way. then you exhaled, “i left because i was hurt. i needed space to figure things out. and i still need time, okay? but… i'm not going anywhere."

her shoulders slumped. "promise?"

"promise." you leaned forward, brushing her hair behind her ear. your thumb caressed her cheek. her heart fluttered. "you're too pretty to cry."

her face flushed. she couldn’t meet your eyes, but she didn't pull away. her gaze dropped to your lips. you could smell the alcohol on her breath.

"come here." you reached out and wrapped her arms around your neck.

"what are you doing?"

"putting you to bed. you need to sleep off the wine."

"but i don't want to sleep," she whispered. her hands slid under your jacket, her fingertips trailing along the bare skin of your lower back. the feeling sent a shiver down your spine. "what do you want?" you asked softly.

"for you to stay," she murmured.

your eyes fluttered closed. "i can't."

"why?"

"because it's not a good idea."

"it's always been a good idea."

you chuckled lightly, opening your eyes to meet hers. they were wide and pleading, and she couldn't hide the hope in them. her gaze softened, but you stayed firm. "sleep first, karina. we'll talk more when you wake up."

reluctantly, she nodded. you helped her lie down, pulling the blanket over her. she shifted slightly, watching you as you slid into the bed beside her. without a word, she scooted closer, resting her head against your chest. her hair tickled your skin.

"this is what you want, right?"

"yes," she murmured, closing her eyes. she snuggled into your side. her body was inviting and light. her fingers trailed lazily across your stomach, drawing patterns on the fabric of your shirt. "can you hold me, please?"

your hand traced along the curve of her spine, coming to rest on her hip. she hummed quietly, nuzzling her cheek against your chest. your heart pounded. her breathing slowed, evening out as sleep finally claimed her. you stayed there, your fingers tracing absentminded patterns on her skin, until the softness of her body against yours and the rhythmic sound of her breathing lulled you to sleep.

when karina woke up, the sunlight streaming through the window made her squint. she reached out, but her hand met an empty space. her heart dropped for a moment, panic settling in—until the door creaked open.

you walked in, hair messy from sleep, wearing a loose shirt and boxers, two steaming cups of coffee in hand. "morning," you greeted softly.

she sat up, pushing her hair back. "you stayed?"

"of course i did." you handed her a cup, settling on the edge of the bed. she took a sip, her hands still a little shaky.

“wonyoung texted you,” you mentioned casually, setting your coffee down on the nightstand.

her brow furrowed. she grabbed her phone. sure enough, there was a new text waiting for her.

wonyoung: she was my stray :(

karina: you must’ve been feeding her cheap treats. she’s back where she belongs. hope you’re doing well!

she rolled her eyes. "stupid."

"hey."

"not you." she smiled at you.

you stared at her for a few moments before humming. “so…we should talk."

she nodded.

taglist - @brocoliisscared @spidrgamer @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje @kyakpack @snsgf @sscieloz @fruityg0rl

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holeforzenin · 1 year ago

Text

Tw- Anal, Degradation, Buttplug usage mentioned, literally pure filth. So sorry for any errors.

Thinking about mean men with literally no fucking word filter, even if it's something embarrassing or weird he doesn't give a fuck, he loves seeing the way your cheeks get red while he whispers the dirtiest and weirdest shit to you while he's pounding you stupid.

Letting him fuck your ass was probably the worse idea ever, he had you bent over with your back arched uncomfortablely, face down ass up with your cute stringy thong pulled to the side with his cock stuffed in your asshole, he couldn't resist pushing it all the way in to the hilt, not with the way your tiny hole is squeezing and clenching around him sooo tightly.

"Fuckk baby look at that tight little asshole sucking on my cock like a lollipop" he groans, eyes rolling back of his head as he continues bullying his thick cock into your poor hole, heavy cum filled balls slapping against your clit as your cunt flutters around nothing. You kept your head buried into the pillow in embarrassment not daring to move as your muffled moans filled the room.

"Such a good little anal slut f'me aren't ya baby?What a fucking tight greedy hole you got here princess, might have to let me use this one more often" he smirks obviously knowing you can't respond to him or at least won't because he knows exactly what he's tryna do, he knows how shy you are with these things so why not have a little fun?

He brought his thumb down to your clit, rubbing sloppy slow circles on it while landing a harsh slap on your ass cheek, the sudden sensation making your body jolt unexpectedly while you cry into the pillow, his cock pistoling into your stretched hole recklessly as he felt his balls tighten, he starts picking up the pace, strong hands gripping onto your waist as he quickly changes position, planting his feet on the bed as he hammers his fat girth into your ass deeper and deeper

"Holy fuck I'm gonna cum, gonna let me stuff this dirty hole full of my cum yeah? Then maybe I'll even plug it up with that cute heart plug I got you so you can walk around with my cum dumped deep in your butthole with the plug stuffing it in like the filthy anal slut you are, without a single soul knowing, yeah? Bet you'd like that, whore".

You couldn't help but whimper to his filthy words, needy pussy dripping and leaky on the bed to that nasty thought, he felt his dick twitching inside of you as your cockhungry hole spasms around him, sucking him even more and threatening to milk the life out of him, he looked down at where the two of you were connected and the way your asshole swallows and welcomes his cock in was well enough for him to blow his load deep in your ass, hot ropes of cum feeding your greedy hungry hole as he continues fucking you through it, fucking his semen deeper and deeper inside of you to make sure it's well buried deep so he can plug it up and take you to a dinner date after :3

Toji, Sukuna, Gojo, Bakugou, Geto, Dabi, Kirishima, Aizen, Simon Ghost Riley + Whoever you want.

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randomshyperson · 1 year ago

Text

The Bed Issue - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Another retake of Wandavision, this time, the scene with the two single beds.

Warnings: (+18) pure smut, enchanted strap, fingering, creampie, wanda is in charge but r tops, dirty talking, some typical Westview angst (brief reality alteration) but purely sinful | Words: 3.284k

A/N-> At this point, I feel I should start a new collection with all the scenes I rewrote. I miss writing series people, where are my ideas. Also, sorry if there are too many spelling errors, I wrote this on my phone (it's hard to be poor and busy). But good reading!

General Masterlist | AO3

-&-

The sign of two single beds in the room made you giggle right away.

Wanda, who walked in first, looked back at you with curiosity. Her gaze scanned your face as she asked: “What's funny, darling?”

Your eyes found her and a deep sigh escaped your lips, the ghost of that giggle still present in your expression.

“The beds, Wanda.” You replied quickly, almost offended she couldn't see the absurdity of that. Maybe she was playing innocent. Or at least, that's what her confused gaze looked like. Another sign escaped you. “Why would a married couple sleep on different beds, side by side?”

“Well, I…” but she cut herself mid-sentence, her gaze shifted as if she realized that really didn't make any sense. “I guess you're right.”

The bed moved as quickly as her fingers - the wood jumping to the side to connect and transform into one bed. You smile, moving forward to kiss your wife's cheek.

“Lovely tricks as always, darling.” You praise, catching the soft color rising up her skin before you step to the bathroom. But you comment again, giggling: “How odd that was, two beds.”

Distracted by your own joke, you didn't catch Wanda's shoulder tension. And she could only force a smile, giving a quick gaze at your figure brushing your teeth while mentality praying that for the sake of her poor heart, you wouldn't notice any other weirdness tonight.

-&-

A stupid tree.

A stupid tree branch against the window and things got out of hand completely. At least this time, in a good sense of things.

That is because Wanda found herself pressed into the bed, giggling at our bold hands under her clothes.

She remembers this teasing all too well. Beyond the sexual tension, and the teenage hormones, there was intimacy. You could always make her laugh, no matter the situation. Often, you would do that in inappropriate ones that's for sure. Just for the satisfaction of making her blush deeply when apologizing to whoever was around to testify you making a mess out of her. And then when in a situation like tonight, where it was too hard to breathe and too warm for a coherent thought - teasing fingers where she had tickles was the perfect way to ease her anxiety. To anchor her back and remember it's just you. Her best friend. Warming your way around her skin.

But things were a little - a lot - different in Westview. Neither of you knows why or how, or better saying, Wanda knew to a different extent than you.

When she brought the covers up your bodies, taking the lead for the night and expecting to meet your eagerness to kiss her again, she was met with more giggles.

She stared down at your shiny eyes, leaning into the hand you brought to her cheek.

“It's too warm here.” You let her know softy, and yes, Wanda was quite aware. Kissing you was more than enough to heat her entirely, but doing this under the covers was a challenge. She could feel the sweat starting to drip. She was ready to say she didn't mind, maybe even kiss you to change the subject when you added: “Why would you cover us anyway, darling? There's no one watching.”

It was meant to be a joke, obviously. You don't know. You couldn't know. And your eyes were innocent and your smile was sincere and Wanda hesitated.

Your hand remains on her cheek, the caress never stopping.

“Did I say something wrong? Where did you go just now?”

She went outside. Outside the hex, all the way to monitors transmitting her sitcom of a fake life. But not really. Because she didn't consciously know about any of this. Yet, some part of her mind did know, and all the TVs that once exhibited her little show, now hold a Stand By sign.

Wanda was the one who threw the covers aside. The fresh air was well welcome but you're now distracted with the gorgeous woman moving to straddle your hips.

“You're right, there's no one watching.” She says with the same urgency she burst open your pajama shirt. You don't understand the rush, but she looks too pretty for you to disagree. And Wanda purrs at the sight of your naked skin, biting her lips like a naughty child. “I missed you.”

You chuckle breathlessly, some confusion in your eyes. “I was with you all day.”

She shook her head, deciding now to control her tongue. If she doesn't want you questioning, she needs to stop saying things like this. So she forces a smile, shifting against your hips in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I always miss my wife, I mean. Whenever she's not touching me.”

Even though you offer her a grin, there's a blush in your cheeks that goes down your chest and Wanda suddenly doesn't feel like talking anymore.

A feeling you two seem to share as you bring a hand to her face only to pull her down at you again. It's a heated kiss. With tongue and breathy whispers that turn her into needy sounds.

Even without the covers, it's soon too hot to keep clothes on.

You're the one who takes her nightgown off. Pulling down as your tongues dance together, until the item no longer hides the tits you started to play it.

Wanda's eyes are tightly closed as your mouth sucks her nipple. Your hand plays with the other while she struggles to breathe.

Her top needs to go, but so does all the other clothing. The nightgown barely reached the floor and you're already pulling at her soaked panties, eager to feel her inside.

“Need this off you now, witchy.” The nickname makes her gasp. You haven't used it until now and it has been way too long since she heard. Since you-

No. No thinking about this, not now.

She forces herself back to the present, an easy task when she feels every inch of her skin burning with your touch. She needs to move away to take the item off but your hands hold her tight by the waist at the mere attempt of breaking apart.

She giggles breathlessly, aware of the new wave of wetness that dripped down with the feeling of your strong hands manhandling her back at her position, keeping her restless hips still. “But you said you wanted it off.” She tries to ration, receiving only a growl in return. The next second, when your hands shift, the item is torn off her without ceremony.

“Hey! It was my favorite.” She pouts in protest but you merely give her a husky chuckle.

“I'm sure you can fix it.” Comes as a teasing answer that Wanda couldn't contradict even if she wanted to - all previous thoughts are gone when your fingers reach her front and penetrate between her warm folds without a warning. You groan at the delirious feeling of her pussy against your fingertips while Wanda whimpers at the ceiling, trying to get used to the sudden invasion.

“Fuck, you're so tight.” Your remark with a sultry voice against her ear. Wanda's arm circles your shoulder for some support while she feels the stretch of your fingers inside her. It's been a while since last time but dear God how she missed this. Her hips move on instinct and you have to chuckle at her impatience with herself. Your free hand moves to her lower back, caressing her skin while your fingers start to press your way inside her.

“Easy darling, I got you.” You guide, too deeply for her to give you any replies other than pleas and whimpers. The position might not be the most comfortable for you but it's amazing to her. Wanda can grind down and ride your fingers as she pleases and you can feel how close she's coming to her climax so you don't dare to stop. Your thumb moves to her clit, circling the nerve and she nearly loses it. The bedroom lights start to flash with the build of this orgasm and you stare at her in amazement only to be rewarded with her gorgeous flushed face while she grinds into your hand in nearly despair.

“Fuck you're so beautiful.” You gasp, increasing the speed. The depth. Wanda breaks in a sob, her back arching. The first one is a charm. Your name is being screamed at the ceiling while you feel her wetness dripping down your hand. Unfortunately - or fortunately - it only makes you crave her more. She's still recovering from the intensity of this climax, all sweaty and flushed when you shift your hand. You're still inside her tight walls and your fingers start to pick up a pace again. She squeaks at the overstimulation, but her protest dies in your tongue sucking hers when you kiss her again.

Wanda's almost too distracted by the filthy of this kiss to notice how quickly her second climax is building - almost. There's a bite against your bottom lip that makes you groan when she breaks the kiss, unable to keep it up. Her hands grab at you for some grounding when she feels how close she is to come, stronger than the last time. You feel her nails piercing your skin when her orgasm washes over her and it's your time to moan at her ear.

Her body goes limp for a moment after this. It was two intense orgasms in a row after all. She just needs to take a breath.

You move your fingers out, sucking them clean and murmuring satisfied at her taste while Wanda struggles to recognize her surroundings.

When you can hold her with both hands again, you nuzzle at her cheek.

“Enjoying yourself, witchy?” You dare to tease her when she can feel how she's still leaking in your lap. Honestly, the nerve. Wanda let out a deep breath, pushing her momentarily tiredness away.

There's an easy smile on her lips when she finds your eyes again. “I am but I've been so selfish.” She starts with a particular accentuation of her ascent that she knows you drive you insane. She also watches as your breath catches and your eyes drift to her lips, mesmerized by every word. “You must be needing me as well.”

But you tense at her nails screeching your belly, a worried frown coming at your expression.

“Wanda… my powers.” The fear in your eyes is like a cold buck of water. Oh, yes, she forgot.

For the whole day, she forgot you had no idea of the life you two shared. Nothing outside Westview and this lovely fantasy. None of the creative ways you two once used to bypass the super strength issue. Your fear and hesitation at hurting her made perfect sense but the fact that she was the only one who could remember the whole history you two shared was still painful. Her expression probably gave her away and confused you even more. “I promise you this is more than enough for me. Bringing you pleasure is enough.” You add gently, but Wanda shakes her head, leaning in to kiss you. She leaves you breathlessly before breaking apart, taking some pride in the way you're blushing.

“Don't be silly, darling, there's plenty of things for us to do together. To please one another.” You gulp at her words and tone of voice, eyes following all of her movements. From the shift of her hips to the teasing of her fingers on the way down your pants. “I wanna try something I think you'll love it. Do you trust me?”

You nod immediately, watching as Wanda's fingers play with the hem of your pants. She giggles naughty at your anticipation and brings one finger up to your chin, to make you look at her eyes again.

“Can you use your words?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallow, trying to win some composure back. It's not easy when Wanda Maximoff is naked and sitting on your tight. But you smile anyway. “Of course I trust you, witchy.”

She smiles at you, her eyes flashing a glimmer of naughtiness that makes your heart leap. You can't worry too much about that anyway - Wanda leans in to kiss you again. And it's the dirtiest one of the night. She takes the lead, pulling back now and then just to tease your tongue with the tip of hers, reveling at the way you pant and struggle to keep your hips still.

But suddenly, you feel the new pressure inside your pants. The odd sensation shifts your attention entirely but Wanda brings her hands to your neck and kisses you hard. You moan into her tongue, hands holding her tight by the waist until her spell is complete. She presses down into you and the kiss is broken with your needy awareness.

“F-fuck, is that…?” You open surprised and aroused eyes at her, looking down where your middles connect only to watch Wanda's equal affected state. Her trembling hands reach down at your pants, trying to pull the garment off.

“Yeah, and I really need you inside now, alright baby? Think you're ready for me?” Her words are rushed as her fingers. Your pants and underwear are stuck in an awkward position on your thighs because Wanda is too impatient to wait another second. She grabs the hardness - barely giving you time to get used to the image or more important the feeling - of that scarlet strap magically placed there - before she sinks down.

It's a form of revenge, maybe. For the way you didn't give her time to prepare before, but what a sweet revenge that was.

The nearly animalistic grunt that escaped you when Wanda's cunt squeezed around you was a sound you didn't know you could make. She, on the other hand, rewards your ears with a pleasant deep moan while she adjusts to the fullness. There's also a new stretch. The toy is obviously larger than your fingers and goes deliciously deeper so Wanda needs to take a deep breath while she welcomes you in.

To her delight, not that you can remember this, but just like the first time you two tried, it's too much of a new overwhelming pleasure for you to handle. You came almost the same second you're bottom up. Tensing and shaking at the new feeling. You gasp, hands falling at the sides to grab the sheets that are torn apart while you hide your face into her neck and your climax washes over you.

Wanda giggles in amusement. The hot shot inside her feels as good as she remembers and you haven't changed. But the toy softening causes you to panic.

“S-sorry, god, I'm so sorry. I don't-”

“Shh, it's okay.” She cuts your anxious babbling immediately, firming her legs around you and bringing her hands to hold your cheeks. “I know it feels like a real one, but it's not a real one.” She says and without any warning, grinds down at you, stealing all the air of your lungs. Wanda bites her lip before adding “See? You're hard again already.”

You can't give her words. The only thing that leaves your mouth is a whine that makes her clench around you.

Suddenly, she's moving. Rough grinding before she's undeniably riding your strap and it's dirty and maddeningly sexy so your hands hold her hips and help her when her body starts to betray her wishes to keep going.

“Oh, Wanda, you feel so nice.” You moan with your eyes closed, outside the shared grunts and your words, the only sounds of the room are the bed creaking and the soaked toy coming in and out of her. Your lovely wife decides to give you a reason to be louder. Her hands push you back at the bed and now you can see her in all of her glory. Her pretty tits bounce with the hard pace she takes on top of you. “W-wait. Easy, I can't hold it if you-”

Her hands move yours - trying to slow her by the waist - away, locking your fingers together at each side of your head. Her hair makes a curtain for your faces but Wanda kisses you again. Your tongues are still moving together when you come first.

Because you're strong - stronger than her that is - scarlet magic holds you still, wrists and ankles when Wanda can't. She holds her climax just a little longer, enough to put on a show for your breathless figure under her when you are able to look up at it.

It's divine when it occurs - The silent scream, her frown before the blissed worn-out expression. The flags of the light, the room vibrating and her eyes bright red before the dark green meets your gaze again.

She smiles down at you, still shaking but somehow ready for another.

“Enjoying yourself aren't you, Avenger?” she repeats your words from before, but the nickname so often used for teasing makes you frown in confusion.

“What is…? But she changed that before you could finish the question.

As quickly as it happened, the scene shifted as if the words never left her lips. You were staring at her, with uneven breathing and adoring eyes.

“Is this really necessary?” For a second, her heart leaped in fear. The possibility that you could tell she altered things. But your gaze shifted to the magic holding you still, and you offered her a pleading stare. “Won’t you let me touch you?”

Wanda sighs, adjusting your hips and seeing the way your jaw tenses at the slight movement. You're still inside her, always magically stimulated to be hard no matter how many times you come. It made sense that you might be sensitive.

She bit her bottom lip, hands resting on your chest.

“But you look so pretty like this…” She starts, leaning in as if going for a kiss. You sigh as her lips meet your cheeks instead, closing your eyes when you feel her smiling before moving down. “I like having you at my mercy.”

You hum, somewhat distracted by her soft grind against you. If you're hard again, that's not only the magic to blame but Wanda's warm pussy squeezing you still.

“But I'm like this all the time.” you joke earning a husky giggle before she puts some distance between your faces again.

You let out a deep sigh when she pulls out the next second, catching her own soft groan at the emptiness. But your words fail you when you look down and see the mixed cum leaking from her and dripping down your abs.

Cursing under your breath a single “fuck.” at the image, you are not surprised at Wanda's naughty giggle.

“You made such a mess, babe.” She teases, the toy still vibrating and it occurs to you that it doesn't just answer to your arousal, but hers as well.

“Me? You're the one who, you know… ride it. I didn't even know I would come through it.” You tried to defend yourself with rosy cheeks but Wanda is clearly teasing you. She giggles again, adjusting herself and causing you to shut up immediately.

“I think you should stop babbling and start cleaning your mess.”

You swallow hard when you realize she's still moving. Up towards your face. The bed makes a strong crack sound when you use all your strength to pull your hands free from her magic chains.

Wanda allows you to break free. Mainly because she loves to feel your hands holding her thighs open when you eat her out.

Some old habits never die.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff oneshots #wanda maximoff smut

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vanteguccir · 7 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE FARRAR ELEMENYERY SCHOOL IS ALIVE * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　when Sam and Colby bring the Sturniolo Triplets and Y/N, a medium and Matt's girlfriend, to investigate the Farrar Elementary School, they expect only to discover more about its history, but, instead, meet something far darker.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　demon apparition, mediumship, ghost talk, paranormal experiences.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²　::　this happens in the same universe as this and this.

A/N³　::　happy Halloween, guys! 🤍

The lightheartedness grew inside the vast gym when Sam, Colby, Matt, Nick, Chris, and Y/N stepped inside of it. The eerie silence of the halls felt distant now, replaced by the echoing laughter and jokes bouncing off the gym's high walls. It was open, empty, and slightly less oppressive than the narrow corridors they'd been walking through. Their cameras' flashlights created stark beams that cut through the heavy dark, bouncing playfully as they pointed at the distant walls and items scattered across the yellowish floor.

"That is terrifying." Chris joked, pointing to a shadowy open doorway at the far end of the gym. His tone was playful, but the door itself seemed to swallow the light, almost absorbing it into an impenetrable black void.

Colby quickly looked over at Chris with a knowing expression, pointing the camera lans at him.

"That is the Boiler Room." He said in a tone both informative and slightly excited.

"That's not an inviting room at all whatsoever." Chris muttered, laughing, his voice betraying more nervous excitement than genuine fear.

As the group chuckled and commented about it, inching forward, Y/N’s laughter faded as her gaze locked onto the entrance. She felt a wave of something cold and clammy wrap around her, more powerful than the draft in the building.

Being a medium, she was no stranger to spiritual energy, but this... this felt different.

Her chest tightened as chills skittered up her spine, her heart hammering faster the longer she stared into the doorway. The energy was thick, almost tangible, pressing down on her like a weight. It was dark, heavy, and so deeply embedded in the space that she could almost taste it on the air; a mix of anger, pain, and a bitterness that sent icy needles racing through her veins.

Matt, standing near her since the moment they entered the school, quickly noticed her shift in demeanor, his brows knitted in concern.

"Hey, you okay?"

She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze from the doorway to look at him, finding comfort in the middle of ocean blue eyes.

"Yeah... Yeah, there’s just... something wrong in there." She murmured, her voice tight. "It doesn’t feel right."

Colby, overhearing, chuckled nervously.

"Yeah, it’s messed up in there." He admitted, shrugging. "We've been in there once before, but if any of you guys want to go, take the camera and look around."

The words hung heavily in the air, a silent challenge.

Nick and Chris immediately pointed at Matt. They both stepped back, dramatically widening their arms to clear a path to the door, their mischievous smirks only amplifying the tension.

"I mean, we all know who the bravest ones here are." Sam teased from behind them, laughing after receiving an "obviously" look from Nick.

Matt flashed a wide, determined grin, meeting Y/N’s eyes with a spark of excitement. After The Driskell Hotel, he discovered that he loved the thrill of these investigations, and with Y/N there, he almost felt invincible. Y/N’s stomach twisted with a mix of fear and anticipation, but she forced herself to shrug, flashing a nonchalant smile in return.

"Guess we’re doing this." She said, her voice more confident than she felt.

Matt took the camera from Colby, giving a quick smirk to the others.

"I feel like there can’t be anything." He joked, his voice steady, earning whoops and cheers from the guys. Together, he and Y/N led the way, with Chris and Nick following close behind.

As they stepped through the doorway into the Boiler Room, the energy shifted drastically. The air was thick, almost suffocating, clinging to their skin like invisible cobwebs. The once-bright beams of the camera’s flashlight seemed to dim as if the darkness here was absorbing the light itself, drinking it up and leaving nothing but a faint glow around them.

Every step Y/N took felt like wading through tar. Her limbs grew heavy, and with each inhale, it was as though she was breathing in the sorrow, anger, and fear that had seeped into the very concrete walls of the room. Her skin prickled, her head was starting to hurt, and a low hum of energy reverberated through her bones, vibrating up her spine and making her feel unsteady on her feet. Matt was ahead, filming with an almost oblivious bravery, but her steps slowed as they entered deeper into the room.

Pain. A pulse of it shot through her, raw and piercing, making her gasp and clench her hands by her sides as if she could wring it out of her body, her heartbeat echoing on her ears. She tried to keep her expression steady, not wanting to alarm the others, but Matt glanced over his shoulder at her, noticing her pale face and furrowed brow.

She shook her head at his questioning eyes, letting him keep walking ahead of her, allowing him, Chris, and Nick to venture toward the back of the room, where another open doorway beckoned, leading into an even darker, more enclosed space.

"Oh my God, it's bigger than I thought-" Matt started excitedly, being interrupted by a scared Nick.

"Matt! Don't say 'Oh my God' like that!"

Y/N stayed close to the entrance, her gaze fixed on the doorway ahead, the corner of her lips lifting slightly with the brother’s bickering. Something felt profoundly wrong in there, and every instinct in her body screamed for her to turn back, to leave the darkness to its own devices.

She took a step forward right after Chris, but the energy hit her like a physical blow. She stumbled, her legs unsteady as she caught herself against the doorframe. Noticing her falter, Chris immediately turned, his concern flaring.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, you okay?" He asked, reaching to steady her, his hand grasping her arm. But Y/N didn’t hear him, nor did she feel his touch. She was already slipping away, pulled into a vision so intense it drowned out reality.

She was now surrounded by towering flames that crackled with a furious intensity. They licked up the walls around her, swallowing everything in a bright, blistering heat. Through the blaze, a young woman appeared, engulfed in flames, her face twisted in agonizing terror. The woman’s scream sliced through the air; a raw, primal sound unlike anything Y/N had ever heard before. Instinctively, her hands flew up to her ears, desperately trying to block out the agonizing cry. It was a cry of pure pain and desperation, the kind that lingered, sinking into the skin and soul.

Then, she saw him. A tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows behind the woman, his face obscured by the darkness but his presence unmistakably menacing. He loomed over her, radiating a sick, cold satisfaction as the woman screamed, flames rising higher around them. Y/N could feel it, all the malice rolling off the man, thick and suffocating, causing her to gulp, her eyes widening in terror when the man's eyes flickered from the woman to hers.

He couldn't see her, could he?

As the flickering of a lightning, three distinct figures appeared behind the man before vanishing completely, and just as suddenly as it began, the vision ended, leaving Y/N cold, breathless, and disoriented, the horrifying images imprinted in her mind.

Her surroundings snapped back into focus, the dimly lit Boiler Room reappearing around her in hazy fragments. She gasped, struggling to ground herself, her eyes searching around the room frantically, but as her vision cleared, her stomach twisted with a sickening dread. There, in the center of the second room, right in between the other two doorways, crouched a figure that defied anything she’d ever encountered, even in her darkest visions.

This wasn’t a spirit; she could feel the difference. The creature hunched low, its bony hands splayed across the grimy floor, its body twisted and contorted, as if barely contained within the physical plane. Shadows clung to its grotesque form, an aura of darkness so thick it devoured any light that dared come near. Its mottled skin was stretched and scarred, warped with unnatural shapes, as though stitched together from nightmares.

And then, she saw its eyes; deep, glowing red, like embers of molten rage, burning into her with a cruel, penetrating awareness. Those eyes locked onto her, narrowing with a sinister recognition. It knew she could see it, sense it, and understand the threat it posed. The fury in its gaze was suffocating, an anger so intense it filled the room, pressing down on her, trapping her in place.

Before she could gather herself, a voice oozed into her mind, cold and sharp as a dagger, each word dripping with malice. "Don’t tell anyone."

The command reverberated through her skull, a dark echo that chilled her to her core. She felt her heart hammering, her pulse quickening as a frigid terror clawed its way up her spine. The demon remained crouched, but its body tensed, coiled like a predator about to strike.

A whimper scaped from Y/N's throat when it began to inch forward, its gaze never wavering, as if relishing the fear it instilled with each calculated, crawling step.

"Y/N?" Matt’s voice was distant, but it cut through the fog of terror consuming her. She couldn’t respond, frozen in place as the demon drew nearer, dragging itself across the dirty ground, echoing with a disgusting sound of skin pressing against pebbles, her mind trapped in the paralyzing scene.

"What's happening? Why is she looking like that?" Chris's voice sounded muffled, dripping with anxiety, worry, and fear, his hand still holding her arms.

"Baby?" This time, Matt’s voice was sharper, laced with urgency. She felt a shift as he tossed the camera to Nick, then rushed to her side. His presence was solid, grounding, and he wrapped a protective arm around her waist, pulling her close as he tried to get her attention while shielding her from whatever it was that she was seeing. "Hey, babe, are you okay? What’s wrong?"

She could barely hear him, his words muffled, distant. Her legs wobbled, feeling like they might give out at any second, and Matt held her tighter, his warmth battling the unnatural chill that had invaded her body, her skin feeling as cold as the winter.

"Y/N, hey, look at me. Can you hear me?" His tone was steady, doing a great job at hiding the extreme fear that he felt, his hands cradling her face as he searched her eyes for any sign of recognition.

But she couldn’t answer, couldn’t focus. The demon’s furious glare was seared into her vision, its whispered threat echoing in her mind as a thick, oppressive darkness continued to drag her deeper into its depths.

Matt drew a sharp breath, his grip tightening around Y/N as he glanced over his shoulder at his brothers.

"We need to get out of here. Now." His tone was rough, leaving no room for argument.

The severity in his voice snapped them out of their stunned state, and they exchanged a quick look before following the couple to the exit door of the Boiler Room. Their footsteps echoed, tense and hurried, with Nick and Chris casting anxious glances behind them as if hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever had gripped Y/N so tightly, Chris's hand searching desperately for Nick's arm, trying to find comfort.

As they stepped outside the oppressive confines of the room, an almost immediate sense of relief washed over them. The chill that had settled into Y/N’s bones began to ease, and her tense posture softened as if an invisible weight had finally been lifted. She inhaled deeply, her body leaning heavily into Matt’s, letting his steady presence anchor her back to reality. Her scared eyes moved frantically, searching over her shoulders as if waiting for it to follow them, but she only met darkness.

"Shh, you're okay now. I'm right here with you." Matt kept whispered sweet nothings against Y/N's head, gently forcing her to look away from the room, pressing her face against his own shoulder, her hair tickling his chin in a comforting way.

Sam and Colby, who had been standing by, initially cheered at their bravery but quickly went quiet when they noticed the disturbed expressions on everyone’s faces.

Sam stepped forward, worry etched across his features.

"Hey, you guys okay?" He asked, his tone low and concerned.

Matt opened his mouth, his protective instincts kicking in while his arms seemed to wrap around Y/N's body tighter.

"We should give her a second. She just needs a bit to calm down-"

"No." Y/N interrupted, her voice weak but firm. She shook her head, a determined glint in her eyes as she steadied herself, her cold hands finding his biceps, squeezing his hoodie-covered skin in reassurance. "They have to know."

Colby nodded, quickly understanding the weight of what she was about to say. He took the camera from Nick, aiming it at her as he stepped closer, Sam following behind.

Chris and Nick quickly gathered around the couple, assuming protective instances, waiting, their faces a mixture of curiosity and seriousness as Y/N prepared to explain, eyes frantically looking behind their backs every second, the feeling of being watched seeming to grow more intense.

"I... I saw something." She began, her voice a touch unsteady but gathering strength as she continued. "When I looked at that room, there was this... this intense heat, and suddenly, it was like I was somewhere else entirely. I saw flames, a massive fire that seemed to consume everything around it. And in the middle of it all was a young woman, burning alive."

Her voice cracked slightly, and she closed her eyes, trying to shake the haunting image that had imprinted itself in her mind. A warm spread around her left shoulder, and she quickly recognized Nick's comforting touch.

"She was screaming, and it wasn’t like any scream I’ve ever heard before." Y/N continued, her face pale as she relived the vision. "It was pure agony... and then, there was a man behind her, just standing there, watching her burn. He was tall, menacing, and I knew, somehow, that he was the one who did this to her. He for sure worked here back in the day, I just knew it, and he killed her, and he was enjoying it." She paused, her voice barely a whisper. "And then, right before the vision ended, I saw three male figures behind him. I thought it was over, but when I looked up, there was something else in the room with us."

"The janitor, the principal, and the librarian." Sam muttered, furrowing his eyebrows, his eyes meeting Colby's dark ones, which held the same realization look.

The rest of the group was silent, hanging onto every word as Y/N’s gaze darkened, her eyes focused on some invisible point in the distance, Matt's firm hands around her hips keeping her grounded.

"It was a very dark creature, obviously a demon." She whispered. "Big, twisted, and so... so angry. Its skin was... I can’t even describe it. It was unnatural, almost as if it was pulled together from different things, and its eyes... they were red, glowing, and it was looking right at me." Her voice wavered as she continued, a tremor of fear slipping through. "It knew I could see it, and it was furious. And then... I heard a voice. In my head. It told me that I couldn't tell you about it."

A shiver ran through the group, everyone exchanging wary glances, trying to process the weight of what she was saying. Y/N took a shaky breath, her eyes flicking up to meet theirs.

"It started coming toward me, crawling like a snake, and that’s when Matt got to me. But... the warning felt like more than just a threat. It’s like it didn’t want us to have this information. It didn’t want us to know what happened here... This is all way darker than you guys expected."

Colby, his brow furrowed in thought, broke the silence.

"Wait, why wouldn’t it want us to know?"

Y/N hesitated, piecing together the fragments of knowledge she had gathered over years of honing her abilities.

"When it comes to entities like this, especially ones tied to a place or a tragedy... they draw power from secrecy, from fear. If we know what it is, what it’s done, it gives us the upper hand. And even more so if we learn its name."

Sam’s eyes widened, realization dawning on him as his gaze traveled from her to Colby and then back again.

"So, if we know its name, it becomes weaker?"

Y/N nodded slowly.

"Yes. Kind of. Names are powerful, especially with entities like that. It’s a way of binding it, of taking control. And right now, it knows we’re at an advantage. I just... I just have to figure out its name."

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jo-com · 1 year ago

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₊˚.🎧 ✩｡☕ ➛ So this is love?

Max Verstappen x Fem!Sainz reader

Summary: The man who always put racing above anything else; not even caring or investing about others because he thinks it’s a waste of time—What did you do to him to make him change his mind?

Genre: Cold!Max x Persistent!reader

Note: Grammatical errors and this is not proofread!! Enjoy thoo

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚💕 ─ ───────

Max stared blankly at his mates as he tuned out the noises that they spoke. His eyes narrowed and brows knitted in a frown— obviously not invested in their conversation.

“Yeah, she’ll be coming here, so be nice guys” Carlos spoke,his tone laced with a warning, glaring back at other drivers who he thinks will scare you off.

And of course he was staring directly at max.

Max cocked a brow,“What?”,he was clearly not listening to them, so why the hell are they looking at him?

The other driver rolled his eyes, “i said don’t be batshit crazy and be nice to my sister”.

“Crazy?” Max scoffed, “i don't even give a damn about her, so why do i have to be nice?.”

The room then fell quiet at his words; no one even muttered a single sound as the heavy atmosphere intoxicated them—awkwardness spreading across the drivers as they stare back and forth at each other.

For a whole five minutes, none of them had the courage to speak up and end the insufferable silence.

Not until Charles let out a scrappy cough, making the others sigh in relief from his boldness.

“Carlos didn’t mean it like that, he meant that you should just be a little nice, his sister's pretty sensitive, you see” Charles exclaimed, his voice shaking from the previous tension.

Max tutted in response, mumbling a low ‘whatever’ before standing up and leaving the Ferrari garage.

…

It was finally the day of your arrival, everybody were excited to meet the you… well almost everybody.

Max just slumped in the corner, his body leaning against the wall with his usual scowling face— avoiding others that tries to converse with him.

He was minding his own business and letting his mind wander off.

What’s so special about her that people kept fussing over her.

His train of thought quickly got interrupted as people swarmed the front door, their voices echoing and colliding with one another making a god awful sound.

He rolled his eyes with judgement as he stared abruptly at the doorframe— not even bothering to check or give the slightest interest on you.

But as you walked closer to his eye range, his breath seemed to hitch and his jaw slowly hung opened.

He doesn’t know how or why, but as soon as his eyes met yours it felt like his world suddenly turned in slowmo and all the others that surrounded you, now disappeared— it was like there were only the two of you.

Max never felt something like this before, it’s a weird and uncomfortable feeling. How the hell do you make it stop?

His once cold and composed look now turned into a love sick fool expression.

“Hey man you okay?” Logan asked, his tone dripped with pure concern over his fellow driver.

Max suddenly jumped from Logan’s presence. He never even saw that he came and leaned besides him. It was so unusual for him to be that unattentive.

Max lets out an awkward cough, “yeah, i am good, just looking like everyone else.”

“Looking? Dude you look like you want to get down on your knees for her” the other joked, easing up to max.

But to him it wasn’t a joke, he was conflicted on why he looked like that and was it obvious to everyone?. What the actual fuck is happening to him.

He then raised his hand and gently lay it to his forehead to check whether or not he has a fever. Damn no fever.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Logan responded, his eyes curled into a soft concern gaze.

Max didn’t answer and flickered his eyes back to yours. His face suddenly heats up as you stare back and smile at him. Your smile that was radiant like the sun and eyes soft like sky.

After that short and subtle interaction, he can’t seem to keep his focus and just let his thoughts wander off that lead to that moment.

…

“You’re max right?” You greeted, tugging the excess hair to your side and smiling softly at him. Having him a clear view of your angelic appearance.

Max could feel his whole face being flushed, god he wishes you don’t notice, “uhm yeah” he spoke, his tone that was always high and mighty now turned into a low and shy ones.

You hummed in response and puckered your lips with a pop, “well I’ve been seeing you all day and you’re always avoiding me, is there something wrong?”

Max’s eyes widened, “no..i-uhm there’s-“ he stuttered; trying to find the right words but nothing came out right.

You examined his actions and then let out a few giggles at his antics. You didn’t understand why they call him mean, to you he was just adorable.

…

After that day, the two of you often hang out with each other and would hear whispers and murmurs about you guys, but always brushed it off and ignore people.

“Here try this max” you beamed, handing him the mango that you were holding— smiling from ear to ear as you share your favorite fruit to someone speacial. You loved mango, i mean how could you not? It’s tasty and delicious.

He gave you a look of uncertainty, he never liked mango, it’s weird looking and nothing will ever change his mind about it, even you.

But maybe one bite won’t hurt.

“Haha sure” he replied, taking the fruit from your hand and gently taking a bite out of it. He then gulped it down his throat and stared back at you— your eyes sparkled with joy and excitement, as you await for his response.

“It’s alright” he answered, giving you a thumbs up to which you retorted with a happy clap.

“Thank god you like it, I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d like one of my favorite fruits”

Hmm maybe mangoes aren’t that bad.

…

It didn’t take long before max realized how inlove he was with you and as soon as he did, he asked to court you.

Of course you agreed to it, you as well fell for him but you also wanted to get the approval of both your parents and brother.

That’s why Max took it upon himself to make your parents like him, though he knew that the real obstacle was Carlos.

“So, you’re telling me that you want to date my sister?” Carlos asked, his voice dripped with sarcasm and anger.

Max smiled nonchalantly, “yes”

“You want to date her with that attitude?” Carlos spat, his teeth gritted with each word.

“Yes” he answered again bluntly.

He was getting on Carlos nerves and you could tell.

“Haha uhm Max can you come here for a sec?” You laughed dryly, grabbing Max’s sleeves and dragging him to the side.

“What did we talk about? I told you to be nice” you scolded, rubbing the bridge of your nose to ease your stress.

“I was being nice” max grumbled, his brows knitted in a frown out of habit.

Unbeknownst to them, Carlos was in the sidelines listening, laughing silently at his fellow driver, ‘hehe he’s done for, he never admits his mistake and apologize’ he thought.

“Sorry, I’ll try okay?” Max mumbled, making you smile and kiss his cheeks in response.

Carlo’s jaw dropped, What the fuck, why was THE max verstappen apologizing, is this real??

The two of them came back hand in hand and faced Carlos once again.

“I am sorry for being rude, and yes i am dating her so please approve”.

Carlos was still in shock, never in his life had he seen Max act like a puppy and apologize to anyone.

“No uhm it’s okay we’re good” he replied, his voice shaky from disbelief.

So that’s what max is like when inlove. Damn he’s like a lost puppy.

…

Sorry for not uploading too much🥹🥹 I’ve been busy but i hope you enjoyed this!!💋

#imagine #fanfic #oneshot #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one #f1 x you #red bull f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen

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imaginedisish · 10 months ago

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Is It Casual Now? (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: So this one is a couple of requests rolled into one. I got some asks about dancing around feelings, and some others about a fight/make up sex...and this is what I came up with. This is (very obviously) inspired by "Casual" by the queen herself, Chappell Roan. (Gif is not mine--from a user called trashy on Pinterest). Enjoy!

Summary: I know baby nooo attachment, but we're...KNEE DEEP IN THE PASSENGER SEAT AND YOU'RE EATING ME OUT IS IT CASUAL NOW?

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI! Oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), cockwarming, so much smut, feelings, friends w/benefits/secret affair to lovers, Logan is afraid to love but goddammit he loves you, angsty asf, cursing, happy ending :), fem!reader/afab!reader, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,405 short...not...

Over the course of his very long life, some of Logan’s memories have shifted, melded together. Days become nights and nights become days, an inescapable cycle with an indeterminate end. But Logan remembers the day he met you vividly. You tripped him up; sucked him out of the monotony of what at times felt like a meaningless existence. You changed everything.

The summer air was hot and stuffy. He was standing in the hallway with Jean, Scott, Rogue, and Kurt. The door opened, sunlight filling the dark foyer. And then there you were, stepping inside, with Charles and Storm flanking you.

Your eyes found his immediately. “My X-Men, this is our new recruit,” Charles had said, introducing you to the team. But you were only focused on the man in the middle. The man with the leather jacket and the dark black hair.

“Hi,” you said shyly with a wave of your hand, eyes still focused on Logan. The rest of the team excitedly introduced themselves, but you weren’t listening.

Logan smiled. “Hi,” he said back. He was all you could see.

And he still is. But you’re dancing around your feelings—the both of you. You allow yourselves to give in, but only under the cover of darkness. Only in bed. Late at night. When the rest of the team is fast asleep. It’s always quiet; rushed steps down the hallway and soft taps on doors. Tripping into the darkness of a room to find the bed. A mess of limbs tangled together, moon high in the sky, cold light trickling through the curtains.

It’s the early hours of the morning, the dawn creeping in through your window. Logan’s arm is wrapped around you, his hand holding your breast. It’s so domestic, so intimate. But you know he’s going to leave—one of you always leaves. Lately, it hurts worse every time the bed goes cold.

“I should go,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. He tugs you closer, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He’s still hard, his erection brushing against the curve of your ass. You push back into him teasingly.

“Stay,” you beg, your hips rocking against him.

He kisses your neck. “Can’t. You know we can’t.”

Your heart drops. You don’t know how much more of this arrangement you can take. The leaving. The hiding. The secretiveness. “Why?” You ask, separating from him. You roll over onto your other side to face him. “Why can’t we?”

“We just can’t,” he grunts, pushing himself up and out from under the covers. He finds his clothes on the ground and starts to dress himself. You sit up too, tears suddenly brimming behind your eyes.

You shake your head. “That’s not an answer, Lo.”

“Please,” he says, tugging his beater across his chest. He leans over you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “You have to understand.”

You nod, but you don’t understand. He kisses you once more before stepping quietly towards the door. His hand hovers over the doorknob, like part of him can’t take this either. Like he has to fight some demon deep inside him not to crawl back into bed and pull you close. You know him; you can see it in his face, in the way he stands.

“See you later?” You ask, swallowing nervously. You need to hear him say it—need him to remind you that this isn’t over. You’re desperate for anything—desperate for him.

Logan smiles. “Yeah,” he nods. “Come to my room tonight, okay?”

You fight back your tears, plastering a fake smile on your face. “Okay.”

And then he’s slipping out the door, softly shutting it behind him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night…

His sheets are soft under your back. His arm holds you down, latched tightly over your hip, keeping your lower half glued to the mattress. His face is buried deep in your cunt. He’s lapping at you hungrily, needily.

“Thought about you all day,” he mumbles against you, the bassy vibration of his voice sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. His fingers pump in and out of you, fast and hard. “Wanted to taste you so bad, pretty girl.”

“Logan,” you whine as he takes your clit between his lips, sucking roughly. “F-feels so good.”

Your walls flutter around him as he sinks his fingers deeper inside you. There’s a hunger in his eyes, a desperation you’re well acquainted with. You feel it whenever you’re around him, whenever he’s pressing himself closer to you, pushing himself inside of you.

“Doing so good for me, darlin’,” he soothes, his thumb drawing circles into your hip. “Tastes so fucking good, so sweet.” His words are practically throwing you over the edge, destroying you, and then building you back up.

He’s knuckle-deep inside you, lapping at you, watching your every reaction to see what makes you feel good. The sight of him is overwhelming—his mouth latched onto your clit, hair a mess, sweat on his brow, lust darkening his eyes.

You throw your head back as he hits your sweet spot, his fingers scissoring inside you. “S-so close,” you stutter as he sinks into you. “Need you, Lo,” you whimper.

“Need you too, beautiful,” he murmurs between laps. “More than you’ll ever know.” The words—their vulnerability and meaning—push you over, your orgasm crashing in waves. “That’s it,” he coos, plunging into you. “Give it to me.” He talks you through it, soft praises slipping from his lips as his tongue drags along your clit. Lemme taste you come, sweetheart. So good. So fucking beautiful.

He pulls his fingers from your cunt long after you’ve finished. He licks one long stripe through your folds before crawling up your body and settling in between your legs. His lips find yours, and you can taste yourself on his mouth, on his tongue, wearing you like a badge of honor, like proof of his commitment to you.

Commitment. Right.

He made you feel so good that you almost let yourself forget. Your arrangement. This stupid, goddamn arrangement.

No staying. No telling. You. Him. The moonlight. And then nothing.

Logan’s face is buried in the crook of your neck, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive spot underneath your ear.

“Lo,” you whisper. He hums against you, not stopping. “Logan,” you chide again.

He pushes himself up, looking down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “What is it, princess?” You swallow harshly, blinking back your tears. The expression on his face shifts as he recognizes the pain in your eyes. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head. “I want you,” is all you say.

“I want you too,” he says back, pressing his forehead to yours.

“N-no,” you choke. “I want you.”

He pulls up a bit, putting some space between the two of you. “You have me,” he says, confusion painted across his face.

“No, I don’t,” you mutter, shutting your eyes.

Logan rolls off of you and sits up against the headboard. “What are you talking about?”

You open your eyes, looking up at him. “I can’t do this ‘sneaking around’ thing anymore,” you start, tears flooding your eyes as you struggle to hold them back. “I want—” you cut yourself off. You can’t play down your emotions anymore. “I need you, all of you. Always. I’m tired of leaving, of hiding, of this whole casual thing.”

“Casual?” His voice is harsh, accusatory. “This isn’t fucking casual to me. You think I don’t care about you?” He reaches out to touch you, but you turn away, swinging your legs around the side of the bed. You grab your clothes from the floor and dress quickly.

You turn back to face him. “Why don’t you want to stay with me, then? Why are we only together when no one is looking?” You shake your head, your hands balling into fists. “Why don’t you want me all the time?”

He scoffs, standing from the bed and striding over to you. “You don’t get it. I do. I want you. I just can’t—”

“You can’t what?” You shout. You don’t care who can hear you. You’re not even thinking about the others right now. You’re only thinking about Logan. And then, the words shoot out your mouth, cold and angry. Empty. Strained. “Can’t love me like I love you?”

Your eyes widen, shocked at what you’ve just said. Your chest heaves, and you rush to the door.

“Wait, please,” Logan calls, running to catch you before you leave. “Don’t go.”

You twist the knob. “It’s too late now.” You open the door and slip out, trying to shove it closed in his face. But Logan pushes against you, keeping the door open and stepping out into the hallway. You turn around and storm down the corridor, ignoring his footsteps following behind.

He grabs your wrist, and you yank it away. You’re in front of your bedroom door now. Logan is just a few feet away. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

His eyes search yours frantically. “No, let’s talk. Let’s—”

You cut him off. “I don’t want to anymore, Lo.” You open your door, ignoring his pleas, leaving him on the other side as you slam it shut behind you. You rest your back against the cold wood, sliding down to the floor. You pull your legs into your chest, your head resting on your knees.

Your tears flow freely now, running down your cheeks. You sit like that for what feels like hours, sobs racking through your chest. But when your tears finally subside and you look up, you see the moon is still high in the sky.

You force yourself to stand, your knees weak as you push yourself off the ground. Your throat is dry from all that time spent crying. You decide to go down to the kitchen, to get water, to calm down. But when you open the door, you’re met with him.

Logan. He’s on the other side, his hand gripping the door frame, muscles flexing, towering over you. You try to slip under his arm, but he doesn’t let you, grabbing your waist and holding you in place.

“We need to talk,” he mutters, backing you into the room and shutting the door with a kick.

You cross your arms against your chest. “There’s nothing left to talk about.” But he isn’t standing down. Your thighs back into the edge of your bed as Logan leans down over you. You look up at him, doing your all not to give in to the voice that screams to touch him, to taste him. You take a deep breath. “We want different things. You don’t want me the way I want you, and that’s fine,” you lie; it isn’t fine at all.

“I never said that,” he huffs, his fingertips tentatively stroking your arms. You can’t pull away as his eyes find yours. “I just…” he trails off, taking your hands in his.

You scoff, shaking your head. “You can’t even tell me how you feel. You can’t even—” “Because it’s hard!” He says, his jaw working. “It’s hard when you lose everyone you love.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “You don’t get it,” he murmurs, squeezing your hands, his chest heaving.

“Logan—”

“You’re always around, always on my fucking mind.” He pauses, his eyes glossing over as the words fall from his lips. “I have never loved someone the way I love you. And if I lose you…if I can’t have you…” He trails off, pain clear on his face. “I will never be the same again. You changed me. And that’s terrifying. I felt safer keeping you at a distance but…” His breath catches in his throat. “I can’t go back to how I was before you.”

Your lips part as you stammer, searching for the right thing to say. “I-I didn’t know. I just assumed that you—” “That I was just fucking you?” He asks, tilting his head in disbelief. “This has never been just fucking.” He slots his knee between your legs, tugging you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I love you. Always have. From that first day.”

You lean into his touch. “I love you, too,” you whisper.

He presses his forehead to yours. “I can’t lose you,” he says. There’s a tremble in his voice. “It’s just you. It’s only ever gonna be you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you reassure. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

He nods against you. “I never meant to hurt you,” Logan husks. “Never meant to make you feel like I didn’t love you.”

“Logan, it’s okay,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. You need him closer, and you know he needs you too. His hands slip underneath your shirt as his knee nudges against your center. “Always gonna need you.” You can’t help but grind down on him, the pressure relieving the building ache in your core. “N-need you now.”

“Need you too, pretty girl,” he soothes. He guides you down onto the mattress. His palms spread across your stomach, tracing over your ribs—just under your breasts. “Wanna make you feel good.” He cups your tits, squeezing softly, his thumbs ghosting over your nipples.

Logan settles on top of you, balancing on his forearm, his knee still pressing into your all too-clothed cunt. He knows how much you need him—the way your hips roll against him, how you arch up to meet his touch.

“L-Lo,” you stutter, dragging your heat against him again. “Fuck me, please.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, his erection hard against your thigh. You can feel his resolve slipping. “Gonna give you what you want, pretty girl,” he groans. “Give you anything you want.”

Everything is rushed, frantic, needy. He’s sitting up, grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head, practically ripping it in the process. He hooks his thumbs into the waistbands of your shorts and panties, tugging them down your legs in one quick movement.

He takes you in, his eyes flitting up and down your body. “So fucking beautiful,” he breathes, his hand squeezing your hip reverentially before tearing off his beater and throwing it to the floor. He slips his sweatpants down his legs, and then his boxers.

Logan pushes you into the center of the bed as he climbs over you. He balances on his forearm while his free hand wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself to your entrance.

You can tell he wants to shove himself inside, to take you greedily, but he doesn’t. He’s holding back; going slow like he’s remembering this so he can think about it later, when he needs it most—savoring the feeling of you against him. His tip slides through your folds, teasing your entrance. He nudges against your clit, spreading your arousal.

But his composure quickly cracks. He’s suddenly sinking inside you deeply—down to the hilt—with no warning, taking up every inch you have to give him. He stretches you out, the size of him still no easier to take than that first time he fucked you. “Logan,” you whine, hands pawing at his back for support.

He swallows your whimpers with a kiss. “I’m right here.” His voice is honeyed as he talks you through it. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Not going anywhere.” He pulls out and shoves himself back inside, deeper this time. His fingers are on your clit now, circling softly. “So fucking tight, so wet. Perfect pussy.”

His cock rubs your inner walls deliciously, pumping in and out. He’s on top of you, inside you, and he’s yours. He’s all yours. You wrap your legs around his waist as he rocks into you. He’s building his pace, letting himself go.

“It’s s-so good.” You stumble over your words, already fucked out. “Y-you’re so good.”

His thrusts are faster now, his hips snapping roughly into yours. “So soft,” he murmurs, biting your bottom lip and then licking away the sting he left behind. “So fucking soft and pretty. Taking me so good, darlin’.”

His words spark that fire in your belly. You can feel it spread down, down, down. The ache between your legs blooming, turning into something bigger. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him. He groans at the feeling as you take him deeper. All you want, all you need, is him. Logan. “Yours,” you whisper. “L-Logan I’m all yours. Not going anywhere.”

“Shit,” he curses, pounding into you, all the way hit after hit. “You’re all I need,” he confesses between thrusts, panting. He flicks your clit, pinching, circling hard. “Mine, all fucking mine. Never gonna let go.”

“Don’t,” you beg, his forehead pressing to yours. He’s all-consuming; he’s everywhere and he’s everything. “D-don’t let go,” you finish, your lips ghosting his. He takes the hint, and his lips crash down onto yours as he ruts into you.

You can feel yourself cresting, ready to let go. “I know you’re getting close for me, beautiful,” Logan growls, pressing a kiss to that sweet spot under your ear. “Can feel you squeezing me.” Your walls clench around him, and he groans. “Yeah, just like that, sweetheart. Feels so good.”

“L-Lo…” you stutter, unable to form a coherent thought as he fucks into you, stroking your clit faster and harder. You’re falling apart underneath him, every thrust pushing you closer to that peak. You throw your head back, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Eyes on me,” Logan demands, his voice thick and raspy. You listen, looking up at him. His eyes are locked on yours, lust-filled and dark. “Wanna see that pretty face when you come, darlin’.”

You can feel his pace faltering—can feel him getting closer too. But he’s relentless as his hips roll against yours, fingers still working your clit. It’s too much. “Logan,” you whimper. “I-I’m gonna…” “I know, beautiful,” he says softly. “Let go for me, wanna feel you come on my cock.”

He thrusts again, flicking your clit. And that’s all it takes for you to crumble. He watches closely as you come undone. You’re trembling underneath him, his fingers still circling your core. Your muscles contract around him, sucking him in, taking him deeper. You moan his name like it’s a prayer, something holy. But this is beyond that. This is something more, something different.

“L-love you, Lo,” you murmur, pleasure still coursing through your veins.

Logan curses under his breath, your words unlocking something trapped inside him. His cock throbs against your walls, and you know he’s almost there. “Love you too, pretty girl,” he whispers. “Love you so fucking much.” He slides his hand up your body and under your back, pulling you closer. You need the contact, and so does he.

“W-want you to come inside,” you whine, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

“F-fuck, yeah?” He stutters. His cock twitches again. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart, give you what you need.” His lips find yours as he comes, kissing you hungrily. He’s warm inside you, painting your walls, filling you up just like he said he would. Logan’s head falls to your shoulder as his thrusts slow. He stalls inside you, staying there, not quite ready to slip out.

“Lo?” You call. He hums a yeah, sweetheart, into your shoulder. “D-don’t want you to pull out. Want you to stay inside.”

He mutters a fuck and presses a kiss to your collarbone. He maneuvers the two of you under the covers, careful not to pull out. You’re a tangle of limbs, still connected, still together. He’s half hard inside you, and you know he’s not quite finished just yet. But there’s later, tomorrow, forever. Everything feels perfect—the way it was always meant to be.

There’s one thing left to do; one thing left to ask.

“Logan?” You call again. He smiles at you, pressing a chaste kiss to your nose. “Can you stay?”

His smile widens. “Always gonna stay,” he soothes, pulling you tighter to his chest, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “You never have to ask again.”

You hum, burying your head into the center of his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says against the crown of your head. “Always will. Always gonna stay.”

Always.

tags: @babygirl-4986

#Logan Howlett x reader #Wolverine x reader #James Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x reader smut #Wolverine x reader smut #James Logan Howlett x reader smut #Logan Howlett smut #Wolverine smut #James Logan Howlett smut #Logan Howlett x you #Wolverine x you #James Logan Howlett x you #Logan Howlett imagine #Wolverine imagine #James Logan Howlett imagine #Logan Howlett x you smut #Wolverine x you smut #James Logan Howlett x you smut #deadpool and wolverine

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bunni-v1 · 2 months ago

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Bunni's Ifa Brainrot

🍓Obsessing over this man right now, so now you'll get the big dump of my thoughts based on what I've seen in the event quest. Some of these come from conversations I had with @pinksandss my fellow Ifa enjoyer, others are just me vomiting whatever I can get out. These are subject to change just the initial thoughts based solely on vibes from the event and in game dialogue.

TW: NSFW under the cut MDNI; unedited I cannot be bothered.

General

-Ifa is incredibly chill, like super laid back. He's not the kind of guy to panic or freak out needlessly, he likes to take his time with things and get them done in however much time he needs. Being rushed just isn't something he jives with.

-That being said, his being laid back doesn't mean he's lazy. Far from it, he's actually incredibly hard-working and takes his job seriously. What's important to him is important to him, and he's not the kind to slack off when he (or the people he cares about) cares about something.

-He's level-headed and reliable, very much the cool older brother type that people look up to. His casual demeanor makes him seem intimidating, but he's actually really easy to get along with if you give him the time of day. Some people might think he's a bit rude with how he holds himself, but he just doesn't care for silly niceties when that's not who he is.

-He's very funny. His sense of humor is dry and he says shit with a straight face, but it always gets you laughing. His timing is always perfect, and sometimes (most times) he's not even trying, he's just charming like that.

-Speaking of charming, he's a flirt, but not 100% intentionally. It's just the way he talks and the way he holds himself, he comes off as overly ambitious in love when he's just being honest about how he feels about someone or something. Not to say he isn't aware of the effect he has on people, just that he's effortlessly good at what he does.

-Despite his ease with socializing, he doesn't strike me as someone who really likes it much. He feels more like he enjoys his alone time more than he does being around others. Sure he'll go out and spend time with people, but he's much more fond of spending quiet time with the saurians.

-When he does like someone, though, it's pretty obvious. He affords them a lot more room for error and goes out of his way to spend time with them/let them in his space. Examples include Ororon, where Ifa seems to humor him, and might even have a teasing streak with the way Ororon talks about him.

-He's well respected, but he doesn't demand it from anyone. The respect he has is through his own hard work, and I don't believe that he's the type to let it bother him if he isn't respected. He's self-assured, and as long as he's getting the job done, he doesn't really care what other people feel about him.

Romantic

-If Ifa is romantically interested in a person (you, specifically), he isn't going to beat around the bush. He's intentional about how he approaches you, not leaving any room for question in the way he feels, but not pushing you into something you don't want. It's pretty obvious what he wants from you, but he gives you plenty of space to make the final decision.

-You can almost imagine it like how he approaches wounded saurians. Obviously, you're a highly intelligent person, and of course the same species as him, but he takes his time in earning your trust and getting you to open him up with his intentions clear as day. He doesn't want to run around and play games, he wants to be with you, so he needs to know if you want the same thing.

-When you do eventually accept his advances and start returning them, he's relieved. Not even all the confidence in the world would've saved his heart from breaking if you'd turned him down. You didn't, though, and so now you get to know Ifa in a more intimate way than others.

-He is so gentle, you wouldn't expect it from someone who seems to be so chilled out all the time, but he is. Part of it comes from the fact that he deals with wounded animals several times bigger than him, but it also is just how he is. He loves you, and how he shows that is through a gentle demeanor no one else is really afforded from him.

-This gentleness does not mean he isn't a tease, though. He likes to poke fun at you, and he expects the same in return. Part of being in a relationship is wanting to have fun with your partner, and what's more fun than picking on each other a little. It's just a sign that you know each other well enough that you know how to get under each other's skin.

-He's very much a 'says it as it is' guy, so he's straightforward in how he compliments you. His "flirting" is more like straightforward comments that leave you reeling for a few seconds after he gives them. It's very different from the perceived "flirting" mentioned earlier, this is very intentional and he wants to see you fluster.

-He is not a romantic, though. Not the type to go for grand gestures of affection and bold displays. His love is quiet and he doesn't like to put it on display, preferring to keep it close between the two of you.

-Instead of fancy shit, he likes to do little things for you that get you all kinds of soft and mushy inside. Like cooking your dinner or coming home with a bouquet of your favorite flowers to decorate the kitchen table. Small things that require time and effort, maybe they're not sparkly, but they're consistent shows of his dedication to you.

-He's very serious about your health, while he's a saurian vet, he knows enough about humans that he knows what he's talking about. He takes good care of you, feeding you well and making sure you're getting all the nutrients you need to remain happy and healthy at his side.

-He also memorizes everything you tell him. He's a smart guy, and he's good at compartmentalizing things in that head of his so he doesn't forget anything. While he might not always be on time to do things because of work, he always shows up. If he is late he always shows up with an apology gift and a pitiful little expression.

-If you show interest in his work (or are in the same line of work as him), he's happy to indulge you. He won't make you do anything intense with serious illnesses, but he does like letting you help him about the clinic and what not.

-He goes out of his way to include you in his life, wanting you to be interested in his interests and the things he does. In return he's equally as invested in yours when given the chance. He loves hearing about what you like to do and the things you're working on.

-Oh, and, yes... he does call you bro. Not even you are exempt from it.

MDNI Under the cut

NSFW

-Ifa is a busy guy, flying around all over Natlan to check up on various different cases. He can spend days at a time without seeing you, and while he's good at suppressing himself and his needs, boy does it get hard when he comes home and you greet him with a big smile after days of endless work.

-After much thinking, I've come to the conclusion that he is a hard top and he cannot be swayed from that. No matter how much you fight him, he's always in control, even when you think you are.

-His sex drive is relatively low, but he can match you pretty easily if yours is higher. He's good at ignoring his own needs, but if you come to him and ask him all cute like that he can't say no to you. He's not nice, though.

-His biggest kink is, obviously, cockwarming. It matches his laid-back and relaxed vibe so well. He's not someone who rushes into sex, and as such, he can have you sit there on his dick for as long as he wants without feeling the need to move once. It's usually reserved for when he's working on something more hands-off, but sometimes... sometimes it's more of a "teaching" moment.

-He likes to quiz you on medical knowledge, regardless of if you know it or not. He'll have you sit on his lap and ask you questions about different things, curious to see how much you remember from your conversations with him. If you get things wrong he'll make you sit there until you get it right. If you get it right he might let you wiggle around a bit, if he's feeling it that day.

-He makes you look at him too, no hiding. He's an observer at heart, so he likes seeing the struggle on your face regardless of the position you're in. Finds it incredibly hot when your face scrunches up to keep yourself from making all those cute little noises he loves.

-Also he's just incredible with his hands. It's genuinely mind-melting how he's able to hit every pleasure point in your body with those deft fingers of his.

-He's got an oral fixation focused on you, not that he doesn't like eating you out, just that he finds your lips wrapped around him to be a much nicer sight. They get so red and swollen when you suck him off, and you take him so well, he can't help the way it burns into the back of his mind.

-Before he fingers you - which is another favorite of his - he likes to have you suck on his fingers to get them ready. He has so much fun playing around with your tongue, pressing it flat beneath his fingers and swirling them around it. And you do it so diligently, obedient to a fault.

-Well, you know what happens when you don't listen. He'll use those fingers against you until you can't think straight. He won't stop until you're a blubbering, overstimulated mess underneath him, begging him for forgiveness.

-And he knows how to get you there quickly if he wants to. While he likes to take his time, and that can be a fun punishment too, when you've really messed up your orgasms come in quick succession and they are relentless. If you let him he'll fuck you until you're dry.

-Of course nothing but the best aftercare afterwards. He might be mean but he's not a monster. He cleans you up and makes you all cozy in bed, gets you hydrated and eating if you have it in you to. Just so sweet on you after you've given him all you've got.

#x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#genshin impact x reader #ifa #ifa x reader #genshin ifa x reader #ifa x you #genshin ifa #genshin x reader

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