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gratelove · 15 hours

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Beg A Little

Chris Sturniolo x Reader

You and your best friend Chris are hanging out, like you do every night. Playful banter turns into something more. Caught up in the heat of the moment, Chris playfully teases you, pushing you to beg for more even after you swore he couldn’t.

Warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, oral, praise kink, begging

It was another night at Chris’s place, which, in all honesty, was pretty much every night. You were both lounging on his couch, your feet sprawled across his lap, surrounded by the glow of string lights that you had helped Chris hang up months ago. You lost track of how many nights you spent like this - talking, laughing, and losing to your best friend in video games.

Chris was sprawled out on the other end of the couch, looking effortlessly handsome in his usual hoodie and beanie combo. He was trying—and failing—to hide his smug smile as he watched you struggle trying to beat him, your face one of pure concentration.

“You’re really bad at this, you know that?” he teased, glancing over with that familiar playful grin that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“Shut up, Sturniolo,” you shot back, trying to focus but feeling the heat of his gaze on you. “I’m just letting you win to boost your fragile ego.”

Chris laughed, low and teasing. “Fragile? Nah, my ego’s doing just fine. But if you need an excuse for why you keep losing, I’ll let you have that.”

You threw a pillow at him, which he easily dodged, his grin widening. It was all so typical—you and Chris throwing playful insults back and forth like it was your second language.

Chris tossed the controller aside, scooting closer. “You know, you talk a big game for someone who’s consistently terrible at every video game ever.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes but feeling your pulse quicken at his proximity. “Maybe I’m just pretending to be bad so you’ll pay more attention to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in just a bit closer. “Oh, is that what you want? More attention?”

Your breath caught at the shift in his tone. You leaned back, but Chris followed, his face inches from yours, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Maybe,” you said, your voice soft but teasing. “Or maybe I’m just tired of watching you act like you’re all that when we both know you’re just a dork in a beanie.”

Chris laughed, his eyes darkening as they flicked down to your lips and back up again. “A dork, huh? That’s not what you’ll be saying when you’re begging me to help you beat the next level.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding. “Oh, please. Like you could make me beg for anything.”

Chris’s grin turned mischievous as he moved even closer, his hand resting on the back of the couch beside your head, while the other moved to your bare thigh. “Wanna bet?”

The tension between you was electric now, your banter shifting from lighthearted to something charged and flirty. This was also typical for the two of you, flirting that never led to anything. Although, it seems tonight that Chris was feeling risky. Chris’s thumb brushed your jaw, tracing a slow line that made your breath hitch. The playful smirk never left his face, but his touch was soft, deliberate, as if he was testing the waters.

“You’re all talk, Sturniolo,” you challenged, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze. “When are you gonna back it up?”

Chris’s eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and desire. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, voice low and teasing. Suddenly, his hands wrapped around your legs and you gasped as you were pulled. Your butt now flush with his outer thigh, his face mere centimeters from yours. “But I’m down if you are.”

There was a daring edge in his tone, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his in a quick, teasing kiss. Chris didn’t hesitate; his hand moved to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. It was playful at first, but it quickly turned intense.

You pulled back slightly, catching your breath, but Chris’s fingers tangled in your hair, keeping you close. “You really think you can handle this?” he murmured, his lips ghosting over yours. “I don’t think you’re ready. I’ll have you begging on your knees after this. You’ll be obsessed.”

You smirked, sliding your hands up his chest, feeling his heartbeat through his sweatshirt. “God, Chris. Don’t stroke your ego too hard. Try me.”

Chris’s playful demeanor shifted, the teasing smile giving way to something hungrier. He kissed you again, this time with more urgency, his lips moving against yours in a way that made your skin tingle. His hands roamed your sides, pulling you closer until you were practically on top of him. His hands pushed under your cropped tank top. His thumbs brushed under the curves of your breasts, squeezing your ribs slightly, causing you to let out a gasp.

“Still think I’m all talk?” Chris teased between kisses, his breath warm against your skin.

You bit your lip, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, feeling the heat between you growing. “Shut up and keep kissing me.”

He grinned, his hands cupping your breasts. You moaned at the feeling of his warm palms against your peaked nipples. “Now who’s begging?”

You laughed, meeting his lips with yours again. Chris’s fingers traced slow circles on your hips, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

You tugged at his hoodie, pulling him closer, feeling the warmth of his body pressing into yours. The only sounds were his low chuckles mixed with the quiet hums of satisfaction whenever you responded with a bit of attitude, meeting him kiss for kiss.

“You’re getting quiet on me,” Chris teased, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. “What happened to all that trash talk?”

You smirked, trying to keep your voice steady even though your heart was racing. “I’m just waiting for you to do something worth talking about.”

Chris’s eyes darkened at your challenge, his playful smirk never wavering. “Oh, I can do a lot better than this. But you’ve gotta ask nicely.”

You could feel the tension between you thicken, his words sending a thrill down your spine. It was a game now—one you both knew how to play all too well. You pulled off his beanie and tossed it aside. You tangled your fingers in his messy brown hair, tugging just enough to make him groan softly against your lips.

“Why don’t you show me, then?” you dared, but Chris only grinned, his hands pausing at the waistband of your shorts, teasing you with the barest hint of what was to come.

“Not until you ask,” he said, his voice a low murmur, filled with teasing confidence. “Come on. I wanna hear you say it.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the heat between you intensifying as he brushed his lips against your neck, just enough to make you gasp but not enough to satisfy. Chris’s touch was light, infuriatingly so, and you found yourself shifting closer, desperate for more.

“Chris,” you breathed, your tone half a plea, half frustration, as his kisses trailed along your jawline, every touch like fire on your skin. “Don’t tease.”

He chuckled softly, his lips grazing your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “But teasing’s the best part,” he whispered, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines on your skin, making you squirm beneath him. “Besides, you look so cute when you’re like this.”

You bit back a moan when his teeth clasped around your earlobe, your hands clutching at his hoodie, trying to pull him closer, but Chris held back just enough to keep you wanting. He kissed you again, slow and sensual, but pulled away just as you started to lean into it, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“Come on, baby. Beg a little,” Chris said, his voice playful but edged with that intensity that had been building all night. “And maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but the smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you. He was dragging this out, savoring every moment of watching you unravel. And damn it, it was working.

“Fine,” you muttered, the heat of your frustration mingling with the desire coursing through you. “Please.”

Chris’s eyes lit up at your reluctant plea, his hands finally moving with purpose as he shifted closer. In one smooth motion, Chris’s grip tightened, and he pulled you onto his lap, the sudden shift making you gasp softly. “See, was that so hard?” he murmured against your mouth, his touch firmer now, drawing soft, needy sounds from you that you couldn’t quite suppress. His words left a pool in your panties.

You found yourself straddling him, your knees on either side of his hips as his hands settled on your waist, fingers digging in just enough to hold you in place. The closeness was dizzying, and you could feel him through the thin fabric of his sweatpants, the unmistakable hardness pressing against you sending a rush of heat through your entire body. Your breath hitched, and Chris’s eyes flashed with a knowing look.

“Feel that?” he asked. His hands guided your hips back, then pulled you forward, letting you feel the full effect of his arousal against you. “That’s what you do to me.”

You bit your lip, a soft moan escaping as he pushed your hips back again. As he pulled you forward, you instinctively rolled your hips, the friction making your whole body shiver. The sensation of him beneath you, so close and so real, was overwhelming, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through you that made it impossible to think straight. Chris’s hands tightened on your hips, encouraging you to keep going, his touch both gentle and insistent, guiding you into a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“You drive me crazy,” Chris whispered, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned in, his lips grazing your skin with a mix of kisses and teasing nips. The feeling of him, hard and eager beneath you, was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but move against him, the thin layers of fabric between you doing nothing to dull the intensity of the sensation.

Every roll of your hips, every gasp and quiet moan that slipped from your lips, seemed to fuel Chris’s own desire. He watched you with half-lidded eyes, drinking in every reaction, his own breaths growing ragged as he tried to maintain control. His fingers dug into your waist, guiding your movements as you rocked against him, the pressure building between you in a way that was both agonizingly slow and impossibly perfect.

Chris’s hands moved up, sliding under your shirt, his touch warm and exploring, sending jolts of pleasure through you as he continued to guide your movements. His lips found yours again in a kiss that was deeper, hungrier.

“You’re so sexy,” Chris breathed, his words laced with both affection and need, his voice husky as he pulled you even closer.

Your head fell back as a soft moan escaped your lips, lost in the way his fingers grazed and pinched your sensitive nipples. Chris watched you, his dark eyes full of intent.

“You like this, don’t you?” Chris murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with the satisfaction of knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

“Yes,” you breathed, squeezing his shoulders. The feeling of him, hot and hard beneath you, was driving you wild, but one of his hands on your hip, kept your motions slow, made you crave more. He was holding you back. He liked to tease you.

“You want more, don’t you?” You nodded your head eagerly, as you tried to pick up the speed of your hips, but Chris put both hands on you, holding you in place. You frowned at the loss of contact of his hands on your breasts. “Tell me what you want, baby,” Chris whispered, his voice rough, his lips brushing your ear.

“I want you,” you moaned, fighting against his grip, but it was no use. “Chris, let me,” you whined, as you tugged on his hair. Chris chuckled and the sounds was maddening. The way he held you on the edge, his gentle touch unyielding, just to keep you wanting and never enough to give you what you need… it made you crazy.

“You know what to say.” You swallowed hard as his hands slid down your thighs. His fingers pushed under the hem of your shorts to find the edge of your panties.

“Chris, please…”

Chris’s response was immediate. His grin widened at your words, and he tugged at your top, sliding it up and over your head in one motion, exposing you to the cool air. His gaze dropped to your now bare skin, and the heat in his eyes sent a rush of adrenaline and desire through you.

“Good girl,” he praised softly, his voice thick with approval as his hands traced over your newly exposed skin, his thumbs brushing against your chest with a touch that was both tender and possessive. The sensation sent jolts of pleasure through you, and you arched into his touch, your breath hitching at the way his fingers teased, exploring every curve.

Chris’s lips followed, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down, tasting every inch of your skin as you moved against him. The feeling of him—his mouth, his hands, the pressure of his arousal against you—was almost too much, every nerve alight with the intensity of the moment. You tugged at his hoodie, desperate to feel more of him, and Chris obliged, pulling it off and tossing it aside, his bare chest now pressed against yours.

The feeling of skin against skin was electric, the heat between you magnified as Chris’s hands slid down your back, pulling you impossibly closer. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your skin, his hips lifting to meet yours in a way that made your head spin. The pressure, the friction, the sensation of being this close to him was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but moan, rocking against him with increasing urgency.

“You want more?” Chris asked, his voice husky, a teasing edge still lingering even in the heat of the moment. He watched you intently, as he moved his hands to your ass. He palmed and squeezed at the flesh, controlling the rhythm as he guided you closer, never quite giving you everything you were aching for. “I need to hear you beg for it, baby.”

Your mind was a blur of desire and frustration, the feeling of him—so close and yet still holding back—making every nerve in your body scream for more. You swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, your breaths ragged as you leaned into him, your hands gripping his shoulders for support.

“Chris,” you gasped, your voice breaking as you rolled your hips, feeling the full, maddening friction of him against you. “Please. I need you.”

Chris’s grin turned almost predatory, satisfaction flickering in his eyes as he finally let go of the last bit of restraint. His hands moved to the waistband of your pajama shorts, and you helped him, both of you fumbling with the fabric, eager to remove every last barrier between you. The sensation of his hands, firm and urgent, made your pulse race, each touch sending waves of heat through your body.

Clothes were discarded in a blur of movement, each layer peeled away until nothing separated you. The feeling of his skin against yours, every inch of him pressed intimately close, sent a rush of exhilaration through you that was almost dizzying. Chris’s hands roamed freely now, no longer teasing but intent, exploring every curve, every sensitive spot with a touch that was equal parts gentle and demanding. His lips moved lower, bringing one of your nipples between his teeth. The sucked, kissed, and rolled it between his teeth, making you hiss in pleasure and pain.

He then flipped you, so you were sitting on the couch, and he kissed lower, sliding off the couch until he was on his knees in front of you. He put his hands on your knees, pulling them open to expose your dripping pussy to him.

“Oh my god,” he moaned, taking in the sight before him. His thumb ran up your center, making your legs shake at the touch. You watched him bring it to his mouth and suck your juices off of him. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste. “You’re so sweet,” he groaned, then began kissing your thighs. You moaned and the fire it left.

The anticipation built with every second, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he settled between your thighs, his gaze locking onto yours with a look that sent a rush of heat straight through you.

“You’re so beautiful,” Chris murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. The words were barely audible, more felt than heard, but they sent a thrill through you all the same. His hands slid up your thighs, spreading you wider as his lips followed, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses against your inner thigh that made your whole body tense with anticipation.

He was taking his time, savoring every reaction, every quiet gasp that slipped from your lips. Chris’s mouth moved closer, his breath hot and teasing against your most sensitive spot, and you couldn’t help the way your hips lifted slightly, seeking the contact that he was purposefully withholding. You could feel the smirk against your skin, Chris’s fingers tightening on your hips as he held you still, his tongue flicking out in a slow, deliberate tease that left you trembling.

“Chris,” you breathed, your voice shaky as you reached for him, your fingers tangling in his hair. The sensation of his mouth, so warm and soft against you, was almost too much, and you couldn’t help but moan as he continued his slow, agonizing exploration.

He worked you over with deliberate skill, his tongue moving in soft, languid strokes that made your thighs quiver. Each flick, each slow, purposeful motion was designed to draw you closer to the edge, his mouth pressing intimately against you in a way that was both gentle and commanding. Chris was relentless, finding the rhythm that made you gasp, each movement pushing you closer to the point of no return.

It was a heady mix of vulnerability and euphoria, the feeling of being completely at his mercy, every nerve ending alive under his touch. You could feel the pressure building, a hot coil of pleasure that tightened with every flick of his tongue, every soft hum of satisfaction that vibrated against your skin. Chris’s hands gripped your hips tighter, holding you in place as he drew out the moment, taking you right to the edge with practiced ease.

“You taste so good,” Chris whispered between kisses, his voice rough and full of need, the praise sending a fresh wave of heat through you. He pulled you closer, his mouth never slowing, driving you higher with every slow, sensual stroke. Your breaths came faster now, each gasp blending into the next as the pleasure built, your body responding to every touch, every movement of his tongue.

You were lost in the sensation, the relentless rhythm of his mouth pushing you closer, each second blurring into the next as he expertly pulled you toward release. It was overwhelming—the way he held you, the way he moved, the way he knew exactly how to drive you to the brink with every flick and swirl. You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your thighs trembling against his shoulders as you tried to hold on, but Chris wasn’t letting up, his mouth working you over with a focused intensity that left you breathless.

“Chris, I’m—” The words caught in your throat, your voice breaking as the pleasure peaked, your whole body tightening under his touch. Chris didn’t stop, his tongue pressing just right, his movements calculated and relentless, keeping you teetering on the edge of release, so close it almost hurt.

And then, with one last, perfectly timed flick of his tongue, you shattered. The release washed over you in a wave of pure, unfiltered pleasure, your body arching off the couch as every nerve lit up in bliss. Chris held you through it, his mouth and hands steady as he helped you ride out every pulse, every shuddering breath. You could feel his smile against your skin, a soft, satisfied hum of approval as you came undone beneath him.

As you slowly came down from the high, your breaths ragged and your heart racing, Chris moved back up, pressing soft kisses along your body as he went, his touch soothing and affectionate.

The rush of release still pulsed through your veins, leaving you breathless and trembling against the couch as Chris moved back up, his kisses soft and lingering against your flushed skin. His touch was both soothing and possessive, his hands roaming your body with a newfound urgency, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. He hovered above you, his lips brushing yours in a gentle, teasing kiss, but there was a deeper hunger in his gaze now, dark and intent, that made your breath catch all over again.

Chris’s fingers traced the curve of your waist, his touch featherlight, drawing out the lingering shivers from your previous high. The warmth of his skin against yours was electric, every subtle movement reigniting the desire that had never quite faded. You could feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh, and the anticipation sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you.

“You’re incredible,” Chris murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with both affection and that familiar edge of teasing confidence. His hand slid between your legs, feeling the evidence of your pleasure, and he smirked, his touch both reassuring and possessive. “So perfect for me.”

You moaned softly, your body arching into his touch, every nerve still sensitive and alive. Chris’s lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, filled with unspoken promises as he settled between your thighs, positioning himself at your entrance. He hesitated, just for a moment, his eyes locking with yours in a silent question, and you nodded, breathless and wanting, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you pulled him closer.

Chris pushed forward slowly, filling you inch by inch, the sensation almost overwhelming as he stretched you, your body instinctively tightening around him. He groaned, the sound deep and rough, his forehead resting against yours as he stilled, giving you both a moment to adjust. The intimacy of it, the feeling of him fully inside you, sent a shiver through your entire body, every inch of you attuned to the heat and weight of him.

“You feel so good,” Chris breathed, his voice husky as he began to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in with a measured, teasing thrust. The rhythm was maddening—deliberate and controlled, just enough to keep you wanting but never quite enough to satisfy. Each slow, teasing thrust sent jolts of pleasure through you, but Chris held back, his pace almost taunting, drawing soft whimpers from your lips.

“Chris, please,” you gasped, the words tumbling out in a breathy plea as you rocked your hips, desperate for more. But Chris only smirked, his hands tightening on your hips, holding you in place as he continued his slow, torturous rhythm, clearly enjoying every moment of making you beg.

“You like this, don’t you?” he teased, his voice low and full of that familiar playful arrogance. “Begging for it… so desperate for me.” His words sent a rush of heat through you, the praise making your body respond instinctively, your breaths coming faster as the tension coiled tighter.

Chris shifted his angle slightly, his thrusts growing a touch rougher, more insistent, and the change drew a moan from you that was pure, unfiltered pleasure. He watched you, his eyes locked on your face, taking in every gasp and shiver as he pushed you closer to the edge all over again. The contrast of his gentle kisses and the more forceful rhythm of his hips was dizzying, a perfect mix of soft and rough that left you completely undone beneath him.

“God, you’re so good,” Chris groaned, his voice ragged as his thrusts became more deliberate, driving deeper, hitting that perfect spot that made your vision blur. “So perfect… just like that. You’re taking me so well.”

The praise sent another surge of pleasure through you, the words mingling with the physical sensations in a way that left you desperate and on the brink. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as you matched his rhythm, meeting each thrust with equal fervor, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. The intensity of it all—the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way his eyes never left yours—was overwhelming, every sense heightened as you chased that peak together.

Chris’s grip on your hips tightened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, each one hitting deeper, harder, making you cry out in a mix of pleasure and need. You were teetering on the edge, every nerve alight with the anticipation of release, and Chris seemed to know exactly how to keep you there, balancing right on that line between gentle and rough, teasing and intense.

“Come on,” he urged softly, his voice thick with desire as he quickened his pace, pushing you closer with every movement. “Let go for me. I want to feel you come.”

His words were all it took. The coil inside you snapped, pleasure washing over you in waves that left you breathless and trembling beneath him. You moaned his name, your body clenching around him as you came undone, every muscle tensing in bliss. Chris’s rhythm stuttered as he followed you over the edge, his own release hitting with a guttural groan that vibrated through you, his thrusts slowing but never losing their intensity as he rode out the high.

He collapsed against you, both of you panting and tangled together in the aftermath, the heat of your shared release still thrumming between you. Chris’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, a soft, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice full of affection as he pressed a tender kiss to your lips, the intensity of the moment giving way to a quiet, blissful calm. You smiled back, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours. Everything felt perfect, and for a moment, you were just lost in the warmth of being wrapped up in him.

But then Chris’s familiar smirk returned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Not gonna lie, though—I’m still thinking about how you said I couldn’t make you beg. How’d that work out for you, huh?” His tone was laced with playful arrogance, the kind that made your cheeks burn in the best way.

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a rush of embarrassment and excitement all at once. “Okay, fine, I might’ve underestimated you. Just a little.”

Chris grinned, leaning back slightly to get a good look at you, his gaze sweeping over your still-flushed skin. “A little? Babe, you were practically chanting my name. I mean, I knew I was good, but fuck—you were giving me a whole damn concert.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some level of composure even as your pulse quickened at his words. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it. I was just… caught up in the moment.”

He chuckled, his fingers tracing teasing circles on your thigh. “Sure, ‘caught up in the moment.’ Whatever helps you sleep at night. But let’s be real—you loved every second of it. Didn’t know you had it in you to sound that desperate.”

You bit your lip, feeling both flustered and turned on by his teasing. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Chris replied, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm, but there was a warmth in his eyes that softened the edge. “You think I’m gonna let this go? Nah, I’m framing that moment in my mind. You, begging for me? That’s top-tier content right there.”

You shoved his shoulder playfully, though your heart was still racing. “Fine, you win this round. But next time, you’re not getting off that easy.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning downright wicked. “Oh, is that right? Big talk from someone who was begging for me just five minutes ago. But hey, I’m down for a rematch anytime. Maybe next time, I’ll make you work for it.”

Your laughter filled the room, mingling with his low chuckles, and you felt a surge of warmth at how effortlessly you two slipped back into your usual rhythm. “You wish. Next time, I’m gonna have you begging, and we’ll see who’s talking big then.”

Chris pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Oh, I’m counting on it. But let’s be honest—I think you like begging for me a little too much. You were practically begging for my—”

You cut him off with a kiss, unable to resist the playful challenge in his voice. The kiss was heated, all teeth and tongue, and when you pulled back, Chris was grinning like he’d just won a prize.

“You’re a cocky bastard, you know that?” you said, shaking your head but unable to hide your smile.

Chris laughed, running a hand through his messy hair as he leaned back, completely unbothered. “Yeah, but you love it. And I’m not gonna lie, hearing you beg… might be my new favorite sound.”

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sonknuxadow · 1 year

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the thing about mightourge is that ive never seen a single piece of content for that ship that doesnt make one or both of them wildly out of character. its always making scourge into this like. uwu soft boy who just needs someone to love him and then he'll become good. even though hes evil he sucks the whole idea behind his creation was just sonic but if he was an asshole. and mighty is a nice guy who doesnt particularly like needless violence but they always make him go "i can fix him <3333" over scourge. even though he is Like That. if we're going by their canon personalities mighty probably wouldnt be romantically interested in scourge at all. it feels like a ship that was invented for people who never actually read archie sonic and just like the version of scourge that exists in their head that they got from fanart and fanfiction. idk how to explain my thoughts properly but hopefully people will understand

#imo m/ightourge could only work if scourge had a redemption arc of some kind but people dont wanna write a scourge redemption arc #they just wanna pretend he was never bad in the first place and was just acting out because deep down hes really sad or whatever #and there Are reasonable options for mighty ships so its not like people just ship him with scourge because theyre desperate #to find a ship for him either? like. knuckles and sonic are right there pair mighty with one of them. or both of them. he has 2 hands #i cant really think of any options for scourge though except for fiona but i dont really care for them #but i also dont care about 95 percent of the romance in archie. so #maybe people just paired them up out of desperation for a gay scourge ship i dont know #but people being desperate to have a ship for every single character is still annoying #have mighty and scourge even interacted in the comics. i dont think they have but i could be misremembering #im not like. completely against shipping characters who have little to no interaction. as a w/avouge liker that would be hypocritical of me #but at least a lot of the time with ships like that the characters have something in common or have potential for an interesting dynamic #so you can see where people got the idea to ship them #mighty and scourge just feels like people got it from randomly generating 2 sonic characters to pair together #like i genuinely cannot think of any reason people would want them to be a couple #sorry for being a hater. not sorry actually

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taeyongdoyoung · 28 days

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wolf and bunny

summary: you ask your best friend to fuck you in your sleep but your bottled up feelings come out to the surface... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to lovers warnings: cnc/somnophilia, discussion of boundaries, eating out, touching, groping, unprotected sex, spanking, stranger+wolf/bunny roleplay, little red riding hood references, face-slapping (once), size kink, cockwarming, multiple rounds, feelings (ew), pet names, discussion of future scenario 👀 (i know i said this is the end but...we'll see) author's note: hii everyone, this is the third and final part of my wolf and bunny series, thank you so much for going on this nasty journey with me 🤍 part one & part two word count: 2k

You and Chan are having a bit of a disagreement in connection with the circumstances surrounding your next game.

“But I want to know exactly which night you’ll do it.”

“If you know, you won’t be able to fall asleep,” Chan reasons with you. “Kinda like Santa Claus. Kids stay up all night waiting for him and then he never comes.”

“Please, even if the kids were asleep, he’d still never come ‘cause the parents are putting the presents under the tree!”

“It was just a metaphor.”

“A bad one. You’re gonna have to work harder to convince me.”

“Hey, wasn’t this your idea in the first place?” Chan reminds you teasingly. “You’re the one who wants me to fuck her in her sleep.”

“Ey, don’t pretend you won’t be into it,” you shake your head.

You are both so stubborn you don’t see this ending unless one of you retreats. Then, after a brief consideration, you speak again.

“Fine. You can keep the secret of the exact night you’ll do this. On one condition.”

“Sure, bunny, let’s hear it,” Chan listens eagerly.

“If I wake up, you won’t stop. I’ll just pretend I’m still sleepy and we keep going.”

“Is that even possible? I mean, for you to not wake up?”

“It is if you drug me or something,” you shrug.

“Ugh, don’t give me such evil ideas. You never know when I might take advantage of you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it, wolfie.”

“But are you sure the sleep thing is a great idea? I mean, you wouldn't be able to say a safeword...” Chan can't help but worry, always putting your needs first and planning every scenario in great detail to make sure you're alright. Damnit, could he get any more perfect? He's so sweet and considerate you wish you could just tell him how you feel. But what if that scares him away? What if you lose not only your wicked game buddy but your best friend in the entire world? You wouldn't be able to live with yourself.

“Yes, I'm positive, Chris,” you place your hand on top of his. “I trust you 100% and know that you'll look after me. The question is, do you trust my judgement?”

“I mean, I do trust you. It's just that last time you didn't communicate your discomfort clearly and I wouldn't want to risk messing up to the point of accidentally hurting you,” Chan verbalizes his anxieties.

“I get what you're saying but it's not like I'm open to doing this with a stranger. It's you we're talking about. You've always been great at taking care of people so I know you wouldn't go too far. But at the same time, I wouldn't mind if you went loose. If anyone can take it and accept you fully, it would be me.”

“Yeah, I know. You're right. But just in case, I want you to know beforehand that I care about you and respect you like a lot. So, even if I get carried away, I still want you to feel safe.”

“Aww, Chris, ya old softie! I always feel safe with you, it goes without saying!” you insist.

“Well, I like hearing you say it.”

You gulp nervously. His voice is so commanding and yet so reassuring that your words have never rung truer. He's more to you than a safety net and you hope he knows it. He's incredibly thoughtful and infinitely kinder than the first expression. He's a riddle in the way he keeps surprising you and yet you wanna keep learning more about him. He's hundreds of the loveliest words in the dictionary multiplied. He's more comforting than your favourite blanket. He's warmth personified and you would be an idiot to let him go.

“I'll try to say it more often, then,” you promise. “When I'm with you, I know no harm will come my way. But here's the thing...you're the only one I'd willingly let hurt me.”

“I don't want to hurt you, though.”

“You don't?” you pout, suddenly feeling guilty. Then, what have you been doing? Was he forcing himself to act out these fantasies for your sake alone? You genuinely thought he was enjoying them as much as you were.

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” Chan is quick to explain. “I like our games. I meant that I don't want to hurt you emotionally. Ever.”

“Ah, yeah, that makes sense,” you chuckle, feeling a little stupid. “Well, you don't need to worry about that. Glad we had this talk.”

“Me too,” Chan gazes at you fondly.

“So, which night are you fucking me while I'm asleep?” you attempt to find out while he has this dazed look in his eye.

“Next- Hey, nice try! I'm not telling you, you impatient devil.”

“Aw, man, I was so close,” you bemoan the uncertainty of your future.

“You wish.”

The long-awaited night finally arrives. Chan has a key to your place so entering it is too easy. He makes sure he picks a night when you’ve complained about being exhausted and sleepy all day long. And he is certain that you’re passed out in your room, not suspecting a thing. Well, a part of you is always anticipating what could happen, but still.

He’s beyond glad to find you sound asleep. You’re wearing nothing but a t-shirt and some flimsy panties. Chan admires your sleeping form for a couple of brief moments before he gets down to business.

He wonders where to start. Should he tear them up? Or maybe push them to the side? Should he grope your boobs through your shirt? Or perhaps slide his hands beneath it, stroking your nipples directly? So many opportunities. He wants to do everything, he decides.

Chan starts by moving your panties to the side and licking your tiny pussy. He touches you with his fingers, gently prodding your entrance but not exactly sticking them inside yet. Then, he sneaks his hand underneath your shirt, teasing your nipples. Fuck, you’re so soft.

He marvels at the knowledge that you’d trust him with something like that. Though the previous scenarios were hot and intense as fuck, this one hits different for him. Maybe because last time you were awake, you were still in control because you could say the safeword whenever. Maybe because you want him at your most vulnerable even in your sleep. Or maybe because he’s slowly falling for you, but he doesn’t know how to say it.

It’s okay. Chan’ll show you, instead. He pinches your nipples lightly and continues to make out with your pussy. You are so wet already it’s adorable. He wonders if you’re dreaming of him, as you shift slightly in your sleep. He wants to drag this out. But how?

He uses his nails to trace circles on your skin, which causes goosebumps to appear. Are you cold? He wants to keep you warm and full at all times. Chan can’t take it any longer and takes his cock out, sliding in so perfectly. As if you were made for him. Made to take his cock and let him do crazy things to you. His sweet little bunny…

You moan desperately and the spell is broken. You’re awake. He wanders if you’ll speak or he’ll have to make you. Both options sound quite appealing. But he wants to hear your voice more than anything.

“Shhh, go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Chan whispers gently.

“W-who are you?” you cry out.

Aw, you’re gonna pretend not to know him? That hurts. But it can be fun, he thinks.

“Just the big bad wolf,” he chuckles at the irony of it.

“Please, don't do this,” you fake not wanting it, even though you've never wanted anything so badly in your life.

“Oh, bunny, but I already am,” Chan replies, spanking your ass a couple of times in the meantime.

“G-gonna split me in h-half,” you mumble, voice muffled against your pillow.

“Yeah? G'na ruin my sweet girl?” he speaks to you so softly you want to melt right there and then.

“Feel so full 'n so s'eepy,” you slur helplessly.

“Aw, tiny, go back to sleep, then,” Chan pats your head soothingly.

“Can't. What a deep voice you have!” you play along too well.

“All the better to degrade you with, my slutty bun,” Chan laughs, while still continuing to fuck you.

“What big hands you have!” you keep saying.

“All the better to grab your tits with,” Chan chuckles and makes good on his promise by playing with your boobs.

“And slap me with!” you remind him playfully.

“As you wish, princess,” Chan growls and slaps you across the face harshly but not harsh enough to actually leave a mark.

“What big eyes you have,” you sigh wistfully.

“All the better to stare at you fall apart,” Chan responds cleverly.

“And what big cock you have!” you scream, barely resisting the urge to laugh. Are you a silly little bunny or Little Red Riding Hood? At this point, you don't care, but it feels too good regardless.

“All the better to fuck you with,” he grunts loudly, spilling inside of you.

You follow rightaway and urge him to stay like this for a while. Maybe round two is in order?

“You know what else is big?” Chan teases you.

“Oh, shut up, Bigfoot!” you reply and are no longer able to hold it in, breaking into laughter. Chan also finds the interaction hilarious and buries his head in the nook of your shoulder. You stroke his hair without realizing. Shit, he's so adorable you almost say the three words. Is it too risky? Too soon? You need a distraction. You need... “Fuck me again.”

“Already? Aren't you tired?” Chan wants to make sure.

“Fuck me till I fall asleep again,” you ask him.

“Um, okay, sure,” Chan looks a bit confused but does as you ask.

This time there is less talking and more fucking but no matter how many rounds you go, sleep doesn't come again. You both orgasm more times than you could count, but somehow, it isn't nearly enough to distract you from the inevitable. You love him. Your heart knows it, your pussy knows it, even your brain knows it but is stubborny telling you not to confess for fear of somehow ruining things.

Once Chan decides he's completely spent for the night, he pulls out of you and rips off the bandaid.

“Are you alright? Something suddenly shifted but I can't quite place it,” he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and nudges you softly with his shoulder.

“Do you want the truth that might mess up everything or do you want me to lie to you and say I'm fine?” you ask, even though you're already on the verge to tell the truth.

“With you? Always the truth, please,” Chan clearly states his preference.

You sigh deeply and tilt to the side so you're facing him properly.

“I think...no, I know I love you.”

“I love you, too, babybun,” Chan responds fondly and kisses you on the nose.

“In a non-friendly way. And I don't mean just sexually, either. I mean, the friendly way and the sexual way haven't diminished, of course. But I also love you in a...I want to be yours, your girlfriend, your lover, your romantic partner, your everything.”

Chan is taken aback by your words. You...feel the same?

“You already are,” he confesses genuinely.

“Huh?” you blink in shock.

“I mean...you are already my everything. But, if you'd like me to officially ask you, then...will you be my girlfriend, angel?”

“You...you'll have me?” you are still in disbelief.

“I thought I already had ya,” Chan pinches your cheeks lightly.

“Damn right you do, Mr. Wolf,” you giggle and pull him into a kiss.

He smells like autumn, his embrace exudes warmth and his lips taste like home.

“You have no idea how badly I've wanted to tell you about my feelings,” Chan confesses. “When I found that story of yours in your drafts, I just couldn't resist the opportunity. I hoped that if I turned your fantasies into reality that you'd eventually fall for me.”

“Oh, Channie...I've been falling for you for longer than you realize,” you admit shyly. “How could I not? You're everything I've ever wanted.”

So, this is what it feels like to have the world in your hands. Huh. You could get used to it.

Bonus:

“No, I'm not kidnapping you!” Chan is adamant as you two sit in a nice restaurant.

“But Chriiiis,” you whine. “You said you'd do anything for my birthday.”

“Anything but that!” Chan shakes his head in amusement.

“Why not? It can be fun!”

“Fun? What if something goes wrong, what if someone sees us and thinks I'm actually kidnapping you, what if...hear me out, here, I go to prison for it?”

“Well, duh, then I'd bail you out!”

“As if you could afford it,” Chan rolls his eyes.

“Hey! But seriously, I'll just tell the cops that I asked you to kidnap me.”

“What if they don't believe you and think you have a Stockholm syndrome?”

“I'll...think of something. Come on, we're going too far with the what-ifs.”

“You gotta be prepared for any situation. You'd know that if you carried the heavy burden of being a dom,” Chan tsks at you.

“I'd know that if you let me,” you give him a wink.

“That will only happen the day I agree to fake-kidnap you.”

“So, tomorrow? It's a date!” you grin excitedly.

“Keep dreaming, darling.”

“Oh, I will.”

The End

#bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan x reader #chan smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #stray kids #chan #writing

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minarinnn · 9 months

Text

“notice me” pt2

luke castellan x aphrodite!reader | pt1

content/trigger warnings: fem!reader, SMUTT, p in v, virgin!luke, unprotected sex, rough sex, bold!reader

it’s been a week since that day and you haven’t spoken to luke at all. if he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were ignoring him

you were. but this was all part of your twisted game. he made you wait for months, now it’s his time to wait. you wanted him to feel how you felt, maybe then you’ll give into your desires

you’d pretend not to see him, or be busy with studying or teaching your younger half-siblings. luke grew more and more impatient by the minute. he knew that you had always been a master at playing with peoples feelings, being aphrodite’s daughter and all, but this was going too far. he didn't understand why you were ignoring him when it was you who wanted his attention in the first place

every time he saw that you were free, you would leave. you wouldn’t even shoot him your flirty smile like you always did, all you did was spare him a simple glance

he felt like he was going insane, he’s never had to fight for your attention. it just came naturally. how you’d bat your eyelashes at him while complimenting his fighting style, or how you’d place your hand on his bicep as you spoke to him

he never thought he’d be the one doing the chasing. so, finally, after what felt like an eternity of being ignored, luke had had enough. he walked up to your dining table, interrupting your conversation with your half-sister, drew. “hey, can we talk?” he spoke, voice low and almost sounding desperate

“sure” you agree, watching as he bites the inside of his cheek. “in private” he mutters out, eyes boring into your own. you nod, following him to the storage shed just outside his cabin.

you enter the small, dark shed, feeling luke’s intense gaze on you. it feels almost like it's burning holes into your skin, like he's trying to see right through you. he leaned on the wall, crossing his arms under his chest, his muscles subconsciously flexing showing just how toned his muscles actually are

luke took a deep breath before speaking, his voice low and serious. "so, why’ve you been ignoring me all week?" his eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of an explanation. you remained composed, not wanting to give away the game you were playing. "my world doesn’t revolve around you, castellan” you said with a playful smile

luke clicked his tongue, clearly frustrated. "dont play games with me, you know exactly what I'm talking about” he took a step closer to you, eyes locked on yours “answer my question”

you felt your heart pound in your chest as luke steadily closed the distance between you. his presence was inescapable, and the tension between you was palpable. you felt yourself getting needier by the second. the way your pussy throbbed at just his words had you weak

you looked at him through hooded eyes, a playful smile still tugging at your lips. “you wanna know that bad, huh?” you said, putting your hands to his toned chest. “you drive me insane” he whispered, lust practically pouring out of his body

“i know” you chuckled softly. luke just looks at you, his expression unreadable. leaning in, he finally kisses you. the kiss is sudden and fierce, his lips pressing against yours with a hunger that you haven't seen in him before. you wrap your arms around luke’s neck, pulling him closer to you. the kiss becomes more desperate as he pushes you against the wall, it was more urgent, as if neither of you could get enough of the other

his hands are quick to find their way under your shirt, groping your breast over your bra. he was desperate to get the fabric off of you, desperate to feel you

he takes his own shirt off, you following suit. you giggle as his fingers fumble on the clip of your bra, fingers stumbling against each other as he blindly tries to take it off. you help him, of course.

his mouth quickly latches on to one of your perky nipples, groaning with a sense of satisfaction while his fingers pinch the other, making you squirm under his touch

your fingers pull and scratch on his scalp, a feeling he’s seeming to enjoy to the fullest, given the way he’s moaning against your skin. your free hand undoes his belt, efficiently pulling his pants down under his hips. a voice in the back of his head wanted to ask you if you’ve done this before, but he was too fucking horny to wanna do anything else in that moment

he’s panting, face flushed as he pull don’t your shorts along with your panties, biting his lip to prevent the whine he was gonna let out once he saw the mess you’ve made on your panties. he hasn’t even done much, talk about an ego boost

he’s snapped out from his thought when he feels your cold manicured fingers wrap around his length giving it a few strokes. the tip of his dick flushed a bright reddish pink, feeling the veins throb in your hand at the newly found sensation

“first time?” you tease, knowing full well that it was. “i’ll be gentle, promise” he replied smugly, raising on of your legs to his hip, tip aligning with your entrance. the moment he pushes the tip in, you both gasp. he’s much bigger than you expected, and you’re much tighter than he expected

“fuck” he panted out “s’tight”. your nails dug crescent moons on his shoulders as he sunk the rest of his length into your throbbing cunt. he’s quick to pull out and slam back into you, making you shamelessly moan out his name and your eyes rolling back

he might not have done this before, but he knows how sex works. he promised he’d be gentle, but luke castellan isn’t know for keeping promises, is he? and after you made him wait a whole week, you more than deserve a little punishment

so he’s thrusting up into you, giving you little to no time to adjust to his cock. and you’re so loud about it too. so he puts his middle and index finger into your mouth. “suck” is the only thing he says before your cheeks hollow out and your tongue wraps around his fingers. he can feel the vibrations of your moans through his arms and it’s coursing straight to his dick, making it throb inside of you

“good girl” he mutters into your neck, making you tighten impossibly tighter around his dick. a few more thrust and your cumming on his cock. he doesn’t let you come down from your high, his thrust maintain the same quick and rough pace they had before, making you whine against his fingers at the overstimulation

tears pooling in your eyes as he’s kissing your forehead. “you’re doing s’good f’me baby” he’d grunt out “im gonna fuckin’ ruin you”

#luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan smut #pjo luke castellan #luke smut #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x reader smut

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chelseeebe · 6 months

Text

we can’t be friends.

a little fake dating situation in which eddie must pretend to be your boyfriend to keep up pretences, but then feelings start to become hazy and now he’s not sure if you could ever be just friends again.

a/n: i’m reading this back and actually not liking it as much as i first did hahahaah but i hope you enjoy!! i just wanted to reiterate my hate for the duffers and the fact that they didn’t give him any other t-shirt other than that dang hellfire one>:(

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of bad parent/s. modern au i guess but it’s hardly mentioned. no use of y/n!

eddie wasn’t expecting to walk in to you so stressed.

it was the usual thursday movie night but you’d answered the door with a green complexion and the look of a deer in headlights.

“what’s wrong?” he perplexes, shutting the door behind him as you continue to pace the living room floor.

you sigh, blinking at him as you stop for a few seconds. you’re contemplating something, sizing him up with your eyes narrowed. it makes him a little unsettled if he’s honest.

“next week, are you free?”

“what?” wondering what the hell that had to do with your nervous exterior.

“are you free?” you press.

“uh.. probably, why?” not an inch of sense in your words.

“you wanna come on vacation with me? i mean- it’s not so much a vacation but a family reunion, but can you come?” chewing on your fingernail.

“when? what? why?” rattling through all of his questions all at once.

you sigh again, frustrated with his lack of understanding, “family reunion, i can’t do it alone eds..” your hands cycle around the air, “josh was supposed to come with me but obviously.. that’s not happening so can you come?”

eddie’s face finally un-scrunches. it all made sense now.

you’d spoken enough about your crazy parents and subsequently just why you’d moved halfway across the country to get away from them to understand why you didn’t want to go on your own.

he’d also been elated when you’d told him that you and josh had broken up. eddie had never liked him, in fact, if were given the chance, he thinks he’d punch him square in the face.

that hadn’t really helped you of course, so he kept it mostly to himself. but if the opportunity were ever to arise, he’d do it. no shame.

“oh, shit, why didn’t you just ask me in the first place?” he laughs, rolling in his eyes in jest as he collapses on the couch.

“i’ve asked everyone.. and i mean, everyone and they couldn’t, i was scared!” your body relaxes, coming to join him on the couch.

“oh thanks,” eddie scoffs, “so i was the last resort?”

“no,” you prod him in the side, “i didn’t think you’d wanna come, that’s all.”

“yeah right,” chuckling as you hand him a beer, “i don’t mind, i’ll suffer for you,” popping the lid off and taking a swig.

“thank you,” you exhale, leaning back against the couch, “really. it means a lot.”

“so what are we doing? skiing? sightseeing?” eddie probes, making himself comfortable.

you scoff, “oh no, it’s at my aunt’s beach house in illinois.. it’s big enough for you to have your own room and shit, you’ll just have to pretend to like craft beer and talk baseball with my dad.”

eddie’s head hits the back of the couch, groaning loudly, “baseball? man, i dunno if i can make it anymore.”

you throw him the dirtiest glare, “you’re not funny.”

despite your words, he falls into a fit of laughter truly not making your scowl any lesser. he knows you appreciate him deep down, given the fact that you hadn’t hit him yet.

the drive across indiana isn’t too bad, eddie only wishes he hadn’t let you control the music for the entirety of the journey.

“just..” you exhale, glancing warily over at him from the passenger seat, “just be normal, okay? don’t let them piss you off,” nodding with every word.

“you don’t trust me?” he grins, earning a deathly glare. “i won’t piss them off.. don’t worry,” turning his sarcastic mocking into kindness.

your eyes squeeze shut before you slide out of the door, doubting your choice to bring eddie along.

your parents open the door with a wide smile and their arms extended, pulling you in before looking over at eddie, obviously slightly taken aback with the man at their door.

he offers his hand out, “i’m eddie, nice to meet you sir,” feeling very judged and not at all surprised, not with all your horror stories.

your dad takes his hand, gripping on tight as he eyes him up and down, “so this is the boyfriend,” humming quietly, “it’s good to finally meet you, son.”

eddie freezes, eyes sliding from your parents to you to find you in the exact same position.

boyfriend?

“uh..” you fumble, mouth opening and closing somewhat like a fish, “yes! yes.. this is him,” chuckling nervously.

oh shit.

his week of rest and relaxation was about to become a week of performing and lies.

you watch eddie anxiously, your eyes speaking a thousand words. praying he doesn’t mess up, doesn’t embarrass you in front of them.

“yeah.. yeah, that’s me,” he nods hurriedly, going to shake your mom’s hand, “lovely to meet you.. miss.”

now eddie wasn’t opposed to pretending to be your boyfriend but fuck, really? he needed at least a week to prepare and rehearse, rather than you throwing him into a week of improvisation at a whim.

the literal second the door to your shared bedroom shuts, eddie spins on his heel, jaw clenched with an exasperated expression.

“what the fuck?” he whispers, rather loudly.

“i’m sorry!” you hush back, eyes wide, “i- i.. i didn’t have a choice! fuck, i’m really sorry,” anger turning to regret as you flop onto the bed, head in hands.

well great. now he feels guilty. you’re almost sobbing when he joins you on the bed, pressing his lips together in frustration.

“hey! it’s fine.. it’s fine,” he assures, “shit, it’ll be fun,” bumping his shoulder into yours playfully.

you sniffle pathetically, looking up at him with tearful eyes, “i’m really sorry.. i panicked,” bottom lip wobbling.

god, you look like the reincarnation of bambi.

his heart pangs, guilt wracking his chest for the slight overreaction.

“i know,” nodding slightly, “it’s okay.. it’ll be funny, you know?” he’s not sure that it’ll be anymore funny than it’ll be stressful, but he’s prepared to see this week through.

for you.

it’s the little things that make a relationship a relationship. things eddie hadn’t ever considered.

like the seemingly insignificant touches and the casual kisses. all things he now had to meticulously plan and prepare for.

nothing was ever too much. a gentle peck on the cheek or a graze of the knee. things no one would really notice unless you weren’t doing them.

you grab his hand walking to the table for dinner and he almost starts cackling until he remembers, now hoping that his palm wasn’t sweating too much.

that night in bed, you turn to face him, tiny smile creeping onto your face, “i think my cousin likes you, i mean- did you see the look on her face when you walked into dinner?”

eddie lets his phone fall onto his chest, flabbergasted at your suggestion, “what are you talking about?”

you hit his arm, furrowing your brows, “c’mon, she was totally checking you out, don’t pretend you didn’t notice,” rolling your eyes in jest.

if he’s honest, he really didn’t notice.

he’d been too preoccupied by you in that damn dress to care about anyone else at the table.

eddie didn’t get to see you dressed up often and the dress was sitting just right, he couldn’t exactly focus on much else.

“oh, are you getting jealous?” he mocks.

you tut, shaking your head, “maybe after we’ve fake-broken up you two can get together.”

“you are jealous,” he laughs, sliding his phone onto the nightstand and settles into bed, “what if i don’t wanna fake-break up?” only half-serious as he says it.

“well then i’ll get a fake-restraining order against you,” poking your tongue out before turning the lamp off. “goodnight, eddie,” he can hear the smile in your voice as you roll over.

there’s a quiet, niggling little voice somewhere in the back of his mind. or maybe it’s his heart speaking.

whatever it is, he doesn’t feel the need to acknowledge it. at least not right now anyway.

eddie supposes that a vacation at your aunt’s beach house would entail seeing you in little clothing but he can’t help the little woah from leaving his mouth when you walk out of the bathroom in a tiny bikini top.

“don’t be fucking weird,” you frown, eyes trailing down to his hot dog swimming trunks.

“i’m not!” he exclaims, still trying to draw his eyes away from your chest, “i’ve just never seen.. them,” eyes widening at your revealing bikini.

your eyes roll to the back of your head, expressing your disgust with a small groan.

the entire day is made significantly harder by your top, or lack thereof. eddie finds his gaze slipping downward and every so often has to remind himself that he’s not actually your boyfriend and he doesn’t have the rights to ogle you.

it’s just hard to focus on a thing your dad says to him when you’re sat in front of him like that.

his limits are tested when your cousin suggests a game of tennis. already calling eddie for her team as you get into position on the opposite side of the court.

perhaps you were right, her unnecessary, constant touching sent alarm bells ringing in his head. not that he’s paying it any mind, too distracted by your chest as you bound around the court.

so much so, he completely misses the ball, letting it bounce off of the court and into a hedge somewhere.

“eddie!” she shrieks, running off to collect the ball.

your eyes lock from over the net, your brows threaded together, “how about we swap teams? you join me,” pointing your finger at his face, gesturing for him to join you, which he does with a smile.

mostly just glad to be away from her wandering hands but also, he gets to prove a point.

“you are jealous,” eddie smirks, hushed tones as he speaks into your ear. you’re so close now, enough to touch.

he wants to.

he wants to so bad.

even if it were just to make your cousin seethe with envy.

“me? never,” smacking your racket gently at his leg, earning a nasty glare from your unhappy cousin who smacks the ball far too harshly towards him.

he’s too hot and bothered to do much after such an exciting game of tennis, walking in stride with you as you enter the large house. blabbering away about something or nothing when your mom announces her presence rather loudly.

“oh god,” pulling a face as she eyes your outfit, “you really should coverup sweetie, nobody wants to see that,” cackling away to herself.

eddie’s floored, utterly stunned that she’d ever say something like that, let alone to your face. your despairing expression stabs him in the heart, choking him from the inside out.

“well i do,” grinning at the lady in front of him.

“of course you do, you’re a man,” the older woman sighs, “i think it’s a little disgusting to just.. have everything out there,” gesturing to your chest, “women should have pride in their appearance, you know?”

you blink, chewing the inside of your lip as you nod. shrinking into yourself as you glide up the stairs. in an ideal world, he’d call her a bitch and move on with his life, however, he supposes that probably wouldn’t be wise.

she tuts, shaking her head at the stairs, “she’s always so offended.. can’t say a thing to her.”

eddie bites his tongue, diverting from what he truly wanted to say to offer some mild criticism, “maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all,” shrugging as he flies past her and up the stairs, hot on your trail.

the bedroom’s empty though the en-suite door is closed, a muffled sniff coming from the other side. he hates that she’s made you cry, that she’s capable of even making you feel bad when you had absolutely zero reason to.

his knuckles rap against the door, pressing his cheek to the wood, “it’s me.”

there’s a small scuffle and then the lock clicks though the door remains closed. having to console you after the amazing afternoon you’d had feels wrong.

he creeps inside, closing the door behind him. you’re slouched on the toilet, tears leaking down your warm cheeks. it’s a punch to the gut to see you like this. all those harsh stories you’d recalled to him suddenly made a shit ton of sense.

“you okay?” eddie asks, the answer already overwhelmingly obvious.

“yeah,” you sigh, wiping your sodden cheeks, sniffling for good measure.

“you shouldn’t listen to her,” he affirms, perching on the bathtub, “don’t let her upset you.. it’s not worth it,” although his words probably fall on deaf ears, you already know this.

“i know..” staring up at him with your puppy dog eyes, “i’m sorry, she just.. ugh,” snarling your lip, “she knows how to make me feel like shit.”

“what the hell are you apologising to me for?” eddie jokes, poking you in the arm, “she’s just jealous,” choosing wisely where to go from here, “she doesn’t look as good as you do and she doesn’t like that.”

his words crack a tiny smile on your lips, mission accomplished.

“thanks,” you nod, “i mean that. thank you for even coming with me.. i couldn’t do it without you.”

his heart swells a little, or a lot really.

this is a dangerous game, he thinks. wanting nothing more than to cradle you in his arms.. blur the boundaries a little more.

how much more blurred could they possibly get before eddie had to admit to his feelings?

he’s not sure he wants to find out.

on reflection, it had been a pretty good week. at least eddie thinks so, pretending to be your boyfriend wasn’t exactly normal or anything he’d ever pictured himself doing. but he’s enjoyed it nonetheless.

despite a new found, deep hatred for your mother, he doesn’t think the rest of your family were that bad. willing to volunteer for any other vacations you might be forced to drag him on.

nowhere near as testing as he once thought it would be. in reality, the hardest part about it all was that he had to go home alone tomorrow.

as both of you lounge on the bed, the tv prattling on in the background, he smiles, gently elbowing you in the side.

“y’know this week has been fun,” reminiscing on all the stupid things he’s had to do to sell this story.

one night, you had helped yourself to a little too much wine. stumbling all over the vast garden as your family watched on in horror. so eddie did what any good boyfriend would do and slung you over his shoulder, giggling into his back as he manoeuvred his way up to your room.

not only the public displays of affection come back to him, but also the seemingly minuscule ones. where only you were involved. sneaky laughs and glances that only the two of you could understand.

“mhm,” you hum, sliding your bookmark into your book, “it has, thank you for doing this,” before leaning over to place your book onto the bedside table.

“i’ve enjoyed it,” he meets your eye, that same uncomfortable fluttering starts again in his chest, “being your ‘boyfriend’ i mean.”

you shuffle, turning to face him properly, “well.. i’ve enjoyed being your girlfriend,” lips twitching into a smile.

there’s something in the silence, a tension that feels ready to burst.

eddie does something he might live to regret, something so idiotic and foolish that put your entire friendship at risk.

he leans forward, hastily connecting your lips in what must be the world’s most awkward kiss.

you hesitate for too long of a moment, jerking your head back to stare into his eyes.

he’s done it. he’s ruined the single best thing he had left.

an apology begins to form on his tongue but your lips silence him, your hand finding his cheek to bring him closer. eddie’s eyes fall shut, slowly accepting this, that you wanted it too.

he repositions himself, at your mercy as you tug on his hair, now hovering above your body, elbows sinking into the mattress.

he can feel you now, your chest brushing against his, the way your heart rate seems to match his, thumping away in your chest.

“we should.. we should stop,” eddie pulls away, breathlessly panting with your lips still tracing over one another.

“no.. no,” you shake your head, your eyes shiny and full of something he can’t place.

“what?”

“kiss me again,” you demand.

he’s not quite certain he’s hearing you right. fear had forced him to tear himself away but now you were asking for him to do it again?

eddie falters for a second too long, forcing you into kissing him, smashing your lips to his as your fingers scramble to find the back of his neck under his hair.

oh my god oh my god oh my god.

your entire family are in this house and he’s going to desecrate this innocent bed with you, his fake-girlfriend.

he feels your knee slide up his thigh, allowing him more space between your legs. now it’s more than just your chests meshed together, his poor sweatpants tightening with every slight buck of your hips. blood rushing to his cock as you gasp and sigh into his mouth.

he has to pull himself back into the room when your hand slides from his neck to his crotch, lightly tracing over his throbbing cock.

making out could be easily laughed off but this- this was serious.

“you.. you wanna do this?” he asks, gasping for breath as you continue to kiss at the side of his mouth.

“i want to do this,” you reaffirm, dipping your hand into the waistband of his sweatpants, drawing out a hoarse groan from his throat.

your hand wraps around the base of his cock, leaving a trail of kisses to his jaw.

his eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open as you start pumping your fist, thumb circling his leaking tip.

“oh my god,” eddie breathes, jolting his hips into your fist.

this entire week he had been internalising all of these intrusive thoughts and feelings about you and now it felt like he might genuinely cum all over your hand, not even five minutes into this.

it doesn’t at all help when you’re panting and writhing around underneath him, delicate fingers making him feel like he’s flying.

“f-fuck,” he stutters, grabbing your forearm, “you have to stop,” regaining just enough composure to reopen his eyes.

“why?” concern rippling through your voice.

now he falters, gazing into your lust filled eyes, pupils all blown out and crazy. it would be despicable if he were to divulge his embarrassing secret to you.

so he takes your arm, pinning it above your head before starting his descent, a paper chain of kisses and light grazings down your neck and chest.

it’s entirely too intimate for just friends, fake relationship or not.

“oh,” you sigh, head rolling back onto the pillow.

eddie has control now, regaining power without a damn clue of what to do with it. your shorts come down with his free hand with a little help from you, your ankle now comes to rest on his shoulder.

he should feel stronger than he does, rather more intimidated and fearful that he’s going to disappoint.

“please..” you pout, “please touch me,” he wonders if you can sense his anxiety.

he lets go of his grip on your wrist, trailing down your quivering body until he meets your lower stomach. this new position allows him access to your heat, wet and waiting for him.

“shit,” he mutters, sliding a solitary finger between your slick folds, watching as your chest heaves in response. “you’re so pretty,” he can’t help but blurt out.

“shut up and touch me,” you snap, chasing his touch with your hips.

eddie’s not going to deprive you of that now, is he?

circling around your clit, noting the way you groan and grab onto his arm. not that he thinks that there’ll ever be a second time for this.

your eager hands grab at his sweatpants, hoping that that’ll be enough of a hint.

he’s not going to last long, that’s for certain.

fed up with his stalling, you tug his sweatpants down, aiding him in sliding them off and onto the floor with a muffled thump.

your arms fan out across the mattress, glancing down at the minimal space between your bodies and then back into his eyes.

his entire body shudders as he slides into your eager cunt, bumbling through all of the profanity in his vocabulary. watching as your jaw falls slack, wary that you couldn’t make too much noise.

perhaps it was the fact that he’d been brushing off any even slightly sexual thought for an entire week or maybe it was just true but eddie swears that no one had ever felt this good before.

“fuck,” he wails, hips slamming against the backs of your thighs, digging his fingertips into the soft, mailable flesh of your hip.

just the way you grip onto the blanket makes him dizzy, letting his eyesight go hazy, a blurred picture of you sprawled underneath him.

the pleasure is insurmountable, something snapping in his stomach when your hand reaches out for him, gripping onto his forearm.

“eds,” you gasp, just loud enough over his barely contained grunts, “more,” sickening eyes doing all the work for you.

there’s not much more of him left to give, already nudging against your soft spot, repositioning your calf higher on his shoulder to allow him deeper, receiving a sweet whimper in return.

“yeah,” you pant, over and over, fingernails latching onto his skin. his arms start to shake, still holding himself up over you as his orgasm begins to catch up with him.

“shit.. i don’t- i don’t think..” eddie swallows, struggling to stay composed as you tighten around him, looking up at him through batting eyelashes.

it makes his stomach twist, barely able to move as his high comes crashing down, overtaking his senses, sweaty bodies colliding as he collapses on top of you.

“oh shit.. oh my god,” he whines, release painting your thigh, the sheet and even your fucking t-shirt.

he’s not ready for a child but he’s certain that’d have been worth it.

eddie glances at you, subsequently moving from your body onto the mattress. the entire high he had been feeling comes tumbling down, now faced with the reality that you were no longer just friends.

the ceiling becomes incredibly interesting, both of you avoiding eye contact as the silence somehow grows louder.

for a room that was just full of lewd, filthy noises, it sure is quiet now.

the blanket rustles and eddie dares a peek, you stand at the edge of the bed, disheveled and still slightly flustered.

you look down at the stain he had left, tutting quietly, “thanks a lot.. gonna have to change now,” adding a soft chuckle.

“sorry.. cheaper than a baby though,” adding to your banter, it’s indescribable the relief he feels.

eddie watches as you rummage around in your suitcase, no longer shying away as you pull your shirt over your head, shimmying into your clean clothes.

when you rejoin him in bed, the tension is mostly gone, the lamp clicking off, encompassing the room in total and utter darkness.

there’s a further moment of silence wherein eddie isn’t sure if he should bolt and hide or embarrass himself further and say something stupid.

something- someone, brushes against his ribcage as you shuffle, your hand coming to rest on his stomach.

there’s not a word exchanged between you but eddie takes the hint, sliding your hand further over his midriff. it’s a pathetic attempt at cuddling but it makes him flutter all the same.

eddie wakes up sprawled face first across the bed, blinking at the bright light, not a trace of you in the room.

he fucked up. he fucked up so bad that you’ve decided to find your own way home and left him here.

shit.

he clambers out of bed, pulling his hastily discarded sweatpants back on, remembering every last detail of your night last night.

the guilt comes in waves, and then embarrassment and shame jump in to make it worse.

years of friendship down the drain and for what?

he just about builds enough courage to leave the room and venture downstairs, creeping out onto the hall when you come bounding up the stairs, meeting him in the cramped corridor.

“hi,” smiling coyly, playing the oblivious game.

“hey,” he nods, reciprocating the smile.

nothing was ruined. you’re fine.

“i was just coming to wake you..breakfast’s ready,” you fiddle with your thumbs, a completely different version of yourself than the one he saw last night.

“oh good,” eddie blinks, “i’m starving,” wanting to smash his palm into his face the second the words come out.

“great!” you exclaim, the painful cringe coming through on your face too.

the two of you walk down the stairs in silence, sitting at the table with a small knowing glance.

this house is huge. he’s sure no one else would’ve heard.

he’s midway through his coffee when your dad leans across the table, probing the two of you, “so, will you be trying for kids anytime soon?”

eddie damn near chokes on the searing hot liquid, coughing his gulp back up into the mug, combatting the burning sensation travelling down his throat and also up into his cheeks.

why would he ask that? over breakfast no less.

“uh no.. nope,” you answer for him, thankfully.

“that’s a shame,” your father stands from the table, sliding his plate into the soapy water before making his way over to eddie, clapping him on the back, “you’re gonna have to make an honest woman outta her first son,” before shuffling off into the living room.

he wants to die. in fact, he’d much rather the ground open up and swallow the two of you alive than to be sat at this breakfast table.

judging by the look on your face, you share the sentiment.

he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you. he’s going to tell you.

he’s just not sure when or how. it’d be unfair for him to unload his feelings unto you at the beginning of the journey, not to mention also extremely inconvenient if you didn’t feel the same.

but then he’s also acutely aware that if he doesn’t force those words out soon, that they may never come out.

he’s just finished loading your bags into the back of his van, admittedly a little sad to be leaving.

it’s like, he could no longer pretend that what was going on was real. that last night might’ve just been a mistake and you want to cut ties here.

your phone blares from your hand, holding up a finger as you walk away to take the call.

eddie rehearses what he’s going to say to you. well, tries to.

i think you’re super cool, how about i become your boyfriend for real?

he cringes at the thought of it, it wasn’t really the declaration of love that you deserved.

the door opening startles him, your demeanour had done a complete one eighty, your shoulders slumped as you slide into the seat in silence.

“you all good?” eddie asks, wondering what had changed in such a short time.

“uh.. yeah.”

“y’sure?” he probes, not entirely convinced by your change in attitude.

“that was josh,” you swallow, looking straight ahead out of the windscreen, “he wants to see me when i’m back.. to talk.”

“oh,” he replies flatly, “wow okay.”

the life he had dreamed slowly crumbled before him, it was foolish to think that you’d just want to settle down with him now. he’d gotten ahead of himself and now had to reap the consequences.

“yeah..”

eddie doesn’t utter another word, instead, turning the key and starting the long, painful drive home.

maybe he’ll throw himself out of the van on the interstate. punishment for letting himself even slightly believe that you’d be interested in him too.

josh is waiting outside of your building when eddie pulls up, smug grin in tow.

tempted to just keep driving, smash into the side of his expensive shiny car and then reverse over his spindly little body.

that doesn’t happen of course.

instead, eddie keeps his head ducked low, muttering a low see you later before you clamber out. there’s so much left unsaid, even a complete idiot could see that.

he doesn’t watch as you walk over to your ex, certainly doesn’t want to see how his hands meet the small of your back and the way you seem to relax into his touch.

not a chance.

it’s eating him alive. even with the windows rolled down entirely, he’s sweating. as if it’s gnawing at his skin, trying to find a way out.

fuckfuckfuck.

tyres screech along the tarmac, his hands shaking as he turns the wheel. something otherworldly and dangerous overtakes his senses as he tears off back down the same road he’d just traveled.

and maybe he’d regret it and maybe it’d ruin your friendship forever but this week couldn’t have been for nothing.

you had to at least know.

eddie’s palms are wet, holding onto the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. he doesn’t recall the journey to your apartment being so fucking long but he feels like he’s in this stuffy van for an eternity.

the moment he pulls onto that familiar street, bile rises in his throat.

maybe josh would have sweet talked his way back into your life and he’d get his ass beat. or maybe you’d laugh him out of there, telling him to never contact you again.

he supposes that there’s not much left to lose now.

eddie hops out of his van without so much as a look back, bounding up the short path as the door swings open, nearly knocking him for six.

“eddie,” you remark, phone gripped in your hand. your jaw hangs open, what looks like tears stain your cheeks. “i was trying to call you.”

frankly, he’s still out of breath from the exhilaration of it all, struggling to find his words as he stares gormless at you, “my phone’s dead.. i didn’t- didn’t know.. what’s wrong?” mind immediately jumping to josh.

what had he done?

“nonono.. nothing’s wrong, i just..” you trail off, your gaze not once breaking, “why are you here?”

eddie’s mind goes blank, why was he here?

to tell you that he thinks he’s in love with you? he can’t say that.

“you.. left something- in the van.”

idiot.

total fucking fool.

“oh!” swallowing the shock of his arrival, “what? what is it?”

why are you both dancing around this? he’s sure you feel it too. maybe. that could be the adrenaline speaking.

“nothing.. you didn’t leave anything- i don’t know why i said that.” shaking his head, if he weren’t so nervous, he’d have been crippled with embarrassment. “look, i have to tell you something,” biding his time, hoping your crazed ex won’t pop out of a bush and pummel his head into the ground.

“eddie..” you start, that solemn tone he was dreading to hear.

“no, let me say it,” he tries again, clearing his throat, “i need to s-“

“-eddie,” cutting him off mid-sentence, bounding up to him with your arms extended, throwing them around his neck as you press your lips to his.

it’s almost enough force to knock him on his ass, his hands coming to meet your waist in an attempt to stabilise both of you.

you pull away, lips still pouted slightly, “sorry.. what were you gonna say?”

eddie can’t recall a word of the speech he’d halfheartedly rehearsed. “well shit.. doesn’t matter now,” once again pressing his lips to yours, swaying in the evening breeze as everything seems to fall into place.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader

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junkissed · 26 days

Text

goodnight n go

member — fwb!vernon x reader genre — smut, angst, non-idol au word count — 1.7k synopsis — you keep coming back for more, but every night ends the same. maybe this time things will be different. warnings — mentions of alcohol, drunk sex, car sex, guitarist!vernon, rock band!hhu, no physical descriptions of reader, vernon is afraid of commitment, sad ending for this part but there will be a part 2 with a happy ending !! notes — before you ask, yes this is based on the ariana song lol but also inspired by black eye because it's been stuck in my head the past few days. as always, thanks to @onlymingyus for reading over this for me <3 i'm still on hiatus and requests are closed but i randomly had inspiration to write something for vernon so i hope you enjoy! i am planning on writing more for this story, but i'm back at uni and my time is already quite limited, so i'll try to write more when i can! reblogs, comments, and asks are super appreciated, it means a lot and helps me keep writing so please lmk if you liked it :)

“hey, you wanna get drinks tonight?”

as usual, that’s how it starts.

you probably should have said no. you’d played this game before. you knew exactly what hansol meant when he offered to hang out after band practice, because it was never just “hanging out”.

you don’t even know why you still go to practices anymore. for a long time you’d avoided them; it wasn’t really your style, and you were never interested in being a groupie for their local gigs. your roommate seungcheol always invited you to every practice, and every time you declined with the excuse of homework or other plans, but cheol finally convinced you to come just one time.

at first, it had been because he wanted you to hear a new song they were working on and he’d wanted to know how you liked it before they played it at an upcoming show. but then he’d introduced you to the rest of his bandmates, and after that there was no going back.

you couldn’t help the way your eyes always gravitated towards hansol, who insisted that you call him his real name instead of his stage name that everyone else called him. from the very first practice, you were captivated by him: the way his long fingers seem to dance along the neck of his guitar so effortlessly, the way his voice rasps when he sings, the way your breath catches in your throat when he grips the microphone stand and rolls his head back, lips parted in ecstasy.

he’s addictive, and it’s exactly the reason why you find yourself in the backseat of his car over and over again.

every time, it was easy to pretend that things would be different. you’d walk into the bar together and sit at the table in the back, order a few drinks, chat for a while about nothing. did you like the new stuff we played tonight? yeah, i know cheol is really excited to perform it saturday. you been doing any writing lately? mmm, a little. i’ve been feeling inspired. we could go back to my place and i could show you. except he never does.

hansol wasn’t a bad guy. he always paid for your drinks no matter how many times you offered to pick up the tab, he was polite, he listened to what you had to say. he just didn’t want more than that, and that’s where it all fell apart. you’d screw around for a while, then you’d part ways and wouldn’t speak to each other until next week. you never went to see them play shows, he never texted, you never called, never went on a real date besides meeting in the same bar down the street every thursday night after practice.

he seemed fine with that. you weren’t. and yet every time, you ended up back in his arms.

he groans into your mouth, pushing his hips into you and pinning you harder against the faded leather seats of his old honda. his lips are sloppy but eager, messily pressing his mouth into yours as his fingers tangle in the hair at the base of your neck. you can taste the beer and smoke on his breath, but for some reason it doesn’t bother you. maybe you’re used to it, or maybe it’s just because it’s him. you don’t want to know which reason is the truth.

he kisses you until you’re dizzy, and you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or from the thrill of kissing him once again. it’s a high you’re convinced you’ll never get tired of, although you’re not quite sure yet if it’s one that he will.

hansol always lets you set the pace, but tonight he can’t seem to keep his hands to himself. both of your shirts met the floor of his car what seems like hours ago, leaving you in just your pants as he makes out with you as if it’s the first and last time he’ll get that chance. his fingers breeze over your waist the same way they breeze over his guitar strings when he plays: careful yet greedy, each touch intentional yet impulsive as he grips your waist.

he drags his fingers higher and it sends a shiver down your spine, arching your hips up against him and rolling your head back against the seat’s headrest. if there’s only one upside to this relationship, it’s that he’s good at this. really good. if he weren’t, then you wouldn’t have spent so many nights letting him fuck you in the parking lot of your shitty local bar. it does something for your confidence knowing that he must feel the same about you, or else he wouldn’t keep inviting you out. at the very least, this arrangement is mutual, even if you wish it wasn’t.

his hips rock against your crotch again, and even through both of your clothes you can feel how hard he is. your mind is clouded, everything’s a haze, and all you can think about is how badly you want him. the warmth of his skin, the gentle scratch of his nails on the back of your neck, his long eyelashes that flutter against your cheek as he kisses you.

you feel your hands slide haphazardly down his bare chest, fumbling over his hips as you tug on the waistband of his jeans. none of it feels graceful, not like the way he handles his music. it’s sloppy, desperate, clumsy, and it’s everything you need right now.

he manages to lean back from you enough to undo his pants and push them down to his knees, but his mouth is back on yours in an instant. somehow you end up on your back across the seats, gazing up at him with slack lips as his thin silver chain dangles over your face. you might not remember a lot of what happens on these nights when you’re with him, but you’ll always remember this moment. him hovering above you with heavily lidded eyes, biting his lip and cursing as he pushes into you, is etched into your mind in a way you simultaneously love and hate. love because it feels so good, hate because it never lasts.

the rest of those nights never stands out in your memory. you remember feeling good, you remember trembling in his arms and gasping and moaning and crying in pleasure, but the images are too fuzzy to make out. you don’t really need to reflect on them anyway; you know he’ll just bring you out next week and do it all over again.

hansol kisses you once more after you’re both finally spent, but the kisses afterwards are always different. more… hesitant, more uncertain. none of the passion and desperation that you’ve come to crave from him. not what you really want.

“i can drive you home,” he offers once he’s finished cleaning you up. for once you think he might genuinely mean it, but you can never be sure enough to take that chance. you want him to drive you home. god, you want him to so bad. to have him come over with you and stay the night, stay another night and another until your apartment isn’t just yours anymore, that’s what you’ve wanted all this time. and it’s what you’ll never have.

“i’ll call an uber,” you answer.

“i’ll wait with you, then.”

the silence that settles over his car is heavy as you climb back into the front passenger seat. you want to tell him to get in the uber with you, stay more than just a couple hours with you in the furthest back corner of the bar parking lot that’s too far to be illuminated by streetlights. you want to argue that he’s too drunk even to drive himself, that he needs to come home with you and sleep it off together in the comfort of your bed, but you know it’s not true and it won’t work. this is a conversation you’ve had many times before. every night you’ve spent with him blurs into the next, always the same.

sometimes you want to laugh at how naive you are, for thinking he’d eventually come to his senses and realize there’s more to you than a good lay before a gig. sometimes you want to grab him and shake him by the shoulders and tell him to grow the fuck up, give him an ultimatum and make him tell you what he wants from you or else put an end to it all. sometimes you just want to cry, to mourn your wasted time when you’re fully aware it’s never going to lead to something more, no matter how badly you want it and how hard you try.

no matter how many times you get your hopes up, no matter how many times you pray and beg and plead with god and the universe and every other higher power to get him to realize this can’t keep going on the way it is forever, nothing ever changes. you’re never going to stop running to him when he calls, and he’s never going to stop calling.

finally another car pulls into the lot, and you manage to pull yourself out of his car. you hear your name behind you and you stumble, swaying on your feet as he rolls down his window.

maybe this time will be different.

he says his usual goodbyes and goodnights, flashing you a loose grin and a wave as his engine sputters to life, and he asks if you’re planning on coming to practice next week.

and you find yourself nodding.

you’re left standing there, your head and your heart pounding, watching his headlights fade as he drives away, until you’ve stood there for so long that your ride starts honking and calling for you to get in the car so you can leave.

maybe next time will be different.

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hyperballart · 1 month

Text

can’t stop thinking about art and patrick sharing a fleshlight

this is kinda like a continuation of this but i imagine them so horny for each other after they finally broke that “platonic” barrier. let’s say it’s been a couple weeks from the events that took place and you’re away to see family for a bit. ever since you mentioned wanting both of them fucking you at once in the same hole they haven’t stopped thinking about it. they can’t stop thinking about both of their cocks rubbing wetly against each other in your hand, how much tighter and hotter your cunt will welcome them. art dreams of it literally, waking up so hard he’s too dizzy to use his hand—opting for humping the mattress like a bitch in heat until he spills into yet another pair of briefs (his laundry trips were becoming more frequent). and well patrick, he has jacked off so much he feels his wrist will break soon, he wants more—needs more than his hand. so he goes to art’s room one night and proposes something.

this is still new to them, still so fresh and they’re learning to navigate this new dynamic but they can’t hide the longing glances at each other’s lips. what started off as a simple conversation rapidly escalated to patrick pouncing on art and licking into his mouth. they’re out of breath when the brunette separates and begins to rasp out, “i need to feel you against me like that again,” art’s eyes are blown out and he whines quietly, “need that needy cock humping me like it did that night—my hand isn’t cutting it anymore.” and art is a good friend, who is he to deny it?

after fishing themselves out of their shorts and jerking each other off for a bit, art pauses and looks up at his friend, “wait, i wanna do something different. wait here.” patrick sits up and waits for his friend to return with a fucking fleshlight of all things in his hand, taking a seat next to him they stare at the toy in awe for a few seconds,“maybe we can pretend it’s her, you know as practice so we don’t blow our loads the first ten seconds we’re in her.” patrick gulps and nods mindlessly, he doesn’t care as long ass he feels art dripping on him again.

they barely use spit, leaking so much it’s enoughto slide right in the toy. art holds it down on patrick at first, he’s mesmerized, “you’re—you’re stretching it out so m-much, fuck me”, patrick’s hips twitch and he whines out a curse. when art starts to slide in next to him he almost cries.

they’re stretching the silicone toy to its limits, they hold still for a minute or two just panting and looking at each other with half lidded eyes. the first movement is caused by an accidental twitch of art, but as soon as they feel that friction again they lose it. patrick moans out your name, “holy fuck man, you don’t even know—she’s got, fuck, she’s got the tightest little pussy, i don’t know how we’ll fit.” art starts mewling with his eyes closed, “i wanna fuck her so bad, want to fuck her with you so bad—hhghhh.”

they just spit out the first things that come to their minds, how they’ll shove their dicks down your mouth at the same time, how your tits look in that tight tank top you love to wear, the one time you bent over in the tennis court to retrieve something and flashed them your pink panties. what really gets both of them is something that surprisingly comes out of art’s mouth, “wanna—wanna take turns. i’ll fuck her on my lap and pass her to yours so you do the same, just using her to jerk off—oh fuck fuck fuck—“

patrick’s balls are drawing tight, he takes notice just now of how they’re bouncing right up against art’s. he can’t believe this, how much precum is dripping down the fleshlight and how hard they’re both starting to fuck up into it. art has a rule of never coming in his toys because they’re a hassle to clean but that all goes out the window when patrick starts to open his mouth again, “i can feel you artie, cum. cum on me i’m so close, fuck, do you hear how wet that fucking sounds?,” art’s eyes start crossing and he lets his friend be the one to move the fake pussy up and down, “we’re gonna come inside her just like this too, i’m gonna make you fucking eat it out of her right after—“ and art can’t make out anything after that. he cums so hard, harder than the last time if that was possible, and his whole body twitches. patrick finishes just at the same time, and when he pulls the toy back up he holds it over both cocks.

they watch the loads of cum spill out and drip down the lenght of them both, red and spent. they really hope you aren’t too upset about them playing without you, after all you taught them how to share <3

#i’d suck everything out of that fleshlight #GAHHHH the image of both of them humping against each other like that😖#artrick smut #artrick x reader #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #art donaldson fic #patrick zweig fic #my writing

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cheriladycl01 · 13 days

Text

My boyfriend the Bad Guy- Oscar Piastri x Teacher! Reader

Plot: Oscar surprises you in a class that you’re covering for on a day before a race weekend.

“Okay guys so Mrs Copani won’t be here for the rest of term, but that means I get to teach you guys all about … the rainforest!” You exclaim to the young children in your class. You were currently covering for a school in your district whose teacher went on maternity leave, it was your first job as a teacher rather than a teaching assistant because you were so young.

“Now, this project will be very fun! We’re going to do lots of arts and crafts and at the end of term Headmaster Kelvin has organised a trip” you tell them excitedly and they all start chatting!

“We’re going to a rainforest!” One of them exclaims.

“My mum says they’re a long way from us!” Another chips in.

“Are we going far for this trip?” Another asks a little confused.

“Okay okay settle down! Now you’ll learn that Chloe is right and that there aren’t any rainforests near us. The closest one would be Africa, and I can’t take you guys all the way there … but in the UK we have a place where they have these biome pods called the Eden Project so we’re going to take you there” you explain and they all nod.

“Okay so let’s start on some facts about the rainforest. Does anyone know anything about the rainforest that they can tell me!” You ask.

“It rains a lot!” Dylan shouts and you nod.

“That’s right! It’s helps that its in the name right? But rainforests have a lot of warm humid rain all year round. 79-394 inches. High for comparison is about the height of a tree!” You exclaim and gaze round seeing the fascinated look on all the kids faces.

That was your favourite part of teaching!

“And when you look at a rainforest … like this one” you say getting up a picture of one of the interactive whiteboard. “What do you see!” You ask looking around the classroom.

“Lots or Green” AJ shouts and everyone agrees.

“Mmmmm that’s very true. And what is all that greenery, some of you might have them in your garden at home! We have some in the gardens here and Miss Y/L/N has a few on her classroom windowsill” you offer helpfully, a girl raises her hand.

“Gabby?”

“Plants Miss!” She squeals and you nod with a smile on your face.

“Very good! Now the rainforest is very important as even though only 10% of earth is made up of rainforests … it has the most plants and animals there which helps us” you smile.

“Why miss?” Connor calls out and you smile.

“The trees around us, even the ones here release something out of them that go into our atmosphere and it turn it helps us breath. That’s why trees are so important and it’s why when we use paper, we always ….” You pause waiting for them to finish your common phrase.

“Recycle it” they all giggle and you nod.

“That’s right!” You smile at them all.

“Okay now when you all have a cold what does you mum and dad give you to make you feel all better?” You ask walking around the room.

“Matt” you say seeing the boys hand raised.

“Medicine!” He cries out in joy.

“Lots of those medicines come from the rainforest, that’s why it’s important we preserve it!” You teach them, you could never be to young to teach about protecting the planet.

“What’s preserve?” One of them asks with their head cocked to the side.

“Hmmmm that’s a difficult word to describe. Okay so let’s pretend you guys are … the Avengers” you grin and they all gasp happily.

“I wanna be Captain America”

“I’ll be Thor”

“I want to be Black Panther”

“I’m Kate Bishop”

“Okay okay you can all be whoever you want! But you guys need to protect the environment from all the bad people out there!” You grin, knowing this was all just a bit of fun but still educating them on what’s important.

“Who are the bad people” one of them asks, just before a knock is heard on the classroom door. You look to the left seeing Oscar there watching you with a soft smile on his face. You hop up from your desk walking over to the door.

“Here is one of the villains you have to defeat” you say as you open the door to your boyfriend.

“He’s a bad guy!” One of the girls ask, and you know you’ve just potentially started her obsession with always crushing on the villains in future movies and books she watch.

“But Miss that’s your boyfriend” they all giggle at this and you grin too, Oscar just standing there confused as to why you’re now all of a sudden calling him a bad guy.

“Mmmm and why am I a bad guy?” He asks looking at you with his polite cat smile.

“Who knows what Oscar does for a living, do any of you like Cars?” You ask and they all gasp.

“Miss miss I know I know!” Ollie cries out.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“He drives race cars!” He says on his knees rocking back and forth.

“He does! And he travels all over the world to do it, meaning he doesn’t help the environment, he does the opposite!” You say knowing just how astronomically high your boyfriends carbon footprint was.

The kids then all started to ask Oscar questions about racing, many of them being Lightening McQueen related.

Eventually it was the end of the school day, Oscar kindly helped you pack up the classroom before leading you out to the car park where his McLaren was parked.

“Thank you for coming to get me baby” you smile and he takes your hand guiding it to the gearstick so he can keep a hold of you while he’s there.

“You’re welcome! How was your first fall day teaching them on your own?” He smiles rubbing his thumb along your hand.

“It was really good, we’re starting a rainforest project and so we’re going to make loads of charts for the board I created and at the end of term we’ve got a trip organised!” You explain and he can’t help but grin at how excited you seem.

“Woah, that’s really cool! Do you still think that you’ll be able to come this weekend?” He asks knowing that where you taught Monday to Thursday you had the perfect opportunity to spend GP weekends with him.

“Of course I am baby, I have my flight booked for Thursday night, I’ll get there Friday Morning” you admit and he smiles bringing your hand up of the gearstick and in front of him mouth. He kisses it lightly.

“So where are we going, this isn’t the way home” you ask once you notice your on a different main road.

“Somewhere Lando showed me, I wanted to take you there. I think you’ll really like it” he explains and you nod.

Eventually you come up to a little park, he takes a rucksack from the boot, taking your hand and walking through the afternoon sun with you to the edge of a large pond, that had a wooden bridge going over the middle of it.

“Wow this is gorgeous” you exclaim looking at the surroundings before taking some pictures. You get one of yours and Oscars feet and then a selfie of you guys with the lake in the background.

“I love this, it’s so peaceful” you breathe out a relaxing breath. You and Oscar walk and talk, both having a busy schedule ment that moments like these you could yap to each others hearts content.

He eventually started to lay out a blanket, it was getting a little cooler as the sun got lower and lower in the spring afternoon.

“I brought some wine, and some cheese and grapes. I know you’ve been wanting to go out for a while with the girls but you haven’t had time… so I brought girls night too you” he smiles sheepishly hating how busy both your lives were individually and with each other. You saw your friends maybe once a month at best, you were very lucky they were so understanding.

“I love you Osc” you say leaning into him, kissing his cheek, a blush forming across his nose.

“I love you too baby” he smiles.

You both sit on the blanket leaning into one another while continuing your previous conversation, and sharing chaste kisses every now and then, tasting the rich one on each others lips.

Intimate and personal time like this with Oscar would always be your favourite.

y/user

Liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

y/user: Oscar surprised me on my first day today and took me out afterwards on a date :) How sweet can he get!

View all comments

oscarpiastri: Love you ❤️

-> y/user: I love you more 🥺🌸❤️

ybff: omg you guys are so cute! Seeing you when?

-> y/user: soon for sure! After class coffee? Mrs Copani has gone for maternity leave so I’ll have this post for a while!

user: Billy raves about his new teacher in class today! Thank you for making it engaging!

-> user: I agree Madison came home with the biggest smile on her face today! Thank you Mrs Y/L/N

Instagram Story Caption:

First day on the job 🌸 Miss Y/L/N

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

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j4desblurbs · 28 days

Note

i needed “kisses on the nose” from the prompt list with logan, like, yesterday

give me my soft man!!

LOVE’S PERFECT ACHE

yes i got the title from a hozier song

summary: logan gets mad at you, and makes it up to you.

warnings: i made this angsty but other than that, no warnings

word count: 1.3k

logan had been acting cold ever since lunch.

curt responses, no petnames, a bit more sarcasm than he would usually use for you. all of these things pointed to something that was your fault.

no matter how much you wracked your brain, you couldn’t think of anything you’d done to make him angry.

it’s not until he walks into your shared room a couple hours later that you find the answer.

“wanna tell me what that was back there?” he says, causing you to look up from your book.

“what?” your eyebrows furrow. what on earth is he talking about?

“with scott. at lunch. talking to him like that?”

you feel like you’ve missed a chapter.

“logan,” you huff out his name with a confused laugh. “what are you talking about?”

“hand on his arm like that? laughing your ass off? what’d he say that was so damn funny, hm?” logan seethes.

you think back to your interaction with scott earlier in the day. it was just like any other time the two of you have spent time together. you weren’t entirely sure what was so alarming about enjoying the company of your friend and teammate.

but then you remembered logan has a temperament, an extreme distaste of scott, and a jealous streak like nobody’s business.

“logan,” you sigh. “it wasn’t like that at all. i was just laughing at a joke he made.”

he scoffs, his tone condescending. “yeah, right.”

you bristle at that. he almost never talks down to you like this. suddenly, a pocket of anger bubbles into your chest. before you know it, you hear yourself saying:

“funny, i never acted like this while you flirted with jean.”

logan stops cold.

“i never flirted with jean.” he says, plain and simple.

you scoff. if there was anything you hated, it was being treated like you were dumb.

“don’t,” you warn. “don’t do that.”

“do what, sugar?” his tone is condescending, demeaning. it brings the beginning of tears to your eyes.

“don’t pretend like i don’t know.” you blink, trying to hold back your tears, but one falls and makes its way down your cheek.

logan falters. he hadn’t meant to make you cry.

“honey-“ he tries, but you brush him off by holding up your hand without another word.

it’s only after you make it to the first empty room you find that you allow yourself to break down. ———————————————————————————

for the rest of the day, logan isolates himself, staying in your room as the hours tick by.

he was never the best at communicating.

by all means, he was trying. he really was, but it was just so goddamn hard sometimes. he could never get the words right and often ended up causing even more damage to whatever situation he’d fucked up in the first place.

he knew you weren’t doing anything with scott, of course he did. but some part of him deep inside couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t enough for you, or someone bad for you. so, when his worst fear was even remotely realized, he lashed out in ugly ways.

logan lets out a sigh. why’d he have to fuck this up? he had never meant to make you cry. it was the last thing he’d ever want. all he’s ever wanted was to give you the love you deserve. to protect you. never to hurt you.

and he couldn’t even do that.

he gets up, putting out his cigar. it was about time he stopped wallowing in his self pity and started looking for you so he could apologize.

he does end up finding you, in a small room off the gym. logan’s heart cracks when he sees you, curled up against the corner, knees to your chest, eyes red.

what had he done?

he says your name, and his chest tightens even more when you visibly bristle at the sound of his voice. the sight’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

logan strides over, kneeling next to you. his hand is warm and strong when he places it on your back, but your body still tenses when you feel his touch.

“have you been here the whole time, bub?” his voice is soft, his familiar scent of tobacco and leather and pine enveloping you and making you almost give in and bury yourself in his arms.

almost.

you give him an almost imperceptible nod of your head, not wanting to speak just yet.

really, you didn’t trust yourself to not burst into tears the second you tried.

he sighs, shifting his position so that he’s in front of you. his hand gently pulls your chin up to make you look at him, his thumb wiping away the tear tracks down your face.

seeing how red your eyes are makes his heart do a slow twist in his chest. he had done this to you. and he wasn’t sure he knew how to fix it.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is quiet, gravelly. “i didn’t mean any of it, honey.”

you finally force yourself to meet his eyes, blinking slowly. he was lying. you knew it, could feel it.

logan rarely said anything he didn’t truly mean.

“i know you did. i know you meant it.” you say, the weak, broken tone of your voice hurting him even more.

“i want to explain. believe me. but i just can’t put what i’m feeling…..together. into words.” logan looks down, his mind racing. he was never good at expressing his feelings, and he was most certainly going to fuck it up if he did it without thinking it out.

“maybe you could try.” your voice, low and cracking slightly from lack of use, breaks him out of his thoughts.

he lets out a soft breath, unsure of how to explain himself. he owes it to you to try. to have what might possibly be the world’s most uncomfortable conversation if it meant that you didn’t loathe him like you did right now. for everything you do for him, it’s the very least he can do for you.

“you mean a lot to me, darlin. a lot more than it might seem. so when i see you talking to another man, happy with another man,” he trails off, a lump forming in his throat. “it hurts me. because every day i doubt that i’m the right one for you. every day i’m terrified that you’ll get tired of me, of us, and leave.”

as he talks, you slowly start to open up, pulling your knees away from your chest and wiping the remnants of your tears away from your face. your hands find his face, cupping his cheeks as you get onto your knees to reach him.

“logan.” your tone is firm. “why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

seeing the man you love, normally so tough and headstrong, almost curl into himself is a strange sight to stomach. logan seems small like this, not because of the way he’s crouched in front of you, but because of the palpability of his fear.

he clears his throat before he speaks, his voice soft. “i didn’t know how to say it.”

his hands come to rest on your waist, pulling you against him into a hug. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, one palm sliding up to rest on your back.

as you reciprocate the hug, you feel the tension melt away from his body, his arms tightening slightly around you as the thought clicks in his head: you still wanted him.

“i’m sorry, baby.” logan whispers into your hair. “i’m so sorry.” he pulls you away from him a little, kissing your forehead, then your cheeks, and finally your nose, resting his forehead against yours afterward.

you close the gap, pressing your lips to his, tasting faintly of tobacco and coffee. he kisses you back with equal gentleness. it’s a sweet, soft kiss that you both melt into.

you relish in the fact that you’ll have many more kisses just like these.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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luveline · 3 months

Note

Hii! How are you?

I love all ur fics especially Hotch and his adult daughter ones. They are just brilliant<3 Can u please write something with Hotch being worried about his daughter as faints or get injured? Thank you!

thank you for requesting! <3 fem, 2k

There are silver-linings to your concussion. Not many, and he’d much prefer you were better, but silver linings all the same.

You, unable to look after yourself with on-again off-again dizziness and shortness of breath, have no choice but to stay at Aaron’s house. (Well, you could’ve stayed home, and he could’ve come to visit you a few times a day while your mother worked, but this is easier on his gas tank and his heart.)

The silver lining is that he actually gets to spend time with you, large swaths of it, and that he gets to see you without your smart formalwear for the first time since you’d met all but four months ago. It will never not be strange to have a daughter and to be her acquaintance, but Aaron feels that this time is perfect to get to know you beyond two hour dinners and texts.

It is admittedly occasionally awkward, but he doesn’t expect it to be easy. He doesn’t need you to pretend that you’re more comfortable with him than you are, or that he’s been there for you as you deserved. He wishes he was, and he can’t forgive your mother for keeping you a secret, but he can understand her reasoning (to some extent), and he can try to give you what you deserve, because it is about you. You’re a young woman who deserves a father and has one now. He’s determined to prove that it isn’t too late.

You curl on the family couch with a new pillow under your head. You wear pyjamas he bought you, socks you’ve borrowed, and a big blanket covers your legs. Jack sits on your feet eating grapes from a bowl.

You look younger without makeup. Aaron can almost see you as a kid.

“You want another grape?” Jack asks you.

“Please, buddy,” you whisper, holding out your hand.

You’re trying not to talk or move too much, as movement hurts your nose, which was broken. Aaron still can’t believe someone hurt you —you were assaulted in the subway during a city riot and passed out as result, where you hit your head, and ended up where you are now with post concussive syndrome.

A bad fall can do such great harm, he can’t imagine how awful it would’ve been to have met you and had you stolen from him that swiftly. He’s a lucky man.

Aaron almost hadn’t answered when you called, about to change into Kevlar and prepare the BAU for an anti-terroism strike that Strauss shoved into their laps. He’d smiled briefly at your contact photo and thought of the phone call he’d have with you later to apologise for missing the first, but then he got a strange feeling. What could it hurt for him to make sure you weren’t in the centre of it?

“Do you want water?” Jack asks.

You hold out your hand again, searching for Jack’s. You find it and give his fingers a squeeze. “No thank you. You don’t have to worry about me, I just want you to watch your movie.”

“I’ve seen it a hundred– hundred times,” he says, taking his hand back to eat another grape. After a moment, he lays his cheek against your legs where you have them bunched up.

“Don’t choke on your grapes,” you say.

“Don’t worry,” he says.

You laugh quietly. “I won’t.”

Aaron closes his laptop, having failed to work from home in the armchair beside you both. He might need some help to get back to a functioning place when he returns to the office, but his hands itch with a different need today. He checks his watch.

“Time for another dose, if you want it?” he asks you.

“Please.”

It’s only anti-nausea and painkillers, but you’re quite dependent on them. He’s staying on top of them, because on your second morning here, you’d woken up and forgotten the anti-nausea. Being sick with a broken nose is agony. He doesn’t wanna see you crying again. (Though again, that had made you closer. To get to rub your back, and promise it wasn’t too disgusting, he could deal with it no problem.)

Haley hums in the kitchen. She’s happy to have her way, which is to have him home, if vaguely bitter that it’s for you. He understands her annoyance, but it’s different. If Jack were attacked and recovering, of course Aaron would be home with him, as he’s home with you, but he won’t stay home for much less and lately, it's been a point of great contention between them.

Still, she’s a good woman who looks after everyone the best that she can. Your pills are waiting on the counter with a glass of apple juice and a muffin, and your laundry is being folded from the dyer next to Jack’s.

Aaron ushers her in for a grateful hug, a kiss pressed to her soft cheek. “Thank you, honey.”

“You’re welcome. She shouldn’t take so much tylenol when she’s barely eating. You’re gonna have to convince her.”

“I will. I was thinking I’d make soup. You know, my mom’s split pea. What do you think?”

“Does she like split pea soup?”

“I don’t know.”

“Just ask, Aaron,” she says, not without sympathy.

“I was going to.”

Haley gives a long sigh. “I’m sorry.”

He rubs her arm. They’ve been very far apart lately, so far that he’s wondered if they’re not going to make it work, but for today they seem back in sync.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says.

“No, I am. I know it’s impossible, but I keep imagining how I would feel if it happened to me.” She wipes lint or maybe nothing from his collar. “What if I had a baby out there and I knew nothing about her? It’s not… not fair on either of you.”

“Worse things have happened, Hale.” Because it really is awful, but he doesn’t need anyone to feel sorry for him. You, yes. Poor girl, your poor nose. Aaron gives Haley a quick kiss. “We’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it, hm?”

“Okay, honey. Well, find out what she wants for dinner.”

“I’m gonna make it.”

“I can make it.” She moves back to her pile of laundry. “I don’t have much to do, with you home. It’s nice.”

He winces, grabbing your pills, your juice, and the muffin. Aaron has no qualms sharing duties, but he can’t have this conversation again. Of course it’s nice to be home, that’s not the issue.

You and Jack are exactly where he left you eating grapes and watching TV, but you’ve shifted upward a little to make more room for him, the blanket now over his legs.

“Are you looking after your big sister?” Aaron asks. He can’t help himself.

Jack grins at him. “Yeah, dad. We need more grapes.”

“Yeah?” Aaron walks around the couch to pass you the few pills into your hand. He crouches in front of you. It hasn’t stopped feeling alien, suddenly having two kids, but it has started to feel right. “It’s dinner time soon, Jack, can you wait? I don’t want you to have a full tummy.”

“What’s for dinner?” he asks.

Aaron passes you the glass of juice for you to wash down the pills. “I was thinking we’d let Y/N choose…” He taps your knee gently. “Do you have a craving for anything?”

“I can’t choose,” you say.

His hand turns to cup your knee, hoping it isn’t too much. “Sure you can. Jack chooses dinner all the time.”

“I’ll eat whatever.”

“You’ve barely eaten all day, isn’t there something you love? Something soft?”

You look like him when you’re not happy. Unsure, you look to Jack. “Can’t Jack pick, please?”

“It’s your turn,” Jack says.

Aaron puts the muffin he’d been given for you on your knee. “Honey, just think about it. There’s no rush. You and Jack can live off grapes for the rest of the night.”

“Mean,” you murmur.

Jack slips off of the couch with his bowl. He makes for the kitchen, his wobbly declarations of love cute and ringing when he sees his mom. “Hi, mommy. You’re pretty. Can I have grapes?”

“Hi baby.”

You smile, fingertip playing with the muffin’s paper casing. “He’s so lovely.”

“I know.”

“It’s okay, right?”

Aaron holds your gaze. Not commanding, but listening intently. “What’s okay?”

“For us to– you know. To cuddle.”

“Yes, it’s okay. Jack makes his own mind up about things, and if he wants to cuddle with you, he will. If you don’t want him to cuddle, you can ask him for space.”

“It’s strange,” you say, laying your face against your pillow, muffin ignored, “to have a brother now.”

“Bad strange?” he asks.

You smile. Almost hopeful. “No.”

Aaron does know what you’re thinking. He has four months of evidence on your behaviour, and you aren’t dishonest, so he believes his frame of reference to be correct. Right now, you’re feeling unwell, maybe the pain in your face is flaring or your concussion is giving you grief, but you seem to already love your little brother. If not love, then to be very fond of him. You have similar feelings about Aaron, but you’re shy about showing it.

He understands that you might not feel very close to him so soon, he understands that you’re practically still strangers, but he loves you. Maybe it’s something innate in being your father, but he really does love you.

It’s like being passed your baby —you don’t know your baby, they’re a baby, but you love them. Aaron doesn’t know if you like vegetable soup more than French onion, if you like buttered bread or a dinner roll or toasted baguette on the side, but he’ll learn.

“I’ll make you anything you want for dinner,” he says softly, looking for your hand in the blankets, and taking it with similar care. “You just have to tell me what you like.”

You look down at his hand.

“Sorry for making things difficult.”

“You’re not making anything difficult.” His thumb rubs your hand of its own accord. “You aren’t difficult. You’re remarkably easy to look after.”

“Thank you.”

“If you could just pick what you wanted for dinner…”

You both laugh at one another, and you wince at the soreness in your nose. Aaron stands from his crouch with aching legs to pat you on the shoulder.

“I’ll figure something out,” he says. “I’m a good guess, usually.”

“Okay. Thank you, Aaron,” you say, resting with a sore squint back against your nest.

In the kitchen, Jack sits in Haley’s lap, his bowl filled again with more grapes. She’s chewing on one when he comes back. “Hey, did she decide?”

“Not yet. I’m working on it.”

“Well, we have time.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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mrpenguinpants · 2 years

Text

Look, but don't touch. [ Harbinger Edition ]

— You're the only one who's allowed to touch him. Likewise, he's the only one that's allowed to touch you.

— Childe, Pantalone, Scaramouche, and Dottore

[Masterlist]

This is written before the Sumeru quest. Harbingers are their own warning.

This was a fever dream, incredibly self-indulgent, don't talk to me about this ok. Honestly don't even wanna tag people in this (´。＿。｀)

Tartaglia

Childe is friendly but he always keeps himself at arm's distance from anyone who isn't his family. The kind of guy that acts like he loves everyone but he truly doesn't like anyone. Always polite but never kind. He won't be outwardly hostile if one of the cicin mages decides she wants to try her luck and cuddle up to him, he sort of admires her bravery, but the hardened stare and indifferent response are awkward enough for anyone to bail halfway.

So what a surprise to everyone when it's Childe himself that pulls you into him. It's not a friendly hug either, he quite literally drags you into his embrace as soon as he sees you, locks his arms around your waist, and spins you around. Before he catches himself and gently settles you down and pretends as if he didn't boldly announce to everyone that you're special.

He is a harbinger at the end of the day so any intimate relationships he has need to be hidden lest he puts you in danger. That said, he doesn't do a very good job. He gets agitated and fidgety if he can't hold you, longing gazes in your direction even if someone else is speaking to him about something important. Whether it's shooing specks of dust off your shoulder, a tap on the arm, or the brief brush of your fingers against his whenever he hands something to you. He always finds some way to touch you.

It's always the worst and best time to speak with Childe if you happen to be there. On the upside, Childe is more likely to give his approval to whatever his subordinates ask just so they go away and leave you both alone. On the downside, because physical touch somehow makes Childe drowsy and almost drunk, he's useless.

It wasn't always like this. During your first months as something more than friends, not quite lovers, he kept you at an arm's distance just like everyone else. Only the occasional arm over your shoulder or a hand on the small of your back, just enough to show you that you meant something to him. But over time, those touches began to linger until the dynamic shifted and he began to rely on your touches to keep him sated. On particularly stressful days, he'll pull you aside into his office with a rushed excuse to just hold you in his lap. He's recharging, don't make tease him.

But he's not a selfish lover. If you need comfort or just want to be held, he'll gladly throw his plans out the window just to spend time with you. What's wrong? Did someone upset you? Want me to take care of them? He'll offer anything to make you feel better while you're cuddled up to him and it makes his heart flutter when you say you just want to stay beside him. He has a bad habit of resting his entire weight on top of you if you're both ever lying down. All that muscle is heavy but sometimes it's comfortable until his elbow accidentally digs into your side.

Childe can be polite if someone else wants to touch him but he's baring his teeth at anyone that has the audacity to place their hands on you. If someone bumps into you? He's fine, accidents happen. Someone moves you to the side? Whatever he won't throw a fit over that. He believes in the below-the-shoulder, above-the-waist, hands not included, rule. If anyone touches you, it's the only time when Childe will throw his reputation out the window.

Scaramouche likes to compare him to a dog and he'll gladly growl and bark if that's what it takes for people to get the hint and leave you alone. He'll slide his arms around your waist, tilt your chin up, and without any concern about the scene that this will cause, kisses you deeply. All the while sending the nastiest glare to the person that touched you. Look, don't touch. You're his.

Childe likes to believe that he has self-restraint. He's a soldier first and foremost so he has discipline beaten into his bones. But right now he's close to snapping the pen in his hands and hurling it into that bastard's forehead. He can feel Ekaterina's concerned gaze on him, shifting on her feet nervously, as she struggles to push through her explanation of his assignment quickly. Unfortunately, it's all white noise to Childe as all of his attention is on the cicin mage whose being a bit too friendly for his liking.

"Lord Tartaglia?"

Of course, you don't blink twice at it. He's seen how that loud electro pirate dotes on you and is overly physically affectionate herself. Maybe he should also fight her as well after he's done dealing with this cicin mage.

"Childe?" Ekaterina tries one last time, using a more familiar name to see if that would catch her superior's attention but alas, he was too busy glaring daggers into her college. Ekaterina raises a hand to lightly tap on her superior's shoulder to get his attention but just as her fingertips brush against the fabric of his uniform, Childe's death glare is directed at her. She flinches away from the otherwise easy-going Childe, her mask doing little to hide her startled expression.

"Sorry, sorry, not meant for you," Childe blinks away the hate from his ocean eyes, coming to his senses as he runs a hand through his hair, "What were you saying?"

"There is no need to apologize, Lord Tartaglia, I overstepped," Ekaterina, bless her heart, waves off the sudden aggression but takes a step back. Before she can continue, she overhears you saying goodbye to the mage and your footsteps coming closer. A small surprised noise escapes your chest as Childe pulls you into his arms immediately. If she didn't know Childe, she could almost say his expression was a bit cute with how pouty he was being. Although the look in his eyes says otherwise now that she was just on the receiving end. This seems to be a common occurrence because you just giggle and hug him back just as tightly.

"Please don't harm her. She was just being nice," you mumble into his chest.

"I'll think about it," he says, his eyes never leaving the mage.

Pantalone

On the one hand, the banker always carries this prestige that makes most people stay away in awe. No one wants to get on the wrong side of the man who basically funds the country of Snezhnaya. On the other hand, Pantalone has an ethereal beauty that compels people to come closer and touch. To see if the porcelain skin is real, feel if he's muscular or lean under the heavy fabric, or sneak a peek at what colour the banker's eyes are. It makes you kind of giddy knowing that this man belongs to you. That you know the answer to all these speculations.

You aren't sure when it started happening but at some point, he always ends up sort of mindlessly touching him. Placing a hand on his arm or knee, running your fingers through his hair, or gently rubbing away the stress from his shoulders. There wasn't an ulterior motive, Pantalone was just too handsome that you can't help but touch him just to make sure he's real. He thought you were overexaggerating a bit but he seemed deeply pleased at your confession since it was coming from you personally. That egotistical bastard.

But he always reciprocated your touch. Offering an arm for you to hold onto, brushing the hair out of your face, or rubbing small circles into your hand. Small gestures of affection would occasionally lead to more. The fact that Pantalone of all people let you be this close was something you secretly prided in yourself. You couldn't help but rub his newfound privilege in front of anyone that got too close that this elegant man was yours to hold. Look all you want but you're the only one that gets to touch.

You weren't aware of Pantalone's level of aversion to touch until he almost caused a scene at a gathering. It was meant more for looks and reputation, the occasional business talk, but overall a lax evening. One of the ladies thought it would be a good gesture to place her hand against Pantalone's arm. A bit flirty but innocent enough that the sheer disdain that swirled in Pantalone's eyes made her flinch away surprised. He struck her hand away, the sound carrying through the now-silent ballroom as everyone turned to the sound. You were surprised as well that Pantalone of all people, the image of control and ever-smiling, lips turned down into a repulsed scowl. Your feet quickly moved over to him, quietly excusing the woman for her careless act, and ushering her away before anything escalated. No one spoke of that night.

Ever since then you've always kept your hands firmly glued to your sides lest you feel his anger. If you happened to brush against his finger you would splutter out apologies and scamper away. If you felt his hand hover near you, you always assumed you were in the way and quickly moved aside for him. Overall, you acted as if it was you that was uncomfortable with touch. With each passing day that you fled from his hand, the crease in Pantalone's frown grew deeper.

It comes to a head one night when you get to see how Pantalone's aversion to touch applies to you as well. Occasionally some wealthy noble will host a gala and as one of the Tsaritsa Harbingers, Pantalone will be required to be present for at least one of them. Given his status, most of the attendees flock over to him which leaves poor you to meander about and find something to do with the time. Despite being his lover, you're not privy to what goes on with his work and frankly, the business talk and parties bore you. At least these places have food.

He sees you conversing with a man he knows is from Liyue, hoping to find more investors and trade partners here in Snezhnaya. He's already spoken to the man and rejected his offer so that's most likely why he's speaking to you, the banker's partner to garner sympathy. Although from the looks of things, you don't seem that impressed either. You notice his stare, perhaps his expression betrays him because your eyes grow concerned before giving a polite bow and turning to walk away and to him. If that was all then perhaps tonight wouldn't have ended so badly.

The man grabs your arm painfully enough for you to whimper and that's all Pantalone needs. He doesn't even try to hide his expression behind a smile, his lips set into a straight line. He grabs the man's arm tightly, the leather of his gloves crinkling from the force, and he nearly breaks the man's arm. How dare this inferior social climber put his filthy hands on you. You have to plead with him to let the man go, desperately trying to pry his grip away as the businessman begs the Harbinger on his knees that he didn't know.

Pantalone-

Pantalone is pissed.

You've never seen him this angry before. The lady all those nights ago doesn't even compare close to the anger radiating off him. His fingers flex still as he leads you away into an isolated hallway. You're not even sure if he knows where he's going, completely blindsided by rage. So you quickly step closer and throw your arms around him, stopping him in his tracks as you bury your face into the soft fabric of his suit.

"It's okay. I'm okay," you whisper softly into his back. You're not afraid, he won't get angry, not with you. Never with you. But it still pains you to see him this way. You feel more than you hear his deep sigh before slowly turning around and taking you into his arms. "Thank you. I didn't mean to start anything, you just looked displeased and I got worried. Oh, I'm sorry-"

You quickly move to shuffle out of Pantalone's hold but you can barely get two steps back before his touch grows firm and you're trapped. Despite how strong his hold is, he gently tilts your chin up so you can look into his pretty eyes. He really does have a nice eye colour you think in the back of your mind.

"You've been avoiding me. Care to enlighten me as to why that's the case? Did someone feed your mind with little lies?" Pantalone sounds coy but you can hear the undertone of worry. As if he's done something wrong which you quickly shake your head to.

"W-Well, that incident with the lady from a few weeks ago, the one in the red and black dress, you looked really angry when she touched you so..." you trailed off as your eyes look at anywhere that isn't the man in front of you, nervously twisting the cuff of your sleeve. When you actually hear it back it does sound a bit ridiculous to believe that but you just didn't want to make him uncomfortable. Or make him act a certain way just because you liked physical touch or to uphold appearances.

"And you thought you were comparable to people like that? That I would allow special treatment just because you were mine? That I would reciprocate to anyone but you?"

You fumble a bit at how honest his words are, searching for some way to justify yourself but at the end of the day, you'll knock your head against the wall for how stupid your logic is. So you stand on your tip toes and reach hesitantly up towards his face. Pantalone's face reminds neutral but he slowly leans into his touch, his muscles finally relaxing just by your touch.

Scaramouche

How the hell he tolerates you is anyone's guess. How the hell you tolerate him is Celestia's guess. He has the worst attitude, is quick to anger, flaunts his authority wherever he goes, and is overall a terrible person to be around. Yet every time he looks over his shoulder, you're always one step away from kicking at his heels. Which you have accidentally done before and somehow survived so he must like you a smidge. You tell him it's because it's out of spite that you're still here and spite is a powerful feeling. He of all people should know.

Scaramouche despises anyone being within his personal space, which is already a pretty big range, so the idea of someone touching him is repulsive to him. If he somehow was in danger and someone touched him in order to save his life, he would probably throw a fit and shock them. Their only reward is that he doesn't kill them. It's not like he has to worry too much, no one really wants to be in his presence longer than they have to and any admirers are quickly turned off within the first couple of seconds. Which makes it all the more baffling that you still hang around him and test just how far you can poke his limits.

The first time you touched him was by accident. Someone had bumped into you causing you to fall into Scaramouche. Luckily for you, you managed to put your hands out first and brace yourself against the wall but you had successfully caged the Balladeer between your arms. If you weren't currently fearing for your life you might have laughed at the horrified expression on the Harbinger's face. The only reason you survived that day was that Tartaglia chose that exact moment to waltz in and frankly, he was a far bigger headache than you were.

He's not sure how you managed to worm your warm into his cold non-existent heart but at some point, he got used to your presence in his life. A few words to take care of himself, extra paperwork being filled, or shooing away other soldiers so he could have space. All of these acts of kindness were met with half-baked insults and suspicious looks. Every time he asked you why the hell you were acting like he was some helpless doll you always answered the same, you just felt like it and he looked like he kinda needed it. Which was so baffling to him that you managed to walk away with your head intact.

It started off with small things. Like you're both feral cats that are trying to co-exist in the same alleyway. You always announce your presence, give him enough time to leave, and your touch is barely there. You never do anything close to intimate, never hold his hand or hold his face, and he never reciprocates ever. Although it speaks volumes when he doesn't push you away ever. You're always nearby, sitting close, and you both exist contently.

But just like a feral cat, with enough time and love, even they will begin to grow comfortable and domesticated. The look on his subordinate's face was hilarious when little old you waltzed over to the sixth harbinger, plopped down into his personal space, and literally sprawled yourself over his lap to see what he was looking at. Just to one-up the absurdness, Scaramouche didn't seem bothered in the slightest, only calling you an idiot for not being able to read the document that was right in his hands.

Although there are some downsides to being so close to Scaramouche. He's possessive with the power the enforce his pride. You have to constantly scold him that he can't go frying anyone that comes within two feet of you. It's hardly efficient and it's annoying having to scream just to know what time it is.

The you from years ago would have balked at how casual you were speaking with the infamous Balladeer.

"All I'm saying is you sound like a possessive maniac," you huff, your arms crossing over your chest as you frown down at the sitting man. You doubt he's even paying attention to you because if he isn't throwing spite around then he's filtering you out of his mind. Scaramouche barely acknowledges your words, still fiddling around with the Electro Archon's gnosis. It gives off faint sparks of electro every time he rolls it over his fingers but he doesn't give any signs of pain. Maybe because he's an electro-user? Either way, he's obviously not listening to you. You let out a loud sigh before shrugging and turning on your heel to walk back into the camp. Suddenly, his hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist and he's yanking you down. The you from years ago would have fainted seeing you sprawled over your superior's lap. As your vision tilts to the sky you can't help but think that for such a small body, he sure has a lot of strength. He wears a bored expression, his other hand is cradling his head while his elbow is on his knee, before a nasty smirk makes its way over his face.

"Yeah? So what?" Scaramouch says, his hand stopping to firmly hold the gnosis, though now one of his hands is now settled on your hip. You blink. Huh, you...weren't exactly expecting the ever-prideful Balladeer to blatantly admit that.

"Well, the "what" is that it makes it incredibly inconvenient to talk to anyone. Everyone avoids me like the plague because their scared you're doing to kick down their door and attack them," you pout, grumpily adjusting your head to lay on his knee, "Also you need to eat more. You make a horrible headrest."

"That's fine. You won't need anyone else," he says dismissively.

You open your mouth to say something but the look in his eyes makes you falter. He's serious. A mixture of a past memory, the present moment of you both together, and a far-off dream all dance in his eyes. It's a look you've never seen before on Scaramouche's face despite how long you've worked under him and you can't help but be mesmerized by it. It's likely the first and last time you'll ever see him be honest. But it's quickly over as his eyes morph into snarky glee, his lips pulling into a mean grin.

"You look stupid."

Il Dottore

People are downright terrified to even be in the same room as the infamous doctor. There's never a safe moment and anyone could be the next test subject depending on his mood. It doesn't matter who it is, even his own segments, if someone touches him that means they've just volunteered to be his next experiment. It's suffocating when Dottore is out and not locked in his lab because everyone need's to be hyperaware of where the doctor is located in the room. So to say that Dottore tolerates you is a massive understatement.

He actually quite likes to parade you around, almost like you're his newest addition to his collection. Touch isn't a problem for him if he's the one initiating it given how often he's dragging you around like you're some pet. He's not gentle in the slightest, nearly pulling your arm out in his crazed rush to show you his newest creation. You would joke and say that in moments like these, he's the one that acts like the pet. Too excited to show its owner its newest achievements. But you have a sliver of sanity in your mind so you keep your mouth shut.

Every moment with Dottore is a warped sense of time. You've been with the Doctor for a long time, before he became a Harbinger, and you don't know how your relationship progressed to this stage. You're walking on a tightrope of old colleges that are too intertwined with history to be separated or co-dependent individuals that need death to finally leave each other. So when he touches you softly, affectionally, you stumble and fall off your rope. The mad doctor laughing from above, arms still outstretched from where he's pushed you.

Half of it is madness, and half of it is out of genuine love. Although, to Dottore, madness and love are the same things. His acts of affection are spontaneous and equally as fleeting. One second he's rattling off medical terms and theories, pauses in his rant just to give you a deep kiss no matter who's around you to witness the act, and proceeds as if nothing happens. That's not to say you don't enjoy it when he decides to reward you, you just wished it wasn't in front of so many people. You suspect he does it on purpose.

There's no softness or quiet time aside from the very very few and far between moments Dottore decides to indulge you. He's a busy man, his mind only built for progress, and he has better things to do than to play pretend. But for you, the one who forcibly carved space into his heart, he can make arrangements. Only for a short while. Some days he may hold you as if you'll shatter if he squeezes any harder, other days he'll push your hair away from your eyes quietly, and one day he kisses you as if you're something more.

Unlike Dottore, you don't have an intimidating reputation. People can touch you if they want to. It makes you a bit happy when Childe will pat you on the back or ruffle your hair cheekily. He's also one of the few who can get away with it as well since Dottore can't physically harm him for touching you since he's a fellow Harbinger. Besides, people speak with their eyes more. Since that doesn't qualify as anyone touching you, Dottore won't do anything. So they stare.

They stare at how the Harbinger holds you in a special place. You aren't remarkable, you're the same as the rest of them. Yet you're untouchable and invincible from the man who can change their entire lives. Mistakes occur frequently when Dottore is in the room, the slip of a finger because everyone is too focused on staying out of the Doctor's way. You get to stand beside someone like that.

It's been a hard day. A very hard day. You're absolutely exhausted and ready to curl up into a ball as soon as you get to your room. You aren't even sure what exactly happened. One second you were doing your job and the next your head was on the ground with a pulsing pain on your right cheek. It's not unusual for patients to lash out but under those circumstances, they don't have anything to do with you intimately. You know what people think about your relationship with Dottore. What people who only glimpse into the relationship you have with him think. Usually, they stay silent, only judging you with their eyes but always silent. That is until nearly 10 minutes ago.

"You're late."

You barely react when you hear his voice. Of course, it's him. God, what bad timing. He's the last person you want to see right now, especially in this state. You only give him a nod and mumbled out apologies, stumbling over your feet like a newborn lamb when his hand latches onto your wrist to drag you off again. You think you might have his fingerprints as bruises now. Another thing people can mistakenly think about your relationship. You only know you're crying when you hear the splatter of your tears against the tiled floors and Dottore's footsteps come to a halt. His grip on you has gotten tighter.

You're startled out of your wallowing when warm hands cup your face, brushing your tears away. His gloves are off. When did he take them off? Dottore simply looks at you as you silently cry. You're too tired to apologize, too tired to break down in sobs. Your arms hang uselessly at your sides but you close your eyes and lean into his touch.

"Give me their name."

He whispers it softly. You think back at the girl that struck you. You think she's new, she has to be. You know that if you say her name, you won't see her tomorrow. But you're too tired right now. So with no hesitation, you volunteer her to become the next test subject.

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girllblogging777 · 1 month

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𝐼𝑅𝐼𝑆 — 𝑀𝐴𝑇𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑂 𝑅𝐼𝐷𝐷𝐿𝐸

↳ short mattheo riddle drabble based off the song “iris” by the goo goo dolls.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

and i’d give up forever to touch you

cause i know that you feel me somehow,

mattheo riddle never let himself feel anything other than hatred, until you came into his life. before you, he was just numb, nothing that pure rage and darkness. but with you, everything changed. he didn't need words or grand gestures, just being near you was enough to make him feel...something. it was like, for the first time, someone actually saw him. and the first time you touched him, when he let his guard down and let you in, something deep inside him shifted. you buried your face in his chest, and he froze, not knowing what to do. the only touch he’d ever known was violent and cruel, so he didn't know how to handle the soft, soothing way you held him. but once he gave in and wrapped his arms around you, he knew he’d give up everything for just one more second of this.

✩✩✩✩

you’re the closest to heaven that i’ll ever be

and i don’t wanna go home right now

everyone else saw mattheo as nothing but trouble, like he was born bad. darkness seemed to follow him everywhere, and he figured that was just how it was supposed to be. hell had probably been his destiny from the moment he was born. but then you came along. you, with your golden heart and warm soul, gave him a taste of something pure, something he knew he didn’t deserve. somehow, he had found his way into your life, into your heart, and for the first time ever, he understood what “home” meant. he never had a real home before, no place or person to run back to. but now, you were becoming that for him. his safe place, his shelter.

✩✩✩✩

and all i can taste is this moment

and all i can breathe is your life

and sooner or later it’s over

i just don’t wanna miss you tonight

mattheo wasn’t stupid. letting you in gave him hope, but deep down, he knew the truth. no matter how much he tried, he’d never be good enough for you. the connection you shared felt like a temporary dream, something that could disappear at any second. he promised himself he wouldn’t let anyone see him weak, but you made that impossible. the closer he got to you, the more he feared what would happen when it all fell apart. that’s just how he was, doubting everything, second-guessing every feeling. because he’d always been broken, and he couldn’t imagine anyone seeing past that. but with you, he wanted to try, even if it meant risking everything. because he found himself missing you everytime you weren’t around.

✩✩✩✩

and i don’t want the world to see me

cause i don’t think that they’d understand

when everything’s made to be broken

i just want you to know who i am

mattheo never cared about what the world thought of him. everyone saw him as ruined, a lost cause. they couldn’t understand the storm inside him, the pieces that never fit together quite right. he knew he was broken, and he had grown to accept that. but you saw through the cracks, past the sharp edges, and somehow, you still wanted to know him. he didn’t want to hide from you, didn’t want to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, but he didn’t understand why you stuck with him even after seeing his dark side. for the first time, he wanted to be seen. not as the person everyone else thought he was, but as the person he really was, deep down. he just wanted you to know him, the real him, the one who was scared, vulnerable, and maybe even a little bit hopeful. because in a world full of chaos and brokenness, you made him feel like he could be someone else, just for a moment.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : i thought about this after making the moodboard the other day, iris is literally the theme song of my life and i listen to it 24/7. anyways my requests are open, please like/comment/reblog and tell me if you wanna be tagged !!!

@iris-qt @tateshifts @myunperfektstorys @yikesitslush @sp7-mr @shiftingwithmars @redeemingvillains @helendeath @larmesdevanille @fluffycookies22 @reys-letters @mattheosdior @sylviaonyx @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @jolly4holly @elsie-bells @bellatrix-lestrange5 @icantkeepmyplantsalive @dexoq

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allophonicmess · 2 months

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Too Sweet

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

Act 3

Warnings: spoilers for Deadpool & Wolverine

This is a fluff chapter. Gotta give you guys some candy after all that angst

Word count 4.1 K

Life resumed as normal after that. Or as normal as it could be when you are suddenly placed in the new timeline. Logan kept getting confused by little details that were different to the life he had lived before. Professor X ? Sure he exists but he had hair. Cyclops? Oh yeah. He was just as annoying as he remembered. Who are the fucking Avengers and what sort of rich nerd was Tony Stark? And what about Jean?

“A hot red head with the telekinetic powers?” Wade hummed, pretending to be lost in thought. “Uh, no. UNLESS! Charles used to have a beautiful flowing mane that I don’t know about. He is turning grey, you know… but it suits him. Silver fox”

So Jean was out of the picture. That was good, right?

Logan groaned at Wade's bad joke. He shifted his focus outside, watching the landscape change from looming tall skyscrapers to even fields and trees that started changing colour with the season. It reminded him of home.

“Just to get this straight.” Logan shifted in his seat. The car that Wade had bought from the dealership had been heavily discounted and Logan now understood why. You would think it can’t get worse than the Odyssey? Oh boy, were you wrong. It was too small for 4 people, let alone 2 mutant men. He already felt sorry for whoever might have to sit in the back for whatever reason.

“Y/N has powers?” Logan asked, trying to play it cool. The whole drive had been a big Q&A.

“Yup,” Wade said with a pop. One hand on the steering wheel and the rest of him laid back in his seat.

“They call her Osmium, too?” Logan didn’t like this dependency on the wanna-be hero. But he had to make a good first impression.

“Osmimimum? Uh no. She is called Atom” Wade laughed “Don’t if she actually does stuff with atoms… It's more like…” Wade groaned as he tried to think of an example.

“She manipulates density.” Logan pointed out. They had trained together many times. But Y/n was never allowed to use her full potential with the X-men. They condemned violence and so she was often left out on mission and focused on keeping the school running.

“Ugh- I guess? She once told me in great, boring detail why ‘Atom’ is a bad superhero name for her but they kept it for the marketability. “ He shrugged “Oh! I remember that one time we stopped a child-mutant trafficking and she got mad, like REAL MAD, and then she turned this one guy into goop.” Wade nodded fondly, thinking back at that moment. “And I mean like Nickelodeon kids choice award goop, like slurpable slushy goo, like-“

“Okay, alright! I get it.” Logan groaned in annoyance. Shaking his head at Wade. He was thankful for the man’s support and friendship but god was he annoying. Constantly.

“I wish she would do that to me sometime. It’s on my ways-to-die bingo. But she keeps refusing!” Deadpool hit the wheel dramatically.

“You are disgusting,” Logan stated dryly. “The most disgusting person I ever met.”

“Don’t forget the most annoying!”

...

The decision to go back to teaching was not made out of fun or for the joy of doing it. Maybe partially, even though Logan would not openly confess so. It was made out of necessity. Living with Wade and Al became tiresome after the first few weeks. It was always the same antiques, the lack of schedule as well as a constant state of chaos that made him crave the ordered life at the school once again. He hoped that it would give him a sense of belonging. The X-men might be different here, with a few quips and details that didn’t match with his reality. But living at the school would tie him to a strict schedule and by god, he needed some structure in his life.

But all in all, it meant home.

“Okay, peanut. Today is a big day. But I know you’ll do great and meet a lot of new friends.” Wade joked in a motherly tone as they arrived at the Mansion. “And no hair pulling or biting unless they ask for it, okay?”

“I can’t wait to be rid of you” Logan groaned as the car came to a halt. He exited the car with a low groan, stretching to lose stiffed muscles. Not having to constantly ride in Wade's joke of a car was another reason that he preferred living at Xavier’s Institution. Speaking off:

“There you are. Welcome, welcome.” Xavier rolled into the mansions yard.

“A pleasure to have you, Logan. I must say, I was very pleasantly surprised when I received your response to my inquiry.” He moved towards Logan, offering his hand for a handshake.

Logan inspected the man. He was older, in his 40s maybe. But younger than the Charles Xavier he had worked with. He sported shaggy longer hair that was starting to thin out. Soon he would need to get it trimmed to keep his professional exterior. Along with a beard that was rather spotty and seemed too reminisce of his look in the 70s. Xavier looked like a mix of the two versions that Logan got to meet during his time at the school and it made him wonder how time worked here. Events seemed to play out in different order, they didn’t happen at all or much later than seemed correct.

He shook Xavier’s hand, thanking him for the offer. “Of course. I was surprised when you contacted me.” Logan confessed. His gaze shifted towards the grand building in front of him. It was the same old English style build that he knew, with a few modern elements added here and there.

“Is it familiar to you? The school? I assume you have experienced quite a few dejá-vus since arriving here.” Charles observed Logan.

“I do. Some things are the same. Others don’t match what I know or didn’t happen at all.” He confessed. Already feeling the brother connection build, similar to the one he had with the other Charles.

“You will find your answers. I am sure of it.” Charles turned around motioning Logan to follow him inside. “I think it is best if we continue this conversation in my office.” He looked over his shoulder at Wade, who had waited in the car, listening in on the conversation.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be on my way. You call me if you need to get picked up, Pookie!” He waved at Logan in a motherly way.

“You aren’t coming?” He asked, somewhat confused. But then he saw Charle’s face, the intense stare he gave Wade.

“Uhhh, no I technically have a house ban for no apparent reason-“

“You burned down the west wing” Charles answered dryly.

Wade clicked his tongue, “Right, okay. Yeah… But! It’s very modern now.” He chuckled weakly. “You’ll still call me up for a mission, right?” He tried to persuade the professor.

“If the mission takes place outside of my building then yes.” Charles agreed, focusing back on Logan. And leading him inside. Neither of them commented on the cheer that Wade gave as he drove off.

Being back at the school felt surprisingly good to Logan. It was like coming back from a long holiday. Most everything was the same: Students running in the hallways, playing games in the gardens and-

“Fancy seeing you here!”

Logan turned around quickly, looking for whoever addressed him. Some children were buzzing along the halls, none of them too interested in him. Then he spotted her by the stairs. Leaning onto the dark wooden rails of the gallery. The light from the window behind her illuminating her figure.

“Y/n”, he breathed.

“Hi! Charles told me that you wanted to start teaching again.” She made her way downstairs, focus shifting between not falling and keeping her gaze on him. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see him.

He turned more toward her, watching her get closer to ground level. With each step he felt his excitement grow “He contacted me, actually. Asked whether I wanted to work here…”

“Oh really? What a coincidence ”She grinned mischievously, stopping at the end of the stairs and leaning on one of the bannisters. She kept a little space between them. There might be some familiarity between them but she didn’t want to push him too far yet and give him the chance to get closer to her if he felt like it.

But Logan stayed in place: “Do you have anything to do with that?”

She smirked, and he felt some of his charm return to him . He might be rusty but some things were just engraved in him.

“Maybe” She shrugged, smiling softly with a playful sparkle in her eyes “But I’m assuming that you won’t be teaching history, right?” Y/n teased carefully. The multiverse situation was a thing she wanted to be careful about. Wade had told her a little bit about what had happened to Logan before he transferred but she didn’t know any details.

“No, I teach PE and defence classes. You do science, right?” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, hoping to lose the tension in his body. He threw the tidbit of knowledge into the conversation, hoping that he was right and that the two versions of her had that much in common.

“Chemistry and Literature, yeah.” She smiled. She then looked at her watch before pointing towards another corridor with a sigh “I’d love to talk more, but I need to get to class. Maybe we could meet sometime.” She secured the book in her arms.

“Yes.” He answered with a stiff nod, his hands were getting sweaty.

They stood In awkward silence.

“Maybe over a coffee?” She asked, looking up at him, her lip curled upwards. Her look became more expecting as he watched her in silence.

He would catch the bait she just threw, right? Scott had laughed when she asked him about what Logan had been like; What this version might be like.

‘He’s an asshole’ He said ‘a cocky asshole and who thinks he can charm any girl he likes’ she blushed at that comment ‘But he is into the dark, mysterious type if that is what you are after’

“Maybe”, Logan gave cold and curtly.

He regretted his demeanor when he saw her smile slip for just a moment.

Fuck.

Her face slipped for a moment “Oh.. okay.” She huffed softly. “See you around then.” Y/n nodded quickly before running off.

...

A routine established itself after the first weeks back at the school. The work there itself was the same. Teach the children standard curricula, training them in controlling their powers and some extracurricular activities.

He would spend some evenings with the other members of Team X ,as they called themselves here. Sometimes he would meet Y/n in the hallway but he didn’t work up the courage to stop and talk to her beyond a quick ‘hello’.

What is wrong with you? You used to sweep women off their feet. She is offering herself to you at any chance and you still can’t manage to ask her out?

He sighed as he changed back into his regular clothes. The class had just ended. It was Friday, still fairly warm for October and the trees looked beautiful in all shades of red, orange and yellow.

Would be perfect for a romantic walk… A charming, rugged man could ask a woman out for that.

“That guy died a long time ago…” He mumbled to himself. Picking up his bag and closing the locker.

He exited the gym, making his way to his room or rather apartment. Wade managed to burn down the teacher's quarters along with the kitchens and cafeteria in some wicked stunt. No one knew what happened and that was for the best, he guessed.

However, that incident resulted in a modernized reconstruction with more spacious rooms for the teachers and a communal cafeteria that students and members of Team X shared. Great for extroverts but Logan had to pass it every time he went to his rooms, much to his dismay. To make it worse, the communal space was separate from the hall via a glass wall, allowing for a perfect view of everyone who tried to sneak past. Which led to uncomfortable situations such as this.

“Logan!” Piotr called, waving his huge metallic arm to get the other man's attention. Logan's initial reaction was to ignore him as he had done many times with the members of his old team.

No, he wanted to do better. He needed to. It was that kind of behavior that made him spiral in the first place. So he took a deep breath and channeled all jolliness available to him after 6 hours of teaching and a generally low level of it to begin with. He slowly made his way towards the teacher's table.

“Come, eat with us.” Piotr offered him the seat next to him on the thick wooden bench. A seat opposite of… fuck- of fucking course he was in on Wade’s plan to play matchmaker.

“We can’t have you get scrawny, eh?” he joked.

“Not that that would be likely to occur” Y/n joked as Logan sat down. His look snapped towards her and her eyes widened in shock at what had just come out of her mouth.

A knowing, wicked grin spread across Colossus's face. That fucking asshole…

“What are we having?” Logan asked, ignoring the situation that had just occurred. He tried to keep his gaze on Piotr who was busy filling a plate with whatever was in the big metal pot on the side of the table. His eyes shifted to Y/n every so often.

“Pierogi. I am trying out new recipes for a cooking class with my students” He said proudly, placing the plate in front of Logan “Y/n said, they are very good. Right?” He asked her, putting the woman on the spot.

“Oh, uhm…yeah. I like the new… stuffing.” She said, the answer sounding more like a question, carefully looking at Logan when he tried it. She was thankful for Piotr’s brotherly demeanor and gentle nature. Yet sometimes he would tease her as any older brother liked to do. And they sure liked to do it in front of people that the younger sibling might fancy.

Logan nodded in agreement, complimenting the man for his cooking.

“You cook here regularly?” He asked with a mouthful.

“Of course! Cooking is a very important life skill. As well as baking. You should join one of Y/n’s baking classes, she is very talented.” Colossus complimented the woman, making her grin.

“I plan on holding a workshop on the weekend for older students and alumni. You should come.” She offered, a hopeful look in her eyes. Maybe she was too discrete the last time she tried to get Logan to ask her out. So this time she tried to be more direct with her offer.

“I don’t bake,” Logan answered in a backhanded comment as he continued to eat. He didn’t think too much about it. He had planned to ask her out after lunch. He was overly focused on what he would say to her once the others left to notice how he had sounded.

It only occurred to him when he saw how Y/n visibly deflated. “Oh, right” She hummed, swallowing another bite of her food, eyes looking anywhere but towards the man who had once again rejected her so swiftly.

Piotr, just sighed with disappointment, leaning back in his chair. His hard elbow bumped into Logan’s side.

You fucked it up. Again.

...

“Okay, stop. You mean to tell me that she tried to ask you out not once but TWICE and you rejected her?” Wade paced through the living room. Trying to make sense of what his friend had just told him. “You mean to tell me that you now spend 3 months at that school? Being in her proximity 24/7 and actively avoiding her?”

Logan sat on the familiar black couch that looked even more beaten up than the last time he was at the flat. With disgust, he realized that he didn’t even want to know what caused the new damage.

“I don’t avoid her”

“Oh no? And yet the few times she does catch you creeping in the halls you manage to scare her off.” Deadpool said down one of the rotatable bar chairs. Swirling dramatically.

“No wonder the girl’s not interested in a sad drunk fuck like you,” Al commented from the table where she sat, carefully packaging her newest acquisition of sellable goods.

“ No, Al that’s the thing! The girl wants him DESPITE being a sad drunk fuck!” Wade jumped from the chair to pace around some more. He had to come up with a plan to get the two to spend time together, and get to know each other better. Create some closeness to let the sparks fly and catch on.

“That’s even worse.” Al laughed, snoring.

“Thank you for the compliments… Reassuring.” Logan groaned, regretting to even have answered Wade when he asked him about how things were going with Y/n. Maybe he wasn’t ready to be with someone again. He liked her and wanted to get to know her but something was stopping him. The urge to protect her from danger and he still thought of himself as the greatest danger to her and his team.

“On the other hand, she is still interested after being rejected TWICE. So you still have a chance, Pookie.” Wade said, sitting down next to Logan, yet again way too close.

“I’m gonna help you, buddy, Don’t you worry.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing Logan's ears “Act three needs some lovin’ and I make sure you get all the loving you need, baby” He whispered towards Logan. And with dread, and a bit of disgust, Logan accepted that he had no chance of stopping the man.

...

By the time the midterms rolled around, Logan had gotten familiar with the schedule and his profession once again. He slept better, tended to snap less at people and even his drinking tendencies seemed to get better. Being part of a community felt good and it made him angry at his younger self for rejecting the people who loved him out of some ill-placed ideology: that to keep them safe, he had to distance himself from them.

And yet you are doing it again.

He sighed as he trotted into the community kitchen. He broke his coffee maker in a fit of frustration last week and hadn’t found the time or energy to tell Charles to get a new one. He stayed out of the professor's way for the most part, not wanting to be roped into some conversation about ‘needing therapy’. So he sourced his caffeine intake from the machine that sat in the big, homely department kitchen. Another benefit was that there was always a fresh pot ready and waiting for him. Downside, there were almost always people in the kitchen, waiting for others to join in for conversation and breakfast.

This morning he should be safe from conversation. Most students and some staff went home for the fall semester break, leaving the school running on a minimal level to accommodate those who had no home to go to. There were no classes, meaning that the school apparatus calmed to a halt.

In practice that meant that almost everyone slept in with no pressure to get up early. And for Logan, that meant that he could enjoy his drink in peace before people tried to talk to him.

Lost in thought he strolled into the kitchen. It seemed empty, thank god. He sighed in relief, stretching languidly. The air exiting his lungs in a low groan.

Then a soft click sounded through the room.

A fridge being closed.

“Oh hey, you’re up early.” Y/n appeared behind the full-size fridge door that had previously shielded her from his view. She looked a little tired, not yet fully awake and a bit tousled from sleep.

Aww C’mon. Maybe Wade was right about the universe wanting them to come together. But primarily to annoy him and allow for Wade to give him the ‘I told you so’ speech.

“So are you.” He answered, leaving on the door frame and watching her pour some creamer into her cup. Upon closer inspection, she did look younger than her other iteration. Her features were softer looking with fewer wrinkles and scars. He needed to ask her about that at some point.

She leaned onto the counter to reach for another cup, taking it out of the overhead cabinet. Proceeding to pour some coffee in it. “How do you take your coffee?” She asked, turning towards him.

“I’ll take two sugars” He answered, moving towards her with slow even steps. The threat of Wade’s ‘help’ kept looming in the back of his mind, pushing him to be more open towards her and to come out of his shell. Who knows what that maniac had in mind?

Y/n hummed in agreement, dropping in two cubes of sugar and stirring the dark liquid before handing it to Logan.

He thanked her softly, holding the porcelain with his much larger hands. He had moved quite close to her, both leaning against the kitchen counter. The closeness and difference in height between them meant that Y/n had to look up to him, to make eye contact.

With a grin he noticed how she shifted her stand, one hand bunching up the material of her cardigan.

You still got it if you let it happen, man.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying their drinks and watching the sun paint pictures onto the kitchen surfaces, colored by the stained glass windows.

She was the one who broke the silence. “Are you ready for the training session today?” She asked, turning towards him, shifting her position so that her hip was pressed against the counter.

“Training?” He asked confused, setting down his cup to cross his arms over his chest, the muscles shifting visibly under his skin.

That’s right! Show her what you got!

“Yes, staff training? We got the call from Washington about a mutant security threat. Charles wants us to be ready just in case. Do you read your emails?” She teased, watching him over the rim of her mug.

“I don’t know how that stuff works if I’m honest with ya.” He shrugged “Do you go on missions regularly? On Government orders?” He remembered that Xavier had mentioned something along the lines of that. Some complicated struggles between heroes about government regulation and so on.

“Yes, after the blip it was decided that an X-team force should be established to take care of mutant-related threats or endangerments.” She explained.

He had heard of that, too. “Right. What was that blip again?”

The energy in the room shifted suddenly.

Y/n huffed, almost spilling a bit of her drink. “Ha, that’s a bit of a heavy topic for morning coffee talks.” She looked around uncomfortably. Logan seems to have hit upon a heavy subject.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He apologized quickly. Beating himself up for screwing it up once again.

“No, no it’s fine.” She shook her head, setting down her drink to cross her arms as he did. Only that she seemed to do it defensively. “Half of all life stopped existing for five years and… that left a few scars.” She explained somberly, softly nodding to herself.

Logan blinked, his mind moving at high speed to get the conversation on a good topic again. Anything to turn it around and to prevent her from having a bitter aftertaste to their first proper talk.

Yet it was her, once again, that stepped up. She noticed how he got nervous, eyes wandering, shoulders sagging.

“I’ll explain it to you later. When we are not so pressed on time.” She reached out slowly, placing her hand on his arm, squeezing it in reassurance. Y/n smiled at him softly, moving around him to exit the kitchen and prepare for the day ahead.

Without thinking Logan placed a hand over hers, just in time before she pulled hers away. It had her stop in her tracks. Her eyes moved to where his rough callused palm warmed the back of her hand, up to his eyes. He was watching her with intention.

She was nervous. This was either going to be an invitation to finally get to know him or he had enough of her and told her to stop fancying him.

“You can explain it to me on a walk to the lake? Tonight?” He asked, one eyebrow raising in question. His hand squeezed hers gently.

A second of silence followed.

She exhaled, the stress leaving her body but she had to keep her composure. A grin spread across her face “Sounds like a plan.” She held eye contact for a few beats, then let her hand slip out of his hold as she left.

That’s how you do it, Tiger!

Her lips pressed together to keep from smiling too hard as she exited the hallway.

Taglist: @sarahskywalker-amidala @myu3ki @stinastar @zortlort @zeeader @lolurk @eddiesguitarskills @elianamarie-blog @byhuenii @sunfairyy @weallhaveadestiny @catiwinky @halerune@yawnzshit @sseleniaa @starfleetteddybear @ipreferreadingtocope @br1-11 @kalicox @rushin--spy @poplottie @pushingdaisies1 @nikki-says-beautiful-lies @lizlil @matchamidoriya @simonsbluee @beiroviski @spideybv28 @suiien @prompto-is-a-chocobo@landlockedmermaid77@passionfruiticedtea @valorant-v @onlyforyuto @fallen-angels2213 @danicl25 @meowmeowyoongles @qardasngan @savy-luvs-dilfs @i-dont-do-too-much @kittykookies @hooomansstuff

I hope I got everyone on the taglist. Write to me if I missed you.

New requets for being added to the list via comments on the Masterlist post, please. That helps me to keep things organized :)

But please leave a comment on this post to provide me with serotonin 😍

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #deadpool wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #x men #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #angst #fluff #deadpool & wolverine

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 1 year

Text

DPXDC prompt ~Dead on main~Someone is walking over my grave

Jason sits on his tombstone and thinks about..something.

He lazily washes off the dirt that has been stuck on his army boots after the rain. It covers the year of his death perfectly. Grinning, he puts out a cigarette by using the mentioned stone. The cigarette butt throws between ugly funeral wreaths.

Danny: Hey, asshole, stop it!

Jason turns around. A very angry twink is rushing at him. The notorious crime lord does not have time to react when a fist hits him. Red Hood falls into a puddle. Shit! His favorite leather jacket!

Jason: What the hell are you doing?

Danny: No. What the hell are you doing?! Just because a man is dead doesn’t mean you must not respect him. You’re in a cemetery. Behave yourself, shithead. Or I’ll teach you manners.

Jason: You’re not from around here. Right?

Danny: So what? I doubt it’s normal to wipe your feet using a tombstone. Even in Gotham.

A malicious gremlin folds his arms on a chest.

Jason sits in a puddle more comfortably and pulls another cigarette out of his pocket. Damn, it’s wet.

Jason: If you were gothamite, I wouldn’t have to explain. It’s my grave, idiot. I do what I want with it.

Jason throws useless source of nicotine at his photo with black ribbon. The person who convicted him takes a couple of seconds to compare the vandal to the buried one.

Danny: Aw, shit, man. My bad, I didn’t mean to interrupt your break.

Jason’s eyebrow rises in surprise. From the outsider he expected more screaming and running. Not…apologies.

Jason: Yeah? Tell that to my favorite leather jacket. Now you can bury it next to me.

Bad Jason, bad. That’s not how normal people talk.

Danny: I’ll make amends. Tomorrow, okay? It’s my first working day. I’ve decided not to take my wallet. Need to find a safe route.

Jason: First day?

Danny: Yes, new cemetery guard here in the flesh. But I have not had time to meet all of inhabitants. Mistook you for a bad boy in a story. Well, it is your fault too! I understand you’re upset about death or maybe about the color of wreaths but please just put all the shit in the trash. I’m Danny, by the way.

Jason: Ha, I was wondering why there was no regular dude at work. Probably my neighbors drove him to a breakdown. He was an asshole, so no regrets.

Danny: Do you think so? Mrs Dent didn’t seem restless to me, she was quite nice.

The guy didn’t seem to catch the joke. Or was crazy. Why are all the hot people in Gotham are? Doesn’t matter. Why not try, right?

Jason: Don’t worry about the money. You can repay me with something else.

Danny: So you regenerates the suit? Cool. What do you want?

Jason: Um, I don’t get it, but… as compensation, I’m wanna have your number and one date.

Danny: Sure, why not.

Danny looks at the headstone.

Danny:Can you go outside the cemetery...Jason? The place is romantic, I agree, but where I grew up, it’s not customary to bring a mate at the place of rest until you meet parents.

Jason: Seriously? Cheesy horror movies didn’t teach you not to mess with zombies?

Danny: Well, I’ve never had a partner who was attracted to my brilliant brain. It must be pretty nice. And I don’t mind a couple of love bites, zombie boy.

Danny’s playfully batting his eyelashes. Jason can’t help laughing.

Danny: The less fair opinion among my friends is that I’m just brain-dead idiot. But I think they just don’t understand the benefits of adrenaline addiction, miserable humans. *pretends to wipe off a tear*

Jason *pretends to sniff*: Aw, hell, you really are a brainless doll, aren’t you?

Danny: Even so, it just means I’m perfectly safe.

Jason: Don’t think so. I want a piece of you.

Danny: Then don’t be afraid that the feeling is mutual. My teeth are also quite sharp. And when I’m haunting, it’s not easy to get rid of me.

The cheeky smile has given way to a serious look.

Danny: If we don’t get along, tell me right away, I’m not good at reading other people’s emotions.

~~~~~

Red Hood may be the son of the greatest detective but blinded by love Jason realizes that his boyfriend is quite dead only after a couple of months. He used to think Danny was a little…weird. Well, who in Gotham isn’t? It wasn't a problem. But during a funny fight about ignoring Danny in favor of a conversation with Tim , Fenton goes through him to grab his phone and then shouts that 'ghosting him is racist'.

Jason was delighted that he was able to hide his surprise. His boyfriend was too sweet, but sometimes insecure. Jay didn’t want Danny to start being cautious. Evidently, Honey thought from the first day that Jason knows. Let him keep it that way. Nothing has changed.

But now Danny’s promises to haunt Joker for the rest of his life if Jason wants it stopped being just super-hot flirt. So Jason need to make sure he doesn’t sic his darling poltergeist or whoever Danny is on someone. Even if it sounds good.

~~~~~Family dinner~~~~~

Dick: How did you two meet?

Jason: That’s a great story. My brave man beat the vandal who was messing with my grave.

Bruce: What? Who dared?

Danny: Jason, stop. It’s embarrassing.

Jason: No~ My family needs to know that chivalry is dead. My hero. Jason can’t resist a kiss on the cheek.

Danny: Taking this opportunity, I want to thank you all. It means a lot that you accepted Jason even not fully alive.

Alfred: Nonsense. Of course we..He’s family, no matter what.

Danny: Until the death separates us. Even at a wedding, love is promised only for a while. In parenthood, they do not take any oath about it. You’d be surprised how little past relationships can mean to people and how easy it is to hate what we are.

Danny: Damn, I ruined the mood, didn’t I? Sorry.

~~~~~

Jason: B, with all due respect, back off. You should ask Constantine how to help Danny if his family becomes a problem. Don’t mark my babe as a problem.

Bruce: I asked. And he laughed at me and said that you are the one who need protection. not him. Your Fenton is dangerous. Ghosts of such power only emerge in cataclysms after a large burst of energy or reach this level after centuries of battles or cannibalism and battles.

Jason: Seriously, old man? My boyfriend’s not gonna eat me. I’m not Red riding hood and he’s clearly not pretending to be my grandmother.

~~~~~~

Danny: Hi, honey. what’s new?

Jason noted with satisfaction that Danny had eaten all the supplies he had prepared for him.

Jason: Nothing, but now I have an idea for great Halloween costumes for us. They are gonna drive the old man crazy.

Danny: Did you fight again? What is it this time?

Jason: Guess what, now B’s worried you want to bite off my dick or something.

Danny: First, eew, disgusting. Don’t talk about our intimate life with fucking Batman. Why would he think that? I like you whole.

Jason: Whore?

Danny: Idiot.They don’t even sound alike.

Jason: Just admit that I am an eye candy and kiss me already. I need a break from the madness of my family.

~~~~~

Later Danny blackmails Constantine for information about the interrogation from Batman.

Then he sends a short message to the group chat : Tell the future father-in-law that while Jason can cook, he is safe from me.

The chat explodes from questions of Batclan to Bruce. Jay has great brothers and sisters. Danny knew their chaotic energy could be relied upon.

~~~~~

In the morning Jason yells at Tim. Why the hell did Replacement put "Friends For Dinner" from The Land Before Time as his alarm melody?

~~~~~

Bruce *is suspicious of the ghosts at the wedding*.

GhostWriter: Do not think that we like it. The boy is involved in his own version of Twilight. Oh Ancients, I hope the Ancients don't know about it.

Clockwork aka one of Ancients: Come on, that’s sweet. And story will have a happy ending. I guarantee.

~~~~~

Jason's in a date simulator with no chance of losing when everyone thinks he’s in a horror game. Is Danny dangerous? Yeah. Did he hunt when they first met? Who knows. The main thing in the middle of the conversation Danny realised he found a creature with a similar sense of humor. So that made Jason 10 out of 10 aka soulmate and he would kill for him.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc #ghost hunger au #dead on main #danny phantom x jason todd #danny fenton x jason todd #dirty talk #??? idk

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kisseobie · 6 months

Text

p1harmony and the coquette boyfriend trend

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: none

based on this tiktok trend

a/n: just a cute and silly little reaction (while i work on tumblr girls) inspired by @yunhoszn 𐙚 this trend is sooo over but who gaf if i wanna put a bow on my piwon’s biceps i should be able to like… also piwon as a whole give me the vibes of that picture of the rotc kid saluting with the caption “me when a bad bitch tell me to do something” so i tried to emulate that here too LMAOO

౨ৎ keeho

i already know kyo’s chornically online ass was made aware of this trend even before it actually took off, was going to bring it up to you, but being the stubborn man he is, opted out of doing so because he thinks it should be you begging him to let you tie him up in a little bow!! and he’s so real for that!! goes as far as reposting every single video following the trend he comes across, and starts humming the lana del rey song whenever your near so he can hopefully telepathically send you signals that he wants you to put a bow on his bicep and show him off!! his approach is a bit unconventional but low and behold it somehow works, and when you do ask him to film that tiktok he annoyingly pretends he didn’t even know about the trend in the first place, as if you didn’t pick up on his very obvious signs. says shit like “why a bow? but omg you’re soooo obsessed with me!” (and you are!)

౨ৎ theo

i imagine you bring it up to him and he’s just confused as to why that’s a trend and what its supposed to mean, and even when you explain it to him he still doesn’t get it. you show him examples and he still doesn’t get it. ask you meaningless questions like “why put a bow on me? what does the bow represent? i’ve never heard of this type of couple trend?” but his questioning doesn’t mean that he’s opposed to it!! quite the opposite actually, he’s very endeared over the fact that you want to make a tiktok with him despite your relationship being fairly new. i do think he would rather have little bows in his hair rather than the usual tie around the bicep, please put him in pigtails and call him your pretty princess because it’s what he deserves! you two end up laughing the entire time you style his hair and film the video, and it’s little moments like these that make your relationship oh so sweet

౨ৎ jiung

literally will do anything you ask for him because once he’s locked in, he’s locked in. when you timidly bring it up to him he’s gonna nod at you with big eyes and his little concentrated pout, reassuring you with no hesitation that yes, he would love for you to wrap him in a pink bow, and no, you don’t have to be embarrassed to ask him for anything. i honestly think ji has a bit of a possessive side if his radio conversation with keeho about his future gf dancing up on other men is anything to go off of, and the fact that you want to claim him as your on the internet, even if it is for a silly little trend, makes his heart happy and feeds into that quality of his. once you’ve filmed the tiktok, with one of his pretty fingers adorned with a singular pink bow, he gives you a kiss on the cheek and keeps the bow on for the rest of the day, even if he has practice later. this experience leads him to spending more time on tiktok despite his grandpa personality, and he searches for other couple videos you two can make together in the future :] just so sweetie pie

౨ৎ intak

honestly just like keeho he’s on tiktok all the time and gets behind trends pretty quickly, so when intak begs you to do this new trend he keeps seeing on his for you page you aren’t surprised. honestly, you had also been wanting to participate in the trend, partly because it’s cute and partly because tak has gorgeous arms, but you kept it quiet because you wanted him to work for it! it’s pretty amusing actually, he ends up forcing you to come along with him to the gym when he works out much more often just so he can lift heavy weights and flex his arms for you. he just wants you to deem his biceps worthy of being wrapped in a bow!! please don’t tease him for too long because he will have a permanent sad puppy look on his face for the rest of the month. when you finally cave and wrap his arm in a bow he is sooo cheesed. had this goofy grin on his face and flexes his muscles which results in him accidentally splitting the bow in two, which both pisses you off and turns you on at the same time?

౨ৎ soul

literally is so pliable under your hands, much like jiung he will let you do anything to him with little to no complaints or even acknowledgement. he simply exists to make his girlfriend happy! you don’t even ask him to film the video because you already know the answer will be yes (in the form of a strange sound), so you get to work as soon as you make way into his dorm room. you stay true to shota’s reputation of being slightly abnormal by wrapping the entirety of your roll of ribbon around his entire body, mummifying him from head to toe and topping it off with a delicately tied bow at his ankles. he doesn’t complain throughout the entire process, even if you’ve interrupted his gaming sesh with seob. when you film and publish the ridiculous tiktok, you point your phone towards him so he can appreciate the fruit of your labor, and when he finally does get to see the video for himself he lets out the biggest laugh that puts an equally big smile on your face

౨ৎ jongseob

you both actually discover the trend together! you two have a routine of cuddling up and scrolling through one of your for you pages, alternating phones each night depending on your battery levels. tonight, jongseob has your back against his chest as he scrolls through your tiktok when the trend first pops up on the screen, and you both get intrigued and scroll through the let the light in sound on tiktok to watch more. you don’t say anything to him but seob can tell you want to participate, and he ends up sweetly informing you that “we can do this trend if you want! i don’t have ribbon on me right now though..” and with that your eyes light up. the two of you end up buying ribbon at the craft store the next day for the sole purpose of filming that video, and you both rush to his dorm afterwards to film the tiktok. you end up settling on wrapping the dainty ribbon around both of his arms and torso, the pair of you refilming several times to get it “just right”. just like the other boys, seob is just happy to please his pretty gf!

ʕ•̫͡ 𐙚

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