#And it were the 80s so even less fucks even
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You think Cele/ Pecco/ Bez ever called Vale to tell him he can't make it to the ranch the weekend cause their parents can't drive them (can't take public transport cause equipment) and on Friday Vale shows up at their school with the other academy kids he already picked up and is like
#I didn't include Franky cause as far as I know Franky literally lives/lived in Tavullia#So he could take his bike#Like when they were too young to drive themself#motogp#valentino rossi#vr46 academy#pecco bagnaia#celestino vietti#marco bezzecchi#This hadn't been previously discussed with their parents#Cause Vale's parents let him do whatever he wanted and he thought it was normal to not know where your kid was or if they were safe#And it were the 80s so even less fucks even#But apparently you can't pick up someone else's kid after school and drive them to your place a few hundred kilometers away without parents#Knowledge#:(#Sad Vale moment
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i think if i painted my ex situationship i'd be cured it's the most shallow but intense connection i've had w anyone i think i am so obsessed w how she looks i want 2 photograph her/paint her forever rant in tags but ive talked abt it b4 so feel free to ignore
#god her personality is so . kind of repulsive its insane i think shes a good friend to her friends but#the way she just openly admitted to treating her exes like they r less than human w the most beautiful smile u have seen in ur life#shes acc tainted tottenham court for me bc i keep thinking of our second date where she wrapped her hands around me from behind waiting for#the train . also yh sorry we were one of those cringe ppl on the escalator sorry sorry never again sorry#shes shorter than me but on the escelators she was taller so she kissed the top of my head gently#w the most beautiful side profile on earth she said she didnt even lead me on. its fine it was never that serious#ill FUCKING KILL YOU#thinking abt when on a date she was like . yh my ex would look lovely pregnant đ like bitch. WHAT#also she has central heterochromia so like . super beautiful big green/brown eyes longest eyelashes ever + i dont want to lose you i think#im 80% sure we should just be friends ok my love#i took you to a party on a high-rise and you held my neck when u kissed me on a canary wharf rooftop and now you just told me you want to#fuck pregnant women and that you basically cheated on your ex who then cheated on you but its ok bc shes the love of ur life#????#anyway#sorry i am acc basically almost entirely over her this was triggered by her texting me to meet up a few mins ago#after ghosting me for a while . anywya w/e time to hang out w friends and study
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đ˝ action!: rank all six of the films (or three if you're a hater)
Answers for this LotR ask-game.
Ahh okay so at this point I have to confess something terrible: I still have not seen the third Hobbit movie. I'm sorry! I just couldn't do it. The fuckery of it all, especially in the second movie with Mirkwood and Thranduil and Legolas ("a lowly Silvan elf" what the FUCK what the fuck PJ WHAT THE FUCK), was just too much for me. Character-assassination is one thing, and I thought after Denethor I knew what I was going to be getting with Thranduil but NOPE! It was literal world building assassination and I just CANNOT.
Don't get me wrong, Lee Pace did an amazing job and actually seeing Mirkwood was amazing and it was genuinely delightful to see Orlando put those ears on again; but the OuTrAgE that filled my heart at the yeet-ing of what minimal canon we even have for the Mirkwood elves was just intolerable, and while I did mean to go see it, really I did, I just...couldn't actually get the motivation to go before it was out of theatres. I've heard the EE are better (less studio fuckery) so I'll watch them someday! Honest! I just...haven't. yet.
And as to the Lord of the Rings trilogy...man, I don't even know how to do this. In terms of which is the best film, or in terms of which one I enjoy watching most, or in terms of which on hits me in the heart hardest or...? I don't know if I can objectively rank my feelings about these movies even in my own brain because RotK ends with Into the West and I have FeelingsTM about the Undying Lands and Sea Longing okay. So the last scene of RotK at the Grey Havens is a fucking spear through the heart every time and I can't even describe the knot of feelings it engenders, and I think overall TTT may be my favorite but also it has Plot Issues that piss me off even more than the Plot Issues in RotK I think,...yeah, we're going to do this in terms of Film Crafting rather than personal favorites because I'm having too many feelings lmao. So! In order of most-well-done-movie to least:
Fellowship of the Ring
The Two Towers
Return Of The King
The Desolation of Smaug
An Unexpected Journey
#look there are some REALLY LOVELY MOMENTS in the hobbit movies#(all three of them; i've seen enough stuff floating around the internet to know that even about the one i haven't actually seen lmao)#but the ratio of beautiful moments to what-the-fuckery is just so skewed to the latter#and the cartoonish unreality of most of the effects do NOT help#it's like somebody watched the mumakil bit from rotk and went ''more of that but dial it up to eleventy-one!'' and i just...#do y'all know how FUCKING EXCITED i was to see the White Council???#to see GALADRIEL?#to see sauron thrown out of dol guldur? TO SEE THE WHITE COUNCIL!???#because as soon as i heard ''three movies'' i knew I KNEW (i hoped) that they had to be adding that it#because how the fuck else were they going to pad-out that tiny little book into three whole movies? OBVIOUSLY with the white council!!!#and then...we got a chase scene in the mines that made the podracing look like it deserved an oscar#and the most cringe-inducingly-artificial cgi armies at war that i think i've ever seen even IN video games#it was like watching galactic battlegrounds middle-earth edition wtf#did y'all literally just make one elf and one dwarf and copy-past them a million times into the scene wtffffff#but i still need to make it clear that i DO love the good bits that's what makes the bad parts hurt so much!#like: does the fact that the elves coming to helm's deep make no sense and also VANISH from the plot as soon as it's over irritate me? YES!#but the battle itself is filmed with so much HEART that i don't care I DON'T CARE#i still cheer at ''no orc horn'' i still weep at haldir's death (GODS that MUSIC!) i still watch the whole thing RAPT and ENTHRALLED#but 80% of the hobbit's actions scenes don't DO anything they're just empty pixels with less purpose than the droid factory on geonosis#and there should be SO MUCH HEART because that's WHAT TOLKIEN IS auuuughhhhhh#and the fact that they missed the entire fucking EVERYTHING about MIRKWOOD of all fucking places...! UGH#DO YOU KNOW HOW AMAZING THESE ACTORS WOULD HAVE BEEN IN THESE ROLES IF THEY'D ACTUALLY BEEN FILMING THIS STORY??? PJ WHY!#lotr movies#hobbit movies#middle earth asks
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why is it so much worse knowing how many people out there want me (& everyone in this body) dead cause we don't feel empathy than knowing about the ones who want the same cause we're trans
#i mean i guess it's cause we live in a bubble where most people we know are trans#n the whole 'empathy makes us human' thing is a rly popular opinion in the more progressive circles#i guess it's. just another item in the long list of traits that might make us subhuman to others#we don't even have it as bad as people w/ like aspd n stuff. it's a lot easier to hide for us#usually will come off as social awkwardness instead#but every time there's a video going around the mainstream sm where someone w/ low/no empathy talks about how their mind works#the majority of the comments are just so. dehumanizing. like we're some rabid animals that need to be put down for public safety#n i guess causw it's so inherently linked to whatever it is about our wiring that makes us so. different from almost everyone else.#why we can't seem to connect w/ people n why we feel so fucking isolated all the time#like we just came out wrong n there's no fixing it#& the way we've lately come to understand more how much dmg our mother prevented w/ her parenting#but also how much of it that stuck coulda been prevented if she'd had the tools & safe environment#i don't even mean like. the trauma shit. but the things that needed to be noticed n steered into a different direction when we were small#instead of us wreaking havoc up to our late teens when we finally connected some dots that most people have connected from birth#though i think most of the usual ways of correcting it are more or less abusive. there's ones that aren't but idk how accessible that info#woulda been 20+ years ago#anyway it just really sucks how our fb feed tries to give us some light informative vids on people w/ similar experiences in some areas#n the comments are 80% ppl throwing around diagnoses they don't understand#n holding us responsible for everything their shitty abusive ex/parent/boss did#n literally sayin shit like 'people like this are better off dead'#not very good for my mental health#even though i don't give much more value to those people than they put on ones like me#spdrvent
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KMS. BADLYY
#my lifegen cat died im sooo sad. my clan hit like 100 cats and i was like omg ill turn on mass extinction events so ill have less cats !#and the very next moon mass extinction event took out ME! rip sedgestripe my good friend. idk why you had a crush on your apprentice who wa#also your SON IN LAW but.#THAT WASNT ME I DIDNT DO THAT. i fucking was checking his relationships andsaw that and i was like . mediator kill this#but it was also sadd bc it just made them hate eachother but still be in love and i felt bad. bc eh was my first apprentice#i jsut forgot to turn off mentor-apprentice romance. and they werent Together obvi but yk.#but yeah like yk this is the first clan i made a FR family tree for including all the like. moons when they were born and shit.#i didnt write any lore bc well im still sad over last time i wrote lore and the clan just vanished but likee. MAN!!#literally everybody in the clan was somehow related to sedgestripe tangentially (aside from the starclan guide and ONE dead cat who died#like. the moon after i was born. so i didnt have time to hook him in sorry barktree.#UGHHH im just like whatever whatever i dont even wanna play anymore im so sad about it... he was only 80 :[#80 moons that is. so a little over 6 and a half years.. tahts so younggg wah wah wah wah#like he had 15 kits and was the best medicine cat in the clan so its not like he had any unfinished business. he got to meet some of his#great grankits yk... but im still so bummed basically is the gist of it#SIGHHH. do you guys want to see the family tree tho. and i need 2 attach pictures as well...
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quastion. if you were a high schooler looking to take the least stressful lab science would you taking physics or chemistry
i think this is a simpler question of which do you enjoy more? for me i would choose physics over chemistry any day but thatâs because i hate chemistry and so all chem labs i took were boring and stressful, and i love physics so the labs were fun and interesting
however if both subjects are equally uninteresting to you, then i do recommend physics! maybe i'm biased, but i think even personal interest aside, my high school chem labs were definitely more involved and complicated than my high school physics labs. physics experiments in lower level classes such as high school (and even introductory college physics to some extent) are pretty simple to set up and conduct, the main understanding comes from doing the math afterwards to get any sort of result out of it, whereas chem was more like, actually mixing stuff and then observing
not only were physics labs easier, simpler, and more engaging, but each lab also was unique and distinct from each other. i really can only recall the same basic setup of like, mixing stuff together as the idea behind every single chem lab i did. the exact way you mixed them together differed of course but that was the main idea
meanwhile some examples of physics labs i recall from high school include:
projectile motion: most likely you will roll a marble down a ramp off the edge of the lab table, measure the horizontal and vertical distances it traveled, maybe time it also or use a photogate to measure the velocity, or something, and then use the kinematic equations to find any missing variables, and then through all that you will probably be to told to find the value of g, what is known as the acceleration due to gravity, aka the rate at which things fall.
circular motion: you may be using a FLYING PIG to demonstrate circular motion!!! figuring out the tension in the string, the idea of centripetal force, centripetal acceleration, rates of revolution, etc.
harmonic motion: push some slinkies around, demonstrate hooke's law and spring force, calculation of frequency and oscillation, maybe observing resonant frequencies and resonant modes
standing waves: using some sort of low tech version of a standing wave generator to observe, well, standing waves. the high school version of this lab i believe was very surface level and was mostly just drawing how different standing waves looked, counting the nodes and antinodes, and predicting it for different frequencies. i think the teacher even got us a giant rope and we had to recreate the lower frequency standing waves together as a class by just oscillating it ourselves
all around, in my experience at least, high school physics labs are so much more involved and engaging than chem ever was. and while the math involved in the physics class was more daunting than chem, it was such a fun and interactive class. and again i may be biased but i think, if both chem and physics are uninteresting to you but you need to choose one anyway, i think having a basic background in physics is a lot more useful and goes a lot further than a basic background in chem does. i truly believe that knowing stuff about the kinematic equations, circular motion, free body diagrams, harmonic motion, etc etc will enrich your life further and change the way you see the world around you. high school physics will not make you an expert but it can certainly make observing patterns in life and how the natural world operates a lot more fun and exciting
#sorry i am INCAPABLE of ever giving a brief response when it comes to physics stuff lol#ask#Anonymous#literally the only chem lab i remember is titration and i cant even tell you what titration is anymore#all i know is that it was long and frustrating and the word makes me shudder years later#like some acid and base type shit i really could not tell you#but by far my most vivid memory of any science class i took in my 4 years of high school .was the fucking flying pig in physics#i will say i did get far better grades in chem. but despite that i also felt like i understood way fucking less as i was going through it#which made it its own brand of stressful#my grades in physics were my worst in high school but even despite that i still felt like i was retaining and learning so much more#and despite the complexity of the subjects increasing throughout the school year my grades actually increased as well#its truly just like a rough learning curve at first adjusting to the class compared to previous science classes#and if your physics class is like how mine was and you all get bad grades then a good teacher will offer opportunities#for you to earn points back and that also means that concepts get reinforced in your head#so despite getting a 60 on an exam he will make us basically redo the exam and relearn the concepts#and earn an 80 on it once we're done with exam corrections#so you will get a better grade in the end AND actually LEARN from doing badly on the exam#so what im saying here is: it also depends on the teacher. so if you get a bad teacher who just gives you a bad grade and moves on#then like. the class will not be enjoyable. and will be stressful. but if you have a good teacher then it should be fine#and you WILL get bad grades. you just will. but dont sweat it because literally everyone will always get bad grades#and a good teacher will give you the opportunity to make up for those bad grades. bc its unfair to punish you for it.#since everyone always gets bad grades. lol
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im so sorry but its so incredibly bone chilling to think about how the guatemalan civil war only ended less than a year before i was born; how cushiony it is to think about how distant and far removes the american civil war of 150 years ago was
#'peak violence between late70s to early80s' cannot stop thinking about how my parents came to the state in the 80s#dont know exactly what year but does it even fucking matter#'civil war' is so misleading too because it was literally largely a war between the poor indigenous and the fucking puppet government#set up by the united states no less because of vested interest ALL BECAUSE OF ONE ENTIRE SHITTY FRUIT#im sorry bananas arent bad or anything i dont have anything against them but im literally shaking in anger that these people were willing#to commit genocide over a stupid piece of shit fruit to the point of literally fabricating lies about soviets or communism or whatever tf#just so they could justify ownership over their stupid ass crop and in order to not have to pay the workers actually growing these crops#btw i dont mean to downplay the american civil war either please dont get the wrong idea from this#its just. you'd think maybe something wouldve changed. improved over those 100 years. and yet
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One issue I have is there's a whole lot of things where it's like "I'm actually nearly on your side, I'm very sympathetic to this, I just need one or two issues addressed and then I'd be with you on this... you just have to kinda... walk me through how this thing that feels like a kinda big problem isn't a problem"
And pretty much always it's just kinda like "oh, well it's not a problem, so don't worry about it"
...mhh... yeah... but I need some actual proof. I want to trust you, but I need something that actually deals with it, not to just basically be told to have faith... I have no faith, I'm a faithless person
And it's such a shame cause... instead of being able to work along side people I tend to hover off to the side trying to support it in my own small ineffective ways cause... I just have serious issues no one's ever bothered to address
Just sucks, you know?
#sorry; just can't get behind dogmatic stuff#there's people where it's like frankly I'd like to believe every word you say and just blindly agree with you because I like you very much#but... I can't#...I can't cause it sure seems like if we do things your way people will get hurt#and... you're... kinda... just... you know... pointing at tumblr posts and saying you think you heard this or that#ok; but... could we like... do research together and try and come as close to the objective truth as possible?#and then try and build our thoughts on how to support the best possible world based on the best information we can get?#I want to just follow blindly but... I can't#and I'm thinking of one thing right now; one particular thing; but I'm pretty sure there's a lot of others I could point to#and listen; I'm not saying I'm right or I'm smart#but if you ask I can at least draw you a line from point a to point z and walk you through why I think what I think#like I can tell you why I support Ukraine so strongly; I can point to patterns of behavior by russia#if you have the stomach for it I can walk you through war crimes; I can show why I don't think giving up land is acceptable#(the war crimes are relevant to why I don't think it's acceptable to ask Ukraine to give up territory... there's people living there)#it might take some time; a day or so maybe; but if you asked me a specific thing I would work to track you down a source on my opinion#like you don't have to take my word about the damn that russia blew; I can prove that happened#and then I can lay out why I find anything but that russia did it to not make a lick of sense#but... why on earth would I bother with all that; no one ever listens#last time I tried to explain to someone that they were mistaken about 80% of US currency being printed in the last 4 years#or... whatever total bullshit claim it was#I tracked down the source of the claim (said to myself this source reeks like shit)#I figured out what they were fudging to claim it; then I tracked that down and figured out what it actually said#(they changed how they account for US currency in foreign hands or something like that to try and account for it better)#(it's a change in how we tabulate things; the exact same amount of money exists; we just count it different)#(and so on the chart you have this jump... but it's a jump of a measurement not existing before and now it does)#(or something like that... no one listened last time I looked it up; why the fuck would I look it up for this)#and this is someone I'm friendly with and they couldn't even be bothered to say 'huh; I'm not convinced but thanks'#or whatever; you know; main point is they couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge it#do you know why I feel like I'm invisible? like I probably don't actually exist?#why if I were less in touch with reality I'd think the government swats messages of mine down so people can't respond?
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âguilty pleasureâ | 8.6k
worst!logan howlett x f!reader
SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. Heâs convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesnât seem so bad after all.
WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - theyâre basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kidâ.
A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that iâm LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love yâall.
** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didnât want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, iâve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i donât know when iâll be posting it, but iâm sure it wonât take me that long.
*** iâm also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i donât know if anyoneâs going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)
**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes donât hesitate to tell me :)
special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic đ the sweetest human ever
The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.
Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. Itâs what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.
Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. Youâre pretty sure that holding some strangerâs hair while they empty their insides wasnât on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesnât grow on trees, and university isnât going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you.Â
Perhaps this isnât the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. Youâd often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients youâd ever encountered. In the past, heâd even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, youâd be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: âYouâll be much better than me, doll. Iâm a mess, canât you see it? You donât wanna be like me,â his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. âI should be at my daughterâs birthday right now, but I didnât get an invitation this year. Believe me, you donât want to end up like this old man.âÂ
Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesnât receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. Youâre certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, youâd be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.
The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see whoâs arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, youâre compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the strangerâs features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.Â
You:
cutie patootie alert
thereâs this really handsome guy at the bar
i donât think iâve ever seen him before
i think iâm in love with him
my night just got a 100% better
Allison:
age
what does he look like
is he bald?
You:
he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? itâs hard to tell UGH i wish you were here
brown hair, beard, 6â2 if iâm not wrongÂ
i didnât stare at him for too long
otherwise that wouldâve been very weird
and no heâs not fucking bald
that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentlemanâs lack of hairÂ
Allison:
so youâre dating retired now
get it grandma!
You:
oh fuck you allisonÂ
Allison:Â
itâs okay girl we all have our flaws
just make sure itâs nobodyâs father
wait itâs not mine right?
You:
nah your dadâs way hotter donât you worry about it
Allison:
bitchÂ
Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.
âDo I have somethinâ on my face?â you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit itâs pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.
The glow of a phoneâs flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. âEnough of that, yâhear me?â
Enter you now. âOkay, gentlemen, Iâm sorry. Iâm gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?â you mumble as you gently push them aside. âThank you, thank you. Yâall can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.â
Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.Â
Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. âDoll, itâs the fucking Wolverine. Donât ask him for a picture, though. He doesnât seem to be in the mood for that.â
The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.
âGuys, what youâre doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought Iâd taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldnât have it.â
Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. âShe does have a point.âÂ
âThank you, peanut. Youâre still my favorite,â you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. âYou can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?â they all scoff, barking their disagreement. âOh, you donât like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,â you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. âChop chop. All this alcohol wonât be drinking itself.â
Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.
âThank you,â he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.Â
âNo need to. Itâs what Iâm here for,â you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. âCan I get you anything to drink? Itâs also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.â
(No. Itâs not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)
He doesnât seem too eager to hear you talk. âNot hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.â
âYou sure?â
âYeah, kid. Very sure.â Well, now he does look annoyed.
âGreat. Iâll be back in a minute,â you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you donât even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. âI see youâre thirsty.â
âCould you leave the bottle here?â those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although youâd be happy to oblige, rules are rules.Â
âActually, I canât. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,â your proposal doesnât appear to have the desired effect on him. âI wonât talk to you if thatâs what you want.â
âIâll take your word for it,â he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.Â
You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.
âWhat a weirdo. Didnât you see it on TV? Heâs not even from this universe,â Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. âLet me tell yâall something: he shouldnât even be here. Heâs fucking dead on this earth.â
Yeah⌠that you knew.
It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone wouldâve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you wouldâve laughed in their face.
As if that werenât already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that thereâs a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you canât seem to be scared of him. Thereâs something magnetic about his personality and that donât-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.
âI can hear your thoughts,â a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.
âI thought you didnât want me to talk,â you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. âI can assure you your liver hates you.â
âAlcohol wonât kill me, so donât be afraid. Keep âem coming.â
For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. âYou canât smoke in here.â
âNo special treatment?â he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. Heâs so⌠dreamy. He has to know it.
âI saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.â
His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. âYou saved my what?â
âYour goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.â
âBlame the idiots you have for clients,â he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. âI was just mindinâ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.â
âLook, Wolvie. Iââ
âWolvie?â giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. âThatâs the worst nickname Iâve heard in a long time,â he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. âItâs Logan.â
âWow. Your name is very boybandish.â
You succeed in making him laugh once again. Itâs the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles youâve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that heâs a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.
Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesnât leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.
âSo this is where youâve been hiding, you preening slut. Canât even bother to answer my calls now?â
The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesnât dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. âWade, what the hell are you doinâ here?â
âIt hasnât been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I donât even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,â the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. âNo offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The nameâs Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.â
âYou dumb fuck. Are you flirtinâ with her?â
âNo shit, smartass. Youâre the future of this country.â
A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. âWell, arenât you two a beautiful couple?â
âYou should see our little munchkin. Heâs got my eyes and Loganâs hair. His first word was gubernatorial.â
âWould you like to have a drink while youâre here?â
âA beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. Youâre the cutest,â Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Loganâs direction, bumping his shoulder. âSheâs the cutest. Are you two together?â
Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. âHow did you find me?â
âIt's the power of love, baby. I had Itâs All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldnât stop thinking about you.â
Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Loganâs face. âI didnât know patience was your strongest suit.â
âMe neither.â
âEnough of that! I canât stand not being included in a conversation,â Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. âThere you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?â
You canât help but snort. âIâm 25.â
Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. âNow that I think about it, you could totally be Loganâs caretaker. Heâs been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you⌠know anything about adult diapers?â
But then Loganâs face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wadeâs arm. âThatâs it. Weâre leavinâ,â his eyes lock on you for a moment. âHow much do I owe you?â
âDonât worry about it. Itâs on the house.â
The things youâre willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.
(But you arenât.)
His mouth hangs open in disbelief. âKiddo, are youââ
âCompletely sure,â you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. âJust donât tell my boss.â
Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. âI usually donât mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.â
âIâm gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.â
âOh, come on! I was just making small talk,â the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. âIt was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. Iâm free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mineâs way more agile and young!â
As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.
What the fuck had just happened?
âPatrickâs normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,â you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. âHe can usually handle himself, but at some point, heâll try to call his ex-wife, and thatâs when you know you need to stop serving him.â
She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. âThis is⌠definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.â
You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. âYouâll get used to it, believe me. Iâll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.â
After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now sheâs your trainee.
Your savior complex strikes again!
It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail.Â
Touching your arm softly, Gwenâs face lights up. âAnother man came in. Is he a regular? I donât think you told me about him.â
Fuck, itâs him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.
âLeave this one to me,â you tell her as your feet take you to where Loganâs sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. âLong time no see.â
âHey, kid,â he grins. âWhatâs up?â
âNothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so thatâs a good thing,â you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. âWhiskey?â
âYou know me so well,â a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. âThough this time, I wonât be leavinâ without payinâ.â
âWeâll see about that,â you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. âIs that your boyfriend?â
You almost drop the whiskey bottle. âGod, no. Heâs not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.â
âItâs funny,â she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you donât. âHe hasnât stopped looking at you since he arrived.â
âItâs probably because of this,â you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as youâre about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. Sheâs wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if sheâs a model, because she certainly looks like one.
Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Loganâs expression is hard to read, he doesnât even flinch.
âYou know what? Hereâs his drinkâ You take care of it. Iâll stay here,â you donât give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.Â
âDoll, are you okay?â Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. âThere you go.â
âThank you, Adam. Iâm fine, never been better. Why you ask?
âYou sure?â
âAffirmative.â
âYou mixed up our drinks,â he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. âThis never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and Iâve got his martini.â
âFuck! Iâm so sorry. I justâ I donât know whatâs wrong with me,â you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. âI feel stupid.â
âOh, please. Donât say that. Youâre far from being stupid,â he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. âIf you ask me, I think youâve got your mind on someone else,â he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: âRemember: I know when youâre lying. You didnât charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,â taking a tentative sip of the martini he didnât even ordered, Adam shrugs. âIâm a great observer. Thatâs all.â
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.
âAs I said, your mindâs somewhere else,â Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. âGo get your man. Iâll survive.â
âNot my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.â
Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: âHi.â
Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.
âHey, claws,â you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. âDo you need anything?â
Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. âI also wanted to talk to you.â
âI thought you were busy over there,â you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. âDid you get her number?â
âWhat? No.â
âWhy not? Sheâs cute.â
Yeah, maybe you donât sound as collected as you think.
Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. âIâm not interested.â
âAnd what is it that interests you, champ?â your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.
After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. âWade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartmentâ well, our apartment. I live with him now. Itâs complicated,â he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. âAnyway, he asked me to tell you that youâre invited. I know we donât know each other that much, but⌠he said you seem like someone worth havinâ around,â he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. âI think the same as well.â
You could die at peace.
âYouâre a lucky fucker because I donât work on Sundays,â you quip, smiling. âIâd be more than happy to attend your feast.â
âGreat. I thought you would turn down the invitation.â
âNow why would you think that?â
ââCause you barely know meâ us,â he corrects himself rapidly. âPlus, Wadeâs annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. Youâll see.â
âMarital problems?â he actually in response. âIâll take that as a âyesâ. Oh, Iâll bring the dessert.â
âYou donât have to.â
âBut I do want to,â you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.
âJust want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,â Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. âThe tipâs included.â
âI donât know how things work in your universe, but youâre giving me way more money than youâre supposed to. I can't accept this.â
âOh, but you will,â his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and youâre glad he canât see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.
He writes down Wadeâs address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. âI should get goinâ. See you tomorrow then.â
Before he walks out the door, you stop him. âLogan? You didnât answer my other question.â
His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. âGood night, doll.â
This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though youâve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and thereâs a knot in your stomach thatâs becoming all too familiar.
âWould you mind telling me where you got him?â Gwenâs voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.
âHeâs not from around here. I think heâs Canadian.â
Youâve got this. Youâve got this. Youâve got this.
Knocking softly on Wadeâs door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. Itâs your first time trying out this recipe, so youâre expecting it to at least not taste like shit.
Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. âWell, look what the wind blew in: if it isnât my husbandâs lover. How dare you? Weâre still going to couples therapy.â
You show him the container, and he squints at it. âTiramisu. You want it or not?â
âI hate twenty-somethings,â he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.Â
Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. Thereâs a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. âDonât get too excited. Heâs still showering,â Wadeâs voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. âYeah. I noticed. Youâre already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.â
âKeep quiet!â you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. âWade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?â
âCouldnât help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.â
Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. âI thought you were cominâ later.â
âMe too, but IâŚ,â you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, âI didnât know what else to do at my place.â
âItâs fine. Justâ let me put on some clothes.â
âPlease donât,â Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. âI was just being honest. Communication is key.â
When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. âThat was probably the hottest thing Iâve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.â
âThin walls, buddy!â Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.Â
Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. âIs that your phone?â
âYeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!â he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. âHey, Ness! What´s up?â Wade covers the speaker before telling you: âItâs Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.â
From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. âHey, kid.â
âNo, Iâm not busy at all,â Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. âIâll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,â he spreads his arms wide and whistles. âSomeoneâs getting laid tonight!â
âYou made me come all the way here⌠and now youâre leaving?â
âWhat? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,â in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. âShave yourself, will you?â
âGo fuck yourself, will you?â
âLove you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!â
Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?
Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.
âSo... I, uh, bought pizza,â he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.
You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. âPizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.â
Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. âYeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didnât want to ruin it, yâknow?â
You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. âThank you. Iâm a big fan of pizza.â
He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?
âLoganâŚ,â you begin, your tone gentle but probing, âCan I ask you something?â
He glances up at you, eyes widening. Thereâs something in your eyes âan understanding, maybeâ that makes him feel like you could see right through him.Â
âSure,â he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. âAsk away.â
You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. âI was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.â
The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadnât talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasnât sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. âYeah, it's okay. Iâll answer what I can.â
âI just... I want to understand you better.â
âWell, first and foremost, Iâm no hero. You should know that by now.â
âI beg to differ.â
âKid, Iâm the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,â Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. Youâre wondering if doing this was a good idea. âI need a drink.â
He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. âI donât thinkââ
With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once heâs done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. âWhat?â he asks, exhaling slowly.
âThat was completely unnecessary,â you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. âBut, back to what you said beforeâ I donât think youâre the worst Logan.â
âYou didnât know me back then, darlinâ. I fucked it up,â he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. âLike the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beastâ All of them,â his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. âWanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldnât do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.â
The pizzaâs long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.Â
Loganâs silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. âOne day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.â
Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. âI can guess the rest. You donât have toââ
But he cuts you off. âNo, let me say it. I need to say it,â he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. âBy the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.â
Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesnât pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. âMy suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were⌠dead. I started killing, and I couldnât stop. I didnât want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.â
You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing thereâs nothing you can do to change how he feels. âYouâre not a bad person, Logan,â he shakes his head, mumbling something you canât quite catch. âI mean it. What happened back then doesnât define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and Iâll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I canât. Thatâs not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,â gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. âYouâre my hero. Iâm your biggest fanâ after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.â
He grins, letting out a laugh. âEasy there, bub.â
âShould I give you some space?â
Thatâs the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. Thereâs no turning backâ The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. âFor a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldnât stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.â
âAnd what happened?â your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. âWhat changed?â
âI met a pretty girl at a pub, thatâs what happened,â he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. âIâm gonna kiss you now.â
âDo all your kisses come with a warning?â
âGod, do you ever shut up?â
You donât have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.
âSo this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?â he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.Â
âKeep talking and you wonât get a single bite of my tiramisu,â you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. âI really like kissing you.â
âThe feelingâs mutual, but now that youâve mentioned that tiramisuâŚâ
âAm I that easily replaced?â
âNo. Youâre just a pain in the ass.â
Jokes aside, youâre as happy as a clam.
Since that night you and Logan kissed, youâve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.
He hasnât been to the bar in three days. Yes, youâre counting them. No, you havenât lost your mind. You want to see him, but thereâs something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?
Itâs been a long time since youâve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys youâve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasnât no your plans. Youâd be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didnât excite you.
Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two arenât even official yet. To be honest, you donât even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?
âNighty night, gentlemen,â you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so itâs just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.
âWhatâs up, doll? Youâve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,â Garyâs eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but youâve seen worse. âYâknow, Iâd love to take you out someday. I have a place youâd like.â
The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.Â
âIâll let you know when Iâm free,â you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. âWhat are you having tonight?â
âYou always pull that shit, baby. I donât think youâre so busy that you canât accept a date.â
You hate the way heâs looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didnât know any better.
âYouâre reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.â
âOh, doll. That attitude of yours shows youâve never been with a real man like me, thatâs all,â he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. âItâs alright. I like you bratty.â
âIâll be back when you finally have something to order,â you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. âCome on, Gary. I donât want to have to kick you out.â
âItâs not that you don't like me, right? Youâve already got your mouth full.â
âCareful.â
âWhat? Donât tell me youâre not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like âem older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.â
You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. âIt was never about your age, Gary. Youâre right: I do like them older. Iâm just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.â
His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. âFucking bitch.â
âGet your hands off her.â
Loganâs voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that heâs just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.Â
âYou joining us? Weâre just getting started here, big boy.â
âDid you not hear me?â Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Garyâs. âThe fuck is wrong with you?â
âEasy there, cowboy. Iâm just having a chat with your girl. Sheâs one of the good ones, Iâll give you that,â arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. âYou donât like sharing? We can even take turns.â
Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. âSay one more word, and Iâll fucking kill you.â
âIâll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?âÂ
The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Garyâs smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Loganâs fist swings forward, connecting with Garyâs jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. âYou fucker! You broke my nose!â
âWeâre just getting started here, big boy,â Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.
âStop!â you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But heâs beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Garyâs stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.
âThatâs enough, Logan! Heâs barely conscious,â you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what heâs done.
âHe deserved it,â he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. âHe was hurting you.â
âIf you keep that up, youâre going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,â your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. âI wonât let you do this.â
The room is quiet now, the only sound being Loganâs heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Garyâs friends, cold fury in your eyes. âGet him out of here,â you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. âEverybody out, right now! Go home. Weâre closing earlier tonight.â
Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. âBubââ
âDonât. Now is not the time.â
âI was protecting you.â
âI told you to stop, and you didnât. You just shook me off,â you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.
Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. âIâm sorry.â
You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. âWhy didnât you call me?â
âI donât have a phone.â
âButâ Jesus, Logan. You couldâve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,â you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. âThought you no longer wanted me.â
âNo, bub. Iâ I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,â he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. âI just⌠donât know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and Iâm trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.â
âPushing me away also hurts,â your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. âI canât read your mind. You need to tell me whatâs going on in that ancient skull of yours.â
His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. âIâm sorry, princess. I truly am.â
âYou canât just say âsorryâ with that voice and expect me toââ
Youâre cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days.Â
âI thought your kisses came with a warning,â you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.
âShut up and kiss me, will you?â
In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. Youâre becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldnât care less. Loganâs hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.
âYou said you wanted to know whatâs on my mind, right?â his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. âWell, Iâd love nothing more than to touch you right now.â
âRight here? On the counter?â
âYeah, on the fucking counter,â he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. âWill you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?â
âPlease. Iâm glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is tâtoo expensive these days.â
âDo you always talk this much?â he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.
âYes. Next question,â your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. âFuck, that feels good.â
Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. âYou have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,â his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. âBut itâs me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: Iâm the only one who touches you, ainât I right?â you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesnât go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. âNuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?â
âI wâwant your fingers inside me,â you donât even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isnât like them. This is just the beginning and youâre already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. âPlease, Logan. I want you so bad.â
âOh, I know, bub. Thereâs something about me I donât think you know,â he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. âThese claws I have⌠they didnât come on their own. Letâs just say my sense of smell is⌠pretty good,â Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. âAnd you⌠have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,â you feel like youâre being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. âBut youâre so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?â
âToo long, fâfuck. Too long,â youâre squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that youâre still wearing clothes. âShit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.â
His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. âNot here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. Youâre only getting my fingers now,â he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. âTell me who owns this pussy.â
âL-loganââ
âTell me and Iâll make you come,â his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. âCome on. Know you want it as much as I do.â
You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. âItâs you, Logan. You own my pussy. Itâs f-fucking yours.â
With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you.Â
âI said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck⌠I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.â
Heâs on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble.Â
âIâm close,â you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. âIâm so close.â
âThatâs it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.â
Who had given him a damn script for this?
The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesnât let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.
Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: âOpen.â
And you do, because youâre just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way youâve cleaned them off.
âI think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,â he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. âI meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if weâre going to fuck. My backâs hurting.â
You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. âWhy not go to yours?â
âWadeâs in there. I wouldnât be able to concentrate.â
You canât help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. âSo weâre going rodeo?â
Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. âOnly if you can handle it.â
part 2: âGIVE ME THE FIRST TASTEâ
dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)
#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#logan howlett#logan howlett x you#wolverine#wolverine smut#wolverine fic#wolverine fanfiction#deadpool and wolverine#the wolverine#wolverine x men#logan howlett fic#logan howlett smut#logan howlett fanfiction#x men movies#x men#the last of us fanfiction#smut#fluff#wolverpool#deadpool 3#deadpool#logan x reader#logan xmen#logan x you#james logan howlett#hugh jackman#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan wolverine
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literally all i want to do on sukufes2 is play every song that i know on expert and master and then quit and its fighting me at every turn
#not even that fun. does not even want me to play it i guess#also i havent complained about this yet but why the fuck are the rewards for a song shared between the difficulties#on sukufes1 you could get five loveca from full comboing a song on expert and master first try each#(five loveca = 10% of the price of one ten pull)#but on sukufes2 all the difficulties are working towards the same score/combo goals#so you get 60 loveca for first clear; 10 for S rank score; 10 for full combo#(80 loveca = not even 3% of rhe price of one ten pull)#getting all loveca rewards from a song on sukufes2 is worth less than getting the loveca rewards for playing the same song#on sukufes1 on expert Once. this is what i mean by there isnt a lot of free stuff#on sukufes1 you also got one loveca from reading a bond story of which there were literally thousands#but once youve cleared every song on sukufes2 youve pretty much earned everything. this is not a longterm worthwhile game#this event at least i dont think even gives out scouting tickets. like come the fuck on#also the scouting animation was fun the first few times but theres no surprises anymore. theyve lost the feeling of a UR flip..#i definitely feel like the conversion of 1 sukufes1 loveca = 60 sukufes2 loveca was done to obscure how much youre actually earning#all stars was 1 sukufes1 loveca = 10 stars iirc which i forgave bc stars is a different currency#but 1:60 using the same name is actually egregious
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Power Play (Soldier Boy x Reader)
Summary: So, you lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship. It happens all the time. Maybe not quite like this.
Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Crazy ass 80s Vought debauchery. I might be a little rusty, but it was fun getting back into writing readerfics after two monthsđ¤ Do not interact if youâre under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: Power imbalance, cheating (Soldier Boyâs with Crimson Countess). Mentions of drug use. Soldier Boy is his own warning. Sexually explicit content involving elements of forced intox, semi-public sex, breeding kink.
You were dizzy. With Voughtâs investor gala rapidly approaching, you spent the better part of your day camped out in your office, flipping back and forth through your rolodex to call and confirm catering, entertainmentâyou still couldnât believe the board of directors actually approved Duran Duranâs booking feeâand transportation, off the top of your head. You already told Stan Edgar you were taking the following week off, which he had no qualms aboutâso long as the gala went off without a hitch.
You nearly jumped out of your skin when you were interrupted by a knock at your office door, which youâd left open in an effort to be available in the lead up to the event.
âDonât tell me Edgarâs got you working tonight,â Soldier Boy said, walking in when he saw he had your attention.
âThe most important night of the year is less than a week away and I still have a to-do list as long as your dick, so, yeah.â
He huffed out a laugh. âMust be pretty busy then.â
âHow about you? Whereâs Countess?â you asked.
Soldier Boy probably would have sought you out even if Crimson Countess were around, but from what youâd been hearing through Voughtâs extensive grapevine, they were in yet another rough patch. Though, it seemed to you like their relationship was one long, extremely rough patch with some calm once in a blue moon. You werenât afraid to admit to yourself that you ate up the gossip of their relationship like candy, especially when the other members of Paybackâincluding Countess herselfâwould rant to Edgar about it. Since your office was right next to his, and most supes had little to no sense of subtlety, you could hear just about everything.
âSheâs at one of those wildlife charity things, pandas or some bullshit.â He rolled his eyes. âBitched at me because I wouldnât go. She wonât be back until Friday.â
âSoldier Boy, I canât justââ
âSure you can. I mean, Iâm technically your boss too, arenât I?â he asked. âSo, I say thereâs no harm in taking a ten, fifteen minute break. Relieve some stress.â
You sighed. It had been a while since you actually got up from your desk. âAlright. Fifteen minutes, tops.â
He grinned. âNow weâre talking. You keep that minibar stocked?â
âPick your poison.â
âWhiskey?â
âSure.â
At least, you were pretty sure. The minibar in your office served as a nice gesture for the variety of people whoâd come into your office for meetings related to all of the aspects of event planning you were in charge of. Over the past few weeks, though, youâd been reaching for bottles of whatever you could find to relieve the stress. Powdered your nose every so often, but tried not to make that a habitânot that you blamed your coworkers who did. Working at Vought was brutal and demanding, but hell, who else got to work with superheroes? Especially handsome, smarmy assholes who knew just how to fuck the lingering thoughts of any deadline or event planning out of your mind if you played your cards right.Â
He handed you a shot glass. âWhat should we toast to?â
âTo taking next week off.â
âYeah? Whatâve you got planned?â
You threw back your shot. âNothing.â
âThatâs no fun. How does a few days in Miami sound?â
You nearly scoffed. Of course he could make something like that happen on such short notice. For forty years running he was Americaâs superhero and Voughtâs cash cow. After a night of schmoozing at the investor gala, he could very well clear out his schedule and fuck off for a week of sun, sand, and sex, too.
âI might need some convincing.â
âThen make yourself comfortable,â he said, walking back to the minibar to pour another shot for each of you. Almost comical, heâd have to drink the whole bottle and then some to feel the same way you did after two shots.
You glanced at the open door. âSomeone might see.â
âAre you gonna make me repeat myself?â
Sparing the door one more glance, you worked at unbuttoning your blouse, tossing it aside. You shimmied out of your skirt and let it fall to the floor.Â
âHeels stay on,â he said, his back to you. âEverything else off. Everything.â
With a hesitant huff, you unhooked your bra and pulled off your panties, throwing them in his direction when he turned around with the shot glasses. You made yourself comfortable on top of your desk, pushing some of your belongings aside to accommodate you.
He whistled lowly as you quickly finished off the second shot he gave you. âLook at you sitting pretty for me.â His green eyes burned a hole through you, though your gaze was fixed on the prominent bulge in his pants. He brought his shot glass to your lips. âDrink up, sweetheart.â
And you did, forcing the alcohol down as your vision blurred with tears at the unrelenting burning in the back of your throat. Felt some whiskey dripping from the corners of your mouth when you drained the shot glass. He collected the excess from your lips with his thumb, sucking it clean as he kept his eyes locked with yours.
âSee how much fun we have together?â he asked, leaning over you until you laid back on top of your desk. âCould do that all next week.â
He kissed you, hard and mean like you needed him to. Perfect teeth that caught your bottom lip between them for a moment before releasing. Whiskey on his tongue that went to your head even though you knew he could hardly feel it. Rough hands feeling up your breasts, giving your nipples a harsh tug that made you moan in his mouth.
âYouâre soaked,â he said, his voice husky as he rubbed his fingers between your slick folds with tantalizingly slow strokes. âIf you wanted it, all you had to do was ask.â
âFuck,â you whispered.
âWhat was that?âÂ
You groaned in frustration. âJust fuck me already.â
âDonât have to tell me twice.âÂ
His mouth was on yours again, nearly distracting you from the sound of a zipper, the your gut clenching in anticipation as he pulled his cock from his pants.
Itâd been a while since you had to brace yourself to take him, but you were wet, and maybe a little more than tipsy, so your body gave little resistance when he slid his cock inside you. Though, if Soldier Boy were anything, it was a guy who took what he wanted anyway, giving you hardly a second to get used to the feeling of how his cock stretched your pussy before he was pounding into you with harsh, unforgiving thrusts that made you grip the edge of your desk.Â
Sometimes you forgot how strong he was. Hell, so did he, and there was little else you could do but lay there and take what he gave you. In all honesty, it was nice letting someone else take charge after having to hold it together all day. Let him fuck the stress out of you and replace it with all the aches and bruises that came with having sex with the strongest man on earth.Â
âHarder,â you forced out, pushing that damn rolodex onto the floor.
âI go any harder, Iâm gonna break you in half, and I donât wanna do that until Iâve got you locked away in a hotel room for a week.â
âWhat are you gonna do to me?â
âWhatever the fuck I want. Not like I donât already.â
You moaned. ���Soldier Boyââ
âIâm not pulling out, so you better be on the pill or say your damn prayers,â he growled, his hot breath kissing your skin. You were on the pill, but nevertheless your hips bucked at his words, pussy clenching around his cock. âOh shit, you want that, donât you?â
âYesâoh my god!â you cried out, muscles cramping as your orgasm pulsed through you, pleasure stealing your breath, choking you gently enough to leave you dizzy. âYesyesyesâfuck!â Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was going to explode in your chest, especially as he kept mercilessly pounding into you, chasing his own release.Â
He soon came with a groan, his cock twitching inside you as he bottomed out, practically knocking the wind out of you with a particularly hard thrust.Â
You felt empty and sticky when he pulled out, and you didnât want to think about the poor soul who was gonna be cleaning the mess you and him left behind the following morning, because you sure as hell werenât in any shape to clean up the cum that was leaking out of you and onto the floor.
You put your hands on your chest, trying to catch your breath as he stood over you. The guy hardly broke a sweat, and you felt like you just ran the New York City Marathon. Super stamina. God fucking bless America.
âHey,â he said, waving his hand in front of your face. âYou good?â
âSure,â you managed to answer. âExcept now I donât know how Iâm gonna walk out of here, let alone get home later.â
âThe ride up to the 99th is quicker. And if you need more convincing about Miamiââ
You pursed your lips, considering the work you still had left to do before you could reasonably call it a night. But you were tired, and admittedly drunk, and Soldier Boy was already hard again. âI might.â
#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy the boys#the boys x reader#the boys#the boys amazon#the boys tv#the boys soldier boy#the boys imagine#soldier boy imagine#soldier boy smut#im a feminist i promise#but do you ever think about how that man could literally break you in half if he wanted to?
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Queer discourse on this site of fun cause it just turns into mostly White Queers just saying the same things over and over and no one is capable of understanding nuance or willing to consider the others point of view cause they're more concerned with "winning" the argument. Which is stupid and pointless because arguing is for idiots.
Y'all know we're on the same side right? There's no point in having discussions over 'who the most oppressed' is when it's obviously black and brown queer people, especially transfem black women.
This is a fact.
Do y'all even remember back in the late 2010's when the only time "transgender" or "transfem" trended n this site was when another black or brown sister was killed?
Do y'all even care about them? I've seen tons of posts for Pauly Likens which is great, but where's the outrage for Shannon Boswell, shot to death in the street while police denied said shooting even happened? What about Tayy Thomas and River Goddard, just children who were killed by their partners? Where's your rage for TK Hill, shot outside his hair salon? Or AfricĂĄ GarciĂĄ, homeless and shot to death in a dirty street.
Last year 320 trans people were killed. Three-hundred and fucking twenty.
Of those deaths, 94% of them were transfem/ trans women and over 80% were black and brown people. Many were sex workers or homeless. Lots of them were degendered by the media and police in death. Even more deaths are unreported either due to degendering or their bodies not being found. So many of these people (again, mostly black and brown transfem's) are violated and horrifically tortured by their tormentors.
If your discussion of transphobia doesn't include black and trans people, if you cannot recognize this simple fact, then you're no ally to the trans community.
Community means you look out and support those that are the most vulnerable; it means you show the fuck up and speak the fuck up when you hear racist shit. It means you ABSOLUTELY DO NOT call the cops on a homeless person, it means you look out for those that have less than you, the disadvantaged and disenfranchised. White queers have white privilege! We still benefit from our whiteness (especially in the US) so fucking use that shit!
Get your heads outta your asses and actually be a part of your community instead of whinging and whining and wringing your hands helplessly while ignoring the ACTUAL dangers trans people face.
I'm gonna close this with a quote from a friend of Ăfrica GarciĂĄ that perfectly encapsulates how the world views transfem's.
âA lot of trans women are on the streets and are made invisible because many people believe that their lives are worthless,â LeQueen, a trans artist and friend of GarcĂaâs, told the paper. âThey donât give them the âspotlightâ that they deserve, and those men take advantage of that. They think, If I kill her here, no one is going to care.â
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I hate you, until I don't
[spencer reid x reader]
summary: three times you annoyed Spencer and three times Spencer annoyed you, proving the two of you cannot stand each other. . . until the one time that there was less annoyance and more sexual tension.Â
pairing: s.reid x readerÂ
w.c:Â 3.6K
warnings/content: inaccurate medical procedures (don't come for me); language; flirting; enemies to lovers; case-related violence; suggestive content (no smut but I'm classifying this as +16).
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âââââââââÂ
[The Coffee]Â
Smoke should be coming out of his ears by now, from the way his neck is pink and you're sure he's also got his jaw clenched by how his furiously he's writing on the board, connecting the leads. Â
You've been fifteen minutes out of the room and Spencer has figure out the whole case. Â
âWhy are you so angry?âÂ
âI'm not angry.âÂ
You do not need to be a profiler to know he had that answer on the tip of his tongue, ready to give the excuse to someone who asked the inevitable question. Right, you're not gonna fall for that. Â
âUm. Okay.âÂ
Spencer clicks the pen twice before you settle beside him, perching your hip against the table. His tongue travels across his lips slowly, he's trying to focus but can't. Â
You don't know the reason. It could be a thousand things given that the local police you were working with have not been exactly welcoming to the FBI butting in on their case. Some cops acted hostile towards the team, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. Â
By handling it you meant switching your focus to something better: Reid. You both draw limits to be around each other. It's nothing personal (maybe?) but you just don't get along as you do with the rest of the team. That doesn't mean you don't work well together in the field, no. In 80% of field work, you have Spencer by your side exchanging ideas to come up with good conclusions. The other 20% is the time apart you require to breathe away from each other. Â
You don't hate him. If anyone hates Spencer Reid, they just might have to do a CT scan, that man doesn't have a single bad bone in his skinny body. Â
You, however, have a field day while annoying him. Though you're not particularly close, you throw harmless jabs at one another once in a while. Â
You are bored and Spencer is here, therefore...Â
âI'm not angry.â His tone is final as he lets his eyes fall on you to look back to the board. The crease between his brows deepens. You tilt your head curiously. You don't really care about what got him mad, though it is an interesting fact to see him actually pissed about something. It's a rare image. âNot angry at all.âÂ
You kick his converse playfully, standing up fully. âI said okay, honey. You don't need to jump on my neck for it.âÂ
Spencer rolls his eyes, clicking the pen three times this time. You watch his fingers clenching and unclenching around the pen. Â
âDon't call me honey.â Â
Blinking up at him innocently, you turn around and say, âsure, honey. I'm gonna go and grab some coffee.â You raise your index finger before leaving the room, interrupting him mid-speech. âFor me only, of course.âÂ
His mug was empty, you had seen as you walked into the room. He had dawned three of those already so of course you said that because you care about his health. Obviously. His scoff as you leave is the icing on the cake.Â
By the time he finishes the geographic profile, he finds his mug magically refilled with freshly brewed coffee.Â
âââââââââÂ
[The Ambulance]Â
âIf you had listened to meââÂ
âDon't you even fucking start. I have a gash on my forehead. My arm is numb and my knee is throbbing. You really think is wise to come in here and tell me I told you so? Disappear from my sight, now.âÂ
Those words seem to go on deaf ears because he proceeds to crouch down to survey the damage on your face the paramedic is already assessing. His gaze barely falling on yours until it fixates on your head injury, amber eyes narrowing slightly as they usually did while he is concentrated and is about to sputter out some incredibly intelligent fact. Â
He does exactly that. Â
âShe should have an X-ray of her neck. She's been flinching every time you're turning her head. And a CT scan, she was also hit in the head with aââÂ
You groan, not sure if it is because of the stitches or just deep-rooted anger towards your coworker. Â
âGodâ can you please...â You give a begging look to the paramedic, who seems to be having too much fun by the lifted corners of her mouth.Â
ââ blunt object. Actually, you should be kept for observation for the entire night. Two days if possible.â He glances up at you, who presses your eyes shut instead of glaring, uncomfortable with the way the paramedic touches the sensitive spot on your neck. When you open them again, he's offering her a look of victory.Â
âShut up, Reid.âÂ
âIt's a good idea.â The woman says for your distaste. Of course it is. Of course you agree with him.Â
âNo, it isn't. I have a flight to catch to get back home and sleep on my comfortable bed, I do not need hospitals or needles or blood.â You intervene, mentally dreading to spend the night alone at a hospital in a city you have never visited.Â
âDo you have space for one more?â He questions suddenly, eyeing the inside of the ambulance. Your eyes widen at the implications of his actions. Before you have the chance to smash his head against the floor, he has already climbed into the ambulance, sitting comfortably in a corner. Â
You stare in disbelief. The paramedic isn't hiding her amusement anymore. she's outright laughing.Â
âHim? Not coming,â you say with finality, aggressively climbing into the ambulance, limping, to lie down on the stretcher. Â
However, he does come, rubbing in your face the whole way to the hospital about how right he was about the situation and that you shouldn't throw yourself in danger at any chance you get. Â
Hypocrite, as if he didn't do the same thing.Â
âââââââââÂ
[The Book]Â
âDid you just skip to the end?â Spencer's voice laces with disbelief as he stares holes into the book between your fingers as if you have committed a heinous crime. Â
You glance up from him and back to the book briefly. âNo?âÂ
âYou're an FBI Agent, you should know by now not to answer a question with a question.âÂ
âYou're an FBI Agent with three PhDs, you should know by now how rude it is to interrupt one's reading.â You send the jab as quick as he had thrown his, rolling your eyes.Â
âThat doesn't apply if you're skipping to the end of the bookââÂ
You sigh, tired. âI have to see if the process is worth it.âÂ
âWhat?â Spencer shrieks out, switching his gaze from the book to you repeatedly. You press your lips shut, trying to suppress a smile. âWhat is that supposed to mean? You're supposed to enjoy and get surprised, not know everythingââÂ
âI'll forget about the end if I start reading it.â Which is true, if you read one part of the story without the context from the previous pages, then your mind just wipes it out as you come back to where you were. You had a bad memory of story plots.Â
Spencer proceeds to get more offended by each word that comes out of your mouth.Â
âNo.âÂ
You let yourself chuckle this time. âWhat do you meanâhey!â You hiss as he yanks the book out of your hands, shutting it and hiding it behind him as some kid that's trying to hide his favorite toy so others won't find it. âGive it back, Spencer!âÂ
âYou have to promise me to not read the end.âÂ
âI don't have to promise you anything.âÂ
âYou want this back?â He waves the book in his hands. Your book. He threatens you with your book.Â
You gape at him, then huff petulantly, crossing your arms like a toddler. To anyone who was watching, the both of you looked a lot like children bickering in the park. âFine.â He offers you a skeptical gaze, narrowing his eyes with a slight scrunch of his nose and you can't help your reaction, really. Your lips twitch in a smile and you bite your cheek so hard it draws blood so you stop being stupid. Â
He gives you your book back and pointedly studies your figure as you read, making sure you do not, in fact, skip to the end of the book.Â
Spencer Reid is absolutely infuriating. No matter how cute he is.Â
âââââââââÂ
[The Drunk Confession]Â
âI would've gotten a divorce if you were my secret lover.â You tell Emily with a slurred speech caused by the seven shots and two margaritas â maybe three, you stopped counting at the fourth shot. The table erupts in laughter at your claim. âNo doubt.âÂ
Emily smirks at you, leaning as close as she can across from you, Luke is watching the exchange as if on a tennis match. Garcia slaps his shoulder. Â
âEvery. Time.â JJ mumbles with a roll of her eyes, turning to Spencer who looks bored out of his mind. âDon't you get tired of seeing them flirting every time they get drunk? It's getting old.âÂ
Spencer shrugs, a scowl setting on his face as he glances at you and Emily. He looks away. Â
âJust ask her out, for god's sake.â Â
JJ almost spits her drink. âWhat?â Â
Spencer rolls his eyes, âyou. Emily. Date. Do it.â He doesn't really feel like repeating himself again. Spencer doesn't know why he's so annoyed all of a sudden.Â
âWell, why don't you do it?â JJ snaps, narrowing her eyes at him, who blinks at her. âYeah, ask her out instead of judging me like that.âÂ
âNo offense, but I don't see Emily that way.âÂ
âOf course you don't and I'm not talking about Emily, Spencer,â JJ says pointedly. âYou know I'm not.âÂ
It doesn't take long for all of you to call it a night. The sober ones, at least, because the rest could stay until the morning without complaining, driving themselves to an alcoholic coma. That would have been your case. Fortunately, it isn't. Â
And now, Spencer is in charge of driving you home against his will because you live close by. Â
Great. Â
âI can put on my own seatbelt, thanks.â You frown as he lifts his hand to help you put the seatbelt on. He retracts it with a roll of eyes. Â
âBe my guest.âÂ
âYeah,â you mumble quietly, leaning your head back and closing your eyes as you feel the car being turned on. âDon't worry, m' not gonna puke in your car or whatever.âÂ
Spencer freezes on his way to changing gears. âAre you feeling sick?âÂ
âI just told youââÂ
He rolls his eyes, âI just meant that driving may make it worse, so if you want, we can wait and then I'll take you home.â Â
You open one eye to narrow him down suspiciously. It wasn't that bad. You just had drink a lot, and your body is having a completely normal reaction, though it was a bit annoying. But you don't think you're about to throw up. Â
âCareful, you almost sound like you care about my well-being.âÂ
Spencer drove off the parking lot with a huff, âsure. If you do puke in my car I'll leave you alone in the middle of the avenue.âÂ
A hiccup came out at the same time as your laugh and it ended up turning into a snort, which was not that graceful and you quickly covered your mouth. Â
He gave you a sideways glance and you told him to keep driving, ignoring the twitch on his lips you thought you saw. No, that was definitely not there.Â
âYou would never do that to me.âÂ
âTry me.âÂ
âI can't believe I had a thing for you.âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
He almost had the urge to hit on the brakes but controlled himself. You hummed, watching the trees move as the car drove past them in the avenue. You rolled your window down, leaning your face outside a little, scrunching your nose when droplets of rain poked your nose.Â
"Oh, it's gonna rain."Â
"It's already raining- what do you mean you had a thing for me? What does that mean?"Â
"Are you nervous?"Â
"What- No!" He shifted his attention between the road and you quickly.Â
You nodded, pretending you believed him and folding your arms across your chest as you leaned back on the seat, closing the car window so you wouldn't get wet. Â
âYou're kinda my type, Spencer.âÂ
âI'm- I'm your typeâ what does that mean?â He insisted and you rolled your eyes with a groan, you wished you were drunker than this.Â
â... pretty boy with pretty brown eyes ... smart as hell and has a questionable sense of style. C'mon. It's like you're begging me to fall in love with you." You cleared your throat. "I had a crush on you, as in the past sense."Â
Spencer squinted. "You just spoke in the present tense-"Â
"Yeah, I knew you were going to focus on that, leave me alone, I'm drunk."Â
He pressed his lips together to avoid laughing at your expense. Â
"Right."Â
How come he never noticed it? He couldn't stop thinking about it. Â
âAre you still thinking about it?âÂ
Spencer turned on your street, biting his cheek. âNo.âÂ
âWhy not?â Â
He spun his neck to look at you and almost drove into the sidewalk, which made you huff out a laugh. Â
âCareful, genius. You might crash us because you figure out somebody has a crush on you.âÂ
Spencer scoffed, turning the engine off to glance at you in disbelief. âAre you serious? You just spoke in the present tense again.âÂ
Shrugging, you leaned back on the seat, sideways to stare at him, a little smile playing on your lips because you were enjoying the banter too much. Â
âDid I?âÂ
âYes.â he frowned and his nose scrunched in the cutest way possible you just felt like biting it. Â
âIt started when I saw you in glasses.â You admitted, nails scratching against your jeans distractedly. âYou were like a knock-off Peter Parker, just cuter and way more attractive.âÂ
He scowled at you but you were able to see the clear pink cheeks he had acquired upon being called attractive. You weren't lying. The biggest lie and cruelty of this world was that Spencer Reid wasn't looked at twice by girls or boys. You would've been fanning over him at high school.Â
âYou're mocking me,â he concluded.Â
You denied with a hum from deep within your throat. âNu-huh. I'm not.âÂ
His eyes analyse every micro expression of your face and you stare as he does so. His lips twitch before he speaks and your eyes fall on them.Â
âWe're here.âÂ
He chose to say instead, his brain on slow thinking mode as you stared at him like you were contemplating something in your head.Â
âYou want me to go?âÂ
Spencer blinks up at you, big brown eyes wide as a deer caught in headlights, the corner of your mouth lifts upwards slightly.Â
âWhat do you mean? I gave you a ride.â He replied, confusedly. âDo you need help to go up to your apartment? Are you dizzy?âÂ
âNot dizzy.â You shifted, pulling your knees up to hold them. Shoes off ever since you entered his car. âIt was just a question.âÂ
âAre you testing me?âÂ
You tilted your head, causing a few strands of your hair to be released from behind your ear as you rummaged through his glove box. A book â of course there was a book in there â, a lens cleaner spray â you wondered if he still used his glasses, just not on the field â, two hair ties â you lift a brow at that â and lastly, his license and vehicle registration â you smile at the picture. He snatched it out of your hand to pull it back on the glove box and close it. Â
âWhy would I be testing you?âÂ
âTo make fun of me.âÂ
Your eyes narrowed in slits. Â
âI don't like making fun of people, less alone you.âÂ
Spencer held your stare for a hot second before he leaned back on his seat with a sigh. Â
You poked his hip, laughing when he jumped in surprise. Â
âYou're so cute.âÂ
âStop that.âÂ
âCalling you cute or tickling you?âÂ
âBoth!â He shrieked out, holding your hand as you attempted to tickle him again. You adjusted yourself on the seat, studying the way he seemed intrigued by your hand. Or the fact he hadn't let go of it. âI can help you up to your apartment, â he said after a moment of silence, something stirring in his stomach at the way you were looking at him. Â
"You want to help me up to my apartment?" Now you are just riling him up for the sake of it. You hold his hand before he can let go of yours, a smirk dancing around your lips. "Sorry, I'll stop."Â
"You're so annoying,"Â Â
"You think so?" Your voice is low, careful. You lean forward slightly.Â
"Yes," he says with uncertainty. He lifts his other hand slowly, brushing your hair behind your ear because it kept falling on your cheek. Â
Your throat feels dry all of a sudden, and you swallow hard, shivering as his fingers trail down your cheek. "Spencer."Â
"Mhm?" He's not paying attention to what you're saying, too busy entranced by your lips to do anything else. You just wish he'd pull both of you out of your misery. Since he doesn't move, you take matters into your own hands and break the gap between the two of you. His breath halts and he takes one or two seconds to reciprocate the kiss, lips parting in surprise. You bask in the effect that you have on him before he pulls you in by the back of your neck and it's your turn to react surprised by his actions. Your back arches and a sound of contentment escapes your throat when his fingers press against your thigh. Â
You're straddling his lap in no time, his hands all over your body. You lower your lips to his neck, nibbling at his skin, satisfied with the moan he lets out in response to your touch. Â
Spencer says your name once. Twice. It's the third time that you actually hear him. Â
"What?"Â
"You're drunk," he breathes out, chest going up and down unsteadily. "We should- we should stop."Â
"I'm not drunk." You tilt your head, tracing his swollen lower lip with your thumb. Â
He chuckles nervously, grabbing your hands to pull it away from his neck and his neck so he could think straight for five minutes. "You are. You taste like tequila."Â
"Mhm, is that so?"Â
He groans, eyes dropping shut. "Don't do that."Â
Your smile widens into a menacing grin. Â
"Do what, genius?"Â
"This. You. You know what you're doing." Spencer insists half-heartedly, eyes fluttering open to stare at you. He can't help but stare down at your lips again, letting out a sigh. Â
Finally, your shoulders slump in dissatisfaction as you realize he wouldn't want to go forward as long as you have an ounce of alcohol in your blood. Â
"Who's annoying now?" You mumble, burying your head on his shoulders. His fingers trail up and down your bare arms, his hands then settle on your hip, drawing invisible circles there. You feel his lips press against the crown of your head. "You're gonna be the death of me," you whine, wrapping both arms around his middle. Spencer shakes with a chuckle and you smile into his skin. Â
There is no going back from this. You either screwed up your professional relationship or just initiated something really good. Â
You don't know which one is worse.Â
He goes up to your floor with you and you expect him to say goodbye as you step out of the elevator. He follows you to your door and finds the key in your purse that you had spent more than a minute trying to find it. Â
"You want to stay over?" You eye him, trying to sound nonchalant but in reality, you are expecting a yes. Â
It's not what you get.Â
"No." You conclude you screwed up your whole dynamic. He holds your wrist before you walk in and leave him in the hallway, pulling you back and cupping your cheek to press his lips to yours in a rather gentle and less frantic kiss than the ones you had just shared in the car. "Ask me when you're not drunk," he mumbles into your lips and you frown when he withdraws himself from you. Â
You understand his reasoning, but that doesn't mean you enjoy the thought of spending the night without him, finishing what you started. Â
"Will you want to stay over then?"Â
Spencer knows what you mean. You're asking if he will want to stay over after tonight, after the moment has passed and it's another day, or if he wants to forget and pretend it never happened. Â
"Yes." He doesn't hesitate, kissing your forehead before he takes a step back, ready to leave but not wanting to with the image of you leaning against your doorway, face slightly flushed after your make-out session. "Goodnight."Â
You munch on your lower lip, opening the door to go inside. He waits for you to close it but you walk out again, his eyes widening as you pull him into another kiss. Just as he's about to place his hands on your waist, you pull back, patting his chest. Â
"You're still annoying." You say, stepping back to enter your apartment, leaving him completely unresponsive in the middle of your hallway for a few minutes. Â
God, he hates you. Â
âââââââââÂ
taglist: @lilyviolets ; @whore-for-spencer-reid ; @yeonalie @ninkieminjaj ; @hoeshissworld ; @r-3dlips ; @pleasantwitchgardenÂ
#criminal minds fanfiction#reader insert#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#self insert
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~ Dirty Hobby ~
roommate!werewolf x afab!reader - roommates to lovers, sexual frustration, (slightly) dub-con, dry humping/frottage, thigh job, impact play, cum play, degradation kink if you squint
3,4k.
Writing stories is a lot of fun. It's a passion for you, something you enjoy doing in your spare time, but you also see it as a way to release emotions that would otherwise weigh on you. Typically, you prefer romance although your stories always end up being far spicier than anticipated. That may reveal something about you, specifically that you need a good fucking, but staying at home all the time and never socializing with anyone doesn't pair well with being sexually active. Last time you let a not-fictitious being fuck you must have been not less than 80 stories ago; 5k words each, mind you.
The only non-fictitious being you interact with on a daily basis is your roommate, Alexis, also known as the 'good boy'. You call him that on occasion simply because you love the way his long fluffy tail eagerly wiggles back and forth, in stark contrast to the grimace he always gives you in answer to your playful mocking. He's also a 'good boy' because he never caused you any trouble in the six months you've been sharing a flat. He is clean, not nosy or noisy, and rarely invites people over, which is a huge plus for you.
Another major benefit of having Alexis as a roommate is that you basically have a living, breathing prototype for the protagonists in your works of fiction. Perhaps it sounds weird, but you've used him as the base of the love interests in your romances more times than you probably should have... Does that imply that you're in love with him? No! Well, not exactly. You could say you are attracted to him. You enjoy his presence, his massive presence, as well as his grave but sweet voice, his kind eyes, his long snout that screams 'pat me! pat me!', his long muscular arms that could so effortlessly sweep you up and...
Anyway. You like the dude. As in, he's a good friend who also happens to be very good to look at. You've done your best to separate him from the dozens of characters he has inspired thus far, and you'd like to keep it that way. Separate. Luckily, he is unaware of your⌠recreational activity. And he'll never know about it.
However, while your mind has managed to make things feel acceptable and not as odd as they actually are, what your body does is a very different story. Writing erotica has an undeniable impact on the writer, especially if you're describing fantasies you've indulged in far too many times before. What that entails for you is that you're aroused on a regular basis. And the fact that the character from your stories is walking around the house, chatting with you and parading around the very assets you fawn over in your wildest dreams makes it even more difficult for your body to remain partial... Makes things all the more wet, to be precise. Yes. Sometimes it's so uncomfortable that you have to take care of it right away, cleaning up and changing your underwear before returning to your chores. Other times, you just get on with your day despite your damp panties. You're used to it by now, so it's not a major issue for youâŚ
It's a major fucking problem for your roommate, though. You have absolutely no idea. You can't even begin to imagine how challenging it is for a werewolf like him to ignore the scent trail you leave behind wherever you move inside the house. It's actually maddening! A torture! If he didn't know you better, he'd assume you were doing it on purpose just to drive him nuts. He tried to remain unaffected, to suppress his urges, but weeks after weeks after weeks, your scent became all he could smell inside the house, inside his own bedroom; even the food tasted like you! He considered moving out, to avoid the risk of doing something he would definitely regret. He does not want to hurt you, of course. It could be a situation beyond your control or a health issue. What does he know? What he knows is that he can't handle it anymore! He can't focus on anything else but your sweet mouthwatering fragrance that makes him hard all the fucking time. He ought to do something about it. He needs to! Before he loses his mind completely.
He's oh so very close to losing it when he barges into your bedroom one evening while you're tapping away on your keyboard, as usual. The sudden bang of your door being forced open makes you jump on your seat, and your eyes instantly snap to him. They widen in shock at the sight of his disheveled state; his shirt is unbuttoned all the way down to his hips, his belt unfastened and the zip of his jeans is halfway down, making his enormous bulge stand out even more. You divert your gaze from it as soon as possible, locking eyes with his instead. But his gaze is no better. His pupils are dilated, and he stares at you as though you're a piece of raw meat. He has never looked so feral before.
âA-Alexis?â
He growls in response, his legs twitching as if heâs ready to pounce on you, but instead he moves his clawed hands to his head and runs them through his ruffled fur in a calming gesture, one youâve seen him do before whenever he got a bit too fired up.
âI canât take it anymore-â he rasps, taking a deep breath before fixing his piercing stare on you again. âWhatever it is, you need to take care of it. As soon as possible.â
His words donât make any sense to you. What should you take care of? Did you forget to take out the trash today? What day is it? No, itâs a tuesday, itâs his turn-
âDid you hear me?â
His voice genuinely rattles you, youâve never heard him sound so upset before. You must have really pissed him off somehow.
âIâm sorry, I have no idea what youâre talking about-âÂ
He doesnât seem to hear your answer though, for he starts to move his snout back and forth, from one side of your room to the other, sniffling as if something has suddenly caught his attention. A deep puzzled frown emerges on your face as you watch him step further inside your room, scoping his surroundings like a hound searching for a bone, until he comes to a halt in front of your wardrobe and slams it open without asking for permission.
âWhat are you doing?â
He ignores the hint of apprehension in your voice and starts to rummage through your clothes so carelessly that you fear he will tear them all to shreds.Â
âAlexis! What the heck-!â
He growls in frustration, his clawed hands finding purchase on the cabinet door frame, causing the wood to creak under his grip. You can't see his face since he's still buried deep inside your wardrobe, but you can clearly hear his frantic sniff sniff sniff as he obstinately pursues the source of the smell that apparently irritates him so much he turns into a literal beast.Â
Youâre unsure whether to approach him in this state or just wait for him to put an end to whateverâs happening, but before you can come to a conclusion, Alexis crouches down with a satisfied huff and pulls back from the wardrobe withâŚ
"My dirty laundry�"
You give him an odd look as he drops the basket on the floor in front of you. Is this the source of the smell that bothered him? But there's no foul odor coming from it, at least not one that you can smell. There's not much inside after all, only a towel and...
Your eyes widen as Alexis reaches out with his hand and grabs a pair of dirty undies from the basket, instantly sending your face blushing with heat and your stomach flipping in embarrassment.
"Wha-! P-Put that back!" You stutter, clearly flustered, attempting to steal your underwear from his grasp, but he quickly moves them out of your reach, bringing them to his nose and taking a good sniff. Your face turns even more red at the sight.
"This." he growls, peering down at the fabric, his gaze fixated on the still damp patch sitting in the center. "This is the problem."
You're too mortified to argue with him about it, so you quickly blurt out, "I'm washing it right away, okay? Now give it back!" as you reach out again, only for him to jerk his arm away a second time.
"No. You do not understand. It's not just today," he says, clutching your underwear in his palm and piercing you with his golden eyes. âItâs everyday. Everywhere. I can only smell this.â
Oh.
Oh.
So⌠all this time⌠he could smell yourâŚ
Shock roots you to the spot. Youâre left gaping at him, lips moving yet no sound comes out of your mouth. You had no idea. You didnât even think about it. If you knew, maybe you could have refrained from writing so much, every damn day⌠You could have gone to a cafè instead of staying at home⌠Or you could have at least been a tad more careful-
"What's got you so worked up every fucking moment?" he asks, huffing in exasperation and looking around your room as if seeking the root of your problem, until his gaze settles on your desk. "You're always on your computer, tapping on that damned keyboard. I can hear you from my own room. You've got a long distance relationship or something?"
"IâŚIâm sorry. I d-didnât mean to uhh⌠upset you?â You fumble over your words, struggling to find an appropriate response to this ridiculous and surreal circumstance, while simultaneously stepping back in front of the computer to hide it from his observant eye. "This won't happen again... Alright?"
His brow raises in interest, ears perking up and golden eyes peering into yours. You're sure he can tell how nervous you are. Gosh, you know now he must also be able to smell how shamefully aroused you are at the chance of being caught, your secret dirty hobby being exposed.
"Whatcha hiding, mh?" he taunts, taking a step closer, amusement and vexation mixing in a lethal combo. He cranes his neck to look behind you, but you're too close to the screen for him to catch a glimpse of it. "A secret lover? I'll grant you permission to let them come over. Maybe that will help you."
You're physically shaking with both dread and excitement, your wide eyes locked on his face, your hands reaching out to shove him back. Your stomach flips as you realize your palms have made contact with the fur on his chest and heat instantly pools in your abdomen when you spot the dilation of his pupils; they get so wide his golden irises almost disappear.
Before you have any chance to avoid it, he has you imprisoned against his body, his palm wrapped around the back of your neck, burying your face in his chest while he bends over to your computer. Your complaints are muffled by his fur, and your hands clutching at his sides are merely giving him a massage. There's nothing you can do against him. He is too big and strong... and warm, and soft, and he smells like fresh grass after rainfall. Oh, itâs even better than what you imaginedâŚ
You feel his muscles tense up around you just a moment before a loud bark of hearty laughter erupts from him, rumbling in his chest against your cheek and pulling you out of your reveries.
âHunterâs Moon! Thatâs what youâve been doing all along?â He pulls you back by tugging at your hair, his eyes full of mirth - and maybe a hint of mockery - as he stares down at you. âThatâs what makes you so wet all the time that I canât fucking breathe?â
âT-Thatâs not-!â
You're so ashamed that you'd rather combust into millions of particles and disappear right now. But there's also that wicked part of you that is pleased to hear you've had such a profound effect on him with your scent. The same side that relishes the way he's holding your hair, looking down at you, and laughing.
âYou want a beast to fuck you?â
The way he spits out those words makes you shudder, and all you can do is stare up at him, astonished. His other hand moves to your face, grazing the outline of your cheek with the back of his clawed fingers, making your taut body shiver even more, your stomach doing somersaults. He can certainly feel it. He can see the desire wallowing in your wide shiny eyes. And it excites him.Â
âOh, sweetie. You could have just said so.â
And with that, he has your heart bursting downright out of your chest as he twists you around and bends you onto your desk, your fingers grasping the edge, your head almost colliding with your computer's screen. His hand pushes on the small of your back, causing your body to arch and your bottom to stick out. You feel his erection push against your jeans, directly against the crack of your ass, as he bends over you, his hot breath brushing the shell of your ear.
âWho would have thought you were so naughtyâŚâ he whispers slowly, voice laced with amusement. "Writing about werewolves ravishing youâŚ" His free hand creeps over your hip and slides towards your belly. "Destroying your little human holesâŚ" His fingers creasing and raising the thin fabric of your tee as they dig into the soft flesh of your abdomen, steadily crawling lower. He laughs again, blowing warm air into your skin when he notices you whimpering quietly and trembling under his touch.Â
âIsnât that what you write about, mh? Why don't you read it for me?"
Your eyes widen, and you meet his amused look with a shiver that runs down your spine and lands between your thighs. He gives you a wolfish grin before nudging your head with his snout and turning it towards the screen. "C'mon. Read it."
You can't think clearly, let alone focus on the text on the white screen. Your heart is racing and the heat in your lower abdomen is becoming unbearable. If only he moved his fingers lower to offer you just a little relief...
âStart from the line that says how the beast rips your pants apart⌠That sounds like fun.â
Youâre panting so hard already and heâs barely touched you. You have to swallow a couple of times to clear your throat and moisten your dry mouth before youâre able to speak again. But even then your voice comes out shaky and subdued as you start reading your own wicked fantasies out loud.
â...he groped the round sphere of her ass, massaging her flesh as if to prepare her for what was about to come-â
You yelp as you feel both his palms land on your ass, groping you over the fabric of your pants.
âKeep going. Donât leave me hangingâŚâ he croons teasingly in your ear, giving your cheeks a squeeze as an incentive.
You take a shuddering breath and then exhale, hoping to calm your frenzied heartbeat - as if thatâs possible in a situation like this - and resume reading from where you left off.
â...a loud gasp of shock escaped her lips when his hands pulled at her pants and ripped the fabric apart as if it was made of paper-â
And with that, your pants are gone too, leaving only a few bits of fabric hanging around your thighs. You donât even care about your clothes right now, you just want him to take you. You need him. You want him so badly.Â
His claws run along your panties, purposefully missing the wet spot sitting right at the center. Your legs weakly buckle in protest.
âWhat about these? What happens to her soaked panties?â
âRipped apart as well.â you answer forthwith, pushing your ass back to seek more friction and thus sending him laughing at your eagerness.
His fingers coil around the fabric's edges, yanking at it as if ready to tore it, only to let go and snap the elastic band against your skin.
"Nah. I think I'll keep them on for now," he muses, his voice still cracking with amusement as if he's thoroughly enjoying torturing you and driving you insane.
Your indignant cry rapidly turns into a shocked gasp as you feel something long and hard shove against your panties-clad folds. When you look down, your jaw falls at the sight of his huge throbbing cock stroking against your cunt back and forth, its dark pink skin already glistening with your juices dropping through your drenched underwear.
"So wetâŚ" he croons, nestling his face in the crook of your neck. His moist nose brushes against your boiling hot skin, giving you chills. "So wet for me."
He keeps moving against you, maddeningly slowly, making you quiver with both pleasure and desperation. Breathy whimpers and moans fall from your parted lips, mirroring the rhythm of his thrusts.
"A-Alexis⌠pleaseâŚ"
Youâre begging him to fuck you. He knows that. It's so obvious. It pleases him greatly, yet he won't let your precious little cries deter him from his own plans. His movements almost come to a halt as his warm, wet tongue slides out of his mouth and licks the side of your neck.
âYouâve driven me mad for months.â he growls in your ear, frustration once more edging his tone. His hands eagerly reach for your thighs and push them together to squeeze his cock between your soft flesh. You moan in response, surprised and satisfied by the additional friction, although still frustrated by the emptiness you feel inside you, with your walls clenching desperately around nothing.Â
âNow itâs my turn.â
A jolt of pleasure strikes your core as his arms wrap around your middle and he starts to buck his hips against your ass at a punishing pace, rocking your whole body with such force that youâd be slamming against the desk if he wasnât holding onto you like a vice.
You whine and mewl ever louder, the knot in your lower belly tightening at an alarming rate. Your hands grasp onto his strong arms, fingers tangling in his fur, while your head bobs feverishly upon his shoulder.
âA-Alexis⌠I-I'm- Iâm!â
His moist nose taps on your neck, tongue lapping at your skin, as his cock keeps on bullying your poor swollen folds. The fabric of your underwear is so wet at this point that it's almost as if it's not even there; you can feel him entirely, rubbing your small bundle of nerves with every thrust.
"Already?" His laughter vibrates through your writhing body, heightening the friction between your thighs.
You try to hold back, a little offended by his derision, wanting to last a bit longer, but with a harsh yank of his hand, he pulls your panties to the side and finally seals your fate. Tendrils of pleasure ignite from your core, sending you spasming sharply in his grasp,your cunt gushing cum on his length.
He growls in your ear, tightening his hold and lifting you off the ground while chasing his own high. Feeling you contort in ecstasy and soak his cock has excited him viscerally, and it's only a matter of minutes until he follows you, shooting his sperm into your panties and mixing his juices with your own. You're both left panting, breathless, and light-headed, your bodies buzzing with the last shreds of bliss.
Alexis adjusts your underwear, cupping your cunt to ensure you feel his cum smear across your tender flesh. You whimper lazily in response, turning your head to glance up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. He meets your gaze with his own glazed look and smiles, that wolfish smile that inspired oh so many stories.
You need more. You want him. You want to feel him inside you. This was not enough. Not enough to satisfy months and months worthy of fantasies and soaking panties.
As if sensing the need within you, Alexis raises his hand to your hair and caresses it with newfound affection.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll give you plenty to write about..." he teases and grins at the way your eyes seem to lighten up at his words, only to see your face fall a second later as he adds: "In due time."
He gives you a playful smack on the ass and then walks out of your room, snickering.
"Whatcha having for dinner?
đŞˇ. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me
#werewolf x reader#werewolves#werewolf#werewolf smut#werewolf fic#monster lover#monsters#exophilia#monster love#terato#monster x human#werewolf x human#werewolf x you#monster kink#teratophillia#monster fucker#monster boyfriend#monster romance#monster smut#monster x reader#tw monsterfucking#monster fic#terato x reader#terat0philliac#terato writing#teratosnacks#roommates to lovers
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p.3 asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk
skip the intro if you want/ i had a very fun time writing suga/daichi/asahi being realistic high school friends. shit had me giggling. anyways ty for all the support!! taglist has gotten big i love it!!
warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI info. nsfw / m!receiving oral / f!receiving oral / grinding / gentle giant!asahi / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / asahi climbing a window / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 3.7k words / multipart series so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part two here. final part here. more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!
"How good are you at climbing?"
Asahi repeated his plan many times to his two most trusted friends on the walk from the hotel. They were prepared for what this was going to look like when they hit a kneel behind the brick half-wall in front of your home.
"God," He sighed, courage fading from his face the longer he stared up over the barrier.
Your window was pretty high.
"Should I-- should I go through with this? I mean, this is crazy--,"
Daichi grabbed both sides of his face and gripped hard.
"Is that even a question?"
Completely taken off-guard, Asahi looked around, a little freaked out, but was only squished harder.
Daichi's expression was stone, "You have to do this."
"Dude, I don't think any chick is gonna be this into you ever again," Suga added.
"This is once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," Daichi gave him a few hard slaps to the face and finally released him.
He rubbed his burning cheek, brow furrowed at the sudden tone-shift first, then with rising confidence. He nodded with resolution.
He was super into you, so why not? It was just a jump. He jumped all the time!
A few more supportive back-pats and half-pushes, and he was checking the look of the house to make sure Tetsuro wasn't on standby at any doors or windows. Thankfully, it was just your open window, exactly how you described it would be.
Asahi's big ass went into a full sprint across the yard, stirring a round of laughter from his peeping friends behind the wall.
The prospect of some old lady calling the cops on this giant sneaking around in the neighbor's yard was too funny of a concept to them.
Daichi snorted at Suga propping his phone up to record.
"Aaahah! Yess-ss-s!!" He giggled under his hand.
Their buddy jumped for the window, but only tapped it with his fingers.
"Noo-oo-hhha-haha-!"
Suga was belly-laughing into his arm. The brunette could hardly speak to encourage him to keep watching as Asahi looked around for anything to help him up.
To their delight, the only possible object to help him at this point was a skinny, unreliable sapling that sat an awkward distance away. He might have been able to properly use it if it was two feet closer, and if he weighed 80 pounds less.
They were grabbing at each other's hands, their laughter not even quiet anymore, when he began to climb it.
"OOoh-, Ooh! OH my-" Suga's laughter turned to just a scratchy whistle at the back of his throat as Asahi fell out of the tree with a thump!
At this point, the two were gripping each other, silently shrieking and vibrating, barely able to open their eyes enough to watch through the phone.
Daichi gasped for air when he saw him land on his ass, "AAAH!! AH-Hh--,"
"SHHHH! SHsh-ss-ss," Suga gripped his shoulder and slipped off, headbutting him in the process.
They were both whistling now, not even watching anymore, as Asahi finally got his hands on your open window just by a powerful vertical.
Fuck that tree. He was glad he left the stupid thing bent at 90-degree angle.
The two sat there on the sidewalk for the next seven minutes, overcome with demonic squeaking, gasping, and hissing, with tears rolling down their red faces. Every time they started to calm down, they'd look at the sideways tree and return to hysterics all over again.
Finally; the easy part was the muscle-up to get inside.
"God damn," He groaned in pain and slid into your bedroom with a stumble.
You swiftly got up, shut, and locked the window behind him, then drew the curtains for good measure.
From his seated position on the floor, he could see all the way up your simple white t-shirt. Pretty, lacy white panties right in front of his nose were the only thing you opted to wear underneath. He grew much, much warmer.
"God damn..." He repeated, though it sounded entirely different.
His hand reached to grab at you, but he stilled, thinking better of himself.
He noticed how pretty your long lashes were, looking down at him like he was your next meal, and wondered what you actually saw in him to make you so eager.
"Hi," You grinned and backed up to pull him to his feet.
It was a struggle to not just sit on him and make-out immediately. But the sun was just setting, and you wanted this to last all night, so you figured you could take a little time out for 'formalities.'
He quickly kicked off his shoes and took your hands, but didn't rely on your help to get up.
Your hands stayed connected between you. His thumb rubbed against the back of your knuckles, slow and tender.
You really were just a sweet little thing. He couldn't believe you were so forward over the phone.
"Hi," He replied softly. A big, warm smile down at you.
Sure, you wanted to know how his day was, how he was feeling, what he was thinking, if he liked your 'outfit'-- but that little exchange transformed your anticipation into desire, and you neededhim now.
A little sweaty from the climb, a little out of breath too, he gladly gave into your guidance to sit on your bed. It groaned under his weight, but you couldn't care about the noise when your lips were crashing onto his.
He tasted like one of those green Listerine strips- spearmint, you caught- and man, was he so good. His lips were full and soft, like you could melt into them all day. He wasn't over-ambitious, nor was he too passive with his mouth.
A growl rose in the back of his throat when you pushed his hands under your shirt.
"Please touch me," You sighed, brow furrowed, limbs growing weaker under his palms.
He sucked on your bottom lip for a moment and caught his much-needed breath. That low laughter was even hotter in person.
"God, you're so cute," He smiled, a small tease at your neediness, but he wasn't hiding the fact that he liked it.
His compliment made you melt in his arms as he picked you up to set you in his lap. The foreign feeling of hands covering your hips, pushing your softness down onto his jeans inspired a small, unfiltered whine onto his lips.
"Fuck," He chuckled, gasping at that unmistakable heartbeat around his tortured, trapped cock, then rasped, "I've got so many questions."
There was almost no resistance when you pushed him to lay down, mostly because he wouldn't trade where his hands were to catch himself. You swallowed an amused sound from him and only responded when he pushed up into you.
"a-Ah-ha," You whined, letting him trail a number of messy kisses down your neck, "Me, too."
Curious hands slid up his light shirt, massaging and prodding nearly every square inch of his hardened frame. He had some chest hair and a little tummy trail, which only added to your ferocity.
He noticed this interest and did you the favor of removing his own shirt.
The sight of his athletic build was not surprising, but it certainly made you want to speed things up. Your fleeting focus shifted to the next thing you wanted to see.
"You feel so big," You breathed, hips rolling against him when he wasn't holding you still.
Judging by the shy, modest smile against your skin, your deduction was right.
"You gonna be okay with that?" His voice buzzed against your ear.
You gasped at the sensation and his tone.
His fingers were edged up under your panties, gripping the plush of your ass, effectively driving home the question's sincerity.
Before you granted him the answer, you pressed a kiss onto his temple and retracted to sit up on his lap, "Are we asking our questions?"
"Yea-h," Just fell out of his mouth.
He didn't realize he even said anything until you responded to him. His focus was on how you rolled waves of pleasure onto his lap, back and forth, real slow, with that gone-look on your face.
"How many girls have you 'been with'?" You hooked your fingers under his waistband and watched his tummy twitch.
"Two."
You nodded with consideration, knocking out his past and future question with your present response, "Me too."
That adage sparked a look of relief and certainty on his face. His hold strengthened around your thigh when you unbuttoned his pants and started lowering the zipper.
"Let me know if it's..." He trailed and tried to suppress a shiver when you pulled him out.
He watched your eyes widen, lips pursed in an adorable astonishment.
It was a conscious effort to not shy away from the size. You couldn't believe your luck, as you took it in your hand to assert that you were not intimidated.
His chuckling interrupted your awed stare.
"Too much?"
A quick head shake, but you weren't convincing enough to his heedful mind.
Another slow, studied kiss between one another. He was holding you still by the side of your face and the back of your head, quieting every worry in your brain.
"We'll take things slow," He reassured you.
Though you were certain nothing on your face expressed concern, his promise stood as a reminder that you could stay calm, because he was safe.
You settled next to him, propped onto your elbow for the most comfortable angle you could get.
Huge, but safe.
The way his stomach tapered down into his hips had you staring and rubbing all around his dick, just curious to touch every inch of him.
A dark, pulsing head was already leaking a bit of precum. You pumped him once, real slow, and let the clear drip onto your tongue.
Salty, yeah, but not much burn to it. You licked the rest of it off of the slit.
He gave a strangled curse and you earned a big hand brushing through your roots.
"Mm..." You sucked a sloppy kiss to the head with a chuckle at his twitching in your mouth.
You stuck your tongue out past your bottom lip and bobbed down. His head fell back onto the blankets and his fingers flexed in your hair.
"Ooh, fu-ck," Was a pretty sound above you.
He was too big for you to take all of him, but he sounded completely satisfied with what you were comfortable doing.
With a slight bend in his knee, he was able to turn his hips slightly towards you. His firm hand in your hair guided you to a rhythm and depth he preferred.
"A-ahh--Fuck, baby that's s-o good..."
You never realized before, but it made it so much easier on your neck and shoulders-- not to mention the fact you didn't have to think anymore.
It helped you relax.
His muttered praise was just the cherry on top. Your thighs squeezed at how good he made you feel for just letting him take your mouth.
He lingered right at that threshold between too difficult and too easy for you, and let up as soon as you gave him some resistance to judge you by.
There wasn't a better person you could've chosen to trust with your body. His tendency to play it safe turned you on because it let you run wild without worry that he'd take advantage of it.
He was so gentle, yet firm- you wanted to discover what you could do with him.
"Fuuck, ah- good girl," He groaned at your ability to take him so well, a shocked, pleasure-soaked chuckle as he was able to fuck deeper into your throat.
You felt pliable and empty when he pulled you up by your roots. It was brand-new and a rehash of everything you wanted from him all at once.
He had a hungry admiration in his eyes for you.
Your hands flew up to tangle in his long hair in a passionate, rushed kiss.
Soft, kissy missionary or the roughest backshots his strength would allow-- you wanted anything, everything, as long as it was with him.
You wanted to be his.
He sucked the spit off of your lips and chin- the rest came off on your shirt, swiped away and forgotten onto the floor.
He readjusted to slide his pants off, yet chose to keep his briefs on. When he pushed you back onto the mattress, it was smooth and skilled, like he'd been planning exactly how he wanted to hold you.
Big, rough palms scoured your body, scratching and squeezing in all the right places to make you jump and squirm against him while he kept you occupied with his mouth.
"I'd love to return the favor," He chuckled against the shell of your ear when you wiggled away from his gentle pinch to your breast.
Your sensitivity motivated him to take his weight off of you.
You gasped at the chance to breathe with ease again. He trailed slow, wet kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and stilled at your exposed chest.
Even when he wasn't doing anything, he felt so good on top of you. You pushed out your chest for him and locked your legs around his waist, a silent beg for him to keep going.
The act stirred another question, muttered between increasingly rough stimulation on your sensitive skin.
"Why me?"
You kept your hand over your mouth to keep some higher tones quiet. Your heartbeat was pounding between your legs-- why was he so humble?
"You're-- mn-! so hot," You admitted. It sure was simple, but it was effective.
It made him blush and laugh a little against your tits, so you kept going, "You ever just, God, ah- know that you need somebody?"
It looked like he didn't really get it, but he was plenty flattered, and that was more than enough.
"Well," He smiled and pushed himself up to sit between your legs. He let his hair fall onto his shoulders so he could re-tie it, "I hope I make it worth your while."
How could he say it like that? You couldn't tear your eyes away from his flexed arms, reaching up for nimble, veiny fingers to comb through his gorgeous locks.
You finally understood it. His self-esteem was testy at best.
"You already have," You admitted.
With the new knowledge that he could be a bit shy, you slid your panties off for him with a coquettish smile.
A sort of challenge, a sort of invitation, when you spread your legs for him again.
He loved your flirty nature. You had this 'Come and get me, big guy' attitude that he couldn't ignore or back down from. In a way, it gave him the confidence he always wanted. Plus, it got him super hard.
A moment to drink up the sight of you completely nude for him.
His hands were rubbing, spreading your thighs open as he settled between them.
He could've been just-alright and it would've been enough for you. Just his breath was setting your nerves on fire. But, like everything else so far, it wasn't mediocrity that defined him.
His lids were low as he got a good look at what he was working with. He pushed your legs far and split you open in spite of -or perhaps because of- your bashful writhing.
A slow, hot kiss against your sex shut down your attempts to get in his way.
Scratching nails turned a bit sweeter, more trembly against his scalp.
A light touch was all you needed, and it was exactly what he offered; his tongue traced every bit of your already longing cunt before taking a feather-light approach to your clit.
"Oh, fuc-k," You whined, having not anticipated how quickly he'd work you up.
There was usually a learning curve to this.
You could see in his eyes that he was smiling, or that he at least found your surprise amusing.
This gentle, sweet method inspired your squirming again, but he kept you in place with heavy arms around your hips.
He kept you so still that his grip was making your muscles ache underneath him. It was a subtle, sweet mix of pain and pleasure that you craved.
"Does that feel good, baby?" His tongue dipped down, a pressure against your soaking wet, tragically still empty, hole.
He knew you couldn't reply.
"Can't wait to fuck you," He mumbled, words buzzing on you.
You were being good about staying quiet under your hand before his admission. But it seemed that you forgot your precarious situation as soon as the man was back to tonguing your clit, edging you much too close to orgasm.
"A-ah-!" You slapped a helpless hand onto his arm and threw your head back onto your pillow, "Asahi-,"
Your unrestrained sounds only encouraged him to keep going.
The sight of you coming completely undone, arching at his touch, calling his name like that, despite not knowing a damn thing about him-- he was starting to understand what you meant by needing somebody.
The tension in your tummy was starting to crest high and quick.
"I'm so close- no," You whined, scratching at him.
You couldn't push away from his grasp, nor escape his dogmatic tongue to relieve your overstimulated clit.
"No-o plea-se, I-want you," Your pleading was finally granted his attention.
He finally stilled and pressed a thoughtful kiss to the inside of your twitchy thigh. The desperation in your voice took his breath away.
Just when he thought you couldn't get any cuter, you pull a move like this.
Who was he to deny you the chance to cum around his cock?
"Damn," He grumbled.
You flinched at his last, longing kiss to your pussy.
He settled next to you and became subject to some fast, light kisses to the side of his face while he finally removed the last of his clothes. You were so happy that he listened to you and that he was pulling out his dick again.
"Yesss!" You giggled and climbed on top of him before he could even straighten back out.
"God," He choked.
Your hips rocked back and forth on top of his strained cock- you were so wet for him, so eager, he couldn't help but compulsively buck against you, too.
His slick, pulsing cock slipped between your folds and bumped against your clit with every slow, strong thrust.
Hands stretched over your ass, he brought you back and forth exactly the way he wanted.
He was using you like a little toy.
You leaned down to your elbows, lips brushing his, and moaned to egg him on, "You feel soo good."
"D'you wanna fuck me?" You bit his lip, testing his patience, his temperament, with a blissed-out look in your eyes.
One set of nails buried into your curves, the other was grabbing the back of your neck to shut you up.
A deep groan surfaced past his lips and onto yours. His low-lidded stare was so intimidating, it made your thighs clench around him.
"Fuck-," He moaned, remembering he would need to stand up to go grab a condom, "My pants are so far away."
He laughed at how badly his cock hurt, hands now trying to still the addictive motion, "I gotta-"
You pried his fingers from you and sat up so you could keep going.
"Mm-mm, I've got some..."
A vague motion to the side of the bed. You leaned your head back at the friction and hoped he was watching you.
That was shockingly attractive of you to just have condoms. He looked to the dresser you pointed to with a raised brow, then closed his fist at the sight of your pretty body getting off on him.
"Alright," He groaned, "Watch it."
The room spun for a moment.
You were suddenly on your back, jaw slack at how he just picked you up and set you down so easily.
It was only disappointing for a moment, because you loved how he could throw you around, and his disgruntled, yet soft instruction.
You gave a shuddery, "Oka-y," through a big, excited grin.
He was leaning to sift through the contents of the drawer, on a search of a large amongst a handful of regulars, when he saw your phone light up at his presence.
"Looks like your mom texted you, by the way," He passed you the device without a further thought.
Finally one for his size in hand, he got back down and started to open it.
You frowned.
7:30 p.m: Make sure you take Maru out before it gets too dark.
9:00 p.m: take maru out. im on the game
A frantic look to the window. How long had it been dark for?
He sat straight up, "Woah, what's wrong?"
Breathless, you informed him, "I was supposed to take the dog out like, 2 hours ago."
His relief at the news was one-sided. For all he knew, a text from your mom could've been much worse. He didn't understand the trouble here.
"Wouldn't your-," He hesitated to bring up Tetsuro in this fragile environment, but had to, "Your brother just do it?"
You snorted. He never did anything that he could just put on you, especially chores that were specifically meant for you.
There was the idea to text and ask if he had done it already, but if he was still occupied, he wouldn't reply, and if he wasn't doing anything, there was the chance he would come up here and bother you until you did it yourself.
You shook your head and slinked off of the bed, despite every fiber of your being telling you to do otherwise.
"I'm surprised he hasn't knocked, yet," You shivered at the new cold and gave a nervous glance to your fortified door.
You looked divine, standing against the dim light that escaped through your blinds. Like a liquid silver painting, just for him.
Asahi grabbed a pillow to cover himself with and sat on the edge of the bed so he could put his hands on you.
He pulled you into a starved, rough kiss that you had to be gently pushed away from.
"Hurry back."
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the more well-known the agency confronting you is, the less trouble you're usually in. like if it's the cops at your door, it could just be a noise complaint. FBI might just be there for tweets. obviously, still bad, but... here, a comparison. if you have a run in with the CIA you're probably in trouble, but if you have a run in with the Office of Naval Intelligence then you've definitely fucked up. did you know the USPS has its own investigative force? and you might be thinking like, oh, as in some dudes in baby blue button-ups who search for missing mail - but no, these are uniformed, armed federal agents with all the authority that entails. they've got squad cars and such. and, like, these guys are serious. back in the late '80s to the early '90s, when electronic mail sorting first started to be rolled out, there were consistent issues with the machines having trouble scanning letters. it wasn't a super common problem, but it happened a lot, in multiple states. anyway, the USPS eventually realised two things - first, that the problems persisted even after the machines themselves were replaced (at great expense); and second, that they were really limited to michigan and some surrounding states, with only rare occurrences elsewhere which might be unrelated. anyway, that was enough to get the United States Postal Inspection Service to take interest. if somebody was sending dangerous materials though the mail which were messing with the scanning machines, it was probably endangering postal workers too. this was pre-9/11, so the idea it was terrorism wasn't taken too seriously, and the investigation didn't get much support. anyway, it takes months of waiting for machines to break down, cataloguing the mail they'd been handling, cross-referencing it, etc, to narrow down the source of the mail to somewhere south of detroit. kinda goes cold for a while, since the mail's scanned in big batches and finding the common link takes a *lot* of data and work. anyway it's like october '91 now and they think they've finally got it. they've found a specific batch that's tripping the machines up, and they're going over it with a fine-tooth comb when an agent's pager starts freaking out. after experimenting, they realise that whatever's fucked with the scanning machines has also fucked with the pager, and they realise it might be putting out radiation. biiig 'oh shit' moment. they isolate the whole batch and get a big medical checkup, but they're alright. geiger counter picks up nothing. what they *do* find, however, is that there are like 60 letters in there that are each putting out small amounts of non-ionising EM radiation. so, basically safe to handle, but together they're enough to flip some bits in the janky '80s tech they've got and cause occasional scanning errors. and, get this, they're all from the same address. they track this place down, and it's this guy running a sort of bird sanctuary in his backyard. he's australian, and sells like, courses for avoiding getting attacked by birds - and he spends a lot of time hanging around these birds, right? so they take the guy in for questioning, and they literally can't even have recording equipment on the table with him without it glitching, he's almost cooking popcorn here. they question him, and he tells them about his business, how he like, teaches people specific hand gestures to scare away birds and whatever, and they start grilling him on whether he's been exposed to any chemicals or anything, because of the letters. and the guy, when he hears about the letters, suddenly goes like 'ohhh', and explains. cus he gives people grades on their performance and sends them a handmade certificate after they complete the course, right? so they're like 'why the fuck are your letters irradiated' and he just tells them 'Thats My Crow Wave Gradiation'
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