#Even MORE ramblings of a drunk man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 7 months ago

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Whiskey, Neat, With a Side of You - T.F.

Synopsis. When your date stands you up, you’re lucky that the hot bartender is more than happy to keep you company!

Pairing. Bartender! Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, strangers to lovers, unprotected, pússydrunk Toji, cúmplay, oral (female + male receiving), créampie, some heinous things with pantíes, dirty talk, spitting, whískey, neither are drunk, absolutely filthy, pet names (doll), swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. Was originally gonna be Nanami but Toji mmmm

“So, that date of yours is late, huh?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the question, or the voice from behind the counter - so very deep, tinged with just a bit of amusement.

Tearing your eyes away from the clock at the other end of the bar, it takes a second - and one look around the almost-empty room - for you to realize that shit the hot bartender was talking to you. Sputtering out a quick, “Oh, yes, um-” quickly reading that faded nametag, “-Toji. He’s a bit late.”

The man in front of you raises a brow, dark green eyes locked on the way you shift in your seat. He seemed a bit older, and - you gulp, eyeing the way his arms flex as he fumbles with the shaker - so undeniably attractive. Plowing on obliviously, “Boyfriend?”

You sigh, pinching your nose, “No, some guy from a dating app. It’s supposed to be our first date.”

“First date?” Toji lets out a low whistle. “Way to make an impression, dunno what type of asshat would keep a pretty lil’ thing like you waiting.”

Cheeks flaring, you don’t know what it is about him that makes you want to defend yourself, but it doesn’t matter anyway - because whatever rambled excuse gets stuck in your throat at the sharp scrape of glass against the counter. Large hands gently placing a pretty pink daiquiri in front of you, Toji gives you a reassuring nod. “S’on the house till that dumbass shows up. Until then, you can keep me company, doll.”

Playing with the straw between your fingers, your eyes flit to the clock again - 8:10pm.

Well, there was still time. Right?

Nonsense, maybe.

Because it’s around 10:21pm when you conclude that no, there really wasn’t still time, and your date seemed well and fully intent on completely embarrassing you. And now, him still nowhere in sight, lips a bit looser, you were having the time of your life complaining all about it to Toji.

“-no, I swear.” you groan over his low chuckle. “He really gave me the ‘sorry, my dog ate my keys’ gem. And you know the best part?” Beckoning him over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear - heart stuttering at the heat of his proximity, “The man doesn’t even own a dog.”

Shaking his head, Toji seemed like he was drinking in your every word. “Classic. If yer gonna be late, at least make it interesting. Like, ‘I accidentally joined the circus on the way here.’”

“Mhm, I’ll have to keep that in mind for my next no-show date.” you grin, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than you were a few hours ago. Nowhere near tipsy, but definitely high off the conversation and the addictive scent of his cologne - the expensive kind that left you wondering whether all of him smelled this delicious.

“Or better yet, you could spend your time with someone who actually knows how to keep you entertained rather than some scrub.”

Snapping out of your little reverie, lifting your head just fast enough to catch the little smirk tugging Toji’s lips. Managing to grit out, “Smooth, huh?”

“Just sayin’.” he hums, before turning his back to organize the glasses on the shelf. And you can’t help but traitorously admire his broad shoulders, cursing that t-shirt for being so goddamn tight that you could see the way his muscles ripple with each movement.

“Besides-” Catching the tail-end of Toji’s question, “-neat whiskey for all the failed dates?”

You chuckle, “Ah, I really shouldn’t, the other customers will probably-” your sentence dies in your throat as a quick glance at the empty room showed that everyone else had eventually left - leaving just you. And Toji. Damn. Slow day, huh?

“Well, doll?”

Heaving out a shaky breath, you nod. Eyes zoning in on the way he expertly handles the glasses, so dizzyingly inviting. It makes a sheepish smile play at your lips, letting out a quiet little, “Despite all the shitty dates, I’ve actually never had whiskey neat before.”

Oh? That made him pause. Eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he sets down the glasses and leans in a little closer, breath hot against your face. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Well.” Toji muses. “This overpriced shit can’t be your first intro to neat whiskey. If you’re up for it, I’ve got a special 1926 Macallan stashed away in the back n’ can get it for us?”

Oh. Maybe it was that slow, silent grin that curls his lips, that sinful little scar moving as he does. Or maybe it was the way he places a hand on the counter to stare down so heavily at you. Probably it was just him - because you find yourself batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Or I could just go with you?”

And shit if there was ever a time where Toji was sure he met his match then it might just be right now. Because that sultry lil’ smirk on your lips was killing him, making such a carnal little part of him twitch so dangerously. With a heavy nod, you’re following him through the dimly lit bar.

The back room is more of a VIP room than anything - cozy, lined with shelves of alcohol and leather furniture. Heady with the liquor and something so so Toji.

You’re halfway through reading the title of a wine you could barely pronounce before he’s letting out a grunt of satisfaction from behind you, “Excuse me, doll.” It’s all that’s said before Toji’s pressing up against you. His muscular arm just inches from your head, reaching for something from the very top shelf. And oh you could feel his abs rubbing up against your back, so warm and-

And then he’s pulling away.

It was quite hard to stomp down the disappointed whine that almost leaves your throat, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said something about the amused little glint in his eyes. Smug bastard knew what he was doing.

Instead focusing on the way he turns to show off a bottle with a deceivingly innocent reverence. “This is going to be a real treat.”

Well. Two can play that game.

“Is that so?” you tilt your head, reaching out to grab the bottle neck, with not as much care of concern as you should have considering this was a million dollar whiskey. Swiftly unclasping the lid, focused only on the way Toji’s breath hitches as you fist his t-shirt in your other hand to pull him close to you - so close.

Close enough that you could count every shade of green in those half-lidded eyes, long lashes fluttering as your breath fans his face. “Such a shame we didn’t bring our glasses, huh?”

Oh the devilish grin that splits across his face sends such delicious shivers down your spine - Toji gets your drift. Of course, he does. Because he’s squishing your cheeks together in an almost-embarrassing pout, fingers searing on your skin, lips ghosting yours, “Yeah, real shame.”

Immediately bringing the bottle to his mouth, letting the burning liquid pool on his tongue, he spits into your mouth, once. Twice.

A steady stream of whiskey, and spit. It tasted just like the acrid alcohol and sin. And Toji.

And it was so messy, smearing across your lips and trickling down your chin. Tilting your head back, you let it flow down your throat obscenely. Locked in his greedy gaze as you loll your tongue out to show off the way you’d swallowed everything he gave.

“Maybe I do like neat whiskey.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him because fuck Toji was intoxicating and just there. That little scar rubbing against your lips as he devours you so sloppily, all hard muscles and heated skin underneath your fingertips.

“Fuck.” he hisses into your open mouth. Setting down the whiskey God-knows-where near the couch to pick you up like a ragdoll. Drinking in the cute lil’ gasp that leaves you as you wrap your legs around his slutty waist. Groping and kneading every inch of skin he could reach. “How ya likin’ the Macallan, doll?”

“A ‘real treat’.” you mimic his earlier words, voice slightly broken as you feel his rock-hard cock through your wet panties, throbbing angrily against your cunt. Fuck, would you even be able to take him all?

“Oh yeah?”

And before you can react you’re being pushed against the hard wall. Toji’s lips dizzying on yours, fiddling with that godforsaken clasp on the back of your tight dress.

“Shit.” he groans impatiently, wedging a knee between your legs, grinding against your wet pussy. “Such a delicious meal all f’me but I’ve gotta get through this- fuckin-” rip! “-dress”

Well, you expected your dress to end up on the floor somewhere, just not like this - tattered and hitting the ground of this back room behind the bar, faster than your jaw. And so do Toji’s - pupils blown, eyes hooded as he takes in the heavenly view in front of him.

Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, licking like he couldn’t stay away. “Shit, doll. You were gonna wear this pretty lil’ number for that loser?” he sounds genuinely confused. Immediately tweaking and rolling your swollen nipples through the sheer fabric. “M’so fucking glad that bastard doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“T-Toji- ngh-” you mewl, as he lets your bra fall to the ground. Taking in one tit in his mouth, swirling his hot tongue around your areola. “Wan- wan’ more-”

“Now now,” he tuts mockingly, delicate strings of spit connecting him to your breasts. “S’rude to be the only one drinking. Unless…” Toji looks up at you through his thick lashes, “You wan’ me to drink in that pretty lil’ cunt of yours?”

And shit that sounded like everything you ever wanted right now. All you can let out is a delirious little nod before Toji’s dropping to his knees. So hard you wonder if it hurts - and maybe it’s the liquor, probably it’s the way he’s drunk off you - but he doesn’t give a fuck.

“Yeah, atta girl.”

Pulling down your panties in one, fluid motion, he tugs them underneath your legs, disappearing between his own, fumbling with his waistband. And if you angled your head just right you could see the slightest glimpse of Toji fisting his cock. Soaking your already-wet panties with his precum.

“Aw, look at the way she’s so wet f’me already.” he coos at your dripping cunt. Absolutely obsessed with the way you’re so drenched for him already. Slick beading through the flimsy fabric at each hot breath, oh Toji has half the mind to just take you right here, right now. But no, he wanted- needed a taste. Doesn’t think he could live without it. “Wonder if she tastes just as sweet as she looks.”

Whatever retort on the tip of your tongue is cut off by Toji burying himself face-first in your pussy. Licking a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds, pooling your slick on his tongue.

But it wasn’t enough - it might never be. Because one taste of your pretty cunt and Toji is hooked.

With a low groan, he’s spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering pussy. Spreading it with his thumb before he’s diving back in nose-deep. Snaking a hand down to draw frenzied little circles on your swollen clit, letting your juices glisten all down his wrist.

“Taste s’fuckin’ good. Fucking sweet.” So hot and maybe you should’ve gotten an inkling with how sloppy he was with the whiskey - but Toji was so fucking filthy. Your slick glossing his face so prettily, smearing right up to his nose and dribbling down his chin. Lewd little squelches deafening in your ears.

“Ngh- Sh-shut up-”

“Shut up? Can’t shut up, doll, m’drunk on this sweet cunt more than I am on whiskey.” he mutters into your folds. “My favorite taste. Got me addicted, huh?”

He huffs out a dark laugh into your pussy, taking in that cute lil’ embarrassed expression on your face. Throwing one of your legs over his sculpted shoulder, Toji bullies his soft tongue into your snug cunt, past that delicious little ring of resistance.

Making out with your pussy deeper. And his tongue was so long - perfectly hitting your sweet spots, licking all over your plushy walls. Thrusting in time with his thumb drawing on your clit, in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck, I could get used to this. Have you for breakfast, lunch, n’ dinner.”

His words were so dirty, but Toji looked so pretty stuffing his face in your cunt. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. Tilting his head just so that your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat.

It’s what has you tugging in his hair to angle him just right, using him like your favorite toy. Such cute lil’ whines of his name leaving you each time his tongue grazes that one spot that has you keening and bucking into his mouth for more more more-

“Fuck fuck fuck jus’ like that- Ah!” you let out such pretty whines, words slurring together. Delirious little ones that go straight to Toji’s achingly hard cock, angry and twitching in his fist. So needy and glistening with precum in the dim lighting.

Shit, Toji thinks he could cum at just that, which is why he’s lapping at your cunt even greedier, drinking you in like a madman. Fingers so deftly toying with your pretty clit, making you putty in his hands. He has to make you cum. Now. Or else he’s gonna fuckin’ embarrass himself in front of such a goddess.

“Oh? So drunk on m’tongue, already, doll?” he chuckles. “Can’t speak?” Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure up your spine. It has you dragging your cunt so sloppily all over Toji’s face - and he likes it. Loves it even, only speeding up his movements. Even when his jaw is aching, walls sucking him up so desperately that it was almost difficult to eat out your pretty lil’ cunt. Even when your sweet juices are dripping down to the hardwood floor in a sinful little drip! drip! drip!

“I- ngh- m’gonna-”

“Gonna what? You can handle whiskey, you can handle using your words, doll.”

“Cum!” you yelp, “M’gonna cum Toji- ah- feels t’good.”

And that’s exactly what he liked to hear because Toji only gets sloppier. Alternating between stretching you out on his tongue, sucking on your clit, licking everywhere. Over and over-

“Then cum f’me, doll.”

And you are - fast and hard. So hard that you don’t even realize when you’re rocking your hips all over Toji’s face. Cunt fluttering around his tongue as if you were trying to suck him up - and he lets you.

“Fuck. Sweeter than I imagined.” he’s slurring into your cunt. “Jus’ like that- yeah, ride out that pretty lil’ cunt on m’face.” Words muffled as he tonguefucks you through your high, stars behind your lids every time he flicks at your pussy.

Distantly, you hear such embarrassing little whimpers of his name in time with the sinfully wet groans from below - ones you realize are yours only when you’re blinking back your vision. Heart thundering, pathetically trying to catch your breath.

The first thing you hear is Toji’s little chuckle, followed closely by a lewd pop! that has you whirling to look at him down below.

“Wh-wha-” and all you can let out is a strangled little oh! at the sight before you - Toji licking his fingers clean, sucking all your sweet juices like he couldn’t get enough. Even when he’s flashing you a devilish grin around his fingers, rising from his position on the ground to cage you against the wall.

“Told ya m’addicted, doll.”

Your back hits the soft leather before you even realize what’s happening. Bouncing at the sheer force of the throw, you gasp in both shock and at the audacity of this man.

“Toji…” you warn as he looms over you on the couch, yet it comes out more breathless than you intended. But looking at him there - straddling your hips, pants pulled just below his heavy balls, tugging and teasing his rock-hard cock like he was trying to fuck something delicious out of it - how could you be blamed, really?

He was so big. Pulsing wildly in his fist and just soaked in precum - all the way from his pretty pink tip to the tufts of black at his base. Not quite wild, not quite tamed. You cunt clenches in- anticipation? Fear of not being able to walk for the next week?

And in the haze of your orgasm it takes you a second to register the flimsy panties wrapped around his hand. Rubbing against those prominent veins on the side as Toji fucks his fist. So wet and ruined that you almost didn’t recognize it.

“Jus’ think of it as repayment.” he grins, following your line of sight.

You scoff, eyes still traitorously stuck on his throbbing cock. So massive and mouth-watering that it makes you wish he used you instead of those panties. “Those were expensive y’know.”

“I’ll buy you new ones. Four. In the color of my eyes.”

“How about…” you flash him a sultry smirk, urging his hips to shift higher. And by the amused quirk of his brow, you knew Toji liked where this was going. “I can repay you another way.”

And before you knew it, his pants are thrown to God-knows-where, and you had two, muscled thighs straddling your face. Toji slaps his swollen cock on your face once. Twice. “Think that loser was this big?” Thumbing your mouth open as he grazes his weeping tip across your lips, glossing them so prettily. Precum salty on your tongue, all filthy and dripping down to your chin.

“Open wide- Fuck. Tha’s it-” he hisses, brows furrowing as he stuffs his fat head into your hot mouth. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the way your lips bulge around him, flicking at the sensitive tip. And it was so delicious, Toji couldn’t decide whether he liked eating you out or this more.

“Shit, doll.” he grunts, hips fucking into your plushy tongue in shallow, quick little thrusts. “Taking me so well, huh?”

You didn’t know if you were - lips stretching obscenely around his thick cock, tears clinging to your lashes. Choking and gagging around his length in a way that made Toji twitch inside you. Shit, he liked this - liked seeing you like this. And as soon as the realization hits you, you’re moaning around his cock, making Toji’s hips stutter above you.

Toji has to fight off that part of himself that just wants to paint your mouth a sinful white. Fuck his cum into your till it’s all you can taste - all you can feel.

“Shit. You little minx. Ah- s’heavenly around me ngh-” pressing your head down till all the way till your nose is flush against his pelvis, balls twitching against your chin. Finally bottoming out and fucking your mouth in harsh, long strokes. “Fuck- Wonder if that pretty lil’ cunt of yours is gonna take me t-this well, huh?”

Oh does he love your smart mouth - but he loves it even more when all he gets in response is wet gurgle around his cock. Looking up at him so tearily and shit he could get used to this sight. “M’gonna take that as a yes.”

And then he’s speeding up, balls squeezing so painfully. God it’s so fucking hard to look at you too - precum and spit bubbling sloppily at the corners of your mouth, makeup so messy and fucking gorgeous to him.

“Can feel m’self riiight-” Reaching out a hand to wrap around your throat, feeling his dick bulging in and out in and- “here.”

Moving faster so he can ruin your pretty face. It’s so sloppy the way your spit glistens down his length, using your swollen mouth as he pleases. And you’re so eager to make him lose his mind too that it has been fucking into you like a toy.

“Ya like this? Like me using your pretty lil’ mouth like oh- it’s a fucktoy? Oh fuck, doll.” he groans, running his mouth like he’s drunk off yours wrapped around him. “Gonna paint that pretty mouth of yours white if y’don’t stop now.”

And shit if he knew those words would have you eagerly bobbing your head to meet his hips a little slut then he’d have said them a lot sooner. Trying to get just a taste of him. Mascara runny now, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip every time he hits the back of your throat, so hard that it’s probably sore and bruised. Toji almost feels bad.

…

Nahhh

Pulling your mouth off him, muttering low and dangerous. “Told ya to stop now, didn’t I?”

And oh he hates to cut off that cute lil’ whine spilling from your kiss-bitten lips, but shit Toji’s losing his patience and his sanity with each passing second that he isn’t stuffing his cock in your pretty cunt.

Toji backs up, swiping a thumb under your lip, sucking off the remnants of his precum before capturing your lips in a searing, searing kiss. Tasting you and himself and you-

“Liked the Macallan, huh?” Reaching blindly for the bottle of whiskey, taking a deep swing. Spitting it back into your mouth because shit you looked so pretty swallowing it all up. Rutting his hips into yours, sliding his throbbing erection in between your swollen folds. Collecting your sweet juices on his head, drinking in your adorable gasps.

“T-Toji.” you whimper, hips bucking up wildly. “Just fuck me already, goddamnit.”

And then he is - pressing his fat tip into your sloppy hole. Inch by fucking inch. Not even thinking of easing into it because fuck he needs it. He needs it-

“-s’bad. Ah-” Toji drawls against your lips. “Wan’ed this ever since y’walked in through that damn door.” A mess of spit and alcohol and precum - it made you feel so dirty, dirtier than the pressure between your legs as he bullies his heavy cock into your snug pussy. And all you can do is fucking take it because Toji was so unrelenting.

Thrusting in shallow, mindless little thrusts to just fit himself inside you - and you already feel like you’re being stretched to your limits. Whimpering out a tearily little, “Are you at least ngh- halfway in yet? Oh-”

If Toji was any lesser man he’d just have split you apart on his cock right now, but no. Instead settling for a smug little, “Nope”, popping the p.

But that doesn’t stop him from wrapping two arms around your waist, sitting up on the couch with you splayed out so prettily on his cock. Pulling you, squeezing his dick into your soft cunt, sliding down, down, down.

“Ah! Ah- shit shit shit s’too deep, ngh-”

“No such thing as ‘too deep’, doll.” he clenches his jaw. Hands pushing your thighs apart even further as you’re split apart on his cock. “You jus’ hafta sit there all pretty n’ take- it-” Each word is punctuated by a harsh thrust.

And Toji’s manhandling you around while bouncing you on his dick. Drawing unhurried little circles on your clit while trying to find that one spot he knows you’d love more than any whiskey or drink. Looping a strong arm to arch you into his body and-

“Fuck!” you keen, hips grinding sloppily to milk his cock as much as you could. Walls clenching so sinfully and shit-

“Found it.”

And then it was like something snapped - because all of a sudden Toji’s no more playful teasing and letting you have your little fun. No, he’s fucking you like a man possessed - thrusting his cock up into you. All the way from his weeping tip, till his balls smack your ass. So hard he’s sure they leave such a shameful mark for tomorrow. Hitting that spot over and over-

“Aren’t ya glad you chose to ah- s-stay with me?” he hisses, throwing his head back. One hand rocking your hips deeper the other becoming faster and faster on your poor, ravaged clit. Driving you crazy. “Fuck that date ditcher, y’look all pretty like this for me.”

“Yes yes yes- s’glad.” you manage to sob out. Voice shaky and hitching at the way he was bouncing you on his cock with reckless abandon. The lewd squelches and skin-on-skin filling the heady room, making your head spin so much that you barely hear Toji’s words.

“I’d make a much better date. Hngh-” he lets out a guttural groan as your nails rake his back. Fingers on your clit becoming more and more frantic. “Would buy ya flowers n’ a-all that shit. Show up on time, all dressed up.” Drinking in your lewd little ah! ah! ah! every time he milks himself on your sloppy pussy. But oh maybe Toji was a talker when he was drunk because he wasn’t done yet.

“Make all those other scrubs fuck- jealous. And then-” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy. “Hah- at night- m’gonna fuck you dumb just like this.” he gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his sanity. Losing it bit by bit every time his veins rub so deliciously against all the right spots that make you see stars.

Losing his sanity especially when you whine out such a cute lil’ noise of agreement. “Fuck m’close. Wanted this too, huh? I saw the way you’d been eyeing me all night.”

You can’t even be embarrassed about being caught red-handed, only looking up at his pretty face with delirious heart-eyes. Too cockdrunk and delirious at this point. And, well, maybe it’s the alcohol in your veins because you’re grabbing at the shiny bottle on the seat, bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste barely hitting your lips before you’re meeting his. Making out as sloppily as he was ravaging you below - all teeth and whiskey and pure filth.

And that answers his question.

Messy and desperate.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - clamping down so sinfully on his aching cock. And shit it’s so heavenly that it sends him over the edge as well.

Toji cums, and keeps cumming so hard that he can see the way his seed was gushing out of your poor, overfilled pussy. Especially not when his thrusts get sloppy, thick cum spilling all over your pretty cunt. Purposely not pulling out like the mean bastard he is to paint your walls a sinful white

Over and over, forming a wet little patch on the couch that he knows he’ll have to worry about later. But right now he doesn’t give a fuck because your bloated and so prettily all covered in his seed.

Leisurely, he pools the cum trickling out of your cunt on his fingertips, not even wasting a second before stuffing them in your mouth, pushing through your swollen lips. And you don’t complain - not at all. In fact, you’re sucking it all up eagerly. Looking Toji straight in the eyes while you swallow it all.

“Hmm, not as good as the whiskey.” you tease. Letting yourself be yanked into his body, as he grins against your lips.

“For that, m’keeping the panties.”

---

“Toji…” a low voice rings through the closed bar. Shiu sounding like he’s absolutely at his wit’s end as he continues, “Where the fuck is our 1926 Macallan?”

The man in question was staring suspiciously giddily at his phone - either having not heard what Shiu said, or he just couldn’t give a fuck anyway. And knowing Toji, it was probably the latter.

A warning. “Toji I’m serious, that shit costs over a million dollars.”

“Yeah yeah, congratulations or my condolences but hey, do you know any great flower shops?”

A/N. I don’t even like whiskey so much, it’s just the thought of bartender! Toji that has me feral.

Plagiarism not authorized.

8K notes · View notes

sexbot300 · 9 months ago

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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ brat-tamer!toji

authors note: no thots, just him. this is just pure smut, sorry lollllll. need him so bad u don’t understand. with that being said, minors dni, 18+ ! thank you for the love on my first few posts! i appreciate it all of it <3 i'm not ignoring my messages btw, just extremely busy with my studies! ♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

brat-tamer!toji who notices you acting up and simply asks, “cranky because you ain’t got dick today?”

brat-tamer!toji who only looks at you with a raised brow and (huge) arms across his chest when you purposely try to piss him off. so cute.

brat-tamer!toji who purposely puts his entire body weight on top of you when you beg him to stop due to overstimulation. he tugs you even closer, just laughing in your face.

brat-tamer!toji who stops thinking coherent thoughts when he sees you in a sundress.

brat-tamer!toji who rewards your good behavior with head (lets you squirt) and also punishes your bad behavior with head (denies you relief, gives in eventually, sometimes).

brat-tamer!toji who loooovessssss shoving your face into the pillow while you whine, pant, and moan. he loves to put your head into a headlock with his bicep, as drool escapes your lips, and you’re babbling like an idiot while he’s hitting it from the back.

brat-tamer!toji who casually lifts you up and fucks you in the air as if just anyone can do it. “such a perfect little pocket pussy,” he snickers.

brat-tamer!toji who gets you cock drunk so often (he’s starting to think that it’s your normal state).

brat-tamer!toji who likes to make you count every time he spanks the fat of your ass when arched up across his lap. slap! “24…” you say with a slight moan, biting your bottom lip in, as he soothes the red outline forming on your cheek. he grins above you, “should’ve known a cock-bent whore like you would take this as pleasurable rather than punishment.”

brat-tamer!toji who makes a safe word with you early on (which you tease him for doing so early, he only tsks because he knows YOU know how much you mean to him and he puts your well-being above anything else).

brat-tamer!toji who has a hidden collection of pictures on his phone with you smiling, his cum decorating your face.

brat-tamer!toji who grips your face in the middle of a make out session, pulling away as he notices your fucked out, panting expression. “open.” you quickly open up your mouth as he slowly lets spit hit onto your tongue. he lightly chuckles. “obedient slut.” you look at him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wanting more. “swallow.”

brat-tamer!toji who finds his favorite position to be when his massive balls are hitting your clit and he mercilessly pounds, abusing your little cunt from the back as he strings profanity out of his mouth. or a full nelson where he just tells you to, “shut the fuck up and take it.” or even a mating press where he can pummel his cum into you while seeing your face contort in pure bliss. “y-yeah. ‘ust let loose. go dumb on this dick.”

brat-tamer!toji who regularly calls you; “slut, (needy or cock) whore, vixen, pretty, disgusting, (stupid) bitch, brat, bad girl, good girl, perfect, beautiful, gorgeous, princess, angel, (sex or fuck) toy, doll, bunny, cum-slut, cum-dumpster, sugar… etc”

brat-tamer!toji who gets annoyed at your endless ramblings about your day, he sighs and tells you to get on your knees. you promptly do that, but to push his buttons you don’t stop rambling on and on and on. somehow, this man manages to get his 8 (girthy) inches down your throat. “cant complain with my cock in your mouth, huh?” he only smirks as you become teary-eyed, moaning a little at his statement, lapping your tongue up and down like a starving dog. he throws his head back, forearms supporting him while you bob your head back and forth on his thick length. “hey… never said that my cock doesn’t appreciate your tongue. s’ch a good girl when you do what you’re made for. unh!”

brat-tamer!toji who presses against you into a mirror, his broader, massive frame encasing you while he stares into your soul. “i-i don’t understand what i did?” you look up at him feigning innocence, batting your eyelashes. fingers caress his forearms, down his hard bicep, and lightly trace his hardened outline. his eyes never leave yours, a stern, menacing look to the average person, but you can tell he’s about to have you praying for mercy in another way. “of course you don’t understand what you did.” you whine slightly when his fingers suddenly grab a fist full of your hair, burning your scalp, his voice turns mockingly softer. “all you know in that pretty, empty, head of yours is just fucking. nothing else.” he quickly releases you, eliciting a gasp, magically flipping you around in an instant so you’re staring at yourself in the mirror now. “told you not to play with yourself until i came home. but you just haaad to be difficult.” he gripped the vibrator in one hand that was tucked away, pressing it against your lips. “spit.” you spat on it, eyes full of want. he only snickered and smirked. “good luck thinking I’m going to let you cum. stare in the mirror while I do this.” he turned the toy on, a vibrating tune humming throughout the room. “need you to realize how pathetic you look begging.” you gasped slightly, “b-but-" he proceeds to pry your legs apart with one massive thigh, his hand gripping the front of your neck, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “push your skirt up. you lost your right to cum, stupid whore. cum without permission, see what happens.”

brat-tamer!toji who loves to fuck you on his fingers. he loves the lewd noise it makes while ramming his two middle fingers in and out, or up and down. he loves to see your jaw go slack as you beg him to stop. “i-it’s… uhhhhhh! t-to- ah! -ji, toooooo-uhhh much!” he never loses focus, “yeah? yeah?” he presses his hand on your lower abdomen, “quite honestly, don’t care what you think.” he only licks his lips, his scarred lip grins with anticipation to finally taste you when you unfold.

brat-tamer!toji who degrades you like it’s a living but LIVES for your filthy mouth. he loves that you talk back, he’ll never admit it. he loves putting cum sluts like you in their place.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

brat-tamer!toji who weirdly… gets needy at times when you finish. he’ll hold you from behind, shutting his eyes while his arms are wrapped around, practically glued to your torso, the backside of your body molds perfectly to the front of his. legs intertwined, your head against his chest, a moment of pure bliss shared between you two. “who knew the big bad toji likes to cuddle?” “shut up.”

(silly toji! i need him to ruin me)

#jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x y/n #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #sexbot300 writes

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theprettyarachnid · 3 months ago

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logan going into heat would include

a/n: i’m not proud of what i’m doing but someone had to do it (also first time writing for him so be nice)

warnings/themes: nsfw, unestablished relationship, implied age gap

horny!logan who becomes 10x more brooding and aggressive, especially towards people who piss him off

horny!logan who can’t help but think of the irredeemable things he wants to do to you every time he looks at you

horny!logan who tries his hardest to stay away from you but for whatever reason you always happen to find yourself right next to him

horny!logan who goes into the woods to jack off because the walls in his room aren’t thick enough to block out the animalistic sounds that come out of his mouth

horny!logan who cums to the thought of your mouth wrapped around his dick

horny!logan who finds your smell intoxicating and has to readjust his pants before you notice the growing boner

horny!logan who thinks about taking you to a private place just to bend you down and fuck you senseless

horny!logan who starts noticing your fast glances

horny!logan who flirts and makes you smile with his dry sense of humor

horny!logan who has to hold himself back when you laugh and place a hand on his muscular arm

horny!logan who dreams about the noises you possibly make when you’re getting eaten out and fucked

horny!logan who shares his whiskey with you when it’s late and you’re alone with each other

horny!logan who stops you from kissing him because you’re drunk even though all he wants is to kiss you

horny!logan who tries to make you feel less embarrassed by telling you that you don’t want to kiss an ‘old man’ like him

horny!logan who knows that it was right but still hates that he stopped you

horny!logan who needs to jack off that night to let off some steam

horny!logan who makes you talk to him after ignoring him the whole morning

horny!logan who has to listen to your apology

horny!logan who tells you to shut up when you begin to ramble and chuckles at the look you give him

horny!logan who painfully explains that he was actually flattered and would’ve kissed you back if you weren’t drunk

horny!logan who tries to back track when you don’t respond only for you to kiss him on the cheek

horny!logan who frowns while you smile at him

horny!logan who grabs your hand and leads you to his room so he can fuck you until you’re begging for him to stop

#logan x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #wolverine x reader #x-men #fanfiction #smut #wolverine smut #hugh jackman

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girlgenius1111 · 5 months ago

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responsibility

you are reluctant to share the problems you are having at home with your teammates. your teammates just think you're an irresponsible teen. it takes an emergency for things to come to light. barça x reader, though this first part is much more platonic alexia & reader. more team involvement to come. cw: some violence / abuse. a lot on grief and the loss of a parent. this is mostly desperately sad angst with some comfort sprinkled throughout.

------

Your father was drunk. Hammered, in fact. You’d seen the empty bottles scattered around the kitchen when you walked in from training, telling you that he’d gotten an early start today. You were on your guard as soon as you’d noticed that, but you only pushed your dresser in front of your door when he began to pound on it, and yell. Some of the things he was saying were completely unintelligible, while others were completely clear. What you could understand was not anything new. He rambled about your mom, and how much he missed her. About how horrible it was that she’d died and left him stuck with you. How you drained away all his money playing football, and how he was tired of how ungrateful you were.

Normally, he didn’t do anything. Normally, the yelling was the extent of it. Sometimes, though it went farther. He’d grab you, or push you, kick you out of the house. When that happened, you’d go to a friend's place and sleep there, only coming back in the morning when you knew he’d be passed out.

Only very rarely did he actually hurt you. The occurrences were rare enough that you could pretend it didn’t happen. You covered the bruises up with makeup if you had too, and ignored them. You told people they came from training until you started to believe it yourself.

Tonight felt different, though, and you knew why. It was your parents anniversary. Any faint reminder of your mother only seemed to inflame your father’s hatred for you. He’d never wanted a kid, but your mom had, and that man had worshiped the ground she walked on. So, your parents had you, and you enjoyed a happy little life for 15 years. And then your mom got sick, and then got sicker.

You thought losing her would be the hardest thing you’d ever do, but as you sat on the floor of your bedroom, you decided that your father hating you because your mother was dead was somehow 100x more painful. He hurled abuse at you through the door, and when the dresser tipped away from it, crashing loudly onto the ground, you were more afraid than you’d ever been in your life.

You barely had the forethought to grab your phone and slip it into your pocket before your father shoved his way into the room, a half full bottle of vodka sloshing in his hand. He had the look on his face that haunts your nightmares. The detached one that told you things were about to hurt. You braced yourself as he raised the bottle, hoping it would hit the window and break it open, instead of hitting you. Instead of breaking you open.

The ground came crashing up towards you as you dropped, trying to avoid the bottle. The world went black around you, and you weren’t sure if it was from the bottle, or from the force of your head hitting the ground.

The darkness only came as a relief.

------

You were at Alexia’s house before you had even really decided where you were going. Your forehead was bleeding a bit, and your head was throbbing. Your shin had gotten cut, too, on the way out your window. Or maybe it had gotten cut as you’d broken the glass of the window in order to climb out.

Realistically, you knew you should call your lawyer, who would call your case worker. Who was really the only one with the power to get you out of that house. Neither of those people made you feel safe though, not like your teammates did. Or used to. Things were fuzzy, now, blurred, and you weren’t really sure if they still cared for you. If they would still feel safe. You hoped they would, because you weren’t sure what else you would do if they didn’t.

It didn’t occur to you that someone other than Alexia would answer the door, but then her girlfriend was staring at you, mouth agape, and you wondered why you hadn’t gone to Ingrid and Mapi’s, or Marta and Caro’s. You didn't know Olga well, weren’t even sure if she’d recognize you. She surprised you, though, turning and shouting for Alexia as her hands found yours and she gently guided you in through the door.

Your captain’s voice echoed back through the house, missing the urgency Olga had tried to convey, and you could hear her leisurely steps coming from upstairs. Olga tried to bring you into the living room, but you stopped, shaking your head.

“Blood.” You mumbled. “I’ll get blood on the furniture.”

Olga was looking at you with something that wasn’t pity, or sympathy. It was anger, far from gentle anger, but her voice was soft when she spoke.

“Don’t worry about that. Come sit down, Ale is coming.”

Numbly, you let her guide you onto the couch. Alexia caught your eye as she entered the room, her face changing from mild curiosity to one of horror.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. You looked away from her, the expression on her face forcing emotions to bubble up inside of you. Emotions you didn’t want to cope with, didn’t want to feel at all.

Olga walked over to her girlfriend, murmuring a few words, before she exited the room. Alexia took a deep breath, before she came to kneel in front of you.

“Pequeña? Are you with me?” She spoke more softly than you’d ever heard.

“Sorry. I know it’s late.”

“No apologies, please.” She reached up to move your hair out of your face, and get a better look at the cut across your cheek that appeared to have stopped bleeding. You flinched away from her violently, and every hope she’d had that this had been an accident flew out the window. She pulled her hand away, trying to keep her voice low and soothing.“You are okay. You are safe. You are with me, and I am not going to let anything else happen to you.”

Nodding somewhat hesitantly, you allowed her to inspect your face, crying out when her hand brushed across the bump on your head.

“What is it? What hurts?”

“Fell. Hit my head on the floor really hard.” You told her, every word feeling like cotton in your mouth as you tried your best to communicate.

“Did you lose consciousness?” Olga asked, sitting on the couch next to you, handing a towel to her girlfriend. Alexia pressed it to the cut on your shin, which was still bleeding.

“Maybe? Don’t really remember.”

The two other women exchanged looks, before they seemed to come to some kind of silent agreement.

“You might have a concussion, pequeña, and I think this needs stitches. I am going to take you to the hospital, okay?”

You considered. The hospital meant police, meant questions you didn’t want to answer. But you’d come here for help, and Alexia was just trying to give that to you.

“Okay.” You agreed, allowing them both to help you back to your feet. Before you could take a step, though, Alexia was tugging you into the softest hug you’d ever experienced, and it took all of your strength not to crumble completely.

“Thank you.” You mumbled shakily, voice muffled by Alexia’s t-shirt. She rubbed your back gently, using the hug to take a moment to pull herself together.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve got you, okay? Everything is going to be fine.”

You doubted that promise, all the way to the hospital. As you answered questions you were sure would make things not fine, as you got stitched up and scanned. When they took pictures of your injuries like you were some kind of victim. Especially when you told them your dad hadn’t meant it, and they exchanged disbelieving looks. It didn’t really feel like everything would be fine. It felt like everything was falling apart.

------

“Alexia, what the hell happened to her?” Olga asked, keeping her voice low so that you wouldn’t hear from where you were sitting on the lounge in the other room.

The blonde shook her head, face twisted with worry. “I don’t know. They wouldn’t let me in the room when they took her statement, and she hasn’t really been talking. It was her father, I know that.”

“Jesus.” Olga sighed, pulling out what she needed to make you something to eat. “They let you bring her here, though?”

Her girlfriend shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. I… I signed a bunch of forms to be declared her temporary guardian. But, amor, I can take her to my Mami’s, she wouldn’t mind. This is not your responsibility, and I wouldn’t want to-”

“Do not be ridiculous. She’ll stay right here. Ingrid and Mapi are nearby, so many of your other teammates too. She needs them, and she needs you. Of course she’ll stay.” Olga said incredulously, as if she’d never considered another option.

Alexia’s face softened before she all but tackled her girlfriend in a hug. “I love you.”

Olga held her tight, trying to provide some reassurance. “I love you too. Now go try and see if she feels like talking. I’ll bring her something to eat in a second.”

You startled when Alexia took her seat next to you, before trying to muster up a smile. It felt weak, and pulled at the cut on your cheek, but it was the best you could do.

“Your caseworker texted me. They’ve arrested your father.” Alexia said carefully, watching as a myriad of emotions flashed across your face. “So tomorrow, we can go and get your stuff, and move you into the guest room.”

That felt too good to be true, there was just no way. No way that Alexia would want you to move in with her. Why would she want that?

“I can’t… I can’t go home?” You asked. You didn’t want to, and you did. You craved your home, but you also craved safety, and those two things were not congruent.

Why would you want to go back there? Alexia wondered. She had to remind herself that this was more complicated than she could even comprehend, and she had no business questioning how you were feeling. It was complicated, of course it was. “No. Not by yourself, and you aren’t going back there when your father gets home, either. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“I can stay by myself.” You argued weakly. “You don’t have to let me move in. You don’t have to do that, I can be responsible, I can take care of myself.”

Your captain shut her eyes tightly, guilt flooding through her. You were thinking of Alexia’s harsh words to you a few days ago, and she could tell.

If there was anything you despised, it was being late. It was the fourth time in the past two weeks, too, and though you hadn’t really been scolded yet, you knew it was coming. Sure enough, as you practically ran through the building towards the locker room, you saw Alexia and Irene waiting by the door. Seemingly, for you.

Your text warning them that you’d be late apparently hadn’t done anything to reduce their anger.

You slowed down as you got to them, trying to ignore the anxiety that rose in you at the idea of being in trouble.

“Hi.” You said meekly, stopping in front of them as they glared at you.

“What time does training start?” Alexia asked, her voice cold.

“10:00.” You mumbled.

“And that means on the pitch at 10, all ready to go, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“What time is it right now?” Irene chimed in.

Your face was burning with embarrassment, your eyes trained on your shoes as you refused to look up at your captains. “10:20.”

“This is the fourth time in two weeks.” Irene sighed. “Where were you?”

“I… I slept through my alarm.” You lied. There was no way you could admit the truth. What you were doing was your business, it was private. And you knew that if your captains found out what was going on, they would involve themselves. And you didn’t want to burden them.

Alexia’s face hardened. She felt like you were lying, but she had no evidence to back that up. And even so, she couldn’t understand why you would be lying. Teenagers were weird, she reminded herself. And difficult.

“That is unacceptable. You are 17, yes, but you are on this team. You are expected to act responsible and prove that you care to be here. Showing up late does not prove to us that this is a priority for you. You are benched. Until you can get your act together.”

This wasn’t the first issue they’d been having with you. You’d been distracted and distant recently. Zoning out during training, skipping team bonding. You were quieter than normal, too, which really came off as you being annoyed by your teammates. Which you weren’t, not at all. You were just trying to get through. To get up every morning like everything was mine and make it to training. To get everything done that you needed, so that you could get out of your house. Where you would go when that happened, you weren't exactly sure. With the way your captains were looking at you right now, you knew you couldn’t go to them. They were upset, rightfully so. You just couldn’t do anything right.

“Ale-”

“No. I am disappointed in you. I expect you to be more responsible. Now go run your extra laps.”

With a sigh and a small nod, you headed off, completely missing the slightly concerned expressions that your captains were exchanging. You just weren't yourself, and they weren’t sure what to do about that.

Alexia hadn’t understood, then. She knew that something was off, but she didn’t know it was this bad. She’d scolded you for being irresponsible, and she knew now that was unfair. And that you’d very much taken it to heart. You’d let her help you before, when your body was in shock, everything in fight or flight mode.

Now, you were withdrawing, just as you’d been doing for weeks. This time, though, Alexia didn’t think it was just teenage carelessness anymore, or a rebellious phase. She could deal with her guilt for not understanding, for getting everything so wrong, later. For now, she had to make sure that you didn’t completely shut down.

“Listen to me. I didn’t mean any of what I said before. I didn’t know what was going on, but I do now. So let me help, okay? You don’t need to worry about anything. Just let me take care of it all.” She took your hand in hers, feeling it tremble in her grip. You looked conflicted, and though there were tears in your eyes, all your captain could do was look at the jagged cut on your cheek. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches, but she was pretty sure it would scar. A reminder, forever, of what someone who was supposed to love you had done.

All she wanted to do was make it better. “Tell me how I can help.” She asked, doing her best not to beg.

“I… um. I have a lawyer. I’ve been trying to get emancipated, I should call him.”

“I’ll call him tomorrow.” Alexia said quickly, watching the cautious vulnerability dawning across your face.

Olga walked in then, bringing both you and Alexia some food. You both ate in silence, not even the TV on to fill the void, before you leaned back into the couch and pulled your knees to your chest. You were safe, you knew you were safe, but you didn’t feel it. You didn’t feel much of anything, honestly. Your head hurt from the concussion, and the stitches in your shin pulled with every movement.

The physical pain, you could deal with. It was the threat of feeling that terrified you. You felt a pang of emotion every time you looked at Alexia, though, when you saw the concern on her face, so you tried your best not to look at her.

Your captain and her girlfriend exchanged looks, and Olga mumbled something about going to get you some ice cream, before she grabbed her wallet and keys and left the house.

Within a minute, Alexia was turning her whole body towards you, completely attentive. You didn’t want her attention, but you had it.

“What happened tonight, nena?”

You knew the question that was coming, yet still, you were wholly unprepared for it. You’d answered the questions earlier from the police, but that had been different. They had been strangers. They’d been sympathetic but professional. As much as you’d been trying to downplay what had happened in your head, you knew Alexia would be horrified to hear what had happened. And that would chip away at your very fragile belief that it hadn’t been that bad.

“You can tell me. Whatever happened, you can tell me.”

You decided to give her as few details as possible. “He was really drunk. He gets like this sometimes.”

“Violent?” Alexia asked bluntly.

“Not always. Most of the time he just yells.”

“But tonight? It was more than yelling?” She hated pushing you, but she needed to understand what had happened if she was going to be able to help.

You took a shaky breath before responding. “Yeah. When I got home from training, he was already drunk, yelling at me.”

“Was he angry about something?”

“He’s always angry.” You dismissed. “Always. Ever since mom… he didn’t want me, not really. And now mom is gone and he’s stuck with me. I think he hates me. I mean, I know he does. He tells me all the time. That’s what he was yelling about. How much he hated me.”

You sounded detached, which Alexia was sure wasn’t healthy, but she pressed on anyway, knowing that you needed to tell her what happened, and only then could she help. “What happened then?”

“He broke my bedroom door down and threw the bottle of vodka at me. I hit my head trying to dodge it, but I think it hit me anyway. I broke the window open and climbed out. And then… I don’t really remember. Then I was here.” You went through it blankly, as numbly as if it had happened to someone else.

“Oh, nena.” Alexia sighed, truly incapable of understanding how someone could be so cruel to you. You were shaking again as you glanced up at your captain with watering eyes and a trembling lip. “Cariño, I am so sorry this happened.”

You shrugged one shoulder, trying to keep your tears at bay, but your captain persisted.

“You are safe now, do you understand? I will never let him hurt you again, ever.”

This time, there was no response from you.

“Nena, look at me.” Alexia pressed, her eyes wide as they met yours. “You are safe with me, I promise you.”

You wanted to believe her, you really did. Trust was hard, though. Only harder now. If your father could hurt you and not feel any remorse, what was to say other people would feel differently? What’s to say you could trust anyone?

Alexia could practically see you come to that conclusion. Your body tensed back up, you leaned away from her, and your face grew completely blank. She wondered if she hadn’t been so harsh the other day, if you’d still be so wary of her. It wasn’t complete distrust, because you’d shown up on her doorstep and that was something. You were trying to protect yourself. Alexia couldn’t blame you for being so afraid, she really couldn’t.

“Thank you for letting me stay here.” You told her, unsure if your shaky voice was doing a very good job conveying just how grateful you were. “I know having a 17 year old disaster move into the house you share with your girlfriend probably wasn’t something you were hoping for-”

“If I had known what was going on, I would have gotten you out of there a very long time ago.” Alexia interrupted, cursing herself when you blanched and looked at her with wide eyes.

“I don’t get it.” You mumbled after a second. “You don’t have to do this, do any of it. Why are you doing this for me?”

Alexia wished you were joking, wished she couldn’t hear the genuine wonder in your voice that someone would go out of their way to help you.

“Because I care about you.” Alexia said simply. “We all do, every single member of the team. And you are welcome here for as long as you want to stay here.”

“But Olga,”

“Olga would pick up every stray dog on the side of the road and bring it home if I let her. She doesn’t mind that you’re here.”

“I’m not a stray dog.”

“No, you aren’t. I was just pretty sure you’d think the dog to be worthy of a home. Just like I think you are.”

It was a jarring thought. The realization that you did, indeed, think of a dog as more worthy of a home than you were was a shock to your system. You weren’t sure when you’d stopped being so angry, and started believing the words shouted at you, but somewhere along the way, you’d lost yourself. Without even realizing.

Alexia continued. “If Olga had driven by you walking here, and had no idea who you were, she would have brought you home. She would have done exactly what she did earlier. That’s who she is. She’s happy to have you here, happy to help. Really, pequeña. I promise.”

You nodded, the only acknowledgement you gave her that you’d registered what she said. “She’s been gone for a while, I thought she was just going to get ice cream?”

Alexia smiled slightly, glancing away from you. “She’s been in the drive for 10 minutes, she wanted us to finish talking without any interruptions.”

You frowned at her and your captain tensed, suddenly worried she shouldn’t have told you that. Worried that you’d wrench away from her and resist the help she and Olga were trying to give you.

Instead, you looked at her like she was a bit stupid. “The ice cream is going to be melted, Ale.”

The blonde relaxed back into the sofa, a huff of laughter falling from her lips. She’d forgotten how seriously you took your ice cream. It was difficult to mesh together the two versions of you in her mind; the one she knew that was happy and carefree, except when it came to the texture of your ice cream. And the one sitting in front of her, broken.

“Well, do you want to talk more or-”

“If Olga walks in and my ice cream is melted, this night will really be ruined.” You deadpanned, more amused at the surprise on Ale’s face than you were at your own joke. You didn’t like how she’d been looking at you. Anything to break the tension, anything to distract from what had happened.

The distraction didn’t last long, because your head was beginning to hurt and you were too exhausted to really hide your pain. The look of sympathy returned to Ale’s face, and to Olga’s, and it wasn’t long after you finished your ice cream that you were ushered up to bed.

If the universe was kind, a dreamless sleep would follow. You were beginning to think the universe was cruel.

------

You liked to think that your mom visited you in your dreams. Sometimes, they were good dreams. Warm and kind of fuzzy, but unquestionably filled with love. You found that the good dreams were the hardest to remember. The bad ones were the easiest, maybe because more often than not, they were memories.

Of course, the dream you had almost as soon as you’d drifted off to sleep was a bad one. It was flashes of a day that made you sick to think about. It had been a week after the funeral, and you’d yet to realize that the father you’d grown up with was gone for good. Though, that realization would come soon.

A few of your friends had insisted on taking you out to grab coffee. It had been agonizing, sitting and listening to them try to distract you. It was still wallowing time, you argued. You were allowed to lay in bed in a ball and cry for as long as you needed to. Grief wasn’t a process that could be rushed.

Of course, your father would try. The dream grew hazy as it continued, flashes of memories more than anything. Your arrival home from coffee. The realization that he was stuffing your mom’s stuff into garbage bags and boxes, labeled for donation or trash. You remembered the way your blood had boiled; fury rising that he was trying to erase her. As if that would make it any easier.

You remembered the way you pushed him away from her closet, tears running down your face. Your voice had trembled as you’d cursed at him, begged him not to get rid of all her stuff. He’d cursed right back, pushed right back. Told you that he couldn’t live in a house so full of memories of her. The way he’d said it, implying that you were nothing more than a painful reminder of her. A weight had settled on your chest when your first instinct was to run for your mom, and tell her what your father had said.

You couldn’t do that anymore. There was nowhere to run to. You pushed him again, and he pushed back again. You fell to the floor, looking up at him just in time to see how horrified he looked at himself. He looked down at you in complete horror, shocked at himself for what he’d done. He backed out of the room, repeating apologies over and over.

That was one of the last glimpses of the father you’d known all your life that you’d had. And it would never not haunt you that you’d been the one to make things physical the first time. That made it your fault. All of it was your fault.

The dream ended as it always did, with you grabbing what you could from the bags and the boxes, stuffing it all into your closet. It ended with you pulling on her favorite sweatshirt, the one she’d worn the most. It smelled like her perfume still, and you got under the covers of your bed, burying your nose in the fabric. You cried, and you pretended your mom was there with you, though she never would be again.

You woke as you always did, face wet with tears, but this time with a horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’d left all her stuff in the house. You’d come here without it, and you needed it. Needed it now, needed to be surrounded by her like you’d been on that day.

It was with a blind dedication that you slipped out of Alexia’s guest bed, put some shoes on, and went out the front door. You couldn’t leave her stuff there. Not in the house that reeked of alcohol and hatred and sadness.

------

Alexia was pretty sure she knew where you’d gone, even if she’d couldn’t understand why. When Olga shook her awake, though, and told her that she’d heard the front door shut, Alexia knew you’d fled. And she knew you’d gone back to that house. Back to the place you still considered home, somehow. As Alexia pulled into your driveway, she reminded herself that she couldn’t understand. Growing up, she’d only ever felt love in her house. She’d never been through what you’d been through, never felt anything but safe with her parents. So it didn’t make sense to her that you’d go back. Not when you’d been trying to get out in the first place. But it didn't’ need to make sense to her, because it made sense to you. And you were her only concern.

The front door was unlocked, and Alexia opened it carefully; the last thing she wanted was to frighten you further. The house was dark and cold, and it smelled heavily of alcohol. She followed the only light she could see down the hall to what she assumed to be your bedroom. The door bore the marks of your fathers fists, the wood dented and peeling.

Before she even stepped into the room, Alexia could hear you crying softly. You were neatly folding up clothes and putting them into a duffel bag. The precision with which you worked completely contrasted how disheveled you looked; each shirt and sweater folded as if it would disintegrate if you weren’t careful.

Alexia paused in the doorway, not sure there was any way she could let you know she was here without scaring you. It seemed like you were lost in your head, regardless. Your face was set tightly, a grimace etched across it, but your hands trembled, and tears fell almost continuously. It was as if you were too emotional to keep your feelings at bay, but simultaneously felt too unsafe to really let go. Your despair leaked out like your tears did, a little bit at a time.

Your captain wasn’t sure she’d ever seen someone look so haunted and so numb at the same time.

“Pequeña?” She spoke as quietly and soothingly as she could, yet still, you jumped half a foot into the air, a fearful whimper escaping. “It’s okay, it’s just me. It’s just me, you’re okay.”

“Ale.” You mumbled, recognizing your captain in front of you. It hadn’t even been a thought that Alexia would get up and come after you. The consequences of your actions seemed so far away, like you were just acting with no follow up. There was only the present, because if you thought too hard about there being a tomorrow, you weren’t sure you could survive it.

“Hey.” Alexia cooed, taking tiny steps closer to you, moving like a snail. She sat down a safe distance away, looking curiously into the bag you were packing. You knew Alexia was wondering why you were here, and honestly, you were too. It had made sense, when you’d awoken from your nightmare and left her house. It didn’t make as much sense now. “What are you doing back here?”

There was no accusation in her tone, no frustration or annoyance, yet still, you felt the need to explain yourself. “I woke up, and I just… I had to come get a few things.”

Alexia didn’t point out that it was the middle of the night, and that certainly such a task could wait until the following day. She just nodded in understanding, even though she didn’t understand, and tried to think of another question to ask. One that wouldn’t be too much, but one that might get her some more answers. Because truly, your captain was at a complete loss on what to do here.

“What did you need to get?” She asked casually. This was normal, she decided. She’d pretend this was normal, and maybe then, you’d talk.

You were almost done packing the clothes. It was an odd assortment of items that Alexia had seen you place in the bag. Mostly t-shirts and sweatshirts. And she’d never seen you wear any of it before.

You didn’t reply right away, picking up the last sweatshirt and pulling it on. It was faded, too big on you, and there was a hole in the sleeve, but your entire body relaxed once it was on. Not much, but a noticeable amount. “Just some clothes.”

“I’ve never seen that sweatshirt before.” Alexia commented, a wave of sadness washing over her as she began to connect the dots.

“Yeah, it’s- it was my mom’s.” You whispered. “I just really needed to get this stuff. Sorry for leaving without saying anything.”

Alexia looked at you, seeing a younger version of herself. Wearing a shirt that was much too big on her to bed, convincing herself that if she inhaled deep enough, it would still smell like him. Even if she couldn’t quite remember what that scent even was.

“That’s okay, nena, I’m not upset.” The blonde gazed out the window for a moment, noticing the sun peaking above the horizon. It was bathing the room in a soft golden glow, and she noticed for the first time the broken bottle on the floor. The rest of the room was warm and soft, very you, but that bottle seemed to mar the entire atmosphere. It was a stain, and Alexia understood, suddenly, why you needed the clothes.

You wanted the sweatshirt for comfort, yes. But this room had probably been the last place in the house that had remained untouched from your father and his cruelties. And now it had been ruined, and you couldn’t bear the thought of your most favorite possessions remaining here. Especially when you’d left.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and spoke quietly, almost as if you’d read Alexia’s mind. “This is all I really have left of her. He got rid of the rest of it but I managed to save some of her clothes. I… I just didn’t want to leave them behind.”

Didn’t want to leave her behind. Not in the place that had turned into hell after she’d gone.

You were trying to be strong, Alexia could tell. Jaw clenched, blinking hard. Wiping carelessly at the never ending stream of tears. Alexia remembered trying to be strong, too. How it hadn’t even been something she wanted, it was just something she did.

“Tell me about your mom.” The request escaped without her permission, and she jerked her head in your direction fearfully, terrified that it had been too much. Your lips were turning up at the corners, though, just a bit. Tears still fell, but you did as she asked.

“She was really funny. We had the same sense of humor, I think, so everything she found funny, I found funny. She’d tell a joke I was already thinking.”

Alexia hummed, a gentle encouragement as she inched closer to you. You were smiling a bit more now, still in the part of remembering that didn’t yet hurt.

“She always helped me with my homework after school, and she always tucked me in at night. Even when I was way too old for it.”

You took a deep breath. It was overwhelming, the love you felt for her. It felt like love, but it also felt like grief. Hot, painful, lingering grief. Still, once you’d started, you didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to ever stop remembering every good thing about her.

“She used to watch videos of people explaining football strategies, so we could talk about them. Even when she was sick she still… still watched. She never missed a game, even when she was doing treatment. She’d sit in her car and watch from the parking lot if she had too, but she never missed a game. I was always the most important thing to her. She used to say that being my mom was the best thing she’d ever been, that she’d ever be.”

“She sounds like a really good mom.” Alexia’s hand was on the back of your head, combing delicately through your hair. It felt nice. Safe.

“She was the best.” You choked out. “She gave the best hugs, and she told me she loved me everyday. And I really really miss her.” You tried to swallow the sob that threatened to force its way out, but you couldn’t. Your grief couldn’t be contained, not anymore. It was an almost unconscious movement, turning to bury your face in Alexia’s sweatshirt. Your body shook with cries, and your captain wrapped her arms around you tightly. As if she could hold you together.

You appreciated Alexia, more than you would probably ever be able to express. For being so patient, for coming after you, for asking about your mom. For hugging you and holding you tightly as she promised that everything would be okay. But Alexia wasn’t the person you wanted.

The blonde didn’t understand the first time you said it, your words muffled by the soft fabric of her sweatshirt. But the second time, she did, and it felt like her heart was plummeting out of her chest.

“I want my mom, Ale,” you sobbed. “I just- I want my mom,”

She felt your words in her soul, and in that moment she would have done anything to give you what you wanted. It didn’t work like that, though, and she knew that all too well. So, she rubbed your back and kissed the top of your head. She rocked you gently, and made promises. To herself, and to you.

“I know, I know you do.” She soothed. “I’m so sorry, cariño. Everything is going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

You only cried harder, and Alexia felt like crying too.

Nothing felt okay. But Alexia had you, and you believed that. Or at least, you wanted to.

------

Well. Have a good night everyone. tell me if you notice any typos 🥺. also tell me if you enjoyed this because i am so incredibly unsure about it.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso imagines #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #platonic reader #alexia putellas x platonic reader

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dearsnow · 6 months ago

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YOUR BAR BOYFRIEND

- after being harassed by a drunken stranger, your bar boyfriend swoops in to save the day (bob floyd x fem!reader, fluff, reader is intended to be on the quieter/more introverted side, but if you’re not like that you can ignore that one line ⚠️ verbal sexual harassment, drinking).

PART 2

word count: 1,206

a/n - tell a friend to tell a friend… SHE’S BAAACKKKK!!!! i’m so glad to be back to writing, y’all have no idea how much i missed it. i’ll probably be a bit rusty until i find my rhythm, so please ignore the not-top-quality writing until then. also, feel free to send in requests or chat!!

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, I have a boyfriend.” You utter apologetically, side-stepping the arm of the man in front of you. He reeks of beer and a hard day’s work, his scruffy face all too unkept in the lighting of the bar. You can’t even fathom exactly why you’re in the bar in the first place- you’ve never been one to explore, but this man is making you feel like you never want to leave your house again.

Your eyes scan the room, but no one seems to notice your predicament. The bar is full of Navy men, surely one of them would be fine with pretending to help you. “C’mon, sugar, one drink. Thas’ all ya have to do. If it goes well, hey, I wouldn’t mind one fuck either.” He grins, winking. The hope that you held in your heart is quickly dissipating. “He don’t have to know.” You feel your stomach drop as he moves to grab your hand, but an firm grip shoves his fingers away instead.

“Honey, is this guy bothering you?” A voice behind you speaks. You quickly turn around.

“I… yeah.” You stutter. You’re staring right into the face of a guy in a uniform, his jaw set as he glares at the drunk through his glasses.

He moves in front of you, creating a physical barrier between you and the significantly shorter man. Relief floods you. “Then I think he’d better leave before someone kicks him out, huh?”

The intoxicated man rolls his eyes, but frantically shuffles out the door of the bar. His gait was evidently terrified.

The tension is pulled from your shoulders, and you unintentionally sigh. The guy with glasses turns around to face you. His expression is softer now that the threat is gone, and his concern is almost cute.

“Are you alright?” He asks. “I’m sorry for the pet name thing, but I overheard you and I couldn’t really just stand there and watch. I’m Bob, by the way, Bob Floyd.” He reaches his hand out for you to shake, and as you do, his hesitates through his rambling.

You smile at him. “Thank you, Bob, I’m fine. And I don’t mind.” His grip is firm but not crushing, just like his presence. You introduce yourself, and he nods like he’s desperate to commit the sound of your name to memory. The respectful tone is honestly a breath of fresh air with the raucous energy of the Hard Deck, causing your cheeks to be a few degrees warmer when you pull your hand away. Our of the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe his somewhat clammy hands on the sides of his pants.

“Also, I’m sorry for taking the place of your actual boyfriend. I assumed you just didn’t know where he was, so I stepped in.” His eyes search for your own, holding steady eye contact. They’re the prettiest shade of blue you’ve ever seen.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I don’t actually have a boyfriend, but I thought a lie was the better choice. You saved me, and that’s all that matters.” Your voice has a certain breathy quality to it. You’ve completely transitioned from terror to being deeply attracted to the person who spared you an even more intense confrontation. Bob’s eyes widen just slightly.

He takes his hands away from his sides and motions to one of the tables in the corner, his face just the slightest bit pinker. “Would you want to sit down?”

You nod, and he leads the way. As he’s pulling out your chair for you, you can’t help but wonder how your night turned out this way. You went from having the worst night of your life to dizzily encountering the person you could only describe as being your bar boyfriend.

You just recently moved to this part of San Diego for a newfound job opportunity, completely unaware of your proximity to the Hard Deck and a Naval base. You didn’t know anyone or anything, and as someone who isn’t necessarily very outgoing, it was hard for you to adjust. Not even your coworkers were easy to make friends with, so you slowly became more and more isolated.

The bar was kind of your last resort. You didn’t expect to find anything great, and you still don’t know what compelled you to go, but some hidden part of you figured that at least you could get some form of entertainment. Finding Bob, though, you never expected.

Conversation feels easy with him. He seems like a quiet guy, but he knows exactly what to say to keep you talking, and he offers insights of his own that just further the subject you’re talking about. Words fly from your mouths, and you can say that you’ve never enjoyed talking more. You bounce from common topics like work and hobbies to deeper breakdowns of memories and experiences, your smile growing wider every second. You’re completely in a world that was built brick by brick for you and him.

You’re so lost in the moment that you don’t even notice the woman who rests her hand on the back of your chair until she speaks. “Bob, you of all people? Never would’ve expected you to abandon us for a pretty girl.”

Bob reddens as you turn to face her. “Sorry, Nat.”

She holds a hand out to you, which you shake. “Call me Phoenix. He’s my backseater, and apparently a lady killer tonight.”

Bob stands as Phoenix gives him a pointed look. “Sorry to steal him away from you, but he’s taken way too long of a break from our pool game. I’ll give him back to you later.”

“You say that like I’m a robot.” He grumbles, showing just a hint of disappointment at having to leave your conversation.

You wave him away. “Have fun, Bob. I’d better go anyways.”

“Wait-“ he starts as you stand up, “-could I give you my number first?”

You secretly cheer inside of your head. You nod, and he takes a pen out of his shirt pocket. “Here.” He mumbles, writing it on a spare napkin and handing it to you. His fingers brush over yours, sending electrifying sparks throughout your entire body. You could get used to this feeling, you think. His hand hovers for a split second before regretfully moving away. “It’s, uh, it’s up to you, but I’d really like it if you called or texted. I had a nice time with you.”

You tuck the napkin into your bag, eyes soft. Bob thinks he’s never seen a sight so beautiful- the sun is setting behind you, and it casts you in a golden light as your mouth quirks up. “Of course I will. I had a nice time with you too.”

Your voice is quiet, but a sound that he relishes all the same. He could’ve gotten lost in you if Phoenix wasn’t impatiently tapping her foot next to him.

She pulls him away, and though he knows he’s up for a lot of teasing, Bob can’t find it in himself to care. He just knows that he needs to see you again, and you know that no matter what, you’ll make it happen.

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bunnys-kisses · 6 months ago

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john price - a ramble cw: pwp, chokehold, daddy kink, breeding, possessive behaviour, baby trapping, drabble, dark-ish themes(?)

price can be a bit of a asshole. he loves seein' his girl squirm in his arms as he thrusts into your tight cunt. you couldn't fit him the first time you got together. he spent all night working your pussy until you were wet enough to let him fuck you. but you were such a good girl for him, weren't ya? he held you almost a choke-hold, not hard enough to cut the air but enough to keep you under him. he heard your pathetic little noises, 'you know when daddy's rough with ya? let me take what i want, because you're my good girl." his voice was like thunder in the back of your mind. you made a pathetic little noise and he moved your head up to face him. he heavily made out with you as his heavy balls hit against your ass. he told you he had breedin' balls and you weren't leaving his sights until he got you nice and bred. but don't worry, he'll take good care of ya. daddy makes sure his girl is right as rain.

"my girl." his voice was like heaven. your brain felt like goo that was daring to slip out your ear. you ignored all the red flags, the possessiveness, the willingness to breed you without as much as a conversation about it. you knew logistically he was tryin' to baby trap you. but the heat in your gut was yelling for the feelin' of price's cum in your pussy. to know he claimed you as his. a mark you couldn't get rid of. it made all the chemicals in your brain ignore the rational side of it. you choke out a moan as he squeezed your throat a little tighter. his cock rammed into your pussy. he spewed more filth into your ear as he moved. the bed squeaked under you. he said in a low ton, his accent thick on his tongue, "my good girl. ya, you know you are. that's why you'll never run and hide from me. because if you do, yeah? ya know what would happen?" his breath was hot on your ear, "i'd find ya, hunt ya to the corners of the earth. my baby girl ain't gettin' away that easy." he chuckled, "but you're just so good to me. you'd never leave me. you love me." love was heavy on his tongue. you whimpered in response, your head was swimming. he turned your head to look over your shoulder so he could kiss you. he was domineering, he was possessive and at times a man that you should be afraid of. but you could only bury your head in the pillows and let out a string of pathetic moans. his cock kept you full, you were drunk off it. the whole night you had been together, as he took you apart and examined what made you tick. what made his baby girl feel so good.

and you'd let him. as he came inside of you for the first time that night. you let him be the controlling freak he was. mark you, claim you, own you. if anyone saw you in that moment, they'd think you were a joke to feminism. but you moaned into the pillows and arched your back, so for the second round he could press against your cervix even. his soft words made you see stars, "that's it. that's a good girl."

but in the end, no matter how much you thought otherwise, you were price's good girl <3

#bunny writes #call of duty #bunny drabbles #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #price call of duty #price cod #captain john price #captain price smut #john price smut #price smut #captain price #price x you #john price x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader

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with-my-calamitous-love · 18 days ago

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more gentlemen thoughts 🫧❄️

gentleman! katsuki, who cooks for you. who acts annoyed when he does it, but who’s heart feels warm when he sees you enjoy it. who insists you lay your head on his chest, his shoulder or his muscular biceps, loving the way your body goes slack with tiredness when you’re against him. who facetimes you every night and makes sure you’re not paused so he can see your face. who tells you he loves you right before drifting off.

gentleman! shouto, who enjoys reading to you. who shares with you little excerpts of poetry and stories that make him think of you. who was never really a fan of love songs of matching accessories until he fell in love with you. who randomly texts you photos of things that make him think of you. who holds your hair back when your sick or drunk. who takes your hand and twirls you around so he can admire how beautiful you are.

gentleman! izuku, who is a sucker for back hugs. who presses kisses all over your neck and underneath your ear, whispering you a good morning and staying glued there. who feels comfortable enough with you to ramble on about what he loves, getting flustered when he realizes how much of a nerd he’s sounding like. who kisses your scars or your birthmarks. who loves to show you off, whether its to his friends, family, students, or anyone he knows. who’s loved ones know about you merely because of how often he brings you up.

gentleman! eijiro, who loves to pick you up, whether thats princess style or throwing you over his shoulder. who is a mountain of a man, but is so gentle and so clingy towards you. who always sends you selfies of him pre and post workout, oblivious to the pink it paints on your face. who loves long drives with you, your feet on the dashboard while you both sing along to whatever’s on the radio. who turns it up when he knows its a song you love. who is such a good driver its actually sexy.

gentleman! denki, who knows your coffee order better than you do. who will pull all-nighters with you, staying up and making sure you’re not alone. who loves to tickle you and acts like a baby when you tickle him back. who likes carrying you on his back and shoulders, doing dumb shit together. who lets you sit between his legs while he plays video games on the floor. who makes you his profile picture on instagram, and who makes his gamertag your birthday. who is really good with younger cousins and siblings, it makes your heart flutter.

gentleman! hitoshi, who wears your scrunchies, your hoodies and your big t shirts when he misses you. whose clothes are mostly at your house, in your bedroom on your bed. who won’t even think about going to sleep until your comfortable, and even then likes to watch you to ease his own anxieties. who is really good with validating your emotions, easing your worries and comforting you through sadness, since he’s had so much himself. who has the deepest voice when he’s tired, dragging out his y’s when he’s talking to you. who loves to lazily kiss you good morning and goodnight.

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urdreamydoodles · 15 days ago

Note

hi hi! I love your writing and was wondering about what you’d think everyone’s reaction to a drunk us. Maybe we went drinking together and were a lightweight or something (idk 🥲) anyways thank youuuuu!!!

X-Men x Drunk!Reader (Part.1)

How they deal with their drunk s/o (Part.1)

A night out with your partner quickly turns wild as your tipsy self unleashes a little chaos around.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Bobby Drake, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Emma Frost, Raven Darkhölme & Laura Kinney

I was extremely inspired by this prompt, thank you <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan is absolutely used to handling chaos, but nothing quite prepares him for the brand of trouble you unleash when tipsy. When you’re several drinks in and decide it’s a good idea to start a spontaneous dance battle with some random patrons, Logan just sighs and crosses his arms, watching with a mix of amusement and exasperation. He’s tempted to pull you away but can’t deny how much he’s enjoying the show.

- He’s mostly unfazed when you start taking your "battle" a bit too far, challenging one particularly large guy to a dance-off. Logan leans against the bar with a smirk, ready to step in if things get out of hand. He figures you can handle yourself, but if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s already prepared to make his presence known.

- When you stumble over to him, grinning like you’ve just won a gold medal, he can't help but chuckle, pulling you close and whispering, “You’re a handful, y’know that?” But it’s clear he’s enjoying this different side of you, especially when you insist on dragging him onto the dance floor despite his protests. Logan grumbles but lets you lead, his usual stoicism softening just for you.

- It’s when you try to order “a round for everyone” on his tab that Logan decides enough is enough. He firmly wraps an arm around your waist and steers you away from the bar, muttering about how he’s “not made of money” as you laugh and lean into him. He’s torn between scolding you and letting out a laugh of his own.

- On the walk home, you ramble about the night, sharing exaggerated stories and embellishments that make Logan roll his eyes but secretly cherish every word. Despite his gruff exterior, he listens to every detail, finding the way you see the world endlessly entertaining and a perfect counterbalance to his own guarded nature.

- By the time you’re back, Logan’s more than happy to tuck you in, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You’re finally starting to settle, mumbling something about how much fun you had with him. He just smiles, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re trouble,” he murmurs, though you can hear the affection in his voice. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy absolutely thrives on chaos, and he’s more than ready to encourage it the moment he sees you’ve had a few drinks. When you suddenly decide it’s a great idea to “borrow” someone’s hat and start spinning it around like a magician, Remy’s right there, egging you on with a wicked grin and suggesting even wilder antics. “Go on, chérie, show ‘em what you got.”

- He’s delighted when you turn to him with that mischievous sparkle in your eye, pulling him into your impromptu show. You two quickly become the center of attention as he plays along, letting you use his trench coat for added flair while he flourishes a deck of cards with his signature charm, drawing oohs and ahhs from the crowd.

- When you start loudly declaring that Remy’s “the best-looking man in the room,” he just smirks and pulls you close, whispering, “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know, ma belle.” You can tell he’s absolutely eating up every bit of attention, and he makes sure to dip you dramatically on the dance floor, laughing along with you.

- Things escalate when you decide to start a card game with some nearby strangers, with Remy’s deck, of course. You might be a little hazy on the rules, but he’s having too much fun watching you bluff your way through. The two of you make a formidable (if slightly unorthodox) team, charming everyone at the table with your combined wit and unpredictability.

- Remy makes sure to keep you steady when you start wobbling a bit, an arm always draped around your shoulders as he guides you from one bit of chaos to the next. He’s vigilant without being obvious, letting you have your fun while ensuring no one gets too handsy or tries to take advantage of your state.

- When the night winds down, he insists on carrying you back if you’re stumbling, laughing when you protest that you can walk just fine. Once home, he lays you on the bed with exaggerated gentleness, grinning down at you with that signature smirk of his. “Ma belle, you certainly know how t’ keep things interestin’,” he whispers before placing a soft kiss on your hand. For Remy, nights like this with you are what make life exciting.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt is simultaneously amused and a bit alarmed when he realizes you’re tipsy. He’s not used to you being so bold, so when you start loudly complimenting him and declaring him “the handsomest guy in the room,” his cheeks turn a dark shade of blue. He tries to calm you down, but you’re too busy grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the dance floor.

- At first, Kurt’s hesitant to join you, worried that his appearance might draw stares. But you’re so unbothered and so full of joy that he can’t help but relax, letting you lead him. His movements are clumsy but endearing, and he laughs along with you, his tail swishing in rhythm as he finally lets go of his worries, at least for tonight.

- When you start insisting on “showing everyone his bamf trick,” Kurt chuckles nervously, trying to talk you out of it. But you’re persistent, so he finally gives in, teleporting the two of you across the room in a puff of smoke. Your delighted laughter is infectious, and he starts teleporting you both to random spots around the club, filling the room with giggles and gasps from onlookers.

- Eventually, you try to climb up on a table to make an “important announcement,” and Kurt quickly teleports you back down before you can get too carried away. He’s laughing as he steadies you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes. “Mein liebe, maybe we should stick to safer activities, ja?” he teases, holding your hands firmly in his.

- As the night goes on, Kurt never strays far from your side. He’s a mixture of amused, charmed, and just a little bit flustered by your antics, but he’s also keenly aware of the attention you’re drawing. When anyone tries to get a little too close, he’ll bamf in between you and them, a protective look on his face as he politely but firmly keeps them at bay.

- Once you’re back home, he’s the sweetest caretaker, making sure you’re comfortable and tucking you in with a gentle smile. He holds your hand as you drift off, murmuring softly in German about how lucky he is to have someone as vibrant and fearless as you in his life. Even in your chaotic moments, Kurt’s love for you only grows stronger.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott is a bit hesitant when he notices you’ve had a few too many drinks, but he’s dedicated to making sure you’re safe and enjoying yourself. When you start insisting on trying to wear his visor and “see the world through his eyes,” he’s both flustered and exasperated, gently guiding your hands away with a laugh. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want that,” he says, trying to keep a straight face as you pout.

- You surprise him by dragging him onto the dance floor, and Scott, ever the responsible one, initially tries to decline. But seeing you so excited and insistent, he finally gives in. He might be awkward at first, but he quickly adjusts to your rhythm, even pulling you close and twirling you in an attempt to match your enthusiasm.

- When you declare loudly to a few nearby patrons that Scott Summers is “the best and most handsome leader,” he can’t help but blush. He’s clearly flattered and a bit embarrassed by the attention, but he just nods, smiling shyly, as you shower him with compliments. He feels oddly proud of your open affection, even if he’s a little overwhelmed by it.

- Scott keeps a close eye on you throughout the night, gently steering you away from any potential trouble or prying eyes. When someone bumps into you, causing you to stumble, he’s right there to steady you, one hand firmly on your waist. He’s the picture of a protective boyfriend, subtly keeping others at bay while still letting you enjoy yourself.

- When you start to get a little too loud and insist on “making a toast to the greatest mutant leader ever,” Scott decides it’s probably time to get you home. He chuckles softly, catching your hand and guiding you out of the club, all the while listening to your increasingly dramatic proclamations of love and admiration. He’s touched by it all, even if he won’t admit it.

- Back home, Scott helps you settle in, making sure you’re comfortable and well-hydrated. He sits by your side, holding your hand as you drowsily tell him how much you love him. Scott just smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, even when you’re a handful,” he murmurs, content to stay by your side until you fall asleep.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean is equal parts entertained and concerned when she realizes you’re tipsy. She’s usually the responsible one, but she can’t help but laugh when you start slurring your words and calling her your “favorite telepathic goddess.” Jean blushes, clearly flattered by your adoration, and gently shushes you, though she’s clearly enjoying every second of it.

- When you start dancing wildly, Jean initially tries to calm you down, worried about drawing attention. But seeing the joy in your eyes, she eventually lets her guard down and joins you, holding your hands and spinning you around as you laugh. She’s surprisingly graceful and a fantastic dancer, easily matching your energy and guiding you through the moves.

- At one point, you insist that you and Jean “show off your telepathic connection” to the crowd. Jean laughs, gently steering you away from the idea. Instead, she subtly uses her powers to make sure you don’t stumble, mentally guiding you to stay upright and steady. Her subtle help goes unnoticed by you, but she’s just relieved to see you having fun.

- Jean finds herself laughing even more when you start a friendly debate with a nearby stranger about the “genius” of her red hair. She can’t believe how fiercely you’re defending her beauty, even as you insist it’s a “scientific fact” that she’s the most gorgeous woman in the room. Jean’s cheeks flush, and she wraps an arm around your waist, whispering, “You’re adorable, you know that?”

- When you start to get tired, Jean’s the perfect caretaker, gently guiding you out of the bustling club. She makes sure you’re cozy, even grabbing her own jacket to drape over your shoulders. She keeps a hand on you the entire way home, reassuring you and quietly laughing at your sleepy, affectionate murmurs.

- Once back, Jean gets you settled on the couch, brushing stray hair out of your face with the softest smile. You reach for her hand, mumbling something about how lucky you are to have her. She blushes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m the lucky one,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as she sits by your side until you drift off.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo is incredibly amused when she realizes you’re tipsy; she’s rarely seen this side of you, and she finds it adorable. When you start calling her your “queen of the skies” and insisting she “make it rain just for fun,” she laughs and gently pats your cheek, reminding you that some powers are best kept for emergencies.

- You grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor, much to her surprise. Ororo might be a graceful and poised leader, but she has a playful side too. She lets you lead, laughing as you spin her around, her silver hair flowing around her as she dances with surprising ease. It’s a rare sight, and you can tell she’s having fun, loosening up just for you.

- When you start loudly telling everyone nearby that “Ororo is the most powerful woman in the world,” she tries to shush you, laughing softly. She’s both flattered and slightly embarrassed by the attention, but she allows you to bask in her presence. She’ll gently tease you for your enthusiasm, a fond look in her eyes as she watches you defend her honor.

- Ororo’s always watching out for you, subtly guiding you away from any potential trouble. If you start to stumble or look a little too wobbly, she’s right there to steady you, her hand on your shoulder and a calm smile on her face. She finds a certain joy in taking care of you, grateful for this softer side of your relationship.

- At one point, you try to “command the winds” like her, playfully imitating her powers. Ororo laughs, incredibly entertained by your antics. She doesn’t mind the teasing, and she even indulges you by summoning a soft breeze that ruffles your hair, making you gasp in delight. “See? The winds listen to you too,” she jokes with a wink.

- When you’re finally ready to head home, Ororo makes sure you’re comfortable, holding your hand and gently brushing your cheek as you murmur about how amazing she is. She chuckles softly, telling you stories of her adventures to help you relax. Once home, she tucks you in with a gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Sleep well, my love,” as she watches over you, content and deeply in love.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue is equal parts amused and nervous as she watches you go from a few drinks to a bit too tipsy. You start telling her she’s “the prettiest southern belle ever,” and she can’t help but blush and laugh, giving you a playful shove. But there’s a touch of worry in her eyes—she’s protective and feels a need to make sure you’re okay.

- When you try to dance with her, Rogue hesitates, but your enthusiasm is contagious. She ends up joining you, making sure to keep her gloved hands carefully in place. She’s gentle but full of energy, matching your moves while constantly keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t trip over your own feet. Her laughter is light and warm, and she looks almost carefree.

- You start raving about how amazing Rogue is, telling random people nearby how she’s “a hero who can’t even touch people, but still manages to save the world.” She gets a bit flustered and shy, trying to hush you with a soft “sugar, that’s enough,” but the pride in her eyes is unmistakable. No one’s ever praised her like that before, and it means a lot.

- When someone accidentally bumps into you, and you look about ready to start a tipsy argument, Rogue steps in with a charming Southern drawl and defuses the situation. She’s got a sweet, calming presence when she wants to, and she manages to steer you away with ease, laughing about it afterward while holding your arm gently.

- Rogue knows when you’re reaching your limit and insists on taking you home, using a soft but firm tone to make sure you listen. She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and seeing you a bit out of it brings out her nurturing side. “Alright, sugar, let’s get ya back before you do somethin’ we’ll both regret,” she says, guiding you with a patient smile.

- Once home, she sits with you, listening as you tell her how much you love her and appreciate her strength. Rogue’s heart swells with emotion, and she gently brushes a gloved hand along your cheek. “You’re somethin’ special, darlin’,” she murmurs, her voice warm and full of affection, staying with you until you’re sound asleep.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is a bit bemused but mostly wary when he notices you’re getting tipsy. He’s used to maintaining control in every situation, and your loosened inhibitions make him a bit nervous. But when you start complimenting his intelligence and calling him “the smartest, most powerful man in the room,” he lets a rare smile slip, finding your praise amusing.

- You start dragging him around, pointing at various metallic objects in the bar and insisting he show off his powers. He rolls his eyes at first, but he eventually indulges you by making a few small metallic items hover, just to see the joy on your face. Erik isn’t one to perform tricks, but he finds himself unable to say no to you.

- When you loudly declare that “Magneto is the future of mutantkind,” he tries to quiet you, but he’s clearly flattered by your support. He’s a man who’s used to admiration but doesn’t often receive it so openly. There’s a softness in his eyes as he places a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to your seat with a chuckle.

- Erik stays close to you, watching with an amused smile as you stumble through conversations and rant about how incredible he is. He’s fiercely protective, stepping in if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s calm, composed, and carries an air of authority that subtly warns others not to mess with you.

- At one point, you try to mimic his deep, imposing voice, quoting some of his more famous speeches. He’s visibly amused, and even a bit impressed at how well you remember his words. Erik finds your respect for his ideals endearing, and he places a gentle hand on your back, chuckling as he listens to your tipsy impression.

- When it’s time to leave, he’s entirely in control, guiding you out with a strong arm around your shoulders. Once home, Erik sits with you, listening as you share your adoration for him. He’s not the most openly affectionate man, but he reaches out, gently squeezing your hand as he says, “Your loyalty is a rare gift, and I don’t take it lightly.” He stays by your side, quietly protective, until you’re resting peacefully.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles is endlessly patient as you start to get a little tipsy, a gentle smile on his face as you go from poised to adorably unfiltered. When you begin praising his brilliance and calling him “the kindest genius in the world,” he chuckles, incredibly touched. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teases, his eyes warm with affection.

- You insist that he shows off his powers, and Charles tries to decline, but your insistence eventually makes him give in. He subtly uses his telepathy to give you an image of your favorite place, a soothing mental picture that instantly makes you smile. He finds joy in seeing you happy, and he uses his powers in the gentlest, most comforting way.

- Charles is protective and attentive, ensuring you’re comfortable and not getting yourself into any trouble. When you loudly declare your love for him in front of others, he’s both embarrassed and deeply moved, his cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re quite the charmer tonight,” he whispers, his voice filled with warmth as he gently holds your hand.

- When someone tries to join your conversation, and you’re too tipsy to notice their intentions, Charles politely but firmly steps in, his calm authority enough to send them on their way. He might be gentle, but he can be firm when needed, and he’s especially vigilant when it comes to keeping you safe.

- You start telling Charles that he’s the greatest leader mutantkind could ever ask for, and he’s genuinely humbled, listening with a fond smile as you praise his wisdom and kindness. He doesn’t always let himself accept such compliments, but coming from you, they mean the world to him, and he quietly thanks you with a soft, appreciative kiss on your hand.

- When it’s time to leave, he makes sure you’re steady, guiding you with gentle hands and a reassuring presence. Back home, he helps you get comfortable, listening as you continue to express your admiration for him. Charles smiles, stroking your hand and murmuring, “I’m grateful for your support more than you know.” He stays by your side, his calm and comforting presence grounding you until you drift off to sleep.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- Bobby finds your drunken antics both hilarious and endearing. As the night progresses, you start comparing him to a “walking snow cone” and insisting that he make ice sculptures for you on demand. Bobby, always up for a bit of fun, humors you by creating little ice animals in the palm of his hand, laughing as your eyes light up in delight.

- When you slip on an ice patch he accidentally created, Bobby quickly catches you, apologizing profusely while chuckling. You start calling him your “snow prince” and playfully berate him for “making the world slippery.” He just grins, his hold on you steady, clearly enjoying your tipsy declarations and the way you cling to him.

- You insist on taking selfies with him, urging him to freeze up cute little props for the photos. Bobby goes all out, conjuring up ice hats, snowflake glasses, and even a tiny ice crown for you. By the end, your phone is full of adorable photos of the two of you laughing and posing together.

- When you go off on a tangent, telling the bartender and anyone nearby how incredible Bobby is, he gets a bit bashful but loves every second. Bobby has always loved being the center of attention, but hearing you proudly gush about him has him smiling like a fool. He playfully nudges you, saying, “Keep it coming, babe; I don’t hear this enough!”

- When you get a bit too warm in the crowded room, Bobby uses his powers to create a gentle, cool breeze just for you. You giggle and thank him, calling him your “personal A/C,” and he chuckles, wrapping his arm around you and playfully cooling you down whenever you request it.

- By the end of the night, Bobby is happily holding you up, guiding you home with an arm around your shoulders. He listens as you continue to talk about how wonderful he is, and he just grins, giving you a quick, frosty kiss on the forehead. “You’re pretty amazing yourself,” he says, staying with you until you’re safely tucked in and fast asleep.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- Wanda is amused by how talkative and unfiltered you get when you’re drunk. She’s often quiet and reserved herself, so seeing you let loose makes her smile. You start rambling about how “beautiful and powerful” she is, and she blushes, trying to brush it off, but your sincerity warms her heart.

- When you ask her to use her powers to make things “magical,” Wanda gently warns you, not wanting to attract too much attention. But when she sees the hopeful look in your eyes, she can’t resist. With a subtle flick of her fingers, she makes tiny red sparks dance in the air around you, creating a little “magic show” that leaves you giggling with joy.

- At one point, you try to mimic her iconic hand gestures, waving your hands around dramatically as if casting a spell. Wanda laughs softly, guiding your hands in the proper motions. “Like this, darling,” she murmurs, her fingers intertwined with yours as she playfully shows you her “magic moves.”

- When someone bumps into you a bit too roughly, Wanda steps forward, a protective fire in her eyes. Though she doesn’t escalate the situation, there’s a warning in her gaze that makes the person quickly apologize. She holds you close, whispering, “You’re safe with me,” her voice soothing and reassuring.

- As the night goes on, you keep insisting that Wanda is “the most powerful and amazing person ever,” and she laughs, flattered by your drunken praise. “You might be a little biased,” she teases, but there’s a soft blush on her cheeks, and you can tell she’s deeply touched by your admiration.

- When it’s time to go home, Wanda wraps an arm around you, using a bit of her magic to guide you gently so you don’t stumble. Once you’re home, she stays with you, listening as you continue to talk about how much you adore her. She strokes your hair and whispers, “You mean the world to me too,” staying by your side until you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro finds your drunken state absolutely hilarious, especially when you start trying to mimic his super-speed by running around. He quickly catches you each time, his laughter filling the air as he playfully warns you that “You’re not quite fast enough, babe!”

- You start challenging him to races, even though you know he’ll win. Pietro humors you, letting you “win” a couple of times, but eventually, he zips past you with a playful smirk. “Better luck next time!” he teases, only to scoop you up and spin you around when you pout about losing.

- When you get tired, Pietro is immediately by your side, lifting you into his arms without a second thought. You giggle and tell him he’s “better than a rollercoaster,” and he laughs, racing around just to hear your delighted squeals. He loves seeing you happy and will do anything to keep you smiling.

- When someone looks at you a bit too long for Pietro’s liking, he’s instantly protective, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and making it very clear that you’re his. He glares at the person until they look away, then turns back to you with a soft smile, his fingers brushing your cheek affectionately.

- You start bragging to strangers about Pietro’s speed, telling them he’s “the fastest guy in the world,” and Pietro just laughs, loving how proud you are of him. “Keep it up, and I’ll have to show off even more,” he says, giving you a cheeky wink as he zips around the room, just to impress you.

- By the end of the night, he’s carrying you home, his arms strong and steady around you as he runs. You cling to him, your arms wrapped around his neck, and he smiles, whispering, “I’ve got you, always.” Once you’re home, Pietro stays by your side, listening as you drift off, mumbling about how much you love him. He kisses your forehead, whispering, “Love you too, my slowpoke.”

Emma Frost aka. The White Queen

- Emma finds your drunken state absolutely fascinating, especially when you become more playful and bold. Normally calm and reserved, you start teasing her about her “icy” demeanor, and she’s amused, a rare smirk on her face as she listens to you try to “crack” her tough exterior. She’s secretly charmed by your confidence.

- When you dramatically declare that she’s “the most beautiful woman in the world,” Emma rolls her eyes with a soft laugh but secretly enjoys every word. She’s used to compliments, but something about hearing them from you, even in your tipsy state, makes her feel genuinely adored. She’ll brush a hand over your cheek, murmuring, “Careful with those compliments, darling—you’re liable to spoil me.”

- As the night progresses, you start showing off for her, attempting overly elaborate gestures and winking clumsily. Emma finds your efforts hilarious but still looks at you with genuine affection. Her fingers brush yours, and she lets herself be a bit softer with you, impressed by your uninhibited side.

- When someone gives you a bit too much attention, Emma is instantly protective. She’ll stand close to you, radiating that commanding aura, and make it clear that you’re taken. She’ll give you a subtle nod, as if to say, “Don’t worry—I’ve got you,” and her calm confidence reassures you instantly.

- You get a little bolder as the night goes on, playfully daring her to dance or try something “un-Emma-like.” Amused and intrigued, she might indulge you, swaying slightly to the music or even placing your hand in hers for a private moment. She’ll laugh, saying, “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight,” though you can tell she’s enjoying herself.

- When it’s time to leave, Emma makes sure you’re steady, her arm around your waist as she guides you to the car. She’ll whisper little reassurances, telling you how much she appreciates this rare, open side of you. Once home, she’ll help you settle in, her voice soft and reassuring, reminding you that she’s there for you completely.

Raven Darkhölme aka. Mystique

- Mystique is both amused and intrigued by your drunken state. Normally guarded, you become surprisingly talkative, telling her all sorts of stories. She listens with a raised eyebrow, smirking at your candidness. “So, this is what I miss when you’re sober?” she’ll tease, clearly enjoying this rare glimpse into your unfiltered thoughts.

- You keep reaching out to touch her, fascinated by her blue skin and how it shifts under your fingers. Mystique finds this endearing, gently teasing you but allowing you to trace her features. She’s rarely this vulnerable, but your innocent curiosity brings out a softer side, and she even leans into your touch.

- When you start rambling about how “amazing” and “mysterious” she is, Mystique just chuckles, a rare, genuine smile crossing her face. Normally, she brushes off praise, but hearing it from you makes her feel appreciated in a way she’s not used to. She might even mutter, “Careful, or I’ll start believing you.”

- As the night goes on, you get into a bit of mischief together, with Mystique indulging your chaotic ideas. She’ll shift into different forms to amuse you, and you giggle every time she surprises you with a new face. Her laughter is warm and genuine, her guard completely down as she shares these fun moments with you.

- If anyone even looks at you the wrong way, Mystique’s protective instincts kick in. She’ll throw a deadly glare their way, making it very clear that you’re off-limits. Her fierce loyalty to you is both comforting and thrilling, and you find yourself feeling safe and cherished in her presence.

- When it’s time to go, she keeps an arm around you, guiding you back with quiet reassurances. She murmurs little words of comfort, her voice softer than usual, and even hums a low melody to keep you calm. Once home, she stays by your side, brushing your hair back and promising, “I’m here, always.”

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- Laura is a bit confused by your drunken antics, as she’s not exactly used to seeing you so uninhibited. She watches with curiosity and maybe a little amusement as you sway around, stumbling slightly. Laura finds herself oddly charmed by this side of you, even if she’s unsure how to respond at first.

- You keep reaching out to hold her hand or touch her arm, and though Laura is usually reserved, she lets you. Your affection surprises her, but she’s not one to pull away, especially with you. When you look up at her with that tipsy grin, she can’t help the tiny smile that breaks through her usual stoic expression.

- When you start playfully teasing her, calling her “your fierce protector” and joking about her serious demeanor, Laura is both amused and a bit flustered. She’s never had someone look at her like you do, with so much warmth and admiration, and your words mean more to her than she’ll let on.

- As the night goes on, Laura gets a bit protective. If you start wandering or leaning too close to others, she’ll gently pull you back, her grip steady but careful. “Stay close,” she’ll murmur, her voice soft but firm, a little blush on her cheeks as she realizes just how much she likes keeping you safe.

- You keep talking about how “amazing” she is, going on and on about her strength, courage, and loyalty. Laura is taken aback, not used to hearing such open admiration, but she listens quietly, her heart swelling with pride. She doesn’t say much, but her hand stays in yours, squeezing gently whenever you look her way.

- By the end of the night, she’s helping you home, a quiet but steady presence by your side. Laura makes sure you’re comfortable, brushing hair from your face as you drift off. Before leaving, she murmurs, “I’ll always keep you safe,” her voice barely a whisper. She stays nearby, her protective instincts on high, ensuring you’re well cared for as you sleep.

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