#Hair strands on the counter (???)

[orchideae]

(We've all seen the first one, but the source for the second one from the official artist is here)

Yelan. Yelan, Madame Yelan, what on earth is this outfit. Granted, please don't get me wrong, I loved and was enthralled when I first caught a glimpse of her (also any glimpse of Yelan thrills me) in it, but geez. And yet, they're so consistent with her design;

— The single-sleeved jacket is a brilliant little nod to her mantle but making it something utterly hers within something that is an AU. No mystical beasts or Tsaritsa here! — The straps near her neck are a very different, but quite nice, summer-like rendition to Hoyo's consistent choice for Yelan of a halter/high neck (even the Pizza Hut ad had her in a turtleneck). A lower neckline is something that they actively seem to avoid for her so far. — The amount of see-through fabric is simply a call-back to her default outfit, but rather than spots of it left and right, it's her full-midriff and leg. It fits, it's nothing new. And if anything, funnily enough, I'd seen numerous artworks pop up of Yelan in swimming attire, and all of the designs felt a little off. I don't actually envision her in a bikini like many draw her, but instead, something like what you see here from her neck, to the midriff to the hips. Much more fitting in my opinion, actually, so I like seeing that concept in an outfit in circumstances where you'd expect a lot of summer influence. — And a detail that makes me laugh: the hand that has the white glove in her canonical outfit is also white here, and same with the black one. Also, the bracelet. God, I love consistency even if it seems trivial. But nothing's ever trivial to me guys, you know this.

All in all, thirst trap, sure, but also, good decisions were made.

[herawell]

.

[sugubear]

thinking about sneaking around with brother's best friend!satoru who can't wait to fuck you once the both of you are alone.

"as much as i love to hear your voice, pretty girl," he breathes harshly in your ear, hips rutting up and plowing his cock deeper and deeper into your already cum-slobbering pussy. "we don't want your brother hearing us now, do we?"

it had started off with satoru, who had ever so kindly invited himself over to your place again, albeit with his usual arrogance and annoying conceitedness—though if you were the satoru gojo, you'd probably act just as cocky as him. his visits consisted of lazily lounging around on the sofa, watching tv with your brother, and most importantly, teasing you when your brother wasn't around.

"satoru, please," you moan beneath his saliva-coated palm, feeling your eyes roll back with each mind numbing thrust, fucking his dick into you to the hilt. "please, toru, 'm gonna come."

your brother had made it clear to satoru that he did not want him getting too touchy with you, much less near you.

if only he knew just how close the both of you are to each other now.

"hah, i know, can feel you squeezing me— f-fuck, so tightly." satoru's tongue rolls out with a whine, wetting his bottom lip which is creased with teeth marks. he forces you further down, moving his hand, adorning the fingers your pussy eagerly memorized the shapes of, away from your mouth to push your head down against the bathroom counter.

a gasp catches in your throat when satoru begins fucking you with more vigor and zeal, all the while, your walls convulse and pull his lengthy, throbbing cock in yearningly.

"cum for me, baby, please. all f'me. need you to cum."

satoru captures your lips in a messy, sloppy kiss, moaning into your mouth as he finally feels you gushing around him, causing him to spurt his sticky load into you with a lewd squelch of his hips. he strokes your tongue with his own, gooily swirling it around before pulling away with a satisfied pant, pushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

"one more round before your brother comes home?"

[lizziesangel]

RAFE CAMERON - can't get enough

x HIGH MAINTENANCE!FEM!reader - MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: he can’t get enough of your kisses (5 times he wants your kiss and the one time you want his)

WORD COUNT: 877

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: kisses, lots of kisses, soft!rafe cameron

the first time

“rafe, don’t even think about it,” you warned, holding up a hand to stop him in his tracks. you were perched at your vanity, delicately putting the final touches on your lip gloss.

rafe, leaning against the doorframe, tilted his head with a grin. “think about what?” he asked, though his eyes were already on your lips.

you gave him a pointed look. “you know what. i just finished, and if you kiss me, you’ll mess it all up.”

he took a slow step forward, then another, ignoring your protests as he stopped just behind your chair. “you look so pretty,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“rafe.”

“just one,” he said softly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips.

you pulled back, huffing as you turned to inspect the damage in the mirror. “it’s sticky now! you never listen.”

he laughed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his chin on your head. “you look perfect, even if your lip gloss is a little smudged.”

the second time

you were deep into your nighttime routine, carefully patting moisturizer onto your face when rafe walked into the bathroom.

“what are you doing?” he asked, leaning against the counter and watching you with a curious look.

“my skincare,” you said simply, dabbing a bit of eye cream under each eye. “you should try it sometime.”

he smirked. “i’ll leave that to you, princess.”

you rolled your eyes, turning back to the mirror. “okay, what do you want? you’re staring.”

“a kiss,” he said immediately, stepping closer.

you turned to him with an exasperated sigh. “rafe, my face is all sticky from product. you’ll hate it.”

“don’t care,” he replied, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

before you could stop him, he kissed you, pulling back with a satisfied smile despite the faint scent of your moisturizer lingering on his lips.

“you’re impossible,” you muttered, shaking your head.

“and you’re adorable,” he shot back, pressing another kiss to your forehead for good measure.

the third time

the sun was setting, and you were chatting with sarah and wheezie near the food table when rafe appeared out of nowhere, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“hey,” he said, sliding an arm around your waist.

you looked up at him, smiling. “hey yourself. having fun?”

“not as much as i could be,” he said, his tone teasing as he leaned down slightly, his eyes flicking to your lips.

you quickly caught on, shaking your head. “not here, rafe! your whole family’s watching.”

he shrugged. “so? they know you’re my girlfriend.”

before you could argue, he leaned in and kissed you softly, pulling away just as quickly.

sarah groaned dramatically. “ugh, get a room, you two.”

you flushed, nudging rafe’s side. “see what you did?”

“worth it,” he said, smirking as he reached for a drink.

the fourth time

you were pacing the living room, phone pressed to your ear as you talked to one of your friends about an upcoming event.

“no, i think we should go with the gold theme—it’s classier,” you said, pausing to listen to their response.

rafe was sprawled on the couch, watching you with an amused expression. when you passed by him for the third time, he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

“babe, stop,” you whispered, waving him off.

he ignored you, pulling you closer until you were standing right in front of him. “just one kiss,” he whispered back, a playful smile on his face.

you glared at him, but he leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before you could stop him.

“sorry, i got distracted,” you said into the phone, shooting him a look.

rafe just grinned, leaning back like he hadn’t done anything wrong.

the fifth time

“careful!” you warned as rafe grabbed your hand, admiring the shiny new polish on your nails. “they’re still wet.”

he raised an eyebrow. “so? i’m not touching them.”

“still, don’t mess with me,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him as he pulled you closer.

he smirked. “mess with you? i’d never.”

before you could argue, he kissed you, holding you close despite your half-hearted attempts to scold him.

“rafe! now i’m all distracted,” you whined, though you couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face.

“good,” he said, grinning. “you’re cuter when you’re distracted.”

bonus

it had been a long day, and rafe was lying on the couch, his head resting on a pillow as he flipped through channels. he looked so relaxed, so content, that you couldn’t help but be drawn to him.

without a word, you climbed onto the couch and settled beside him, resting your head on his chest.

“hey,” he said, his voice soft as he looked down at you.

“hey,” you replied, tilting your head up to look at him.

he raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised when you leaned up and kissed him gently.

when you pulled back, he grinned. “what was that for?”

“just felt like it,” you said with a shrug, though your cheeks were warm.

“you’re cute when you’re sweet,” he teased, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“don’t let it go to your head,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t hide the smile on your face.

[amaranthinespirit]

boyfriend!simon riley when you're mad at him

simon can easily tell when something's off with you.

he'd be clueless as to why you're giving him the cold shoulder, your lips sealed shut with closed off body language, arms crossed over your chest and a sour expression on your face.

although, on some occasions, it's easy for him to recognize what he'd done because let's be honest, simon riley has a habit of pissing off his lovie. just means it gives him a reason to make it up to you.

whether you're frowning, clanking things aggressively in the kitchen, his big hands would wrap around your waist, effortlessly dragging you to sit up on the counter, weaseling his way between your legs before you can shut him out. you can't shut him out, lovie.

a gasp escaping your lips involuntarily. his rough palms pressed your thighs, pushing your legs further apart of his lips traveled down your neck before skipping to your clothed cunt. his tongue pressed flat against the cotton, eyes fluttering shut for a mere second at the faint taste of you before peeling away your panties.

he didn't give you time to react, latching his lips around your sensitive clit, tongue teasing along your puffy folds. a low chuckle rumbling against your sopping pussy when your hands went to his short-cropped hair, tugging at the strands.

"still mad, baby? hmm?" his voice was dangerous; low and raspy, vibrating against your drooling cunt as he lazily lapped up your slick. a slight frown still on your face, and a small nod pulled his lips into a smirk. he knew what you were doing, lovie, you can't fool him.

"oh, are ya?" he'd hum, "can't 'ave tha' now."

or maybe you're on the couch, sulking as you stare at the blank tv screen. he'd press on your shoulder, pushing you to lie flat back on the cushions, keeping a warm, calloused hand pressed to your stomach.

burying his face in your damp cotton panties, crooked nose putting a teasing pressure on your little clit, the friction of the fabric sending a spark through your body.

he could spend hours between your legs, just lapping up the sweet slick that drools from your slit, teasing your pearl that easily becomes more and more sensitive, slipping in his thick fingers to coax your walls for his heavy cock later.

so go on, lovie, keep being mad at him, it just means he gets to make it up by burying his face in your sweet pussy.

[alygator77]

just a little drabble for my current wip. arranged marriage with clanhead gojo.

warnings: mdni, smut, breeding kink, lots of breeding, praise, creampie, bit of angst.

arranged clanhead! satoru who still isn’t used to sharing his space, even after months of marriage. the grand Gojo estate, once his sanctuary, feels smaller with you in it—your scent lingering on the furniture, your soft hums echoing in the halls—not unpleasant, but… unfamiliar.

arranged clanhead! satoru who notices how your shampoo smells so sweet, clinging to his pillow. how your hair clogs his drain and it drives him fucking insane, yet he still finds himself instinctively reaching for your favorite brand of conditioner while he’s out, tucking it into his basket without a second thought. he doesn’t know why—it’s not like he cares… right?

arranged clanhead! satoru who steps into the kitchen late one evening to find you leaning against the counter. your hair falls in loose strands around your face, messy but still maddeningly pretty, and you sip tea from a mug—his favorite mug. you’re draped in one of his shirts, the hem barely brushing mid-thigh—your bare legs illuminated by the dim glow of the overhead light.

for a fleeting second, he freezes. you look… almost at home. he doesn’t want you to look at home. or does he? he shakes the thought away.

“couldn’t sleep?” he drawls, his eyes lingering on the curve of your legs. “or… were you waiting up for me? ‘cause I could really blow off some steam.”

arranged clanhead! satoru who emerges from the bathroom later that night, his snowy hair damp and tousled, a towel slung lazily over his broad shoulders. he’s wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants, the defined lines of his abdomen on full display as he rubs the towel through his hair, his gaze sliding over to you lying on the bed.

“ready for tonight?” he asks, tilting his head with that signature nonchalance, as though he isn’t about to fuck the hell out of you, as though his sole intention isn’t to fill you so full of his cum that there’s no question the Gojo Clan will get their heir.

arranged clanhead! satoru who pushes you into a mating press the moment he’s on top of you, his large hands gripping your thighs as he folds your legs back against your chest, pinning you beneath him. his cock slides against your slick folds before splitting you apart, and his breath shudders as your cunt swallows him greedily.

“fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, panting through thrusts. “always so good f’me. always takin’ me so fucking well.”

arranged clanhead! satoru who hates himself for the shameful thrill that bubbles up within him, the sick satisfaction of watching you come undone beneath him. the way your pussy clenches around his dick, the way your gasps and moans echo in his ears, drives him to thrust harder, deeper, as though his very existence depends on filling you—which it does.

arranged clanhead! satoru who’s pace is merciless, hips slamming into you with an almost feral hunger. he tells himself it’s just biology, but deep down he knows better.

“good fucking girl…” he smirks, pushing your legs higher as you squirm beneath him—your nails digging into his arms, but the sting only spurs him on. “don’t worry sweetheart—haaa—this time, for sure, m'gonna breed that pretty pussy. gonna make you drip with my cum ‘til you can’t hold it all…”

arranged clanhead! satoru who watches your eyes roll back as his cock slams into you, the bed shaking beneath you as his focus narrows on the way your breasts bounce with every forceful thrust.

“you’re mine,” he groans, the words slipping out before he can stop them, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you—hot, thick ropes of cum painting your walls. his body trembles against yours as he buries himself to the hilt.

“fuuuck, take it…” he rasps, his forehead dropping to press against yours. “so fucking good f’me.”

arranged clanhead! satoru who doesn’t move for a long moment, his chest pressed to yours, his weight pinning you to the mattress. your breath mingles, warm and uneven, and for a fleeting second, he almost forgets why he’s here. why you’re here. but then reality creeps in, sharp and cold, and he pulls out slowly, watching as the mix of his cum and your slick drips onto the sheets.

arranged clanhead! satoru who remembers his duty as clanhead, as the leader of the Gojo Clan. like a good husband—like a good leader—he doesn’t waste a single drop. he shifts, his fingers dipping between your legs to scoop up the cum leaking from you.

“can’t let this go to waste, sweetheart,” he mutters as he pushes the thick mess back into you. his thumb presses against your clit, and he smirks when it earns a soft gasp from you—his fingers sliding deeper. he watches, transfixed, as his cum disappears inside you again, his cock giving a weak twitch at the sight.

arranged clanhead! satoru who rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling as his chest heaves with the effort of catching his breath. he doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t hold you, and you don’t reach for him. the silence afterward is louder than any moan you could make. he tries to ignore the ache in his chest, something he refuses to name.

arranged clanhead! satoru who lies awake long after you’ve drifted off, his arm slung over his eyes as he tries to ignore the ache in his chest. he won’t admit it—not to you, not to himself—but he’s starting to crave more than your body. he craves the softness in your voice when you call his name, the quiet way you laugh when you think he’s not listening.

but this is just obligation. just duty. just… fucking. right?

full fic in the works 🫶🏻 lmk if you wanna be tagged.

[xhyjin]

husband toji! who would try his best to spoil you, even when he’s struggling financially. you want a romantic getaway? don’t worry, because he’s already saving up, cutting corners wherever he can, just to see the joy on your face when he surprises you with the trip of your dreams.

husband toji! he isn’t the most romantic man, but he tries his best. when he notices the small smile on your face as you watch a man surprise his partner with flowers hidden behind his back, he makes a mental note. the next time he’s away on a mission that lasts too long, he shows up at your door with a slightly crumpled bouquet in hand, looking a little awkward but secretly proud when he sees your face light up.

husband toji! who loves when you fall asleep on him—not just because he enjoys running his fingers through your hair as you rest on his chest, but also because it’s the perfect opportunity to snap a picture of the two of you. with a smirk on his face in the photo, he sends it to shiu with the caption, “bet you don’t have a cutie laying on you right now.” it always earns him an immediate middle-finger reply from shiu, which only makes his grin wider.

husband toji! who never expected to find himself in this position again—so lovestruck and soft for you that it sometimes scares him. he’s torn between wanting to bare his soul to you and protect you from the weight of his past. he doesn’t know if he should tell you about his late wife and the son he left behind, afraid it might change the way you see him, but also yearning for you to understand the parts of him he’s kept hidden for so long.

husband toji! who knows it’s wrong, knows he should let you be independent, but he can’t help himself. when you think he’s at work, he’s actually following you from a distance, keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re safe. the guilt of shadowing you like a stalker eats at him, but the thought of failing to protect you is even worse. so, he watches quietly, torn between trusting the world and trusting only himself to keep you safe.

husband toji! who finds himself spending money on “useless” and “childish” things like cute plushies or clothes simply because they remind him of you. he’ll grumble about it under his breath, but the moment he sees your delighted smile when he gives them to you, he knows it’s worth every penny.

husband toji! who doesn’t prepare for missions by training or strategizing beforehand, but by taking a long shower using your body wash, your shampoo, your conditioner, and your lotion—anything that smells like you. he sprays your perfume all over his body and clothes, not caring if anyone (shiu) questions why he smells so feminine and sweet. the comforting scent of you clings to him like a shield, grounding him when he’s away and reminding him of the warmth waiting for him at home.

husband toji! who secretly adores when you ask for his help with the little things. need help putting on your necklace for date night? he’s already behind you, gently moving your hair aside, his fingers brushing your skin as he clasps it on, all while staring at you lovingly through the mirror. need help opening a jar? don’t worry—he’s leaning over you in an instant, taking the jar from your delicate hands and twisting it open with ease. before you can thank him, he dips a finger into the jam, tastes it, and smirks, “almost as sweet as you,” he whispers in your ear, walking away just as he catches the sight of your flustered reflection in the marble counter.

husband toji! who sometimes forgets the strength of his own body, so he’s always extra, extra gentle with you. whether it’s holding your hand, pulling you into a hug, or brushing a strand of hair from your face, he moves with deliberate care, afraid of even the slightest chance of hurting you. his touch, though strong, always feels like the softest embrace, as if he’s protecting something he treasures more than anything.

husband toji! who picks up your hobbies just to have more in common with you, even if they’re things he never imagined himself doing—like painting, baking, or knitting. at first, he fumbles awkwardly, grumbling about how “this isn’t his thing,” but before long, he finds himself enjoying it more than he expected. the real joy, though, comes from seeing your excitement as you share these moments together, making him realize he’d try anything if it meant spending more time with you.

husband toji! who, after a gut-wrenching moment during one of his missions, realizes he doesn’t want to do it anymore. he doesn’t want to risk his life when all he wants is to spend it with you. knowing it’ll be hard to convince shiu, he brings you along under the pretense that you’re just meeting his friend. as you take a seat beside him, your face glowing with excitement at finally meeting one of his friends, toji and shiu sit across and beside you, their expressions serious as they speak in coded phrases to keep you blissfully unaware of toji’s real job. toji glances at you, his heart softening at your smile, and silently vows to make his case to shiu—because you’re his reason to walk away from it all.

husband toji! who will gladly hold your purse without hesitation when it keeps slipping off your shoulder, or carry your heels in one hand while giving you his slippers to wear, walking barefoot himself without a second thought. he doesn’t care about the stares or the inconvenience—your comfort is all that matters to him, and he’d do anything to make sure you’re at ease.

husband toji! whose favorite hobby, out of all the ones he picked up from you, is coming home to find you asleep on his side of the bed, wearing his tee and boxers, clutching his pillow to your chest. he gently removes the pillow, replacing it with himself as he slides into bed, pulling you close. with his arms around you, he kisses your forehead and whispers softly in your ear how grateful he is for you and how deeply he loves you, even if you can only hear him in your dreams.

[bruhstories]

sweet like honey ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

summary: logan ended up spending his evenings in the bar across the street from your bakery, watching you do your job. he never approached you, never talked to you, but he always kept an eye on you, until he has a bad feeling. pairing: logan x fem!reader warning & content: swearing, violence, reader almost gets assaulted (but logan saves the day), she/her pronouns for reader, wade being wade, unprotected p in v, fluff, angst, lots of baking and mentions of food, slightly ooc logan (if you squint), slow burn, sex in a bakery wc: 6k

a/n: i don't always write, but when i do, it's a fucking thesis. unedited.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Logan was never a fan of sweets. He hated chocolate, cheesecake, gummy bears — literally anything sweet. The only thing he could barely stomach was tiramisu, and only because it had coffee in it. Other than that, he steered away from sweets like they were the fucking plague.

Yet despite all that, he found himself enjoying the smell of freshly baked croissants, custard donuts, brownies, and whatever goods you baked in your little bakery, conveniently situated across the street from his go-to bar.

Cleverly named Flour Power, it was all pastel both inside and out, with little pots of hyacinths hanging from its window and a big sign above the entrance. Not that Logan ever went there, but he always walked past it when he went for a drink. Flour Power stood out from all the shops with its baby blue windowsills and bubblegum pink door. As much as he disliked vibrant colours, his eyes were always drawn to the bakery. But not because of how it looked or the way it smelled.

No, Logan strategically sat down by the window in the bar to see you. Every evening, he watched you sell everything you had on display, from wedding cakes to éclairs, greetings customers with a warm smile on your face. He watched you turn the sign from open to closed, lock the door, clean the display shelves, the counters, the only two tables and four chairs inside, and sweep and mop the floors. Then you disappeared in the back for a while, perhaps doing the dishes or preparing dough and frosting, before you walked out, locked the door again, pulled down the blinds over the big window on the right side of the door, and left.

It became a ritual for Logan to watch you. In a way, it brought him some peace, despite him never speaking to you. To him, you were innocence personified, the type of girl who made others feel better simply by being there, and he didn't want to disturb that peace.

Tonight was an ordinary night for the 200 year old mutant. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, drank it all, then went to the bar to ask for another round, killing time until you closed the bakery, then he could finally go back to the apartment. You closed at 7 for clients and left at 8:30 every evening except for Sundays, when you didn't work. Logan knew your schedule a little to well, even knew you opened for clients at 8 in the morning, but you were there much earlier, because he could smell the pastries at around half 6. This time, however, you seemed to have a bit more work. It was past 9, it was dark, and you still hadn't left, and Logan was slightly concerned.

He watched you like a hawk, how you tucked rebellious strands of hair behind your ear when you mopped the floor, how you wiped your hands on your cute little apron after you finished scrubbing the countertops. Logan thought you had extra orders from customers, perhaps a wedding cake. He scrunched his nose at the thought of having to try so many flavours only to pick a damn cake that he probably wouldn't enjoy anyway.

But finally, you were done.

It was almost 10 when you locked the door to the bakery, double checking to make sure it wouldn't budge. Then the blinds and off you went. Logan was satisfied to see you go, but the hairs on his back suddenly stood up, his nostrils filled with the scent of danger. Bitter, sour, it went straight to his brain, and so he finished his drink and left the bar, following you down the street but keeping a safe distance.

You walked past a group of drunk men, gripping your tote bag with your left hand and your keys with your right one. You've learned to place the keys between your fingers, like claws, in case someone attacked you. Going home at that time wasn't something you enjoyed, and you always tried to avoid working late, but sometimes that was inevitable. When you heard footsteps approaching you, you picked up the pace, but paranoia kicked in, and you didn't want whoever was following you to find out where you lived, and so you took a detour.

Logan was like your shadow, going everywhere you went, until he heard something drop in a dimly lit alleyway and he sped up, finding you round a corner, pinned to a wall by a man while another guy had his hand up your dress. It was too dark to see, but Logan didn't need eyes to know that was you. He could smell the vanilla extract and icing sugar and fear.

"Take my wallet!" You told the men, but they weren't there for the money. They wanted something else from you.

"Nah, doll, I'll take something else from you. Somethin' more precious than money." One of the men said, his breath reeking of alcohol, the cheap kind.

"Hurry up and fuck her, bro, I need my turn-"

Something flashed, then a shadow lunged at the second guy who couldn't even finish his sentence before he was struck down.

"Mike?" The man who pinned you against the wall asked, his hands trembling on your body. "Stop fucking around."

But Mike was seeing stars somewhere on the alleyway. It happened so quickly you couldn't understand what was going on. When your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you saw him, rough, handsome and very, very angry.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man asked, but all he got in response was a guttural growl. "Hey, man, I don't want any trouble. My girlfriend and I were just talking. Stay out of it." He grabbed you by the neck, dragging you away from Logan.

You seized the opportunity and wrestled out of his grasp by biting your assaulter's hand, dashing behind a bin.

"Ow! Fucking bitch!" He lunged at you, but Logan was quicker, piercing his claws through his shoulder and holding him in place.

"That's no way to talk to a lady." The mutant snarled, and you watched how his claws retracted before he punched the man in the face, effectively knocking him down.

He was the Wolverine. You had seen it all over the news, how he saved your universe, how he came from a different world. You couldn't believe he was the one helping you when you thought no one would save you in that moment.

"You alright, kid?" His raspy voice startled you and you barely nodded, still too shocked to move or speak. "You sure?"

You shook your head and tears rolled down your cheeks as you finally started to process what just happened. Logan scrunched his nose — comforting someone wasn't his strongest skill — and instead he picked up your bag and keys from the pavement.

"Shit, um, don't cry." He handed you your belongings, and you looked up at him with a frown.

How could you not cry when you saw your entire life flashing before your eyes? Logan swallowed a lump in his throat and offered his hand to help you stand up. You looked at his hand, reluctant to grab it. The only thing he could compare you with was a cat — cautious, yet curious.

"No claws." He said when he understood the meaning behind your eyes. "Come, I'll- um, I'll walk you home."

The invitation had you perk up and gain courage, and you quietly took the bag from his hand. He walked with you in complete silence, until you stopped in front of a building. You lingered, unwilling to go in. Logan asked if that was your place, and after you nodded, he offered to take you all the way to your apartment, which made you feel relieved. He could see it on your face when you sighed. You guided him up the stairs, constantly looking behind you to make sure he was there.

You stopped in front of a tall wooden door, keys in hand.

"Go on. I'll wait until you lock the door." Logan encouraged you.

"Can you stay?" You finally spoke, and your voice was sweet like honey, fitting for a baker.

"I don't know, kid-"

"Please." You looked at him with glossy eyes, pupils blown from the fear that hadn't left your body yet. The fear he could still smell.

"Yeah. Okay, I'll stay."

"Thank you."

Logan followed you in, and you flipped the light switch on before locking the door behind him. He looked around and, just as he expected, the apartment was a direct reflection of your bakery — clean, colourful and calm. There were recipes stuck to the walls with pink pins, and between them little paintings of sunsets, skies, flowers, cats. All things cute. They weren't framed, and so Logan figured they were hand-made, his assumptions confirmed by the easel in the corner of your living room.

Of course your sofa had to be colourful, too — mustard yellow with sage green cushions and blankets. Even your curtains were sage green. Despite the explosion of colours, Logan found himself enjoying being there. Not everything had to be brown, black and grey, he thought. Probably the only vibrant thing in his life was his suit, since the only people that brought colour were his friends, and they were gone.

"Drink?" You cracked the walls he put up around his heart with that sweet voice.

You shook a bottle of gin to get his attention and he nodded. Logan wasn't a fan of gin, but he didn't expect you to have any hard liquors. He watched you pull out two blue glasses from the kitchen cabinet, and of course they had to be funky, with white flowers on them.

"Where'd you get these?" He asked, swirling the drink in his hand.

"I made them. Kind of." You said. "Bought them from a charity store and painted the flowers. Do you want some tonic water?"

"Fuck no." Logan choked on his gin when you asked him that question. Simply being in a place so... colourful was enough. He didn't need a girly drink.

"I'm Y/N, by the way."

"I'm-"

"The Wolverine!" You cut him off a little too eager.

"-Logan. Call me Logan." He cringed when the beverage tickled his taste buds. It wasn't bitter enough for him.

"Logan. Thanks for tonight. Is there any way I can repay you?"

The question was riddled with innocence, but he couldn't stop the degenerate thoughts that popped in his mind when you asked him that. You were just so pure that he wanted to both protect you and ruin you.

"Don't mention it. I couldn't just walk past without doing anything." Logan lied, because, really, he wasn't just walking by, was he? No, it was downright stalking.

"I could bake something for you." You offered and he shook his head.

"I don't like sweets, kid."

"What?" You were baffled. "Everybody likes something sweet."

"Not me." He shrugged. "All I like is tiramisu and only if those biscuits are doused in coffee."

"Ladyfingers." You corrected him with a chuckle. "They're called ladyfingers."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious! Here!" You rushed to your pantry and pulled out a whole box of them, showing Logan the name.

"That's just stupid." He shook his head. "Who calls them ladyfingers?"

"Uh, everyone?" You laughed at his surprise, and the thoughts of your bad evening slowly dissipated, like a bad dream.

Logan truly was clueless about baking, but spent hours listening to you talk about types of sugar, extracts and their uses, and the difference between baking soda and baking powder in cooking. You rambled on and on and not once did he get bored. He could listen to you talk for hours with your voice soothing. Logan thought about it, and he genuinely never met someone like you before. The women in his life were all so different, but you took the cake. You were special in ways he couldn't understand. And he was just so drawn to you.

"I'm sorry, I haven't stopped talking once!" You apologised, realising how safe you felt with him there. You would never let a stranger inside your house, let alone talk about baking while having gin. But Logan wasn't a stranger. Not after he saved you.

"'s alright. It's not every day I learn about baking." He chuckled, finishing his drink. "Listen, I should get going."

"Right." You sighed, eyes darting at the floor. "No, of course. I've kept you too long."

Logan got up and you walked with him to the hallway. He was slow to put his leather jacket on, as if he was waiting for you to say something, anything, but when you didn't, he unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hey, Logan?" You tugged at his sleeve, whispering so you wouldn't wake your neighbours. "Are you sure I can't bake you something? Not now, I mean. I really want you to try something besides tiramisu. And that way I can repay you."

"Hell, why not?" He shrugged.

"Great!" You beamed at him like a child on Christmas day. "Stop by my bakery tomorrow at twelve. It's on Granville Street."

"I thought you didn't work on Sundays."

"Oh, how'd you know?" You quirked a brow at him.

Caught red-handed.

"Educated guess."

"Fair enough." His answer satisfied you. "Be there or be square!"

Sleep was for the weak. All night, Logan tossed and turned and abused his poor pillow with with punches. The mere thought of seeing you, no, interacting with you, had him wriggle like a worm on the mattress. It didn't help that Wade instantly noticed something was up.

"Oh, my, did you shower, peanut?"

"Not today, Satan." Logan poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Mmm, and what do I smell?" Wade sniffed the air. "Wait, is that my perfume?"

"Forgot to pack mine when I swapped universes." The Wolverine barked back.

"Hah!" Blind Al chimed in from the living room. "I think tall, dark and handsome here has a date!"

Logan rolled his eyes while Wade pouted, plopping on the sofa next to Al.

"You never called me that."

"That's cause you’re a degenerate." The woman snorted.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it- ow! Stop hitting me with your cane, I know where you hide your nose candy!" Wade fought back.

"Touch it and I'll bust a cap in your ass!" Al scoffed.

"And I'll regenerate."

Logan used the opportunity to slip into the hallway, but his roommate was quicker, and blocked the door.

"You're not going anywhere until we have the talk."

"The talk?" The Wolverine snorted.

"Ah, they grow up so fast." Wade told Al. "Now, son, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"I'll give you three seconds to fuck off."

"Oh, but I need to know everything! Who is he?"

"She." Logan rolled his eyes.

"Oh my god, is this you coming out to us? Al, he's straight! I promise we love you anyway." Wade went for a hug and all Logan could do was accept it. He learned to live with Wade, even though he dislocated his jaw a few times after he moved in.

"Alright, that's enough."

"Nooo, we're just getting started. Name? Age? Occupation? We could do a double date with Vanessa-"

"Absolutely fucking not." Logan pushed Wade off of him.

"Okay, okay. Just make sure you wrap your willy, and if you need any advice, daddy's here." Wade opened the door for his roommate.

"Actually." Logan lingered in the hallway. "What kind of flowers do girls like?"

The blinds to the bakery were closed but you were inside, pastries in the oven and dessert in the fridge. You couldn't help yourself and prepared something savoury as well, in case he didn't like the lemon cake. A knock on the door startled you, and you rushed to check who it was.

Logan stood there, a bouquet of peonies in his hand. You welcomed him in with a smile, but he could tell it was different than the one you flashed your customers. It seemed more genuine. And it felt like a date.

"These are for you." Logan handed you the flowers, taking in the scent of pork pies. "I thought you were gonna bake something sweet." He flared his nostrils.

"I did, I just thought I should have a plan B in case you didn't like my cake." You placed the bouquet in a vase on one of your tables. "How did you know I liked peonies?"

Logan couldn't believe Wade was right about those damn flowers. And there he was, thinking roses would be better. Maybe the Merc with a Mouth wasn't so bad after all.

"I had a hunch." He shrugged. 

"Well, Logan, I love them! Now sit, sit!" You ushered him to his seat. "I hope you're hungry, because there's a lot for you to try."

"A lot? I thought you'll make me a cupcake or somethin', bub."

"A cupcake?? Don't be silly." Just as you said that, the oven made a loud ding sound, and you turned on your heels, heading in the back.

Logan waited patiently, observing every little detail from the front of your bakery, from the spotless display shelves to the neatly organised paper bags, to the fairy lights around the window. It was obvious to him that you had put your mind, body and soul into this bakery, and his expectations were quite high after all the fuss you made. But he decided to be nice not matter how the food tasted. He couldn't bear seeing you upset if he didn't like what you made.

You reappeared with a tray in your hand, and on it two plates, one with a small pork pie, one with a croissant, and a cup of coffee. Hell, even the cutlery was cute, with swirls engraved on the handles of the fork, knife and teaspoon.

"I decided to leave the cake for last." You said, placing the tray in front of him. "This is a simple pork pie, start with that." You urged him. "Careful, it's hot."

The Wolverine struggled with the cutlery, too small for his large hands, and the brief thought of slashing the pie with his claws crossed his mind, but he decided to be civil. You watched him butcher the food, eager to see his reaction, but he was taking his time.

"I'll let it cool off a bit."

"Ooh, that's probably a good idea." You nodded.

"Aren't you having some?" Logan asked.

"Noo, no. I like to bake for others, not for myself."

"So what do you eat, then?" He sipped on the coffee.

"Instant noodles usually. I'm too tired to cook when I get home. I do occasionally have leftovers, but whatever isn't sold I take it to the local shelter." You explained.

Christ, you couldn't be any kinder. Logan was stunned by your beauty and your soul, which was why he decided that after today, he will stop any interaction with you. He couldn't ruin you, not with his lifestyle, not with the danger that followed him everywhere.

The only problem was that the conversation flowed naturally, and he felt safe with you, just as you did with him. Like you were the missing piece to his puzzle. Logan pushed away those thoughts and decided to try the food. He took a large mouthful of the pie, chewed and swallowed, and you waited expectantly.

"Shit."

"What? Is it bad?" You jumped from your seat.

"Fuck, this is the best pork pie I've ever had." Logan wiped his mouth with a tissue you provided. "I'm serious, kid. Did you put drugs in it?"

You laughed, shaking your head as he finished the rest of the pie. He truly seemed to enjoy it, and you felt so satisfied. But the real test came after.

"Pistachio croissant." You said. "I thought about making almond ones, but I figured pistachio wasn't that sweet."

"Right, let's see." Logan took a healthy bite out of the pastry, and lo and behold, he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. If heaven had a taste, it would be that damned croissant.

"Is it good?"

"Good? Jesus, this is the best one yet." He finished the rest of it, the pistachio cream tickling his taste buds in all the right ways. "Who taught you to bake like this?"

"My grandma. She was the best cook I knew." You smiled.

Logan noticed your use of past tense, and he didn't want to bring up any bad memories. He wasn't the nosy type, but something possessed him to ask you about your life, your family, your favourite colours. He needed to know more about you, and you answered all his questions, opening up to him like a flower in bloom. But when it came to him talking about himself, Logan was reluctant.

Talking to Wade was easier, because Wade didn't take anything seriously, nor did he ask personal questions. Well, he did, but in his own stupid way that provided Logan some distraction, as well as a reason to punch him. But with you it was different. He felt like he owed you serious answers that he wasn't yet ready to tell a stranger who made a mean pistachio croissant.

"The cake!" You spun on the chair, changing the subject when you saw Logan dodging your questions like bullets.

Although he didn't say it, he was grateful that you didn't put any pressure on him to talk. He wasn't a talker. That was definitely Wade. You came back with the whole cake, and it looked so good that Logan didn't want you to cut it. Perfectly round, a layer of cream in the middle and white frosting on top. You even went so far as to decorate it with all kinds of yellow flower petals and what seemed to be mint leaves.

"Alright, hit me. What's this one called?"

"I call it the Mojito Cake. The sponge cake has lemon zest, the cream is made of lime, mint and rum syrup, and the frosting is buttercream with a dash of actual rum." You explained.

"Shit, I can't tell if that sounds disgusting or incredible."

"Only one way to find out." You cut him a thick slice, and Logan wasted no time trying it.

"I think you found yourself a new customer."

"You're too nice."

"I'm anything but nice, kid." He took three more spoonfuls. "But I ain't a liar. This is delicious." Logan spoke with his mouth full and it made you chuckle.

"Oh, there's a bit of frosting on your face."

"Hm?" He used the tissue to wipe his chin. "Did I get it?"

"No, it's still- here, I'll get it." You leaned forward and delicately ghosted your thumb over the corner of his mouth, eyes locked with his.

Without thinking about it, you dragged your tongue over the frosting, and Logan couldn't look away from you even if he wanted to. A gesture so innocent, but it destroyed any form of restraint. He pressed his lips onto yours, tasting the rum and the cream, but before you could kiss him back, he pulled away.

"Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

You gave him no time to finish his sentence when you placed your hands on his shoulders and kissed him with fire on your tongue. God, he hated being touched, but when you did it, he melted in your hands. Lust battled reason and prevailed, and you found yourself straddling Logan's lap, arms around his neck and chest pressed against his.

His large hands found their way under your dress, fingers digging in the plush of your thighs until a moan escaped past your lips. Logan could've sworn you were pure in all ways — a virgin — so, naturally, he was surprised to see you eager to jump his adamantium bones.

With the last shred of reason left in you, you glanced at the door and window to make sure they were covered, and pushed Logan's jacket off his shoulders, peppering his neck with soft kisses. He wasn't the gentle type, no matter how hard he tried, and he didn't need to be when he felt your hips grind in his lap. It was more than obvious that you wanted him then and there.

Logan lifted you up as if you weighed nothing and slammed you down the empty table. His roughness sent a chill down your spine, because you really wanted him to manhandle you from the moment he stepped foot in your bakery. He kissed you again, pressing his whole against yours until your back hit the table. You felt like a cornered animal with nowhere to go, and the thrill of it turned you on.

"Are you sure you want this?" Logan asked despite you unbuckling his belt.

"I don't want this, I want you. I need you to fuck me so hard I can't walk." You unzipped his jeans, and although he was taken aback by your sudden use of filthy words, he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing that side of you.

"Greedy little girl." Logan's hand slithered between your legs, fingers rubbing circles over your clothed clit. "Shit, you're soakin' wet. Can feel it through your fuckin' panties already." He flared his nostrils, taking in the scent of your arousal.

With his jeans loose around his waist, you palmed his cock through his boxers, and it didn't shock you for a second that he was rock hard. What did shock you, however, was the size of it. It was probably the biggest you've ever taken, and you didn't want any other man anymore.

You tugged at the waistband of his boxers, making it clear that you didn't want to waste any more time. Not that you didn't want to suck his dick or explore every inch of his body and worship it the way a man like him deserved it, but you were impatient.

Logan got the hint when you whined and scoffed, and he tore the pink panties off of you, tossing them on the floor. At least he had the decency not to put them on the table, which you were going to disinfect anyway. He pushed his boxers down, and you propped yourself on your elbows to look at him, and it was a sight for sore eyes indeed. He had perfectly sculpted abs, you could see them under the half-lifted t-shirt, but it was his cock that made your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" Logan was smug, confident in his good looks.

"I need to permanently imprint this image on my retina." You told him, and he couldn't help the chuckle.

"Likewise. Now spread 'em."

"Yessir!" You very quickly obeyed, parting your legs for him, and Logan couldn't deny that he enjoyed being in control.

He wasn't one to take orders, nor give them, but watching you comply scratched an itch he couldn't get rid of. Logan pressed the tip of his cock against your slick folds, earning another whine from you. You bucked your hips, craving more, and he scoffed.

"That desperate, hm?"

"You have no idea." You dug your manicured fingernails into his shoulders, bracing for temporary pain, because you knew damn well it would hurt.

"I don't know, I didn't hear you say please." Logan frowned, and you understood what game he was playing. A game you yearned to be part of.

"Oh, please, please, please fuck me, Logan! I'll be so good for you! I'll do anything you want." You clung to his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. "I'll even take it in any hole you want." You whispered, dragging your tongue over his lips.

"Shit." Logan was weak in the knees from your words, and the worst part was that he believed everything you said. But there was a time and place for everything.

You were the perfect mix of sweet and spicy, and you begged so nicely that the Wolverine just couldn't say no. You felt the leaking tip of his cock push past your folds and you audibly gasped at the size of it, drawing blood from his skin with your fingernails.

"It won't fit-" You whined with lust in your voice.

"I'll make it fit." Logan promised, painstakingly slowly thrusting into you.

He gave you time to adjust to his girth, constantly checking if you were alright, if you wanted him to carry on or stop, and while you loved that he was so caring, you needed him hurry up and fuck you.

To assure him that you would survive his monstrous cock, you planted a soft kiss on his nose, and there it was again, the change in your personality, from sultry to innocent. It was as though you embodied everything he ever wanted, and his desire to never contact you again went down the drain. How could Logan ever leave someone like you?

"I'm ready." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead onto yours, slowly rolling his hips.

You weren't ready, because it hurt like a bitch when he stretched out your velvety walls. But the pain was soon replaced by pleasure, and Logan picked up the pace when your whimpers turned to moans, and the slight frown on your face disappeared.

"So tight." He hummed, forehead resting against yours.

Were you tight, or was he just so incredibly big? Either way, you were a panting mess already, clinging to him for dear life, and Logan forgot his worries, even if it was just for that one moment. You were too good to be true, with your parted lips and glossy eyes — a beautiful sight for his sore eyes.

"Fuck, I- fuck!" You wrapped your legs around his waist, the table screeching under you. Not a single coherent sentence could come out of your mouth. "Logan, shit, I-"

"What's the matter? Need something?" He cooed, fingers bruising into your hips. "Use your big girl words."

"Need it ha-harder!" You cried out but he slowed down, confusion written all over your face.

"Where are your manners?"

"Please, daddy, please give it to me harder!"

The term of endearment had Logan quirk a brow at you, but he wasn't surprised in the slightest that you had a daddy kink. And he basked in being called that.

"Are you sure you can take it?"

"Yes!" There was no hesitation in your response. "Fuck, yes!"

Logan growled when he felt your pussy clench around his cock, and he delivered, thrusting deeper, harder and faster into you, until the sound of skin on skin echoed in the bakery, and your breathing became heavier.

"Fuuuuck, I can feel it in my gut!" You threw your head back when the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix.

"Filthy. Little. Slut." Each word came with a thrust and a groan, and he filled you up so good, you became addicted to him.

Your toes curled up, and your legs began to twitch when you felt your orgasm build up. Each push and pull made your vision blurry, and Logan's grip on you tightened as his hips stuttered. He was feral, and he was close, you could feel it in your bones.

"Fuck, Logan, do- oh- don't stop!" Words spilled from your mouth incoherently, and after a few more thrusts, pure bliss rushed through your body.

"That's it, let go." Logan buried his face in the crook of your neck, slamming hard into you until all you could do was chant his name like a prayer.

You felt him fill you up, pussy hot and sticky and sore, and he slowly pulled out, eyes darting at the tissues on the table. He grabbed them, gently cleaning you up, and you couldn’t stop the grin on your face. There was just something about a man like him be so gentle. And you were absolutely delighted to have him take care of you.

"You know," Logan said licking his lips, "I'm beginning to think you didn't want me to just taste your pastries."

"True." You told him smugly. "But you liked them."

"I like you more." He blurted out without thinking.

You felt your cheeks burn at his sudden honesty, and after sliding up your underwear and fixing your dress, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I like you too, honey badger."

"Don't ever call me that again." Logan chuckled.

"Not happening. Now, could you pleaaaase help me clean up this place? The last thing I need is a surprise hygiene inspection tomorrow."

He couldn't even imagine what the inspectors would do if they found out you had sex in a bakery, and with a nod, Logan zipped up his jeans and began disinfecting the tables and chairs while you swept the floor.

In less than half an hour you were done, and the shop was squeaky clean. You were satisfied with the end result, and told Logan that you wanted him to have the rest of the cake, pies and croissants. He thought Wade and Al could eat something, and decided to accept your offer.

"Can I come with you? There's quite a few boxes of food." You told him, a sheepish grin on your lips.

"Is that your way of finding out where I live?"

"Maybe. I'll go home if you don't want me with you."

"No, you're good." Logan assured you. "Besides, I'm sure my roommate's gonna devour everything. He'll probably lock you up in our apartment and force you to bake for him."

"I don't know if that's a threat or a promise." You laughed.

"Both. It's both."

You walked with Logan down the street, boxes in your arms, and you were surprised to see him open up to you more. He answered almost every question you had, and you felt him more relaxed. And he was. Logan forgot how much he needed that kind of connection with someone. You were so easy to talk to, you didn't judge him, and most importantly, you listened.

He guided you up the stairs to his apartment and knocked on the door, because he couldn't reach his keys with so many boxes in his arms. You baked for a damn army.

Wade opened the door, and you were taken aback by his appearance, but it didn't scare you. Instead, you introduced yourself as Logan's personal baker, earning a chuckle from him.

"Come on in, Martha Stewart." Wade opened the door enough for you to walk through it with the boxes and not drop them.

"Wade." Logan came back from the kitchen with a croissant. "Eat. Seriously, eat."

You watched Wade wolf down the pastry without hesitation and his eyes lit up. He chewed and swallowed, then moaned, eyes rolling back. The look of disgust on Logan's face was priceless.

"Holy fucking shit, Y/N, what the fuck did you put in this?" Wade grabbed your shoulders, giving them a good shake. "It's so flaky and creamy and buttery, like a bunch of unicorns came in my mouth."

"I'm glad you like it." You giggled. "Try the cake."

"There's cake?!" He ran to the kitchen, leaving you and Logan in the hallway before coming back, a slice of half-eaten cake in his hand. "I am officially impressed. Can you make Rocky Road?"

"Yes."

"Dulce de leche?"

"Yep."

"Baklava?"

"Uh-huh."

"Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte?"

"Yes, Wade!" You rolled your eyes, then turned to Logan. "Sugar rush?"

"Oh, you have no idea. And this is him on a good day."

"Listen, sweet cheeks, if old man fuckface here won’t marry you, I will. Just don’t tell Vanessa." Wade whispered.

"Don’t even think about it, you degenerate limp dick."

"Ugh, fine. And here I was hoping all four of us could be a happy dysfunctional family. Five if you count Al. Six with Colossus. Wait, actually, eight with-"

"Wade, have you tried the pork pies?" You asked, effectively shutting him up.

Yeah, Logan could definitely get used to being around you from now on to sweeten up his life.

[er1nne]

fix this

⸝⸝⸝ ⑅ —໒ྀི ִֶָ rafe’s impulsive actions and failed attempt to fix things with a ignite a heated argument, leaving you feeling unseen and misunderstood.

word count 1.7k

warnings : yelling & arguments so angst but ends on a good note / fluff

AN: the problem is left ambiguous & left to the imagination so you can make up the problem, you guys loved the last one lol :) i have plenty more in the vault so let me know if y'all want them. enjoy!

(please do not copy or plagiarize, this is my original work subject to copyright)

Rafe knows he’s in deep shit. He can tell he’s in deep shit. And he barely knows how he got here...nope he totally know how he got here.

The weight of it presses on his chest like a cinder block, a suffocating reminder of the mess he’s made. It’s the first thing he feels when he hears your footsteps stomping up the stairs on to the porch. The tightness in his stomach churns, and his hands instinctively find the edge of the counter, gripping it hard enough that his knuckles pale.

He rubs his hand over his jaw, rough and restless, staring at the front door like it might swallow him whole. It doesn’t. The door swings open, and there you are—eyes already blazing with fury, every bit of it directed at him.

You slam the door behind you with a force that makes him flinch. The sharp crack of wood echoes in the silence before you speak.

“I can’t believe you, Rafe!” you snap, your voice trembling, sharp enough to cut. “Do you ever think? Like, at all?”

The way you look at him—like he’s the worst kind of idiot—makes him stiffen, though he leans back against the counter, trying to feign some level of calm. It doesn’t work. He hates that look, not just from you but from anybody.

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” he says, shrugging in what he hopes comes off as nonchalant. But his voice falters just slightly, betraying him. He knows it’s the wrong thing to say, even as the words leave his mouth. Way to put a foot in your mouth.

“Oh, my God.” You throw your hands up, your movements jerky, overwhelmed. “You didn’t think it was that big of a deal? Of course, you didn’t. You never think!”

The accusation hangs heavy in the air, sharp and piercing. He runs a hand through his hair, yanking at the strands in frustration. There you go again. Can't you tell he's sorry. Why'd you have to go there of all places. Why’d you have to say it like that? “Alright, just—calm down for a second,” he says, his tone already edging into defensive territory. “You’re making it sound worse than it is.”

“Calm down?” you repeat, and there’s a bitter edge to your voice that makes his stomach twist. “You think I’m overreacting?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” he fires back, the words snapping out of him before he can stop them. His shoulders are tense, his movements jerky as he gestures vaguely between the two of you. “I’m saying I didn’t mean for it to be—whatever this is.”

You scoff, shaking your head as if the audacity of his explanation is too much to comprehend. “Unbelievable. You don’t even get it, do you? You don’t care how this makes me feel. You just do whatever you want, and I’m supposed to just—deal with it?”

“That’s not fair,” he says through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching as he pushes off the counter. “I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

“But you didn’t care enough to stop and think about me, either,” you shoot back, your voice rising with each word. “Do you have any idea how that feels? To know that I don’t even cross your mind when you make these dumb, impulsive decisions?”

The words hit him hard, like a gut punch he didn’t see coming. He exhales sharply, his frustration boiling over. He paces a few steps, his hands restless, like he’s trying to find an outlet for the tension coiling in his chest.

“Look, I—I’m trying, alright?” he says, his voice rough and strained. “I know I screwed up. That’s why I got you this.”

He gestures toward the counter, where an expensive box sits, perfectly wrapped with a crisp bow. It’s something he picked up earlier, certain it would fix everything. Now, standing here under your fiery gaze, it feels like a monument to his failure.

Your eyes flick to the box, then back to him, your expression darkening. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“What?” he says, his voice rising with confusion and a touch of defensiveness. He throws his arms out, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I was trying to—”

“It’s not about the damn gift, Rafe!” you yell, your voice cracking slightly under the weight of your emotions. “This isn’t something you can fix with money. Do you think I’m that shallow? You think you can throw a couple of thousands at me and it'll make my feelings go away?”

Your breath stutters for a moment before continuing, “Do you think I’m like all the other girls you’ve bought? You can’t do that with me. You can’t just throw money at this and expect it to go away. You have to be a person—a human—with me.”

He flinches, the words cutting deeper than he cares to admit. “No, that’s not—I’m just trying to fix it, okay?” His voice rises in desperation now. “I don’t know what else you want from me!”

“I want you to feel something!” you snap, the tremor in your voice betraying the raw hurt beneath your anger. “I want you to stop throwing money at everything and actually care about how I feel. But I guess that’s asking too much.”

The accusation lands like a blow, and he’s left staring at you, at the tears brimming in your eyes. The anger drains from his face, leaving something raw and uncertain in its place.

“I do care,” he says quietly, his voice rough and uneven. “I just—I don’t know how to… do this.” His hands move in an awkward, aimless gesture, like the words he needs are somewhere just out of reach. His voice is low, almost a whisper. It’s the kind of vulnerability he doesn’t like showing—doesn’t know how to. But he can’t bring himself to look away from you as he peers at you with those icy eyes.

You scoff, shaking your head again, but you don’t storm out. He notices this, clings to it like a lifeline, grateful in a way he doesn’t know how to put into words.

“Look,” he says, stepping closer, his movements hesitant, cautious. His hands twitch at his sides like they’re drawn to you, but he doesn’t touch you—not yet. “I’m not good at this, alright? I screw up—a lot. But I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I hate seeing you like this.”

Your shoulders sag, and for a moment, you look just as tired as he feels. “Then stop making me feel like I don’t matter,” you murmur, your voice softer now, but no less weighted. “Stop acting like I’m just… an afterthought.”

“You’re not,” he says quickly, his voice firm and insistent. He steps closer, his hands finally settling on your arms. “You’re not an afterthought, okay? You’re—you’re everything to me. I just don’t know how to show it sometimes.”

For a moment, you don’t respond. You just stand there, his hands warm and solid against your arms, the tension between you palpable. Then, slowly, you look up at him.

“I just need to know you’re willing to change, I need you to try...” you say softly, your voice thick with emotion.

The room feels smaller now, the space between you charged but quieter. His hand moves, almost hesitantly, until it settles lightly on your arm. “I don’t know how to do this,” he repeats, his voice rough and uneven. “But I want to. For you.”

You search his face, your gaze lingering on his eyes like you’re trying to find something—sincerity, maybe. And when you finally nod, your body relaxing slightly in his grip, it feels like the first breath he’s taken in hours.

“You better,” you say, your voice quiet but steady now.

“I will,” he promises. Rafe’s lips twitch upward, his own smile soft and unsure. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. His arms wrap around the entirety of your body, holding you in his warm embrace like he never wants to let go. You feel his heartbeat against yours as the remenants of his anger fade away.

It’s not a perfect fix. Not even close. But as he holds you close, he feels like maybe, just maybe, he’s finally starting to understand.

divider by @crazyfrm!

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.❞

: ̗̀➛ overview: telling various anime characters you want a baby.

: ̗̀➛ tw; afab!reader w/no gendered language. mentions of pregnancy and getting pregnant, first scenario is nsfw (w/ lowk breeding kink) but the rest are sfw. intentional lowercase!

── დ ──

he pauses, glancing over to you. there's a certain change in his expression that you can't decipher. something in the way his feet shuffle and his shoulders tense, in the way his eyes just barely squint and his tongue darts out to lick at his lips.

"you want a.. baby?" he repeats. the last word comes out strained, as if he was choking on the idea. the idea of you staring down at a positive pregnancy test, the idea of you waddling around the house, the idea of you carrying his child.

you nod, eyeing his form in the kitchen. when your eyes meet his, he looks away and back down to the dishes in front of him. "i want your baby," you correct, almost shyly.

he audibly gulps, setting down the dish he was washing with a dull thump of glass against sink. his hands grip at the granite counter and he tilts his head backward. a long exhale escapes him. there's a pause in the air, only for a few seconds. you, sat on the couch, face flushed and wondering if your confession was a mistake, and him standing silent in the kitchen.

"my baby." he repeats. tasting the way the words sit on his tongue. toying with the implications, the ideas floating around in his head. for a brief moment, a vision of you fucked out and actually dripping with his cum flashes before his eyes.

the man shudders visibly and forces himself to take a deep breath. in, then out, and in again.

he turns around and leans against the granite counter, crossing his tense arms over his chest. this time, when you go to meet his eyes, you find his gaze is already boring into yours. there's an air of certainty around him, something that leaves you feeling strangely breathless. hooded eyes never leaving yours, jaw ticking and lips turning upwards, almost smugly.

he brings a shaky hand up to run through his hair. pushing back stray strands and ruffling. you can't tell if the action is out of nerves or if he's just struggling that hard with holding himself back.

"hm. guess i'll have to make you one then."

↳ (jjk) toji fushiguro, geto suguru, gojo satoru, (mha) keigo takami, dabi, aizawa shouta, shigaraki tomura, (kny) sanemi shinazugawa, tengen uzui

── დ ──

you can feel his entire body tense behind you after you blurt the words out. the arms around your waist tightening their hold, the legs entangled with yours going rigid. even the small breaths that fan your neck momentarily pause, and you suddenly feel cold.

"sweetheart?" you whisper out, wondering if you had made some kind of mistake admitting your desire for a baby. that maybe you guys aren't ready for that conversation, yet.

from behind you, he exhales sharply, a small noise escaping his throat. then, the hands on your waist are suddenly gripping into your skin, and he's haphazardly maneuvering you until your face to face with him. no longer spooning, but rather brushing noses and sharing breaths.

"what did you just say?" the words are muttered, whispered like a secret only you two share.

he's staring at you with such a look that every nerve under your skin begins to burn. it's more than affection, more than desire, more than love. like he never wants to look away, like he can stand witness to the expansion of the universe just from looking into your eyes.

you swallow harshly, a hand coming up to play with the back of his hair. something to ground you back to reality. he preens at the touch, and you can feel a shiver rack through him.

"i said i want to have a baby." you hum, soft and sweet.

his eyes fall shut and he leans his forehead against yours. the grip he has on your waist tightens, his other hand beginning to run up and down your back. as if he's struggling to keep his head out of the clouds just as much as you are.

"really? you wanna start a family with me?" he chokes the words out, as if the utter idea of it seems impossible. as if you'd never want him, want the life he's also been daydreaming about.

you cusp at his cheek, thumbing at the soft skin. something warm fills you, every inch of your body, tingling at your fingertips. you think about it all over again- him, a father, running around a fenced in yard, chasing a giggling toddler, the smell of lunch cooking in the background. and you, watching it all from a swing on the porch. how could you not want that?

you smile, "honey, i want to start a life with you."

↳ (jjk) yuta okkotsu, megumi fushiguro, nanami kento, choso kamo, (mha) natsuo todoroki, toshinori yagi, (kny) obanai iguro, tomioka giyuu, rengoku kyujuro

── დ ──

the car tires squeal as he briefly loses control of the wheel, jerking it to the left and just barely missing the concrete lane divider. your grip onto your seatbelt, and the only reason you don't go flying forward is the arm of your lover jutting out in front of you. with a small curse, he straightens out the car and hits the brakes.

the car behind you beeps angrily, though he only waves them off through the window before focusing back on the road. it's silent for a few seconds, the two of you catching you breaths and trying to quiet the loud heartbeat of adrenaline. you begin to think that blurting out your want for a baby while on the road wasn't the brightest idea.

the man sitting beside you finally speaks up a few moments later. his words come out breathless and high pitched. "a baby?! like... a real one?"

you snap your head towards him and, in irritation, begin to slap at his shoulder and arm. "are you kidding!? you almost kill us and that's the first thing you say to me?! i'm being serious! i want a baby!"

he whines, weakly fending off your attacks with his other hand. "oka- okay! stop hitting me, jesus!" he groans, attention diverted between the green light in front of him and your pouting face.

you finally relent after one final slap and huff in annoyance. crossing you arms and slouching against the passenger seat like a toddler who hasn't been given their way.

he eyes you from the drivers seat with a wobbly lip. trying desperately to hold back the laugh brewing inside of him, knowing it'll only serve to annoy you further. he seems to have a special talent at that.

"stop pouting, c'mon now. look at me, love." he coos, taking one of his hands off the wheel and instead using it to caress your cheek. tapping at your nose, twirling at your hair, then gripping your chin and tilting it toward him.

he spares a brief glance toward you, not wanting to take his eyes off of the road for too long. "you really want a baby? i'll give you one, yeah? i'll trash the condoms myself as soon as we get home. how's that sound?"

you roll your eyes, but he can see the amusement cracking through your expression bit by bit. then, finally, you smile. small at first, before it splits wide across your lips. he awes audibly, pinching at your cheeks before you slap his hand away.

yeah, he doesn't think he'd mind a baby with you. not if they got your pretty little smile (and, hopefully, something of his, too).

↳ (jjk) yuji itadori, gojo satoru, ino takuma, (mha) keigo takami, hizashi yamada, mirio togata, (kny) tengen uzui

[pynkfairyheart]

pairings: peircer eren x black reader

warnings: smut 18+, kinda pervy eren

Good girl

“Hello?” Your soft voice rang over the chimes as you entered the tattoo parlor.

The shop was quiet, seemingly empty besides the softening chimes of the door and surprised cursing down the long hall.

“Shit- yeah. Just give me a minute. My apologies” The culprit of the cursing called.

In the meantime, you took a look around the lobby. The reviews didn't do the place justice. The largest wall contained a bright colorful mural, contrasting beautifully with the dark floors and connected black walls.

While admiring the piece of artwork, heavy thudding from the long hallway turned your attention to the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.

You never believed in love at first sight, up until now. You hadn't even known the man's name yet, but you craved him. The reviews warned you the entire staff was attractive but they clearly left out that this man was a god.

His long hair was pulled into a low bun, strands falling in his face, the color contrasting against his pale skin. He was tall, with a full sleeve on one of his muscular arms, and his green eyes had you drowning immediately. He couldn't be Onyankopon, they said he was a brother. Maybe Connie or, Levi-

“Hi, I'm Eren” He introduced himself after swallowing the large knot in his throat.

While in your own trance, you failed to notice how he froze the moment he saw you. The bright light you stood under showcased the sparkles of your pretty brown skin.

Your legs were on display as a result of the simmering heat outside, thick thighs causing them to roll up slightly. The fitted t-shirt you wore allowed the hardened buds of your nipples to peek through, despite the hot weather.

Eren never considered himself a pervert but the way his mind instantly thought about sucking on them till you begged him to fuck you had him thinking otherwise.

“Hi, I'm [☆]. Is this a bad time?” Oh, he could have come on the spot, your voice sounded even better without the numerous walls separating you and god your perfume had him wanting to devour you on the reception desk.

“No, no I just don't know how much I can do for you, the AC is out in all the rooms but mine and I don't even know how long that's gonna last so if you're looking for an hour long tat session you'll have to come back” He crossed his arms, muscles contracting against the white tee.

“Oh no, I'm just hoping to get a few piercings but I can definitely come back another time”

“No, I can do a couple of piercings. What were you thinking?” He grabbed the paperwork from under the counter, praying one of them would be your chest.

“Uh well, I want the other side of my nose, belly button, venus dimples, and my nipples but I understand if you can't do all of that or the last one I'll just come back”

“No, no I can do it,” He said too quickly, clearing his throat awkwardly before handing you the paperwork.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

“Good girl. You're doing such a good job for me, pretty. Just hold on for one second, lovey”

He was currently doing your last dimple piercing. The pain was unimaginable at first but as soon as the praises left his mouth all was forgotten besides the growing stickiness that rested between your thighs.

He praised you after every piercing a variation of “Good girl” “You're doing such a good job for me” “That's it, baby. You did so good” flowed from his pink lips. You could never decide which throbbing to focus on, the one from your new piercing or the throbbing of your clit.

With three new holes in your body and damp panties, it was now time for the piercing both of you were dreading yet excited for.

“Do I just take my shirt off here?”

“Wherever you're comfortable, baby. You can go in the bathroom or stay in here and I'll give you some privacy” He felt like a teenage boy again. His dick twitching at the thought of seeing you exposed.

“No, it's okay you can stay in here I don't mind”

“Oh. Okay,” He perked up. Giving you some privacy he turned his back, pretending to be busy when in reality he was trying to think of anything but you getting undressed behind him. Despite his concentration, all he could focus on was the sound of your necklaces and bracelets clanking at the movements you made.

He knew your nipples were still hard, especially since he took advantage of the working AC and he wondered what your moans would sound like if he flicked his tounge repeatedly over the bud, or if he pinched them in front of the mirror while you begged him to fuck you as you pressed your ass against his hard-

“I'm ready” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts.

If his self control was any less he'd have gotten on his knees to worship you. There you were. Looking everywhere but him, tits exposed. If it weren’t for the fact other men besides him would see, he'd tattoo this image of you on his bare forearm.

“Are you ready?” He suppressed a groan.

“Mhm”

“Okay stand up for me” He led you to the mirror where he prepped each bud. During the process, you felt as if you could crawl into yourself. The most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on had his hands on your breast. Despite the occasion being nonsexual, you were convinced your arousal would start running down your thigh at any second.

“Is this okay?” He stood behind you.

You gave a simple hum of approval, thoughts gone as he explained how the process would go. You convinced yourself you could handle it, that it would all be over soon.

That was until he rolled the bud in between his fingers, the whimper you'd been holding escaping you.

‘fuck’ ‘fuck’

“Shit, I'm so sorry I- I didn't mean to do that, please understand I had no malicious intentions I just” He stumbled over his words.

He was just explaining the step by step process of the piercing. He wasn't thinking, just craving. He wouldn't have realized his actions if it weren't for the sound you let out. The sound he knew he'd replay in his head the moment you left the shop, stroking his cock as he imagined it were you down on your knees in front of him.

“It's okay” You reassured him. Your big eyes staring up into his through the mirror.

“I didn't…I don't mind”

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Before you knew it you were bouncing on his cock. His moans muffled as his mouth engulfed your breast. Tongue slightly grazing your nipple with the flickers of his tongue before sucking harshly.

He was stretching you out so good, leaky red tip repeatedly hitting your cervix as his frenum piercing brushed against your walls. The added pleasure contributing to the pace of your bounces as you chased your high.

“E-eren please” You whined, attempting to push his head away from the assault on your breast. His hair was everywhere, the ponytail holder long gone the moment your hands entangled in his hair. Your buds were so sensitive, every suck and swipe of his tongue had you squeezing around him, every clench releasing your cream that pooled at the base of his cock.

“Fuck” He groaned, reluctantly giving your boobs a break. His hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, groping the brown skin before placing a hard slap on your cheek.

“Talk to me, pretty. You like this? Like bouncing on daddy's cock hmm?” His arms wrapped around you tightly as he fucked up into you.

“Oh my- fuck” You gave him control. Your head resting on his shoulder as you let out pornographic moans into his ear.

“Answer me, mama” Another slap landed on your ass.

Before you had time to register the mix of pain and pleasure on your flesh, the gentle pressure of his finger rubbing circles on your puckering hole had you seeing stars.

“Fuck y-yes. I love it so much, daddy. Please don't stop” You whined. Tears of pleasure wetting the crook of his neck.

By no means was Eren a fast finisher but boy was he trying his best to hold on, you're pussy was just squeezing him so tight, the added tension on his scalp as you tugged on it every time he hit the spongy spot along your walls had his nails digging crescents into your skin.

“I'm so close, daddy, please”

“Let go mama” He pressed hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

In that moment you came, your pussy tightening around the large girth of his cock. Clear liquid squirting from you in streams as he continued his thrust. Your arousal splashing and dripping onto the chair.

With sweat dripping down his forehead, and stray hairs sticking to him, his thrust became sloppy and his breathing became heavier.

“S-shit” He whimpered, head thrown back as he came harder than ever. Repeatedly pushing his load back into your pussy.

“Lemme take you on a date. Please” He panted once you both came down, his hands roaming your body as he looked down at you, green irises peeking out behind his blown pupils.

“Okay, yea- oh” A broken moan escaped you as he moved your hips up and down his length once again.

“Eren” You whined

“Don't tell me you're wiped out after one round, pretty girl. I know you have more in you, mama. Be a good girl for daddy”

for my eren girlies. this is probably the fastest I've ever wrote bc i just needed peircer eren. oh also how do yall feel about pegging bc i feel peircer eren can be a bit subby sometimes ttm. mwah <3

pt.2 wit the pegging ໒꒰ྀི˶˃ᆺ˂˶꒱ྀི১

[gigilovespink]

Satoru was heartbroken. No, he was shattered. Ruined. Obliterated.

His heart bled painfully as it broke down in pieces, watching the scene unfolding in front of him incredulously.

“Stop pouting” you say, sipping from a glass of orange juice.

“Pouting!? I am not pouting, I am suffering, babe, and you only seem to be enjoying my pain!”

You snort a laugh, patting his forearm reassuringly as you dab your daughter’s face clean with the other hand. Your one year old toddler was sat on Suguru’s lap, squealing in delight and covering her face almost giddily with her chubby little hands every time he shot her a gentle smile. She looked positively infatuated.

“And you laugh!” Satoru adds, stirring his overly sweet beverage brusquely as he glares at his best friend.

“You are being overly dramatic, Satoru” Suguru adds, chuckling as he twirls a strand of white hair that falls out of one of her pigtails. “She just enjoys attention.”

“Attention she should be seeking from me” Satoru counters indignantly. “I am her father, the only man she should be in love with is me.”

“Oh my God…” you sigh, shaking your head. “Sometimes I forget I have two toddlers.”

“At least this one behaves like the princess she is” Suguru chuckles, tickling your baby’s side and making her laugh happily, to Satoru’s dismay.

“Don’t side up with him” the white haired man sulks miserably, “it’s enough torture having one of my girls stolen from me in my face. First my daughter and now my wife? Seriously Suguru?”

The eye roll you and said man give him is almost choreographed. “Did you invite me for lunch just to accuse me of being a home wrecker?”

Satoru crosses his arms. “I never said you were, you are admitting it yourself.”

Suguru snorts, you sigh, and Satoru seems to be in an awfully petty mood.

“Dadaaa…”

Short arms reach for your husband, little hands curling around air in an attempt to cut the distance between both of them.

Satoru’s long arms pull her up easily, retrieving her swiftly from the other man’s lap and balancing her on one of his legs. The megawatt smile on his face could fool anyone into believing he had never been annoyed in the first place.

Big blue eyes mirror his as she stares up at him, laughing and squirming in his arms as he peppers her face with kisses. “Yes, Dada is the only man you are allowed to love, baby girl. Don’t give those eyes to uncle Suguru.”

Suguru shakes his head, an amused and warm smile on his face as he looks at them, “you do know she is going to meet boys her age sooner than later, right? And go on dates and things like that.”

Satoru keeps smiling down adoringly at his daughter, her little fingers wrapped around his as he bounces her on his leg.

“I’ll hollow-purple the hell out of them.”

——————

Suguru never left in this little drabble, let me live that fantasy 💔

[flwrstqr]

✧ BAD IDEA : WHEN THEY'RE YOUR HOT NERD BOYFRIEND ╰—— 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗈𝗒, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅, 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖻𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌?

𝑜𝑓 · 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝓉𝖨𝖬𝖤 ⦂ loser bf!enhypen x f!r 1OOOwc. ── est relationship, skinship, petnames, enha being such losers TT ｡｡ ⠀fluff ✦ 𝓒ATALOGUE ♡ ◞

 DANi : i know i did loser bf enhypen hyung line before.. but i guess this is a remake of it ㅠㅠ

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 heeseung’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, headset slightly askew, eyes glued to his monitor as he furiously clicks his mouse. “babe, just one more round—promise,” he mumbles, though you know it’s a lie. his hair’s a mess, the strands you’d combed earlier now falling into his eyes, and he’s wearing that stupid hoodie he refuses to retire. he flinches when you plop into his lap, arms draped lazily around his shoulders. “i’m playing!” he protests, cheeks flushing as you press a kiss to his jawline. “you’re losing,” you tease, watching his avatar get obliterated on-screen. he groans, leaning back against you, headset falling off entirely. “this is sabotage, yn.” you grin, peppering his face with kisses until he’s a flustered mess, stammering something about focus. “i’ll stop... if you win,” you add, knowing full well he doesn’t stand a chance. he’s so helplessly cute, your hot loser boyfriend.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 jay leans against the kitchen counter, half-eating an apple and half-staring at you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive, and it’s so stupidly obvious he’s down bad. “you look tired,” he mumbles, eyes flickering to the dark circles under your eyes, but his ears turn pink when you catch him staring. “come here, idiot,” you say, tugging his hoodie sleeve to pull him closer. he obeys instantly, like the certified no-rizz loser boyfriend he is, dropping the apple to wrap his arms around your waist in an awkward position. you rest your forehead against his chest, his warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. “you smell like apples,” you mumble. “is that bad?” he asks softly, voice almost shy. “no,” you say, tilting your chin up, “but i like this better.” and then you kiss him, while his hands tighten on your waist like he can’t believe you’re real.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 jake is sprawled across your couch, one sock half-off, looking entirely too attractive for someone who just tripped over your laundry basket five minutes ago. “hey, my sugar plum boo,” he says out of nowhere, grinning like he’s invented a new way to embarrass himself. you blink at him, halfway between horrified and amused. “your what?” he flinches, already regretting it but trying to play it cool. “sugar plum boo? thought I’d try something new.” you stare for a moment before bursting into laughter, and he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “okay, yeah, terrible idea. forget I said that.” but you’re already climbing into his lap, cupping his face, his ears burning red as you kiss the corner of his mouth. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” you tease. “just stick to ‘baby’ okay?” he nods, pulling you closer, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “noted, baby.”

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 sunghoon stands in your doorway, holding up a pair of matching t-shirts with the goofiest grin, like he just solved world peace. “ta-da! couple goals, right?” he says, clearly proud of himself. the shirts say something ridiculous like “she’s my waffle” and “he’s my syrup” and you just stand there, blinking. “hoon,” you start, already fighting a smile, “are you serious?” he fidgets, running a hand through his ridiculously perfect hair, and somehow he’s both a greek god and a total loser at the same time. “what? i thought it’d be cute…” he mumbles, looking down. you sigh, walking up to him, and his shoulders relax the second you slip your arms around his waist. “you’re unbelievable,” you murmur, tilting up to kiss him. his hands find your back, warm and steady. “so… no keychains, then?” he asks, trying not to smile, and you can’t help but laugh against his lips.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 sunoo’s hand is warm in yours as you walk through the mall, his lips pursed in concentration as he scans the signs. “baby, wait—wait, they have the new plushies!” he gasps, dragging you toward the toy store. people are staring again, because of course they are—he’s ridiculously pretty, and his blonde hair catches the light. you can’t help but smile at how oblivious he is to the attention, too busy squishing a stuffed bear against his cheek. “doesn’t this look like you?” he grins, holding it up, and you laugh, tugging him closer by the collar of his oversized sweater. “you’re cuter,” you murmur, and his ears turn red. “stop that,” he whines, but he leans in anyway when you kiss him softly, his hand shyly cupping your jaw. “you’re unfair,” he mumbles, pouting, but he doesn’t pull away.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 it’s 2 a.m., and jungwon’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, reading glasses perched on his nose, hair slightly messy from running his hands through it every time he gets excited. “did you know cats have a special purr that’s called a ‘solicitation purr’? it’s how they get humans to do what they want—it’s genius,” he’s been at this for over an hour, flipping through articles on his phone and gesturing dramatically. you’re curled up beside him, head resting on his shoulder, watching his lips move more than you’re actually listening, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “look, their whiskers even tell them how wide a space is—how cool is that?” he says, eyes sparkling. you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, cutting him off mid-sentence. “you’re cooler and cuter,” you whisper, and his face goes red as he mumbled, “stop—you’re distracting me,” but he doesn’t move away.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 riki sits across from you at the diner, wearing that ridiculous shirt that says “I paused my game to be here” like it’s peak humor, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the side of his hand. his hair’s all messy, and he keeps fidgeting with his fries, stacking them like tiny Jenga pieces. “stop staring,” he mumbles, his ears turning red, but he doesn’t look up, knowing full well you’re doing it to fluster him. “why would i stop looking at my baby?” you tease, leaning over the table just enough to poke his cheek. he freezes, then scowls (a weak attempt, really). “you’re insufferable.” but when you press a quick kiss to his jaw, he melts instantly, leaning into it like the softie he is. “i hate you,” he mutters again, but his hand finds yours under the table, lacing your fingers together, and it’s all too obvious he’s lying.

[yuuchama]

"Fascinating."

You tried to ignore Malleus Draconia and his commentary, despite him towering behind you. On occasion he would lean forward, in such close proximity that strands of his hair fell forward and tickled your neck.

"What purpose does this tool serve? Why do you simply not use magic?" he inquired.

"There is no magic in my world," you reminded him. "I guess people in the past used regular fire, but nowadays this is way easier. And safer."

Malleus took a step back as you moved to retrieve a plate. He kept his focus on the strange machine atop your counter. It ticked with each passing second. His curious green eyes were reflected in its shiny metal shell. He put his hands behind his back and watched like an old man observing street construction.

With a loud ding, two slices of bread jumped out from the device. You put them on the plate and hurried to spread butter before they cooled off. Malleus smiled with glee.

"Heh. How amusing. You never cease to amaze me with new things."

You offered him the first buttered slice, which he eagerly accepted. You'd never seen a man so enraptured by a toaster before. He dug his fangs into the golden-brown bread with a satisfying crunch.

"Only takes a couple of minutes," you boasted. "Anyone can use it, no magic required, and it cooks all sorts of stuff. Bread, frozen waffles... frozen pancakes..."

You realized maybe the toaster was not as versatile as you thought, but cooking bread and frozen breakfast goods was still plenty impressive.

Malleus polished off his snack by licking the crumbs around his mouth. "Delicious. Do you have anything more we can use? I would like to try operating this... toaster."

[gravegoer]

How do you think sevika would react if her partner said the safe word? I NEED TO KNOW PLEASE

And i really love your work, thank you so much!!

Safeword 𓂃۶ৎ

thank you for the ask! and the complement, i dont know what your guys' safe word would be, knowing sevika it would just be safeword, nothing sexy, also funfact i usually write my captions before my fics so idrk if this is gonna hcs or a fic so a mystery for us both ig

masterlist , like 800 words idk i kinda hate this

Sevika had a rough day, and it was obvious through the way she manhandled you that night, teeth marks strewn about your body, as well as light bruises.

You were starting to get more tired by the minute, hands barely grasping her back whilst she towered over her.

The sticky sweat on your body and the heat of the room started to get overwhelming, and you felt as if you might suffocate in the heavy air.

Her thick fingers were sloppily fucking your entrance, making you groan in overstimulation.

You lightly tapped her back, murmuring your shared safeword, before throwing your head back out of exhaustion.

Sevika would hesitate a bit before realizing what you said and coming to a stop. She feels a bit bad for her roughness and reaches to wipe a tear from the corner of your eye. (with not the coochie juice fingers)

Her lips that framed previously gritted teeth were now pressed together in a small pout.

She pulls you into her lap, your head now lulling onto her shoulder she runs a rough hand up your back and through your hair.

Her thick fingers untangle some of the knots she caused.

"Sorry. Are you okay?"

You hum in response, causing Sevika to furrow her brows, pulling your face from her shoulder. She plants a kiss, much gentler than before, to your eyelid.

This is the gentlest you've seen her all week (mostly because you haven't seen her much). Your interactions mostly consisted of a small peck or her ranting angerly about Silco.

Scooping you up, she carries you on her hip to the bathroom, running a wash cloth under warm water to rub down your skin.

Planting kisses down your neck, she mutters apologies into the bruises she left.

If you shiver from the coldness of the counter, she's immediately pulling you back into her, cradling you while she wipes your face with a damp hand.

She's taking her tie out of her hair to secure yours, pulling the uncomfortable stray strands from your face.

Although she does take a moment to admire your state, hair messy and lips swollen, looking up at her through lidded eyes.

Offering you a guilty smile, she carries you back to the bedroom, gently laying you atop the sheets.

Sevika tilts your chin up to pour cool water in your mouth, contrasting the hot kiss that comes after it.

She lets you lay atop her chest, offering her warmth as another apology.

And its definitely her turn to make breakfast in the morning.

very short, whoops writers block threw multiple bricks at me and broke all my fingers so i cant write properly

taglist: @thequeenreaders @hangezoes-wife @thesecondhandwoman @slut4sevika @archangeldyke-all @kylorey25 @sylencr @jinxjinxjinx12 @morphids @aizawasbaeee @ariya13 @tiyawnyana

[softbabybelle]

corruption 001. 𓍯𓂃 rֶָ֢ cameron

rafe cameron x shy!reader

𝜗𝜚 Summary : rafe finds sarah's best friend sitting in her room after she sneaks out to see her boyfriend, topper, and offers to keep her busy while teaching her something new.

𝜗𝜚 words : 2.5k

𝜗𝜚 c!w : weed, smoking, drvgs, suggestive.

part 2. part 3.

by the time sarah had re-entered her own bedroom, you were laying on your back across her bed, twisting your hair above your face, absentmindedly playing with the strands.

"i have a favour to ask." upon hearing your best friend's voice, you turned so you were laying on your stomach.

you liked having sleepover's with sarah but sometimes, she wasn't all that reliable. "m'kay." though you already had an idea what following words would pass her lips.

"i just got off the phone with topper and he wants me to go meet him." she settled herself against her drawers. "but my dad'll kill me if i stay out past curfew. think you could cover for me?"

you batted your lids at the girl, frowning for various reasons. you'd brought all your stuff so you and sarah could hang out, you were getting a little tired of her using you as an excuse to see her boyfriend and you were downright petrified of ward cameron. there was something awfully frightening about your friends' parents.

but you didn't like to be troublesome. so a small "okay." passed your lips with a thin smile.

it took sarah less than twenty minutes to get ready and before you knew it, you were waving goodbye as she snuck out the window.

she left the tv on so you could watch one of your shows but you were much more inclined to reading the book in your bag. at this point, you'd grown accustomed to sarah leaving you during the middle of your sleepover's, you had to come prepared.

the reason she invited you over and snuck out was because she knew ward wouldn't dare go near her room when she had a friend over. none of her family did.

well, none aside from one.

"sarah!" you heard a familiar voice from behind the door followed by a bang against it that rafe cameron would later excuse as a 'knock'. "listen, i know you took my fuckin' charger, so give it ba―oh."

rafe was sarah's older brother, you'd seen him around plenty of times and he'd surely seen you. at this point, you practically lived in the house. many times you'd sat across from him at the dinner table or sat on the beach chairs with sarah while he was in the pool. though you didn't often speak to him.

perhaps that was your fault more than it was his, though.

"you're here." he stated, glancing around the room for the white charger he was missing.

rafe often initiated conversation with you but it was only in your shy nature to nod after he said something and use less than two words to communicate before scurrying down the hall after sarah.

this time, she wasn't here to be your human shield.

"uhm, yeah." you sort of just squirmed, hoping he didn't ask about why you were in here alone.

but you didn't often get what you hoped for. "where's sarah?" snatching up the charger. upon his question, you blinked at him, a stretch of panic flashed across your face. you didn't even need to say anything, your look gave it all away. "snuck out with topper, huh?"

your top lip snuck your bottom teeth in. "please don't tell." you weren't used to being so confined with rafe. sure, you'd been in a hallway with him before but come to think of it, you weren't sure you'd ever been in a small room like sarah's, alone, with the door shut.

"wasn't going to." he counters. his eyes pass over the room, raking down to you. you were sitting on the bed with a little book in your hands, pink bookmark sticking out from the page you left it on. "you don't need to be sittin' pretty in here all alone, though." he approached the door before turning to face you. "you comin'?"

it was as if he'd expected you to follow. you hastily stood, pink blush across your cheeks. "where are we going?"

he shrugged. "my room." as if it'd been obvious.

a nervous pit swirled in your stomach. you hadn't spent enough alone time with rafe to be invited into his bedroom. sarah was the one out of the two of you who talked to many guys. you kind of just stood idly by, a nervous look on your face as you bit your bottom lip and angled your head to look at the ground. you supposed rafe wasn't so bad, though.

after all, you practically grew up with the boy.

but that didn't make it any easier.

"so, uh, how's school?" he sniffed, inviting you into the room before shutting the door closed.

you'd been around sarah and her friends long enough to know that the smell swirling the room was weed. something you'd never so much as touched. the room also had a smell of some expensive cologne, the same one you often detected from rafe.

"it's okay." you offered, standing idly near his dresser, hands messing with the hem of your shirt. "what about you?"

a soft sort of smirk fell across his face. "i'm not in school anymore." he reminded you before taking a seat on the bed, taking something out from the beside table's drawer.

"i knew that, sorry." you felt your face flush. you hated this, always making yourself look silly when you spoke to rafe. it was why you avoided him in the first place. you wanted nothing more than to run out of the room to where you came from. but sarah was gone, meaning you had nobody to use as an excuse or a getaway.

you'd merely have to endure.

he didn't say anything, only offering a humorous huff from his lips.

"you mind?" your eyes trailed down to what was in his hands, the source of the smell you'd detected earlier. "asked you a question, sweetheart."

"oh, uhm." your eyes snapped up to meet his, head feeling floaty at the name. "i don't mind if you smoke. it's you're room."

again, he offered no response but continued to take out his pieces. he was currently in search of a lighter. "what are you standin' all the way over there for? sit down. i don't bite." but there was a quirk to his lips when he said it that made you think he did bite.

"sorry." you mumbled before shuffling to the bed to sit on the furthest edge you could.

you didn't miss the way rafe rolled his eyes. he looked back at you, studying your features. "split one with me?" he was testing the waters. he knew you enough to gauge assumptions about you. asking him? you didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't have sex. you were the type of girl who stayed in your friends bedroom reading a book while they snuck out to meet their boyfriend.

he wanted to see if you'd give in.

your eyes were watching his hands, the way he rolled paper between his fingers. "uhm, 've never smoked."

ding ding ding.

he cocked his head. "want to try?" he could see immediate panic flash across your features. in a way, it was exactly what he wanted. he wanted to soothe you into this, not for you to instantly kneel at his every command. he knew you weren't easy. "c'mon, baby, 's just me. promise i won't let anything happen to you."

"i don't know." you shook your head slightly.

you were no stranger to the names he used on you. he often spoke them in a soft yet playful voice, especially around sarah. you just thought he liked seeing his sister get angry, tossing a pillow his way and telling him to stop treating you like one of his 'notches on his belt' but if he was only keen on making sarah angry, then why was he calling you such things while you were alone, sarah nowhere in sight?

"how long have you known me?" since you were very, very young. "one can't hurt. you trust me?" you slowly nodded, eyes still wavering to his hands. "so what'do you say?"

you knew you shouldn't. if your parents ever found out, they'd kill you with their bare hands and rafe would be next in their death note journal.

but there was something about the way he was looking at you that had your stomach folding in two.

besides, you never did like upsetting people.

if you didn't say yes, rafe would think that you didn't like him. he would be upset that you'd be so mean to refuse such a kind offer.

so nonetheless, a small squeak of an "okay." left your lips.

"atta girl. c'mere." he gestured down and you blinked at him confusedly. was he asking you to sit in his lap? you swallowed thickly. "c'mere." he repeated, this time between a soft chuckle. he reached out for you, helping you to sit flush against his lap.

instantly, you swore you had never been so red in your life.

your eyes were all wide and embarrassed, cheeks flaming red hot while you tucked your bottom lip under your top one again. a habit you supposed you'd die with. to say you were shocked to feel his hand against your face was an understatement. his thumb pulled at your lip from between your teeth, securing it away from harm. "don't do that." he mumbled. "you know how to take a pull?"

awkward and embarrassed were two words you swore were forgetting their meaning. this was above and beyond that. "you just... suck, right?" you squirmed in his lap at your own words.

"inhale, sweetheart." he moved the rolled blunt up to your lips. "open." you complied and he stuck it between the two, lifting the lighter to set the top to a low burn. "don't try to keep it in, 'kay?"

you nodded, inhaling the blunt and finding a strange sensation fill your mouth.

you'd never smoked a cigarette before, much less a blunt.

it was a weird feeling but you did what he said, you didn't try to keep it in. you moved the blunt from your lips with your fingers and didn't feel the need to couch heavily. you just blew the smokey air back out.

"good girl." the soft pads of his fingers trailed softly against your bare thighs below your sleep shorts. you felt your stomach do flips at the praise. "did so well. you sure you haven't done this before?"

you nodded with a slight giggle. "'m sure."

you watched as he lifted the blunt to his lips, taking a drag, then another. he didn't seem as phased as he did. "mm, don' know if i believe you on that one, princess."

"i haven't!" your hips gently reached up against his own. "swear." before simmering back down.

he lifted the blunt to your lips. this time, he didn't need to tell you to part your mouth, you just did it. "cross your heart 'n hope to die?"

he was staring at you so intently that you swore you'd never seen anyone's eyes so vividly, never been more interested in the squiggles of blue in someone's iris or the way his pupils slowly began expanding.

all you could offer was a slow nod as he watched you take another inhale of the blunt, eyes suddenly now steady on your lips, watching you stain the end of the paper pink with lipgloss.

a smirk fell on his lips as he leaned back onto the headboard. one minute, you were too shy to leave sarah's room, now you were sitting on his lap, smoking a blunt with him.

rafe merely had a way with women.

"so what, you feel like 'm corrupting you yet?" his steady smirk and sly hand trailing up your thigh.

a giggle passed your lips as you shook your head. "no."

he hummed. "plenty of time for that." you weren't too sure what he'd meant, though you hadn't actually asked him either.

it didn't take long for you to get high. rafe realised this within less than a few minutes. your pupils had turned wide, eyes gone glassy and suddenly you couldn't stop licking your already wet lips. you were staring at him, a little too much, not that he was complaining. he'd spent too long waiting for you to shyly meet his eye. with the weed in your system, you couldn't seem to look away.

"can i ask you something?" his voice was low, hardly a whisper as he spoke now, as if afraid he'd awake something and the room would turn to dust, the moment would fade from his memory and this moment would dissappear.

"uh-huh." you were busy looking at him, downright gawking. your eyes were shamelessly staring right at his lips.

he wasn't as buzzed as you. but to be honest, he'd been doing this a long time before you. "have you ever been kissed?"

it was his turn for his eyes to advert to your lips. all glossy and wet. for the thousandth time, your tongue peaked out, wetting them again before biting your bottom lip.

he couldn't get you to stop biting it, no matter how hard he tried.

he'd merely have to train you, when the time came.

"mm-mm." you shook your head at him. finally, your eyes broke from his lips and looked up at his eyes. he could see now, how truly buzzed you were. your eyes were all red and glassy, it was almost as if he could feel you floating. you tilted your head at him. "are you gonna kiss me?"

his hands ran up and down against your skin. "do you want me to?" a hesitant nod followed his question. "say please." pulling the blunt up to his lips for another drag. it was almost out now.

it was a mindless tease but he felt you squirm in his lap again. "please, rafe." voice but a whiney murmur.

he blew the smoke out from his lips and watched it fall into your own parted mouth.

your eyes fluttered shut and he didn't give you a chance to think, his lips replacing the smoke. his were hungry, your's were soft, inviting. and he took the invite as soon as it'd been handed to him. his hand ran up your back, shoving your body as close to his own as he could. he wanted the heat to envelope him, wanted your skin against his own. wanted so badly to rip off every piece of clothing that tainted you. wanted you to be his for the taking.

but the way you suddenly pulled back, those doey, bloodshot eyes and fearful voice murmuring the words, "you're not gonna tell sarah, are you?" told rafe exactly what he already knew.

he need to be patient with you. take his time unravelling you until there was nothing left.

he shook his head, fingers soft against your face, running across your cheek.

"don't worry, sweetheart, your dirty secret's safe with me."