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v3lv3tsin · 1 day ago

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bad time, good time: nishimura riki

| pairning: nishimura riki x reader

I genre: fashionmajor!niki, lawmajor!reader

I warnings: no warnings <3

I word count: 1.5k

I stefy's note: i know i should be focusing on the jungwon series but i suddenly got this idea at 3 am (i mean who isn't obsessed with korean convenience stores now lol), so enjoy :)

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

"Towards the middle of the thirteenth century inquisitorial procedure..." You felt your eyes glaze over the page once again, trying to focus on the words once again. Finally checking the clock on the wall opposite to your desk on the right side, to your surprise it showed 2 am.

No wonder why you felt tired in the first place. You've been studying and writing assignments ever since you woke up. Exams were coming soon so you couldn't and shouldn't be waisiting any time. Getting you out of your thoughts was the sound of your stomach rumbling which reminded you of your hunger.

Shit. Yeah. Maybe some snacks and ramen would help.

That's how you found yourself looking at the ramen isle in the small convenience not sure what kind of buldak ramen to have for dinner. Holding tightly onto the plastic glass cup filled with ice and the grape ade plastic bag you tiptoed hoping to reach the top shelf. You couldn't reach the one you wanted, before an arm extended from behind you and grabbed the ramen cup for you.

"Here!" Niki said, handing the ramen to you. Turning around to take the cup ramen from his hand you're met with a pair of brown eyes. The mysterious man was tall from what you could grasp.

Not wanting to stare for longer than expected, you answer. "Thanks." Pausing for a moment, you continue on the same surpirsed tone not expecting him to help you. "You didn't have to." Taking the cup ramen from his hand you take another look at him.

"Carbonara, huh?" Niki asked with a small grin on his face as he looks at the floor, then at your choice of noddles for dinner. It shouldn't be a surprise that you would choose the carbonara noodles since they're the best. Of course.

Seeing your confused face he decides to tease you. "You might need some cheese for that." Niki points at the sides isle hoping to make you understand what he meant in the first place.

"Yeah." You answer realizing that you forgot to get some cheese as buldak noodles are always better with a bit of cheese. Pausing to somehow manage to explain yourself you continue on the same confessing tone. "I totally forgot."

"I'm Niki, by the way." Niki says finally introducing himself, thinking it was high time he does so since you have been talking for some time now.

Extending his hand you take it hesitantly before introducing yourself to him. "Y/N." Shaking his hand you give him a shy smile before turning to leave and get the cheese you talked about until then.

"I guess i'll see you around." Niki adds seeing that you looked almost rushed to be anywhere but here. It was clear that he wanted to continue talking to you, but that was not the case for you.

Or so he thought.

Laying down onto the bed tiredly you open the history book to get back to reading you think to yourself. "Niki." Taking a bite from the noodles followed by a sip of the grape ade you bought moments ago you decide to check his instagram, hoping to at least to find some more information about him. To say the least, you were curious.

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| INSTAGRAM POST - NOV 15th.

niki_kikiki

Liked by wonkiten, byfsjy and 500 others

niki_kikiki ⏱️👔

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wonkiten he's not a baby mandu anymore

icehoon where's my credit

user01 THE SECOND PICTURE?! OMGG NI-KII 😫

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What the actual fuck? How does he look so handsome? And in a suit also. What's his major?

Taking another bite from the noodles as you decide to check another photo from his instagram hoping to see him in a different outfit and a hint probably of his major. That's when you clicked on the most recent photo that he had posted only to see that it was posted 5 hours ago.

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| INSTAGRAM POST - 5 hours ago.

niki_kikiki

Liked by icehoon, catseong and 1000 others

niki_kikiki 🪩

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catseong coolest dude i'm so serious

byfsjy WOAHH OKAYY BUDDY OKAY

user02 THE THIRD PICTURE HELLO!?!!!?

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As you were just about to take a sip of the grape ade you boughts hours ago seeing those pictures definetly shocked you. He looked so good. So hot.

Finally finishing your meal after taking one last look at Nikis instagram photos you get the history book that has been onto the bed the whole time. Looking over the pages trying to get back to reading the last word you remember is "Inquisition" before darkness steals your vision living you blind.

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Days later you found yourself in the same convenience store looking at the same ramen isle trying to choose what to have for dinner. Shaking you off your thoughts, as you were about to reach for your usual carbonara buldak noodles is a deep voice, almost familiar. Behind you.

Putting his hand against the metalic shelf, consequently trapping you between his body and the isle. "I didn't think i would see you again." Niki confesses in a low voice.

Turning around to be met with the same dark brown eyes from two days ago as you slightly blushed. Tilting your head you look at him confused for a second as you didn't expect to see him either. Especially not at this hour. "Well i'm here." You answer him not knowing exactly what to say.

Coming closer with his body to yours, Niki extends his hand to take two carbonara buldak noodles cups. He was close. Too close. Taking both of the noddle cups into his hand and holding them into his hand Niki finally answers you. "I was thinking..." Pausing for a second to rub the back of his neck as he looked down onto the floor he continues in a low voice. "Maybe we could eat together here."

Holding onto the plastic cup filled with ice and this time, a peach ice tea you looked at him and then onto the floor blushing. One thing was for sure, that you didn't expect to hear him say that. Before you could answer him or at least let him know what you felt about this idea his deep voice interrupts you.

"Here...I meant anywhere, not only here." Niki explains himself to you, hoping also for a positive answer. "We could eat somewhere else." Niki adds as he continues to explain himself to you. Giving you more ideas to where you two could eat together.

"I would love to" You answer him as you come closer hoping to calm him down as you could see that he wanted to continue talking. Looking at what he was holding into his hand you then decide to ask him in a teasing voice wanting to have less tension between the two of you. "Are you only getting ramen?"

"No, of course not." Niki answers before turning around to get a plastic cup filled with ice from the freezer only to be followed by you on his way. While you were walking to the freezer a jeonju bibimbap triangle kimbap caught your eye so you decide to take it. Turning around Niki eyes you before taking the plastic cup and his drink of choice, a caramel ice americano.

"Since we're eating together i was wondering maybe we could get some snacks." He suggests on a shy tone wanting to spend more time with you as the last time he wasn't able to. He wanted to get to know you.

Nodding you follow him to the chips isle where you took different kinds, some that you have tried before, some that you haven't. Laughing about your height was also Niki as most of the times you couldn't reach the top shelf. Finally reaching the register with the basket full of things you and Niki both wanted to try, when you wanted to pay he didn't let you, with the excuse that "it's on him."

It's not a date,right? It's a date. Is it?

Was all you could think of when he decided to pay for the food. Sitting down at the table at the convenience store as it started raining only yours and his laughs could be heard. Niki would mostly tease you about your snack choices or even the simple fact of what games you play.

Your prediction from days was true, he was in fact a fashion major. No surprise there. Niki would talk about how much he loves it because he is able to express himself. Later in the evening you found yourselves walking on the way to your apartment as he especially mentioned that "a girl shouldn't go alone so late at night."

Before entering the apartment, without any warning, you come closer to Niki with the original intent of kissing his cheek and saying "thanks a lot for the night." But he had other plans. That's when you could feel his lips on yours. You on your tiptoes having to reach his height as you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer.

"Wow." Taking a deep breath after he pulled away that's all he could say. "I...." Pausing for a second he rubbs the back of his neck while looking at you before continuing. "I guess i'll see you around."

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Days later you get a notification of a post you have been tagged on. Opening your phone, while in the middle of the contract law lecture you're surprised to see a photo of Niki and you, along with two other pictures of him with the outfit he wore that night. You didn't expect that, so it surely surprised you.

It was cute. He was cute.

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| INSTAGRAM POST - NOV 20th.

niki_kikiki

Liked by yourusername, 01boy and 2000 others

niki_kikiki 🌃

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yourusername <3

01boy broo that's why you missed game night

ppysnoo cuties

user03 and now he has a girlfriend

USERNAMES GUIDE:

1. niki_kikiki = niki

2. wonkiten = jungwon

3. catseong = jay

4. icehoon = sunghoon

5. byfsjy = jake

6. 01boy = heeseung

7. ppysnoo = sunoo

#Spotify #enhypen #enha #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #riki nishimura x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen niki #niki nishimura #nishimura riki x you #riki x reader #enhypen riki #kpop smut #enhypen smut

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thursdayinspace · 3 days ago

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I started writing porn during my work breaks to torture my friends (as you do) and sometimes it turns into feelings, so whatever, I'll drop this here. Possibly part of a WIP now because isn't everything these days? (My poor WIP folder.)

They spent so much time apart, first because he was dead, then because he distanced himself from her after coming back, and then because he was in hiding. Now that they’re back together, they can’t stop kissing, they can’t stop touching. They’re always connected, holding hands, standing with their sides pressed together, small pecks hello or goodbye turning into long, hungry kisses, hands clawing at each other to get closer, closer, always closer.

At night they fall asleep with their legs tangled, her head on his chest, or him spooned up behind her; they fit together so perfectly. Words are still difficult. So much has happened. He feels endless guilt for leaving her alone, leaving her to deal with the fallout of their decisions all on her own. She feels guilt heavy in her heart for giving up their son, for depriving him of his chance to be a father, she feels like the destroyer of their little family.

Touch comes easier to them and they tell each other what they can’t say through letting their bodies speak for them. It’s hard and rough some nights, pure desperation, don’t ever leave me again because I’d die, mark me, make me yours, ruin me for anyone else. Most nights it’s unbearably slow and tender, laced with a melancholy sadness mixed with tentative hope growing in the shadows that hold both danger and promise. It’s apology and affirmation, I’m sorry, I love you, here’s my heart for you to keep, it’s always been yours and always will be.

She opens her legs for him and he pushes into her slowly, coming home, covering her with his body as she holds him close. He doesn’t move, just kisses her, and she kisses back. This is what they need, connection, physical metaphor for everything language can’t yet express. When he starts rolling his hips it’s slow and shallow; they’re full of need, burning with desire for release, but every time they fall over that edge it means it’s over. Until next time. And they never take next times for granted anymore. Not after everything they’ve lost.

His forehead rests against hers as they breathe each other’s air, as her hands roam his back and he fucks her so gently, with such soul-deep devotion it brings tears to her eyes as she clenches around him, holding onto him so tightly with every part of her being.

They’re still unpracticed, they’d only just started when he was taken from her, they didn’t have a chance after he returned. But they’re learning, learning each other, learning this new language. The sounds that mean they need more, or less, or that it’s perfect.

She comes first, and he knows what to do, how to move to make it good for her, to keep her coming and coming until her moans turn into whimpers through that final crest before her body goes soft under him, and only then does he let himself go, spilling into her with a broken sound escaping his throat. It’s an ending and an oath, a beginning, a confirmation of continuity: them against the world, forever. In this moment, they’re a part of each other, their combined pleasure stronger and more meaningful than any marriage vow could ever be.

He stays inside her as long as he can and they part reluctantly, only to come back together later, always. There are no guarantees, but there are promises, there’s love. They’ll make it work.

#txf #the x files #msr #mulder and scully #fic #or whatever this is #idk idk #typing out a few hundred words of feelings-smut in between things gets me through the day #I suppose there are weirder ways to cope

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back2bluesidex · 20 hours ago

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Slide - The Vacation - MYG

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 1.6k

Summary:

"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die"

Alternatively,

Yoongi finally finds an answer to all of his questions.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Warnings: Angst, angst and angst

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

Taglist requests are closed for now

A/N: This chapter has both readers and Yoongi's pov.

Read the next chapter

“I want to try being with you. If you’d let me.” Yoongi had said, just less than an hour ago, standing at your dining place.

If you have ever thought you would be squealing like a schoolgirl when he mistakenly professes his love for you - then you had been wrong. Because those words of his - rang hollow.

Those words of his had no promise, no meaning, only a tone of experiment - or maybe less than that.

Your tears have dried up. You have cried much more in the span of a year than you ever had in these twenty eight years of life.

So you don’t cry.

Even when you stare at your bathroom mirror, without the sign of another life springing into you - you don’t cry.

Even when the metallic smell of your own blood-soaked sheets dances around your senses - you don’t cry.

Even when Yoongi’s voice saying he doesn’t know what he feels for you rings loudly in your head - you don’t cry.

The woman who is standing at the place of your reflection is you - but emptier.

Now, truly, you have nothing left in yourself.

The baby is gone, Yoongi is gone, you - yourself - are gone.

When Yoongi broke and scattered the broken pieces all over your sanity, you picked those up, put them up in a stack.

Now that you are at the same place, who is going to do that for you?

No one?

Yourself.

So you decide, you need a vacation.

Attachment and Expectations are two human behaviors that you have always dreaded.

You have purposefully stayed away from everyone, whoever you thought would get you attached. And you have always expected the least positive outcome whenever it comes to human connections.

At the beginning, Yoongi was no exception.

You admired him but never stepped past the professional boundaries in fear of getting attached, until he broke the norms.

Even when you realized you fell in love, you expected nothing more than the warmth of his body. But your resolve weakened whenever he looked at you for a little longer than necessary, whenever he shared tales about Holly, whenever he treated you to a meal.

Now that you are determined to heal yourself - you realize this is the root of the problem.

You are attached to Yoongi and you have expected Yoongi to have a similar feeling towards you.

Wrong. So wrong.

You need to break free.

So, you try to save what’s left of your sanity and avoid looking at Yoongi as he and Namjoon sit right across from you in the same meeting room where everything went south a month and half ago.

Your feet bounce under the table, your breath shortens under Namjoon’s scrutinizing eyes.

“Y/N, tell us what’s wrong? Why suddenly - I mean, I am not saying no your application but you have hardly ever been to such a long holiday? And if I am being honest, then you look quite unwell. Is there something we should know?” Namjoon is concerned, you know that. You are even grateful but you have no energy to answer him, no energy to lie anymore.

You have no will to spend another minute inside the same room as Yoongi - because no matter what - you love him and you want him to wrap his hands around you and let you cry in his embrace.

You want him to mourn with you.

You want him to mourn for you.

“I was pregnant. I lost the baby two nights ago. I am neither mentally nor physically fit to work for now. Besides, I don’t have any important projects going on.” you reply flatly.

Saying these words out loud, makes things even more real.

Pain crawls back inside your heart and fills your eyes to the brim.

Namjoon has gone quiet.

Yoongi has always been silent.

“O-oh.. I- I didn’t know. I’m sorry. It must be tough, Y/N. Please take care of yourself.” Namjoon fumbles with words, a rare sight.

Funny how your misery has rendered the smart ones dumb.

He approves your leave in his laptop as you raise your feet to leave.

“Are you going alone?” His voice interrupts your action.

Yoongi doesn’t look at you, he stares blankly at the table.

“Yes.” you reply.

“Stay safe.” he adds.

And you want nothing more than to scream at him, to tell him that he fucked you up. But in reality you know he is troubled too - that it’s your fault as much as it's his.

“Sure.” you mutter, as you quietly slip out of the room.

Two nights ago when you left the bathroom the first thing you did was to look for your phone. When you found it laying idly by your laptop on your desk, you dialed Hoseok’s number for the second time that evening.

You were incredibly sorry to him.

He was but a stranger to you and had no responsibility of attending to your troubles but still he showed up when you called him sitting on your bloody bed and came rushing to you despite being busy.

This time too, he received your call right after two rings.

“I need a vacation, Hoseok. Do you.. Do you know any wellness retreats that might help me?” you asked.

“That’s a really good thought, Y/N. I will send you a few links, check those out, okay?” he replied.

And that’s how you ended up packing your bags for a month-long retreat in Thailand.

Yoongi didn’t come back home that night.

He went straight to a snack bar and drank seven bottles of distilled Soju all alone.

However, he didn’t black out this time. He knew there would be no calling you if he passed out on the floor, covered in vomit and mud.

He knew there would be no kindness from your side - he doesn’t deserve it - he never had.

While he drank the only thing he could recall is that you were carrying his baby. That you were on the very first step of being a mother and him a father.

Weird how, if these same words would have come out Gyuri’s mouth, he would have freaked out so bad.

But it’s you. And whenever he thought of you, he could picture a quiet life. A condo in an upscale neighborhood, floor to ceiling windows where he could enjoy mellow sunlight sitting on the couch with you.

Where he could cook for you in the kitchen and then serve you food piping hot or maybe feed you upon blowing a little.

Those thoughts had always shaken him to the core, made him question his feelings towards you but at the end of the day, he always left himself with no answer.

On the next morning when he woke up with the worst hangover ever, he decided to do what you have asked him to.

He decided to give himself time and question himself regularly, repeatedly, that what is it that he feels for you?

And while doing so, he decided to stay away from you - give you time to find your footing and mourn for the loss.

He decides to mourn too.

However, he got completely ruined like a damp wall with several cracks when he read your leave application.

You had applied for a month-long holiday.

A month without you? Without seeing you for a glance? Without hearing from you, even a word? Without having to watch you pressing the button on the seventh floor on the elevator, without your quiet sitting figure in the meetings, without your habit of writing lyrics on pen and paper rather than using your ipad?

Can he… can he survive?

“Y/N..” he finds himself following you after you leave the meeting room.

You don’t startle, nor do you turn back. You stand in the middle of the corridor and wait for him to finish his sentence.

“When are you leaving?” he asks from where his feet are stuck on the floor.

“Tomorrow morning.” you reply briefly.

“Incheon?”

“Gimpo”

“Can I come? To see you off?”

“You don’t need to.”

“I want to. I want to see you off. I want to know… to know what I- what I feel for you.”

He confesses to your back.

You, probably, sigh.

“Okay.” you say before walking off.

When he reaches the airport as per the timing you have sent him - he sees you sitting a little far away from the check in counter.

“Hey.” he approaches you.

You look up at him with tired, blank eyes. Your eyes want to make him cry.

“Hi. I was only waiting for you. I gotta go check in.” your voice is just as blank.

He nods.

“Bye.” you try to walk away from him.

But he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“I will.. I will be here when you come back.” he whispers, only for you to hear.

You nod.

And then something crashes inside Yoongi, the dam of his eyes breaks and tears start falling unbound. He pulls you closer to his body, envelops you in a hug.

You stay still but he doesn’t mind.

He relishes your warmth, your smell, your feel for as long as he can.

When he lets go, his lips find yours.

He kisses you softly, with everything he has in himself.

You don’t kiss him back but he doesn’t mind.

For you, he will wait.

Because right then, while you part your way from him, Yoongi finds an answer to all his questions.

Yoongi realizes… He is in love with you.

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daenysx · 11 hours ago

Note

hii angel, can i request modern aemond as dad or with a pregnant reader for the sleepover??i miss dad!aemond

thanks, my love, i hope you enjoy <333

modern!aemond targaryen x pregnant fem!reader

"you can't help yourself, can you?" aemond steps in, catching you on your feet as you try to reach to a book on the higher shelf. "you need to be resting."

you scoff, irritated and honestly so tired. "i wanted a book."

"you should've told me."

"i can do things by myself."

"you are seven months pregnant and the doctor told you to keep things easy. trying to reach a book that high is not easy."

you roll your eyes. what does he want you to do, just scream his name every time you need the tiniest thing? you know he means the best, but this is getting tiring at this point, same conversations over and over, and you just want to relax. your back hurts, your legs get numb when you lie down too much. it's not easy to carry a baby.

aemond gives up. you look like you're gonna cry, frustrated and kind of cute. he takes a few steps to come next to you. he's quiet as he leans down to brush a shallow kiss on your forehead.

"i never want you to be upset." he says.

"i know."

"i apologise if i become overbearing." aemond whispers. he surrenders easily as he puts a hand on your belly. "i just want both of you to be okay."

"you're not overbearing." you tell him with a soft voice. he just wants to be better, he can't fail this. "i'm tired and i miss doing things by myself."

he hugs you in a weird angle, neither of you care. he smells so nice and his sweater is soft against your cheek, he feels safe and strong when you lean to his chest. he kisses your head, you close your eyes. it's so nice to think you'll have a baby with him in less than two months.

"which book did you want?"

"i don't want it anymore." you say. "any chance you'd like lie down with me?"

"sure." aemond accepts your offer casually. you look lovely when you get what you want, all glowy and pretty, it's a funny feeling to know his dreams came through. he takes you to couch, your new favorite spot to lie down, the fluffy blanket is thrown over and ready to be used.

you got used to adjusting your body in a comfy position before you sleep. aemond gives you space to use the couch however you want, he settles down next to you when you're ready.

"my baby." he whispers, putting his hand on your belly. you like it when he drags his fingers all over you, circles and lines, his fingertips rest nicely on your skin.

you let out a good breath as the weight on your back decreases slowly. your hand goes on your belly to catch aemond's fingers. will the baby have his hair? you are so curious of the details, it lessens the ache in your body. will she have your eyes? the possible combinations of your looks are endless, aemond keeps wishing she could look like you.

"i can rub your back." he offers, gently. "or i can read your book out loud if you want to fall asleep after. just please- let me do things for you."

"you're doing so many things for me." you murmur to his chest.

"i need to do more, sweetheart." he whispers. "nothing feels enough."

the urge to take care of you is stronger than ever. it's for his sanity, really.

"you'll be a really good dad, aemond." you say before falling asleep, and aemond will never forget your words. "i'm sure she'll tell you this exact same thing when she grows up."

dreamer girl sleepover ♡

#dreamer girl sleepover ♡#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #modern!aemond #aemond x you #aemond x reader #hotd #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #dad!aemond

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l0vedrvgg · 21 hours ago

Text

let’s play a game!

a game i used to play with my cousins when we were young and its how i shifted when i was 5.

game rules:

-you have no limits you can even shape shift and have super powers!

-let go of the outer world because once the game starts you become who you chose to be.

-choose someone to play the game with for better acting but you can still act alone.

now lets start!

choose your desire.

choose someone to play the game with (optional).

the outer world and any worries or thoughts related to the 3d don’t exist anymore once the game starts.

start the game and have fun! you are now in your desired world!!!.

end game whenever desired but make sure to have fun!.

now why does this work?

because you are now embodying your desired self and forgetting about your old self/world and you’re just letting it be

you wont care anymore about what you see because you have it now!

you accept your imagination as the real and only reality no matter what you see and the game is actually fun because you can have wtv you want with no limits

actually once you accept the game as real you will notice that your imagination will align with your desires by itself which means that the 3d will start reflecting your desires!

im gonna give you 2 examples

example-1

lets say that you want to shift to your favorite movie or series. now start the game and once it starts your house becomes your dr house, your parents? dr parents or characters, your siblings? your dr siblings or friends. remember when you were a kid and you acted like you had super powers and stuff? literally do the same thing you used to do thats how you act as if. it has always been fun and it was never like a chore.

example-2

lets say that you want a different appearance. literally talk to yourself about how you look so gorgeous and how you look exactly like you how want. every time you walk see your desired body walking, every time you look in the mirror you are actually seeing your desired face. literally when you are walking in the streets everyone is seeing you with your desired appearance and imagine all the compliments theyre thinking of if not saying.

the reason i like this is that you dont have to close your eyes and affirm or imagine as if its a chore or smth and then go back to your old story. no you have your desires now and you are actually living it and its fun because its a game! you can even include other people in it which makes it more fun. and this way doesn’t separate the 3d from the 4d which imo is much better

#loa blog #manifestation #shiftblr #loablr #reality shifting blog #loa tumblr #loassblog #manifesation #manifesting #shifting realities #shifting community #shifting blog #reality shifting #shifters #neville goddard #law of assumption

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godmadeaterribleerror · 2 days ago

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Chapter 2 - Sick and Full of Pride

Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, fluff, mutual pining, smut, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: You, Dean, and a sleeping Sam drive back to the bunker. Usual Warnings, plus light smut.

Author's Note: Dean driving does Things to me have a whole chapter with it.

Title from Drive by Halsey

Word Count: 5k

Read on A03!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

You’ve been in the car for almost eleven hours. The drive home was supposed to be eight, Dean is by no means going slow, and—as he’s told you many, many times—he doesn’t get lost, so you’re starting to suspect that you won’t be home any time soon.

As such, you’re now trying to find a reason to very casually and inconspicuously bring up that, if you’re looking at another three hours in the Impala, you’d appreciate it if you and Dean could make the team effort to kick Sam into the back so you can move to shotgun. You rarely get the opportunity—it arises exclusively when Sam wants to sprawl across the larger bench, you made Dean pie to get on his good side, or Dean and Sam are fighting, so Sam loses shotgun privileges—so you plan to take full advantage of this one.

Dean beats you to it. He’s been drumming on the wheel for about an hour in a beat you can’t find any real pattern to, he keeps shifting in his seat, and when he meets your eyes in the rearview mirror, there’s something that’s not quite stress—but close to it—on his face.

“Do you, uh, you wanna come up here?”

You blink, leaning forward between the seats to whisper in his ear. Don’t want to wake up Sam, and, really, any excuse to whisper with Dean is one you’ll take. “Yeah, but,” you glance at the sleeping lump of Sam. “What about Goliath?”

Dean shrugs. “He can sleep in the back. He’s lanky,” Dean says your name, shooting you a small grin, and you almost fall forward. “And I want you up here.”

“Oh.” You flush, but force yourself not to read into it. Sam’s asleep. Asleep people are worse company than awake people. “Okay.”

“You’ll talk to me, right? Up here?”

He sounds a little nervous, and your words fall out in a rush of reassurance. “Of course I’ll talk to you. I lo-” You catch yourself, and focus your attention on a dial on the dashboard as you continue. “I like talking to you. I’ll always talk to you.”

“So yeah?” Dean’s voice is casual, but he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s staring at the road—which he probably should’ve been doing the whole time—and his grip has become white-knuckled and tight on the wheel. “You’ll come up here?”

“If you can get Sam out, sure-“

Dean pulls off the side of the road, pushing his door open, and stomping around the hood of Baby. You’re a little dumbstruck, not entirely sure what’s happening, and a small rap of Dean’s knuckles on the window pull you back to your senses.

You push your door open, frowning up at him. “What-“

“Let’s go.” Dean’s hand moves to your arm, but he flinches back almost immediately, like you’ve burned him. Even in just the streetlights, you could swear he’s blushing. “C’mon, Sweetheart, need some backup.”

Once you’re out of the car, rubbing your arms and watching Dean and Sam exchange low words—Dean’s sounding urgent and Sam’s just sounding a little irritated—you try to look up and down the street for some clue of where you are. It’s mostly bushes, yellowing grass, and telephone poles—so literally anywhere in the Midwest—and this old dirt road isn’t really that different from any other dirt road, but it still feels familiar. Like you’ve been on it before. And the track marks on the upcoming path look suspiciously similar to the track marks behind Baby-

Sam stands up and shuffles to the backseat with a few grumbling sounds, and Dean holds the door open for you.

“M’lady.” He makes a wide, sweeping gesture to the seat, and you give him an amused, dry look as you walk up to his side, trying not to get high on how incredibly real his boyish, proud smile looks.

“You’re very cheesy sometimes, you know.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t seem bothered, and his eyes never leave yours as you climb into the seat. “Part of my charm.”

There isn’t a good answer for you to offer him that isn’t God, it really is, so you just make a half-hearted shrug and sink into yourself, letting Dean close the door and return to the wheel.

The first few minutes are silent, and the longer you look at the passing fields, the more you feel like you’ve seen them before.

“Hey, Dean?”

He hums, and you turn your head to see his gaze flicking between you and the road.

“Do you know how much longer we have left? Before we’re home?”

“Few hours.” He shrugs, and it’s a loose movement, which is a good sign. “Traffic’s a bitch.”

You glance out the windshield to the completely empty, dark street. “Traffic.”

“Yep.”

It’s not worth pushing him on. You’re fine here—you’re fine anywhere if you’re next to Dean—and Sam looks a little more comfortable, so if the drive ends up going until morning, you won’t care that much. You might become a little more worried about Dean, but you’ve gotten used to being worried about Dean. You’d rather the worry be about he might be losing his sense of direction, or developing short-term memory loss, because we’ve definitely taken this right before instead of he’s shattering glass and doesn’t seem to do anything but look sad and it’s going to make you cry.

“So, um,” you keep your eyes on the dial from before, because looking at Dean while you talk to him is never a good idea. “You’re still feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling great. Whatever hocus pocus shit Rowena did worked wonders, Sweetheart, I’m feeling amazing.”

You smile, and something that’s been tight around your heart for months loosens. “That’s really good, Dean. I know you didn’t want to try this, but-“

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” You see another loose shrug in your periphery, and your smile grows. “I gotta listen to you and Sam more, sometimes your ideas can actually be good.”

That makes you look up at him—primarily to glare—and it’s immediately a mistake. The shadows and ripples from the streetlight, cutting over his lips and jaw and cheekbones in the night, are making him look somehow more attractive, and you think it’s because of the joy. Dean’s grinning between you and the road, and there are no burdens pushing his shoulders down or weighted over his handsome features, and his whole face looks happy.

“Um,” you swallow, unable to tear your gaze away from Dean. “What’s the betterlust feel like? What does it want?”

Dean pauses, and he clears his throat in a deep, rough sound that is incredibly unproductive for actually focusing on his words.

“Feels like the bloodlust, I guess. I don’t, uh, it’s like a hunger.” Dean runs one hand carefully over the wheel, glancing at you with darkened eyes you can’t read, but want to watch you forever. “But for really specific things. And if it doesn’t get those things, I get…” He trails off, shaking his head slightly. “I feel like shit.”

“Like a craving?”

“Exactly like a craving.” Dean shoots you a grin that’s all pleased teeth, and you couldn’t look away from him if you tried. “Kinda like when we’re on a stakeout and suddenly you want a burrito, and if we don’t get you a burrito you start to get all mean and whiny.”

“I do not get mean or whiny-“

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “You get very mean and whiny. I ain’t gonna forget when you threatened to castrate Sam because he brought you a salad.”

“And I won’t forget that you backed me up, Winchester. You offered to get my knife.”

“Because you were being mean and whiny, and I’m not looking to ever get castrated.” He gives a fake, overdramatic shutter. “The loss of Dean Jr. would hit many people very hard.”

You flush, whacking his arm. “Asshole, I was not going to castrate you-“

“You would.” He shoots you a wink. “But don’t worry about it. I appeased the monster, and everything’s intact and functional down there.”

It takes effort to roll your eyes, because you know he’s not even taunting you on purpose. Dean has no way to know that you’d never castrate him—you probably weren’t going to castrate Sam either, the point was more to put the fear of God in him for thinking salad was an acceptable alternative to burrito—because the monster he was teasing you about lived in your abdomen and only roared for him. It reared it’s head at the deep, rolling sound of Dean’s voice, grew warm and sensitive at every brush of a big, rough hand on your skin, and was fed by any sliver or scrap of attention he threw you. The only way to truly appease the monster was to let it out of where you’d trapped and desperately ignored it, and the only way to let it out was for Dean to look at you, and not stop.

But you’d learned to deal with that. As long as the monster was tended to, kept in line and from falling out of your mouth with a shout of Dean! I love you! Please look at me, because I really, really love you! You’d be fine.

“Fine.” You sigh. “I’ll give you mean, but I have never been whiny in my life-“

He gives you a flat look of amusement. “You’re a little whiny right now, Sweetheart.”

There’s no way for you to win this argument, Dean’s backed you into a corner you’re more than happy to be in—it means he’s smirking at you, unbelievably pleased with himself, and he’s drumming on the wheel again—so you just roll your eyes.

“Shut up.”

“Uh huh.”

You flip him off, he lets out a loud laugh, causing Sam to stir in the back seat.

“Dean,” you hiss, your hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “Quiet-“

He scoffs, pulling your hand down. “Sam’ll be fine, he’s slept through more than me laughing. Don’t know where the hell his hunter instincts go when he knocks out, but nothing short of a hurricane is gonna wake him up now.”

“I know that, I’m just,” you glance at your hand, back in your laps as still buzzing where your palm had covered Dean’s lips. “He’s been really tired.”

Dean’s grin drops slightly, eyes flicking between you and the road. “What about you.”

“What about me?”

“Are you tired?”

You pause, trying to get a read on your own body. Your eyelids do feel heavy, and your body does have that strained feeling of exhaustion between your muscles and bones, but you’ve been more tired. And moments like this—just you and Dean, talking without any worries or sadness or pain—are so rare, you don’t want to miss any of it.

“I guess. But-“

“Get some sleep,” Dean says your name in a stern voice, his attention fixed back onto the road. “We’ll be home soon.”

You blink at him, and realize he’s taking the first left turn in almost three hours. “I’m fine, Dean-“

“You and Sam have been working overtime for me,” he grunts, shooting you a firm look that’s not angry, but firm. “You both deserve some rest. I’ll get you up when we’re back.”

You’re going to argue—to push back and try to explain that you can sleep later, you’re not really that tired and you’d choose talking to Dean over almost anything—but he turns up the music and that’s it. You’re not moving him on this, and if he thinks you need rest, he won’t talk to you until he deems you’ve rested.

It’s insufferable, and annoying, and so fucking impossible to fight with how he won’t stop looking at you with concern, until you sigh, curl into your seat, and pretend to close your eyes.

You’ve gotten good at faking sleep around Dean. At keeping your eyes just open enough to watch him like, admittedly, a creep, and savoring the moments where he’s just himself. He’s not trying to perform the big hero and protector and fighter role for you and Sam that he’s so good at—despite what he seems to think—because you and Sam are both, allegedly, asleep.

Well, Sam’s definitely asleep. But you’re drifting, toeing the careful line between the hazy fantasies that run through your head on loop and the reality of Dean, right next to you and so damn pretty.

He’s always so pretty, and right now he’s alive. He’s purely Dean—entirely himself, which is and always has been more than enough—and it makes his every movement electric. Every dart of his tongue over his lips—pink and full and probably soft and well fit on your own—makes you salivate, and that makes you wish he’d run a broad, thick finger over your mouth, wiping away the slight drool.

He’s drumming on the wheel again, and it turns into some sort of rhythmic lullaby, moving you higher and higher until everything is Dean.

It’s his strong, firm arms wrapping around you and flexing as he moves the wheel, and pinning your hands above your head with big, calloused hands you could swear keep brushing over your cheeks. It’s those lips that drive you insane pressing small, soft kisses all over your body before moving to your lips and turning desperate and rough. Dean’s tongue down your throat and his nose suddenly bumping against your clit.

He’s moved, down, down, down your body—you can feel marks that never really formed but are still sensitive and blissful from Dean’s presence—and suddenly you’re so needy you might die from it. You can still see Dean—the actual Dean, his eyes locked on the road in reality but focusing only on you in your head—and you can’t focus on anything else. His hands gripping the wheel are suddenly holding and kneading at your hips, but still deep inside you, pumping in and out in the same rhythm of the song.

It’s mostly fantasy now. You can smell the leather and whiskey and amber of Dean, your Dean—not your Dean, not your anything unless it’s here, in your half-dreams—and hear his humming, feel the heat radiating off his body. And it’s all feeding into each other, and now you’ll never come down. It will just keep being Dean’s hands on you—tossing you around like a ragdoll but touching your skin in a way that’s painfully careful—and body caging yours in. His full lips sucking and nipping at your neck and breasts and inner thighs, his tongue flicking at your nipples and clit and running over your teeth. Dean hold you down, up, under him or above him or against him, touching you however he wants because God, you’re not needy and desperate by any means but it would feel so good for him to use you. To be the cause of his post-sex swagger walk—as you and Sam have deemed it—or receive one of those cocky winks over breakfast. To hear him praise you, or praise him, or do anything he asks because he always does most anything for you.

Except this. This one thing—playing with you until you’re screaming his name and seeing stars—is the only thing Dean hasn’t done for you. Won’t do for you. You’ll never ask of it, you won’t be able to handle it when he says no aloud in a deep, gruff apology, and so you’ll just live here. In fantasy, where Dean’s attention is fixed on you and never strays. Because in this fake world, it’s only you and Dean, and you could like that forever.

And, right before sleep pulls you under, you could swear that Dean’s eyes on your are deep and blown-out with hunger, and realer than anything else in the world.

——————

Dean was starting to get the hang of this. It was surprisingly easy to do most of what the betterlust demanded, because they were things Dean already did all the damn time. Driving was an obvious one that he’d latched onto almost immediately—something in Dean’s brain had always felt a little easier to live with when he drove, and his hands never felt dirty when he was holding Baby’s wheel—and was easy to feed. Dean had to drive, because that’s how they got around. She and Sam knew him well enough to not try and ask and drive themselves, and it was part of Dean’s job to drive them between cases and the bunker, so satisfying the betterlust had pretty much been handed to him as a quick, easy fix.

But the trick seemed to be not feeding it too much. Taking just enough to satiate the betterlust into something that didn’t make him feel sick and hot, but keeping it from going overboard, because it was really fucking easy to go overboard. To get in the car and know that the drive could be short, but Sam had knocked himself out and She probably wouldn’t be far behind, so if Dean missed two or three turns or drove in an overly complex circle for two hours, nobody would stop him. They were only an hour from the bunker, nobody seemed to be upset by the additional time in Baby, and driving sent Dean’s head into some sort of humming, blissful joy he’d never felt in his damn life. It was like the quiet ease of driving had been duplicated, amplified, then shot right into his blood.

And two or three turns turned into nine or ten, and two hours became four. And She didn’t fall asleep, and the betterlust started to get hungry again. He couldn’t stop glancing in the rearview mirror at Her drop-dead gorgeous face that couldn’t be his, and wanting her. Wanting Her to say one word to him, or smile at him, or sit just a little closer so he could offer the betterlust something. Anything that wasn’t this starving, tortuous, ugly need for Her. Closer closer closer, never close enough and She needs to be closer so Dean doesn’t rip off his own skin from how it’s boiling or pull out his tongue because it’s starting to cave in with words he’s not allowed to say.

Dean didn’t trust himself to talk to Her, but the longer she was awake, within his reach, and invading his head with Her everything, the closer he felt going batshit insane. He had to keep himself in fucking check, and figure out what he could be allowed to do with this.

He could not be allowed to touch Her. Touching Her was dangerous. Touching Her made this high feel like he’d died in the best way possible. Touching Her was like all the simple easy of driving and the sweet taste of pie and humming strength of a good drum line in a song that pounded in Dean’s chest were rolled into one thing that was soft and warm and just real good. The betterlust fall entirely silent just when his hand brushed against Her’s, then became loud and feral when the contact was taken away. Touching Her was so good that it made everything else became pointless. Touching Her was the best, so Dean could not be allowed to touch Her because then he’d never stop.

And this wasn’t dangerous. It was just driving, and everyone knew Dean loved driving, and Dean felt like he could walk away from this. That, when they parked and She and Sam shuffled back inside, Dean was strong enough to ignore the hungry voice in his head and itch in his hands to just start driving again. Just like how he’d eat a cheeseburger, but he didn’t always need to eat a cheeseburger. He’d eat pie, and then walk away. Dean could control this. The betterlust was easy to feed, and better to feed—She’d really nailed it on the head with that—and nobody got hurt.

As long as Dean kept himself under control, nobody got hurt.

So Dean could talk to Her. Be near Her with the knowledge that, if he let his gaze linger on Her peaceful, sleeping face for too long, he’d be more of a goner than he already was and never be able to look away. It was safe to do in the car, where he could pull his attention away because of safety and immediately offer the betterlust some more driving the fill the loss of Her. Dean could keep driving, and look at Her in moderation, and nobody would have to freak out about certain people being in love with certain other people, or an annoying, third person who was a massive lump in Baby’s back seat getting a smug I told you so face.

Sam was wrong, though. There wouldn’t be anything to be smug about with Her and Dean, because Sam was wrong. As they neared the bunker—for real this time—it was just Dean, the rumble of the engine, and the music, Dean fell further into his head. Usually the music could drown his thoughts out, but the betterlust was so determined to have Her that he needed to grab it and shout that having Her wasn’t a fucking option. Dean could offer the betterlust whatever it wanted, except Her. He tried to reason with it—She’s too good, Dean isn’t close to good enough, and She doesn’t want him so he can’t lose her over something dumb like feelings—but it didn’t seem interested in Dean’s flawless, rational logic. The betterlust just wanted Her in every way possible, and Dean couldn’t get Her, and this might be worse than the bloodlust. This was unfixable, and Dean wanted it just as much as the betterlust, and his chest was going to cave in on itself and take his heart down into his stomach, pressing it to tiny pieces and pushing it out so everyone could see how little control Dean had over his own goddamn body.

He’d have to get through this. They were only ten minutes from the bunker, and he’d work out how to see Her in moderation, and She wouldn’t get uncomfortable from how much of a sick, twisted, perverted son of a bitch he was, and he’d have Her as he was allowed to and never lose Her. He’d do every other thing that fed the betterlust, and nobody had to get hurt. The whole point of this was to stop the hurt, so Dean would get a fucking grip and live with what She and Sam had worked so hard to get him.

Then She started moaning. Dean thought it was just a noise of discomfort at first—he even slowed down so he didn’t disturb Her—but then she did it again, and it was breathless and needy and he was going to die. He could feel his face turn red, feel how his jeans were suddenly painful to wear and all the blood in his body was focused and throbbing where Dean needed Her, and all his plans of keep Her close but still at a manageable distance went out the window. Her lips were parted as Her breathing became heavy, She was squirming slightly in the seat under the touch of whatever the hell was doing that to her in her dreams, and Dean might have be forced to jump out of the car if he wasn’t already pulling into the bunker.

There was a long moment—right after he turned off the engine—where the only sounds were Sam’s snoring and Her moaning, and Dean wondered if this was hell. If Rowena had actually just killed him in that kiddie pool, and he was being tortured with Her looking and sounding and being like something he wanted to eat but was just out of his reach, all while his little brother slept in the back seat.

Dean adjusted himself in his seat—hiding his boner from Her view and blocking Her from Sam’s—and cleared his throat as loud as he possibly could.

Her eyes blinked open—hazy and blown out from either sleep or Her dream—and even Her adorable, sleepy yawn made Dean twitch in his pants.

“Hey,” She rolled a little onto her side, pushing herself upright, and Her voice sounded airy and soft and Dean could not look Her in the eyes. “Are we home?”

Dean grunted, nodding, and he had to get out of here. If he didn’t, he’d either kiss Her or explode. “Just parked,” he muttered, clenching his fists on Baby’s wheel in a slow pattern that usually calmed him down, but right now was doing jack shit. “Gonna go get some food.”

She hummed, leaning forward into Dean’s periphery with an expression he recognized as Her Dean, please be okay one. She was trying to kill him.

“Are you-“

“I’m fine. Hungry.” That wasn’t a lie. Dean was starving, just for something that wasn’t exactly food. It was right at his side, and probably wet and bitter in a way that would be so fucking good, and moan and whimper like a song, would shiver at his touch and grind on his hands and face and cock and-

He had to get out of here.

“Got pie in the freezer,” Dean said, pushing Baby’s door open in the way that he always yelled at Sam about. Too rough and reckless, practically punching her open, and he didn’t have the time to chastise himself or apologize to his car, because he had to go. “Wake up Sam for me.”

“Dean-“

“I said I’m good.”

“I know, but can you, can you please just look at me-“

Dean’s head turned of its own will, and it was the biggest mistake of his life. Her face was still slightly flushed, and she looked so nervous and worried, and her eyes were scanning over his face the same way they did in his dreams. Where he’d be covered in blood, and She’d look him over with care that never seemed to waver with doubt, and guide him into the shower. Strip them both, pull Dean under clear, steaming water and kiss him as all the blood was washed away. He’d be allowed to roll Her nipples between his fingers, and shove his knee between her thighs, and kiss Her until she said his name-

“Dean-“

He had to shake his head, force the spell of Her out of his vision and head and blood, and grab the betterlust by the throat to stop it from grabbing Her face and pulling it to his. She wouldn’t want that, and She shouldn’t do things she didn’t want to do, and Dean couldn’t be near Her like this. He still couldn’t control himself, and all of this had been a mistake because he could hurt something bad and sit in the guilt and hatred but still have Her, but now he couldn’t have Her at all.

He wasn’t even sure what his excuse was, but within the next ten seconds he was half running out of the garage, into the bunker, and locking himself in his room like some sort of feral animal. A beast that had to lock itself away from the people he loved, because they didn’t deserve him and he couldn’t force them to do more for him, and couldn’t stand to ask for what he wanted and be denied.

But he could get control back. He could find the smaller things that the betterlust wanted and keep feeding them. Drive and eat and maybe watching some fucking TV. Listen to music until he went deaf and work on Baby and stay the hell away from Her. She was dangerous to him. Not Her herself—She was awesome and cool and hot and Dean wanted Her on his face or lap or under his body, which was the problem—but the way the betterlust seemed to tunnel vision onto Her. The way Dean would just look at Her and his whole body would start to ache and boil and twist until he was talking to Her. And the more he spoke to Her the more he needed to touch her, and a little more control would slip, and eventually he’d just be unable to leave her side.

The distance was going to hurt Dean more than Her anyway. He’d figure out how to control this and immediately seek Her out when he did—She probably wouldn’t even notice he was avoiding Her—but until then he had to stay away. He’d agreed to this for things to be easier, not for himself, but for Her and Sam.

Staying away from Her would be easier for everyone. No complicated, emotional, chick flick conversations. No rejection. No showing Her that he wasn’t the strong, immovable man she was friends with and being tossed out onto the curb. Dean didn’t ever want to lose Her, this would make Her walk away—She wouldn’t want him, because she’d seen every single part of him and nobody would want them all—so Dean had to keep himself under control.

And it would be fine. Dean had control now, and he could feed the betterlust with so many other things, so this would be easy.

End Note: Answer to the last note - I am incapable of writing a short and sweet chapter, I had to make the whole mini-series an extra chapter, send help.

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lucidbee · 3 days ago

Text

Love Is A Science | Percy Jackson x Reader

Summary: You and Percy have always been best friends you just needed a little push for you to become more.

Word Count: 1.1k

Author Note: Did I write this in the car to eat dry turkey and complain to my family about what tariffs mean, yes. Did I get car sick from writing this also, yes. Not proofread. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Feel free to leave any requests.

—---—---—‐--—---—---—---—---—---

You and Percy had been friends ever since he came to Camp Half-Blood. You both were always next to each other; if you weren’t, you were talking about them somehow. Every camper could see that both of you were meant to be together. The teasing and questioning were endless. The Aphrodite cabin had a blast creating different scenarios and challenging each other on who could get you two together first. For years the both of you had been denying any claims that you were anything more than friends. Both of you believing that you were just really good friends, companions in battle.

But after the battle in Manhattan, things started to change, both of you becoming more aware of each other's presence, not wanting to be more than an arm's reach away from each other at all times. Something deeper had started to grow after all these years, something unspoken.

That's where you find yourself, both silently staring into the fire crackling on the beach. You’re wrapped in Percy’s arms, your back pressed against his chest. Before the battle, if anyone had asked, it would have been simply cuddling nothing more, than just a way for two friends to stay warm. However, now if you were asked the same question, you weren’t sure what you would say. It was different now, you didn’t just want to be around Percy anymore, you needed to be around him. You needed to know that he was safe, that you weren’t going to lose him. The possibility of losing Percy opened up feelings you had no idea you had for the son of Posideon.

You wanted to kiss him, to be held by him, for him to fight every battle with coming home to you as his only goal. You were hopelessly and undoubtedly in love with Percy Jackson. The only trouble was that you had no idea how to bring the topic up to him. You had spent years denying the claims that you were lovers, was it possible for him to have the same change of heart as you?

The fire crackled loudly filling any awkward silence. You knew you only had so much time to confess your feelings before curfew, if you didn’t do it today you knew you would talk yourself out of it every day to come.

“Percy?” You call out not taking your eyes off of the flames.

Percy, who is usually quick with his words, had been unusually quiet this whole time. Usually, he would be humming a song, or bouncing his knee to create any sort of noise. Today he looked completely lost in his thoughts.

“Percy?”

“A daughter of Aphrodite asked me out today,” Percy said looking down to look at you.

Shocked was the only way you could describe what you felt right now. Your heart started to race and your head started to spin, were you too late?

“W-what did you say?”

Percy sighed before saying “I told her I would think about it.”

More dread filled your body. “Do you like her?”

“Well no, but there is no harm in just one date right?”

Your head was still spinning but your heartbeat started to slow back down, you still had time.

“Do you like anyone?” You asked.

“There is this one girl, but I don't think she is interested.”

Your heart broke at that moment, you had waited too long. You could have had him years ago but now that you are about to lose him you have never wanted him more. Pain fills your body, and you find it more difficult to breathe.

“She would be dumb not to be interested in you, Percy.” You say tears filling your eyes.

“Y/n are you okay, did I do something?”

“No, it's what I did,” You say tears strolling down your face.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t tell you how much I love you and now it’s too late.”

You stand up wiping your tears, needing to separate yourself from Percy. Percy soon follows but keeps his distance.

“Y/n?”

“I should have told you so much sooner, but we both needed time to heal after the battle and I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same way,” You ramble off walking back and forth.

“Y/N,” Percy yells.

Your head swings to look at him, tears still streaming down your face. Percy steps closer taking your hands in his. Both of you keep eye contact the whole time as he allows you time to calm down.

“I love you too”

“You what?”

“The girl I was talking about was you, I love you.”

“This isn’t funny seafoam, you can’t joke about this, I’m barely holding myself together right now.”

“I’m not joking, in Manhattan, all I could keep thinking about was that I was terrified I was going to die before being able to kiss you.”

For what felt like an eternity you were finally able to breathe. The pain washed away into a feeling of overwhelming joy.

“Kiss me,” You say.

“What?”

“Kiss me, do you not want to anymore?”

“NO,” Percy yells.

Percy quickly takes you into his arms and presses his lips against yours. Your eyes quickly shut, wrapping your arms around Percy’s neck. It was everything you imagined and more, you could have stayed in the position for hours. That was until the sound of a horn being blown in the distance alerting you both that curfew was in a few minutes.

“I don’t want to let you go,” Percy said nuzzling himself into your neck.

“Then don’t.

Percy looks at you in a confused way, when you finally explain it to him.

“You’re all alone in your cabin, sneak me in.”

“You are brilliant,” Percy says giving you a light peck.

Percy quickly put out the fire that was still burning beside you, before taking your hand and rushing off of the beach and into cabin number three. You both leave grinning and completely absorbed in each other. Completely not noticing the daughter of Aphrodite and Athena hiding behind the bushes.

“Told you all they needed was a little push to figure out what they were missing out on,” Annabeth said.

“You are a genius and about to be the richest person in camp, we’ve been betting on them for the last four years,” Drew says walking back towards the Aphrodite cabin.

“What can I say love is a science, after all, let me know if you need any lessons.”

“Don’t push it, brainiac.”

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #percy jackson imagine

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cheyisagirlkisser · 6 hours ago

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pitfighter vi who has been fucking random hookers to let off some steam, then meets reader and assumes she’s a hooker too, reader gets offended and says she’s a virgin, vi takes her virginity 🤍

Vi is gonna be a scumbag in the beginning because I need her to be!! This request kinda made me laugh imagining my reader all pissed off about Vi’s dumbassery

Content: 2.2k words, face-riding (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), Vi slaps your tits, grinding on Vi’s lap, slight corruption/cherry chasing kink, Vi is a whore in this boo, most of this is from her perspective so she calls the brothel girls whores n stuff

The blonde's lips were parted, her eyes glossed over and her cheeks rosy. Her body was shaking with every thrust Vi delivered to her cunt. Over and over again, it wasn't even something Vi had to think about. She did this like it was a job, clocking in just to leave and never come back for her girls. Brothel girls, the ones on the streets, sluts who watch her fights, it's all game.

It's so fucking boring though.

All the same high-pitched moans and the same movements she gave to all of them. It started out to be addicting and distracted her enough from all of the feelings muddling her head. When she was with a girl, she felt oddly clear in the head. Same didn't go for the women who she had practically impaled on the Zaun community strap she had going around.

When the blonde finally came, she fell limp into the bed. Breathless, but not wrecked. Vi hadn't been wrecked in a long time.

She thought that the cycle would never get old: sleep half the day, train, go make some money as a pit fighter, get plastered, and find some hooker to lay with. Every piece of self-sabotage was like a guilty pleasure, but the more it branded her mind, her life, the more she just wasn't in for it anymore. That was, until she saw you.

It was another regular day for her. She woke up at 2 in the afternoon and sloppily punch her punching-bag over and over again until her brain shut off and her knuckles were even more bruised than yesterday.

This time, the fight didn't go so well.

Usually, Vi was able to get the majority of her anger out on whatever unfortunate, burly man was thrown into the ring with her. Comically enough, she lost. Her body was weak and she still had so many pent-up emotions. She didn't have the time to go searching the streets or bar for some girl to bring home; maybe the brothel would be worth it.

When she walked in, she was greeted with the sight of dim lights, red hues glowing from lamps to give the rooms a sensual appearance. Behind curtains were cries of pleasure small, mischievous giggles.

Vi approached the front desk and didn't waste any time - she wasn't in the mood to waste time. She needed to fuck some random prostitute and she didn't care who.

"Just give me whatever 50 coins is worth," she deadpanned, frisking out her coin bag before something caught her eye. In the corner of the room, sat on a sofa, was you.

You were unlike any prostitute she'd ever laid eyes upon. You looked sweet, delicate. You looked like a fucking flower, the softest complexion she had ever witnessed in a brothel. Your hair looked so soft and she for the first time in a while, she had a rush of adrenaline wondering what it'd be like to tug on your hair and break that soft, innocent face of yours.

What the hell were you doing working at a whore house?

"Hello..? Earth to Vi?" Babette sounded amused.

Vi didn't answer, she was in a fucking trance. This was the first time she actually felt an attraction to a girl working in a place like this. She quickly made her way over to you, sitting alone with the sweetest expression on your face.

"How much do you cost?" Jeez Vi, you're such a scumbag..

Your face quickly tilted up to face her, confusion plastering your soft features. "What do you mean?"

Vi held back the urge to snort. You were playing innocent, huh?

"I want a night with you. How much?"

At that, you quickly shook your head. "Oh, no..I'm just-"

"This act is so fucking adorable, holy shit. None of Babette's whores act all sweet like you, huh?" She let out a laugh at her own joke. "Bet you're one of the men's favorites."

Your nose crinkled at that, your lips parting not with arousal or breathlessness, but because you were..offended?

"Excuse you?! I'm not a prostitute! I'm here to bring something to a friend!" Your eyes didn't meet hers, "I don't..do that stuff."

Oh, shit..were you actually a virgin?

"O-Oh..wow, sorry.." Vi rubbed at her head, embarrassed, but something in her, something in her scumbag system blurted out the next words. Just the idea of taking a pretty, delicate girl's virginity sent blood pumping between her legs. God, she was such a pervert..

"Well, you don't have to actually be a prostitute, you know.." She trailed off, observing your reaction to her words.

You looked even more confused now. "To..what.."

"I'll still pay to if I can take you home with me."

"What?!" Your face was so cute, all scrunched up and clearly embarrassed. She was so excited to fuck that pissed off look you had going on away.

"C'mon, I'm sure you need the money. I need to release some stress, and I promise I'll try to go easy on you," she snorted, adding on, "we can pretend it's your honeymoon or something."

You paused at that.

Vi was right; you really did need the money. Rent was due soon and you only worked at some bar for scraps of coin. She had a lot of money from previous fights, and you could see the sheer amount in her little bag. You didn't want to spare your dignity to become a common whore, but what could you do?

"Okay."

Vi had you seated in her lap back in her bed, your body trembling like a leaf every time she planted another kiss on your neck. You were just so damn cute, all shy and sensitive to her lavish amount of attention. It made her pulse beat faster, and she was immediately hooked.

She forgot all about the other girls. No, she needed you right now.

"You're so soft, you know that..?" She whispered into your ear, lips brushing over the cartilage and making your breath hitch slightly. "And you smell like flowers and lotion, it's a surprise nobody has loved you like this."

Her voice so saccharine and greedy, her words so truthful and desperate, and her mouth so warm- it made you dizzy in the head, and you were already softly squirming in her lap for friction, your hands pulling at her jacket to bring her closer.

"Please, I need you...feels so good when I'm on you." You admitted, choking out a cute little squeak when she grasps at your hips and guides your motions. It is all so addicting, like you're discovering a whole world of pleasure you never had before, but this still isn't enough.

Vi was losing it. You were all cute, squealing and grinding into her lap, doing more than any brothel worker could do for her. Your breaths were coming out in pants and you sounded like the other girls did on their fourth orgasms. She wondered how you'd sound once she had you that far. Earlier, she was so pissed off and wanted to slam her cock into anything she could. Her aggression soon faded, simmering down to a softness, to a need to blow your mind with this experience rather than just fuck you and go.

"How 'bout you ride on my face for me?" She spoke against your neck, going back to leaving bruising marks onto your soft skin. When her lip pressed onto your pulse, she could feel how your heart was practically beating out of your chest.

"W-What?! What if I hurt you?" You're worried about hurting her? That is comical. You should've been worried about yourself. I mean, you were in bed about to get fucked by a butch pitfighter. Now that she knew you were needy for her, begging for her like a whore when you were a sweet virgin, she was going to treat you like a whore, she decided - as passionately as possible.

Vi laughed and laid back, tugging at your cute little shorts to get you out of them and onto her face, "I can handle huge men, I can handle a girl. Get on my face, right now."

You were quickly out of your clothes, in nothing but a cute patterned pair of socks. You hesitated a bit before finally letting yourself sink onto her-

Vi wasn't having it. With a quick grab of your hips, she lowered you onto her face completely and began to eat you out.

The way she devoured you was akin to how she ate right after she got out of prison; all messy and desperate, with an obvious sense of bliss mixed within. All this time, all the call-girls and prostitutes who couldn't do it for her, what she really needed was you.

You didn't moan like them when she lapped at your clit but rather tangled your fingers into her hair and whined. The way you made the sounds like you weren't just feeling good, but like you needed this just as much as her left her more messed up than she could ever even dream of being.

You were still so sensitive to all Vi was giving you, trying to squirm away for relief only to find yourself bound on top of her, her lips rubbing against your clit with a hunger that sent butterflies throughout your system, stomach and pussy clenching like never before.

“A-Aghh, Vi! Please, it’s too much…”

Vi only slipped her tongue into your hole and you jolted, violently trembling on her lap in a way she’d never seen before.

When your orgasm came, and it came fast but hard, your hips frantically ground against her face for more, crying out her name.

“Vi! Please, don’t stop…”

Every flutter of pleasure was like a blessing until it finally slowed down into nothing. When it was over, your knees almost buckled and you nearly crashed onto her head. Vi laughed, pulled you onto the bed so that she could settle on top of you.

" 'm gonna finger this sweet pussy, m'kay?"

Apparently she expected an answer and not just a whine, because she delivered a firm smack to your breast, not painful but hard enough to make you gasp.

"Tell me what I'm going to do to you." She was being so authoritative over you and didn't even know why. Why was she so obsessed with having you follow her every command?

"Y-You're gonna finger me.." You repeated back to her, voice shaky after your last orgasm.

"Yeah, that's right.. you really are just a flower, aren't you? All sweet 'n delicate." As she spoke, two fingers teased your dripping hole, causing you to grip at her bedsheets. Vi liked that, liked that you were so responsive. She wasn't able to get that reaction out of her other girls.

Finally, her fingers parted through your inner pussy lips and into you, making you gasp. It was an unfamiliar feeling; you weren't innocent, obviously touching yourself, but usually really only on the outside. You never could get yourself to cum, it felt too weird feeling around inside of yourself. Vi's touch, however, made you weak in the knees.

Where you lacked, she seemed to hit right exactly where you needed it. Deep inside your walls, you felt her fingers curl and rub at your g-spot and all you could do was tighten your grasp at Vi's poor bed and take everything she was giving you.

"Good girl. You take me so fuckin' well, don't you?" You whined at her praise, spurring her on to press more firmly against your walls, her fingers pumping so deeply your vision was unfocused, your breaths coming in pants rather than steady inhales and exhales.

Vi took the time to lavish attention onto your neck, alternating between bites and soothing laps at the area which only made you writhe more. "Feeling good? You wanna cum and make a mess for me?"

You nodded, your body practically shaking with the need to give her what she asked, to give yourself what you needed. "P-Please, make me cum!"

She did.

Your body shook underneath her, your hips bucking up into her touch as far as they could. It like all the tension in your body had been let go and all you could do was enjoy it. Sex with her was just so enjoyable, and the way she let you have your own pleasure and not tease you or giggle at the way your throat let choked out moans escape? God, you were so fucked. Literally and figuratively, too. You weren't supposed to lose your virginity like this, but how would you ever be able to resist her again? You were sure to become Vi's little fuck-toy, especially if she had her way.

Afterwards, Vi pulled you into the shower and just held you.

She had not held a girl in so long, and she used to think she would never again. It didn't interest her to care for someone, but you were so sweet and lovely, all she could think to do was take care of your body after giving it so much. She didn't wanna overwhelm you too much.

Fuck, why was she suddenly so caring? She'd grown up that way, sure; still, she thought she would stay away from actually loving someone after all the loss she felt.

For the first time in months, Vi would let a girl sleep in her bed tonight.

#vi x fem reader #cheyisagirlkissermailbox #vi smut #arcane #vi arcane

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anniflamma · 23 hours ago

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OK FINE same anon with the fanfic ask XD Thank u for your amazing Epic animatics and your beloved and daniel animatics, just literally everything. I hope u enjoy this little snippet thing

Darius, he finds, is a man of perplexing mind, body, and spirit. The same man that coldly executes his traitors is the same man with tears in his eyes when Daniel emerges from the den, that hauls him into an embrace so crushing Daniel thinks he’ll go to God that day anyway.

Darius is not a fool, but he wields honesty and sincerity as sharp as a blade, never steps away from his convictions while also allowing room for redefinition. He tears down all of Daniel’s misgivings and years of disillusionment and pain, to make room for hope in a future.

Darius is not a perfect man. But to Daniel, he is a miracle.

One that gives him many headaches.

“How has no one ever told you how breathtakingly beautiful you are?”

And one that reminds him he is far, far too old for this.

The other facet of Darius that gives Daniel constant pause and constant rumination, is how he uses his emotions. He is neither detached from them nor a slave to them. He carries them openly, not worn as an armor or exposed as a weakness, but instead carried like a tool, honed finely to use for any conquest to the answers he seeks.

So yes, Daniel is aware that while Darius means this compliment, he is goading Daniel for a specific response.

Daniel clears his throat—ignores that Darius poorly hides a smile behind his hand—and fans out a roll of parchment to look over the records with the king.

“I know I say it often.” Darius tilts his head to rest it in his fist. “Yet you always deflect and hide away from it. I cannot tell if this is aversion or if no one has ever paid you due compliment for how radiant you are. If it’s the former, I shall stop. If it’s the latter, then I must continue to rectify this at all opportunities.”

Usually Daniel would deflect, though not when Darius calls him out on it. He’s long grown out of blushing. So he rubs at the tension between his brows with a sigh.

“Don’t make such flagrant assumptions with no evidence to back them, my king,” Daniel replies, with his most level advisory tone he can muster. “I was a young man once. You are not the first.”

He doesn’t know why he entertains this, but he does know it makes his heart race when Darius’s eyes light up with intrigue. Lord help him.

“Oh? Pray tell, who?”

Daniel rolls his eyes up and slowly counts to three. “Just about all the royal courts I’ve served when not trying to kill me.”

Darius’s brows predictably raise. He is quiet for a moment, schooling his reaction that Daniel wishes he would read. “I see.”

His mouth turns, a fine line of contemplation, and then asks, “Were there advances?

Of course there were. He wonders where this will go, if Darius will rear jealousy or pride over just how many have made a point to break Daniel down into his features and not his heart.

“Dare I answer that?”

Darius’s mouth tightens. “Was their reciprocity in those advances?”

No.

Daniel looks away. “I remember being summoned here for taxes, King Darius.”

Darius hums softly.

“I apologize for overstepping. I never intended to open old wounds.”

He is so disarming, his ability to reach past ever defense and seek Daniel exactly for what he is. His sheer strength and respect for another’s state of being will always rattle him to the core. Daniel looks back to him.

“It’s alright.”

Darius studies him, unwilling to break from their eye-contact and Daniel finds himself accidentally caught in the thousands of ruminations flickering in those warm eyes.

Darius sighs and straightens up. He leans across the table, palm fanning out of the parchment so that his fingertips brush the side of Daniel’s palm.

“As it stands,” Darius murmurs. “I did not know you as a young man. Has anyone ever told you how you shine now?”

Daniel’s cheeks heat before he can remind them he is not a teenager anymore.

“I don’t need flattery.”

“I’m not.” Darius leans down closer and Daniel shivers at the suddenness of their shared body heat. “I also have no intention of advances.”

Darius plucks the parchment from the desk, and steps away from his space. Like the pull of gravity Daniel nearly follows the impossible force of him as he retreats.

He peeks over the paperwork with a glint like a sheer devil. Daniel’s mouth twitches. He bites.

“These bones are not made for initiation anymore,” Daniel supplies, and Darius’s eyes squint up from behind the scroll with a clear grin.

“I find your tongue more than persuasive enough.”

Oh, the lions were easier to tame.

Omg!! This is amazing!! And the amount of flirting is insane!

"Oh, the lions were easier to tame." AAAAAHH!

More pliz I'm hungry...

Also... WHY ARE YOU ANON! I WANNA KNOW WHEN YOU POSTING THE FULL FIC! >:(

#daniel/darius #fanfic #asks

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moodymisty · 1 day ago

Text

Author's note: What are you gonna do? Kinkshame me?

Relationship: Mortarion/Fem!Reader (to call it a relationship is kind of a stretch you only have his last name cause the vet paperwork requires it)

Warnings: NSFW, Nonnegotiable pet play (hampter), Degradation, Dehumanization, Kidnapping(?) Stockholm syndrome, Brief mention of reader having enough hair to put into a hair tie, Collar and leash, I dunno this is weird, This is totally unrelated to the Morty and his hot wife fic as much as his (future)wife would be down for being his pet, Inspired by @lemon-russ and her Mortarion pet fic series <3 and by inspired I mean like half of this fic is the exact fucking same cause i had trouble with the last half

The festering, bloated form of the Imperium was good for something, Mortarion thought.

Logistical tasks were nightmarish beyond all belief, shipments of requisitioned goods sent from place to place in the thousands if not millions. Many shipments disappeared outright; A planet now without food, a desperate front line without weapons. Efforts doomed purely on logistical error due to the sheer amount of traffic having to be handled.

It made slipping things between the cracks quite easy, however.

The box in Mortarion's hands is small by his standards, but for a human it would be quite sizable. They had offered to bring it to his quarters but he instantly refused, and Garro reiterated to the serfs that no one- including his own men- were to be near let alone in his quarters.

Not anymore.

When he enters the privacy of his chambers his shoulders relax slightly, and he hears the soft jingle of thin metal. It's quiet now- it used to be far louder but now that your cage is a bright display of plush blankets and toys, only weight on the exterior of the cage, and the metal of your collar, create any noise.

He smiles at the wide, excited look in your eyes, your fingers wrapped around the thin bars as you rise to your knees. The little dress you wear is still clean but a decent bit wrinkled, an array of lace and frills.

He'll have to change it; Along with a myriad of other chores he'll need to go after leaving you alone for so long.

"How are you, my little pet?"

You perk up and eagerly watch as he comes to let you out, but not too eagerly.

He doesn't like when you yelp and rattle the bars. He always wants you to be quiet above all else, especially during living hours.

"I have some new things for you, excited? Sit, and I'll show them to you."

You obediently listen legs curled to one side and nod, watching as he lowers himself to the floor on one knee. He grimaces and his bones crack and pop, but he manages. You look at him a bit worried, but you know he'll be fine.

You always love when he gets new things for you; New blankets, new pillows, new toys. Whenever things break he's always quick to get you new ones. It's so exciting to see what wonderful and colorful things he gets you from all of the places he's been, stuffing your life so full of plushness, soft fabrics and pastels.

The corner of his bedchambers your cage is in far more filled that it was when you'd first arrived, stuffed with spare things and little lights. If you were to just look at him, it would be almost funny; How lively and cute your home is in comparison to himself. His desk directly adjacent to you is solid wood, covered in burns, stains, and various bottles and jars.

In the moment it's nice, the free food, the blankets, the security; But when you think about it, its...

It's humiliating.

Degrading.

You feel less than human, though you suppose that's his intent; If anyone you knew ever saw you like this crawling around on all fours like a-

If any were alive.

Your planet was vicious, unforgiving. How you'd survived as long as you had was a miracle. To live there was to scavenge and fight for day to day survival, no thinking of the long term. You don't know if anyone you knew has even survived in few months you've been gone.

Has it been months?

Here, you're showered in plush toys and blankets, bowls and bowls of food. By a primarch no less. You were plucked from the sky by a being that from the sparse teachings of your forgotten planet was a man of incomprehensible power, a military of thousands at his disposal.

You even have a heating pad; Mortarion keeps the switch within your grasp after you wouldn't stop whining for him to turn it on.

For all intents and purposes, you're pampered. You are his pet, but you're safe, well taken care of, and loved.

It could be worse.

...could it?

You are still fully cognizant of that past life, before him. But why would you yearn for it's return- to a nightmare of struggle and fighting- when here, you're pampered and pet and fed until you're plump? You don't have to worry about anything. Your primarch does it all for you. Here you can sleep in a warm bed, eat your food and wait until master he returns and you can get some time out to stretch and play.

If you're very good, and he doesn't have any duties that take away his time, he'll let you sleep on his bed with him- not complaining when you crawl up to lay your head on his thigh.

He's been busy for a few days now, multiple nights you haven't seen him leaving you alone in the dark. It gets lonely, but you're patient- napping in your bed or playing with the myriad of toys he's given you. They keep you busy, but your little mind always wanders back to worrying if he's left you forever.

Reaching for the latch of your cage he undoes it and chuckles as you eagerly crawl to the entrance, almost visibly vibrating from excitement.

It's been days, and now he's going to let you out! You struggle to contain the excitement.

He opens the box and briefly shows you a peek of the things he's gotten you, before he gets distracted by something else.

"Your hair is such a mess. Come out."

He doesn't put a leash on you, letting you come out and stretch your legs a bit before getting back down. He sits at his desk, and motions for you to come by hitting his thigh.

When you do so, he begins to undo the tie in your hair and try to redo it. You wince a bit and move, earning a grunt of displeasure from him that turns into a mild coughing fit. Once he's finished coughing and clears his throat, he speaks at you.

"Stop wiggling."

You try to hold perfectly still as he fixes your hair, styling it the way he likes it. Sleeping in your bed for the past few days has made it messy, and you didn't have the tools to fix it yourself. Master does it for you anyways. He does it the way it should be, same with your clothes.

When he's almost done, he gestures for you to turn around so he can judge his own handiwork.

Something on his desk however begins making noise, and he looks in it's direction with no small amount of disdain. When he looks back at you, he grips your jaw and mushes your cheeks upward. It doesn't hurt, but it is a bit uncomfortable.

"Be quiet."

You nod- at least as best as you can.

He lets go of you and reaches to touch the device, and a voice starts talking.

"My primarch, Lord Fulgrim is attempting to vox you."

He lets out a loud sigh, clearing his throat once again. The dry scratchiness of it is palpable.

"Is it important?"

The man on the other side makes a contemplative noise, while Mortarion's rough skin brushes against the little hairs just in front of your ear. You tilt your head in the hopes he'll keep doing it.

"Lord Fulgrim did not specify when asked."

Mortarion pets you just a bit harder.

"...Let him through."

There's silence for a moment, before the voice acknowledges Mortarion and cuts away. A different voice fills the air a few moments later.

"Leaving Terra so soon Mortarion?"

The voice is smooth, melodic, and amused at Mortarion's expense. You continue to kneel silently between his legs. You lean against his calf a bit, lazily looking up at him. He looks down at you as he talks.

"I have many things that require my attention far more than your stupid parties, Fulgrim."

The voice on the other side chuckles, smooth and music-like.

"Fair enough. Guilliman and Lion were the same." He huffs before speaking again. "You think any of them would even miss my presence?

You perk up, but remain totally silent.

You missed him!

You missed every moment he was gone. Your cheek pushes against his leg harder in an attempt to show your thoughts without words, wrapping your arms around his calf, and he rewards you with a brush along your cheek. You smile happily.

"Probably not, though I could say that about more of the primarchs than just you." The voice quiets for a moment before speaking again. "Safe travels, Mortarion."

The voice is gone now and Mortarion returns his full focus to you, so you assume it's safe to make noise; Though you don't just in case.

"Good girl. You behaved." He looks at you. "Want a treat?"

A treat? Everything he gives you is so yummy, you nod and eagerly await whatever he's giving you. He gets up for a moment to retrieve it, before handing it to you.

You've tried taking food from his hands before, but he prefers if you just eat it from his fingers.

You take the treat, the yummy flavor hitting your tongue the moment your lips pull away from his fingers. There's a small something a bit hard in the middle, but you just chew through it. It doesn't effect the flavor in any noticeable way.

While you do, he latches your leash on the d-ring of your collar. You don't complain, just watching curiously as you chew your treat. He stands a few moments later, the leash wrapped around his hand.

"Come here."

You move to where he's going before the leash has a chance to snap taut, crawling onto his bed and onto his lap when he ushers you there.

"Did you miss me? It's been a few days."

You eagerly nod, hands gripping the fabric of his tunic. His lap is too big for you to straddle outright, so you straddle one of his thighs instead. When he raises that thigh, you instantly whimper at the feeling of pressure on your core. He sighs.

"Only a few days and you're already pent up again."

He sounds almost irritated, but he's quick to push around the fabric of your little dress to press his fingers against your cunt.

He toys and fiddles with your folds until they're nice and slick, whimpering in his grasp and trying to grind harder on his hand. Once he's done playing with you, he undoes the ties of his trousers to pull out his cock. It's half hard,

He leans back, pushing you until you almost straddle his hips and his cock lays rising between your thighs.

"Go on, pet."

You're so beyond pent up, even the toys he gives you weren't enough in the days he was busy. So it isn't long of grinding your sloppy cunt along his shaft before you're desperately trying to shove it inside of you, your master watching keenly as you move about awkwardly.

After only a minute or so of sliding up and down his cock do you feel a shudder run through you as a small orgasm rides up your spine, whining and biting your lip. Just the act of slipping him inside of you and feeling the stretch was so much, sinking into your tight heat. Your hands grip the material of his clothes tightly as he coughs, trying to hold them in enough to not be too loud for you.

"Poor pet, do you need more things to keep you busy while I'm gone?"

He mumbles something under his breath, something about an implant, but you're too busy trying to fuck yourself on him to really understand what he's mumbling about through the wet, sloppy noises.

It probably isn't stuff you should care about anyways. He handles all the complicated stuff, you just enjoy the things he gives you.

He tugs on the leash once, and you feel the fabric dig into the nape of your neck as you're pulled forward. You're beginning to tire, hips aching and sore. You slow down and grind down on him, groaning between your breaths.

"Do I spoil you too much? Are you getting lazy?"

No! You aren't lazy, just tired. Your mouth hangs slightly agape open mouth breathing, as he watches you.

"Keep going, pet."

You try and gather enough strength to continue, feeling his cock shift inside of you. His groans are louder and he accidentally begins pulling on your leash as he tries to steady himself with his arms, pulling you a bit forward as he finishes inside of you. The warmth and the feeling of his hips bucking up into you and jostling you around is what pulls another orgasm from you, whining over the sound of his groans.

After a few moments he slowly pulls from you, and you clench around nothing at the hollow ache, and feel some of his cum slip from you and dribble onto his cock.

He's quiet for a moment, before he sighs. You perk up expectantly waiting for what he has to say.

"You can sleep out tonight."

Your excitement is explosive, stretching your back with a squeak he finds endearingly cute. He needs to clean your cage he says, after a few days of not letting you out, the blankets are wrinkled and food crumbs are dusted around. Some of your toys need to be refilled with whatever treat was inside of them or some of another variety cleaned entirely, a thought that fills you with joy.

He lays a blanket on the foot of his bed, one of yours, and you move to sit on it and watch as he goes to change his clothes for sleep. When he returns and climbs into his bed, you watch eagerly before crawling closer.

You curl up next to his left thigh, laying your cheek against it. You look up at him and see the hollowness of his features.

He's so ghostly, yet he treats you so well. You've tasted and seen things you never knew existed.

Life...

It could be worse.

You could be scavenging for scraps- now you're curled up on your master's bed.

He reaches down and brushes his hand across the top of your head a few times, petting you. You push into his hand in a way that makes him chuckle.

"Good girl."

#im not tagging this with anything cause like. dear lord #mywriting

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morganski-19 · 2 days ago

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Chills Right to the Marrow part 53

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 50, part 51, part 52

“You’re moving?” Dustin yells louder than he should in the middle of Family Video.

Steve just shrugs, like he didn’t drop the news of the century. “My parents are selling the house. Kinda means I have to move.”

“What he means,” Robin interrupts, slamming the new box of tapes onto the counter, “is that they are kicking him out.”

“They are not kicking me out.” Steve takes the first few tapes off the top of the box and starts loading the cart. “They’ve been talking about selling the house for years now, the only reason they haven’t is because I still lived there.”

“You still live there now,” Robin presses. “What changed?”

Steve sighs. Ignoring the question by bringing the mostly empty cart into one of the aisles. Refilling the shelves.

“Well?”

Another sigh. “They just, we had a deal that if I didn’t go to college in a year, that they weren’t going to support me anymore. Including the house. It’s been a year. Time’s up.”

Dustin really hates Steve’s parents. He’s never said it out loud, it’s been the silent thought in his mind. But it was true. He hated them. He hated them without ever needing to meet them in person. The soulless eyes in the one family portrait told him everything.

His mother would never kick him out for societal failures. She loved him for everything he did. Mistakes and all. There wasn’t anything he could do to make that change. Even if she knew all he’s been through, all he’s seen and done, he’d still never lose that love.

Steve, from what Dustin’s heard, had to earn it. It was titles on sports teams and cheaply made trophies. Medals and accolades. Something to brag about at business meetings. Something physical to pin their pride.

When it all stopped, so did their love. He became a leech that lived despite them. Now instead of lines upon lines of achievement to brag about, it was all about the son who failed to keep up with his father’s shadow.

Even when Steve is so much more than their rudimentary required achievements. When asked what Steve has done, who Steve is, awards aren’t in Dustin’s top ten. Steve was so much more than they could even pretend to appreciate. He was so much better than them.

“So making you pay rent the past year wasn’t enough?” Robin’s anger echoes off the walls of the store. Thank God there weren’t any customers. “Now they get to kick you out with nothing.”

Pay rent? Dustin didn’t know about that.

“I don’t have nothing,” Steve tries to defend. But the fight turns to defeat in his shoulders. “I can take anything but the furniture.”

How many times has Steve paid without Dustin even thinking about it? He had thought it wasn’t a problem for Steve. He thought that all the money Steve made was extra. His parents still paying for the house, his groceries. Providing for their child.

That was all Steve? He’s been paying them, paying for himself, for a year and Dustin didn’t notice.

“You don’t have a roof, Steve.” Robin radiates an anger that Steve doesn’t even begin to have. He just seems so resigned.

“Could you just drop it, Robin.” It’s the highest Steve’s raised his voice this entire conversation. Veering on yelling. “There is nothing I can do to change it. Nothing.”

Robin pinches her mouth shut. Angrily slamming tapes onto her cart. Each one with a dull thump.

Steve was moving.

“I know,” Eddie spits when Dustin asks him about it. “Got the call about it yesterday. Didn’t even know they were selling the place.”

Wayne walks in on his way out to work. “You still pissed about that?”

“I’m pissed for a lot of reasons, kinda hard not to be.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Eddie clenches his jaw, fists clenching and unclenching. “I just wish he told me. We promised to be more open about stuff that was bothering us, and he didn’t.”

Dustin was following, but there was more to this conversation than he knew. Something that also explains the closeness that Steve and Eddie have had in the past few weeks.

He could assume. With what he’s heard, when he definitely was not supposed to be listening, it sounded like Steve might have had a thing for Eddie. Which grosses Dustin out for so many different reasons, but it’s fine. He can’t control who Steve dates, it’s just going to happen.

The thing was, he didn’t want to assume. He already felt weird about it when the school gossip was about who was dating just because they were close. It was another thing to speculate if people were gay. It just wasn’t something Dusitn felt right doing.

Even if he did suspect. His curiosity getting the better of him, and making him wonder. But the wonder was useless because he can’t just ask. Asking was wrong, and to the wrong person, would be dangerous. For reasons Dustin doesn’t fully understand.

So when Steve comes home and Eddie immediately gets off the couch to bug him. Dustin just shuts his brain off and forces himself to have some respect. If they were something, if Dustin’s stupid brain made correct assumptions, he was just going to wait for them to tell him. If they wanted to, they would.

He just hoped he made it clear enough that he would be safe to tell. He’d still love them if they actually murdered someone this time. That had to be enough to show them this wouldn’t matter. Wouldn’t it?

“I’m not talking about this right now,” Steve says while Dusting is slipping on his shoes. “I already got yelled at by Robin , I don’t need to hear the same from you.”

“How do you know it would be the same?” Eddie insists, following Steve to the stairs. Dustin didn’t notice before, but he’s not walking with his cane. Just himself. “I could be bringing it up in a completely different context.”

Steve sighs, crossing his arms. “Don’t care. I already heard enough about it today.”

He starts to climb up the stairs, Eddie continuing to shout after him.

“You know, you can’t hide upstairs anymore. My physical therapist said I can start thinking about doing stairs again. And I’m thinking of trying that right now.”

Eddie, not as hesitantly as Dustin would want him to, starts to climb the stairs. Slower than he has in the past, but he does it. Follows Steve into his bedroom, like what he just did wasn’t a major accomplishment.

“Jesus Christ this wallpaper is terrible,” Dustin can make out right before the door closes.

Wayne grabs his keys, nodding at the door. “Come on, I’ll drop you off on my way to work.”

“How long has he been able to do that?” Dustin can’t help but ask.

“I guess right now,” Wayne explains, pulling out of the drive. “He’s been stepping on some blocks as part of his exercises, but I didn’t think he was ready to do a whole staircase yet.”

He shakes his head. “No, I meant walking around without a cane. I thought he was going to use it all the time.”

“Yes and no. Yes, he will need to use a cane, and his crutches, on days when he needs it. Sometimes they can help with the pain, sometimes he needs them for the balance. But other days, especially if it’s a space he’s comfortable with, he can walk around without it. Really just depends on how he’s feeling that day.”

He was getting better. Again. Dustin thought he hit the peak of his progress, but he didn’t. There was still room to grow. To gain more strength. To find a way to act, and be, the way he was back at the beginning of the year.

Dustin forgot how it felt to look at Eddie walking around without any assistance, mainly because it felt like nothing at all. Before, it was just the norm. Now Eddie’s sucked into the world where the norm changes every day.

He’s grateful that things are getting better. He’s grateful that things are starting to get back to normal. But after having a reminder as big as the fourth, it’s hard to imagine that life can ever go back to perfectly normal.

But maybe, just maybe, if Eddie can adapt, if Eddie can continue to return back to the state of peace, Dustin can too.

Note: Here starts the last Dustin pov chapter. I keep saying these, but I can't believe it's almost over. I'm trying to get all of the parts of this fic out before the end of the year, so I'm starting to write the Steve and Eddie pov chapters. You guys are not ready for those.

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

#chills right to the marrow fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #dustin henderson #dustin pov #steve harrington #robin buckley #wayne munson #eddie munson #steddie

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lexxiie · 2 days ago

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WHEN THEIR PARTNER LOVES TO DANCE

Fandom: My hero academia Featuring: shigaraki, hawks, dabi, overhaul x fem reader

SHIGARAKI

He knows you love to dance ever since he met you, but, as you may imagine, that's not really his field of expertise. When you go to events where dancing is common, you usually stay sat. You do it because you want to, and you don't wish to leave him alone, still, he feels bad about it.

A week ago, he asked you to teach him. He said he'd like to dance at least a bit with you when necessary, which obviously had you jumping with joy.

That's what led you here. A week later, on your living room, attempting to learn the basics. This had been the funniest experience for the both of you, at this point you didn't even care if he learned or not, the dancing lessons where enough of a reward.

You laughed loud as he stumped on your foot for the third time, and he pretended to be angry. "Stop!" You yelled while pushing him away from you, however, his feet got caught with the rug and he fell over you. Both of your bodies hit the floor shortly after and minutes went by before you could stop laughing. "I'm done, I don't want to do this anymore." He said, now annoyed, but you could tell he was just embarrassed. "Does that mean you don't like practicing with me?" You asked, making the saddest face you could. He couldn't resist it. "I do! I like it, It's just that I'm really bad at this and-" You cut his desperate babbling off with a kiss. Needless to say, the dancing sessions went on for longer.

HAWKS

Oh Hawks loves dancing as well, and he's fairly decent at it, too. He actually first met you at a party to commemorate heroes. You were there because of a friend and he was one of the stars of the event.

He was talking to a couple of his friends when all of a sudden, he stopped listening to everything they were saying when the most beautiful person he'd ever seen crossed his eyes. You were dancing with your friend and you looked absolutely gorgeous, he couldn't remember the last time he had been so attracted to someone, but here you were.

He had to approach you, and he did. He introduced himself (which wasn't needed) "I saw you from afar, and I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't ask you to dance at least one song with me." He said this as he offered you his hand, however, you looked back at your friend who hadn't come here with anyone else. "Thank you, but I'm good here," you responded with a kind smile, but before the hero could say anything else, your friend kicked you subtly, but hard. "Ouch!" You exclaimed as you turned to her, her face begging you to go with him. "Fine, one song won't make any harm." You told the hero. His face lightened with pure joy, and you definitely did not dance just one song. If he wasn't in love with you before, he totally was by the time the party was over.

Taking this precedent into account, dancing with you brings him great memories, so he loves it as much as you do.

DABI

He's not a dancer. It's not that he's terrible at it, he can surprisingly fend for himself on that field, though he isn't great either. The thing here is that he feels a bit ridiculous when he dances, at least not in public. Unless he's having a big melodramatic moment.

In private, however... He's the kind of man who whines about everything, but he's never ever complained when you approach him to dance in the comfort of your home. He actually likes it that way, he loves having you in his arms, and he enjoys doing anything that you love. Even if he pretends he doesn't.

And he loves to pretend that he's annoyed when you dance, as you do it quite often. Just like now. Dancing all over the kitchen with a bowl full of pancakes batter on your hands. "You'll drop that." He says as he rolls his eyes at you. "Of course not! I know what I'm doing!" You respond with a big smile on your face. "Come on, don't be such a killjoy, you should join me." He looks at you like you just said the dumbest thing ever, which only encourages you to put the bowl down and force your boyfriend to dance with you. He shows resistance at first, but you win him over quite quickly. The frown he had at first, now replaced by a subtle smile. It's just so hard to say no to you.

OVERHAUL

I mean... Define dancer. He isn't great at a club, but he sure is a good dancing partner at a wedding. Slow dancing is more his thing.

He doesn't love it, but he doesn't hate it either. He feels indifferent towards dancing overall, but he does not feel indifferent towards you at all. He'll comply with whatever makes you happy.

Kai had a very busy week. Your birthday was coming and he really wanted to throw you a nice party for your closest friends to attend, the thing is, he struggles a bit to keep it simple, so what was meant to be a tiny reunion, turned into a somewhat big event. He just felt like you deserve everything he can give you.

It had been a lot of work, but he was more than happy to do it. Especially now that he had you in his arms, with a beautiful dress, and the dancing floor under your feet. "Thank you so much, Kai." You say to him before laying a kiss on his lips. "Happy birthday, love. Anything for you." He responds, as he pulls away and places a strand of hair behind your ear. He would've never imagined himself doing this for anyone else, he thinks as he turns you around. He must really love you, right?

MASTERLIST

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loveanddeepdick · 4 hours ago

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do you have anymore obsessive!geto headcannons 👀 👀

WHY YES I DO ANON

obsessive!geto who crashes tf out when he sees the location of your necklace frozen at home when you should be at work. he checks ur phone’s location and there isn’t an exact spot. fuck your spotty work wifi.

obsessive!geto who paces your shared apartment which turns into his eyes locking into tunnel vision and ransacking the place after ten minutes. he looked for any signs that you were unhappy or wanted to leave. he knew you’d never cheat bur the thought of it alone made him stumble to the bathroom and throw up.

obsessive!geto who’s eyes catch on a shiny piece of jewelry behind your skincare. he finds the small locket on the corner of the bathroom counter behind your face wash, like it’s been discarded. you took it off and left it? did he do something? was he not enough? he snatched it, picking up his phone to call you when a notification from you came in.

obsessive!geto who didn’t notice how long he’d been in that headstate until got the notification that you had arrived from from a small app on both of your phones. your keys jingled and the door slowly opened as you walked in.

“sugu!! im b—“

you couldn’t finish your sentence or take your shoes off when geto tackled you in a hug. his breath was uneven, sweat sticking from his forehead sticking onto his tar black hair. he was wordless, an almost eerie silence. that’s the kind of man he is.

obsessive!geto who silently turns you around and moves your hair, his hands shaking as he clipped the necklace back on.

“oh! i’m glad you found it, i lost it after i took a shower,” you smiled back at him, his purple eyes looked like an echo chamber. his eyebrow quirked up at your comment.

“for… got? you forgot it?”

“uhh.. yeah.. but i’m glad you found it, suguru,” you turned back around, fixing your hair back in place.

“oh.. yeah,” he chuckled nervously. of course you forgot it. silly you. he’d always been the one to find your lost items. what would you do without him?

obsessive!geto who let you ride him for once, letting you take control. it was obvious you weren’t, with him bucking his hips up and holding you in place as you meekly jumped up and down on his cock.

he loved the view though, your face twisting in pleasure as his cock stood straight up into you, your tits bouncing in unison, and his necklace. the one you oh so cherished from him. the locket bounced on top of your tits, the perfect view honestly.

he’d gotten so worried today, he’s ought to install a camera in it now too! i mean, he’s got to keep an eye on you. god knows who’s out there harassing you at work or on the way home. after all, he knows what’s best for you.

not proofread i just love geto😵‍💫😵‍💫

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader smut #rina thinking 📝#obsessive!geto

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some-stars · 1 day ago

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logan/wade rough sex with wade crying!!!

okay, so obviously you know the context for this but for everyone else: this is a canon-divergence AU sequel to a fic of mine that I haven't finished yet. all you need to know is that Logan and Wade hooked up during Origins, fell for each other and ran off together, and also they are both fucked up but wade is very fucked up.

content notes: consensual sex but it's fucked up, face slapping, painful sex, possessiveness, masochism, praise, spit, kind of sweet despite all that. i'm high so i might have forgotten something, read at your own risk. i don't think i did tho!

The only thing that stops Logan from slamming Wade up against the wall the second the last body drops is the urgent need for them to get clear of the scene before the cops show up. As it is, they make it about half a mile before he snaps and drags Wade down an alley, the simmering anger in his skull boiling over at the way Wade laughs when he does it. It's clear Wade's still riding the high from the fight, and when his back hits the bricks he grins like crazy.

"All that killing got you so hot and bothered, huh, cupcake?" He bats his eyelashes like a goddamn cartoon. "You just can't wait till we get home to take it out on me? I'm not complaining, I love a nice nasty back alley fuck. Something about getting reamed five feet from a dumpster really tickles the old pickle."

Logan would love to be able to say that his hand moves without him meaning to move it, that he slaps Wade across the face on a blind, furious impulse. But that would be a lie. He chooses to do it.

He kisses Wade right after, because the flash of hurt and fear that crosses his face is too much to look at. Too much to think about, how right it feels to put it there. Wade melts into the kiss just like he always does, permanently desperate for affection no matter how much of it Logan gives him. Logan holds his face with one hand--the side he hit, hot and flushed with blood--and kisses Wade like he's claiming him, deep and demanding. When Logan takes his lower lip between his teeth Wade tenses and whimpers, anticipating pain, but Logan doesn't break the skin. He's already smelled enough of Wade's blood tonight, enough for a fucking lifetime.

He pulls back just enough to look Wade in the eye. "What the fuck were you thinking back there?"

The slap shook him but he’s already recovering, raising his eyebrows and starting to smirk. "Well, you know how it is when that battle haze comes over you. It’s all just flow state and instinct. And a dash of horny, once things really get going--"

Logan gives him a shake, maybe harder than he means to. It shuts him up, though, so maybe just hard enough. "You still don’t give a shit if you get killed," he says, low and dangerous. "Is that why you wanted to get into this mercenary gig? You got bored of not nearly fucking dying all the time?"

"I didn’t--"

"You got shot!"

"Grazed," Wade snaps, starting to struggle against Logan’s bruising grip. "I got lightly grazed, all those guys had terrible aim, it doesn’t even hurt anymore--"

This time when Logan kisses him he can't make himself hold back. The taste of blood sizzles on his tongue like lightning, sweet and hot, and the high hurt noise his teeth tear from Wade makes it hard to find any regret.

"You don't get to do that shit anymore," Logan growls. "You don't get to throw away what's mine."

It slides home as smooth as a skeleton key, unlocking Wade like he knew it would. His hips jerk forward and his head falls back against the bricks, already babbling an apology as he offers up his throat. Logan rewards him with a hand fisted tight in his hair to pull his head back even farther, and sharp teeth clamped down hard around the thick cord of muscle that runs from neck to shoulder. Not tearing him open, now, because he doesn't want that. He doesn't even want the blood, really, not when he's in his right mind. It's just that Wade still wants so badly to give it to him.

Logan hurts him like that until the apologies turn into begging, until his cock is as hard as Wade's where they're grinding together. "Please," Wade repeats, choked and thick.

"Yeah? You want something?" Logan kisses him again before he can answer, just long enough to feel Wade open up for him. It's not enough, though. Three fingers in his mouth feels closer to what he wants, and Wade sucks on them gratefully, moaning. Like any way Logan wants to be inside him is the best thing he's ever felt. He doesn't close his eyes, either, even though Logan knows he wants to, how hard it is for Wade to let Logan watch him like this. But Logan asked him for it, once. Before he knew just how careful he had to be about asking Wade to give him things.

"You want me to show you how you're mine?" Logan asks, and Wade nods and mumbles around the fingers in his mouth, incoherent and desperately affirmative. Logan pulls his fingers out and wipes them on Wade's cheek, leaving a thick smear of wet that glitters in the faint, distant glow of the streetlights. Wade shivers, finally squeezing his eyes shut, but offers no other protest.

(Not that he would. Logan's seen him come from being spat on, which was so nightmarishly arousing to watch that he hasn't tried it again since.)

When Wade had finally realized Logan was serious about refusing to fuck him dry, he'd become obsessive about stashing lube everywhere, including the pockets of his work clothes. Logan fishes the packet out now, and when Wade realizes what he's reaching for he almost trips over his own feet turning around so fast. With his cheek pressed to the wall, eyes closed, back arched to present himself, he looks ripped from the kind of magazine that gets sold in brown paper wrapping. The kind you have to ask for, at very specific stores. He looks obscene, and Logan hasn't even gotten his pants down yet.

It's the work of a moment to shove them down around his knees and get his own belt and fly open just enough so he can use the scant handful of lube on himself. Wade shudders at the wet sound, his back curving into an even deeper arch. A cat in heat, desperate to be put down. No matter how sweet Logan is to him it's always this waiting underneath, this shape that other hands bent Wade into long before Logan ever met him.

He loves Wade like this, because there isn't any way he doesn't love Wade; no possible shape of him that Logan wouldn't want exactly this much.

Logan pulls him open and forces his way in too fast, offering not even a breath for Wade's body to welcome him the way it always does, surely would if Logan gave him the chance, but he doesn't and Wade can't entirely swallow the little scream that slips out. His whole back tenses as his body struggles on instinct to get away from what's hurting it, but there's nowhere to go with the wall at his face and Logan boxing him in everywhere else.

Logan leans in close as he settles into a quick hard pace. Already Wade's breathing fast and scared, his hands balled into useless fists, all fear and misery, forgetting why he wanted this so fucking bad.

"You need someone to hurt you," he rasps into Wade's ear, "you don't pull that kind of dumb shit. You come to me."

Another harsh snap of his hips makes Wade's breath hitch. For a moment he goes even more tense and tight beneath Logan, and a trembling little moan slides past his lips. Logan thinks about stopping; doesn't.

"Come on, Wade," he murmurs. He licks the hollow behind Wade's ear. The slick of sweat that dissolves into his tongue tastes like honey. "Be good for me."

More magic words. Wade sobs and the panicky all-over clench of him eases a little, and a few moments later a little more. Logan's next thrust feels more like fucking, less like cruelty. Enough less, at least.

He smells Wade's tears before he sees them. "Good boy," Logan tells him, which makes him cry harder, but he thanks Logan anyway. Can't seem to stop thanking him, even as he sobs, and it's almost a shocked kind of sound, the way he cries, like a kid with their first broken arm.

God, it feels so fucking good. He's never going to be able to make Wade stop giving him everything because he likes it so much, he fucking loves it, every single time.

Wade comes almost as soon as Logan gets his hand around him, and Logan fills his ear with stupid praise as he works him through it, how he's so good, so tight, so sweet, so good for Logan, so fucking good to him, better than anybody should be.

Logan doesn't last long either after that, way too worked up do anything but give into it. Wade shakes as Logan fills him, his sobs slowing to sniffles and hitching damp breaths. Logan wraps his arms around him and nuzzles down into his neck, breathing him in deep, and for a minute they stay like that.

Logan waits for his cock to go soft and lets himself slip out as gently as he can. As soon as he's free Wade spins in his arms and grabs his face and kisses him, demanding. It's nothing Logan doesn't want to give him, so he does, all of it, everything Wade wants. Even when Wade breaks off and looks away, swallowing roughly, and says, "Tell me again."

"That you're mine?" Logan watches his eyes close. "You know you are."

"Yeah," Wade sighs. When he opens his eyes again he looks tender, exhausted. Soft. "So take me home already, daddy. It's past my bedtime."

"I fucking hate that daddy shit," Logan mutters. Wade falls into step beside him as he starts back down the street, so close they could be sharing an umbrella, stays soft and close and quiet the whole way home.

#deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #origins poolverine #wanksgiving 2024 #smubbles #listen. i kept it under 2k. for me that's deserving of the -bble suffix

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