#and i like it when they cry. i like it best when they both laugh and cry. eeaao intent

[ponderingmoonlight]

jjk men cheering you up

Pairings: gojo x fem!reader; geto x fem!reader; choso x fem!reader; sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,3k

Warnings: this is my first fic in months so I hope you enjoy. Will post more from now on🫶

Gojo Satoru

Gojo knows something is off the moment he sees you. Your usual spark is dimmer, and even though you try to play it off, with that stern expression and eyes hidden behind sunglasses, he isn’t buying it.

So, naturally, he decides to fix it the best way he knows how - by being an absolute menace.

“Helloooo, earth to my favorite person!”

He dramatically waves a hand in front of your face, leaning in way too close for your liking. Honestly, this is the last thing you need today after getting shat on by literally everyone crossing your path. Why does everything have to go wrong. And more specifically, why are you always involved?

His sunglasses are perched on his head, letting those ridiculous blue eyes stare right through your soul.

You sigh.

“Gojo-”

“Bzzzt! Wrong answer. It’s Satoru, your beloved, devastatingly handsome best friend-slash-mentor-slash-personal-jester-slash-lover? I don’t know about that last part, we didn’t get specific on that.”

He pokes your cheek, grinning.

“Now tell me what’s wrong, or I’m gonna start listing my best qualities. Out loud. In public.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the small smile forming. How does he do this? It’s like all the frustration leaves you bit by bit the second this jerk starts talking. What were you even mad about in the first place? He gasps.

“Was that a smile?! Oh, I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

Before you can protest, he grabs your wrist and teleports you to a café downtown. The next thing you know, he’s ordering every single dessert on the menu, grinning like a proud child while you stare at him like an idiot.

“Nothing a little sugar can’t fix,” he comments, plopping down across from you.

“And if it doesn’t work, don’t worry - I’ll just have to be even more��annoying until you laugh for real. Or we can take this to my bed-”

“Can you just stop?”, you interrupt him immediately, cheeks turning bright pink.

You shake your head, but as he starts dramatically fake-crying about his "invisible pain," you find yourself laughing anyway.

What a jerk. And yet, what a blessing.

Geto Suguru

Geto doesn’t say anything when he notices your exhaustion. Sure the elders took out their anger and frustration on you again and sent you through the country hunting day and night for curses. You don’t deserve to go through this. Not you, one of the kindest people he knows. He simply sits beside you, offering his presence instead of demanding explanations while all you’re able to do is staring in the distance.

All that horror, that restless night…When is this going to end? When will you have a life again?

After a while, he quietly lifts up his voice.

“Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, and he doesn’t push. Suguru never does. Instead, he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear while gently allowing his arm to rest over your exhausted shoulders. It’s like he’s your savior, your ambrosia after every stressful mission.  

“Alright,” he says.

“Then how about a walk? Fresh air might help.”

You agree, and soon you’re strolling through a quiet park, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow. Geto is calm, steady - he doesn’t try to force conversation, just lets the silence sit comfortably between you both while his hand gently holds onto yours.

When you sigh, he finally speaks.

“You don’t have to carry everything alone, you know.”

His voice is soft, understanding, his touch so reassuring that you feel like bursting out in tears any moment.

“I’ll listen whenever you’re ready.”

The sincerity in his eyes almost undoes you, but you manage a nod. Geto doesn’t need you to thank him. He simply reaches out, squeezing your shoulder gently before letting go.

“Wait”, you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“What is it, (y/n)?”

“Can you…can you maybe just…hold me?”, you mutter.

Suddenly you feel out of place. What are you even doing here next to that guy all your friends crush over? Did you really just ask him to hug you?

“I mean I-“

“I’d honestly love to”, he replies before you’re able to explain yourself.

The next second, you find yourself devoured between his arms, lost in his immaterial touch, his arms light as a feather and yet so demanding against your skin that you feel whole again.

For the first time in months, you find yourself relaxing. Not in a bath, not in a sauna, but in the arms of a man you learned to love more than any obstacle could ever hurt you.

Choso

Choso notices the way you drag your feet, the way your shoulders slump. His instincts scream at him to fix it, but he isn’t sure how. To be honest, he still isn’t good at reading human emotions. Yuji told him a few things here and there, but what if you feel uncomfortable by him talking to you? What if you get mad, scream at him? His chest tightens the way he hates it most.

But he has to do something. There’s no way he’ll allow you to potentially feel bad.

So he does the only thing he knows - he stays close.

You’re curled up on the couch when he silently walks over, placing a blanket over your shoulders. When you glance up at him, he merely nods, sitting down beside you. He doesn’t say anything, but his presence is solid, grounding.

To be honest, you’re on the brink of crying. It feels like the whole world is against you with everyone screaming, lying and ditching on you. When will this finally stop? Will you ever be happy again? This life just feels like a nightmare you can’t wake up from, I grave you cannot escape.

After a moment, he shifts.

“You should rest,” he murmurs.

“I’ll stay here.”

There’s something so simple, so unwavering about his words that the tightness in your chest loosens just a little. You lean against him without thinking, and when he doesn’t move away, you let yourself relax.

He smells surprisingly good for the old man he is, his body soft and yet hard against your touch. Without thinking twice, you lower you head to his chest and start screaming, crying, bawling your eyes out.

“You don’t have to hide from me”, he simply comments, his hand caressing your hair and making sure it doesn’t stick to your soaked face.

“I’ll always be here. And I’ll kill everyone who makes you feel this way.”

You can’t help but chuckle while wiping your nose in the most unladylike manner.

“You being here is more than enough.”

Sukuna

Sukuna scoffs when he sees you sulking, immediately springing up from his throne.

“Tch. What’s with that pathetic face?”

You glare at him. Honestly, he’s the last thing you need right now. Not when your life is falling apart already, not when you have 99 problems to deal with – him not included.

“Thanks, asshole. That really helps.”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

“What, you expect me to coddle you? Please.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. No, you can’t take this right now. This isn’t the time for Sukuna’s shit talk.

“Then leave me alone.”

But he doesn’t. Oh, he never does.

Instead, he clicks his tongue and suddenly pulls you into his lap, making you yelp. His clawed hand rests lazily against your head, almost like… like he’s patting you?

“You’re annoying when you mope,” he grumbles, but his fingers brush against your scalp in slow, careful strokes.

“So stop it already.”

You blink, stunned.

“Are you…are you comforting me?”

Sukuna clicks his tongue.

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

You can’t help it. You laugh despite feeling like shit, and his scowl deepens. But he doesn’t shove you away, doesn’t stop his absentminded gestures of comfort.

Maybe he won’t say it outright, but you get the message.

Even the King of Curses doesn’t like seeing you sad.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr

[astars-things]

for lando x hughes reader au: you take lando to the hughes bowl and he's sitting there completely clueless.

When I told Lando I was taking him to a hockey game, he was excited—until he realized he had absolutely no clue what was going on.

"Wait, so both your brothers are playing against each other?" he asked as we walked into the arena.

"Yep," I grinned. "Jack and Luke on the Devils, Quinn on the Canucks. It’s the Hughes bowl tonight."

As soon as we took our seats, Lando was already confused. “So, uh… what’s the goal here?” he asked, watching as the players skated around in warmups.

I laughed. “Score goals, babe.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that part. But, like, what are the rules? What’s offside? How many guys are on the ice at once?”

Oh boy. I had my work cut out for me.

“Okay,” I started, pointing toward the ice. “Each team has six players on the ice—five skaters and one goalie. The goal is to get the puck into the net. If you cross the blue line before the puck does, that’s offside.”

Lando nodded slowly, like he was trying to process everything. “Right, right… so it’s like track limits in F1?”

I blinked. “Uh… sure? But also no. I’ll explain as we go.”

The game started, and the crowd roared to life. I could see Jack and Luke out there, already chirping Quinn. Lando jumped when a big hit was thrown against the boards in front of us.

“Wait, they can just… do that?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Yep. As long as it’s clean, they can hit each other all they want.”

Lando let out a low whistle. “F1 drivers would cry if we had to deal with that.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah, you guys are divas compared to hockey players.”

He shook his head, still baffled. "If I did that in F1, I’d be banned for life."

I laughed as I focused back on the game. Jack had the puck now, weaving his way through defenders, and I elbowed Lando excitedly. "Watch Jack, he's gonna—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Quinn stepped up and stole the puck cleanly, sending Jack stumbling slightly. Lando gasped like he just witnessed a crime.

"That was his own brother!"

"Yeah, well, sibling loyalty doesn’t exist on the ice," I grinned. "Quinn’s the enemy tonight."

Lando let out an exaggerated sigh, slumping back in his seat. "This sport is brutal."

I smirked, knowing he hadn’t seen anything yet.

Midway through the second period, Luke threw a massive hit on one of Quinn’s teammates, and Lando physically jumped in his seat. "Did he just—was that—what the hell?"

"Calm down, babe," I teased. "It's all part of the game."

"And nobody's getting arrested?" he asked, genuinely bewildered.

"Nope."

He ran a hand through his curls and shook his head. "This is insane."

The game continued with Lando throwing out more confused comments. "Why are they fighting?" "Why is that guy going into a tiny penalty box like he's in timeout?" "Wait, they just skate off for a line change? No pit stops?"

I was doing my best to keep up with his endless questions while also enjoying the game, but when Jack finally scored, I grabbed Lando’s arm and yanked him up with me as I cheered.

"Wait, was that Jack?!"

"YES!" I yelled.

Lando laughed at my excitement but still looked slightly overwhelmed by everything happening around him. "I feel like I need a rulebook and a therapist after this."

By the end of the game, the Devils won 4-2, and Jack and Luke had bragging rights over Quinn for the night. After the game, we’re waiting for my brothers when a reporter spots Lando and decides to interview him. The poor guy still looks overwhelmed.

"So, Lando, this was your first NHL game. What did you think?"

Lando exhales dramatically. "Honestly, I have no idea what just happened. I feel like I just watched a war on ice."

The reporter laughs. "Did you have a team you were cheering for?"

Lando glances at me before grinning. "Well, my girlfriend made it pretty clear I had to cheer for Jack and Luke, so I did. But Quinn was insane—I thought he was going to murder someone."

I shake my head as Lando continues rambling about how he still doesn’t understand how half the game is legal. He may be clueless about hockey, but at least now, he’s a fan.

[deansbeer]

until the end ・ TOM WELLING. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ library

୨୧ synopsis. you prepare to marry tom, facing nerves and excitement, while jensen helps him navigate his own wedding day jitters.

୨୧ warning(s). fluff | fem!reader | wedding anxiety | mild language | best friend!jensen | a heartfelt best man speech | light friendly banter | wedding games (?) | mentions of whiskey (but nothing too extreme) | no use of Y/N.

୨୧ kari notes. i had a dream the night before about him and i can't recall what even happened :( but all i do remember is just seeing his face, like the one in the photo <3 he's so cutesy !!!

୨୧ word count. 2.3k

tom sat in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrest as the distant hum of conversation filled the dressing room. he hadn't seen you all morning, and the absence of your presence weighed on him more than he cared to admit. the simple comfort of you—your scent, your voice, the warmth of your touch—was missing, leaving him restless.

his back ached from sitting too long, his body stiff after hours of preparations. the elegant suit he wore felt both like a privilege and a burden, the fabric pressing against him as he fidgeted, trying to find a comfortable position.

“jesus, man, you look like you're about to throw up."

tom turned his head to see jensen, his best man, standing in the doorway with a smirk. dressed in a sleek black suit, tie slightly loosened, jensen carried two glasses of whiskey—one of which he promptly handed to tom.

he took the glass but didn't drink, just stared at the amber liquid. "i don't feel like throwing up," he muttered, though the slight tremor in his hands betrayed him.

jensen raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink. "could've fooled me. you've been sitting in that chair looking like a lost puppy."

tom sighed, leaning back. "i haven't seen her all day. feels weird."

jensen chuckled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "that's because, for once in your life, you're not in control, dude. she's busy getting all done up while you sit here, looking pretty and trying not to panic."

"i'm not panicking,” tom argued, but jensen just gave him a knowing look.

"sure. and i don't have a supernatural convention next weekend."

tom rolled his eyes, finally taking a sip of the whiskey. the warmth spread through his chest, loosening some of the tension in his muscles. he savored the momentary relief, but it did little to quell the storm of emotions brewing inside him.

jensen sat down across from him, leaning forward, his expression turning serious. "look, man, i get it. this is huge. but you already won. you got the girl. you're just making it official now."

tom exhaled, rubbing his hands together. "that's the thing. what if i mess it up?"

jensen snorted. "dude, you've been with her for how long? you think one wedding is gonna change anything?"

tom hesitated, then shook his head. "no… i don't know. i just want it to be perfect."

jensen grinned. "it will be. because she loves you, dumbass."

tom huffed a small laugh, finally relaxing a little. jensen's unwavering confidence in him helped ease some of the knots in his stomach.

"now," jensen said, standing up and straightening his tie, "let's get you out there, before you start crying on me or something."

tom shot him a look. "i'm not gonna cry."

jensen smirked. "uh-huh. we'll see about that when she walks down the aisle."

tom shook his head, but deep down, he knew jensen was probably right. the thought of seeing you in your wedding dress made his heart race, a mix of excitement and trepidation swirling within him.

the morning had been a blur of soft laughter, gentle touches, and the rustling of silk and lace. you were surrounded by your bridesmaids, each one fluttering around you like butterflies, adjusting your hair, perfecting your makeup, and making sure everything was flawless. despite the whirlwind of preparations, your mind was solely on tom.

you hadn't seen him all morning, and it felt strange not to have him there beside you. he was your anchor, your home, your safe place. the anticipation of standing before him and exchanging vows sent shivers down your spine.

a soft knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts.

"come in," you called, your heart racing with excitement.

the door cracked open, and to your surprise, jensen peeked his head in. "hope i'm not breaking any ancient wedding traditions by showing up," he said, stepping inside. "but i come bearing a peace offering."

you laughed as he held up a letter—tom’s handwriting scrawled across the front.

"he made me deliver it," jensen explained, handing it to you. "said he 'needed' to talk to you, but, you know, rules and all."

your heart clenched as you carefully unfolded the note, your breath hitching in your throat.

baby… i know i'm not supposed to see you yet, but i needed to tell you this before you walk down the aisle. i love you. i've loved you from the moment i met you, and i will love you for the rest of my life. no matter what happens today, tomorrow, or fifty years from now—you are my always. see you soon, my love.

you pressed the letter to your chest, blinking back tears. the words resonated deep within you, filling you with warmth and affection.

jensen watched you with an amused expression. "yep. he's gonna cry."

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "no, he is not."

"wanna bet?" he grinned. "i'll put fifty bucks on it right now. he's already a mess."

you chuckled, but deep down, you knew jensen was probably right. the thought of tom's reaction when he saw you was enough to make your heart swell.

as the minutes ticked by, the atmosphere shifted. the music started, a soft melody filling the air, and the moment you had been waiting for had arrived.

everyone rose from their seats.

and tom—oh, tom—he went completely still.

jensen, standing beside him at the altar, smirked as he heard the sharp intake of breath from his best friend.

"told you," jensen whispered, barely containing his amusement.

tom ignored him. because there you were.

as you walked slowly down the aisle, tom’s throat tightened, his vision blurring slightly. you were breathtaking. ethereal. his.

the fabric of your dress flowed around you like a dream, the intricate details catching the light and shimmering with every step. the world around you faded as you locked eyes with tom, his expression a mixture of awe and vulnerability.

jensen discreetly reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, nudging tom with his elbow. "you good, dude?"

tom exhaled shakily, eyes never leaving you. "yeah."

jensen smirked. "told you you'd cry."

as you reached the altar, the officiant began the ceremony, but all tom could focus on was you. the way your hair fell gracefully over your shoulders, the glimmer of happiness in your eyes, the soft smile playing on your lips—it was everything he had ever dreamed of and more.

i can't believe this is happening, he thought, his heart racing. the officiant’s words were mere background noise as he absorbed the moment, the reality of marrying you sinking in with every heartbeat.

after a few heartfelt words, it was time for the vows. you turned to him, your eyes sparkling with love as you spoke from the heart.

"tom," you began, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "from the moment i met you, i knew you were special. you've been my best friend, my confidant, and my rock. our relationship has blossomed into something beautiful, and i can't imagine my life without you. today, i vow to always stand by your side, no matter what life throws our way."

he felt the tears prick at his eyes, his heart swelling with every word. you continued, your voice unwavering, "i promise to be your support, your cheerleader, and your partner-in-crime. i promise to laugh with you, cry with you, and share every moment of joy and heartache. you are my best friend, my lover, and my soulmate."

with each vow you made, tom felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders. he was home.

when it was his turn, he took a deep breath, his voice thick with emotion. "(___) you are my everything. i've loved you from the moment we met, and i will love you for the rest of my life. you are my anchor, my light in the dark, and i promise to cherish you always."

the officiant smiled, clearly moved by the sincerity of your vows. the guests watched in rapt attention, and tom could feel the weight of their love and support surrounding you both.

"now, by the power vested in me, i pronounce you husband and wife," the officiant declared. "you may now kiss the bride."

tom stepped forward, his heart racing as he cupped your face in his hands. as your lips met, the world melted away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. the kiss was soft at first, an exploration filled with love and promise, before deepening into something more passionate.

after you pulled away, the applause erupted around you, a symphony of joy ringing in your ears. tom couldn't help but smile, the sight of you radiant in your wedding dress filling him with a sense of completeness.

the reception was a whirlwind of laughter and celebration. glasses clinked, music filled the air, and everyone was on their feet, dancing and reveling in the happiness that surrounded you both.

jensen stood up, tapping his glass with a fork, commanding attention. "alright, alright, listen up, people. i've got some words to say about this big guy right here."

tom groaned, burying his face in his hands. "oh, god."

jensen grinned, the mischievous glint in his eye impossible to miss. "relax, man. i'll keep it PG-13… mostly." he cleared his throat dramatically, the room quieting down in anticipation. "i've known tom for a long time now. and let me tell you, this dude? he's a legend. he's superman, for crying out loud. but today? today, he's just a guy who got incredibly, ridiculously lucky."

the crowd erupted in laughter, and tom shook his head with a chuckle, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pride.

jensen turned to you, his tone shifting to sincerity. "seriously, i don't know how you put up with him, but i'm glad you do. because i've never seen him happier than when he's with you. and if there's anyone who deserves a lifetime of happiness, it's him."

tom swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as emotion welled up. jensen's words struck a chord, and he felt the heat of tears pooling in his eyes.

"so let's raise our glasses," jensen continued, raising his glass of chardonnay. "to tom and his beautiful wife. may your love be as epic as smallville, as unbreakable as superman himself, and as legendary as this wedding."

"cheers!" the crowd erupted, raising their glasses with enthusiasm.

tom, now definitely blinking back tears, turned to you with a soft smile. "i love you," he whispered, leaning in close, his voice barely audible over the cheers.

"i love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with joy.

you both shared another kiss, the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you wrapped in your love. the evening unfolded like a beautiful dream, filled with dancing, laughter, and the warmth of family and friends celebrating your union.

tom pulled you close during the first dance, his arms securely around your waist as you swayed to the music. the world outside faded away, and all that mattered was this moment—the two of you, together, forever.

"i can't believe we're actually married," you said, gazing up at him, your heart racing.

"believe it," he replied, his voice low and filled with emotion. "you're mine now, and i'm never letting go."

the words hung in the air, a promise that resonated deep within you. you moved together, the rhythm of the music matched the heartbeat of your love, each beat echoing the journey you had taken to get to this moment.

as the night wore on, laughter echoed around the room. friends and family shared stories, memories, and heartfelt toasts, each one a testament to the love you and tom had cultivated over the years. the atmosphere was electric, a perfect blend of joy and celebration that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

jensen, ever the entertainer, took to the floor again, his antics bringing laughter and smiles from everyone. "alright, folks! next up, we have a little game for the newlyweds," he declared, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "let's see how well they really know each other!"

tom and you exchanged glances, amusement dancing in your eyes.

"bring it on," you said confidently, nudging tom playfully.

the game involved answering questions about each other, and as the rounds progressed, the room filled with laughter as you both revealed little quirks and secrets that made your relationship unique.

"okay, what's his favorite movie?" jensen asked, looking between you and tom.

"easy. mutiny on the bounty," you answered without hesitation.

tom grinned, nodding in approval. "and (___)'s is the craft," he replied, and the room filled with cheers.

the questions continued, each one drawing out laughter and teasing from the guests. but amidst the fun, tom felt a deep sense of gratitude swell within him.

when the night began to wound down, you found yourselves standing on the balcony, the soft glow of fairy lights surrounding you, the stars twinkling like diamonds in the night sky.

"can you believe we did it?" you asked, leaning against the railing, your heart full.

tom turned to you, his expression softening. "i can. and i wouldn't change a thing. this is exactly where i'm meant to be."

you smiled, warmth spreading through you. "i love you, tom. you make me so incredibly happy."

he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. "i love you too, baby. more than i can ever put into words. you're my everything."

as you stood together, the world around you faded into silence, leaving only the two of you in your perfect moment. the wedding had been a beautiful celebration, but it was the love you shared—strong, unwavering—that truly made it unforgettable.

you stared up at him, your heart brimming with joy, you knew this was just the beginning of your forever.

EXTRAS. @titsout4jackles @honeyryewhiskey @daylighted @st4rfckerz ⎯⎯ if you wanna be tagged in any tom or clark content, do let me know !!! i love pookie wookie sm :(

[likea-silhouette]

Tied Together - ex bf!Harry Styles blurb

cw: mention of past relationship

word count: 2k

summary: Ever since you broke things off with Harry, you felt a massive feeling of guilt and hatred towards yourself for allowing such a trivial thing to come between the both of you. Now, all you had were your daydreams of him. What happens, in the present day, when you attend one of Harry's concerts and mix your daydreams with the reality of him being in front of you again. Inspired by the song Someone Else & Jesus by Ricky Manning

Sometimes I have this fantasy.

That one day I’ll get a knock on my door and it’s you with your arms outstretched and the widest, most infectious grin on your face.

I’d run into your arms with an exasperated cry of your name as I bury myself in your scent that envelopes your clothed chest and makes my stomach flutter. I feel as if I’m home.

It’s almost like I can smell you now, but that would be impossible amongst the thousands of sweaty, screaming bodies that are currently admiring you on a stage for the world to see and adore. 

As I briefly come back to reality, I smile to myself, watching you from the side of the stage as you do what you were clearly born to do with your life for the millions who know you’re a dime a dozen.

However, in my head, it’s just you, me, and the love that we once tended to religiously. In my mind, you’d whisper to me in that all too familiar accent, “Sorry, that I'm dropping in without warning, I've just missed you so much,” and I’d smile as if I knew this was always how it was meant to be with us. We were always meant to be so deeply tied together, yet in the real world, we couldn’t have been further apart. I shake my head and allow my ears to take in the screams and loud music that my brain had somehow filtered out in order to bring me to this space inside of my head where I went way more often than I’d like to admit. I wonder if he ever thinks of me as I think of him in a daydream that reflects our past. How he used to play me all of his new songs or tell me about his coffee order from the local coffee shop that day. The smallest things are the ones that bear the greatest weight on my heart because I crave them so so deeply, yet they are so fucking far away. That’s why I have this space inside my head that preserves a version of me and Harry that I would crawl on my hands and knees to obtain again in the real world. However, in my fantasy, I wouldn’t have to crawl to revive our relationship. Instead, we’d both have a proper laugh as we saw how inevitable it is that we would be back together again on my doorstep, because why wouldn’t it be? We are irrevocably chemical after all. Tied by a string that can’t be cut or stomped on. But instead, I left. I told Harry I couldn’t do this anymore - the touring, the months and months apart from one another. It was eating me up from the inside out and I thought that this was what he and I needed. If I just completely cut down our love that had grown into the prettiest maple tree, then eventually I would be okay. That I would heal and so would he. Except it never happened. Sure, things got easier, but I never stopped loving him no matter how many bodies I tried to use to replace him with. Now, Harry and I were strangers and he had been intertwined with other partners, and I was happy for him for that. Truthfully, I was. Harry was completely broken when I broke off our relationship. My best friend and Harry’s sister Gemma kept me in tune with how he was doing, but only because every time I talked to her, which was often, I would insist on asking if he was okay. Years later, I still did this very thing. That right there should’ve told me that what I did was the biggest regret I would make in my entire life. Now look at him - he’s touring the world again and making music that matures with every piece he creates. He’s dressing in a way that shows off how inevitably comfortable he is with himself and I couldn’t have wished more for him…except that he does this with me still by his side. I’m selfish, I know. But it’s foolish, isn’t it? I’m going to my 9-5 job and eating take-out in front of my TV on Friday nights while he’s doing all of this with his life. I am the one who lost out on so fucking much and, the fact that I did this on my own accord is the hardest pill I will ever have to swallow for the rest of my life. Especially when Harry was innocent in the matter, having done absolutely nothing wrong as a partner.

Regardless, I couldn’t be more proud of H for finding himself and those who love him - even if it means others inhabiting his heart like I wanted to again. He deserved love more than anyone because he gives it with everything he has and finding that genuine of a human is rare, yet what did I do with it? I broke it. All because I was young and I thought that long-distance relationships could never work. All because my anxieties ate away at me as I thought of the worst-case scenarios for what or who he was doing while out on tour in my absence. I placed my own insecurities on him and that isn’t fair to either of us. Now, I’m hurting in the process and I hurt him too. How stupid could I have been?

Suddenly, Harry’s voice rang through the entire arena as he addressed the crowd in between songs. Just the tone of his voice sent chills down my arms and spine and brought me, once again, out of my daydream. I watched as he interacted with those in the crowd - they didn’t know how lucky they had it. Being able to hold his attention and be graced with the things running through his mind that eventually left his mouth was such a privilege. I can’t believe I let that very thing slide through my fingers all because of my own stupidity. Harry never wanted me to break up with him. He pleaded with me on the street saying, “We can work this out. I’ll quit. I’ll do whatever it takes. I can’t lose you”, but I couldn’t let him give up his dream and love in life just because it was something I, at the time, couldn’t get accustomed to. This is why I kept telling him as a way to pacify his tears, “This is for the best for both of us” - except I failed to mention that I’m no psychic, merely an insecure girl who allowed her thoughts to weigh more heavily in her chest than the love she had with him. I wish I could talk to that girl again. Warn her that he was it for her. That he was and would be everything she would ever need. Tell her that their love was strong enough to get through anything and that her mind was the one creating wars, not Harry.

Suddenly, I felt Gemma’s elbow poking into my rib just before she whispered in my ear, “He just looked at you.” Quickly, maybe a little too quickly, my eyes moved in Harry’s direction, only to find him just beginning to sing the next song with his eyes very much closed and his hands shaking as they gripped the microphone stand. “I promise you, babe. He looked right at you. Nearly looked like he pissed himself.” There I was again - missing those vital moments in life because I couldn’t get out of the make-believe inside my head.

But-god damn-in my head, it was everything I wanted and more. How could I resist? In my head, Harry watches me do the most mindless of tasks with a smile on his face and when I’d catch him, as I did every time, I’d give his knee a playful tap. He’d respond by wrapping his arms around me and whispering sweet nothings and thanks that said how happy he was that we figured it out and finally found each other once again and that this time it would be different because we were older and wiser. That’s how love is supposed to go, isn’t it? If you truly love someone, then you always find them again. Yet, why did it feel impossible to find Harry again?

I’d like to give up this hide-and-seek chase with love and instead have a kid running around our shared flat who looks like Harry and has his deep emerald eyes that remind me of him every time I look at the being we created together. But instead, I left all because I allowed my brain to tell me what was fact and fiction. Suddenly, the whiff of Harry’s scent filled my nostrils yet again, except this time it was extremely strong. It almost felt real.

I rapidly blinked my eyes and allowed the reality in front of me to come into crystal clear view. What I saw, made my mouth hang agape. Not even three feet away from me - there he was in the flesh, not just in my memories. Harry was shaking hands with a few crew members in all black as he expressed his gratitude while wiping a white towel through his sweat-dampened hair. He had clearly just finished his show and was readying himself back into his regular, non-stage life. And then his eyes met mine. “Told you he saw you”, Gemma muffled from the corner of her mouth at me as she watched the interaction of past lovers now meeting in the present. I couldn’t help the smile that graced my lips the closer he got because this was real. He was so fucking real. It wasn’t one of my far-fetched daydreaming spells, it was Harry, standing directly in front of me with a heaving chest as he tried to regain his composure after putting on a show.

Soon, he was standing directly in front of me with a matching mouth that also hung slightly open. “Hi,” I said after several seconds of the both of us staring at each other with goddamn identical stars in our eyes and wide-spread smiles. At first, Harry didn’t say anything. His eyes simply searched along my face. Taking it in - deciphering if this was reality or one of his own daydreams that he always thought to be fictitious and ridiculous to even be picturing. Yet, here you were. Here you both were. Suddenly, Harry’s arms wrapped around you and you didn’t care about the fact that the sweat from his clothes was quickly morphing into the sweat on both of your clothes. You didn’t care that it had been years and years of pain and missing him because right now, you had him where you had been craving him the most - in your arms. Everything felt worth it just for this moment, whether it lasted for just tonight or for the rest of eternity.

Harry squeezed me even tighter in his arms until eventually releasing but still maintaining a gentle touch as he let our fingertips just briefly kiss one another.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much. You have no idea.”

I shook my head because, actually- “I think I do. I’ve missed you too Harry.”

From that moment I felt something that I hadn’t felt in a long time when it came to Harry and I. It was positive and even excitement.

It was hope.

[pinkcelestialstar]

A fluffly one maybe? bada married with y/n and her kids :3

This is cute >0<

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪The Blossoming mess 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

Fluff. Slight smut(just a pinch of it)

"Lily!!! Rose!! No!! Give it back here!" You say as you chase Lily and Rose around the house as they run around with your books since you refused to give them more ice-cream.

Bada sighs amusedly as she enters the living room, observing the chaotic scene unfold. She picks up a cookie from the table and approaches the kids with a smile. "Hey hey hey, give Mommy her book back, okay?" she says calmly yet with authority, trying to reason with the kids.

Lily looks at you guilty then tosses your book back at you. Rose sees this and laughs mischievously then throws herself on the couch. "Mama!" she shouts innocently. "Lily stole my crayons!" She whines dramatically to get Lily in trouble. Lily hears this and shouts back.

"No I didn't! You're always lying Rose!" Lily shouts then pulls Rose's hair. Rose yells and hits Lily. You watch as the two girls start throwing pillows at each other and rolling on the carpet, fighting like cats and dogs.

You whine seeing all the chaos "I wanna cry"

Bada chuckles and pulls you into a hug, shushing you softly. "Aww baby don't cry, they're just being siblings." She says soothingly, kissing your forehead gently. She then looks at the girls and yells. "Lily! Rose! Bed! Now!"

Handling 2 six-year-olds is not easy but is manageable with Bada. She knows when to be a strict parent and when to be a fun one.

Both girls stop their pillow fight and look up at Bada with wide eyes, knowing that tone. They get up slowly and start dragging their feet upstairs, mumbling under their breath. "This is so unfair..." Lily complains. "Yeah... We were having fun..." Rose adds.

You pout as you look up at Bada, "They always just listen to you"

Bada chuckles at your pouting expression, ruffling your hair gently. "Well, someone has to be the strict parent, right?" She chuckles, sitting down beside you on the couch. She can see you sulking and finds it amusing.

"Do you know how cute you look when you pout?" Bada asks softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "You know what else?" She laughs softly. You hum, waiting for her response. She smirks devilishly.

"No, no, no, I know where this is going! Not in the broad daylight" You put your finger on her lips.

She playfully nips at your finger with a deep chuckle, pulling your hand away from her mouth. "Says who?" Her voice drops to a seductive whisper. "Those two are already in bed..." She shifts closer to you on the couch. "And you know how..."

You put your palm on her mouth, blushing furiously, stopping her from saying anything more.

She mumbles against your palm, the vibrations of her words making your heart race. "Nighttime is the best time for cuddling and... other activities..." She tries to whisper, but it's muffled by your hand. "And we're alone now..."

"But it's not night!"

Her eyes twinkle mischievously as she gently bites your palm playfully. "You're being too cute for your own good... Are you seriously going to use daylight as an excuse?" She pulls your hand away from her mouth completely and pulls you closer. "Besides..." Her voice becomes softer.

"No one's home except us... they'll sleep through anything." She reassures you, her face getting closer. "And I need my wife..." She leans in and captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss, her arms wrapping around you tightly. "Now stop being shy and let's..."

You blush and slap her arm but give in any way.

She chuckles at your shyness and captures your mouth again, pushing you back on the couch. She climbs on top of you, between your legs. You wrap your legs around her instinctively, moaning softly as she grinds against you slowly. "Baby..."

You whimper in response.

"Shhh..." She whispers against your lips, then nuzzles your neck. "We need to be quiet okay?" She pants softly, moves your shirt to the side gently and trailing kisses down your neck and collarbone. "Can you be a good girl and stay quiet?"

You are breathless as you nod- but you quickly sense footsteps towards the living room, and you push Bada away as she dramatically falls on the floor while Lily enters the living room with a pillow in hand.

Lily enters the room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She sees Bada on the floor and you sitting up on the couch, looking startled. "What's going on?" She asks, her voice still groggy with sleep. "Why is Mama on the floor?"

"Ah..ah...Mama was ...she was checking if the carpet's clean"

Lily looks suspiciously between you and Bada, tilting her head to the side. "Mama was checking if the carpet's clean?" She repeats skeptically, sitting down next to you on the couch and resting her pillow on her lap. "That's weird..."

You cough hiding your flusteredness, "Now, what happened, why is Lily not asleep yet, it's time for your afternoon nap"

Lily pouts at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "I can't sleep...I had a bad dream." She whines, snuggling closer to you on the couch. "And now Mama's on the floor...it's weird."

"Don't worry about Mama; you know she can be weird sometimes," you tease Bada to which she pouts. "You can sleep with Mommy; she will hold you to sleep and not let bad dreams get to you~" you cuddle Lily in your arms.

Bada chuckles softly as she picks herself up off the floor, brushing off her clothes. She gives you a playful glare before settling down on the couch on Lily's other side. "Looks like someone's stolen my cuddle buddy." She jokes, booping Lily gently on the nose.

Lily snuggles closer to you, resting her head on your chest and wrapping her arms around you tightly. Bada wraps her arms around both of you, nuzzling Lily's hair. "Mama wants to cuddle too."

You laugh. Hearing all the laughter from the living room, Rose walks out of her room, too, sleepy; as she sees everyone cuddle, she jumps in, too.

Rose crawls into your lap, curling up and resting her head on your shoulder. Bada sighs happily, wrapping her arms around all three of you. "Looks like we're having a family cuddle party." She murmurs contentedly, kissing Lily's and Rose's heads gently.

You pout "my kissy?"

All three of them giggle at your pout, making you smile despite yourself. Bada moves closer, pressing a firm kiss to your lips while both Lily and Rose give you little pecks on the cheeks.

"There... that's fair, right?" Bada asks amused.

You smile wide, nodding, "Yes!!"

The four of you remain cuddled up together on the couch, watching TV quietly and occasionally stealing kisses from each other. As the afternoon wears on, Lily and Rose start to drift back to sleep, snuggled in your lap and against your chest. "They always fall asleep like this..."

"Little monsters are so peaceful when they're asleep" you chuckle looking at your daughters' asleep faces.

Bada laughs softly, watching Lily's peaceful expression and Rose's slightly open mouth. "They look like angels when they're asleep."

You look up at Bada with loving eyes "Love you my babies' mama"

Bada's heart melts at your words, a warm smile spreading across her face. She leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers softly. "Love you too, my wonderful wife and mother of my angels." She squeezes you gently, careful not to disturb the sleeping girls.

She pecks your cheek and whispers in your ears, "We still have some unfinished business. I think I should put more babies in you~" she says teasingly, you pinch her arm as you whisper yell.

"Don't talk like that when the kids are around!!!"

She pouts like a puppy, pretending to be innocent but you can see the smile she's trying to hold in. You chuckle and flick her forehead. "yeah yeah strap-on gets me pregnant"

She chuckles at your response, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, it definitely will. I'll make sure to use it after putting the girls to bed." She whispers back, giving your cheek a gentle kiss.

You blush hard, "get lost" you whisper.

Bada laughs softly, nuzzling your cheek before gently extracting herself from the cuddle pile. She stands up and picks up the two sleeping girls, carrying them upstairs to put them to bed. "I'll be back soon, my love. Don't fall asleep without me."

[sweetiechenle]

hiiii! can I request a where reader sleeps over at mark but he wakes with a morning wood for the first time and there both shy and embarrassed cs they’ve never really been intimate like that. js something cute it can lead to smut if you want :))

pairing: mark x afab!reader

w.c: 1.8k

warnings: mdni 18+, established relationship, spending the night for the first time, mark is so sweet oh my god i will cry, reader is shy but bold, pet names, soft mark, he is so in love, mentions of spiderman because well yeah its mark, blowjob, oral (m receiving), vocal mark, implied smut for the future idk, thank you for requesting!! requests are always open ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

you steadily awoke, blinking your eyes open rapidly, trying to adjust to the sunlight filtering through the window. hot breath graced your hair, tickling your ear, making you squirm slightly in your boyfriends hold. last night, mark convinced you to stay the night, going as far as to admit that the second spiderman movie was superior to the third one (tom hollands spiderman, of course). you never stayed the night at his apartment, the opportunity never arising but the clouds had been crying all day, rain pelting anything in sight. mark refused to let you go home in these conditions, so when you asked him for a ride home instead of walking to the subway station, he suggested you just stay the night.

after bickering back and forth of 'i don't want to intrude' and 'i want you to's', you agreed after mark got onto his knees stating 'what if i said that far from home is the best spiderman movie?' he was giving you a pout with pleading eyes that shone under the light. they were wide and sparkling, it was almost comical but cute and convincing.

'even better than no way home?' you quirked your brow in amusement at the situation unfolding before you. mark was so dramatic and undeniably funny, one of the many reasons why you love him.

he dropped his head in defeat, sighing, 'yes... even better than no way home' voicing his downfall.

after dinner, you both watched a movie tangled together on the couch, eyes growing heavy from the antics of the day. mark turned the tv off and suggested you both head to bed, you promptly asked for a pillow and blanket, staying seated on the couch as he stood up. tilting his head to the side he laughed, 'what?'

your cheeks grew hot in embarrassment, did you say something wrong? 'i thought we were going to bed... i didn't bring a pillow and blanket with me...' staring down at your hands in your lap, you picked at your hangnails.

'baby, you are not sleeping on the couch' mark chuckled, insane that you even insinuated the idea of it. he lightly grabbed your hand, guiding you to stand up with him, 'if you don't feel comfortable sharing a bed, i will sleep on the couch, there's no way you are' he stated, still holding onto your hand.

you nodded, 'i didn't know, we can share a bed' you'd been in his bedroom countless times, he would be working on his laptop while you'd laid on his bed scrolling through your phone, or he would play you a song on his guitar sitting on his bed, back against the headboard as you listened while in his desk chair. so, this should be no different.

he offered you some old clothes, pajama pants that fit you around the waist ever so slightly, but the hems going over your feet. a shirt that was five years old and dared to expose your shoulder from how big it was. it was perfect. cozy, soft, and smelled like mark.

he brought you to his bathroom, he insisted on washing your face and applied way too much moisturizer to your skin, which prompted him to take some off your face and put it on his. it seemed like he had everything you needed, an extra toothbrush, phone charger, and slippers.

once you were finished, he brought you to his bed and opened the sheets for you, gesturing for you to climb in first, getting the spot next to the wall while he took the one closest to the door. he clicked the lamp off, and mark shimmied closer to you, slowly wrapping his arms around you asking 'is this okay?'

you glanced up at him, features more defined under the moon shining through the curtains, 'yes, of course' he smiled, nuzzling his nose into your hair, taking in the scent with a deep breath.

'good night baby,' he kissed your head, 'i love you' you melted once the words hit your ears, it wasn't said often but special every time it was fabricated into the real world.

'i love you too' you whispered, moving closer to him as much as you could, closing your eyes as marks scent filled your senses, his warm body radiating the perfect amount of heat to yours, soft sheets that hugged you almost as well as he was. it was hard not to quickly drift off to dreamland.

which brought you to the morning after, mark still having an iron grip tight hold on you and lightly snoring in your ears as you tried to count his breathing. that was until something else caught your attention, mark brought you in closer, shoving his nose into your neck, pulling your body flush with his. you could feel something hard on the back of your thigh and if your suspicions were right then this could get interesting. you and mark had not been that sexually involved... yet. stating he had wanted to take his time with you, that he would be ready whenever you were. never going further than making out and scandalous touches over each others bodies. you didn't mind and it seemed like he didn't either as he never pressured you into doing anything more, but you had been ready for a while, the conversation just never coming up. it seemed like sex wasn't that important to either of you.

you stirred as his nose tickled your neck, causing him to wake up, long eyelashes batting as he tried to fight the sleepiness away. 'mornin' baby' he yawned, voice low and groggy. you smiled up at him, stealing glances at his face under the warm glow of the sun peeking in through the curtains.

'mmm' you giggled, 'don't yawn, you're gonna make me yawn' of course watching him do just that triggered a yawn out of you which made him laugh, grabbing you tighter and shaking you in rhythm with the sound. and now being so close made you feel his morning wood again, which made you freeze in his hold

he noticed the way you seemed to tighten your muscles and go stiff, 'what's wrong baby?'

you blushed, should it be brought up? did you want to embarrass your boyfriend like that? it was kind of hard to ignore it... 'oh, um, it seems like you have a problem' you slurred out the last words, hoping he would pick up whatever you were putting down.

dropping the ball completely your words were lost on him, 'oh?' you shifted your leg, making his move in response, eyes wide in shock 'oh' he finally picked it up.

his ears were already hot in embarrassment, your chest caved in its secondhandness, and you now feel bad that you brought it up. 'i-im so so-' he started, moving away from you, face now wearing a pink hue.

you grabbed his wrist, bringing him back closer to you, 'i-i could help you...' whispering, 'if you want' heart beating so fast from the suggestion, half excited, half anxious.

'oh, you really don't have to' his smile faltered, 'i can take care of it in the bathroom or something.'

your occasional innocent facade cracking, 'i want to, please' giving him the best pouty face you could muster.

he sighed and moved towards his pillow, back now slouched against the headboard, his eyes darkening with lust, 'only if you want to babe, i can't refuse you'

you smiled at the green light, climbing on top of him, grasping both shoulders in your hands, you leaned in. he tilted his head to the side, allowing easy access for your lips. he still tasted like the toothpaste you had used last night, exploring his mouth with such delicacy, taking your time with him. lightly grinding your hips down onto his groin made him moan into your mouth. a string of curse words leaving his lips in a raspy tone, still trying to overcome sleep.

making sure to kiss the moles that adorned his face, you then moved onto his neck, sucking light bruises into the sensitive skin. mark let out wanton moans, always vocal in the best ways, a sound you could listen to for the rest of your life.

you continued to move backwards until your reached his crotch. the bugle defined in his pajama pants making your mouth water, you always imagined what it would look like, your boyfriend was too handsome and sexy for you not to sometimes picture moments like this before bed or in the shower.

you reached for the waistband of his pants and underwear, pulling them both down together, sitting them near his thigh. his cock sprung free from its confines, lightly slapping against his toned stomach. 'so pretty' you said more to yourself than to him. you grabbed it and pumped his member up and down, mark sucked in a breath, eyes shut due to the bliss.

you brought your head down, mouth closer to the red, bulbous tip. you gently licked a strip up the shaft, testing the waters before diving in head first. literally.

mark groaned again, bringing his hand to your head, tangling his fingers into your hair, grasping lightly. you went ahead and took him into your mouth, easing his member in inch by inch. he didn't push you but guided you through it. 'fuck baby, that feels s-so good' he gasps, chest moving up and down rapidly.

once your nose touched his pubic bone you started moving, bobbing your head up and down sensually before your movements grew faster. mark jerked his hips into your mouth, making you choke a bit, 'i-i fuck i'm sorry' he blabbered, gripping your hair tighter. you moaned around him, making his body vibrate in response.

the wet sounds and marks panting filled up the room, breaking through the silence of the morning. it was absolute debauchery. you could tell he was close, fingers holding your hair like a vice, the other hand grasping the sheets, eyes staring at you through thick eyelashes as he watched you suck his dick.

you sucked in harder, cheeks caving in as drool pools into your mouth and around marks thick cock. 'o-oh my god, baby, just like that' the praise making you go faster, wanting him to reach his high soon due to the ache in your jaw and between your thighs.

you brought your hand up to grasp whatever you didn't put into your mouth, moving hit in tandem with your mouth, mark cried above you, whimpering that he was coming to come soon. you moaned again not stopping, the quiver leaving him to groan vehemently.

hot liquid filled your mouth as you tried to swallow all of his come. some of it dribbling off of your chin and onto marks thighs, he panted above you, as you pulled off of him and wiped your mouth. moving back down to pepper kisses over his thighs, lightly sucking to make your mark on him.

lust overtaking him completely, forcing you up back to meet his eyes, 'my turn' he growled out.

[bigpushforme]

A Life Lesson

Quick Disclaimer - This story is intended to be more of a comedy birth story. It's not super hot or spicy, but hopefully it will make you laugh a bit. Secondly, I cranked this out in like an hour after the initial idea hit me. It probably isn't my best work so apologies if it's lower quality than I what I've posted before. Finally, I am always trying to improve as a writer. If you have any constructive criticism of my work, please feel free to share it with me in DMs. ~ K.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Being a College Professor was one of the greatest joys of your life. You found a special pride in bringing up the next generation of scholars. Your Colleagues respect you, your husband loves you, and your students honor you. Life was good, but got even better when you realized that you were pregnant. This would have been a completely unexpected surprise, if you didn’t recall that one night you and your husband couldn’t wait to go get condoms…

It didn’t matter though, as you both wanted a child and were well off financially. You took the pregnancy in stride, enjoying every movement, kick, ultrasound, and hormonally-induced crying sessions. 

As you approached your due date, you received a call from the Dean of your department with a request to meet. You attended, having no idea what this was about. “I have a proposal for you, my dear.” He began. “We at the University have been troubled by the Freshmen lack of sexual health knowledge. These Schools they’re coming from are leaving them woefully unprepared to take control of their sexual health.” The Dean was a well-respected man in the field of Human Anatomy with too many awards and degrees on his back wall to back up his status. You chuckled, thinking that he was about to offer you a position as the Remedial Sex-Ed teacher, something you wouldn’t mind, if you weren’t so pregnant. 

“So, you want me to get these students up to speed?” You asked. Surprisingly, he shook his head. 

“No. Well, at least not conventionally.” He took a breath and composed himself. “We believe that the best way to teach these students the consequences of unsafe sex practices, is to witness a live birth first hand.” You blinked. “The Department is wondering if you would let these students witness you give birth to your child.”

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that. You had just gotten used to the idea of being fully exposed at that moment, but it’s easy to justify when it’s just your husband and trained medical staff. A bunch of college freshmen though?

“I…I don’t know, Dean. I would need to think this over with my husband…” You reply, the Dean understandably shakes his head and tells you to think it over, reassuring you that nothing would change should you refuse. 

That night, you explained the situation to your husband. “Well, I can’t say his methods aren’t sound in logic. I remember my Mom making me watch her deliver my little brother. Always made sure to have a condom on me after that.” He chuckled. “Still, this will be your big day, so you’re in charge. I’ll go along with whatever you want.” You smiled and kissed your husband, ending the evening in a night of love-making where he wouldn’t need a condom. 

The next morning, you had made up your mind. You strolled back into the Dean’s office with a smirk on your face. “I’ll do it, but I have some demands.” You stated confidently. The Dean seemed shocked that you actually agreed to the idea, but quickly grabbed a notepad and pen. “Uh…of course!” He said, listening intently. 

“First, I will have a homebirth. I’m not pushing this baby out in a lecture hall. Second, I will only allow three students to watch. I prefer them all to be women, but I will allow one man if you deem it absolutely necessary. The rest of the class can watch a recording. Those that are in attendance must stay for the whole thing. I can’t run from this, so they can’t either.” You laid your demands firmly on the table, and the Dean wrote them all down carefully. “Finally, I want a raise. 40%.” You crossed your arms over your body, laying them across your swollen belly. You watched the Dean’s face shoot upward to look at you. He opened his mouth, presumably to protest, but he quickly realized he was in no position to do so considering what he asked of you. “Deal.”

The next few months went by uneventfully. There were a few changes that needed to be made to the birth plan, but they weren’t that big of a deal. The night before your due date you were in the kitchen when the first contraction hit you, nearly buckling over with the sudden pain. You panted hard and got your bearings once your husband arrived and let you to the couch. You looked at him with a soft smile, one that told him you were okay. “Call the Midwife…then call the students…”

The three students that arrived were all women, arriving at one time. You were a bit surprised to see them come in all at once. Your husband let them in while you were in the middle of a contraction. “Hey, Professor!” One of the more bubbly ones yelled out as she entered. “Sorry if we got here too early. We knew you were due tomorrow, so we had a sleepover last night so we could come right away when we were called! How are you?”

“Ahhhh!!!”

“Oh…right. Labor…” She replied to herself, met with giggles from her two friends. The Midwife which knelt at your feet laughed as well. “She still has a way to go, ladies. I would make yourself comfortable. Feel free to ask any questions you have.” She filled the girls in on your behalf. You breathed long and slow, trying to work through the pain. Sans any complications, you intended to have this baby as Mother Nature intended. The three girls sat in various places throughout the room, talking amongst themselves and asking the Midwife questions. They seemed relatively knowledgeable about the process, and for a moment you wondered why they even needed to be here. “What are all those towels for?” One of them asked. 

“To clean the baby once she is born.” The Midwife replied, keeping her attention on you. The girl cocked her head to the side like a confused puppy, “Why? They come out so clean and pretty with those cute hats on, right?”

Oh. That’s why they were here. 

The Midwife looked at the girl, then back to you. “You are doing a great service to these young people.” She replied with a snicker. You smiled, only to be hit with another contraction. 

“Ggggnnaahhh!!!” You couldn’t help but let out a cry as the pain shot through you. The contractions weren’t getting any stronger, which means you still had a while of laboring to get through. Your husband stayed by your side the whole time, except when he went to see your guests. 

“Girls, I just want you to understand that if you’re squeamish, now would be the time to leave. Once she starts pushing, that door is locked until the baby is out. Do you understand?” He asked the girls tactfully. One of them stood up and crossed her arms. 

“It can’t be that bad, right? I watch those shows on TV all the time!” The Bubbly one agreed with her friend. “Yeah, this will be the easiest A we ever make!” Your husband laughed to himself. You made him agree to not correct them, at all. He was not to say anything that would discourage them from watching closely. 

You attempted to rest as much as you can. The girls stayed to themselves as you labored, having most of their questions answered by either your husband or the Midwife. You couldn’t respond, but you got a nice chuckle out of hearing their innocent questions, and yet, you finally understood why the Dean was so concerned about how little they knew.

“I heard you can’t get pregnant if you have sex in Cowgirl. All the cum just falls out, right?” “You can only get pregnant one day out of the month, so can I just avoid that day?” “If a trans man gets pregnant, where does the baby come out of?”

Your dear husband attempted to answer these questions as best he could, as the Midwife was focused only on you. Another contraction came, much stronger this time. “Nnnnggg!!!!” You grit your teeth through the pain. The Midwife checked your cervix. “Ten centimeters, time to push!” She said with a satisfied smile. Your body was already telling you to push and you knew you wouldn’t be able to fight it for long. Your husband helped you into position, laying on a pile of thick blankets with your back against him for support. Your legs were splayed open, giving your audience of three a nice view of the coming show. The girls gathered in front of you, innocent smiles on their faces and encouraging words on their lips. “You can do it, Professor!” One spoke. “Come on…big push!” Another encouraged you. 

You took your husband's hand and squeezed, bearing down and pushing with everything you had. You could feel the baby descend, move with each contraction as it fought to enter the world. “Come on, Mama…one more push…” The Midwife spoke, and you did so.

“Gaaahhh! Fuuuck, this hurts…!” You groaned out in pain. In the brief moment between pushes, you looked up at your audience. They had gone suspiciously quiet. The Bubbly one had an odd look on her face, like she didn’t expect what she was seeing. “Is that…?”

“Good job, Mama! Big push!”

“AHHHHH!!!!”

“Easy, breathe…you’re crowning!”

You looked up. Their faces had gone from curious, to horrified.

“Her pussy is so…stretched…”

“What is all that leaking from her…?”

“Is this normal?”

Your husband smiled at you and broke your gaze long enough to speak to the girls, “Yes, ladies. This is childbirth. If you have a baby one day, this will happen to you, too.”

The Bubbly one collapsed, her knees giving out and forcing her to kneel. “Fuck that! I’m adopting!” If you weren’t in so much pain, you would’ve laughed. All things considered, this was shaping up to be a very normal and healthy delivery. Still, this was not a biology lesson for these girls, it was a life lesson. As a dutiful professor who desires to make her lessons stick, you decided to…ham it up a bit.

“AHHHHH!!!” You screamed. The Midwife seemed surprised as you were in between pushes, but she quickly caught on. You looked at your husband. “WHY DIDN’T WE USE A CONDOM….?!” You didn’t have time to gauge the girl’s reactions before another contraction hit you, eliciting a very strong, and very real scream. “AHHHH!!!” 

“Give me one more big push, Mama…she’s almost here!”

You summoned all the strength you had left in your body, as if you had called on the strength of every woman before you that was in this position. You felt the telling movement in between your legs, and your screams were cut only by a loud gushing sound as your body finally released your daughter. 

She was perfectly healthy. The baby cried softly as she was placed on your chest while the Midwife cleaned her. Your eyes were locked onto the soft creature, but for the briefest of seconds, you looked up. One look at the faces of your audience told you all you need to know. They got the lesson. 

The Midwife remained to clean you up and help you to recover. Meanwhile, your husband escorted the girl’s out of the house. They didn’t speak. 

“Ladies, thank you for sharing this very special moment with us. We hope you learned a lot!” He said, his voice dripping with smug sarcasm. The girl’s just nodded quietly, no doubt reconsidering their desire to have children. “Oh, before you go, the Professor wanted to make a gift for you all.” He pulled out a basket with three bags and handed one to each student. “Ten condoms and a guide on how to use them properly.” The girls snatched the bags and held them close as if those condoms were life-saving medications. “And the Midwife wanted to offer you all her card, if you choose to ignore what you’ve learned today…” He added a small business card to each bag and let them go on their way. 

He returned to your side with a smile. “You think they got the lesson?” You asked. He smiled. “I think so.”

[sturniololuvz]

“Little Skater, Big Tears”

Sturniolos x sister

The Sturniolo triplets stood by the edge of the ice rink, tightening their skates while their three-year-old sister, Y/N, sat on the bench between them, bundled up in her oversized coat. Her tiny feet dangled, already laced into her little skates, but she wasn’t nearly as excited as the boys were.

��Alright, munchkin,” Matt grinned, kneeling in front of her. “You ready to be the best skater out there?”

Y/N clung to Chris’s arm, her big eyes filled with doubt. “No,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

Chris chuckled. “C’mon, it’s gonna be fun! And we won’t let you fall, promise!”

That was the biggest lie ever.

The second she stepped onto the ice with their help, her legs wobbled, and before Nick could even get a firm grip on her, she plopped straight onto her butt.

Her eyes widened in shock before her lower lip trembled. “Ow…” she whined.

“You’re okay! Just gotta get back up,” Nick said, quickly picking her up and placing her on her feet again.

Three seconds later—boom. Right back down.

This time, her little sniffles turned into a full-on wail. “I don’t like dis!” she cried, rubbing her gloved hands over her teary face.

Chris bent down, rubbing her back. “You’re good, princess. Wanna hold both our hands?”

She sniffled and gave a small nod. Chris and Matt each took one of her tiny hands, slowly gliding forward. It worked for a few steps, but then she tripped over her own skates, nearly pulling both boys down with her.

More tears. More frustration. More dramatic sniffles.

“You got this, Y/N!” Nick encouraged from ahead. “Look, you’re skating!”

“I wanna go home,” she pouted.

“Not yet, munchkin,” Matt said. “One more try.”

As they continued slowly across the rink, Y/N finally found a small rhythm, smiling up at Chris proudly—until she let go of his hand to balance on her own.

Bad idea.

Her little skate slipped, and before she knew it, she was tumbling forward, hitting her forehead lightly against the ice.

Silence for a split second.

Then—

“WAAAHHHHH!”

Chris was the first to scoop her up, his heart dropping when he saw a small trickle of blood forming where she hit her head.

“Oh my God,” Matt muttered, immediately pulling off his glove and pressing it gently against her forehead. “It’s not bad, it’s just a little cut.”

“Doesn’t feel little to her,” Nick said, looking at Y/N, who was sobbing into Chris’s shoulder.

Chris rocked her gently, whispering reassurances. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I promise. Just a tiny boo-boo.”

“I don’t like hockey,” she hiccupped between sobs.

Nick snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think we’re gonna have a future skater in the family.”

After getting her off the ice and cleaned up, Y/N finally calmed down in Chris’s arms, still sniffling.

“You know,” Matt said, kneeling beside her. “For a second, you were actually skating.”

Y/N frowned, clearly not buying it. “No, I wasn’t.”

Chris smiled. “Yeah, you were, princess. You did so good.”

Nick ruffled her hair. “Just… maybe we’ll wait a few years before trying again.”

Y/N looked at all three of them, her face still puffy from crying. “Can I get ice cream?”

The triplets exchanged glances and laughed.

“Yeah, munchkin,” Matt said, scooping her up. “You definitely earned it.”

[kokushibosbestie]

pt.1 here!!

Everywhere Yuji went, he couldn't stop thinking about you. God, your smile was just...so pretty. He was starting to believe you just weren't real. And your laugh was adorable. He made it his goal to make you laugh every time you two hung out and he achieved that goal every single time. The way you purposefully sang horribly when you both sang songs together in his dorm just because he was a horrible singer and you weren't was so cute to him.

Oh.

Oh...

Right.

You two didn't talk anymore.

Because of a slip of his words.

But now you two were in the back of Ijjichi's car, driving to a mission's location. And you had sat on the other side of the vehicle instead of next to him like you usually did. Even that little change hurt his heart.

You leaned on the car window, looking at the grey sky and raindrops falling harshly, just like the day he'd spent crying over you in his dorm. Days like these were either the best or worst days.

Once you arrive at the destination, Ijjichi lets you out of the car and tells you exactly where the curse should be. You silently lead the way while Yuji follows quietly behind you, hating this silence and himself for ever saying anything. The cold air felt like an insult on its own, making everything feel more...crisp and whispy.

He was sure he loved you, even if he'd never been in love before, he knew this was it. But in his head, he believed that he would never be good enough for you. He didn't hate himself for telling you, he hated himself for having these feelings in the first place.

Nonetheless, you both find the curse and very easily exorcize it without saying a word to each other. You didn't know how to feel anymore. Liking Yuji romantically had never been a thing you'd thought about or even wanted. It was always Megumi on your mind. Even if he was kinda a bitch, you still liked him. But for what?

Why couldn't you make up a reason why you couldn't like Yuji?

He was perfect in his design and he had just confessed to you, whether intentionally or not.

So why didn't you like him?

And that was the question both of you'd been asking yourselves silently for the past few days.

The forest area was gloomy with only little rays of dull sunshine forcing themselves through the bushy trees while the rain continued to berate your heads as if mad.

Yuji pulled up his hood as you walked back, though it didn't seem like a way to protect himself from the rain. It looked like he wanted to hide himself from the world. Curl up into a ball and break down again. He never looked so...lifeless before. His eyes were dull and the lack of his usual pretty smile made everything feel so much worse.

There goes that guilt. The way your stomach fills with a sort of emptiness and your throat feels smaller tells you might've not been the only one wanting to break down.

But why did you feel that way?

You wanted to say something, just to ask if he was okay. Of course, you could tell he wasn't, but you still wanted to try. You just couldn't find your voice as the corners of your eyes tingled with emotions you couldn't understand.

And Yuji...poor Yuji. He'd never felt so alone. He talked to Nobara about it and that was the first time she hadn't yelled at him in a conversation in a while.

"I just...want my best friend back. Without the whole feelings thing." "Well, you can't control how you feel. And you don't know how they truly feel either. They decided to shut themselves away from everyone, but they never directly stated what they felt for you or Megumi or anyone else." "But-" "Itadori. You know I'm right." "Yeah, I guess...but how would I even bring that up? I've already ruined whatever we had and made it weird." "No, you didn't. Ask them what they want and if it's really worth all of this sneaking around the problem." "..." "And Itadori, it's not your fault. I might not be an expert, but I know that you're not half-bad as a friend and I'm sure you'd be great to them if you ever got the chance to be more."

Yuji had been thinking about that conversation ever since. Nobara seemed right, and he thought about doing as she'd told him, but he was scared. He didn't know why he was scared. He'd already made a fool of himself, so why not do it a little more?

But then, what was there for you to cry about?

Maybe those unrequited feelings about Megumi.

Or were they really ever about him in the first place...?

- pax <3

Tagging: @moonchhu

[sirensuccubus88]

Stupid Fleshlight

Your my best friend! You've listened to me whine and complain about the mean bad men in my life. You've been sweet and attentive and patient... Oh so patient. Biding your time, gaining my trust. It's finally time. You've had enough and your going to make me yours whether I like it or not.

It's my birthday and I can't wait to spend it with you!!! You said you have a big surprise for me!!! I really did end up with the bestest friend ever.

I get all dolled up, just in case you want to go out. I come over to your place and you've baked me a cake!!! And it's a strawberry shortcake cake, my favorite!! But you hate strawberries... So I guess it's all mine? You pull out your own chocolate cake and I smile. I really wouldn't want you to feel left out. I care about you! We are besties!!!

You look at me with this EVIL grin and I'm startled for just a moment but you say "hey, let's make a bet, whoever finished their cake the fastest, gets to pick the movie we watch while we wait for your surprise?" There's been a movie I've been begging you to watch with me and you've already rented it. It's the perfect bait.

"Your so on" the race is on and I'm definitely winning.... But it kinda feels like your heart isn't in it.... Are you letting me win because it's my birthday? I stop when I couldn't possibly eat another bite. 

"I win!!!" I squeal. "But man my tummy hurts, why'd you make me eat so much?" 

You just laugh and offer to let me lay down on your lap while you put the movie on. When I lay my head down I ignore your boner in my face, after all we're just friends..... Right? About half way through the movie I start to get really dizzy and hot. My nipples are so hard, pussy so wet, and I can't think straight. I don't remember what we are watching... All I can focus on is how I feel. What was in that cake you baked me?!?! 

I try not to but my body is so overwhelmed I can't help it. I start squirming and moaning, softly at 1st and then louder as all the sensations get worse.

As soon as I make a noise, it's like a flip in you switched. 

You smirk and you stop touching me. You stop rubbing my back and combing my hair. You even scoot away so I'm not in your lap anymore. What's going on? I whine and start to crawl towards you, not thinking, not caring... The drugs have me so high all I can think about is getting your touch back, my skin feels so empty without it.

You stop me. That evil look is back. You look at me and say one word "BEG" I look at you confused... It doesn't register.

"If you want it, if you want me, then BEG" my body is aching so bad it hurts and I can't breathe. I give in and I beg and plead, saying anything I think you want to hear to make you touch me. And then I say it, what you've been waiting for "I'll do anything you want, be anything you want, please just touch me" your smile widens and you pull out your phone. You put it in selfie mode, come up from behind me, grab my pretty little neck, put your face next to mine and press record "say that again, my pretty birthday girl" "I'll do anything you want, be anything you want, please just touch me" "are you sure princess" "yes yes yes"

You turn your phone off, grab me and drag me to your bedroom. You throw me on the bed and pull out a big box of toys and the biggest bottle of lube I have ever seen. My eyes go wide but my body is to the point where it won't even respond. There's no escape. I noticed 3pocket pussies... WHY THREE???

At first you finger me and then fuck me.... But it's not enough, so you do the same to my ass, but still not enough. So you make me cock warm you with my mouth while you stretch both my holes with your hands and toys so much that I cry around your cock in my mouth. The entire time you only touch me as much as you have to leaving the rest of my body to ache for it.

I finally think your done when you start violently fucking my face and cum down my throat. You leave me and I relax. My skin still hurts, needy and desperate for touch, but I wasn't sure all 3 of my holes could take much more torture. 

But out of the corner of my eyes I see you start to disassemble the 3 pocket pussys, putting just the sleeves off to the side. You pick them up along with the bottle of lube and come to me. You start lubing up the OUTSIDE of the sleeve and I can't even fathom what your about to do next.

You stretching me out was just setting the ground work. You start to force the pocket pussy sleeve inside me!!! All I can muster is incoherent whimpers and sobs. You shove and twist until it's all the way in, and then my ass is next. Once I am stuffed you come up to me and kiss my forehead and say "open your mouth princess" I do. What else could I do? You put the last one in my mouth, I can still breathe but its far enough in that I can't push it out with my tongue. You take a picture of me like that, and then a selfie with me like your at a theme park.

You spend the rest of the night fucking the sleeves into me, in every hole. But this time you touch me like you can't keep your hands off me, like they crave my skin as much as I do your hands. You give me sick and twisted praise all night "such a good pretty stupid little fleshlight for daddy".... My body finally getting all the touch that it needs, cums all over the sleeves that your fucking into me.... Over and over, no matter how much I don't want it to, no matter how much I beg in my head for it to stop. But I can't even speak or move. 

When you finally get tired you lay down and spoon me. Whispering in my ear "you were such a good girl for me tonight princess. I hope you liked your surprise. Happy Birthday, Sweet dreams." and you snuggle me tight , so that I couldn't move even if my body would work. The exhaustion hits and I fall asleep still stuffed full of sleeves.

[druid-for-hire]

[image id: a four-page comic. it is titled "immortality” after the poem by clare harner (more popularly known as “do not stand at my grave and weep”). the first page shows paleontologists digging up fossils at a dig. it reads, “do not stand at my grave and weep. i am not there. i do not sleep.” page two features several prehistoric creatures living in the wild. not featured but notable, each have modern descendants: horses, cetaceans, horsetail plants, and crocodilians. it reads, “i am a thousand winds that blow. i am the diamond glints on snow. i am the sunlight on ripened grain. i am the gentle autumn rain.” the third page shows archaeopteryx in the treetops and the skies, then a modern museum-goer reading the placard on a fossil display. it reads, “when you awaken in the morning’s hush, i am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight. i am the soft stars that shine at night. do not stand at my grave and cry.” the fourth page shows a chicken in a field. it reads, “i am not there. i did not die” / end id]

a comic i made in about 15 hours for my school’s comic anthology. the theme was “evolution”

[zappedbyzabka]

Sacrificial lamb and all that

[silverselfshippingchaos]

ugghhh wintertime sucks!! I'm sad and tired and sad all the time.. I need a nap.. and f/o cuddles.. and another nap..

[classyrbf]

you find it so funny how people think your husband, nanami, is the sweetest, most innocent and romantic man they’ve ever laid eyes on, such a gentleman. Which, they are correct in some ways. Gentleman. Check. Sweet. Check. Romantic. Check. He’s always buying you flowers, opening doors for you, kissing your hand, taking you out on spontaneous dates, calling you ‘sweetheart’, ‘honey’, ‘love’, and treating you like some porcelain doll. But innocent? Oh no, no. You almost laugh because it may seem like your husband is ‘innocent’ or ‘vanilla’ whichever term they may use, but he is anything but that. While he may treat you like a princess in public, he absolutely sluts you out behind closed doors.

You don’t blame people for thinking he may look and act soft because that was your first impression of him too. So, imagine the surprise when you first had sex and he was pounding you in a mating press, tears streaming down your face. Yeah, best night of your life. And now that you’re married? God, it makes the sex one hundreds times better than before. He’s go you on your side, one arm hooked under your leg, reaching so far that he’s able to wrap his hand around your throat. The other wrapped around your waist, rubbing your clit while he fucks his cum into you. He’s forcing you to look him in the eyes, faces inches away from each other, because he wants to watch your pretty face when you cum. So innocent, right?

“Oh my god! Fuck!” You cry out, your breathing labored. He’s so deep inside of you, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again to the point it makes your head spin especially when he’s toying with your swollen clit. “I can’t! I can’t, Ken! You’re too fucking deep! Ah!” You grip onto the ruffled sheets below, bucking your hips as you attempt to make his cock not feel so good, but the bruising grip he has on your throat and waist puts you right back in your place.

“You can take it, sweetheart. I know you can. You know why?” He pulls you in closer, pressing his lips to your ear. “Cause you’re a fucking slut for this dick.” He thrusts his hips faster, skin slapping against skin and the mixture of your juices and his cum create a sticky mess between your thighs. “Awe, is that gonna make you cum? Being degraded? I can feel your pussy clenching me,” he darkly smiled, heavy breaths fanning against your damp skin. He rubbed your clit faster, carefully watching the way you threw your head back in pure bliss.

“Fuckkkk! You’re gonna make me cum again!” Your toes curled the closer you got to your orgasm, whimpering as you took in every feeling of pleasure coursing through you.

“Squirt all over this dick, baby. Be a good girl for me and show me how good I make you feel.” He felt your walls tightening with each passing second, sweat trailing down his forehead as he kept his pace. Your legs began to shake as you writhed under him, cursing and screaming as you squirted all over, soaking the blankets below you. “Messy fucking slut. Look at you, you’re still fucking going.”

“Oh my god! Yes, yes, yes!” Your brows furrowed as you watched him fuck you through your orgasm. “It’s too much, Ken!” You pulled his hand away from your clit, holding onto his wrist tightly while he slowed down his thrusts, now going deep and slow. You laid there in a dazed state, trying to catch your breath. His hand gently caressed your stomach slowly inching up towards your tits, cupping them in his hand while he placed sloppy kisses down your neck and to your collarbone.

So yes, while your husband may be such a gentleman, such a sweetheart, such an angel to others, in the back of your head, you think of those moments behind closed doors when he makes you cum your brains out, praising you and degrading you all within the same breath, choking you and treating you like some common whore. But after all that’s over, he’s back to treating you like the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. It’s truly the best of both worlds.

[eupheme]

— sugar, sugar

[part ii] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)

a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

“You gonna introduce me?”

You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.

“You think this will wash out?” 

The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.

“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”

He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.

“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. 

Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.

Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.  

But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”

“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”

“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”

He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”

Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.

“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”

You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter. 

But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.

Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.

But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.  

“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”

Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”

That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”

“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”

“Who do you think got Peter?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.

“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”

Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”

“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”

“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”

The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.

“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”

“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.

You give him a sideways look, then.

“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”

He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.

“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another. 

You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”

Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”

The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”

An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”

It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”

Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.

“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”

“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”

The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.

“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing. 

Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid. 

He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer. 

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.

Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do. 

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.

He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.

Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing. 

Ambiance, his ass.

The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.

Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.

Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.

A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home. 

Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.

Better not to hope, or even think, at all. 

You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close. 

A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide. 

“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”

A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”

Penis cake?

Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open. 

Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”

Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”

Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.

“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”

Jesus Christ. 

Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”

Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.

A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.

“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”

A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.

“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.

Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.

Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own personal version of hell.

“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing. 

Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours. 

They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head. 

She wants to meet you.

He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him. 

“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”

“Uh-uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses. 

“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.” 

He hates you.

He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.

Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.

That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away. 

“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin. 

“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”

His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.

“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”

His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”

“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts. 

“You first.”

“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing. 

Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger. 

It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back. 

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”

You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.

“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”

Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways. 

Different. Special.

“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”

There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.

“Right. What flavor was it?”

Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”

A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”

The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade. 

“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.

“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”

There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry. 

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”

The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood. 

Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.

“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers. 

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing. 

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”

His hand flexes in your grip.

“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”

Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.

“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”

Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough. 

“No. I don’t think so.”

Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face. 

His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows. 

Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.

His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.

Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.

“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?” 

His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.

Surely he must know? 

“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.

“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”

“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.

All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken. 

Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.

“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”

You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.

Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush. 

“You want to get out of here?”

You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.

His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.

Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.

His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.

It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.

Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it. 

His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.

Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.

A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.

Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.

Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.

Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.

You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down. 

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.

“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring. 

It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.

Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath. 

The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?” 

He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch. 

“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”

You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”

He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”

And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.

“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down. 

His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.

Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him. 

The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.

That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.

Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.

“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.” 

Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again. 

A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache. 

Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone. 

His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate. 

“That’s it sweetheart.”

Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.

You did this to him. 

It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down. 

A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop. 

Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.

A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you. 

“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.

Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.

His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.

“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”

It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.

A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.

The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest. 

“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”

You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.

It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.

That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim. 

A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him.  It’s what you needed - that little bit more.

Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge. 

Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”

He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking. 

His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.

It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.

You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him. 

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.

Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.

You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him. 

A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his. 

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up. 

Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”

Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.

Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.

Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.

“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it. 

“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”

He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.

It’s almost too much. 

You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin. 

It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.

That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat. 

Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.

How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out. 

“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”

He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in. 

Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.

“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”

The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear. 

Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.

He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.

Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap. 

It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him. 

Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”

Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.  

Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught. 

Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.

Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.

There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.

Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.” 

Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.

The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”

You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.

But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.

“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”

Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.

Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.

“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”

“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”

I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”