#and it seems like anons are just out of hand at the moment

[robinsfilm]

TOUNGE TIED

PAIRING: jason todd ✗ reader ;

SYNOPSIS: hidden away in a library, you bask in seeing that pink hue on jason's cheeks ;

ANON ASKED: " Reader teasing Jason over his blushing. You can decide whether they're in an established or pre-established relationship. " ;

WORD COUNT: 0.9k ;

NOTES: took a while to get this request done, not because the writing took some time, it was just because this is my first ever time getting actual requests, so i am all over the place with this. in this work reader and jason aren't in a relationship yet. thank you anon for the request <3 cross posted on my AO3.

♯ MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION.

A SUBTLE TINGLING OF THE BELL SHIMMERED IN THE AIR. The old smell of book pages spreads through the small library. Its rusty brick outside, snuggled between two towering buildings, had caught Jason's eye during patrol a few days ago.

He contemplated asking you if you'd like to visit the little, small haven he had found. Every time the thought crossed his mind, a warm feeling spread through his body; his cheeks felt hot and his hands shaky.

Weird, but now that doesn't matter.

What matters is that somehow you both were in the doorway of the said library.

Your eyes darted around the room laid in front of you, curiosity obvious in your gaze. The library had truly had a homey, cozy feeling to it. Your hand grazed Jason's as you pointed out a decoration on the wall next to the two of you, though Jason's mind was preoccupied by the small touch of your hand on his.

Was it silly, he thought, that even a single graze had him tripping over his words?

The same warmth spreads through him now as it did then when he thought of ways to bring you here; what do I say to them? Should I label this as a date? Or is that too soon?

He remembers mentioning the small library when you piped up and suggested both of you visited the place.

“C’mon, Jaybeans! It’ll be fun. You and me.” You and me.

You took the words out of his mouth, literally. Answer, goddamn it!

“Yes!” he says, a bit too loud. You tilt your head, a smirk appearing on your face.

Oh, he wanted to wipe that smug grin off your face. With a kiss, preferably. You'd have a field day teasing him for that as well. He can’t really seem to mind; a kiss from you seems worth it.

He's forced to snap out of his daydream when he hears your melodic voice ring out in his ears.

“Earth to Jason,” you quip, not before raising a brow, “what's got you all quiet? You seem nervous.”

Goddamn you and how well you know him and his tells.

“Nothing,” he stammers as he answers, “now, let's go in.”

The warmth of the library makes both of you feel the unforgiving cold of the Gotham weather. The freezing hands hidden in pockets slowly peeking out, faces hiding under scarves poking out.

More accurately, his face pokes out from the scarf wrapped around him. Your scarf, he should add on that.

He almost stopped dead in his tracks when you turned to him and wrapped the fluffy, crocheted by hand scarf around him.

You scolded him about dressing appropriately for the weather. He should have been listening; god knows he hangs onto every word you say, but at that moment every sound was lost on him.

The saccharine-intoxicating smell of the fabric engulfed him wholly.

You eyed him a moment then, eyes squinting as if taking every detail of him, before you muttered just for him to hear.

“It looks good on you.”

Jason feels his cheeks grow hot—too hot, his palms grow sweaty. God, when did it get so hot?

The last thing he remembers seeing is your face breaking into a proud smile.

He hopes you won't ask for the scarf back, he thinks as he gathers both of your coats to set on the rack.

The book shelves fill the entire library so much that there's barely any space for the two of you. You don't seem to mind, he notes, as you drag him down the shelves, bodies close.

He runs his hand through his hair nervously, black and white steaks getting caught between his fingers. He has styled it. Did you notice, he thinks? Does he want you to notice?

Yes, he concludes, he does.

“Hm,” you hum, “I’ve been planning on reading Emma since you mentioned it.” You remembered that? He thinks as you look through the books to find your desired one.

‘If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.’

He remembers that single quote; it rings over in his mind repeatedly.

Get it together, Jason, he scolds himself.

“It has ‘the I-am-going-to-scoop-my-heart-out-with-a-spoon level romance of Pride & Prejudice’” he muses.

“It better not be like Mansfield Park,” you puff. “Jane, I'm not mad; I’m just disappointed.”

His laugh slipped out, low and warm. You take in the sight in front of you: his laugh; his smile, his eyes smiling alongside with it; the scrunching of his nose.

It’s truly a heavenly sight.

Oh, only if you could tell him.

“You should laugh more,” you simply say. It’ll do for now; it’ll do until he gives you the okay, the okay to tell him all of it.

You'll bask in his blushes and stutters as he tries to gather his thoughts.

“What?”

“You should laugh more,” you contemplate for a second, “and blush more.”

“You—” he huffs, “just get the book.” He tries to turn his head away from you, though the red on the tip of his ears is telling you all you need to know.

You'll wait; he'll wait as well.

Because all of this is worth the wait.

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[robo-writing]

I saw your requests were open, so I have to ask for… pain 😔

Can I request a Logan x afab!reader HCs or full fic about how reader is getting older and he kinda isn’t yk? Like going from when they first met, to readers deathbed, and how he has to live without them for the rest of his life 🫶🫶

Also take care of yourself DRINK WATER 🥰

Oh yeah, it’s angst time.

It's sooner than later that you'll be alone Synopsis: You live a long life, but not as long as Logan's. Warnings: 3.2k words of gut-wrenching angst, mentions of blood, grieving someone after they're gone Author's note: Hope you're happy anon, I cried five times writing this <3

He had first met you in your twenties—twenty-three, to be exact.

Young, bright eyed, naive. You were kind, where he was not. You were hopeful, where he was jaded and angry at the world. He loved your innocence, how you always saw the best in others—suppose that’s what made you such a good counselor to the children. You listened—really, truly listened—made anyone that walked through your office doors feel welcomed.

Maybe that’s why he found his way to you. When the nightmares wouldn’t let him sleep and the voices wouldn’t let him think, he shuffled to your bedroom door without a goal in sight, bare feet padding against the polished floors. His knuckles meet your door, seconds passing by before he asks himself why the hell he’s even here in the first place.

Before he could walk away he heard your feet shuffling, followed by the click of your doorknob.

He felt guilty for waking you up, eyes red and face puffy, but you didn’t even question why he was at your door, just rubbed your eyes and opened the door wider for him to walk in.

It was silent at first. You offered him some water, passed him a blanket, and just sat there. You never pressured him to speak, and he didn’t feel compelled to. Maybe five minutes later he said something and you just nodded in his direction, encouraging him to continue.

For the first time in a long time, he talked. And you listened.

It became a ritual between the two of you, staying up late at night just to chat. It wasn’t always about his past, sometimes he just needed to let it all out, and you were the perfect outlet. He felt like you didn’t judge him, and that’s all he ever needed.

Eventually he wanted to hear you too—he preferred it that way. Talking about lesson plans and movies, little things that seem mundane but made him feel less like a patient and more like a friend. You were a welcome distraction, and an added bonus was that you were really cute when you were talking.

He was the one who made the first move. He remembers every detail, from your pajama shorts to the over-worn tank top sliding off your shoulder, your eyes bright as you went on about a new baking recipe you wanted to try. Sat on your bed, looking so relaxed he couldn’t help but stare and marvel at your beauty.

“Logan?” You ask, waving your hand in his face. “Hello? Earth to Wolverine?”

The moment you called out his name he was already making his way to your bed. The mattress sinks beneath his weight, and you let out a soft noise of surprise before he plants his lips against yours.

Yours are soft compared to him—everything about you screams softness, innocence and purity, and he’s not sure if a man like him even has the right to be next to you, much less kiss you. He’s certain his soul is filthy, tainted—a layer of black that’s sure to muck up your own if he keeps this up. He knows this deep in his heart, but greedy man that he is, he keeps his lips locked to yours.

Once, and then never again. He can’t be with a girl like you, and he knows it.

You hold him by the neck and pull him back when he tries to leave your embrace. Maybe it’s pity, he thinks, the way your hands tug him by the shirt and cling onto the fabric. Maybe you’re only entertaining him, stringing him along just to laugh in his face, mock him into ever thinking he had a chance. If you are, he doesn't care, because at least now he’s got a taste of what he could never have.

The two of you finally separate, a silk-thread of spit connecting the both of you, looking at each other with a mixture of shock and confusion. What happens after this? How does he return to what you had before—how can he, when he now knows your chapstick tastes like cherries?

He makes a move to leave, but against all odds your hand is still clinging onto his shirt. In that moment he knew he was the luckiest man alive because you begged him to stay in that cute voice of yours, begged him not to leave when his hands made their way up the front of your shirt—begged him for more when his lips wandered lower.

By your thirties you already had a shiny ring on your finger, one that he can say he proudly put on your finger. A gold band adorned by diamonds, it shines in the orange light of the sun, staring at you from its red-velvet housing. 

It’s the first time the X-Men see him cry, tears running down his face when you run into his arms screaming yes, yes, over and over as he holds you in his arms, sunset illuminating your features. He always thinks of you as beauty personified, but watching you admire the diamond-studded band with awe—the one thing that signifies you as his—he can’t help but look at you like icarus does to the sun.

The wedding was small—neither of you minded. Hank was the ringbearer, and Charles walked you down the aisle, and when your vows were said and done the priest could barely finish the ceremony before Logan lunged forward and kissed you, dipping you at the altar accompanied with a cheer from the people you consider your family.

Scott has the video saved on his phone. He pretends it pisses him off, but he had Jean send him a copy later. Sometimes he watches it when he thinks you’re asleep, but little does he know you are very much awake.

In your fourties’ you have a house together, somewhere upstate where no one can bother you. A cozy wooden home where it’s just you and him, relaxing by the fireplace and watching tv every day. When he’s not helping the X-Men he works at a local lumber yard, the highlight of his day being when he comes to work, grabbing his equipment from the truck. 

His co-workers jeer at him every time, call him whipped like butter, but they wouldn’t understand what he feels. He certainly doesn’t seem to care, especially when it’s your kiss pressed to his cheek.

He can safely say his life is perfect. It’s domestic, it’s everything Logan ever dreamed of, everything he thought he could never have—and it’s all thanks to you. He wakes up every morning grateful to you for giving him the greatest gift he could ever receive: serenity. 

Between the fairytale ending and his rose-colored glasses, he doesn’t notice it, not until you’re in your fifties and he’s—he’s not.

You’re aging, and he’s staying the same.

You still love each other and he’d never, ever, think about leaving you, but the realization sticks with him. He thinks about it late at night while you sleep next to him, pressed against his side. Your scent, your touch, he memorizes it all because he doesn’t know when he won’t be able to feel it again.

In your heart you know it too, but you don’t say anything—you don’t want to scare him away. He’s only just begun to get used to normalcy, and you don’t want to take that away from him. You don’t want to watch him fall into the honeyed trap of isolation again, return to that shell of a man you only just helped him shed.

So when you’re watching tv together, he makes sure to cradle you to his chest extra tight. When you’re sitting by the fireplace, heat radiating off your skin, he makes sure to memorize the way the fire illuminates your face. When you’re whispering his name after a night of love-making he etches the sound deep into his synapses, memorizing each syllable.

No matter what, he’ll remember you.

By your sixties you’re faced with an awful truth, one neither of you want to admit but your smile lines and crows feet stand contrast to his barely aging face. You get stares when you mention he’s your husband, some curious, some judging. You were called a cougar once by a shopper, finger pointed accusatory while Logan told her in no uncertain terms to go fuck herself.

He was there to reassure you then, but he can’t be there all the time. You don’t tell him that this wasn’t the first time you were accused of being a predator, and you don’t plan on doing so. 

Maybe this counts as acceptance, faced with the truth in the worst kind of way, but at least the both of you can say it out loud now—

You’re going to die, and he’s going to outlive you. It’s just a fact, but it still makes the both of you terrified.

Your seventies are rocky—you want to enjoy the time you have left, but Logan wants to make sure you’re safe. In his eyes you know he has only love for you, but you can see the fear in them too, how he coddles you every day. Your bones are starting to ache, you’re getting slower. Where you used to go on hikes with him you now choose to stay home, your stamina not like what it used to be. He thinks you don’t notice how he watches you carefully around the house, how he’s so eager to help you. You’re flattered, but also annoyed—it’s a short-lived train of thought when you look at him.

He still looks at you like he did when you first kissed. 

He still loves you, and you still love him. For now, that’s all you need.

He finds you on the floor in your eighties—eighty-three, to be exact.

The moment he sees your resting form behind the counter he sprints into the kitchen. There’s broken glass, a trail of blood running from your temple, and you’re completely out of it, eyes closed shut. He calls your name, shakes you, but nothing. He knows you’re still alive, he can hear your heart beating but he can feel how weak it is under his clammy hands, the soft thump nowhere near as strong as it should be.

He doesn’t know what to do—he’s long since been familiar with blood but this time it’s you, and he’s panicking. He doesn’t know what to do.

The ambulance arrives, longer than usual because you live far away from the city. Maybe if they’d gotten there faster they would have been able to do an infusion. Maybe if the phone wasn’t so far you’d be able to call 9-1-1 before you passed out. Maybe if he was at home he would’ve been able to see the early signs—

“Sir? Are you alright?”

He looks at the clock on the bedside wall: 7:38 pm. 

It’s well into the night, five hours have passed since you were admitted, and an hour since you died.

He’s been staring at your body for who knows how long. The doctor pronounced you dead, said you had a heart attack and hit your head on the way down. An accident.

A fucking accident.

“Sir, was she related to you?” The young nurse asks, contemplating whether or not she should even speak. Wordlessly, he nods.

“I understand you’re grieving,” she continues, standing at his side. Her words are full of empathy, none of which he needs but lets her speak anyway. “I saw on your hospital logs you share the same name, I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose a loved one.”

He nods again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old was she?”

“…eighty-three.” He answers. “Her birthday was in a month.”

She shakes her head. “That’s a shame.”

“It sure is,” He says, reaching out to touch her hand. It’s cold to the touch, a cruel reminder. “It sure is.”

You would’ve been eighty-four now.

He still lives in the same house but it’s not the same without you. It’s lifeless, empty—all the love you poured into the decor now just an awful reminder of what he lost. He thinks about tearing it all down sometimes but he knows you’d probably kick his ass if he so much as touched your crystal vases.

Your side of the bedroom is untouched, he moved all his stuff to the separate one the week after you died. It hurts to sleep there knowing you’re gone, but sometimes he’ll sit by the nightstand, a drink in hand and stare at the empty spot where you would be. Sometimes if he stares hard enough, he can see you through tear-rimmed eyes, hear your laughter through the dull buzz of the alcohol.

He misses you. He’s not sure if he’ll ever stop.

He doesn’t know what possesses him, but he opens your closet. It’s an indulgence, a moment of weakness—he promised he wouldn’t touch your stuff and here he is, rummaging about. 

Coats, dresses, shirts, all memories flooding back to him as he moves past them. The black dress you wore on your first date, the sundress you wore for your anniversary—

When his fingers brush against the lace, his heart lurches. He doesn’t need to see it to know, but he tugs anyway, revealing your wedding dress hidden deep inside. The most beautiful thing you’ve ever worn.

He takes the gown between reverent hands, as if the fabric would fall apart, disintegrate if he was anything but cautious with it. It still smells like you.

He finds the box labeled “wedding” next to it, and without hesitation pulls it from its corner. Wedding invites, flowers, old videos, everything that you could have taken as a memory, you had it. You even kept the cake toppers.

What surprises him though, is a notebook. It’s tiny, leather bound and slightly worn, every page a new entry. He flips to the first page and his heart nearly stops.

Dear Logan,

If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead.

His eyes widened. When did you write this? The small book suddenly feels like lead in his hands, it’s a struggle to pull his eyes back to the ink-stained pages, but he does so anyway.

I hope I managed to give this to you before I pass. I wish I could explain to you how much I love you, and how much I worry about you. You’re a stubborn asshole, could never see the good in yourself but I did—I still do. I’ve known you for thirty years now so I’m willing to bet you’re probably reading this drunk, blaming yourself for my death.

He doesn’t know when he started crying but your words make him laugh through the pain, wiping the palm of his hand against his cheek. He used to say you were secretly a telepath, always able to read his mind. Seems it’s a talent that extends beyond the grave.

Anyway, rambling aside, I wanted to give you something to remember me by. You’re going to live longer than I am, we both know that: but maybe my memory can live along with you.

His hands are shaking, fingers stumbling through the next page with bated breath.

Entry one, not sure how I should start…I’ll figure it out later. Your beard grew out a little so I offered to help you shave…

I think I did a shit job but you didn’t seem to mind, or maybe you were trying to save my feelings? I don't know which one. In any case remember to take care of yourself, I might be gone but like hell if I’m gonna let you let yourself go!

Attached with a paperclip is a photo of the two of you in the bathroom, you smushing his face while he stares at the camera annoyed, or at least it seems. There’s a hint of a smile on his face.

He remembers that day. You were cuddling him and complained his beard was scratchy. He let you sit on his lap while you gave him a trim, you said your lines were crooked but he didn’t give a shit—he had you all to himself, and that’s all he needed.

A small huff of laughter escapes him, even in the afterlife you’re still bossing him around. He flips to the next page—

Entry two, don’t isolate yourself! I know you Logan, that lone wolf shit doesn’t work and you know it too! When’s the last time you talked to the other X-Men, huh?

Your words rattle in his head, feelings of guilt blooming. They call occasionally, but he never picks up. Charles is the only one he ever gave the time of day and even then the mention of your passing is a sore subject. One time Scott showed up at his house, helped him clean up a bit before leaving; he never said thank you.

His eyes flick to the phone on his nightstand before continuing to read. 

Entry three, don’t starve yourself! I left a couple of my recipes in the last pages, just in case you missed my cooking…

Entry four, I have a secret album of us on my phone. The password is…

Entry five, stop being so hard on yourself…

Entry after entry, all stories with advice for when you’re gone. Clean up after himself, don’t try to find peace at the bottom of a bottle, remember to find a hobby…every single page, accompanied by a description of what you did that day. Went hiking, went on a dinner date, stayed at home and watched tv—almost an entire year's worth of reminiscing in the form of a tiny brown journal.

By the time he got to the last one the sun had begun to rise. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but the thought of stopping never crossed his mind.

The big three-six-five, happy anniversary! It’s been a year since I started this project and I think I should end it here, so I’ll end it with the best advice I can give you.

Logan, you need to move on.

I know it hurts, but I’m gone, and you can’t spend your life chasing after a woman who isn’t here anymore. You deserve more in life than to grieve. I love you more than anything in the world, which is why I’m telling you it’s okay to move on.

I’ll always be with you, so don’t think that you need to feel guilty. I know you love me, and I love you.

I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

He re-reads your words. Once, twice, even three times before they really sink in. I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself, and let me go.

At that moment it all comes crashing down on him. Your death, the funeral, the pain and longing, the grief—all of it. Everything he’d ever tried to push aside by drinking, culminating into this single release of emotion.

He cries. A full-bodied, pathetic display, he sobbed while holding your last memory to his chest until he was red in the face, until his lungs burned. He sobbed until he had no more tears to give, then sobbed some more.

Even in death, you were still listening.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I definitely need more Dad!Logan and or Pregnant!Reader! Anyway we can get something where Logan and the reader are married and they are teaching at the school (different classes) when the reader suddenly passes out during a lesson and it causes a frenzy and when she’s taken to med bay and tests are ran, it’s discovered she’s pregnant and she hadn’t been showing any symptoms until she passed out? From there we see some sweet moments through her pregnancy (also would it be Logan if he didn’t threaten Scott for getting too close to his family? 🤣)

sight to see

a/n: love this sm anon

Warnings: pregnancy, dad!logan

It started off as a seemingly normal day, you say bye to Logan, giving him a kiss before you walked into your classroom, where all your students “ooohed” at you, causing your cheeks to heat and your eyes to roll, waving them off.

The lesson had started normal as well, you pointing to the chalkboard in front of you, making sure they were writing it down.

“So-“ you paused, suddenly feeling a wave of lightheadedness, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Mrs. Howlett? Are you okay?” You heard one of your students ask worriedly, all of them staring at you in confusion.

You smiled, swallowing before nodding, and trying to continue on with the lesson. Your ears rung, your vision getting slightly blurry, and your breathing picking up.

You suddenly dropped to the floor, the lead thing you heard being your students concerned voices in the back.

“Listen, kid, that’s not my prob-“ Logan stopped his sentence upon seeing multiple students rush into his classroom, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, hearing all their voices overlapping as they spoke.

“Woah, woah, woah, one at a fucking time.”

“Mrs. Howlett, she fainted in the middle of a lesson.” He heard one student say, to which he immediately shoved through the other students blocking him, practically running to your door.

He slammed it open, seeing Charles and Jean over you. He swallowed thickly, looking to the both of them.

“What the fuck happened? Is she okay?” He asked, walking over to them.

“She’s breathing, she’s fine. I just might need to take her down to the lab, run some tests.” Jean responded.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, running a hand through his hair, following Jean and the professor down to the lab.

Jean and Hank looked at the screen and then at each other. Logan sat impatiently next to you, his leg bouncing up and down, his hand holding yours.

Hank finally walked out and over to the both of you, Logan looking at him for answers.

“If what we’re seeing is…correct,” he glanced down at the picture in front of him before speaking. “Y/n is pregnant. 5 weeks pregnant.”

“What?” Logan spoke, confused out of his mind at the moment, in disbelief. “That’s not…. She hasn’t been showin’ any signs or nothing, I don’t- are you sure?”

“Uh.. here.” He handed him the picture, pointing to a little figure that showed up.

He looked at the picture and then at you, sighing and falling back into the chair, holding his face in his hands. He wasn’t prepared for this at all.

Hank swallowed, and decided to walk away, letting him think for a moment.

It was then that you woke up, letting out a groan and your other hand going to your head.

He looked up at you, standing up and going to your side.

“What the hell happened?” You asked groggily while he leaned down to press his lips to your forehead.

“You fainted. Your kids came in and told me.”

You sighed, looking up at him. He still held your hand in his, he sat back down.

“What? Why’d i faint?”

He sighed again, staring at you while he spoke in a low tone. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m what?!” You squealed, whether out of confusion, happiness, or fear, you had no clue. Jean and Hank quickly came back in when they heard you were awake, explaining everything much better and clearer.

It took Logan a while to come around to the idea, to fully accept and grasp the fact that he was going to be a fucking dad. It seemed like something straight out of a dream to him. Something he never thought he would have.

He loved you, he always would. And although he was scared, he knew you were probably just as scared- if not more. That first night you found out, he fell asleep with his arms wrapped around your stomach in the small med-bay bed.

And for the remaining months, he was careful, he was even more doting. All the kids loved to tease him, calling him whipped and such. He just told them to shut up, but they never missed that small smile on his face.

And of course, once the baby did finally pop out, she was the most adorable little thing. Logan adored her. He never wanted to let go of her.

It was a sight to see, the usually gruff Logan howlett being soft with his wife and tiny baby.

He was the most overprotective dad and husband ever- especially when it came to Scott. He caught him looking at the both of you once, and he pulled out his claws.

But you would have it no other way, really. <3

[rosemariiaa]

~Holding On~

pairing- Paige x Azzi

a/n: not really much to say.. but this was kind of sad to write. I’m taking requests for a while until I start on something new , so send what you want to read lovelies 💌

Anon Request: • can u write pazzi oneshot where paige has thanatophobia and has panic attack and azzi id there to comfort her •

themes: fear of dying

Enjoy!!!

The apartment was quiet, but inside Paige’s head, it felt anything but. Her breathing was shallow, erratic—her hands trembling as her mind spiraled down a dark, endless tunnel. The walls felt like they were closing in on her, the fear wrapping itself around her chest like a vice. She was trying to keep it together, but it was slipping, all of it slipping.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it. The end. That moment when everything just… stops. What if it came sooner than she thought? What if she wasn’t ready? What if she left everything and everyone behind?

Her chest tightened, her heartbeat thrumming too fast, too loud. She pressed her back against the cool wall of her room, gasping for air that didn’t seem to reach her lungs. The world felt like it was fading, like she was falling, and she couldn’t stop it.

Azzi wasn’t supposed to come over tonight. Paige had tried to be normal during practice, tried to laugh and joke like always. But the moment she was alone, it crept back in. And now it was suffocating her. Somehow, through the fog of her thoughts, she heard her phone buzz. Azzi. She didn’t have the strength to answer it.

Then, the door opened. Paige’s breathing hitched when she heard Azzi’s voice, soft but concerned. “Paige? You didn’t answer my texts. You okay?”

Azzi’s eyes immediately landed on Paige, crumpled on the floor, her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around herself as if trying to hold her body together.

“Oh my God, Paige,” Azzi whispered, rushing to her side.

Paige couldn’t even speak. She could barely breathe. She felt a cold sweat trickling down her spine, her vision swimming. Her mind was racing, chaotic and frantic, screaming things she couldn’t control.

Azzi dropped to her knees beside Paige, her own panic rising, but she pushed it down. She needed to be strong right now. Gently, she cupped Paige’s face in her hands, forcing her to meet her eyes. “Hey, hey… I’m right here. You’re okay. Breathe with me, okay?”

Paige’s eyes were wide, unfocused, but she tried to latch onto Azzi’s voice. It was like a lifeline, a rope pulling her from the deep end, but it was hard. Everything was hard.

“I can’t,” Paige managed to choke out, her voice raw, broken. “I can’t… Azzi, I… it’s like… I can’t stop thinking about it. I feel like I’m going to die. I— “You’re not going to die,” Azzi said firmly, though her voice cracked with emotion. She wrapped her arms around Paige, pulling her close, holding her as tightly as she could. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Paige’s body shook as she collapsed into Azzi’s embrace, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Azzi held her, one hand stroking her hair, the other rubbing circles on her back. She didn’t say anything for a while, just let Paige cry, let her panic run its course. The weight of the fear was crushing, suffocating.

“I’m scared,” Paige finally whispered, her voice so small it almost broke Azzi’s heart.

“I know, baby. I know,” Azzi whispered back. “But you’re not alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

They sat like that for what felt like hours, the weight of Paige’s fear slowly lifting, little by little. Her breathing started to even out, though the trembling in her hands remained. She could feel Azzi’s heartbeat against her own chest, steady, grounding her in a way she hadn’t thought was possible.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Azzi asked quietly, her fingers still running through Paige’s hair.

Paige didn’t answer at first. She didn’t know where to begin, how to explain what it felt like to be so terrified of the end—so terrified of something inevitable. Finally, she whispered, “I think about it all the time. About dying. About not being here anymore. It’s like this… weight. I try to ignore it, but sometimes it just… it takes over. And tonight, I just—” Her voice broke, and she clutched Azzi tighter. “It’s too much.”

Azzi closed her eyes, trying to keep herself from crying. She hated seeing Paige like this, so vulnerable, so scared. “You don’t have to go through this alone,” she said softly. “I know it feels like you’re carrying it all by yourself, but I’m here. Always.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Paige whispered, her voice barely audible.

“You won’t,” Azzi said, her voice fierce, determined. “You’re stuck with me, okay? Forever, if I have anything to say about it.” Paige gave a shaky laugh, though it was more out of exhaustion than amusement. “Forever, huh?”

“Forever,” Azzi confirmed, leaning down to press a kiss to Paige’s forehead. “We’re in this together.”

Paige nodded, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She didn’t feel okay, not completely. The fear was still there, lurking in the back of her mind, but it felt… manageable, at least for now. With Azzi holding her, it didn’t feel like it was swallowing her whole.

“I love you,” Paige whispered, her voice soft and fragile.

Azzi’s heart swelled, and she kissed the top of Paige’s head again, pulling her even closer. “I love you too. And I’m going to be here, no matter how hard it gets. You don’t have to be scared alone.”

They stayed like that, tangled together on the floor, the world outside their small apartment fading away. For now, it was just the two of them, holding onto each other through the storm. And for the first time in a long time, Paige didn’t feel quite so afraid.

————-

tags: @thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner 💌

[froggiewrites]

saw you had requests open! would you be willing to do Ace + a reader with back pain that can keep them from doing things they usually enjoy? totally cool if not! love ur stuff ^-^

Thank you for the request!! I hope you enjoy this one anon, I tried to make it sweet and comforting for you. 💙

Pain Relief

Pairing: Ace x Reader

SFW

Summary: Your pain stops you from enjoying today's festivities, and Ace tries to comfort you. Warnings: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain Word Count: 1.2k

You’re having one of your bad days.

Sometimes you can push through just fine, the pain nothing more than a minor hindrance eating away at your edges while you work. Other days it’s a bit harder, holding you back from more difficult tasks, forcing you to stop and leave some things halfway done. And some days are like today, where you spend most of it laying face first on your bed, holding back tears. At this point you can’t tell if they’re from the pain or the disappointment of missing out on yet another feast, yet another party, yet another thing you cannot do.

It almost hurts more how kind everyone is about it. You’ve never asked for any kind of accommodation, but you still find your crewmates trying to help where they can. Yesterday Marco assured you he has a stash of painkillers just for you the moment you need them. You thanked him, even though they don’t seem to help much on days like this. Today, you’re greeted by thundering footsteps and the delicious smell of the feast from above growing closer and closer; Thatch has personally come to bring you a plate.

“Doing any better?” His voice is soft, hesitant to break the silence that surrounds you.

You left out a groan of pain when you attempt to sit up to face him.

“I see.” You can hear the sympathy pouring from him, as well as the gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder urging you not to move. The plate appears on the nightstand right next to your head, filled to the brim with all of your favorites. Some spicy, some sweet, some savory, all of it combining into a smell so mouthwatering you’re able to bring yourself to move, if only to shift closer to your feast. “I tried to make sure I got all of your favorites. If you want anything else, I can bring it down later.” He sets a glass of water down as well.

“Thanks, Thatch. I really appreciate it.” Your voice is a little wobbly, strained from the pain, and while you can’t see him wince you can almost feel it.

“No problem. I’ll…leave you to it, if you don’t need anything else.”

You would kill for some company right now, some distraction from the pain. But you hate the idea of being a bother, of tearing anyone else away from the action you so desperately wish to be a part of, so instead of voicing your needs you simply give a pained smile. “I’m alright. Thanks, though.”

He hesitates a moment, and you wonder if he’ll stay, but he sighs quietly. “Alright. Someone else’ll be down soon to check on you.”

He makes his way back upstairs, and you manage to reach out for your plate to grab a small piece of bread, which you immediately shove in your mouth. Normally you would try to savor it, but your stomach is grumbling, and your pain is demanding your attention, and there’s tears stinging your eyes. At least with this you can pretend just for a moment that you’re on deck, feeling fine, surrounded by your friends and their warmth.

“Enjoying that?” Ace’s voice is familiar and jovial, and a shiver runs up your spine the moment you hear him. The door closes softly behind him, and in an instant you can feel his weight on the bed. His hand rests lightly on your leg, bringing you more peace than you’ve felt all day.

“Yeah.” The word struggles to get out around the bread, but you manage, and he quietly laughs at the sound and sight of your cheeks stuffed full.

“Good. You deserve it.” He picks up another piece of bread, holding it in front of your face, pushing it close to your mouth. “Come on, enjoy another.”

You swallow, then open your mouth. He delicately places the piece on your tongue, fingers brushing your lips, before he pulls back. “Do you mind some company for a while?”

“Wha?” Your mouth is still stuffed full, and he chuckles again, laying down next to you.

“Do you mind if I stay down here with you? I’ve missed you.” He’s looking at you not with the pity you expected, or any sort of sympathy. His eyes are filled with nothing but pure and honest affection as he regards you.

You nod.

“Perfect!” He leans in, snuggling closer to you. One of his hands brushes against your back, and you wince, before he presses more firmly, making you cry out and squirm. “No, just one moment. I promise it’ll help.”

You don’t understand what he means, too lost in your own discomfort, before you feel a warmth spreading from his palm and into your skin. It doesn’t make the pain disappear, but for a moment, when you close your eyes, you can pretend it isn’t there. You can focus instead on the feeling of Ace laying beside you, his large hands on your back, his quiet pleased humming as he realizes he’s been successful in helping you.

You expect him to say something about how you can’t go upstairs, how he’s sorry you’re stuck down here while everyone else has fun. Instead, he whispers, “Thank you for letting me stay.” Like you’re doing him a favor. Like his presence here is just because he wants to be.

“Thank you for staying.” Your voice wobbles with emotion, though you try to hold it back. You grab the hand that isn’t on your back, holding it close, clinging to him like a lifeline.

He chuckles. “You don’t have to thank me for that, sunshine. I’d give anything to be here with you. No one else on this ship compares. No one else in the world.” He presses closer, his nose pressing into your neck. “You’re worth a thousand of these feasts.”

You hold his hand tighter. “I still wish I could go. I was really looking forward to this one.”

“There will be other parties.”

You can’t keep the sorrow from your voice. “But they won’t be this one.”

He doesn’t deny that. “But there will be parties. And for this one?” His hand gets a little warmer, relaxing your muscles and making your eyes droop. “For this one I’ll be right here with you. And we won’t have to worry about anything anyone else is doing. You’ll be too busy enjoying my company.” He almost giggles at that last one, and you can feel his nose crinkle as he says it, smile wide and uninhibited as it presses against your skin.

"So true,” you murmur, fighting a smile. “How could I ever want anything else?” It’s almost embarrassing how much you mean it, but he can’t see the blush on your face, so you don’t bother holding back your dorky, toothy grin. You’re melting into his touch, starting to forget the loneliness, the grief at what you’ve lost tonight, however small in the grand scheme of things. The only thing that matters right now is Ace, his warmth, his touch, his voice as he happily tells you whatever silly story he thinks will catch your attention at the time. By the end of the night, curled into his side, his warm hand rubbing soothing circles onto your lower back, you almost forget about the party above deck, or any of the world outside of this room.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[giggly-squiggily]

I just KNOWWWW Akazas stripes are so ticklish! They have to be! Anything Lee Akaza throw my way 😫

I. Love. This. Headcanon. I love it! My god I can't even begin to count the ways I adore this silly thought of Akaza having the most ticklish stripes on the planet! I've gotcha covered, anons!

Cloud 9 (Taglist peeps):

@myreygn @thatbigbisexual29 @duckymcdoorknob @wolfyeatstacos @gladdygirl18 @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @t-wordiiish @sarahmaystock5578 @rachi-roo @mystwrites @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @giggly-toybox

Kokushibou tried to be subtle in his staring. Hard to do given he had six eyes, but he tried all the same.

Before him, Akaza was spacing out, openly ignoring Douma and his constant chatter. Leaned back on his arms, his bright blue stripes were on proper display for all to see. Normally such a sight wouldn’t entertain the highest moon, but after recent events, they were the only thing on his mind.

“He gets so giggly when you trace them!”

He had heard about Akaza’s supposive ticklish stripes. It seemed almost everyone within the Kizuki had tried it at least once, earning various reactions from the red headed demon. Most walked away with temporary injuries; the exception being Rui. Akaza’s soft spot for the spider was as clear as the blue within his markings.

Once again, he found himself staring. So long so when he looked up, Akaza was staring back.

Silence. Moments passed that felt like hours at their stare down. Eventually, Akaza looked away. He always did first.

Kokushibou blinked, his attention shifting once more to Douma nearby. He was staring now, a knowing look in his eyes and a teasing smile.

Without breaking eye contact, he reached out and traced one of his long nails against a stripe.

“Sh-” Akaza all but jerked at the touch, twisting to snarl at the blonde. Douma laughed like a child, unfazed as he was grabbed and shaken by the angry demon.

That settled it. Kokushibou had to see what this was all about.

~~~

It took awhile, but eventually Kokushibou had him just where he wanted him.

“This better be important. What do you want, anyway?” Akaza growled as he sat before the demon, voice only just shaking beneath his anger.

Kokushibou decided to ignore it as he carried on with his plan. “I wish to ask a favor of you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. It seems everyone else has had a turn trying it, but I’ve yet to myself.” He leaned forward for emphasis, eye glinting with intrigue. “Would you be so kind as to let me have a go?”

Akaza blinked, taking in what he was saying. When it finally hit, he scrambled back- wide eyed and sputtery. “W-Whoa whoa hang on! Who told you- why do you- absolutely not!” He folded his arms across his chest, pulling his vest over himself even tighter. “There’s no way I’m just gonna sit there and let you-”

“I won’t force you.” Kokushibou cut in, calm as ever. “You and I both know if I wanted to do that, I’d already have you on the floor. I’m that much stronger than you.”

Akaza rolled his eyes at the reminder, still guarded. Kokushibou held up a hand in surrender.

“I assure you I have no intentions of testing it without your consent. If you truly don’t want me to do it, I’ll leave you be.” Kokushibou folded his hands once more, flat against his knees in a show of honesty. “That is all I have to say.”

Akaza stared, trying to find the lie in the demon’s teeth. There was none. Kokushibou was being genuine. A rare thing among them, but it did its job at lowering his walls. Groaning low, he came closer until he was sitting beside the six-eyed demon. “Five minutes.”

“I beg your pardon?” Kokushibou blinked.

“Five minutes. I’ll give you that much time to have your fill tickling me. After that, we never talk about this again.” Akaza wouldn’t look at him, but his expression was clearly a reluctant pout. “Fair enough for you?”

Kokushibou stared. “Are you certain?”

“I wouldn’t still be sitting here if I wasn’t.” Akaza gestured him to get on with it, his pout deepening as he looked anywhere but there. “Times a ticking- get your fill and I’m out.”

“Wouldn’t it be more fair to only start the clock when I actually tickle you?” Kokushibou asked, amusement touching his tone as he turned on his knees, reaching out. Before Akaza could respond, he trailed a single finger along the bright blue band against his bicep.

“Eeeh!” Akaza jerked at the touch, frowning lips twitching. Kokushibou did it again. “Ehehem-mmph!” He bit his lip, trying to muffle the sound of his growing giggles building up in his chest.

“Just a touch and you’re already laughing.” The six eyed demon mused, daring to add a nail to the mix. “Is this your worst spot, or are you just anticipating what’s to come?”

“Shuuhuht up! Gahhaha!” Akaza went to swing at him, but Kokushibou was far too fast. He easily grabbed the fist coming his way with one hand, raising it up and giving himself more access to tickle spots. “Nohohoho, don’t! Gehahaha, yoohohu fuhuhucker!”

“Such language. I hope you don’t say such things infront of Rui.” Kokushibou chided as he clawed his fingers, dragging them along the stripes lining Akaza’s side. The reaction was near instant- the redhead went tumbling to the right with a loud cackle. “Knowing you, however- I shouldn’t worry about such things. You’ve always had quite the soft spot for him.”

“Whahahht’s thahahhat suhuhuhhoohohohsed to mehahahahen? Jehehahhaalous muhuhuhuch?” Akaza snarked through his laughter, torn between blocking with his free arm or swinging with the other.

“A little bit.” Kokushibou didn’t elaborate. Instead he dared a finger down the center stripe along Akaza’s chest. Akaza all but flew backwards at the touch, barking out a shrill laugh.

“GAHHAHA!” Losing all balance, Akaza hit the ground back first as he flailed about, shrieking with mirth while Kokushibou closed the gap. Fingers carried on tracing the lines along his torso, unyielding and devastatingly ticklish. “SOHOHOHOON OF A BIHIHIHIIHTCH! YOHOHOHOOHU SIHIIHIHXED EHEHEHEYED FREAHHAHAHK, CUHUHUUHUT IT OHOHOHOUT!”

“It seems tickling makes you more bold.” Kokushibou chided without malice, a rare smile pulling at his lips as he focused his efforts on the stripes running along his upper ribs, making Akaza flail and go near silent with mirth. “Six-eyed freak, huh? Is that what you call me when I’m not around?”

“GAHAHAHAH! I’M SHAHAHRRY! I’M SHAHAHHARRY NOW STAHHAHAHAP!” Akaza all but shrieked, voice fading in and out as he threw a tantrum against the ground. He was sure he looked a right mess, eyes wet and face aching from that ever permanent smile. He wanted to rip off his skin and shake out the feeling until it was gone in the wind.

And yet- a part of him was having fun. A small part of him- ever present. Damn his once beating heart for enjoying this.

“Has it been five minutes already? Shame, and I was just getting to the good part.” Kokushibou hummed as he pulled away, folding his hands neatly in his lap while he watched Akaza roll around with a groan. “I found that quite enjoyable though, Akaza. Thank you for letting me have a turn.”

“Ugh, whatever. You’re just lucky I’m nice.” Akaza quipped back. The words stunned him though- a memory of himself saying that same exact phrasing to a young woman flashing through his mind.

“Akaza?” Kokushibou asked, his teasing tone fading into one of concern. Akaza blinked, reaching up and holding his brow.

“I’m fine.” He assured, sitting up quickly and facing the older demon. “I’m fine, really. Just…this whole thing is weird. You’re weird.” He winced some- he sounded like a bumbling fool. “Not that..that’s really a bad thing though.”

Kokushibou’s various eyes widened, taken aback by the comment. Akaza quickly twisted on his heels to escape. “You remember the deal! This never happened, you hear me bug eyes?”

He ran before he could be caught, flying down the halls and towards his usual hideout. Maybe it was his exhaustion, but he swore he could hear the faintest of chuckles from the room he escaped.

Yeah. Definitely his imagination.

Thanks for reading!

[sturnsdc]

You look beautiful

pair: Carl Grimes x fem!reader

warnings: TWD scenes, just fluff, slight angst, awkward and embarrassing Carl and Yn, beginning of what could be smut.

words: 2,6k

A/N: thanks @livingdeadgirlflorette and anon for giving two wonderful ideas. I'm really sorry that the story came out so short and shitty, but i still hope that some part of it is good enough !! <3 

both are +16

dividers from @cafekitsune ! ♡

main masterlist              carl masterlist

CARL'S POV

"you're going out… to get medical supplies… with her? just the two of you?" Michonne asked me once more, and i had to hold back the urge to roll my eyes. Still, i know she senses my annoyance because she laughed and spoke again, "in my day, we called that something else, but okay." I chuckled a bit at her comment and lightly hit her arm to make her stop teasing.

she’s always like this ever since she found out about my feelings for Yn. She seizes every moment to make a comment or give me a look. And it got worse once my dad found out. It only took a few hours for the rest of the group to know. Everyone except her…

but can anyone really blame me? when we arrived in Alexandria, there was a group of teenagers like me—two boys and two girls. She didn’t seem to fit in with them and only talked to her friend Enid. However, when Ron introduced us, she gave me the biggest smile and started talking to me.

she’s so sweet and beautiful, but at first, i couldn’t understand what was happening to me. She started appearing in my dreams, in different scenarios that made me wake up with my heart racing, followed by a strange feeling of emptiness when i realized it had only been a dream. Then she was present everywhere, even without physically being there. In every conversation, in every thought, everything started reminding me of her.

i started noticing her more, and our conversations were no longer enough. So, i began stealing glances at her now and then—when she studied, when she helped with chores, and when she began sneaking out, just like i’d seen Enid do on several occasions. That's when curiosity got the better of me, and i started sneaking out after her, discovering her little secret.

she would climb up to what looked like a treehouse, a bit far from Alexandria, and i thought she hadn’t noticed me. But just as i was about to take another step, her voice surprised me.

“should i be worried that you’re following me, Carl?” she asked, though i didn’t hear any anger in her voice. She sat on a branch at the entrance to the small treehouse, looking down at me.

i remember stuttering as i tried to come up with an excuse, but she just laughed and invited me to come up. She showed me her safe space, and with that, she let me see a side of her that no one else knew. From that moment on, we became closer, and my feelings just grew and grew until they were undeniable.

when Ron shot me that day, i thought it was all over, that she would stay away or wouldn’t even be able to look at me anymore. I wouldn't have blamed her if she did; it took me weeks before i could even look at myself in the mirror again. Why would i expect her to see me as the same Carl as before?

but she did. She held my face in her hands and wiped away my tears again and again.

so, can anyone really blame me?

“earth to Carl, earth to Carl. Please return from Ynland,” Michonne's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. She's looking at me with an eyebrow raised, and all i could do was look away, embarrassed.

“sorry, i got distracted. What were you saying?”

“that you should already be heading to your ‘supply run’ with your dear friend,” she said, emphasizing ‘dear friend.’

‘oh, fuck.’ i opened my eyes wide.

“goodbye,” i said hurriedly, running to my house to grab the bag i had left by the door. Once i had it, i rushed back to the entrance of Alexandria, where she was waiting by the car we were going to take. “Sorry, sorry.”

"'s okay, i just got here anyway," she said, then smiled in that beautiful way she always does, almost making me sigh. "Let's go?"

“yeah, sure,” i replied, trying to snap out of my daze, quickly tossing my bag into the back seat and getting into the passenger seat. She followed my lead, settling into the driver’s.

it’s not the first time we’ve been in a car together, but it is the first time i’m not driving. Still, i’d trust her with my life.

YN'S POV

i try not to look at him too much, but it's almost impossible. It's like there’s a magnet pulling my eyes toward him every second. I just need to control myself enough not to crash the car.

it’s the first time we’ve gone on a run alone together, and i can only remember Maggie and Glenn’s words:

"don't devour him with your eyes, at least not right away," Maggie told me, almost like advice, while Glenn laughed beside her and i started to blush.

"yeah, wait until you’re in a quieter place," he added.

‘i can barely look at him without blushing and feeling butterflies, and they expect me to make a move? hell nah.’

"you know, plaid shirts look good on you," Carl suddenly said, and i had to resist the urge to slam on the brakes. We had only been driving in silence for a few minutes, but not only did he startle me, when i understood what he said, i started blushing like never before. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, feeling my legs tremble. ‘how can you say that so easily?’

"thanks… i guess i’m copying your style now," i tried to joke to hide my nervousness. I don't know if i succeeded, but he let out a small laugh, nodding.

"it’s true, you’re copying me," he teased.

"it’s because you’re too cool," i said, and from the corner of my eye, i noticed his surprised reaction. His whole body seemed to tense up. But before he could respond, i had to stop the car—we had reached our destination. It had taken us a long time to get there because it was a pretty remote place Daryl had found some time ago, and it hadn’t been looted. He hadn’t been able to bring everything back because his backpack was already nearly full. "let’s go." he nodded, and we both grabbed our things and our weapons.

"yes, ma'am," i heard him whisper, and suddenly my legs felt like jelly. I had to make sure my heart wasn’t going to jump out of my chest from how hard it was beating. I didn't respond and couldn’t even look at him, so i started walking toward the pharmacy entrance, holding my gun and flashlight, walking cautiously but firmly.

i carefully opened the door, trying not to make too much noise. we both entered, making sure the place was clear—and it was. We quickly split up, each filling our bags with whatever useful items we could find.

"i think i’m ready. What about you?" i asked, approaching his side of the store.

"almost ready, just need these last bottles," he said, putting them in a pocket before slinging his bag over his shoulder. "let’s go."

when we stepped outside, we noticed the sky was already getting dark, so we hurried to the car, putting our bags in the back seats like when we arrived and then getting in the same seats. That’s when i inserted the key and tried to start the car...

but it wouldn’t start.

the damn car wouldn’t start.

we ran out of gas, but how are we supposed to fix that now? we'd have to walk through the small town, but with it being dark, it would be pointless.

"what do we do?" i asked, and my tone clearly showed how scared i was, making Carl look at me.

"we need to find somewhere to stay. we can’t make it back in the dark," he said, and i swallowed hard, nodding nervously.

"okay, but where do we go? we don’t know this place," i shifted uneasily in my seat.

"we’ll have to walk around a bit and find an open house or something."

and that’s what we did. We got out of the car with our stuff, turned on our flashlights, and walked side by side through the small town where we were now trapped, surrounded by silence and growing darkness.

when my panic started to rise from not finding a place to stay, Carl touched my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts and showing me a house nearby. It looked old, but the door was open. We quickly walked over, quietly entering and checking the first floor for anyone. After confirming it was empty, we went upstairs, finding a hallway with three doors. The first led to a bedroom with one bed, an open and empty closet, and windows covered with newspapers and blankets. The second door led to a bathroom. The last door was blocked, with a note on it saying the room was unusable.

Carl and i exchanged glances, silently debating what to do next.

"i can sleep on the floor if it makes you uncomfortable..." he started to say, so i had to push my nervousness aside for a moment and shake my head.

"no, there’s no way i’m letting you sleep there, Carl," i refused, walking into the bedroom as he followed. I dropped my bag by the door, and he placed his next to the bed. "We're grown, i think we can share a bed," i said with sudden boldness.

"are you sure?" he asked, and i nodded.

"i’m going to change, be right back," i told him, heading to the bathroom to get changed. I took off my shoes, socks, pants, and shirt, staying in my underwear and buttoning up the long plaid shirt to cover what was necessary.

‘i just need to get through this night, just this one,’ i told myself, trying to calm the flush spreading across my cheeks at the mere thought of spending the night with him.

CARL'S POV

i took advantage of the time she spent changing to leave the flashlight lighting up the room, then went to sit on the bed over the sheets, leaning against the headboard.

‘can i really do this?’ the truth is, i don’t know. And just the thought of spending the night in the same bed as her makes me anxious. ‘What if i do something stupid while i sleep? what if i talk in my sleep and say something i shouldn’t?’ ‘What if i start dreaming about her, and she notices?’

the sound of a door closing pulled me from my thoughts, and then she walked into the room, looking even more beautiful.

my heart started beating so hard i could feel it in my ears, and heat rushed through my body, concentrating in my face and neck and ears. I tried not to stare, but before i could stop myself, my eyes scanned her from head to toe, making it hard to breathe, and i struggled to swallow.

she moved closer to the bed, but on the other side. I didn't realize it until she waved her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my trance.

"hello? ´you okay?" she asked, smiling with a bit of amusement, clearly noticing my reaction.

"yeah, yeah, i… got distracted," i lied, feeling a tingling all over my body.

"aren’t you going to change your clothes?" she asked. I glanced at my clothes for a second, considering it, but quickly dismissed the idea. 

"no, i’ll just take off my shoes," i said, doing exactly that.

then the room fell into a tense silence, and i turned to look at her. She was already watching me, and her gaze made the words catch in my throat. I wanted to tell her how beautiful she looks, but i didn’t dare.

all i could do was look at her, wishing i could close the distance and crash my lips against hers.

i wondered what was going through her mind, if she felt the same tension i was feeling or if it was just my imagination. I debated whether i should make a move, but i was scared, and the very thought made my hands start to tremble. She seemed to notice because she took one of my hands and stroked it, looking away at that moment.

"why are you nervous?" she asked, almost whispering as she lifted her head to meet my eyes again. I swallowed hard.

‘should i tell her the truth?’ i could hear my friends' voices telling me to go for it, to tell her already. And even though i’d told them no and practically laughed in their faces for even suggesting it, now the idea didn’t seem so absurd.

"it’s because of you," i finally admitted, watching her eyes widen.

"because of me? wha- what do you mean?" she stuttered.

"you..." i sighed, deciding to be brave. "You look beautiful, and i can’t stop thinking about that and how much i want to do something about it," i confessed, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders as she started to blush, looking adorable.

"and why don’t you do something?" she said softly, and i had to make sure i heard her right before clearing my throat and doing what i had wanted for so long.

i raised the hand she was holding and brought it to her cheek, pulling her face closer to mine to press our lips together. She kissed me back a few seconds later, and although it was a little awkward, we tried to make the kiss special.

when we pulled back a bit, i looked into her eyes, noticing how they sparkled, and her cheeks were even redder than before. Seeing that made me want to kiss her again, and that's what i did, this time more intensely, making her let out a small gasp.

NORMAL POV

both of them started to feel the heat spreading to every part of their bodies. Yn decided to be bold and sat in Carl's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck while he placed his hands on her waist, trying to keep her as close as possible. Soon, the room was filled with the sound of their lips meeting again and again, in a make out session that grew more intense with each passing moment. 

Yn began to try to close her legs, to rub her thighs, but both the position and Carl stopped her. The boy by spreading her legs a little wider, making her put her full weight on his lap. The contact made Yn whimper and Carl groan from the sensation. Taking advantage of the moment, he slid his tongue into her mouth, turning the kiss into something messier as his hands began to roam over her legs, sliding up to the hem of her shirt, which kept rising due to their movements.

they pulled back a little after a few minutes, panting from the sudden intensity, and looking into each other's eyes with the love they had kept quiet for so long.

"i really like you, Yn," Carl said, without breaking eye contact. She smiled and leaned in to give him a peck.

"and i really like you too," she replied, making Carl kiss her again, picking up where they left off just moments ago.

the rest of the night, they spent enjoying each other’s company, expressing their love in different ways until morning came. 

then… though they had barely slept, they set out to figure out how to get the car started. This time, they walked hand in hand, unafraid.

but of course, nothing could save them from their friends' teasing, who understood everything with just one look at them.

it was something they would definitely never forget.

taglist: @jamiesturniolo

[whimsicalcotton]

I'm gonna be honest I just love the way you write amberpricefield so much. I've never even played the game. I love them so much. If you're still taking requests please pick your favorite.

skdfjsdhk thank you anon 🥺🥺🥺

thank u also for the free reign! here is some incredibly stupid Everybody's (Actually) Fine AU nonsense for u <3

--- --- ---

50: Nicknames/Pet Names

There’s a list of things other than “Max,” that Rachel and Chloe call her that probably runs a mile long. 

Chloe likes to stretch her name into a wide variety of different shapes — some more ridiculous than others — and though there apparently exists some method to her madness no one else seems to know quite what it is. Mad Max, Maximilian, Maximum Turbo-Force Dork. Max could fill up a whole notebook with just those, let alone the pet-names. Chloe was once solely an ironic user of the word babe, so Max has been told, but she’s long since fallen into the trap of habit and now throws it around far more casually than Max can handle. 

Rachel has also grown fond of playing around with Max’s name, but she leans more towards the terms of endearment. Max has lost count of the amount of times she’s gone all red in the face after being called honey or love or darling. There was even that one time Rachel had the audacity to call her babygirl in the middle of the dorm hallways, which made her fluster so hard she’d immediately started babbling some lame excuse about the time before literally running all the way back to her room. 

All this is to say: Max has been thinking it’s time for some payback.

So with devious plots in mind from the moment she gets up — perhaps Rachel is starting to rub off on her a bit — Max makes it her day's mission to give the two of them a taste of their own medicine. 

She catches Rachel first. Lingering in the dorm halls, fittingly enough, knee deep in yet another unnecessarily tense looking party planning conversation with Victoria. Of course, Victoria is often the only one who suffers in a conversation with Rachel, so when she turns to see Max approaching her expression shifts easily into one of earnest excitement.

“Morning, Max,” she greets, apparently feeling generous in her sparing Max from having to get flustered in front of Victoria. Her mistake. 

Max takes a final little breath for courage, and goes for the metaphorical kill. “Good morning, sweetheart. Am I seeing you for lunch today?”

She tries not to smile so hard watching Rachel’s cheeks turn red.

“Y-Yeah,” Rachel answers, looking momentarily horrified by her stammering before straightening up. “Yeah, sure, lunch. I’m there. See you then.”

As Max is taking her leave, hardly capable of stopping herself from skipping the whole way, she overhears their chatter resume. 

“Bitch, didn’t you literally just tell me we were gonna go over this shit again at lunch?” Victoria snaps, incredulous. “Oh my god, you’re down bad. That was pathetic. Well played, Amber, truly.”

“Shut the hell up, Chase,” Rachel hisses back. “Tell anyone what just happened and you’ll be on your own supplying party booze for the rest of the year.”

Max gets Chloe later on, during the aforementioned lunch hangout that Rachel is apparently snubbing Victoria to be present for. 

She’s in the midst of chowing down on some of the sweets Max brought along, getting bread crumbs and icing sugar all over herself in the process. By the time she’s done, there are patches of powdery white and a hint of jelly still adorning her face. Rachel tries to hide a bout of snorting giggles upon looking at her.

“Jesus, you’d think we never feed you,” she says, still covering her mouth with one hand and handing Chloe a napkin with the other. 

“Yeah,” Max agrees, taking the napkin in Chloe’s stead and reaching up to wipe off her face. “You’re making such a mess of yourself, baby.”

Chloe’s eyes go wide as saucers as she squeaks out an astoundingly unsure, “I sure am.” She lets Max finish cleaning her off before seemingly coming to her senses and going even redder than Rachel had earlier. 

Speaking of, Rachel’s gone a little pink again herself. She looks over at Max with a gaze as hungry as it is curious. “Man, you’re out for blood today, aren’t you?” 

“Just having a bit of fun,” Max assures with a smile, watching on in unabashed satisfaction as Chloe devolves into a grumbling, mumbling mess hiding her face in her hands.

[butteredfrogs]

the big simblr vs small simblr anon going around is literally exactly the reason that i keep turning anon asks off because while yes there are some sweet anons out there, the vast majority of anons just want to say unnecessary stuff and hide behind anon. like it sucks that the bad out weighs the good but it does unfortunately

[lumi-cherries]

do you have any rei boob hcs... i like to think she has stretch marks from them growing kind of quickly (projecting) i like to think she was flat chested at first but then they seemed to grow overnight LOL

STRETCH MARKS.......................................... HOLY SHIT. ANON. YOUR MIND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS SO GOOD this will officially be my hc as well thank u

[imaginedisish]

I'm Not In Love (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, so this if my first fic in over a year, and it's also my first Wolverine fic...so please be kind. I'm just getting back into the groove. Expect it to possibly be a little rough. This is big time inspired by "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc. This fic is also thanks to a request I got from an anonymous user! Thanks for the idea, anon! Hope it's okay! Enjoy guys.

Summary: After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. There's like no plot here just smut, Unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), AFAB reader, Sizekink!(this was a specific size kink request, and so the reader is therefore described as being smaller than Logan/his shirt being big on her), cursing, praise kink, OOC!Logan (just putting this out there because I haven't seen the X-Men movies/read X-Men comics in forever and I'm probably giving him terms he doesn't use/having him act in ways he might not typically), feelings, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, one bed muahaha, probably grammar errors, think that's it?

Word Count: 3,162 I got carried away

He was driving you absolutely crazy. Logan. Logan fucking Howlett, with his cocksure attitude and self-satisfied smile. Maybe it’s the way he thinks he’s always right. Maybe it’s that stupid stubbornness, that prowl he does when he walks across a room to meet you. To mock you. His whole being towering over you—his musky, pine-scented cologne filling your lungs. He’s everywhere—and not just metaphorically—literally and physically. His giant frame shadows yours, and you can’t help but admit that there’s something about it…something about him. 

You want him. Bad. And although you won’t admit it, you’ve wanted him for months. And so, as of lately, he’s not so much a nuisance as much as he’s a distraction. 

You just had to be sent on this mission with Logan—this ridiculous two-day stake-out that you could have done on your own. You’re certainly strong enough; your telekinetic powers and regenerative abilities are enough to handle any situation. And yet, here you are, walking up to a motel with Logan fucking Howlett. 

His frame practically consumes yours as he stands behind you on the sidewalk. You swear you can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your waist, impatient and ready to guide you forward. You silently wish he would—wish he would grab your hips and take you down that alleyway and—

“You okay, darlin’?” His voice is gruff against the shell of your ear. “You seem awfully distracted.”

You swallow your embarrassment and hope he won’t pick up on how fast your heart is beating. “I’m fine, just tired,” you mutter, lying straight through your teeth. You can feel his smirk against the side of your head. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to know how much you want him. 

He chuckles and his chest vibrates against your back. “Too tired for the mission, bub? We’re almost at the motel, don’t worry.” The condescension in his voice is palpable. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. You’re putty in his hands. 

He steps out from behind you, and before you can mourn the loss of the contact, he grabs your hand and leads the way through the doors of the motel. “This okay?” He whispers in your ear, his massive hand giving your smaller one a squeeze. All you can manage is a nod as you approach the front desk. You know it’s just to support your cover—you and Logan are posing as a married couple—but you can’t help but hope it means more. You need it to mean more. 

God, you are so fucked. 

You’re so distracted thinking about how close Logan is to you that you almost miss the moment when the worker at the front desk says the only room left has just one bed. 

You crane your head to look up at Logan, who you find is already looking down at you. 

“That’s perfect,” he says, his eyes still on you. His stare doesn’t budge as the man behind the front desk slides the key towards the two of you. Logan grabs the keys and finally breaks the moment. His hand is still holding yours as he navigates the two of you toward your motel room. 

The room is…small. There’s one queen bed in the center, a bathroom on the other side of the room, and an old box television resting on an even older-looking oak dresser. On the bright side, the place appears to be clean. 

“I should freshen up,” you say, taking off your shoes. Your hand slips out of Logan’s as you pad over to the bathroom with your bag. 

The bathroom isn’t horrible either. Dated, but clean. You brush your teeth and wash your face before undressing and searching for your pajamas in your bag—which, naturally, you forgot to pack. 

“Ah fuck,” You mutter louder than you meant to. 

You hear Logan stirring in the other room, his footsteps quickly approaching the door. “You okay?” You can sense the concern in his voice, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Yeah, just forgot to pack something to wear to bed.” There’s more shuffling on the other side of the door. You hear Logan’s bag zip. 

“You want my shirt?” He asks, standing just outside the door now. 

“I’d feel bad, then you—” Your protests are ignored as he opens the door just enough to toss his Calgary Flames t-shirt onto the bathroom sink, closing it tightly once the shirt lands. You smirk as you walk over to the shirt and put it on. The hem lands at the middle of your thighs. Logan really is massive, you think to yourself. 

You take a deep breath, slowly twist the knob of the bathroom door, and head outside. Logan is lounging on the chair next to the dresser, his eyes on you as you place your bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

“Th-thanks for the…” You stutter, trailing off as you nod down to the shirt. 

Logan smirks as he pushes himself out of the chair and makes his way toward you. You think you see him take you in, look you up and down, but that can’t possibly be.

He shakes his head as he stops at your side. You swear you hear him mutter a low fuck under his breath. “You look good.” But he doesn’t stop for long. He pushes forward and into the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mumbles as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Let’s just share the bed,” you shout back, unsure of where the confidence to say that came from. But there’s no response, just the running of water from the sink. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for what feels like forever, but Logan doesn’t take long at all. After a few minutes, you hear the sink shut off and the door creek open. 

You shake your head as you stand from the bed to face him. “By the way, you’re not sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridic—” You’re too stunned to say another word. You’ve seen Logan shirtless before, sure, but not like this. Not in just his boxers. Not in a room with him, alone, for an entire night. You need to relax, to calm down, but there’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at. You know he can your heart beating out of your chest now. 

 He steps toward you, engulfing you with his presence. You stare up at him. “Am I really that scary?” He closes the distance between the two of you. 

You try to play dumb. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Every time I get close to you, that little heart of yours practically explodes.”

You swallow roughly. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.” But your shaky voice gives it away. You know exactly what he means. 

His arms snake around your waist, resting on your lower back. “Yeah, you do, darlin’,” he says. “You afraid of me or something?” God he is so fucking cocky, you think to yourself. 

“’M’not afraid of you,” you whisper. “Could never be afraid of you.” 

He smiles and walks you to the edge of the bed, your knees threatening to buckle under the pressure. “What is it then, hm? You like how big I am? That it?” Your eyes frantically search his face for some sort of excuse, some sort of denial. But he can read you like a book. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” He’s towering over you, caging you in. 

“It’s more than that,” you admit. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah? What?” He won’t let that be enough—you know he won’t. He’ll tease it out of you. His presence is dizzying and distracting. You’re not even sure you can form another complete sentence. 

“I-it’s just you,” you finally choke out. 

But it’s not enough for him. “What about me?”

Everything, you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel. “Logan, I…” But you can’t. I’m not in love, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself of for months.  

“Go on, say it. What’s got you going?” He tightens his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently along your back. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Use your words, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. He’s everything and he’s everywhere. He’s in your head and in your hands. You can smell the musk and the pine and a hint of mint and that extra thing that is just distinctly him. He’s warm and his breath ever-so-lightly tickles your ear as his forehead rests against yours. 

And then finally, it comes out.

“I want you, Lo.”

You open your eyes and immediately notice the change in his expression. That cocky grin is gone. He isn’t teasing anymore. This is something else. Want. No, stronger than that. Desire. Adoration. Longing. Like those four words undid something in him. Untangled some knot that had been there for far too long. Almost like he thought you maybe wouldn’t want this. That maybe someone wouldn’t want him. 

So, you say it again. “I want you, Logan.” 

He shuts his eyes. “Fuck.” 

And then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. His lips find their way to yours, crashing like the world is about to end. You can feel his hunger, his desperation. He rests one hand next to your head for balance and slips his free hand underneath the shirt he lent you. He’s exploring the curves of your body, the dips and turns, eventually pulling the shirt up and over your head. 

He comes up for air as his fingers play with the clasp of your bra. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “This okay?” He asks, waiting for your approval. You nod and the hooks are immediately undone. You arch your back so he can slip the bra off. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he mumbles. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing you, pinching lightly. 

“Lo, please. Need you,” is all you can say. 

He trails a line of kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the center of your chest, his mouth traveling achingly slowly until finally landing on one of your tits. He kisses your nipple before taking it into his mouth, biting lightly and licking the hurt away. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

He comes up for a moment. “Please what?” He asks before moving on to the other side. 

“Need you so bad,” You whimper. But he doesn’t stop. “N-need you to touch me.”

He pauses again. “Think I’m already doing that, darlin’. Gonna have to be more specific.” 

“Fuck me, please.”  

He shakes his head. “Wanna make you feel good first, pretty girl.” 

You sit up a bit, ready to protest. “But you are. You’re making me feel so—” You’re cut off by the sight of him staring up at you as he trails kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your panties. He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the center of the bed. His fingers slip under the hem of your panties, waiting for your approval. You nod, and he practically tears them right off you. 

Logan kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly charting a path toward your core, his thumb tracing circles on the other thigh. You’re already squirming under his touch. “Lo,” You whimper. “Please—Fuck!” Without warning, his tongue licks a long stripe up your folds to your clit. His lips lock around it, sucking softly, his fingers suddenly teasing your entrance before slipping a finger inside.

“So tight darlin’. Gonna feel so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a jolt up your spine. 

He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. His tongue laps at your cunt, licking slow circles as his finger pumps in and out. You need more.

“Lo,” You call out, your back arching in pleasure. But he doesn’t answer. He keeps going as if he’s gotten lost in you, as if there’s nothing that can possibly be said to bring him back. “Lo, please,” you moan again. 

He chuckles against your core. “Please what, pretty girl?” He mumbles. You can feel his smirk against you.

“M-more,” you beg. You can feel his smirk grow wider as his motions stall. “No don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

He looks up at you, his finger buried deep inside your cunt, his lips just inches from your clit. “Wanna take my time with you, darlin’.”

“Y-you c-can,” You stutter. “W-whatever you want. Just need more.”

“More?” He repeats, arrogantly tilting his head. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

“Yes, please.” But you know by the look in his eyes that you’re getting more than you bargained for. 

He adds another finger, pumping in and out faster than before. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly. It’s overwhelming, and you know he isn’t going to let up. His tongue draws circles around your core, flicking harshly before ruthlessly sucking again. You can feel a third finger prodding your entrance before slipping in and stretching you out. 

“This what you wanted?” He teases.

“Lo, I—” It’s too much, you can’t speak. 

“I’ve got you darlin’. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me.” His words by themselves practically send you over the edge. 

“’M’so close Logan,” You whimper, spurring him on. His pace quickens; his circles become harder. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers. 

“I know, pretty girl. Wanna feel you come on my fingers. Can you do that for me?” 

You can’t even speak anymore. All you can manage is a hum that passes for an affirmative. He pumps in and out of you, still alternating between sucking your clit and circling it with his tongue. 

“Look so beautiful like this darlin’. So fucking beautiful,” He husks. And that’s all it takes to make that liquid heat, that tension building in the bottom of your stomach, cut like a knife, pouring out of you. Your vision blurs as you let yourself go. You chant his name like it’s a prayer, a spell, something otherworldly. He finally slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

He pulls out and away from you, crawling up your body so that he’s on top of you. He’s absolutely huge; his arms rest next to your head, caging you in. “You alright sweetheart?” He asks, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

“Hm,” You hum. “Like you like this.”

There’s that cocky smirk again. “Like what?”

“O-on top of me,” You admit freely now. Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, but he quickly pins them above your head.

He smiles widely, his forehead coming down to rest on yours. You can feel his erection press against your core through his boxers. And—fuck—he’s big. “Gonna fuck you like this then, okay pretty girl?”

“P-please,” you stutter. 

He sits up, pulling his boxers down, revealing just how big he is. You swallow harshly, sitting up and watching as he casts his boxers to the side. He doesn’t let you watch for long. He pins you down again, one hand keeping your hands above your head and supporting his weight, while the other guides his cock to your entrance. His slides against your folds before slowly sinking inside you. You can’t help but arch your back to meet his chest. 

Everything is slow. He’s taking his time again, letting himself feel every inch of you, giving you the chance to adjust to the size of him. His free hand reaches in between your bodies and finds your clit, drawing slow, gentle circles. 

His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you. “Wanted this for so long,” he confesses, his thrusts growing faster. “Always wanted you, darlin’.” You can feel your heart burst in your chest as his lips meet yours. You can feel his hunger, his desire. 

“Wanted you too,” You whisper against his lips between kisses. 

His cock rubs against your walls, hitting that sweet spot every single time. He’s massive, stretching you out with each pump. He builds speed, his thrusts growing rougher as his fingers circle your clit faster. 

He whispers praises in your ear. “You feel so good, pretty girl. So fucking tight. Need you, darlin’. Always.” 

Always. 

It’s all too much. The words, the vulnerability, the feeling of him rutting into you with no end in sight. The promise of something else, something more. 

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, your walls tightening around him. It’s all so overwhelming. But if you’re being honest, you never want it to end. This. This feeling. Him inside you. Him around you. 

He curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster as he chases his orgasm. “I know darlin’. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” He keeps his fingers steady on your clit, circling roughly, chasing your orgasm too. 

“Lo,” You mumble. “It’s so good. Y-you’re so good, so b-beautiful.” You’re a bumbling mess, but you want him to feel good too, to know what he’s doing to you, to know that he deserves this. Deserves to be wanted. 

You feel wetness on his cheeks as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Always wanted you,” he whispers again against the shell of your ear. “Always gonna want you.” 

The tension snaps, and you feel blaring white heat ripple through your body. Logan somehow buries himself deeper inside you as you come, your walls squeezing him tighter. 

“F-fuck,” he groans. “Where do you want—”

You cut him off this time. “Inside, please,” you pant. “Safe.” He curses under his breath and calls out your name as he fills you up. 

“So perfect,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

His thrusts slow down as he finishes, and he slowly pulls out of you. But he doesn’t pull away. He keeps you close, moving you both towards the headboard. It takes a minute, but he manages to keep you close to his chest as he undoes the covers and gets you both inside them. 

Logan holds you tightly, peppering kisses against your temples every now and then. 

He’s the first to speak. “When I said always…” He trails off. You brace yourself for the worst. It was just the heat of the moment, bub. ‘M’sorry I said it. This shouldn’t happen again. It was a one-time thing and I—

“I meant it.”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He smiles. But it’s not that cocky smile, not that self-satisfied shit-eating grin. It’s that other thing again. Longing. 

“I meant it, too.” 

tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I really loved your career day fic and I was wondering if you could do a Shut up mom fic with the same lineup with nanami tho if you write for him🥺 👉👈

Shut up, Mom!

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, mostly crack, cursing, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: I would be delighted to write this anon :) my requests are open, loves. If you want me to write a specific idea, definitely ask and I’ll try to deliver on it! also, if anyone wants to be on a taglist please let me know. So, I gave Sukuna a kid in this one because I didn’t really see Yuji calling you mom or him dad. Yuji calls you two unc and auntie :)

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

“Aoi, did you take out the trash?” You ask your nine-year-old son while trying not to giggle. Aoi has recently discovered pranks, and he suggested playing one on Satoru. You couldn’t help but think that was an amazing idea.

Your husband was leisurely sitting on the couch, playing a game on the console he and your son shared. He was able to see you from his peripheral vision while you and Aoi were in the dining room. He didn’t seem to be too intrigued by the conversation, but Satoru is a chronic eavesdropper. He can’t help it with his technique and all.

“No, mom. Why can’t you do it?” Aoi plays his role perfectly, even throwing in an annoyed groan at you. Gojo cut his eyes towards you two, but he stayed silent for a moment. He knew this was your battle to face, and he wasn’t usually the disciplinary parent anyways.

“Because I told you to do it, Aoi. It’s your chore.” You say, putting on a serious voice as you would if he had really been sassing off to you.

“Ugh. Shut up, mom!” Aoi yells with a dramatic eye roll.

Immediately, you hear the game console cut off. It seems like you two had garnered Satoru’s attention. Footsteps carry into the dining room, and your all too tall husband leans against the doorframe.

Aoi sees his father, and his eyes widen. Your little actor. He then tries to walk off, but Satoru easily put his hand out against Aoi’s chest, preventing him from going anywhere.

“Woah, woah, woah, there little man. Who do you think you’re talking to there?” He interjects as his hands slowly unwrap his bindings from around his eyes, letting you know that he’s about to get serious.

“She’s getting on my nerves, dad!” Aoi continues to play the role, even though you can tell that he’s scared shitless.

“Hey, look at me.” Satoru says as he bends his knees to be eye level with Aoi. Your son complies with his dad’s order. “I don’t give a shit, okay? Never, and I mean, never tell your mother to shut up unless you intend on fighting me afterwards. She says to take out the trash, you say yes and take out the trash. Do you understand me?” Satoru says as he holds his son’s shoulders, squeezing them a bit so Aoi knows he’s not fooling around.

“Because I don’t think you want to fight me, do you?” Satoru questions. His blue eyes beam in the light, making your son nervously sweat.

“Baby, it’s just a prank.” You quickly interject with a laugh as you gently nudge your husband away from your son.

“Yeah dad, I was just acting!!” Aoi’s nervous gaze flutters into an adorable smile.

Satoru rolls his eyes and playfully laughs along. “You two are too silly, makin’ me turn off my game for this.” He shakes his head as he wraps his eyes back up.

“You were like gonna hollow purple me!” Aoi shouts with an excited laugh, and he reenacts Satoru’s cursed technique.

“Yeah, I love your mom a little too much.” Satoru responds with a grin up towards your direction.

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako are coming into their teen years, and recently, they’ve been obsessed with the idea of TikTok. After seeing the “shut up mom” prank all over, they knew that they had to play it on Suguru.

You, of course, agreed to help them pull off their little shenanigan.

“You two are not going out. It’s a school night.” You chide at the twin girls, giving them a small wink as Suguru was enjoying a cup of tea while sitting at the breakfast bar. He was scrolling mindlessly on his phone, reading the news or something like that.

“Mom, please. Everyone’s going.” Nanako pled and even threw in a small pout.

“Yeah, who cares if it’s a school night?” Mimiko chimed in.

“Girls.” Suguru warned as he normally did when you were having to deal with the twins. He didn’t like the idea of the girls ganging up on you.

“I said no. I bet you two didn’t even do your homework yet either.” You carry on, eyeing the two girls as if they were really in trouble.

“Ugh! Mom, shut up!” The girls somehow managed to say in sync. The two had obviously practiced their lines.

The tea glass hit the counter, and Suguru a stood up from his seat on the stool. “Hey. I don’t ever want to hear that kind of language in this house, especially not to your mother. Got that?” He said as he eyed your daughters.

Your husband was a bit of a strict father to the girls. He really just wanted them to turn out good, so he was the main disciplinary figure in the house.

“Dad! She’s-“

“Aht.” He cuts Mimiko off, and starts to walk up to the girls. “I didn’t ask. Apologize to your mother this instant. Then, go upstairs and do your homework. You two are grounded from going out for at least a month.”

“Sugu, it’s a prank.” You say as you can’t hold back a laugh from how angry he got that quickly. “It’s a prank, sweetie.”

Your two girls were nodding quickly, holding their hands out in surrender. “We saw it on TikTok!”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the three of you. “That app is no good for you.” He quietly chides. “Did you two do your homework?”

Mimiko and Nanako exchange nervous glances, and they both run up to their rooms to get it done.

Your husband laughs quietly and shakes his head before sitting back down on his stool. You walk over towards him and card your fingers through his long hair. He lets out a long exhale of contentment while leaning his head into your touch. “What are we gonna do with those two, hm?”

“Love them and try our best to teach them.” You softly respond before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

TOJI

Toji is a pretty laid back dad. He lets you take the lead on a lot of the parenting aspects, since it comes to you more naturally than it does with him. However.. he has his moments.

“Megumi, come help me do the dishes.” You say to your 13-year-old son. He’s in that weird stage of puberty where you’re his best friend one day and his worst enemy the next, which means he sometimes agreed to play pranks with you.

“Busy, mom.” He mumbles at the table as he’s trying to learn the hand signs for one of his shikigami. He was left learning this stuff on his own since Toji wasn’t a sorcerer, and you weren’t apart of the Zenin clan. You had no idea how to do the hand gestures.

“You can do that after you’re done helping me, Gumi.” You say as you turn on the kitchen sink. Your son doesn’t even acknowledge that you said anything.

Toji eyes him from his seat at the dining table, waiting for his son to comply.

“Gumi. Get in here.” You finally say after a minute of him not responding to you.

“Shut up, Mom!” He raises his voice at you, and immediately, Toji is on him quicker than you could respond.

“What did you just say to your mother, brat?” Toji grits as he stares down at his teenage son. Megumi looked back up at him mortified. “I brought you in this world, and I will take your ass out of it if I hear you speak to your mom like that again.”

“Baby, baby, baby, it’s a prank!” You say as you rush over to Toji. Megumi cracks a nervous smile, and you gently nudge Toji back.

“It’s a prank!” Megumi shouts as he leans back away from Toji slightly.

Your husband lets out an annoyed grunt. “You two play too much. Gonna make me kill my own son.” He says as he releases Megumi’s shoulder. He walks back over to his seat at the dining table and smacks your ass on the way back.

SUKUNA

“Ryu, come take out the trash!” You yell to your son. He recently brought up the idea of pranking Sukuna by yelling at you to shut up in front of him. You had urged your son that this was a bad idea, but he was persistent.

Sukuna was sat at the dining table, eating whatever Uraume had prepared for him. Usually, Uraume handled the trash as well, but you distinctly told them to leave it.

There’s no response.

“Ryu! Trash now!” You call out again in a more frustrated tone.

Sukuna is biting his tongue at this point. There is nothing that he hates more than insolence, especially towards you. You’re his queen, and he demands for all to respect you, including his son.

No response.

“Ryu!”

“Okay mom! Shut the fuck up!”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes widened, and he put down his fork. “Domain expansion. Malevolent-“

“It’s a prank!” You shout as you spin to look at Sukuna quickly. Your son is standing behind you, quite literally trembling in fear.

“Yeah- it’s a p-prank, dad.” Ryu stutters out.

Sukuna narrows his gaze, and he looks between the two of you. “Foolish.” He grunts. “Boy, come have a seat.” He commands, and your son reluctantly complies.

“If you ever pull some shit like that seriously, I’m not afraid to start over and make a new kid. I got nothing but time on my hands.” Your husband says while eyeing your son.

“Ryu’s a good kid, Kuna.” You assure him as you walk over to your husband and rub on his shoulders a bit.

“Mmm, for now.” He mumbles, and he nods his head to the trashcan. “Take the trash out.”

NANAMI

Your husband was sitting in the living room, enjoying his “lazy Sunday” as he called it. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. He couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the life he was living right now.

He had everything he ever dreamed of: a stable job, an amazing wife, a small family in a loving home.

You were sitting next to him, casually rubbing on his thigh through his pajama pants. You and your daughter had been texting about playing a prank on your dear husband, and it was finally going to happen.

“Hana, did you fold the clothes like I told you to?” You call out to your daughter as she’s in her bedroom. Nanami turns a page in his book, still not paying too much attention.

“Mom, I’m doing something!” Your daughter yells back.

“Hana, get in here and fold those clothes!” You shout back, getting a bit more serious. Nanami lets out a small sigh as he places his mug on the coffee table. He’s normally quick to nip Hana’s attitude in the bud.

“I’m busy!”

“Hana!”

“Okay mom! Just shut up already!” She finally yells as she storms into the living room. Nanami shuts his book and immediately stares down your daughter.

“What did you just say?” He asks as he sits up from his cozy position. His jaw tightens a bit as he glares at Hana.

“I just told her to shut up. She’s being overdramatic.” Your daughter continues, playing her part perfectly.

“Who’s her? Your mother? You’re telling my wife to shut up?” Nanami says as he starts to stand up.

“It’s just a prank, Ken!”

“Dad, it’s a prank-!”

You and your daughter both shout nervously, and Nanami looks at both of you confused for a moment. It then clicks in his head. “God, don’t stress me out like that.” He chides as he relaxes back on the couch. He wraps his arm back around you and picks up his book again.

[xo100]

Coming home - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary/request: by anon; ‘y/n drunk in a club and calling lando to pick her up 🙈 him being patient and gentle 🫶🏼 thank you!!!’

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2214

୨ৎ

It had been a quiet evening for Lando Norris. The kind of evening he loved, where the house was filled with the gentle hum of the TV, and the warmth of home comforted him after a long day. He’d spent most of his time winding down, his thoughts often drifting to his girlfriend, who had texted him earlier in the day, saying she’d be out with friends tonight.

“You have fun,” he had told her with a smile before she left, his hands gently resting on her hips as he gave her a kiss goodbye.

She never went out too often—mostly a homebody unlike him—so he had encouraged her to enjoy herself, to have a night of fun and laughter, with drinks if she felt like it. He knew she didn’t really drink much, maybe a cocktail here or there, but nothing excessive. She had always been mindful, careful, but tonight seemed a little different.

-

It was around midnight when Lando's phone buzzed.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He figured it would be one of those casual updates, maybe a quick check-in to let him know she was alright. But when he glanced at the screen, the sight of her name at the top of the message thread made him pause, and the message itself made him frown slightly in confusion.

“I’msogldmkgoig,” the text read. He blinked, squinting at the screen.

Lando tilted his head, trying to decipher the meaning of the garbled message. Was she typing in some kind of code? Then it hit him—a small smile tugged at his lips. She was drunk. Really drunk.

Shaking his head with a soft chuckle, he swiped open his phone, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen.

“Hey, you okay? Need me to pick you up?”

It took a minute or two for a response to come in, and when it did, it was no clearer than the first.

“nnoOOO immmmperf!!! ssssgood igot this!!! 😊😊😊”

Lando laughed under his breath, a fond smile settling on his face. He could just imagine her sitting at a table with her friends, holding her phone up way too close to her face, squinting at the keyboard as she tried to string a sentence together. She always got flustered when her texts came out wrong, even more so when she had a bit too much to drink.

He tried calling her, but it rang for a moment before she declined it. Another message popped up.

“ssorryyyyy busyy having fun witt gurls!! 🎉🍹”

Lando raised an eyebrow. He knew her friends, and he had no doubt they were looking after her, but it was clear she was teetering on the edge of tipsy and downright hammered.

A part of him wanted to laugh at the situation, but the protective part of him nudged forward. He’d rather her be home and safe than out and struggling to figure out how to text properly.

After sending her another message asking if she needed help, he waited, watching the dots of her typing bubble appear and disappear before another string of incomprehensible words filled the chat.

Then, finally, she called him.

Her name flashed across the screen, and Lando answered quickly.

“Hiiiii,” she sang into the phone, her voice bright but undeniably slurred.

“Hey, love,” Lando said softly, leaning back on the couch, the smile in his voice impossible to miss. “You doing okay over there?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, a bit of shuffling and background noise as her friends laughed and chatted around her. “Mmmm, I think soooo,” she said, dragging out the words. “But Landoooo, guess what?”

“What?” Lando humored her, knowing she probably had no idea where this conversation was going.

“I miss youuuu,” she said with a giggle, her voice softening with an endearing whine. “Like, really, really miss you.”

Lando’s heart did a little flip, warmth spreading in his chest. “I miss you too,” he replied, his voice dropping into that gentle, affectionate tone he used whenever they were being sweet with each other. “How about I come pick you up, hmm? I think it’s time to get you home.”

There was another pause, and he could hear the muffled sound of her friends in the background again, likely checking in on her. Then she whispered into the phone, as if telling him the world’s biggest secret, “Okay… but don’t tell anyone… I’m a little drunk.”

Lando chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “You don’t say.”

“But I’m not… that drunk,” she continued, her words tumbling over each other. “Just… a little.”

“Sure, babe,” Lando said playfully, standing up from the couch and grabbing his keys. “I’ll be there in a bit, alright? Stay with your friends. I’m on my way.”

“‘Kayyy,” she sighed, clearly relieved. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the best,” she whispered, her voice filled with a drunken sincerity that made Lando’s chest tighten in the best way.

He grinned, shaking his head again as he headed out the door. “You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

-

The drive to the bar wasn’t long. Lando had been there with her and her friends before, and he knew the route by heart. As he pulled up, his eyes immediately scanned the front of the building, and sure enough, he spotted her standing with a few of her friends near the curb, her posture relaxed but a little wobbly. She was laughing at something one of them had said, her phone clutched in one hand, her jacket loosely draped over her shoulders.

Lando parked and stepped out of the car, his eyes softening as they landed on her. She looked up and saw him, her face lighting up in a way that made his heart skip. She immediately broke into a wide, tipsy grin, her eyes sparkling as she waved enthusiastically.

“Landooo!” she called, drawing out his name in that adorable, exaggerated way she always did when she was happy to see him.

He chuckled, making his way over to her, his hands slipping into his pockets as he approached. “Hey, you,” he greeted, his voice warm and teasing.

She stumbled slightly as she moved toward him, but he was quick to catch her, his hands gently wrapping around her waist to steady her. “Careful, love,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Her arms looped around his neck as she looked up at him, her eyes a little glassy but full of affection. “You came,” she said, her voice softer now, as if the reality of him being there had just hit her.

“Of course I did,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I wasn’t gonna leave you here drunk and texting me gibberish all night.”

She giggled, her cheeks flushing. “I wasn’t texting gibberish!”

Lando raised an eyebrow, pulling out his phone and holding up her messages for her to see. “You sure about that?”

She squinted at the screen, her face scrunching up in concentration before she groaned, burying her face in his chest. “Okay, maybe a little gibberish,” she mumbled.

He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around her a little tighter. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, looking up at him with wide, playful eyes. “But I was having funnn,” she whined, though the smile tugging at her lips told him she was more than happy to go with him.

“I’m sure you were,” Lando said with a smirk. “But you’ll have more fun when you’re not regretting all those drinks tomorrow.”

She pouted up at him for a moment before her expression softened, her hand coming up to gently cup his cheek. “You’re so good to me,” she whispered, her voice carrying that drunken tenderness again.

Lando’s heart melted at her words, and he leaned down to kiss her softly, his lips brushing against hers with all the love and patience in the world. “Only because you’re worth it,” he murmured against her lips before pulling back slightly. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

-

The drive home was quiet, her head resting against the window as the streetlights flickered by. Every now and then, she’d glance over at him, her eyes soft and full of affection. He’d catch her staring and smile, reaching over to squeeze her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in soothing circles.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando laughed softly. “Am I?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, her eyes drifting shut as she leaned back into the seat. “Really, really cute.”

He shook his head, the fondness in his chest swelling as he stole a glance at her. “You’re something else.”

By the time they got home, she was half-asleep, her body heavy with the exhaustion that always seemed to follow a night of drinking. Lando parked the car and got out, walking over to her side and opening the door. She stirred slightly, her eyes blinking open as he reached out a hand to help her up.

“You okay to walk?” he asked gently.

She nodded, though her movements were slow and sleepy. He wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her out of the car as she leaned into him for support. Her head rested against his shoulder, and a small, content sigh escaped her lips as they made their way toward the house.

Lando unlocked the door and led her inside, his grip gentle but firm. She stumbled a little on her way through the doorway, giggling at her own clumsiness.

“You’re like my knight in shining armor,” she slurred playfully, looking up at him with a soft smile as they stood in the entryway. “Except you drive a McLaren instead of a horse.”

Lando chuckled, rolling his eyes in amusement. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She nodded, her head resting back on his shoulder as they made their way down the hallway to their bedroom. “It’s totally a compliment,” she mumbled, her voice getting quieter with each word. “You’re perfect.”

They reached the bed, and Lando helped her sit down, carefully slipping off her shoes. “Alright, love,” he said softly, “let's get you into something more comfortable.”

She whined in protest, her arms going limp as she dramatically fell back onto the bed, her legs still dangling off the edge. “But I’m already sooo comfy,” she groaned.

Lando smirked, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered affectionately as he knelt down to take her shoes off. Then he stood, heading to the closet to grab one of his oversized hoodies—one she always liked to wear—and brought it back to her.

With a bit of gentle coaxing, he helped her change out of her clothes, into the soft hoodie that smelled faintly of him. She sighed in contentment, snuggling into the fabric as soon as it was on.

“There you go,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face. “All cozy.”

She smiled sleepily at him, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him. “Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The words came out soft and vulnerable, almost like a confession. Even though she was drunk, there was a deep sincerity in her voice that made his heart ache in the best way. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead before resting his own forehead against hers.

“I love you too” he murmured, his voice filled with all the affection he’d been holding onto since the moment she had called him. “So much.”

She smiled, her eyes fluttering closed as she snuggled deeper into the blankets. “You’re the best boyfriend ever,” she mumbled, her words slurring together as sleep started to claim her.

Lando stayed there for a moment, just watching her, his heart swelling with warmth. He could see the way her breathing slowed, her body relaxing completely as she drifted off to sleep. Even in her drunken state, she was still the girl he adored—the one who made him laugh, who always knew how to make him smile, and who filled his life with more joy than he ever thought possible.

He stood up slowly, making sure she was tucked in before he changed into his own clothes for the night. Sliding into bed next to her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. She instinctively moved toward him, her body curling into his as she sighed in contentment.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his fingers gently brushing through her hair as he whispered, “Goodnight, love.”

And as she slept peacefully in his arms, he couldn’t help but smile, his heart full. Because nights like this—where he could be there for her, take care of her, and remind her just how much he loved her—were the ones that made everything worth it.

She might have been a little too drunk tonight, but to Lando, she was perfect in every way. And as they lay there, tangled together in the quiet comfort of their home, he knew he wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for the world.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; Hey anon! I hope you enjoyed it and that this was what you had in mind! If not let me know so I can change things! Enjoy it, love! I’m also currently working on part 3 of baking cookies, coming online soon!

[veritasangel]

First times being intimate

ft. Bakugo, Midoriya, Shoto, Hawks

⋆ ˚｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: nsfw content {mdni} ↣ mutual masturbation (midoriya), mentions of blowjob, fingering (todoroki), piv (hawks), piv, creampie, hair pulling (bakugo)

↣ suggested by an anon ♡ {wc: 1.2k}

Izuku Midoriya - both of your first times

He’s so nervous and whenever it almost happens, he’s on the phone to Bakugo, asking for tips on what to do.

Reads everything he can on how to make it good for you, honestly probably reads too much.

Definitely the type to think it has to go a certain way, before realising that in the moment, you just do what feels right.

Your brain was practically short circuiting as you were sitting in between Izuku’s legs, back against his chest, panties long since discarded as he ran his fingers through your folds, your wetness reassuring him that he wasn’t messing up yet, at least.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly as his fingers curl inside you at the perfect angle. You thought it was new to both of you and it seemed it too with his vocalisation of wanting reassurance, but god did it feel like he already knew what he was doing. 

“Mhm, feels- feels, good.” you could hardly speak, not trusting your voice as you leaned back against his chest.

“I heard that it’s good to prep in general, but especially for your first time, don’t wanna’ hurt you.” he says, breath hitching slightly as your hand gently begins working his cock.

“Ahh- that’s new-” he breathes out a little shakily.

“You’ve never done that?” you ask softly,

“Well...to myself, yeah- Oh god- pleasepleaase-” his fingers move to your clit as he tries to collect his thoughts, “sorry- just different with your hand.”

“Good different?” you lift your head momentarily to look back up at him.

“Definitely good different. Amazing different.” he says before burying his face against you to stifle the small whimpers that keep escaping.

Keigo Takami (Hawks) - your first time

Experienced man. He knows how to take care of you, and has everything covered.

Goes at your pace, encourages you to be vocal about what you want because it helps him learn what your body likes but also helps you to feel more comfortable.

Aftercare and reassurance with him is perfect.

“There’s no rush, birdie. We can go as slow as you want.” He says softly as he looks up at you adoringly, as you’re straddling him. “And if you change your mind, that’s okay too.” he says as he lifts one of your hands to press a soft kiss to your knuckles

“I…I want to.” you reassure him, “I just don’t know about being on top.” you say a little nervously.

“You don’t have to, I just thought it might be better for you.” He explains, looking into your eyes to gauge how you’re feeling.

“I don’t know what it feels like and I don’t want to take the risk of going too deep before you’re ready. So I think it’s better like this because you can decide.” he says gently as he brushes some hair out of your face.

You nod and after a few more loving words from Hawks, you take a deep breath before slowly sinking down, just enough so that the tip pushes through your folds.

The moment you do, you can tell from how hard Keigo’s jaw is clenching that it’s taking everything in him to keep steady and not lose control.

Gentle hands on your waist as you slowly adjust and take a little more, “There we go, birdie. Just like that, fuck-” he leans in to kiss you softly as you finally take the entire length of his cock, “Such a good girl for me.”

Shoto Todoroki - his first time

I think he likes to take things seriously, which is why he’s never done anything intimate like this with anyone until you.

King of overthinking, runs through a million different scenarios, worrying you’ll regret it or he’ll do the wrong thing.

Dare I say he doesn’t manage to last long at first.

Shoto’s face is the reddest you’ve ever seen, skin hot to the touch as he blurts out a million apologies,

“I’m so sorry- shit- I-” he can hardly look you in the eyes.

You had planned on giving him a blowjob but the moment your hand wrapped around his cock, he was a goner, his cum instantly coating your hand. You could tell the embarrassment was threatening to swallow him whole as he looked down at the bed.

“It’s okay, Sho, really.” You smile reassuringly, a small laugh leaving your lips as his cock still twitches in your hand.

“You’re laughing-” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry, it’s just your reaction after. I’m not laughing at that…If anything, I’m honoured.” you joke and he still refuses to make eye contact. “It’s completely fine.” you say as you place your hand under his chin and pull him in for a kiss.

He kisses you softly, a hand tentatively moving under your skirt and your eyes widen slightly in surprise. “Sho-”

“Jus’ let me. I need a moment to recuperate and hopefully by the time I’ve made you cum on my fingers, I’ll be less like a horny teenager and then we can try that again.” he teases with a smile as he pulls back from the kiss. Watching your face as his hand slips into your panties, causing you to lean your head against his shoulder as you let his fingers slide inside you.

Katsuki Bakugo - your first time together

He knows what he’s doing and is more than confident but with you? He freaks out because it’s different, you guys are in an actual serious relationship.

Attentive, very attentive, wants to quickly learn what you like and what you don’t.

The moment he picks up on what causes those sweet little sounds of yours, the confidence is right back.

You were currently on all fours on the bed, head hung low as you tried to keep up with Bakugo’s intense thrusts. His hand grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls on it enough for you to lift your head, eyes meeting his in the mirror in front of you.

And he doesn’t miss the way your walls clench around his cock from the action, a devilish grin crossing his face. “You like that, huh?” he teases, giving another slight tug for you to answer.

“Yes- I- god-yes.” you barely manage to say.

“Always thought you were innocent. Blushing at every dirty joke I make, acting like a shy virgin.” he chuckles darkly, “Bet you’re more depraved than I am.”

As he increases the pace of his thrusts, his hand leaves your hair to play with your sensitive clit. He focuses on every twitch he gets out of you, every soft moan, every breath hitch. He’s determined to learn his way around your body, wants to touch you like nobody has before.

You learned what he likes pretty fast and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do the same with you. As his other hand snakes underneath you, toying with one of your nipples, he knows from the tightening of your walls that he’s got you.

And once he has you gushing around his cock, he’s following right through, burying himself to the hilt as he fills you up, clinging to you to savour the moment.

༄ m.list

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗘𝗚𝗚𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗚𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗬

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt uses his loss on the egg challenge as an excuse to reveal Y/N's pregnancy to his brothers.

WARNING: Pregnancy, crying.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I've decided to post it today since it's Father's Day on Brazil! Unfortunately, I had to write it in a rush, so I'm sorry if it's not that good ;(

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Matt, Nick, and Chris had spent the morning engaged in their latest YouTube challenge; a seemingly simple task of caring for an egg as if it were their own child. What had started as a lighthearted competition quickly turned into something more meaningful, though none of them knew it yet.

Nick leaned back in his chair, his arms folded behind his head, exuding confidence as he glanced at the table. His egg sat intact in front of him, a proud reminder of his victory. He smirked at Matt, who sat across from him, his egg conspicuously absent, the pieces of it having already been swept into the trash.

"Well, Matt, it looks like you lost." Nick teased, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. His grin widened, knowing exactly how to get under his brother's skin.

Chris, sitting at the other end of the table, tried to suppress his laughter but failed, the sound escaping as a snort. He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Seriously, dude, how did you even have the courage to throw your egg after knowing that it was already cracked?"

But instead of a witty comeback or a defensive retort, Matt remained silent. His usually quick tongue was stilled, and his shoulders slumped slightly as he stared at the table in front of him. His brothers’ laughter echoed around the kitchen, but Matt seemed miles away.

From her spot by the kitchen counter, Y/N observed the scene unfold, her smile soft and her eyes filled with affection as she watched the brothers banter. She had always loved these moments, the way they could turn the simplest tasks into something fun and full of life. But today, something was different. Matt wasn’t joining in the laughter, and the silence coming from him made her heart tighten with concern.

Matt’s eyes met Y/N’s across the room, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away. Her smile faltered, replaced by a look of curiosity and worry as she noticed the unspoken emotion in his gaze. It wasn’t defeat or frustration over the challenge; it was something deeper, something that made her heart skip a beat. What was he thinking? What was he hiding?

Nick’s voice cut through the tension, snapping Matt out of his thoughts.

"Come on, Matt, admit it. You’re just not cut out for fatherhood." Nick joked, his tone light but teasing.

Chris chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a playful grin.

"Yeah, maybe it’s a good thing you’re not a dad yet."

The words, meant in jest, struck Matt like a physical blow. He inhaled sharply, his gaze flickering to Y/N once more, and this time, her eyes widened in realization. Her hand instinctively moved to her stomach, a small, unconscious gesture that Matt had seen her do countless times since they discovered the news. It was a habit she had developed; whenever she felt nervous, excited, or overwhelmed, her hand would rest there, a protective touch that spoke of the new life growing inside her.

Matt took a deep breath, turning his gaze back to his brothers.

"My egg 'broke,' so technically, I lost-" Matt began, his voice quiet, almost detached as he tried to find the right words.

Nick interrupted him, raising an eyebrow in confusion as he imitated Matt’s air quotes.

"'Broke'? Motherfucker, it broke." His voice was full of bewilderment, unsure of why Matt was choosing to word it that way.

But Matt wasn’t paying attention to Nick’s teasing anymore. He pushed back his chair and stood up, the scraping of the legs against the floor breaking the comfortable rhythm of the morning. All eyes were on him as he walked over to the counter, where Y/N stood, her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him. He leaned against the counter, positioning himself next to her, his hand brushing against hers in a silent exchange of comfort and support.

Nick and Chris exchanged puzzled glances, the playful atmosphere from moments ago now replaced with a sense of anticipation. Matt was rarely this serious, especially during their videos, and the change in his demeanor left them both on edge.

"What’s going on, Matt?" Chris asked, his voice steady but laced with curiosity, his arms crossing over his chest as he studied his brother.

Matt took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He and Y/N had talked about how to break the news to Nick and Chris for days. They had planned it out, imagined different scenarios, and rehearsed how it might go. But now, standing here in the kitchen with the camera still rolling, Matt realized that all those plans didn’t matter. There was no perfect way to tell them; there was only the truth.

"I didn’t lose." Matt said, his voice stronger now, filled with emotion that he could no longer hide. He took a step closer to Y/N, his hand finding hers and squeezing it gently. His eyes never left his brothers as he spoke. "My baby is safe and sound... right in the oven."

The words hung in the air for a moment, the meaning not immediately sinking in for Nick and Chris. They blinked, their expressions mirroring each other’s confusion as they tried to make sense of what Matt had just said.

"The oven?" Nick repeated, glancing around the kitchen. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Chris frowned, his gaze following Nick’s to the actual oven, which was clearly off.

"Matt, what are you-"

But before Chris could finish, Matt shook his head and smiled softly, a smile that held all the love and anticipation he had been carrying for weeks. He gently guided Y/N’s hand to her stomach, the gesture so tender and full of meaning that it spoke louder than any words ever could.

"The oven," Matt repeated, his voice a whisper now, thick with emotion. "Right here."

It was as if time stopped. Nick and Chris froze, their eyes widening in sync as the realization finally hit them. The weight of Matt’s words, the significance of the gesture; it all came crashing down on them at once.

"Wait... are you saying...?" Nick’s voice trailed off, the disbelief evident in every syllable.

Y/N looked up at Matt, her eyes shining with tears that she had been holding back for days. She nodded, her voice trembling with joy and nerves as she finally let the words out, the truth she had been dying to share.

"We’re pregnant." She whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "I’m pregnant."

For a heartbeat, the kitchen was silent. The camera continued to record, capturing every second of the moment that would change their lives forever.

And then, all at once, the emotions erupted.

Chris was the first to react. His eyes filled with tears that spilled over the rims, his face a mix of shock, joy, and overwhelming love. He stood up so abruptly that his chair almost fell, forgotten as he crossed the room in two long strides. Without a word, he pulled Matt and Y/N into a tight embrace, his arms encircling them both as he buried his face in Matt’s shoulder, his body trembling with sobs.

"Oh my God." Chris whispered, his voice cracking with the force of his emotions. "I can’t believe it. You’re going to be a dad, Matt. And Y/N... you’re going to be a mom."

Y/N found herself laughing through her own tears, the sound mixing with her soft sobs as she wrapped her arms around Chris, resting her head against his. She could feel Matt’s warm hand on her back, holding her close, grounding her in the moment.

"We were going to tell you guys differently, but..." Y/N’s voice faltered, the words catching in her throat as she tried to speak. Her lip quivered as she bit down on it, trying to hold back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to spill over.

Nick, who had been frozen in shock, finally seemed to snap out of it. He looked at Matt, then at Y/N, and back to Matt again, as if needing to confirm that this was real. His eyes were wide, his jaw slack, but then, slowly, a wide, joyous grin spread across his face.

"Holy shit!" Nick exclaimed, his voice full of excitement as he jumped up from his chair, his movements so sudden that it clattered to the floor. He didn’t care. All he could focus on was the fact that his brother was going to be a father. That they were going to be uncles.

Nick rushed over to join the group hug, wrapping his arms around the three of them and squeezing as hard as he could, his voice cracking with the intensity of his emotions.

"This is insane! I can’t believe we’re going to be uncles. Oh my God, Chris, we’re going to be uncles!"

Chris pulled back just enough to look at Nick, their faces mirroring the same shock and joy.

"Yes, you are." Y/N whispered, her voice filled with warmth and love. "You and Chris are going to be the best uncles in the world."

Matt couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He let them fall freely as he wrapped his arms around his brothers, holding them tight, feeling a surge of love and gratitude that left him breathless. This wasn’t the way they had planned it, but it felt right. It felt perfect. He could feel Chris’s shoulders shaking as he cried, and when he finally pulled back to look at his brothers, he saw the same tears in Nick’s eyes.

Chris wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, a huge, teary grin spreading across his face.

"You sneaky bastards." He said, his voice still thick with his crying. "You kept this from us!"

"We wanted to surprise you." Matt said, finally finding her voice again, though it was still shaky with laughter and tears. "But I just couldn’t wait."

Nick looked at him, his grin turning mischievous.

"So, technically, you didn’t lose the challenge, huh?"

Matt chuckled, shrugging as he looked at the Y/N glued to his side.

"Nope, I didn’t lose. I think I actually won something even better."

Chris wiped at his eyes again, sniffling as he looked at Y/N, his expression soft and full of love.

"You two are going to be amazing parents. This little one is so lucky to have you."

Y/N reached out and took Chris’s hand, squeezing it tightly as she smiled through her tears.

"Thank you, Chris. That means the world to us."

Nick clapped his hands together, the grin never leaving his face.

"Well, I guess this calls for a celebration, huh? Let’s order some food and make this the best day ever."

They all agreed, the room filling with the sound of their joy, and as they gathered around the kitchen table, Matt couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man in the world.

He looked at Y/N, who was beaming at him, her eyes still sparkling with tears, and ge couldn’t help but think that this was the best video they’d ever made; not because of the challenge, but because it captured a moment that would change their lives forever.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Extra - comments

"this has to be the best twist ever 😭😭 I was NOT expecting Matt to drop that bombshell at ALLLL"

"omg, they're going to be such amazing parents 🥺"

"chris’s reaction had me in TEARS!!! the way he just broke down crying when he realized he’s going to be an uncle… this is why I love them so much, they're so genuine 😞"

"nick’s face when he finally understood what matt meant by ‘the oven’ LMAOOO"

"FUCK NO, I was laughing so hard during the egg challenge, and then I ended up crying when matt revealed Y/N is pregnant 🤧"

"matt is going to be the greatest dad out there, I just know it 🙏🏻"

"who cares about a fucking broken egg when you’ve got a real baby on the way 😩"

"when matt said the baby was in the oven, I thought he was joking about the egg, I did NOT see that coming 🤡"

"please guys, let me in the group hug 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻"

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @earth2starkey @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @junnniiieee07 @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @soso-scarlettolivia @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw @colorthecosmos444 @thewhispersofthewaves @mattslolita @imwetforyourmom @mrl217 @sturnsmia @mattsfavbitchhh @sturnioloshacker @soursturniolo @blahbel668 @sarosfilms @moncherriis @tobesolonelyjess @zainabthescientist @littlemisswhore

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[tiza0925]

okok hear me out but Akaashi dating reader and she has a spit kink 👉🏻👈🏻 you don't have to write anything about it but i would love to hear about it from you! (i love your works sm 💗)

…i think you’ve just woken something inside me, anon 🫠

Intimate | 18+

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, praise kink, jealous!reader, dom!Akaashi, raw sex, multiple orgasms, slight dumbification, squirting, pussy slapping, petnames, little bit of choking, overstimulation, creampie, spit kink ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18

Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Female Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You’re not a jealous person, you swear.

Your relationship with Akaashi is the most secure relationship you’ve ever been in—not once has he ever given you a reason to doubt him. 

To not trust him. 

He’s shown you nothing but respect, kindness—god, so much love and patience—ever since you two started dating. 

But—

Your jaw ticks as you watch a random girl get a little too close to him—watching how she laughs a little too much and looks at him with stars in her eyes. 

You can’t blame her, though—you look at him the same way—he’s good-looking and deserves to be appreciated for that. 

But that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t get to you whenever you see other people do it. 

Especially this particular girl who seems to refuse to leave his side ever since you two arrived at Kuroo’s house party. 

Because apparently—she’s close with Bokuto. 

Which means she knows Akaashi. 

But you barely hear Akaashi talk about her so it’s either he doesn’t see her as close as she thinks they are—

Or he’s hiding something from you. 

But that would be ridiculous—it’s Akaashi. 

He wouldn’t.

Right? 

You take a sip from your drink, then you turn to the person who’s currently talking to you—you think her name is Yachi—and you give her a slightly apologetic look as you walk away and straight towards him. 

And the girl that’s seemingly too giddy with whatever Akaashi is saying. 

It’s why you come up to his side with a small smile at the other girl, your arms around his waist, and Akaashi stops mid-sentence to look at you with a slightly concerned look—his one eyebrow raised as he asks in a soft murmur, “You okay?” 

You hum, a small smile threatens to pull at your mouth as he wraps one arm around you, holding you closer, and you nod. “Just tired.” 

He gives your waist a small squeeze, his voice a soft rumble against you. “Wanna go home then?” 

You blink up at him, then you quickly glance at the girl that was talking to him—and you feel a slight bud of satisfaction in your chest when you notice how annoyed she looks—and you nod, blinking up at him all sweetly. “Please?”

You end up in the passenger seat of his car a few moments later—looking out the window—as he drives you two home.

It’s quiet—comfortably so—as you watch light posts and buildings until—

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” 

You hear him ask that, his voice calm and quiet, and your eyes widen with surprise as your heart flips. 

You blink, turning to look at him—his eyes remaining on the road ahead—and you frown. “What?” 

“Suddenly wanting to go home and hugging me like that,” Akaashi then turns his head a little to give you a look like he knows something. “What was that about?” 

Oh. 

Was it that obvious how you felt? 

You blink. 

Silent. 

Then you swallow hard, playing dumb as you look away, murmuring, “…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

But then you hear him let loose a low, caustic laugh—as if he doesn’t believe you—and you feel his hand, heavy and large on your thigh, with the heat seeping through your pants and skin, as he gives it a small squeeze. “Alright.” 

It’s how you end up with your face stuffed into a pillow, back arched, and ass out the moment you two arrive back home—

“Oh fuck—”

And you’re cumming around a thick cock with your moan getting muffled into the cushion. 

“Look how well you take me,” His voice comes out a low drawl, sounding so nonchalant as if he isn’t fucking you deep into your cunt with a harsh grip around your waist—holding you in place as Akaashi makes you take all of him with your orgasm throbbing through you. 

Your mind goes numb, and you whine when he drags his dick against your G-spot, overstimulating you. 

“Keiji—fuck—please—”

But then he pulls out—leaving you empty and pulsing around nothing—causing a trickle of your juice to leak out, and you let out a sudden cry when Akaashi leaves a harsh slap against your wet pussy with his hand. 

“Turn around.” 

Fuck. 

You listen almost immediately—moving to lay on your back, breathing heavily, and Akaashi smiles down at you from the bridge of his nose, admiring you for just a moment—

Then he’s hooking your legs over his shoulder—and your eyes grow wide when you feel the head of his cock slide over your drooling pussy, bumping your clit that has your head going dizzy, and then—

“Do you think she’d be able to take me as well as you do?”

Then he starts to ask that—in that taunting, calm voice of his—and your cheeks grow hot at the mere mention of that girl, jealousy pricking the edges of your vision and—

You whimper when he pushes his cock back inside you, filling you and making you feel so full as he rolls his hips against yours, building that sweet buzzing ache in your pussy again. 

Akaashi watches the way your cunt swallows him so perfectly—his girth opening you up as you cream all over him—and he wets his lips, his smirk turning lecherous. “You think she’d look this pretty around my cock too, baby?”

He’s not blind.

He can pick up on the small signs of jealousy from you with just a small look, word—even the way you act.

He’s observant—and he clearly didn’t miss the way you were eyeing that girl from earlier.

You suck in a large breath, feeling him in your damn throat as he fucks you languidly, and your voice is breathy when you bite out a response. “Why don’t you go and find out for yourself then.” 

Akaashi leans down and god—you sob out a moan when he nearly bends you in half, shoving his dick so deep into you that your entire body goes limp. 

You’re practically shaking as his lips hover over yours, and his eyes—all half-lidded as he observes you—grow alight with something darker and amused as he hums lowly. “I don’t think I will.” 

He pulls out, the tip of his dick catching your hole, then he immediately thrusts back in with one, harsh slap of his skin against yours—making you gasp as your juices gush out. “Nobody else can get messy like you do, baby.” 

His smirk comes slow and syrupy, his hooded eyes observing you—how your eyes are glossy with tears threatening to spill out—and he goes to pull on your lower lip with his mouth, kissing you so achingly soft despite the harsh fucking. “Nobody else feels this tight around me.” 

You moan against him, your arms numbly wrapping around his neck as you take his cock pushing in and out of you—your pussy swallowing him whole like it needs his dick in there. 

It’s so fucking needy that even when you feel him digging into your lungs with his cock—you still want more of him, that swelling ache in your clit just begging for it.

And god—he gives it to you. 

He fucks you with one hand coming to thumb your sensitive clit—rubbing it in slow circles with your juices coating it until you’re clenching around his cock, squeezing him and throbbing as you cum for a second time. 

“Shit,” Akaashi groans, driving into you as his head gets foggy with lust, and heat overwhelms him as you make a mess on you both—clear liquid squirting out of your poor little pussy with every rock of his hips, and tears finally spill down your cheeks with oversensitivity. 

“Don’t cry, angel,” Akaashi soothes you, his voice throaty and heavy, and his hand that was on your clit comes up to wipe your tears—spreading your fluids all over your face and getting you dirty as he calmly shushes you. “You asked for this.” 

You know. 

You just didn’t anticipate how intense Akaashi will be to make sure you know that you were being irrational for feeling jealous—to fuck you until you felt all loose and dumb from his dick that you can’t do or say anything but whimper and cry for him. 

God—

You suck in small, gasping breaths as he slides his hand down until he’s rolling his thumb over your bottom lip, and—

And then his pupils grow wide and dark, there’s a small tick at the side of his lips that looks carnal, and your heart leaps into your throat as he forces your mouth open as he presses down onto your lip—your heart thundering in your ears as you watch with shiny eyes, unsure what he plans to do until—

Until he also opens his mouth as well, and your mind grows heady with submission with your tongue out for him, your pussy clenching him so fucking tight as he lets a small, pearly glob of his saliva string down onto your tongue. 

And fuck—he lets out a low groan of approval, making your chest swell at how satisfied he looks as you please him. 

“Swallow.” His voice is so deceptively soft.

But you listen and swallow. 

With no hesitation. 

And it should feel gross with him spitting in your mouth like that—making you feel like some whore under him—

But instead—it does things to you. 

It makes things so much more fucking intimate. 

You keep eye contact with him as your throat bobs with an obedient swallow, your body moving with every thrust of him inside you, and Akaashi can’t help but lean down to kiss you so deeply that you shudder against him—

“Such a good girl for me—shit,” His hand comes to the front of your neck, his calloused fingers wrapping around it and giving it a little squeeze, making you moan as you sloppily kiss him back, your vision growing blurry. 

Then he leans back, hand still on your throat, and his chest rise and falls as he continues to fuck your abused pussy, your fluids making a mess, and he turns his head to brush his lips against your calf. 

“I want you to cum on my cock again, love, you do it so well for me.”

Then he brings his other hand to press on your lower stomach, making you keen with a wet moan—and you feel so fucked out and dumb in the head as another orgasm steadily pulses through you. 

“And say my name when you do, love,” Akaashi breathes out lowly, his dick in your guts as he pushes his hand down a little more, “Because nobody else gets to do that except you.” 

More clear liquid gushes out of you, spraying and squirting all over him as your legs shake with another orgasm for that night—his name on your tongue, making his head spin as he fucks you through it. 

And then he’s spurting out thick loads of his hot cum into your sore pussy, shoving it further into you with every push of his cock inside your walls—making sure you know that only you get to be marked like this by him. 

end.

Masterpost