#and then they fuck messy and quick in the coat check

[betweensaintsandmonsters]

"Is this a mistake?" Obi-Wan asks, fiddling with the ring on Anakin's left hand, spinning it absently as he looks up at his boy.

Anakin for his part, pauses. It's a rare sight, to see him so still. The hand in Obi-Wan's hair slowly picks up it's aborted mission as Anakin seems to gather his thoughts.

It doesn't feel like a mistake; not really. Not when Obi-Wan moves past the doubt that's burrowed it's way into his chest that this man will grow tired of him, the fear that he'll lose someone else he loves and there will be nothing he can do about it.

They're getting married in 72 hours for god sake.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes to look up at Anakin. His fiance. His everything.

Anakin laughs then, and Obi-Wan can only stare at him, trying to figure out what's so funny.

"I don't know," his boy whispers when he's gotten himself under control. He radiates light even in his uncertainty, "but I'll always love you."

Obi-Wan pulls anakin's hand to his lips, kisses his palm just under his engagement ring.

-- -- --

They haven't been fighting, but they haven't been talking either. Their home exists in a perpetual state of purgatory. A war solemnly awaiting a ceasefire. A wishbone about to snap.

Obi-Wan's side of the bed is cold.

Breakfast is on the counter but there's no note, not like there used to be.

Anakin misses lazy kisses good morning.

Anakin misses life not getting in the way.

Anakin wishes they were fighting. He think that would make the slow devolution of his marriage feel like something.

-- -- -- --

"Sometimes loving you feels a little bit like bleeding out. I know it's happening but no amount of pressure can stop it." Anakin says to the ceiling one night, his voice cracking.

He sobs when Obi-Wan pulls him into his chest.

-- -- -- --

"If I could," Obi-Wan swallows. There's a foot between them on the couch. He clutches the blanket he's wrapped around himself closer to his chest before reaching for Anakin's hand.

They've been talking. In retrospect, they should have done this earlier, years ago maybe. Maybe they wouldn't be in this situation if that were the case. The worst part is, he thinks they're still in love. Knows he will love this man until the day he dies, but they're bleeding out.

It doesn't make it easier.

The divorce papers are on the coffee table.

"If I could," he starts again, "I'd leave a five star review. Easiest man in the world to love."

Maybe easiest is the wrong word. But it's so easy to love Anakin, his boyish smiles, his passion, his light.

Anakin wipes at his eyes, clearly fighting tears.

It feels like that's all they've been doing for months.

"I'd leave you four and a half," he whispers, "Best man, can't cook for shit."

"Sounds about right."

He doesn't bother fighting his own tears.

-- -- -- --

The lawyers had reviewed the divorce papers. The judge had signed off. The world had stopped moving.

Anakin didn't know who he was separate from Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's never had to know. He's not looking forward to figuring it out.

Outside the courthouse, Obi-Wan gives him a hug, pulls Anakin to his chest, buries his face in Anakin's hair and holds him there.

Anakin breaks.

Shatters.

"Is this a mistake?" Anakin asks against Obi-Wan's neck, fingers clutched in his suit jacket. It feels like a mistake. Feels like the world has narrowed down to this. To them. To the fact that this is the last time he'll be held by this man.

He feels the ghost of Obi-Wan's lips against the crown of his head, the shake of his hands around his back.

"I don't know," Obi-Wan says, voice barely there, "but just know, I'll love you always"

[dollfacefantasy]

WHICH ONE TO CHOOSE?

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader x chris redfield x carlos oliveira

summary: at a halloween party, you and your boyfriend play out a little fantasy with chris and carlos.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, anal, blowjobs, face fucking, foursome, cnc, praise/degradation, intoxication/alcohol, pre-planned roleplay scenario

wc: 4.2k

a/n: it's a little messy but i hope you guys like this one. it's set in an au where re characters are allowed to experience happiness <3 anyways comments, reblogs, and asks are always appreciated.

kinktober slot: day 26 - cnc

Holding Leon's hand tight in your own, you drag him along the cement pathway leading to Rebecca and Billy's front door. Their yard is decked out like it is every year you've been to one of these things. Cobwebs sprawl across the arch ways while purple and orange lights glow in each window. Skeletons hang by the doorway and loud music thumps from inside.

Pushing open the mahogany surface, you stretch your free arm above your head and announce your presence.

Rebecca who's standing near the entryway hears the call of your voice and turns to greet you. A smile spreads across her lips as she takes in you and Leon together.

"There you two are. I was starting to wonder if you couldn't make it this year," she says.

"Pfft. Please, the year we miss one of your parties is the year Leon's horrible driving has taken us out on the way here," you joke, earning chuckles from her and Billy who's come up from behind her.

Leon, in contrast to them, shakes his head before wrapping his arm around your neck and pulling you closer to him. 

"Don't encourage her," he tells them with a suppressed smile.

Rebecca playfully rolls her eyes and waves him off. The song switches in the background, going from something low and quick to the slower melody of Eyes Without a Face.

"Really though, it's great to see you both. You guys look great," she praises.

"Thank you," you beam at the compliment, smoothing out the blood-spattered, white dress that covered your figure. Glancing up at Leon, you pull his Jason mask down over his features so that the looks are complete. 

"You and Billy look super cute too," you continue as your eyes scan over their simple matching doctor and nurse outfits, Rebecca being the one in the doctor's white coat and the tall man behind her in the little hat with the red cross on it.

She thanks you in return, and the two of you chatter on while you migrate into the living room to join the rest of the party. The usual crowd spans across the main part of the house, from the couches near the fireplace to the bar set up in the kitchen. While you yourself are not a government employee, you'd become friends with almost everyone here who is over the course of your relationship with Leon.

You prance over to Claire and Jill sitting on the sofa first, giving the younger woman a big hug over her shoulders from behind before reaching for Jill and bringing her in too. Claire returns the embrace by covering your forearm with her palm while Jill pats your bicep in acknowledgement.

You take in their costumes too. Claire has ditched her red jacket for the night and instead dons a black sweater with bat wings attached to the back. Jill, on the other hand, looks like she just got off of work, but you suppose soldier could technically be a costume.

"How are you guys? Oh my gosh, Jill it's been so long since I last saw you," you gush.

They give the usual small talk responses, checking in on you as well. Their eyes flit to Leon a few feet behind you with brief waves.

"Have you been keeping him in line?" Claire teases with a smile.

You nod proudly and lean back, wrapping your hands around his arm. "You know it," you chirp.

The small group of you banter back and forth for a while, catching up, talking about plans for the future. Even though these are Leon's friends, you're often much more talkative with them than he is. It's an arrangement that works for you both. You never mind taking the weight of socialization off his shoulders.

After the conversation with Claire and Jill runs its course, the two of you head to the bar. Your hips sway to the pulsing of the music playing while Leon rests a hand on the curve of your side. You and him traverse through the gathering of less familiar faces, friends of friends or newbies you hadn't acquainted yourself with yet. When you reach a clear area on-looking the kitchen, you immediately spot Chris leaning against the wall with a drink in hand. A generic wolf mask sits next to him on the counter, the costume he'd already abandoned.

You dart over to him with a smile on your face, ready to hug him as soon as you're close enough. He startles a little from the sudden contact against his chest, but once he sees it's you, your happiness infects him and softens the look in his eyes. His large palm lands on your back, giving you a few small pats.

"Hey you," he says.

"Hey yourself," you respond and pull back.

He nods at Leon and looks between the two of you.

"Cute costume. You supposed to be Leon's helpless victim?" he teases.

"Mhm," you hum with a nod.

You're about to say something else, but the man in the kitchen who'd been making a drink with his back towards you turns around.

"Carlos?" you say when you catch sight of his face, your smile morphing into a grin.

He wears a similar expression and rounds the counter to be closer. You spring against him with more enthusiasm than you had for Chris, and he returns the sentiment with a crushing grip.

"Oh my god, I didn't know you were gonna be here!" you say.

You hadn't seen Carlos in a while, longer than you hadn't seen Jill. He only came to these things when he was in the area, which wasn't all too often these days. Leon wasn't the closest with him either, but you always thought he was so fun. He was outgoing and funny, charismatic with the perfect level of charm. Plus, it didn't hurt that he looked like a god. To put it in simple terms, you had a little crush on him. Nothing too serious but definitely enough to trigger involuntary butterflies in your stomach when you saw him.

"I think Leon wanted it to be a surprise," he says with a little smirk.

You glance at your boyfriend. He nods at you with a knowing look, still watching you in the other man's arms.

Even without words you know what it means. While your touchy behavior would have been an absolute no with any of your past partners, Leon didn't share that same possessive outlook on the matter. He enjoyed watching you be all over others only to be the one that got to take you home. He liked when his friends like Chris or Carlos lusted over you, trying to cop a feel during a hug or speaking as if you're available for the taking. It just prodded at some primal part of his brain that he didn't have control over. None of it ever upsets him. He doesn't get jealous, he gets horny.

That aspect of his personality was why Carlos's appearance was a surprise for you. Tonight after the party, you and your boyfriend had already made plans with Chris, but obviously now, Carlos was going to be involved too, and that was more than ok with you.

You press your cheek to his chest and tighten your arms that are already wrapped around him.

"You look so good. You totally need to visit more often," you say to the bulky man against you.

He chuckles, giving you another small squeeze in return. "For you, I would," he teases, his hand grazing over your ass as he lets you go.

A giggle trickles from your lips, and you follow him back around the counter to the main part of the kitchen. From here, you get a good look at his body. He's muscular as ever, his tight white shirt only accentuating that mass. In your excitement, you hadn't noticed his costume which was similar to yours. White fabric with red dye flicked across it. Only he had some face make up too. You guessed a zombie or something in that vein.

He catches your stare. "You really missed me, huh?" he asks teasingly.

"Of course I did," you say, "Now are you gonna pour me a drink, or do I have to do it myself?"

He laughs and grabs a few nearby bottles, pouring a mix into a black cup for you. Passing it into your hands, he watches you take the first drink.

Things would only get better from there.

Over the next few hours, you get yourself buzzed. You gulp down each drink you're handed with joy. The smile gracing your features grows hazy, your eyes become cloudy and your voice gets extra giggly.

Suddenly, you're super touchy. Your hand lands on the forearm of whoever you're speaking too. Sometimes it trails up a bit, teasing the bicep of the person. You bite your lip more and nod emphatically at points that probably don't deserve it. Leon keeps an eye on you, but so do Carlos and Chris.

After a while, you migrate over to the open area closer to the speakers. You dance to the blaring music, your body bobbing around to the pulsating beats. Even though Leon had never been one for dancing, he holds your hips and grinds up against you from behind. You feel his breaths on your neck and the tip of his nose brushing your jawline.

The song switches over to something with more guitar rather than synth, and a firm set of fingers wraps around your wrist. The mysterious force tugs you to them, but becomes a lot less confusing when you look up and see Carlos smiling down at you.

"Mind if I cut in for a second, Kennedy?" he asks.

Like he's supposed to, Leon stares him down before tersely shaking his head. This was all part of the game of course. Everyone had to play their part to earn the high score with you.

You giggle and lean into him, your head resting against the plush muscles in his chest. He starts swaying the two of you to the music. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leon move to the wall where Chris is standing. Carlos keeps you focused though, grabbing your chin and turning you back towards him.

He guides your movements. His hips roll against yours in deep motions. One of his muscular arms is wrapped around your back while the other sits in the position to hold your ass. Both feel so good, like live wires resting against your skin.

You dance with him. Your arms rise up and drape around his neck. You follow his movements, letting him take you through the sequence with ease. it makes your head spin. Not only the thrill of being with someone else, but the feeling of your boyfriend watching on.

All the excitement swirling with the liquor leaves you feeling kind of dizzy as the song ends. You stumble back from Carlos. He reaches for you, trying to make sure you stay up right and don't go crashing down on your ass in front of everyone. That isn't part of the plan.

"'m fine," you say, "Just gotta go to the bathroom real quick."

Waltzing away, you snake around the furniture without any grace and make your way to the hall that leads to the rest of Billy and Rebecca's home. You find the door to the bathroom easily, but opening it doesn't come with the same lack of difficulty.

Before you can process what's happening, someone is right behind you. Your hand rests on the cool knob. A little shudder goes through you at the feeling of the weight against your back.

"Are you sure you're ok, princess? You look a little wobbly," rasps Carlos directly into your ear.

"I'm fine," you say again, this time with a little more whine in your voice.

"I don't know... you look like you're barely standing on your own," he murmurs in your ear, "I think your boyfriend would want me to look after you."

His hands slide around on your waist. They coast up over your ribs to cup your breasts through your dress. You pant at the touch, your skin breaking out into chills.

"No... I don't, 'm fine. I'll be right back..." you say. Your voice sounds airy and distant. The movement of your hands match as they fruitlessly try to push his hands down.

He chuckles, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling beside your head. Pulling you backwards, his back lands against the wall and your body presses into him. His arms close around you in a tighter circle.

"Cute girl like you... I just don't think you should be left alone," he teases.

You whimper and squirm your hips, pushing them back against his pelvis. He lets out a soft groan at the sensation and keeps you right there.

"Look at you, just asking for someone to take advantage," he whispers.

You're about to turn your head to look up at him, but before you can, a new set of fingers nudges your chin upward in their owner's direction. Chris stares into your eyes, smirking at how helpless you look.

"He's right, sweetheart," he chides, "You're lucky you have us watching out for you."

His voice is husky as he leans closer. You can feel his breath fanning over your face.

"The way you were prancing around out there, showing yourself off in your little dress... anyone could've followed you back here. And who could blame them? Who wouldn't want a taste?" he continues.

His fingers skim your thighs and ghost over the space below the white hem. They toy with the fabric, teasing the idea that they'll peel it upwards to reveal the lacy panties you wear underneath.

Another pathetic noise trickles from your lips because you want him to. God, you want him to. You'd let them both ravish you right there in the middle of the hall. One holding you in his strong arms while the other pumped his dick in and out of your slick cunt.

Carlos noses at your jaw. His lips graze over your pulse point while his hands grope your breasts with more intent. There would be no mistaking his touches as accidental now. He grabs at them through your dress, pinching at your hardening nipples over the barrier.

You rock your ass back against him again. "Guys... we can't..." you babble as heat floods your body.

"Why not, princess?" Chris asks. He presses his front against your thigh, letting you feel his swelling bulge.

Your legs squirm and drift together. You try to squeeze your thighs for some friction, but he knocks them back apart with one of his knees.

"Leon... I'm with Leon," you breathe, doe eyes looking up at him with all the desire in the world.

"Oh, Leon, huh?" Carlos croons, "Would Leon have a problem with the way you’re rubbing up on me? With the way your pussy is dripping for Chris."

You whine and bite your lip before speaking. "It's not," you whimper.

"It is, baby," he says. One of his hands starts to slither South. "You're telling me that if I slipped my fingers under your dress and into those pretty panties, that I wouldn't feel you completely soaked for us? Is that what you're saying?"

Before you can defend yourself further, someone clears their throat from the end of the hall.

All of your heads snap in that direction to find Leon standing there, stiff as a board. He has his arms crossed; though, almost immediately they shift to rest on his hips. He looks like a disapproving parent staring at the three of you with disapproval all over his features.

Still, his harsh expression doesn't conceal the outline of his stiff cock in his pants.

"I don't think that's appropriate, guys," he says, "Feeling up on my girlfriend while she's telling you she has me?"

"It's not like that, Leon. We're watching out for her. Making sure she doesn't get into trouble. We're doing you a favor," Carlos grins. His hands drop from your breasts to your waist, but he makes sure to give the area a squeeze to let you know he's not done.

"Mhm. You know how she gets when she's been drinking," Chris says to him.

"I mean look. She may be saying no, but her body was just about begging for us," Carlos adds.

Your boyfriend hums in acknowledgement and watches with the same unyielding eyes. "Still don't think this is the place to deal with it," he says.

They both huff out laughs. "Probably not," Chris agrees.

"Some privacy would be best," Carlos continues.

You stand there, trying not to squirm as they talk like you're not even there. None of them look at you nor directly address you. The conversation is between them, deciding your fate. You just wait to be handed your sentence.

"Maybe we should head back to our place. Make sure the booze didn't get to her too much," Leon proposes, as if it was entirely his idea he thought of in the moment.

"Sounds good to me," Carlos says, patting your hip before boosting you forward.

"Same here," Chris grins.

You stumble over to your boyfriend who takes you under his arm. He looks down at you as if he's disappointed, though you can see the desire in his eyes. The two of you snake back through the hall and toward the front door.

"Were they bothering you, sweetheart?" he asks like he's truly concerned.

"Mhm," you hum and nod against his chest.

Your pair keeps walking, waving at Rebecca and Billy and giving them brief thank you's before walking back outside into the brisk October air.

Like you planned Chris and Carlos wait a little before following your path. None of you wanted to make it too obvious what you had planned for the rest of the night.

Each of you makes it back to your and Leon's house in record time it seems. He drives you and himself while the other two trail on their own. They enter through your front door only a few minutes after you and your boyfriend settle on the couch.

After that feels like a blur. There's hands all over you. They pass you around from one lap to the other. Your clothes fall to the floor piece by piece until you're left bare. They talk but rarely to you.  The voices and touches all swirl together in one big mess until the three of you land in a collective position.

Leon looms above you, his piercing eyes locked onto your face. His hips roll against your center. He pumps his cock deep between your soaked velvety walls with each precise thrust. His hands cradle the back of your thighs, keeping them spread apart so that you can't shut him out. He grins down at you.

"You might think it's too much, baby, but she clearly doesn't," he teases, "So, so wet."

"I'm not even in your pussy, and I can feel that. Such a messy girl," the voice behind you says.

Chris sits below you. His warm bulky thighs support the parts of you Leon's hands can't. Your back rests against his chest while his strong hands play with your nipples. His dick is buried snug inside your ass. He's not moving, thank god. The stretch is enough to nearly reduce you to tears.

"She's messy up top too," the man above you adds with a grin, his thumb swiping away some spit that had dribbled from the corner of your mouth.

Carlos had your head between his palms. He kept a firm grip on you as leverage to rock his hips, sliding his length into the plush wetness of your throat. Deep groans and sighs leak from his mouth as his head falls back.

You whine around the girth of his shaft, but you can't squirm. There's so much going on. Even though you're in a relatively simple position, it feels as though you're tangled up with the three men surrounding you.

"No backing out now, baby. This is what you wanted," Leon taunts as he thrusts.

"Such a little slut. Your boyfriend isn't enough for you, huh?" Chris teases, nipping at the shell of your ear.

You whine louder around Carlos as he fucks your face, but he takes no mercy. He doesn't slide out to let you defend yourself. He slides as deep as he can, nestling your nose against the thick dark hair that curls above the base of his cock.

"Sounds like a yeah to me," he chuckles.

A soft gagging noise echoes from your throat and your eyes water. He holds his position for a few seconds longer before pulling back to give you a few moments to breathe. You gasp in a few breaths. Your head spins with the return of sufficient oxygen. But you still feel hazy from the two cocks inside you, one unmoving and keeping you constantly full, the other rocking back and forth, striking every little spot inside you.

"Leon," you cry. Your head falls back on Chris's shoulder, "Too much."

He smirks at your repeated protest and keeps going. "Nope. You can handle it, babydoll. You wanted to play with other guys, so I'm letting you."

Chris's fingers rub at your clit, causing you to tighten up around Leon. He hisses from above, but it only makes him move faster. The harder thrusts rock you on Chris's length. He grunts from the added stimulation and keeps the rough pads of his digits twirling around your sensitive little nub.

"That's right, sweetheart. Just relax and take it," he mutters in your ear.

Carlos strokes your cheek while jerking his cock right in front of your face. You watch as precum pearls at the tip, dripping from the slit in sticky beads.

"Fuck... you're pretty, so fucking cute," he mumbles from above you.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. The urge to squirm becomes more pronounced. Your clit throbs under Chris's tender fingers while your walls clamp down on your boyfriend.

"Wanna cum," you whimper desperately.

"What happened to too much? Thought you said no more?" Carlos mocks.

"Don't care. Just wanna cum now," you cry. Your lip juts out into a quivering pout as you feel the pleasure growing more intense and spreading from between your legs all throughout your body. Tears dew at your waterline, making your lashes shimmer.

"Again? So greedy," Chris tuts from behind.

But in front, Leon nods with self-satisfaction all across his face. "You can cum, angel. Go ahead. Just know it won't be the last one."

You whine at the idea. You wanted release so bad, but you were already so overstimulated. It's not like you had any control over it though. You were climbing to the peak fast, and there was no way of going back down. Watching Carlos stroke himself to the sight of you getting your insides rearranged had your tummy fluttering with the urge to let go.

You try to hold it. Try to prolong it a bit more so that they're closer and cum with you. But at a certain point, you can't hold back anymore. Your back arches off of Chris's chest, and your whines fill the air. You shudder in his arms, quivering between him and Leon. Release crashes over you, wave after wave. It feels like the euphoria will never end when Leon finally groans and bursts inside you.

His cum floods your insides, filling you up just how you need it. He tilts his head back and sighs as the feeling seeps into him. As you're feeling the added effects from his high, Carlos reaches his. He moans nice and loud before painting your face with white streaks. The warm sticky liquid lands on you in patternless blotches.

You whimper but not in protest. It was what you wanted. The only thing that would make it better is Chris filling up your other hole too, but he stays hard and still, not giving in just yet.

Your boyfriend comes to a halt with his thrusts and slowly pulls out. Some of his cum leaks out as his length leaves your cunt. You whine at the empty feeling.

"Hush," he murmurs as he steps back. He catches his breath from a distance, but he knows none of you are done. Even with him and Carlos temporarily spent, they'd get it back up soon enough. "So needy. You still got one of us inside you, and you're complaining."

"Easy thing to do is to just give her what she wants again," Carlos says, "You and I could switch since Redfield seems comfortable."

Your boyfriend nods, looking between you and the other man.

"Sound good, baby?" he asks as if you actually get a say, "Carlos will put another load in your pussy, and I'll let you actually swallow mine this time around."

Even though your cunt aches with all the pleasure it's endured and your jaw feels sore from taking a dick in your mouth for the last however long... you nod. Despite what you said, you hadn't had enough. You really didn't know if you ever would.

[lookingformoondrop]

Yan!Andrew with his Reader who found out she's pregnant? Spoiler: She didn't want to have children.

Yan!Andrew Graves x Preg!Reader

TW: Unexpected pregnancy, hints at abortion, reader in captivity, manipulation, yandere Andrew, unwanted pregnancy

♡ Notes: I wrote this entire thing while on a train so you'll probably find a wild typo or error font somewhere here. I said in my last post that my next work would be a fluffy one, I lied. Sorry. Remember kids, practice safe sex, and dont act like Andy. Thank you so much for supporting me, anon! I appreciate all the requests and asks from you guys. <33

Andrew hummed as he removed his shoes and took off his coat.

Work was a drag, his boss was a dick, and his family was unbearable. But despite it all, he had you at the end of the day.

When he came home, he'd always hear your padded footsteps coming down the hall to greet him.

You'd wear one of his shirts or wear a cute outfit he'd pick out for you, all to make him happy.

He just loves you so much.

I mean, that's why he took you in the first place.

You had no idea who he was, only that he was a customer that came at odd times of the day in the cafe where you worked.

He could only guess how poor the pay must've been. How miserable you were... Yes, that's it.

As he watched you, he could spot the circles under your eyes, and he knew instantly that fate had brought you here, or maybe it was a cult summoning? Either way, you belonged with him. And he would bend heaven and earth to keep it that way.

Andrew blinked away his train of thought and looked up. He hadn't heard your footsteps.

That was unusual.

Andrew quickly slipped his bag to the ground and walked further into the house.

The kitchen was empty, minus the dishes and pots from last night's dinner that still remained untouched in the sink.

The living room was empty, minus the tissues scattered all over the floor, and the blankets that pooled the floor.

With his heart racing, he sprinted to the last room he hadn't checked. The bedroom.

He pushed the door open with haste; his eyes wildly searched the room.

The bed was unmade, and the sheets were shoved off the mattress, trailing onto the wooden floor.

As Andrew stepped further into the bedroom and he could hear the sound of the shower, and small sniffles coming from inside.

Andrew let out a sigh of relief, you hadn't left. You were still home with him. But now he had another problem to deal with.

He knocked on the bathroom door and heard a quick shuffle from the other side. The water turned off and Andrew flinched at the sound of objects crashing.

Then out you came, your eyes were red and your hair was messy, as if your fingers ran through them constantly.

You mustered a smile for Andrew, muttering out a weak 'welcome home' before Andrew grabbed your arms for inspection.

"What happened? What were you doing? Why were you crying?" He craned his neck out to try and look inside the bathroom, but you quickly closed the door.

"I was about to take a shower when you came home so uh, I dropped some bath products when I realized I hadn't greeted you." It was a horrible lie, really. You knew lying was one of Andrew's biggest pet peeves, even if he lied consistently himself.

"My little lamb, you're not making a lot of sense right now..." Andrew tried giving you a sweet smile, but the vein twitching in his forehead told you how he really felt.

His grip on your arms became tighter, and he leaned in closer, "I would like to know what you're keeping from me, please."

"I... I was crying," you cringed at how weak your voice sounded.

"Clearly, what else? Don't stall for time you don't have Y/N. Tell me who hurt you, I don't fucking care for the reason."

You peeled Andrew's hands off of you which was surprising giving his intense tone. You slowly walked to the bed and sat down, tracing the thread that was imbedded in your mattress. Your eyes lingered on the white sheets for a second too long.

Andrew followed suit, instead opting to go on his knees in front of you as to hold your hands.

He traced his name on your wrists with his finger and hummed a low tune, unremarkable at best, but it calmed your nerves.

"You are my bleeding heart, Y/N. Everything you feel, I long to taste, everything you love, I devour, and every secret you keep from me I savagely rip apart to find. What could you possibly keep from me, that I wouldn't find out in under a day?"

You kept still, refusing to meet Andrew's gaze.

"You have to promise you won't.. um, get mad." You chewed on your lip as you thought about your next words. The lump in your throat grew harder to swallow the more you thought about it.

How were you supposed to deliever such... news, when that news made you want to rip your hair out from stress.

"yeah, I promise. My little lamb, tell me, what is wrong?"

"I'm scared, Andrew." You looked up.

"Scared?" Answered Andrew, who let go of your wrists to instead settle around your waist.

He continued, "What could you possibly have to fear while with me? Are you afraid of someone?"

You shook your head, "no, well maybe, not yet I-" You took deep breaths, your chest felt like it was going to crack from the pressure.

"Not yet? What does that even mean?" Andrew furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose, trying to make sense of it all.

"Andrew, do you know what day of the month it is?"

Andy groaned; his patience was begging to grow thin. "Y/N, I'm done playing this game with you. Are you trying to provoke me to extreme measures or something?"

"No! Just... answer the question. What day of the month is it?"

Andrew shrugged, "It's the first of the month. It's my mom's birthday. It's trash day. It's Monday. I don't fucking know what this has to do with our conversation, Y/N!?"

"No Andrew, just listen to me! Look, I usually get my period on the first of every month. But last month I didn't get my period."

"So?" Andrew looked at you with annoyance in his features.

"So.... I should have gotten my period last month, but I didn't. I'm not an irregular person and I've been here awhile so..."

Andrew's features stayed scrunched with confusion and annoyance as the words mulled over in his head.

Then it hit him.

Andrew fell back on his butt in shock, staring at you, your belly, and then back to you. The realization so big that his brain stopped the train to language station.

"You're pregnant?" He muttered.

You nodded, the tears that danced on your waterline finally falling. Your chest shook, and you gasped deep breaths, the pressure you had on your chest this morning, becoming ten-fold the weight as Andrew processed this information.

Your head hung low as the sobs shook your ribcage.

Without realizing it, Andrew got back up and sat beside you on the bed.

Wrapping his arms around your head and body, so that your body pushed against his chest.

A gigantic smile placed itself on his face, every bad thing that happened up until that point dispearred in a cloud. The only thing he could think about was the baby you were growing.

His baby.

Finally, Andrew let you go and grabbed your face, lifting it up so that he could place gentle kisses on your forehead. "My Y/N, thank you. This... fuck, I thought you were going to say something horrible, but this? Shit, this is the best news I could have ever heard, well maybe besides news of my sister's death or imprisonment but shit this is even better!"

His kisses became harder and more passionate. But he hadn't noticed the soul that had left your body. Instead, you looked at him terrified.

"But... Andrew, I'm not ready for this. I- I don't even think I'm old enough to be raising children, let alone birth one. This thing could rip me apart." Your breathing became quicker, the pressure on your chest becoming an unbearable pain.

You were so sure that Andrew would hate the idea of children, that he would have the initiative to take this thing out of you, but he was so happy, so much so he couldn't be bothered to notice your despair.

"Doesn't matter. You need to stop worrying about things that haven't even happened yet. You're pregnant, and that's all that matters. You're pregnant with my baby, and you will live through every moment." His smile never faltered as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, humming a sweeter tune this time and rubbing your tummy.

"I'm not ready," you cried, shaking your head profusely.

Andrew looked up with a smile, trailing his forefinger down the bridge of your nose.

"Doesn't matter."

You held onto Andrew's hands as he leaned forward and embraced you. Sighing deeply into your chest.

"I love our little family. Don't you?"

Thank you for the ask!<3

[ashbub]

believe ✦છ

arcane: sevika x gn!reader

contents: cursing [2.5k unedited] @parkersgarage this is heavily inspired by the oneshot they wrote! check out their works <3

IN WHICH: sevika makes you believe

❝ im living on overdrive, all the time ❞

Sevika just had a way of pissing you off. 

Perhaps it was her bluntness, her casually dry sarcasm seeping onto the ends of her coiled lips every time she spoke. The way her soft gray eyes would flicker when she managed to briefly get your attention away from your hunched-up tinkering over your cluttered desk.

 Maybe it was the way her choppy dark locks softly tickled the ends of her bronzed skin that you were ever so tempted to run across with the back of your thumb during the long nights she was away, lingering with the comforting yet faint scent of cheap booze and swirls of cigar smoke.

 Or, more recently, it was the way she was bleeding all over your damn carpet.

"Sevika, what the actual fuck?-" 

You seethed out with a hiss, your bottom lip slightly curled as she roughly dropped the prosthetic metal arm on the edge of your busted-up desk with a faint clatter. Your crinkled-up eyes gingerly running over the messy collection of tangled-up wires and bent-up bolts that scattered across the wooden surface. 

You lightly pushed up the end of your thinly wired glasses up the bridge of your furrowed nose, dryly inspecting the damage with a soft click of your tongue before turning towards her harrowing presence. Her scarred bottom lip trickled with faint remnants of smeared dried blood, scattered bruises trickling across the edge of her face- her Roman nose looked slightly crooked, most likely getting it bashed in, fresh cuts adorning her rough skin as she smoothly leaned into your work desk with a jagged sigh coating her words. 

It was a bit different from her usual bar brawl look though- not the same slightly caught up with light night gambling and the sweet taste of a new win lingering on the edge of her mouth. 

She looked tired. 

"Just needs a quick fix, dollface." Sevika’s voice was rough, the smooth words sliding off her tongue like a gravelly whisper, the edge of her usual self-assurance still present despite the blood splattered on her calloused skin and the damage to her arm that was dragged on the surface of your desk. "Figured you could patch this up."

You glanced at the mess of wires and metal plating surface- The arm looked like it had been through hell and tossed over the Piltover bridge for shits & giggles—scratches and dents marred it's sleek finish, and a few of the smaller components dangled precariously from frayed connections. 

"A quick fix?" you repeated with a soft laugh lingering on your curled lips. You softly adjusted your thinly coiled glasses with a quick shove up the bridge of your nose, your eyes slightly crinkled up. "If that's all you needed, you could have done that your damn self-" 

Your dingy apartment barely had enough space to fit the mess you called a workspace. The flickering fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting an erratic, sickly yellow glow across the room. Blueprints sprawled chaotically across the floor, pinned haphazardly to the walls, or forgotten in piles atop the desk. Tools, screws, and scraps of metal littered every surface, and the acrid tang of solder and oil clung to the stale air. The window was perpetually cracked open, letting in the faint hum of Zaun’s underbelly.

You turned over to look at her from your desk, a slight tug at your bottom lip.

Instead, you lightly snatched up the battered prosthetic arm, its weight heavier than it looked. Holding it up under the soft hue of the light above you, you gingerly turned it over in your hands, inspecting the sheer extent of the damage. 

Her chapped lips pulled into something just shy of a smile, though it wasn’t quite smug— "Didn’t think my favorite little mechanic would mind getting their hands dirty," she murmured out, her voice low, with a subtle warmth that danced on the edge of teasing. It wasn’t the words, though, that got under your skin. It was the way her storm-gray eyes seemed to latch onto you as her fingertips carefully tapped the surface of your wooden desk with a slight hum.

It was the kind of teasing you heard faint whispers between the streets of The Undercity- murmurs calling you Sevika's “Pretty Little Tinkerer”

"Sevika," you bit out finally, your voice tight as your smooth fingertips ran across the surface of the arm with a soft sigh, "this isn’t a ‘quick fix.’ Half the circuits are fried, the frame is bent beyond repair, and these joints? They’re done for." You half haphazardly tossed the arm back onto the desk with a resounding thud, its impact shaking a glass jar of screws precariously close to the edge. 

Her expression didn’t waver. The faint bruises on her jaw caught the flickering light, but her eyes stayed locked on yours, calm and unhurried as though she were absorbing every inch of your irritation. There was no cockiness, just a quiet watchfulness that made your pulse flicker unevenly. 

"Relax," she said finally, her voice steady but soft in a way that only stoked the fire under your skin. "I know you’ll fix it. You always do."

You clenched your jaw with a slight click of your tongue, forcing your focus back on the scattered mess of your desk, your oiled-up fingers gingerly flexing in frustration before reaching for the tools scattered across the surface. 

"You’re impossible," you muttered with a light hiss, letting the tension in your voice bleed into the room as you sorted through the mess. The soldering iron hissed faintly as it heated up, mirroring the simmering heat in your chest.

Behind you, Sevika stayed silent, her gaze still heavy on your back. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it was there—a quiet weight you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you tried to channel your irritation into fucking untangling the mess she’d handed you.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as you tore your gaze from her, turning sharply toward the battered prosthetic arm on your desk. The clatter of tools filled the space as you hastily grabbed what you needed. Your voice was lower now, rough while smoothly turning one of the busted-up bolts quietly.

 "What kind of trouble are you getting yourself into, Sevika? Every time you come back home to me, you come back, you come back hurt." 

You adjusted your leather pants as you crouched to retrieve a roll of bandages from the corner. The thick material creaked softly with the movement, the belt cinched snugly at your waist holding an assortment of small tools and stray bolts you had yet to organize. 

“It's nothing.”

“Nothing isn't gonna scrub out the blood dripping on my carpet.”

Sevika had a way of filling the cramped space with her presence, and not just because of her size. Her towering figure seemed to soak up the weak light, making her seem even more imposing against the backdrop of your cluttered home. She leaned heavily against the edge of your desk, her metal arm a battered mess, the prosthetic sparking faintly as it collided with a pile of wrenches. Her usual attitude seemed dimmed, but her faint small smile was still there that she reserved for you was still there, tugging at her curled lips even as fresh bruises marred her skin.

"I have been dealt worse." Sevika’s gaze shifted away, the tension in her jaw easing as she turned toward your cluttered desk. Her gray eyes moved over the chaotic sprawl of blueprints pinned haphazardly to the wall, their edges curling from neglect. Some were smeared with faint fingerprints of grease, the lines of your meticulous designs almost hidden beneath layers of ink corrections and frustrated scribbles.

Her attention dropped lower, taking in the rows of jars crammed along the edge of the desk—each filled with bolts, screws, and mismatched metal scraps. The faint clinking of loose pieces echoed as her metal arm brushed against one, sending a lid rolling off onto the floor. She didn’t flinch, her focus already wandering to the tools scattered across the workbench: screwdrivers, wrenches, and soldering irons, all marked with the stains of your labor.

 "The whole situation has been growing dire, our attempts to control everything that has been brewing have been leading to chaos." 

Your wired glasses slipped down your nose as you stood, and you shoved them back into place with a grease-stained hand, leaving a faint smudge. 

"It doesn't have to be." You finally spoke.

 "What?" 

“I could be up there, with you, Sevika—helping you.” You set your wrench down with a decisive clink, the sound sharp against the quiet hum of the room. Rising slightly from your chair, you pressed your palms flat against the surface of your desk, leaning forward as your tools and bolts rattled from the sudden motion. Your gaze softened, warm but resolute, as it locked onto hers.

“I know I’m not much of a fighter like you,” you continued with a slight rustle into your locks of hair for a moment, your voice steady despite the faint quaver of emotion before looking back at her with a soft laugh, “But if I could put together a few bolts—really show those topsiders—”

The words hung in the air as you held her gaze. The faint glow of the desk light highlighted the sheen of oil on the palm of your smooth hands and the subtle tension in your posture. 

Sevika’s eyes flicked down briefly to your hands, pressed firmly against the scarred wood of the desk, then back up to your face. Her expression shifted, just slightly—the smallest crease at her dark brow, a flicker of something unspoken behind her stormy gray eyes. She took a breath, her broad shoulders rising and falling, but she said nothing yet, her silence heavy in the space between you.

"And what? So you could get hurt? Get involved in the crossfire of all this shit?" Sevika’s voice cut through with a sharp laugh, though the subtle tremor in her tone betrayed something deeper. Her hand shifted to rest on the desk beside yours, her thick fingers brushing past scattered bolts and oil-stained papers as if grounding herself against the weight of her words. Her gaze bore into you, stormy gray with a soft flicker.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound raw and uneven as it slipped past your lips. "And what do you want then?" You pushed back from the desk, standing now, your movements sharp while waving your curled-up fingers through the air with a slight sigh. "For me to sit pretty down here and tinker away while others die? While there’s a big fat fucking chance you could die-?"

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you turned away sharply to look at her, your soft hands gripping the edge of the desk until your knuckles stiffened. Tools roughly clattered from the sudden movement, and a lone wrench tumbled to the floor with a dull thud, but you didn’t flinch

She could die.

 Before you could stop yourself, your hand rose, trembling slightly.

Your fingertips brushed the edge of a fresh bruise on her cheek, her soothing skin warm beneath your lingering touch. The rough scrape felt raw underneath your soft graze, gingerly tracing the faded scars that still trickled across her face. Slowly, the back of your thumb quietly traced over the darkened patch of skin with a soft breath. Her face, always so sharp and proud, softened under your hand for a moment. The scar running down her cheek caught the faint yellow glow of the overhead light, stark against her bronzed complexion.

Her breath hitched, the tiniest intake of air, as her chin tilted slightly toward the warmth of your palm. For a fleeting second, her usual stoic mask faltered, replaced by a slight softness. Her long lashes, thick and dark, fluttered as she hesitated, her gray eyes flickering towards yours.

"I couldn't-" You whispered quietly, "I-I don’t know what I would do without you."

Sevika's jaw tightened, her plump lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, she smoothly leaned into your quiet hand, the weight of her head pressing gently against your palm. Her fresh scars and cuts faintly press into the soothing touch of your warm fingertips.

Then, without a word, she turned her face slightly, and her pursed lips brushed softly against your palm for a brief moment. The kiss was warm and deliberate. Her chapped lips smoothly grazed your touch. Her crinkled-up eyes fluttering shut as her lips lingered across your soft skin, and you could feel her light breath ghosting over your fingertips, steady and grounding into your warmth.

 "I won't, [y/n]. Y'know that." 

"Do I?" you softly asked, your strained voice barely above a whisper, "What if you never come back to me one day, Sevy?"

Your darkened eyes traced her face quietly, lingering on every bruise and faded scar that was carved into her bronze skin. The fresh purpling on her cheekbone, the faded remnants of old battles across her jaw— The space between you warmly lingered with a faint breath.

Sevika’s dark brows furrowed, her expression hardening- Slowly, she reached out, her large, calloused hand enveloping yours. Her grip was firm, almost desperate, as her thick fingers curled tightly around yours, holding on as if you might slip away.

"Hell could try to drag me down into its fucking depths," she whispered into your fingertips as the warmth kissed your flushed skin, her soothing voice low but steady, "but nothing in Zaun—nothing—would keep me from coming back to you."

Her smooth thumb brushed against the back of your quivering hand, the roughness of her touch grounding you even as her words made your chest tighten. She quietly leaned closer to the edge of your fingers, her head dipping slightly, enough to have her choppy locks tickle your face. You could feel the heat of her skin, the tension in her clenched jaw, her gray eyes slightly flickering. 

"You have to believe that," she finally murmured, her grip on your hand firm.

"I—" The word faltered on your lips, and you looked down at your joined hands, her grip warm, grounding you in a way that both comforted and overwhelmed.

“Sevika-”

"Do you believe that [y/n]?" Sevika’s voice softened just enough to make the question linger in the space between you.

You took a shaky breath, forcing a small smile to your lips before pressing the edge of your mouth to the edge of her fingertips quietly.

 "I’ll try," you murmured quietly, your voice steadier this time.

Sevika let out a low chuckle at the remark, her warm thumb brushing over the back of your hand one last time in a smooth circle before releasing you. "Now, let’s get me cleaned up, huh? I’m pretty sure I look like shit."

"You definitely do," you quipped with a warm hum, already reaching for a clean rag that was tucked away in the wooden drawers of your desk. She raised an eyebrow at your quick response, but the ghost of a smile tugged at her chapped lips.

a/n: i just needed to write a bit for arcane holy moly- let me know if you guys wanna see more arcane stuff? i was thinking of writing for more characters so let me know in my inbox if you have a suggestion, im on a kick right now lol :')

[bumpkinbayouthief]

🂱 › NSFW alphabet : Remy LeBeau .

warnings : nsfw / 18+ a/n : tried my best to keep it as gn!reader as possible so everyone can enjoy, i had so much fun writing this ngl, hope you enjoy!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Remy is pretty good when it comes to aftercare. if he was the one toping then he is attentive, makes sure to clean you up, kiss the marks he left on your skin, get you water and a snack, and of course, endless amounts of cuddles

now if he was the bottom during your session of fun then he prefers to be the one being attended to though he will naturally want to check on you and make sure you are taken care of too

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

ass and thighs, Remy is absolutely an ass man and your thighs, oh he loves to be buried in them and hold onto them as he is going down on you

on himself, he doesn't have a favorite, but he does like the way you love his eyes. he spent most of his life either hating them and eventually becoming indifferent, but you adore them and because of it he finds himself liking how they look in the mirror

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

he loves to be messy and cover you with his cum like the little shit he is, unless you aren't into that then he keeps to just releasing inside of you

his favorite thing is to taste yours, bringing his covered fingers to his mouth and sucking it off while he stares at you with those red eyes of his

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

he doesn't really have any dirty secrets, after all he tells you every filthy thought he has

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

Remy is an experienced lover, he's tried a variety of things and had plenty of partners so its easy to say that he knows what he is doing in the bedroom department

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

he likes to see your face while he is driving into you, so anything from missionary to have you riding him. the little noises and faces you make drive him wild

but he also loves a good doggy style session where he can slap your ass and watch you grip the sheets while he thrusts into you

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

he definitely leans toward the goofy side, after all, if you can't laugh while completely sunk into your lover then you aren't doing it right is his mindset

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

Remy keeps himself clean shaven down there, his light brown happy trail leading down his stomach

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

whether it is a quick and fast session or a gentle night long ordeal, he can be quite intimate during the act

he loves the foreplay part, taking his sweet time getting you ready from lighting the room in warm candlelight glow to kissing every square inch of you as he pulls of your clothes and tosses them onto the floor

even during the act, he is constantly making sure you are not uncomfortable and enjoying yourself

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Remy is no stranger to jacking off, especially when he's got you around constantly turning him on

he has definitely had moments where he has had to sneak away to the bathroom to rub one out after seeing you pass by in something as simple as a tshirt and denim shorts

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

he can be quite a kinky guy, never one to say no to trying anything at least once

he likes bondage, being tied up and at your mercy excites him, not to mention having it the other way around if your comfortable with it.

another is you wearing his clothes, he often has thought about fucking you while you wear nothing but his trench coat

on top of that he definitely has an exhibitionism kink, loving the thrill of doing it somewhere someone could easily walk in on you two if they wanted

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

tying into his exhibitionism tendencies, he is down to do it anywhere, from his car in an empty parking lot to a random closet in the mansion, he will do it anywhere with you

his favorite place though is probably the comfort of your room or even your tub/shower where he can ravish you for hours without any interruptions

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

you, quite literally just you. you turn him on pretty easily and in a moments notice he is ready to go

narrowed down its probably your kisses that get him started, especially when you kiss his earlobe and whisper in his ear filthy words or place a teasing peck to the side of his neck

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

he doesn't have many no's but one is knife or blood play, he just can't stand the thought of hurting you the same also goes with breath play, he isn't a fan of it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

he prefers to give but isn't opposed to receiving

he goes down on you like it is his favorite and last meal, gripping onto your thighs as you pull his hair each time he quickens his pace. he'll bring you to an orgasm and raise his head with the biggest devilish grin, absolutely covered in you

when he's receiving he loves to watch you do your thing, his hand resting on the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair, bucking his hips every so often

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

his pace entirely depends on the situation, he can be fast and rough when he wants to be but typically he likes to take in slow and sensual, taking his sweet time and dragging it out as long as he can, going for a new record each time

when he's on a time crunch he has no qualms about bending you over the closest surface and pounding into you, hands gripping onto your hips

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

Remy loves a good quickie, down to pull you into nearby closet when you both have gotten handsy with each other.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

he is more than willing to try new things with you, making sure to always establish a safe word or system so that you both enjoy it

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

he's got pretty good stamina, comes with the training he keeps up. he can go multiple rounds, all of them lasting longer than the last as he fucks you throughout the day or night

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

he doesn't have many toys for himself other than a few cock rings he likes to slip on when he is jerking off

but he has plenty for you and is more than happy to use them on you whenever you ask, from vibrators to plugs, cuffs and rope, even a few blindfolds

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Remy is the biggest tease, loving to bring you so close to the edge and right as you are about to reach your sweet release he pulls away, leaving you a whining and crying mess

but oh, how he hates when you do it to him, though it's not like his dislike for his hard no's, but he will sure be a whiny brat the second you start to tease him

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

oh he is loud. he makes all sorts of sounds during sex, from loud moans to whines that makes you melt with each one that leaves his pretty mouth

and his dirty talk in unbelievable with some cajun french so easily strung in there, his lips close to your ear

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

his go to safe word is pineapple and it made you giggle when he told you that the first time

he also loves when he kisses you after you’ve gone down on him and he can taste himself on your lips

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

he's a good size, not one to have a dick measuring contest or really pay attention to that sort of thing. he's just occupied with making sure you enjoy it

a good 6-7 inches with a nice girth that stretches you in the best way possible whenever he is inside and he knows how to use every inch

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Remy has a pretty decent sex drive, not super high he can show some restraint, but if you say jump, he will definitely ask how high.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

he'll always make sure you get taken care of and are settled before cuddling and after that he will fall asleep pretty easily, though he tries his best to stay up till you fall asleep

it doesn't always work out that way though

love, elizabeth

[ divider credit : @/strangergraphics | banner image from x-23 (2010) run ]

[thevirtualvalentine]

002. ONE PIECE, TRAFALGAR LAW.

content warnings: nsfw, med student!law, riding, perv!law, dick sucking, roles switch part way through, college au, maybe more.

plot: oh no! you’ve come down with the common cold and luffy suggest you visit his friend.. traffy? at the on-campus med clinic. seems simple enough till you’re fucking his brains out.

word count: 3.3k

It was just a simple cold, a quick trip in and out of the health clinic is all it would take. Get your decongestant, maybe a cough drop or two and lickity split you’d be better in no time. It’s not that you’re scared of the doctors office, just a bit wary of them whilst the process is long, arduous, and usually results in a headache. That’s why you thought the smaller on campus clinic would be quicker than scheduling an appointment, your friend Luffy said he knew the guy that worked there and added that he was, ‘grumpy but pretty practical.’ Went on a long tangent saying they’d known each other forever, yada yada, “go see him, he’d like you.”

It wasn’t a far walk from your dorm, plus it was a nice day out, the weather didn’t seem to make you feel any worse. When you walked into the small health center, you were shocked to see that no one else was there. The lights were dim in the main office and you would have sworn it was closed if a deep voice didn’t call out to you from another room, “Back here, what can I do for ya?”

You pull your jacket over yourself from the below sub temperatures when you make your way down the hallway. “Um… Traffy? Luffy said you’re studying pre-med. I just feel pretty congested is all..” You eye over the note Luffy had given you to double check the pronunciation, he knows you get pretty nervous at new places with people you don’t know. Annoyance shrouds his voice when he speaks again.

“Traffy? Of course that idiot told you to say that,” you can hear him sigh as you come up to the door. You shove the crumpled up piece of paper into your pocket simultaneously as you enter his office, shuffling awkwardly because he doesn’t look up from the paper work in his hand.

“Sorry bout that, what should I call you?” You can't see his face but he has short black hair that’s a bit messy, his hands show that he has vitiligo and tattoos? A bit built for a doctor, but the white lab coat makes him pop out amongst the pristine and dim space.

“La-” he finally looks up from his stack of miscellaneous books and papers but stutters over his words, “Traffy is fine.” He’s quick to clear his throat while giving a light awkward smile, all annoyance in his tone suddenly gone in thin air. You give a small wave as you pass your weight back and forth on the balls of your feet. The handsome man shakes his head in the act of doing a double take before he asks for your name. “Where are my manners, you are?”

“No no, it’s ok! y/n is fine,” your nerves cause you to mimic his verbiage as you stand planted in the middle of the room. He has these deep yellow eyes that stare you down while he asks you about your symptoms, asking when they first appeared and how long you’ve been feeling unwell.

He tsks which makes you gulp, worried that you’ve come down with a life threatening disease that seemingly has no cure. The snap of latex gloves against his tattooed hands snaps you out of your panic, “Well now, that just won’t do. No worries, doctor Law is here to help.” His low voice eases your nerves. As he stands up you realize how tall he is, and as his face comes into light you’re taken aback at just how handsome he really is. You’re almost annoyed at Luffy for hiding his hot friend from you, scruff that seems to suit him so well across his speckled features. Gold earrings with splotches of white hair scattered across his hairline. You’re praying your fever can explain why you feel so hot all of a sudden in such a cold room.

“Say ‘ahh’ for me.” His large hand rests underneath your chin, subtly tilting your head up to face him. Now you’re certain it’s not the fever that’s making you feel hot, it’s definitely him.

“Ahhh,” you stick your tongue out timidly, trying to avoid his almost predatory gaze while averting your eyes. All of a sudden his free hand enters your field of vision as two thick gloved fingers slide against your tongue, pushing the pads along the slimy surface. “Good,” he remarks monotonously, bright eyes never leaving your face.

Your mouth instinctively closes around his digits and you swear a light smile tugs at his lips before he retracts his fingers slowly. “Shit, sorry about that,” you say nervously, god you could jump off a bridge right now. How embarrassing, or so you think.

“Mhm, no gag reflex?” With his back turned to you he discards the gloves in a waste bin, ushering you to sit down on the examination table with a point of his finger.

You’re confused by his question, does he mean this in a medical sense or a practical one? The man is a doctor you suppose, it’s always best to be honest with your doctor, right? “Only when I’m brushing my teeth, why?” Those butterflies are back, causing you to swing your feet absentmindedly as you tell him the truth.

He returns to you with a stethoscope in hand as he places the ends in his ears. “Nothing, can you remove your jacket for me?” His demeanor makes your heart thump wildly in your chest, words that come out so smooth like he’s a practiced professional. You’re sure there’s something wrong with you because you’re getting turned on from a simple check up in the schools minute clinic.

You try to calm your heart as you take off your jacket, leaving you in a simple flimsy tank top. Hopefully he won’t be able to hear it’s [your heart’s] erratic beat. You curse yourself for not wearing a bra, you didn’t expect your ‘check up’ to go this way when you dressed yourself for the day, it was supposed to be a quick trip.

The cold air chills your nipples, making them visible through the thin fabric as they pebble up. Another pang of embarrassment stabs at your pride when he leans down to press the diaphragm over your chest.“Am I making you nervous?” It’s in the way he doesn’t even look at you as he presses the cold material over your blazing skin. “Your heart is beating so fast.”

“No…” you do your best to lie, hopefully that can save you or else you’ll have to hide in your dorm for the rest of your days while Luffy harasses you over embarrassing yourself in front of his friend.

“Your body doesn’t lie sweetness,” you can feel his stare drilling holes into your forehead now. “Ah, there it goes again.” You think you’re going to melt on top of his exam table if he doesn’t stop revealing things you don’t want to tell him. Your grip on the doctor roll makes it crackle beneath your hands as you try to calm down before you speak.

“What kind of examination is this anyway, I told you I’m just congested.” Defensiveness consumes you as you lean away from his touch, brain too rattled by his other worldly looks and words. You cross your arms and snub your head to the side, unbeknownst to you but most definitely to his own enjoyment it pushes your breasts together. You sigh, feeling bad for raising your voice at him. Maybe a bit of honesty will lessen the tension between you both.

“Look, I’m sorry for yelling, it’s just you’re really attractive and it’s making me nervous.” You drop your guard as you look up at him earnestly, apologizing isn’t always your strong suit.

He could be wrong, but he feels you want him in the way he wants you too. Luffy was right, his friend was hot. He’d heard about you in fleeting conversations, but was always curious to know what you looked like. There was just no way any normal person would want to be around that guy for more than a few minutes at a time. He could kill that guy for hiding such a beauty from him.

“I can help with that.” He turns his back to you once again, setting down his stethoscope. You’re gagged from the fact he blatantly ignored your confession. Your eyes that had drifted to the side now meet his as you stare at him wide eyed in disbelief. He leans over you, slotting his knee between your legs while his hands rest on either side of your head. You blink at him a few times dumbfounded because a few seconds ago you were sitting up but now lay flat on your back as he cages you in. Desire swirls deep in your stomach as you clench your fists.

He doesn’t make any sort of move on you till he has your consent. Sure he’s definitely already used some of his medical practice to his advantage, but he’s not here to hurt you. He won’t do anything to you unless he's sure you feel the same way.

You’re so turned on by it all that your legs squeeze together, interrupted by the knee slotted between them. “Please?” It comes out as more of a whine than anything while you place your hands on his shoulders, dragging him down to kiss you. It's sloppy and rushed at best, filled with mutual hunger as your tongues collide. His knee slides further and further upwards till it makes contact with your cunt that’s slowly becoming needier for more of his touch.

The swap of saliva is anything but sanitary and you almost feel bad for the fact you’ll get him sick after this. When he pulls away a string of spit connects you both, glimmering under the dimmed fluorescent lights, “here, lemme get that.” Traffy, or rather Law, swipes the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip trying to clean up the mess he’s made, a shame, you like it dirty. You catch the digit with your tongue before sucking it into your mouth, working your warm muscle all over whatever’s available to you. His eyes darken a shade as they gloss over when you release his finger with a loud pop sound.

“Is this still part of the ‘check up’” you tease, a coy smile tugs at your lips as you try to rock your hips against his knee. “Cause if so, I think I’m a little sick Doc.” He likes this flirtier side of you, what happened to the girl who walked into his office 30 minutes ago that couldn’t look him in the eye? Who knew such a shitty job with inadequate pay could be so fun.

Law lets his speckled hands run along your sides, groping whatever free skin he can. “Yeah? Think the only cure’s suckin me off. It’s terminal. Better work fast, doctor's orders.” His words send shivers of excitement coasting through you like waves. You’re entranced by that smirk of his, what other kinds of faces can a stoic man like him make?

You sit up to undo his belt hastily while he pulls your tank top off from over your head. It’s a flurry of items being removed till you’re sinking to your knees in front of him. Every part of him is beautiful, dark hair that stands out against lighter skin on his abdomen, additional tattoos that trail down his body that aren’t just on his hands. You could eat him alive and not spare a single bite, he’s tantalizing.

Those same bright eyes watch you now as you admire him, drinking you in. After you’ve finished checking him out you place your hands on his thighs, kissing the tip of his cock which makes him tense beneath your hands. “What, are you nervous, doctor?” He hisses in response, twitching tentatively right before your eyes. You lick from the underside of his base to the tip, running your tongue along his veins.

Law’s more of a pervert in theory rather than in practice, watching you eagerly suck him off like candy brings down all his resolve. His cock slipping in and out of your lips makes his toes curl. He’s trying to suppress whimpers by biting down on the back of his hand. Heat rises to his face as he melts like putty with each jerk of your wrist. “You’re so cute like this Traffy, feel so big in my hands.” He groans at your praise, eyebrows knitting together while sweat builds at his hairline. Those med school types are always such sluts for praise, you should have known.

You slide your tongue along his sensitive slit while your hand twists around his base. “Such a pretty boy, you’d let anyone who walks in suck your dick like this huh?” The role reversal makes him delirious, he’s whining for you like his life depends on it.

“N-no. Just you, swear.” His voice is trembling as he struggles to look you in the eye. He doesn’t want to cum yet but if you keep talking to him like he’s some kind of slut he just might. He can’t remember the last time someone’s sucked him off like this, treating his dick like a prized commodity, it’s too much for him.

You take all of him in your throat while breathing through your nose, grasping at his bare thighs with your well manicured nails. He’s so thick it surprisingly makes you gag around him, tears well up in your vision but you push through, bobbing your head along his length. Spit dribbles down your chin and he’s convinced you’re trying to suck him dry. “Fuck please, do-don’t stop,” he’s never felt this out of control in his life and for once it feels nice to let go. He cums down your throat with no verbal warnings but his body said everything, orgasm ripping through him with a guttural moan.

But you don’t stop, continuing to suck him through his climax till he’s doubled over whining. “You even taste good,” you say while licking the corners of your mouth and then your fingers, letting your tongue slide between the webs of your hands. It makes his jaw drop and he can’t even say anything, his dick gets hard all over again from feeling so desired. Seems he’s found a new favorite patient.

Law can’t just leave you like this, not after you swallowed his load like you’d done it a million times before. He drags your kneeling form up to sit in his lap, letting you settle on him. He finds the placement of your hands on his chest endearing, your fingertips trail his inked skin and it feels intimate for someone who just caused him to break plenty of OSHA laws upon their first meeting. “I want you to use me, show me how to make you feel good,” the tip of his nose grazes your cheek as he speaks low in your ear.

Oh god, he doesn’t even know. It’s like he’s just opened Pandora’s box without a care in the world, and worst of all he personally asked for it. You can only smile sweetly, “this time let me hear you.” He nods like a dog just given orders, resting back against his palms as he waits for instructions. Your hands continue to feel him up, raking your nails across his pecks or squeezing at his biceps while you praise his figure. Law continuously gets harder beneath you, not even he was aware of this newfound kink for praise. Precum leaks from his tip in globs, please for the love of god just fuck him already.

You take him with no prep, usually you’d make sure to stretch yourself but with how wet he’s made you it’s honestly unnecessary. “Aah— fuck wait wait. You’re so tight.” He tries bracing himself when you sheath him, hands come flying to your hips as he grips you in place. “Can’t.. you feel s’good,” he’s breathing heavily trying to ground himself. Maybe he’s bitten off more than he can chew.

“But you’re taking me so well baby, your cock’s perfect.” And again he moans, it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard, he tries biting his bottom lip to silence himself but you roll your hips forwards. “I said, let me hear you.” You wrap your arms around his neck as you push yourself up by your thighs to drop back down again. Continuing the motion while he struggles to keep up beneath you. Law attempts to keep his eyes open but with his previous orgasm it’s borderline impossible, the rhythmic slam of your hips on his dick sends his mind somewhere hazy.

He’s too cute, falling apart like this. Zero composure left to his name as you bounce up and down. The veins on his cock rub so deliciously within your heat, every time they throb you’re sent into ecstasy. The table creaks and gives as you ride him, if anyone walked in right now they could hear it or him whimpering helplessly.

You lean forward trying to position yourself so your clit grazes his pelvis with each grind of your hips. “Touch me Traffy, anywhere please just touch me.” Your close, so close that you can feel the pressure building in your cunt. His mouth latches onto your nipple, kneading the soft flesh with practiced hands. The added sensation sends your head rolling back, tapered pants of how good he is at this and how you don’t want him to stop escape you.

The view is impeccable, delicate tits in his face while your slick pussy engulfs him. He watches the way your mouth moves when you say his name and saves the memory for later use when he’s all alone. It almost feels like a movie to him, but he knows a film couldn’t be as good as this. Even that stupid nickname he’s gotten over the years sounds so sultry coming from you right now.

Your hand comes down from his shoulder to push him off you and he’s startled, figuring he must have done something wrong, but then you’re touching yourself as you fuck him and he’s trying to keep the floodgates from pouring over. You twist and tug at your own breast before trailing it down your body, trying to relieve that desperate ache that’s built up throughout your trip to his clinic. His eyes are blown wide, pupils dilated as he watches your fingers drag through your folds and then your puffy clit. “Said you wanted to watch me, so watch pervert.”

Oh fuckkkk. His hips jerk, biting his own lip hard enough to draw blood as he coats your insides white. He can’t do anything but whimper and shake noisily, gravelly voice failing him because of how hard this second orgasm rips through him. “Yes yes yes! Fuck, you’re so hot.” You must be trying to kill him, he can’t take anymore of your praise or he’s going to have to come back for more.

“Such a slutty face, gonna make me cum all over this dick.” Your fingers work faster and faster over your nub bringing you closer to that euphoria. It’s licking your insides like wildfire and it truly feels like it might be the cure to any disease. Finally it crashes over you, the back of your thighs slap against his for the final time as you cream all around him. Hands shooting for his hair as you grind out the remainder of your high.

It felt so dirty to be used as a cock to fuck but dear god did it look so good. Your heavy breath hitting him in warm fans as your body calms down. “So..” you huff while laying down on top of him, “think I’m cured?”

“No, I think you’ll have to visit for regular check ups.” Those same hands that you first noticed when you walked in rub circles on the dimples of your lower back, another cheeky smirk from the med student following suit.

[peargreen-jellybean]

too fuckin long, so sorry about that, but enjoy a 3k word count poolverine hurt/comfort ficlet from the prompt idea i posted

my writing skills suck a bit and i wrote this on my phone but i did my best. enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan’s woken up in alleyways, face down, with clothes torn from a brawl he instigated and the glass bottles he’d fallen onto. Sometimes, if he’s lucky, he wakes up slumped over a table in the back of a bar because the owner was too afraid to tell him to leave.

Afraid of his claws or just his name.

The buzz of alcohol never stays long, even with high proof liquor, but the tiredness of a fucked up life still lingers for awhile more after several bottles of booze.

So waking up exhausted isn’t new. It's about the only way he’s woken up for a long time.

And that’s what Logan expects, slowly coming back to consciousness.

Exhaustion. Some hard surface. Hopefully most of his clothes intact.

One eye begrudgingly cracks open.

Yup, definitely a little fucked up. His joints ache deep into the bone and his head is cotton-y.

But… Nothing feels hard or sharp beneath him. In fact, he feels… comfortable.

Huh.

Turning just a bit, he finds his face buried in softness. It smells lived in; skin, spilled food, a hint of�� gunpowder? And, after a moment, he hears the soft sound of music- too quiet to be bar music but not muffled enough to be from a building he isn’t inside of.

Huh.

“Mmm.” Using his forearms, Logan props himself up just enough to leave the softness and get a look around him.

Not an alley. Not a bar. Not even a cheap, seedy motel.

A house- er, an apartment more likely. And he’s sprawled, a moment ago face down, on top of an old couch with a blanket over him and pillow under him. Neither the couch nor the general space is all that large, he’s practically spilling off the furniture, but everything feels warm and lived in. Home-y, if a little messy.

There isn’t anyone else here- the living room, a good guess- but noises, once he registers them, coming from an adjacent room says he isn’t alone. The soft music seems to filter through from there as well.

Logan flips himself over, a bit too groggy to be elegant about it, and rubs the sleep from his eyes. The feel of gritty grime on his face, more than he usually gets after a night drowning in alcohol, confuses him.

And then-

His head slumps back into the pillow and he groans. “Fucking hell.”

The TVA. The Time Ripper. The Void.

The red spandex-ed asshole who stole him from his timeline.

… Who, after everything, took him home, here, introduced him to his blind roommate- Althea, if he recalls- and offered him a place to stay and sleep for a while. And, vaguely remembering being too tired to shower, who also gave Logan some clothes to sleep in.

Groaning, only half heartedly after remembering the comforts offered and taken, Logan pulls back the blanket and, likey for the first time, actually checks to see what he’s wearing.

A gray, “I eat cement” T-shirt and blue, rubber duck shorts.

Yeah, that seems about right.

He huffs, but sits up to get his elbows onto his knees and scrub more of the sleep away from his face. Instant regret again. Both he and Wade- battle worn and disgusting- had forgone a shower in favor of just near instantly passing out. He is fucking gross; dirt, blood, and god knows what else covering him in a disgusting layer.

Logan feels a pang of shame for getting onto their couch with this much dirt and sweat coating him- maybe he can wash the blanket and pillowcase as an apology- but a clattering from the room with the music recatches his attention. The volume of whatever song is playing- a woman singing, pleasantly raspy- increases afterward.

Too interested to ignore whatever’s going on, Logan gets up to stand- with only a small groan, thank you- and, after a quick, satisfying stretch, slowly pads over to the doorway. Nothing outright sounds or feels dangerous, but from his experience and especially after the past few days, the need for caution can’t be shaken.

He must still not be fully awake, because the smell hits him only a few creeping steps from the doorway; pepper, eggs, something a bit burnt.

Food.

God, he didn’t realize how hungry he was until now. Even the burning smell is appetizing.

Popping his head in, the sight inside startles him awake completely.

With “I <3 hot dads” shorts, a red apron, and fucking crocs on his feet, Wade shifts around in front of the kitchen counter, swaying to the song he has playing from a radio somewhere. The place is a complete mess of egg shells and plates, but the table has a, rather large, plate of scrambled eggs, another plate of half burnt toast, and an assortment of other breakfast items. The smell of coffee also hangs in the air. And for the first time, maybe since knowing the man- and when he wasn’t unconscious- Wade is happily content not saying a word. He simply turns a toaster, with a fucking butter knife stuck into it, this way and that, and shakes it like he wants information from it.

It’s jarringly warm, and domestic.

Logan is again thrown for a moment.

When was the last time he woke up to clean clothes- even though he himself is gross as hell- the softness of a pillow, to the smell and sight of another person cooking breakfast in a kitchen?

Ever?

That sounds pathetically sad and incorrect, but in the doorway, watching it happen in real time, Logan feels lost and a bit raw.

Lucky for him though, Wade is still an annoying fuck and pulls him from his thoughts.

Like he sensed the presence of the other man half lingering in the doorway, Wade looks back at him and smiles wide. All bright teeth. No mask.

“Well, good morning Peanut! Did ya sleep well? I don't know about you but I think being torn apart and put back together finally got rid of the knot in my back. God, I slept like Al after she goes through waaay too many little baggies.” He motions over to the table with his chin. “I made some eggs and toast if you want. A true triumphant heroes’ breakfast! Hopefully you like them both a bit overdone. And there’s a pot of coffee over there.” He gestures to a machine on the counter now. “You can literally just drink from the pot if you want. Caffeine does not work on me, funnily enough. We don’t have creamer but there’s milk in the fridge and sugar next to the coffee maker…”

Wade goes on to babble about everything and nothing and, while Logan cannot count the number of times he’s wanted to stab the man for not shutting up, he can’t find the want to be actually irritated.

Not in the face of food, and coffee, and just… comfort.

Speaking of…

Logan clears the lump in his throat. “Thanks.” It’s all he can think to say, but he means it, even with the rough rumble of his morning voice.

Which Wade seems to find fascinating.

“Holy shit! How the fuck does your voice get even deeper? God, you would make a killing as a erotic audio book reader. Millions probably.” Wade flashes a flirtatious look before he turns back to the toaster and continues to mumble to himself, or perhaps the broken machine.

Logan huffs, but the call of coffee is stronger than his need for a comeback. The whole pot is grabbed per the offer, the sugar too, and now standing in front of the table he finds himself hesitating. No spots are occupied and nothing says ‘preferred seat’, but Logan can’t help but pause. ‘Make yourself at home’ feels like the unsaid, unfamiliar offer he can’t accept as easily as the coffee.

It feels too easy- another pathetic thought- and he can’t help but feel like he isn’t awake yet, and the reality of a cold, pavement bed will greet him if he gets too comfortable…

“Stupid fucking piece of metal crap!” Wade hisses, followed by the sound of the knife stabbing into the toaster.

Nope, probably not a dream. Logan is not a creative enough person to come up with something like this.

God, so just… sit, you fucking moron.

Picking a chair facing away from the toaster killer, Logan sets the coffee pot down- on a mat he also picked up, he isn’t an asshole- and settles in.

He feels awkward, like a kid at his first sleepover, but the eggs are there in front of him and his stomach is starting to growl. Awkwardness can wait until after a few bites, at least. There’s a lack of something important on the table though. After a quick glance around the plates and cups, and not finding anything, he looks over to Wade who seems to be completely brawling with the toaster now.

Wincing at the sight, and before he can rethink his decision, Logan clears the remaining sleep from his throat and uses that to draw the other man’s attention.

“Do uh, do you got a fork or somethin’?”

“Ah fuck, that’s what I forgot!” Wade sets, or slams really, the toaster down and moves over to a drawer, then rooting through it. “Didn’t run the dishwasher either and all the good forks are in it. Fuck…” He mumbles something else too, but lets out a triumphant ‘ha!’ when he pulls out two forks, one a little more bent than the other.

He skips, almost, over to Logan and presents the utensils. “Here you go Peanut, pick your favorite!”

Grabbing the more bent fork, Logan nods a silent thanks and begins slowly transferring eggs from the larger plate to one of the smaller, empty ones. Wade, satisfied with the choice, simply sets the other fork onto the table and goes back to the counter, and that damn toaster.

But before brawling again, he calls back, “Help yourself to as much as you want Babygirl! You deserve it for all your sexy hero work!”

Logan huffs again but grabs one of the toaster’s victims, once he’s gotten a fair amount of egg, and takes a bite of the slightly over cooked toast and just… enjoys.

The moment is pretty… nice.

Warm food. Morning sun from the window- god, he doesn’t even know that time it is. Wade isn’t quiet, hardly ever is, but he’s not overly inane or loud right now.

It’s all… good.

So… What does it?

An old memory, like deja vu, from another place and time with other people? The still lingering, ghostly sensation of his own body shredding and healing, just below his skin? Wade grumbling at the counter over the broken toaster, like a strange picture of domestic living?

It could be anything, everything.

But all he knows is that it’s twisting into something else. Something darker, and sharper, and cold.

Logan starts to tremble in his seat and the fork in his hand damn near snaps in his grip. The bite of food in his mouth tastes like blood- no, it is blood. He’s bitten into his tongue. His heart is racing, and something is tight in his chest, too tight and still tightening. Crushing.

Air isn’t breathable. His lungs won’t let it in.

Whatever stupid song is playing now is muffled by a white hot pulsing between his ears.

… He knows this.

Panic.

This is panic.

Of all the times to break, after days of one problem after another, pain after pain, this is when it happens? Now? While he’s sitting in Wade fucking Wilson’s kitchen, wearing his worn-soft clothes and eating at his table and listening to some soft song on the radio?

Yes, it is.

Pathetic.

Fucking pathetic.

He can’t focus anywhere anymore- it’s too much, too overwhelming, too fucking stupid to reason with- and burning nausea is creeping up his throat.

He’s spiraling. He’s breaking. And he can’t find the fight to beat himself out of it.

Perhaps that’s the reason he doesn’t hear the increasingly desperate ‘Logan?’s behind him or the quick footsteps moving towards the table.

He does startle, however, at a sudden touch to the side of his skull, making him gasp.

His claws gouge the surface of the table and knock over a half-filled water cup but, remarkably, they don’t thrust into the sudden presence pressing to his side.

It takes a good minute to process the situation, much slower than it usually takes him. But he feels the warmth of another person and the pressure of a hand on his head and his head is bent at an odd angle-

Wade, his mind breathes. This is his scent- gunpowder, spandex, and his own strange, unique smell. The touch to the back of his skull is his hand and the press to his cheek is the exposed skin below his shirt.

He’s cuddling him.

Uh-

And because it’s what he does best, Logan rages.

“The fuck are you doing?!” Logan snaps, and he yanks his head back from the other man’s grasp. Or, at least, he tries to.

“Eeeasy Peanut,” Wade hushes, not relinquishing Logan’s head. It's easy to forget the teasing, ridiculous man is incredibly strong. The battle lasts all of two seconds, and Wade’s stubbornness takes the victory. Logan’s cheek presses back to his hip and stays there under the weight of his hand.

“Easy, easy, easy…” Wade mumbles. He hesitates, only for a moment. “Vanessa did this… when shit got really bad.”

He’s quiet. He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t have to. The meaning and weight of the softly spoken words are enough.

There’s a growl starting to rumble in his chest and while he wants to fight against Wade harder- he doesn’t need sentimental crap or, god forbid, pity- Logan takes a breath just long enough to pause here in the moment, and let’s himself feel.

Wade’s hand is cradling his skull and his fingers are threaded through his hair. The weight of them is firm, but not crushing. No, they’re gentle. And they press his cheek and temple into Wade’s side, where the dip of his waist is. Even at the odd angle his neck is bent to, the shape of the dip fits to his face near perfectly and, if obliged to stay here, he would be comfortable. Wade’s body heat- much like his own, running high due to constant cellular regeneration- seeps into him. Into his skin, and then his flesh, and then his bones, settling deep into his chest.

All of it, it… helps.

The revelation startles Logan.

The weight and solidness of Wade is grounding; constant, steady pressure. His warmth slowly relaxes the painful tightness behind Logan’s ribs. Even his smell- showered now, likely before he started cooking, still strange but not unbearable- settles his mind just because it’s there.

Wade… is anchoring him.

Maybe he really should fight this harder, or be annoyed at the coddling, or pissed just because he’s being handled at all, but Logan can’t keep a grip on any of the feelings. He can’t stop the calm that pulls him in and brings him down. It’s so- He’s feels so-

…

… When was the last time he was held?

Not fucked by nameless faces, or hanging on to another person for dear life, or punch near through the stomach- Held.

Was it before- God does it hurt.

… Was it before, when he had his fellow mutant friends and family? Before that?

After?… Definitely not.

Warmth, gentleness, nothing of the kind was what he deserved afterwards. He could never reward himself with something he never showed, and no one offered it to him regardless.

Logan shudders, his breath likely teasing Wade’s skin but, if the other man feels it, he blissfully leaves the fact be.

Wade- warm, solid, annoying as hell Wade- who breaks his train of thought, unaware of it. “Better right? When Vanessa first did this, waaay back in the storyline, I fucking melted like a kid’s ice cream. It’s like the guilty, trauma victim’s morphine.” He pauses, and there’s a grin to his words now. “I also ate her out that first time, but we can wait to do that until the second mental breakdown session, Babygirl.”

Yup. There it is. Asshole.

But Logan just, non-committedly hums, although it's more of a grumble. Yeah, Wade will probably be insufferable after this, smug and a whole new level of too comfortable touching him, but right now, right here, he’s calming.

He’s- something Logan can’t quite name. Or at least, he’s unwilling to.

Call Logan weak, call him pathetic- because he truthfully is, just below the storm in his skin- and like hell does he actually deserve this, but he’s gonna savor it for as long as he possibly can.

Seconds pass, or maybe hours, and the gentle massage of Wade’s fingertips to his scalp continues during it before his hand slides away from Logan’s hair onto his shoulder.

The loss of that contact against his head is disappointing-a private thought- but when Wade shifts like he’s about to move away the disappointment quickly morphs into panic.

He isn’t ready to let go.

He isn’t ready for Wade to leave.

With pure, unthinking action, Logan latches onto the fabric of Wade’s shorts just below the hip he isn’t leaning against. He fists the material into a ball, like he’s afraid the other man will just disappear if he doesn’t hold tight enough.

Like he really is going to wake up, and be alone again with only the memory of coffee and warmth.

Embarrassment quickly reddens his face once he understands what he’s done but, instead of releasing Wade, Logan turns his face into his hip to hide. Clenching his eyes shut for extra precaution.

Weak. Pathetic.

Wade is quiet, his hand hovering above Logan’s shoulder after it was started off but, just as Logan is about to relinquish his hold of the man- he can't bear the unnerving stillness of him- Wade surprises him again.

Quick but gentle, Wade cups the back of Logan’s head and neck, turns ever so slightly to the side, and presses Logan’s forehead to the cushion of his stomach. And just lets the other man stay against him, as he rubs his head and shoulders.

Logan cries a small sound he’s never heard himself make before- something wounded, and relieved, and ragged- but he can’t be bothered to care. Not right now. He releases his death hold on Wade’s shorts and wraps his arms around the other man’s thighs, as flush against him as he can be in their current positions. His hold might be too tight, edging on painful most likely, but Wade doesn’t complain. Doesn’t do anything except this… hold him.

Thank you, thank you, thank you…

“Of course, big guy. Whatever you need.”

Ah, he said that out loud.

… He’ll care about that later. Logan will be pissed, and embarrassed, and in denial at some point, but it’ll all be later. When Wade isn’t cradling him or murmuring soft words. When he isn’t cooking warm food or listening to music on the radio.

When he isn’t making him feel like, for the first time in a long time, he’s allowed to have kindness.

Fucking… Wade.

[wisteriadumster]

Warmth ❥Arthur Morgan

ARTHUR MORGAN X FEMALE READER

CW➻❥ I pulled an all nighter man like yall fuck that’s what’s up

WC➻❥1265➻❥ this isn't well proof read so any mistakes or odd things are purely accidental

Summary➻❥ you’ve just arrived to Colter and once the cabin is empty, Arthur has an idea on how to keep you two warm.

*✧･ﾟ:* WisteriaDumster original work.*:･ﾟ✧

You shivered into the abandoned cabin, doing your best to escape the frigid blizzard that tortured the old town. “How long you think we’re staying here for?” You adjusted your scarf, “I ain’t too sure but not long, couple days.” Arthur replied, you followed him as he entered the room Grimshaw had assigned for you both.

The bed was small, but you could cuddle up together to keep warm.

You hugged Arthur, wrapping your arms around his torso. He hesitantly accepted the hug and draped his arms over your waist, his hands gripping your body.

Your face was nuzzled into his shotgun coat, the texture rubbing against your cheek.

In the main room you could hear a conversation between Hosea and Dutch, “think you should go talk with them?” Arthur pulled you off him, looking at you, “I suppose you’re right ‘bout that.” He caressed your cheek and walked out of the room.

You had followed behind and were sitting with Molly. “How are you Miss O’Shea?” She closed her pocket mirror, “I’ve lived better ya know?” She adjusted her head scarf.

“Miss O’Shea,” Dutch stepped in, “would you like to come with me to check on everyone else?” His smile was sly, “I’d rather stay here, and be out of the storm,” she admitted, “I insist.”

The cabin had slowly emptied, Dutch had convinced Molly to leave with him, and Hosea was off to go check on different gang members.

You sat by the fireplace with Arthur, wishing the fire would engulf you with heat. “Darlin’ I have an idea on how we could keep some heat around,” you raised an eyebrow, “and what would that be?” He stood from the chair, he walked to your chair, towering over you as you looked up.

“We should have about ten minutes before anyone comes back,” he hinted. Your lips curled into a smirk as his idea, “quite risky don’t you think?” You stood up, “well I’ll be quick.”

His hands wrapped around your ass, suddenly lifting you up against his body.

You cupped his face, connecting your lips with his. One of his hands gripped and dug into your ass cheek, his legs stumbling, searching for a place to set you down. You pulled from the messy kiss, hot breath escaping your mouth. Arthur kicked down the chair you had been sat in just moments prior, he walked to the old table that laid against the wall.

He set you down, a hand holding your hips as you continued the heated kiss. His free hand was digging through the layers of clothing on your body, searching for an entrance.

“Darlin’ I hope you don’t mind,” he pulled back from the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours. You opened your mouth to question Arthur, a sudden rip of your underwear answered you. “I’ll sew it later,” you smirked and pulled him back into the kiss.

Arthur pushed his hand through his jacket, his gloved fingers pushing the button of his pants through the yoke. You uncupped his face, your hands pushed past his hand and undid the buttons of his union suit. His hard cock pushed out, waiting for what it had been desiring.

Arthur pushed your skirt and coat up your legs, his cold leather gloves made your warm skin shiver. “Arthur,” you looked at him, “take those gloves off please.” He obliged and pulled the gloves off, dropping them onto the small table beside the one you currently sat on.

Arthur’s calloused hands gripped your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the table.

Slowly he entered, you gasped as his cold dick hit against your warmth. You wanted to moan but you had no protection from the walls of the cabin, Arthur wrapped an arm around your back and pulled you in, thrusting slowly as his cock adjusted to the sudden temperature change. “Fuck” you shuddered against his lips as his hips rotated against yours. Your head rolled against your shoulders, falling against your back as Arthur quickened his pace.

“We surely ain’t got long Sweetheart,” he began kissing at your neck, “I don’t need long.” You managed through muffled moans, you bit your lip to contain yourself, your hands white-knuckled the edge of the table.

Arthur’s pace was consistent, hitting your walls just right. His lips vibrated groans against your neck, one of his hands released its grip against your thigh and tilted your head back towards his. His eyes fluttered with lust before he pulled you back in for unfinished kisses, his hands travelling into your hair, intertwining itself with the locs.

“Fuck Sweetheart,” Arthur groaned.

Your legs felt shaky, your body struggling to keep itself composed at Arthur’s increasing speed. The adrenaline from the chance of being caught made your heart race, as every thrust made you want to scream a moan, scream Arthur’s name.

A final thrust and his tip itched you exactly where it had to be to trigger your orgasim. You sprung up, throwing your chest against Arthurs, yours hands clawing at his back.

You moaned into his shoulder as your legs quivered, a wave of every emotion covered you as each muscle in your body tensed and released within seconds.

Your own orgasm vibrated against Arthur, a deep and raspy groan eluded from Arthurs chest. His body was heavy against your own. As the climax of your orgasm was ending, he continued thrusting through it, prolonging its inevitable end.

“Arthur,” you shake against him, coping through the pleasure you had felt and the pleasure you were still receiving. “I’m almost there Darlin’ just be a good girl and don’t move,” he mustered through a moan.

Within a few more intense thrusts and you doing your best to stay still and quiet, you felt and heard his own orgasim. A deep groan rumbled from his chest as he panted.

Two fingers lifted your chin up, his eyes twinkling with love, his lips slowly connecting with you for an intimate kiss.

The sound of a conversation began to enter your ears, “Arthur,” you pulled from the kiss. He looked at you and looked as your finger pointed towards the door, Arthur understood and helped you off the table.

You were quick to help him clean off and rebutton his clothes.

You pushed down on your skirt and went to your room, searching for your sewing box.

Arthur fixed the chair he had kicked down, he leaned in the doorframe of your room.

“Need help?” He cleared his throat as he watched you search through nightstand drawers, “how well can you sew?” You grabbed the small metal tin, “not as good as you Darlin’.”

“Arthur,” The door creaked open, Dutch brushed the fresh snow off his jacket, “we’re gonna go find Micah, you comin?” You made eye contact with Dutch, “Arthur you should go, I won’t freeze.” You smile, Arthur looked between you and Dutch before nodding at you and turning around.

He grabbed his gloves that laid on the table, he looked at you once more as he put them on, a small smirk sneaking through his lips for a moment. You smiled from his contagious look, your cheeks feeling flush as you thought of what had happened only moments before.

With a growing discussion the door slammed, leaving you alone.

You sat on the bed, turning your body away from the door as you hiked your skirt up. Examining the rough rip Arthur had left, you smiled at it.

You popped the top of the tin off and began setting up the needle and thread.

[actuallysaiyan]

She's Got Big Red Eyes and Big Red Lips(Renji Abarai x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, semi-public sex, oral sex(male receiving), throatpie, slight dub-con if you squint word count: 1k pairings: Renji Abarai x Fem!Reader summary: you lead Renji somewhere somewhat private and you ask for his hair tie so you can tie your hair up... a/n: Thanks to the wonderful Vero(@yeowangies) for always supporting my lewd thoughts about Renji and giving me inspiration to write these sexy ideas hehehe!

Renji doesn’t question it when you begin dragging him off towards a closed area. He happily goes along with whatever crazy plans you have. You bring so much joy to his life, so how could he say no to you? You’re such a sweetheart and he adores you more than anything in this life. So when you grabbed him by the hand and began to duck down alleyways and behind buildings, Renji knew better than to question it too much. You can be rambunctious at times, especially when it comes to surprising him. 

You’re behind a building, and you look around to check if anyone is here. Then with a wicked grin, you eagerly push Renji against the wall. He grunts softly but he soon is chuckling. You interrupt that with a sweet kiss. The longer you kiss him, the more deep it gets. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in so close. The kiss deepens even more when you press your body against his. You can feel just how aroused he is this way.

“Hey Renji…” You moan out as you pull away from the kiss to breathe.

“What is it?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

You grin mischievously, “Can I borrow your hair tie? I need it for a minute.”

Renji barely even considers it. Within seconds he’s letting his hair fall down, handing you the hair tie in question. He watches you put your hair up in a messy bun, smiling wider now that he can see even more of your beautiful face. He’s about to cup it again in his hands, but you’re too quick for him.

Within seconds, you’re on your knees and Renji’s eyes are bulging out of his head. His cheeks burn when he realizes exactly why you asked him for the hair tie. His cock begins to harden in his pants, and you take this opportunity to pull them down now. He shudders when he sees just how bold you’re being right now.

“W-we shouldn’t. I mean, what if…what if someone sees us?”

You don’t really think about that right now. You start by wrapping your fingers around his thick girth, stroking it slowly. You lean in to lap up the pearlescent fluid that comes from the tip of his dick. He moans softly, then he covers his mouth with his hand. You giggle softly before you dive down to begin kissing his balls.

“W-wait…” But his arguments are falling flat.

Still, this causes you to pull away completely. Renji's never seen such a vision of lewd beauty. You’re on your knees just for him, a bit of saliva coating your lips and you’re eyeballing him so hungrily. It’s like a predator watching its prey; and with the way you’re so eager to pleasure him, he knows he’s in for a treat.

“You don’t want me to suck you off then?” You ask, tilting your head to the side to imitate him.

“Well,” he grunts as he feels your warm breath on the wet tip of his cock. “It’s not that I don’t want you to, I just…” he looks away, his cheeks crimson red.

“That’s what I thought. You want this, but you’re worried someone is gonna see us, yeah? Don’t worry, baby. Nobody will find us.” You promise him, and with the look in his eyes, he knows you mean what you say. 

Before he can say anything else, you’re already wrapping your lips around him. He grunts and his hips buck involuntarily at the sensation. His knees buckle as you continue taking him into your mouth. It’s wet and warm and…fuck it feels amazing. His eyes roll back in his head as you begin to bob your head back and forth. He’s not sure if he’s going to be able to last long; whether it be because he finds you so damn sexy or because the chances of getting caught are kind of high, Renji will probably blow his load way too quick.

“Hnng fuck! Oh fuck, your mouth is so fucking hot…so wet.”

He’s barely hanging on, but then you go and look up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours. A shaky hand comes down to caress your cheek, and it struggles to stay steady when you begin to deepthroat him. Your tongue is basically lapping at his balls as his thick cock gets shoved down your throat. Renji lets out a pathetic little mewl, and a string of curses follow that.

“Shit, baby— I— fuck I can’t hold on!”

You love the way he sounds when he’s so desperate like this. His legs are shaking as he does what he can to hold on. His breathing is ragged as he pants just for you. He curses and swears, trying his best not to be too loud. Whenever he looks down at you, he swears he’s never seen a more lewd spot. 

When you finally reach up to begin massaging his balls, he’s done for. Both of his hands reach for the back of your head and he pushes you down until your nose is nestled in the patch of red pubes that adorns the base of his cock. You hold onto his thighs, steadying yourself as he begins to cum down your throat.

“Fuck yes! I’m fucking cumming!” He growls, throwing his head back in pleasure.

Ropes of thick cum coat your mouth and throat with each throb of his dick. He’s holding you down on his cock, thrusting his hips slowly as he rides out his high. Then he allows you to pull away, and he watches as you catch your breath. He’s always so impressed with the way he’s able to use your mouth and throat as his own little fucktoys. Your hands help tuck him back into his pants and Renji helps you to your feet.

“You better find a better place for us to be private,” he growls into your ear. “And I’ll need that hair tie back so I can return the favor.”

[brandogenius]

lucy x sick reader? like her coming home early from the studio to take care of you vibes

‼️RPF‼️

BLURB - lucy x sick reader

- lucy leaving early in the morning to go to the studio. you’re usually a morning person so it was a bit weird when she woke up but you still were asleep. she always makes sure to let you know when she’s leaving so while she was getting ready she let you sleep in for a bit longer. waking you up with a small tap on the shoulder to let you know she was going.

- she was a bit worried when you rolled over, your eyes glossy and bags dark under your eyes. beads of sweat coating your forehead. you kinda just staring up at her for a moment before nodding your head and turning back to go back to sleep.

- “are you doing alright, sweetheart? are you sick- do you need me to stay here” lucy was concerned, sitting on the edge of the bed, back of her hand against your forehead. you’re like “no i’m fine honey. i’ll be ok, you have fun at the studio”

- lucy knew there wasn’t any reason to push since you were quite stubborn, she just had to take your word. “call me if you need anything alright my love? i’ll be checking in” and she’s kissing your forehead and closing the door softly to not make loud noise.

- i can see lucy being very distracted during the day. checking her phone and waiting for any notifications from you to come in. she tries calling you a couple of hours later but you didn’t pick up so it got her pretty worried. she tried sending messages to you but they ended up not being read, your phone was probably turned off or on do not disturb.

- however it worries her even more considering both of you have each other as a contact that can bypass do not disturb so your calls and text messages can be heard even with dnd on. so it was worrying her why you aren’t picking up

- she voiced the concerns to phoebe who instantly telling bed to get the fuck out and make sure you’re ok. lucy not even having to be told twice, packing her stuff and dipping. getting in the car and zooming home.

- unlocking the door and calling out to you but you don’t reply. she’s worried with anxiety and fear. are you ok? you’re NEVER asleep for this long so it was worrying her.

- going upstairs to the bedroom to sigh in relief finding you asleep in the exact position she left you in. only thing lucy can see is the small poofs of hair sticking out as you bundle up in the blankets. lucy walking over to wake you up.

- “honey?” you’re rolling over like huh?? clearly out of it. lucy sighing to herself like “did you get up since i left?” and you shaking your head like no. so lucy’s like “alright alright, how about i make you some breakfast?“ you trying everything in your power to not fall back to sleep. headache raging, nose stuffy and blocked, eyes sore and stinging. it wasn’t a good day for you

- lucy making breakfast / lunch at this point, for you and bringing it up to your room. “why don’t you try eat as much as you can and have a quick shower. freshen up. i’ll give you some medicine and if you feel like going back to sleep you can. i’ll wake you up for dinner” lucy sitting at the bottom of the bed, patting your hand.

- you realising lucy came home from work and feeling really guilty about it. “i’m sorry you had to come home- i would’ve been able to take care of myself” but lucy is quick to deny and interrupt “you wouldn’t stayed asleep for the whole day if i hadn’t come home baby. i was worried. im just glad now you’re ok while i’m here. don’t worry about me.” but you’re stubborn and lucy is quick to shut you up by a small kiss on the lips

- “i can get you sick baby” “don’t worry about me, darling” she’s running her fingers through your messy hair and rubbing your back. “we take care of each other whilst we’re sick. lets just focus on getting you better now alright?”

[lonesome-witching]

I'll See You Around

Took me way too long to write this but I did. And at least I'm back with something. This is Robin as a vet and Nancy as a stranger who finds a cat, as prompted by anonymous. Hope you enjoy.

Do you have any prompts yourself? Or do you want to dive into what I wrote before? You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

“Oh, who are you?” Nancy knelt down next to the small animal. She hadn’t noticed the cat following her before. It had been hiding behind her legs.

There was no collar, no sign of the owners anywhere. Nancy wondered if it really was a pet. Maybe it was just a stray animal that had taken a liking to her. Either way she couldn’t just leave it behind. Not with the clouds gathering over her head and no other savior in sight. She’d drop it off at a shelter or a vet. That was the right thing to do.

“Come here, darling.” Nancy scooped the cat into her arms. The animal curled up close to Nancy’s chest as they walked further.

She was convinced there was a vet on her way home. If she was lucky, it would still be open. It was a simple grey building, in a simple grey street. Nothing special. Maybe Nancy would have never noticed it before if it wasn’t for the bright, yellow letters painted on the window. Those stood out amongst the other grey buildings in the otherwise grey street.

The lights were still on. But when Nancy pressed her body against the door it wouldn’t budge.

“Fuck,” Nancy sighed. The cat was purring softly even as the first raindrops fell down. She’d have to come up with something else.

She pushed her body against the locked door one last time, hoping for the impossible. But the door didn’t budge. She wanted to scream.

The door creaked open. “Hello? Everything alright?” A woman poked her head out. She was young, no older than Nancy herself. Her short hair was messy, her eyes a deep blue and her face covered in freckles. She looked great.

“I— Yes, I just found this cat and I wasn’t sure where I should take it. I was hoping you might be able to check if it’s alright. This was the only place I can think of.”  

The woman opened the door further, revealing her white coat. She looked taller than Nancy had taken her for at first glance. Maybe she had been crouching. Or maybe Nancy hadn’t been paying attention. Either way, she was tall. She had freckles all over her face which somehow drew Nancy’s attention in, and short, auburn? Blonde? hair. She looked nice, she looked sweet, and she beckoned Nancy in.

“We’ll have a look.”

Nancy followed blindly, pushing the door closed with her body.

“You caught me just at the right time. I was about to leave actually. Anyway, my name is Robin, as you can see on the nametag.” Robin held up the left corner of her doctor’s coat.

“I’m Nancy. I’m sorry to keep you here. Like I said, I wasn’t sure where else to go.”

“Oh, no, that is alright. I’ll just have a quick look and then I can call Steve at the shelter if you want.”

Nancy looked at the kitten. She wasn’t sure she wanted to let go. She also didn’t want to admit it but keeping the cat could be a great excuse to see Robin again. “I think I might keep it.”

“Her.”

“What?”

“Her, the cat, it’s a little lady.” Robin inspected the cat. Her long slender fingers pushing through the fur. “What are you gonna name her?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know.” Nancy shuffled on her feet. She felt like she was standing in front of a full auditorium having to give a presentation she did not prepare for. She had been through that one too many times before.

“That’s alright. You can take her home and think about it.” Robin stepped back, writing something down on a clipboard but Nancy’s eyes were still glued on her fingers.

“Yeah,” she muttered absentmindedly. She kind of wished she could take Robin home too.

“Well, here you go. She is all good, I wrote down all the information on this sheet as well as my number and Steve’s in case you change your mind.”

“Thank you.” Nancy grabbed the piece of paper before pulling the cat back into her arms. “It was lovely meeting you. And maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” Robin smiled brightly. Nancy almost didn’t want to leave.

“I’ll see you around.”

[33max]

Day Six, Coming in Public - Summer of Cum 🤍

It’s the adrenaline, Daniel thinks, that makes them both so into this. The thrill of possibly being caught in the act, or someone spotting them doing the walk of shame out of public bathrooms.

All of it satisfies that adrenaline junkie inside of him, and really it is not that surprising that he and Max get off on this, both addicted to the rush that comes with their job. Always seeking new ways to find that hit, new ways to fuel the fire in their bellies.

Daniel has a mental list of all of the places they’ve done this, and another of places to check off. He knows Max has one too, he’s just as into it as Daniel, maybe even more so.

Max had hooked a finger through the belt loops on Daniel’s jeans as soon as they landed at Nice airport, tugging Daniel towards the nearest bathrooms. Daniel knew exactly what Max wanted, he’d been pretty much begging for it the entire flight home, turned on after his latest win.

So here they are. In a bathroom stall of Nice airport, not that far from home, making their chauffeur wait for them.

Max is bent over, hands gripping the back of the toilet, while Daniel fucks into the space between his thighs from behind. They don’t have the time or the supplies to stretch Max open, so this will have to do.

They’re both fully clothed, ready to make a quick escape if needed. Daniel’s jeans and briefs pulled down just enough to get his cock out, and Max’s pooled around his knees. Their clothes serve as a good reminder that they shouldn’t be doing this, that they could get caught, they might need to pull their jeans up any second now.

Max has clamped his thick thighs together for Daniel, his cock smearing precome over the soft skin there, slicking the way.

“Shhh,” Daniel whispers to Max, who doesn’t even bother keeping quiet when they do this. The more Daniel tells him to quiet down, the louder Max will get, just how Daniel likes it.

Someone could walk in at any moment, use the urinal, or even the stall next to them. It’s happened before, but it’s never stopped them, instead turning them on even more – forcing them into near-silent orgasms.

“Touch my hole,” Max begs. He needs something, anything, while Daniel fucks his thighs. The way Daniel’s cock is nudging his balls on each thrust just isn’t enough.

Of course Daniel obliges, they never drag this out.

He places the pad of his thumb against Max’s hole, not pressing in, but putting pressure there. Enough to have Max whining and begging for more.

Only when Daniel is close, slicking up the space between Max’s thighs, does Daniel reach around to jerk Max off. His pretty little cock is so neglected and sensitive. As soon as he gets a hand on Max’s dick his hips are bucking wildly, his back arching, and his thighs spasming around Daniel as they both topple over the edge and into orgasm.

It’s messy, Max’s cock spurting onto the floor of the bathroom as Daniel’s blurts all over Max’s thighs. Coating the soft hairs there.

They never clean up.

Max simply pulls his jeans up, thighs still covered in Daniel’s come, dick still half hard. Then they walk out of the bathroom together, looking freshly fucked and high on adrenaline.

[unsanitarystation]

Prowl is so empty on fuel and so dehydrated I'm so glad ratchet immediately hooks him up. If Prowl thought he was messy before, the moment his systems actually start receiving proper fuel, his mess gets so much worse. He's just constantly leaking and pissing all over the med berth now.

This time he's finally stopped resisting. He has marked his Prime as his mate and he wants to keep it that way. He needs to drown his mate and his nest in his scent.

Ratchet swears as he tries to check Prowl's systems, which Prowl makes very difficult by not listening and constantly just trying to paw at his new mate. He keeps having to force Prowl back down, shoving his servos wherever they have to go to be able to check on Prowl.

The touches make the poor bot in heat arch into them and moan. It doesn't matter that he already has a mate, he also wants Ratchet. He could have both. He could take both their spikes. He could take them at once.

Just the thought alone, the thought of being stuffed ao full of two thick spikes, makes Prowl keen and roll his hips, pushing out another gush of liquid.

Ratchet gets grumpier by the minute as he confirms that each of Prowl's subsystems have seen better days. The combination of low fuel, inefficient cooling and lubrication, and excess charge means everything is in pretty poor condition.

The fuel he's dealing with. The cooling and lubrication will sort itself out once Prowl starts processing and absorbing the liquid from the fuel, but... he could speed it up.

Ratchet uses his medical overrides to transform away certain patches of armour, making quick work of applying new coats of grease to joints and topping up on coolant in coolant tanks. Prowl keens so loud and squirms. Every brush to his gears and motors, every cold infusion of coolant- It's so much physical stimulus that he's been craving for days

Of course then there's the excess charge. Of course the idiot Prowl wasn't able to overload himself hard enough to truly dissipate the charges. Ratchet takes the matter into his own hands, literally, and starts fingering the tactician.

Poor Optimus looks pretty shocked and maybe also mortified when he gets front row seats to watching his SIC get fingerfucked in his sopping wet valve

Oh Prowl wails the moment the first two digits enter him. He wails and jerks his hips down so hard and almost immediately overloads, shaking as his frame convulses and Ratchet continues to fuck him on his fingers. Every time his fingers go in, wetness squelches out, a sticky mess of lubricant and waste fluids. It sounds obscene along with Prowl's enthusiastic noises echoing in the empty medbay.

Ratchet is a professional after all and pushes Prowl into overload a few times in quick succession. He notes that the charge does go down slightly.... but it's not good enough. He gives Optimus a look, and poor OP looks back with wide optics like 'me?' whilst also being very pink the cheeks from the energon in his lines.

Even though Optimus has been quiet, the heat has really been affecting him. The moment he had smelt and laid optics upon Prowl in the hallway, his modesty panels had immediately pinged to retract. But there were more important things at stake. He knew Prowl would have needed a doctor in the state he was in. It would also he unbecoming of him to take advantage of his old friend like this........ But now that Prowl's desperate pleas are supplemented by Ratchet's look... well.... it's not looking very good for Prime in the self restraint department

It doesn't help when, apparently now fueled, Prowl suddenly has the strength to finally sit up and all but tumbles off the berth onto Prime's lap. The wet heat of his exposed valve grinds down against Optimus' manually locked panels. He knew if he had left them to normal protocol, there's no way they would not have popped by now

His spike pings him incessantly in an attempt to pressurise. It pushes against his modesty plating with such force that it hurts. More warnings for an emergency panel release are popping up. All of this gets worse as Prowl whimpers Optimus' name and starts nuzzling into his neck, sniffing him, and continuing to rock his hips whilst leaking all over his commander.

Prowl looks up at him, still looking up despite sitting in Prime's lap, and gives him such sad pleading optics. He's desperate. He whines and begs and tells his leader how much it hurts.

He needs it. Please. He needs his good and strong mate to take care of him. He'll be so good. He promises. He just wants to be taken care of.

Prowl leans in, pressing his faceplates into Prime's neck cabling. "Optimus..." he whimpers, a desperate plea, "please... I need you...."

Prime's resolve finally snaps and his panels retract with a click. He grabs Prowl by the hips (gently, but Prowl yowls at the contact anyway), and shifts him forward slightly so that Prime's spike pressurises directly into Prowls aching and swollen valve

Prowl screams then. He screams until his vocaliser cuts out into static

AAAaah I can't stop thinking about needy, squirmy Prowl forcefully pissing all over the bed, trying to mark both Optimus and now Ratchet with his scent... he's just so far gone that his processor is only focused on mating, no clear thought in mind, no room for shame. Ratchet has a horrible time getting to his medical ports when Prowl won't stop moving. Thankfully, he doesn't necessarily take issue with being pinned down. In fact, he likes it. He likes it a lot.

hrghh the moment Optimus' spike slips into him, Prowl's valve squeezes and refuses to let go. It almost hurts, after such a long time of uselessly fingering himself until he passed out, his pussy is so needy that when it finally got what it needed, it got confused. He's a drooling, dumb thing in Optimus' arms, grinding his aching valve against his spike until he manages to milk out all his transfluid. Poor Optimus... he did not sign up for this, but what wouldn't he do to help out a soldier in need? If getting his lap completely soaked is the price of Prowl's wellbeing, then fine...

Awww, but I do want to imagine that while Prowl's charge does go down, his heat hasn't subsided in the slightest. Cybertronian heats are long, and he's just hit his peak, and will stay there for a while. Ratchet has to keep him quarantined, and when the Prime is not around... he has to keep his satisfied, too. He tried to resist at first, that was his patient and he obviously wasn't thinking clearly... but who wouldn't get turned on if they walked into the room and the moment that needy, horny thing noticed them, he started to gush piss all over the berth uncontrollably, inviting them in...

[sunwarmed-ash]

For my patient babies 😘👀💙

The Eden Club smutty preview 😘🔞😈

The glass door to Connor’s room opens as soon as Gavin gets within walking distance and slaps closed when he steps out of range. Inside the soundproof room he’s instanty assaulted with the pronographic sounds of their roboboyfriend, still being broken again and again over Hank’s cock. 

“Gavin! Gavin please,” Connor begs, eyes immediately finding his and pleading for mercy. Hank’s got him good and worked up, and it was a hell of a view. Hank’s grunts as he surely tries to hold himself from unloading into that tight, slick ass. Gavin understands, its phcking nirvana. 

“Yeah baby?” he coos and Connor looks so thoroughly fucked out it makes his cock ache. 

“pleasepleasepleasecanIcum?” he sobs out, all one word, and grabs onto anything he can reach as Hank’s thrusts just don't stop. Hank’s dick is probably more than Connor’s body was ever designed to take and that’s so phcking hot to think about.    

“Not yet baby. Let me get over there.”

Connor sobs as another denied orgasm leaves his body twitching and Hank groans as Connor’s channel tightens around him. 

“So good Con,” Hank praises and Gavin watches the android phcking beam. 

Gavin makes quick work of tearing off his own clothes before wrapping his hand around Connor’s lube-slicked, silicone cock. 

“Ready baby?” Gavin asks.

“Pl-eas-ee,” Connor begs, before his eyes open and catches the matching bars through Gavin’s nipples. His pupils dilate. Gavin wishes more than anything he could take a picture. It was a hell of a life accomplishment. ‘The moment he rendered the most advanced android speechless.’   

“Like em?” He chuckles. 

Connor nods and Hank finally looks over his shoulder to see what Con was referring to. 

“When the hell did you get those?”

“Couple years ago,” Gavin shrugs, pumping his hand up and down Connor’s slicked up cock. “I don’t always wear ‘em though. They phcking hurt under Kevlar.” 

“Fair ‘nough,” Hank chuckles.

“Pleaseee, come on,” Connor whimpers and their attention goes right back to Connor. 

“Go ahead Sweetheart, you’ve been so fucking good,” Hank agrees and that’s it. 

Connor’s body twitches hard, and his voice comes out pure static. Gavin for a moment is worried he’s going to shut down again, but his eyes flutter close and his face looks pinched as the hardest parts of his orgasm wash over him. 

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou'' Connor sobs on repeat, still thrusting up into Gavin's tight fist as his continuous orgasm coats both their bodies. It leaves them sticky and messy and,

“Fucking beautiful,” Hank growls.

“He really is.” Gavin can’t help but agree. 

“Pl-ease,” Connor continues to beg. Even as his body trembles as it attempts to recenter itself. 

Check back sunday night for the full chapter!

[saintsir4n]

4

___

1914

BEING a nurse was harder than Eden thought.

It'd been two years since she started at the hospital and because her mother was a matron, they rarely worked with one another.

Instead, she regularly saw a sea of white long gowns, that never stayed white for long.

She was exhausted, but she promised Tommy a date and she always came through on her promises.

So she told him that she would meet him by the bridge not far from the canal, knowing he would wait all day outside her house as if he didn't have a job of his own. God that man knew how to obsess over things, sometimes she didn't know whether or not he wanted her or loved her.

She would drive herself mad trying to understand the mind of Tommy Shelby.

Coming up to the canal, she removed her bib and placed it into her purse and discarded it, not wanting to be covered in any more bodily fluids since there was a cold going around and she heard that Ada and Finn already caught it, she'd been working hard to prevent it from spreading, but it was inevitable.

Eden already dropped some soup off at Dorris' since her mother was under the weather. Luckily Eden's father brought a new bedframe by the Martin's home so Dorris could have a good night's rest.

Eden tugged on her coat as she neared the spot, she was surprised they were having a date there because that is where Tommy, Freddie Thorne and Greta Jurossi hung out and sometimes even just Tommy and Greta.

Eden couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable whenever she heard that they were alone together, away from the prying eyes of Birmingham. She's a friend, was what he always said in response, but she never truly believe it.

Putting aside those feelings, she took out her miniature mirror and checked her hair she had curled using a hot comb, but it had unfortunately gotten slightly messy because of the caduceus she wore.

"Fuck," she quickly moved some strands and applied the red lipstick she took out.

Smacking her lips, she put away the mirror and rolled her eyes at the passers-by.

She internally smiled at the thought of seeing Tommy, it even made her heart skip.

Readjusting her coat for the second time she rounded the corner, coming closer to the bridge.

But when she saw something, Eden's head spun.

The sight she stumbled upon had her rapidly blinking.

It was Tommy and Greta...

Hugging under the archway.

He whispered something in her ear, making her laugh and push him away.

Eden narrowed her eyes when Tommy playfully nudged her to the side.

The two friends were brought out of their bubble until Eden stepped closer, the sounds of her shows slapping the cobblestones made them turn towards her.

Greta immediately waved at her, though her smile faltered when Tommy grinned. Eden forced herself to wave back at the Italian woman, whose alluring eyes and winning grin made pretty much anyone flock in her direction.

Quickly saying goodbye to her best friend, Greta went the opposite way, revealing the picnic laid out by a table that was dragged there by the Shelby man.

"Look at you," Tommy was quick to pull Eden in, wickedly racking his eyes up at now her appearance, oh did he love her nurse's outfit, similar to how she adored how effortlessly he wore a suit. He locked onto her red lips, even biting down on his, trying to stop the impending thoughts go straight to his slacks. "Bet your patients loved this eh?" he asked, trying to sound more jovial than irritated, but she read him with ease.

"Yeah whilst they were throwin' up on me, they were really captivated by all of this–"

He smashed his lips onto hers, silencing her sarcasm and drawing her in. Her hands latched onto his lapels, while her purse dropped near the picnic table. He cupped the back of her head, careful not to mess up hair her, God, he knew better than to move a strand out of place and that he needed to control himself. He wanted to just show the effort he went through for her, but she looked so... riveting.

Just as their tongues lapped over one another, he reluctantly pulled away, leaving her to wipe away the lipstick from the corner of his lips and he did the same for her, despite how much he wished he didn't.

Her breathing went back to normal, but he took a little while longer, causing Eden to realise how worked up the man was. It'd only been a day or two since he told her about their impending date, whilst she invited him into her house so he could apologise for being so aggravating. He sure was on his knees for most of that...discussion.

"Here you go," he picked up the flowers he picked from some florist Polly forced him to go to after he just said he would pick them out of Mrs Granberry's yard, "remember you sayin' you liked flowers that grow in the cold, 'cause–"

"--if they can survive English weather they can survive anything." she grinned at the primroses he gave her. "They're beautiful Tommy."

"Glad you like them," he watched as she smelled them, then turned to see the picnic setting,

"Like it? Etta helped set it up, didn't want me to tell ya though," he asked, picking up her purse and nodding over to the table, full of some fruits, some sandwiches he made under Polly's guidance, some squash and even her favourite cake.

"She helped?" Eden tried to not sound too irked by the mention of the woman who was only heard a couple of moments prior, she's his best mate, just like Freddie is...but why wasn't Freddie there also?

Tommy beamed, "She did, so you like it?"

He made sure to help her down onto the stool that was next to his, even pressing another kiss to her hand and winking went she sat down, causing a blush to kiss her already heated cheeks.

He slowly pulled the table in front of them, hoping the checkered cloth he borrowed didn't shift because that was all he needed. Then he took the flowers and set them down, so she grab whatever food she wanted.

Eden nodded, smiling when she noticed her treats, "I like it Tom, you even got my favourite cake."

His smile widened at her squeal, "' Course, I did."

Her brows suddenly furrowed, "But the bakery it's in Little Italy?" and the Shelbys tended to stay away from there.

"And don't I know it? Told Etta to get it."

He asked his best friend to get it for him because it was close to where she lived and he wanted to avoid getting a mean bruise just before his date with Eden. Even though it was a quarter piece of cake and he spent more than five bobs for this - usually for a couple of pennies he could get it half anywhere else - but for Eden, he spent it because she deserved it.

He didn't see her smile slightly falter, "Oh, that's lovely."

"Your hair is curled." he noticed, smiling and hoping he didn't say the wrong thing.

A chuckle escaped her, "Like it?"

"Always," he responded in a slight daze, before nodding to the table in front of them, "Tuck in, want me to tell you 'bout my day?"

Reaching for the slice of cake she nodded, "Yeah."

So he did, informing her how he and John took little Katie to the Garrison because she wouldn't stop crying, even rubbing gin over her gums when they noticed she was teething and that's what worked with Ada and Finn. shortly after he mentioned Shadow and how doesn't shake as much anymore, but he occasionally does when they have to remove his shoes.

He was adamant about her telling him about hers, so she did, even letting him know that the cold that everyone seemed to be getting was merely seasonal and nothing harmful, only a few could risk something far worse if it wasn't treated. She informed him that another one of her patients succumbed to their illness shortly after they were admitted, and he tried his best to comfort her.

He brushed off the crumbs around her endearing lips as she relaid her day, drawing a begrudging smile from her when he consumed some.

Eden quickly realised that he wasn't eating, he smoked more than ate she thought, but he prepared a spread for them and he hoped he would have at least something.

"Have some Tom, you said you didn't eat much today."

"Already ate earlier..." he quietly admitted, noting her narrowing eyes.

"With Greta?" her tone lowered.

"Yeah, just before she helped me set this up."

He caught tensing of her jaw, which confused him.

Soon Eden turned away from him, placing down the cake, making Tommy question if he did something wrong.

"What?"

She waved him off, still avoiding his eyes, "Nothing, keep telling me about Shadow, does he miss me?"

Grabbing her chin, Tommy made sure her eyes were on his, "Eden. Don't, don't do that."

"Do what?"

"What's the matter?" he didn't understand why she was off with him now.

"Nothing."

Groaning, he let her chin go, "Here we fuckin' go."

"What?" she asked, recoiling when he huffed.

"Tell me what's wrong. Is it the flowers? they'll die soon but I'll just buy another."

"It's not the flowers they're lovely," she replied, itching to scratch at the skin around her nails out of pure discomfort.

"Spit it out, I don't want the date ruined because of your mood," he said, finally having enough.

She tossed her arms up, "Fine. Do you like Greta?"

"What?" his sudden laughter made her turn and get up, but he pulled back down before she could, "Come here, I'm laughin' because I was shocked alright."

"Answer the question," he raised a brow at the seriousness of her tone.

"Fuck, I don't like Greta. Why do you think I do?"

"You're close," she stated like it was obvious.

"So you have a problem with me being friends with a girl? But I can't with you and Enzo?" he asked, starting to get more and more frustrated.

Eden averted her eyes at his point. Enzo wasn't interested in her or any girl for that matter, but she couldn't tell Tommy that, that would go against their friendship and she wouldn't risk that, not even to win some stupid squabble.

"That's different," she mumbled, earning a scoff from him.

"And why is that? You keep saying it's different but it's fuckin' not."

Tommy disliked Enzo for a multitude of reasons, one being the fact he was a link that would always pull Eden back to Luca and the thought of her being in proximity to her ex-boyfriend drove him to tug at his hair and reach for a shotgun.

Eden shrugged, "It is."

His nostrils flared, "Is it, fuck."

"It just is. Forget I ever asked you," She said, returning to the food and nodding, but Tommy wasn't having it.

"You want me to be more open and you won't be," he stated definitively, much to her annoyance,

"I am," she lied.

"It's about communication Tommy, you have to communicate," he mocked her by imitating her voice and Eden couldn't help but laugh.

She shot him a glance "I don't sound like that."

"Sure you don't," he playfully rolled his eyes and tugged her closer, softly grabbing the back of her neck, "I don't like Greta, because I fuckin' love you."

Her mouth gaped open at his confession, he said what? She blinked a few times, to try and come to terms with what he said, even her eyes darted all around to make sure she was really there. Tommy caught her pinching her arm a few times and he thought it was adorable.

"You what?" she whispered.

He let his emotions show, usually, he would trace the words over her hands without her noticing but he wanted her to know.

"I was gonna write this down, Pol was gonna make it look all fancy but –"

"You love me?" she asked again, wanting to hear it roll off his tongue.

"That I do," he answered, swiping his thumb over her cheekbones, feeling them grow as she grinned.

Wanting him to repeat it a few more times, Eden played dumb, "What?"

"have gone deaf or what?"

"You love me?"

"I love you," he confessed again, slightly growing nervous when she wasn't returning the sentiment, nevertheless he grabbed her legs and placed them on his before his hands dropped to her sides, gripping her waist after she's snaked around his neck, despite the table sides digging into them.

"Why?"

"Why? Fuck sake, why? Because you make my fucking head spin Eden Dawkins that's why."

Butterflies took flight in her stomach. Her nerves were all over the place, just like his.

"And that's why you love me, how's that?" she teased, despite herself.

"The bloody thing hasn't spun before, my heart beats faster with you, told Pol I thought I was having a stroke and she laughed at me."

She feigned offence, "So Pol told you that you loved me?"

"Now you know no one can tell me to do or say a single thing that I don't wanna do."

She clicked her tongue, "Except for Polly."

"And you," he murmured, pressing his head against hers.

"And Ada... Greta..."

"Eden it's you. I love you, gonna make me lose my mind if I have to explain more, now are you going to say it back or what?" he asked, impatiently.

Her happiness was undeniable.

She launched forward and pressed her lips to his.

Tommy cupped the back of her head, feeling everything all at once, all the love, affection and care spread over his body as he held his woman in his arms. He never looked at a girl the way he looked at Eden, he didn't think it was possible, knowing that never once had he ever been in love before, despite what he claimed to his past flings. He knew she looked at him with the same adoration, even how her brown pools glistened whenever he neared.

Eyes never lied.

Eden felt like crying when she felt all the tingles shooting down her spine.

"I'll take that as yes, you love me?" he mumbled against her lips.

"I love you, Thomas Shelby," she giggled when he gulped at the sentiment spilling from her lips, "Cat your tongue ay? When have you ever been speechless?"

He said nothing and instead pressed his head to hers once again, breathing in the anaesthetic on her clothes and the cedarwood emitting from her neck, my haven. In all honesty, Tommy was surprised her could confess his feelings without needing a glass of whiskey. Deep down he knew Eden was better than him, that she deserved better than him but he was selfish and he wouldn't let her go, he would be an idiot if he did.

"All those days goin' to church finally workin'."

"You prayed f'me to be with you huh?"

He huffed out a chuckle, "Is that a problem now, like some sort of a curse?"

"Blessin', it's a blessin'," she quickly corrected himself.

"I'm a blessin' am I? I would say it's the other way around, you're a haven you know that?"

She playfully shrugged, "I've been told."

"Well not by me you 'aven't, so I'm telling you, mark my words... you Eden Mary Dawkins are my fuckin' Haven."

She sniffled, "Oh, Tommy..."

"Wait a second would ya?" He said, pulling out a box from his pocket, drawing a wide eye expression, "It's not a ring, not yet anyways," he chuckled at the relief flooding her face, "somethin' I think you'll like more but just wait."

"O-Okay." her heart was hammering against her chest.

Swiping a cigarette against his lips, he waited for her to light it, which she did, before he blew out a large cloud of smoke, that drifted away like the water in the cut.

"Listen, I've got you somethin' and it's special, it's an heirloom alright?"

"Then what are you givin' it to me for?"

"Because you, my darlin', are my future, so when we go off and get hitched, you'll pass this down to our kids and so on."

Her eyes glistened, "Tommy...I... what is it?"

Taking another drag, he placed the box in her quivering hands and once he threw an arm around her shoulder, making some of her nervousness fade.

She opened the box with one last look at him before a gasp escaped her lips.

"Pol saved a bunch of things of mums, made sure we never touched 'em and she was right to keep them away, they would've been fucked in seconds if we got over hands on anythin' like this."

Eden hadn't taken her eyes off the necklace of the black Madonna. The dark features of the virgin Mary holding a baby Jesus. When she was younger she was told by her godfather Jeremiah how the black Madonna could grant special blessings when she was evoked by prayer. Now she wasn't religious, and Tommy knew that, but to him and his Romani culture, the Black Madonna had other great significance even going back to the tenth century.

Tommy continued to explain, "It's the Black Madonna, for protection, Mum used to wear it before she had Finn, and when she stopped, she got bad, sick, never left her bed until..." Clearing his front he moved on, "Ada had no interest in it," and she told me to give it to you. "Wanted you to 'ave it, somethin' pretty to go with that pretty neck."

Growing up as travellers, his parents were on the road until they finally settled in Small Heath, but that didn't stop the trouble following them. Polly told them it was part of them, that they would always be at a disadvantage until they did something about it. The betting shop was only the beginning.

"Tommy," she choked back a sob, getting his attention.

"Yeah? You don't like it."

"Me likin' it ain't the matter, it's beautiful, I bet your mum did it justice," she said, her thumb stroking over the metal.

"That she did." he put out the rest of the cigarette.

"I can't accept this," it was far too special to her and although she knew they were in love, she didn't think he would give her something like this.

"You can and you'll wear it," he wiped away the tear that escaped her eyes as he left no room for argument. Plucking it from her hands, he gently placed it around her neck and smiled, it looked perfect to him, "there you go."

"I'll never take it off then," she promised, glancing down at the necklace.

"You better not," she detected the seriousness and slight fear in his voice making her nod.

She allowed him the rest of her cake, whilst she ate some berries. He glanced at the necklace a few times, since it hadn't been worn in years, it would just take him some getting used to.

"Good?" she asked, noting him enjoying the taste.

"See why you like it," he muffled.

"You never told me your favourite flavour of cake y'know?" she paused, "just so I know for your birthday."

He smirked, "Ain't it obvious?"

"What is it?" she leaned forward, wiping the crumbs from his lips.

His eyes glimmered with lust, "chocolate."

Eden rolled her eyes and tried to turn away from his piercing stare, "Don't look at me like that," but he grabbed her face, staring deep into her eyes which made her sheepishly laugh. "Christ Tommy, stop."

"Why would I when you look like that?"

Ignoring his compliment, she shook her head, "I can tell what that look means."

"And what does it mean then?" he teased, cocking his head to the side.

"You know what, but if you think we're 'avin' sex here, you're out of your mind."

"You think I would strip your clothes where anyone can see you? See my lady, you're out of your fuckin' mind."

"Oh, that's right I forgot how much jealousy is confined to such a small frame," she blurted out.

He scrunched up his face, "I'm not jealous – wait a minute did you say small?"

"My short man," she poked his cheek and attempted to escape his grasp.

"Eh? The fuck did you just say? Eden, come here!" he pulled her back in, "I'm short, is that what you're tryin' to say to me? Well, I'll let the whole Lane know which short man's name you love to scream and moan, I'll do it."

"Go ahead, I'll wear like like a badge," she said, getting up in his face, "you're mine just as I'm yours, Tommy Shelby."

"Got that fuckin' right."

He did not doubt that because he thought now they were in love, it would make things a little bit easier.

"That I do," she tried to imitate him, even lowering her voice, earning a deadpanned looked from him.

"I don't sound like that."

"You do," she nodded.

"Let me stick to doin' voices, whilst you save lives, deal?"

"No deal, but there is one more thing I wanted to ask you."

"What?"

"I want to learn how to use a gun, properly."

He snickered, "Bout time you asked, whole of Birmingham knows you can't shoot."

"Oh fuck off."

—

"You love me..." Eden spoke to Tommy now they were back at his home, luckily John and Arthur were at the betting shop, Finn was over at the Jesus', Martha had taken Katie to her mother's and Ada was helping Polly with food shopping. "So you're goin' to get up and dance with me."

Tommy ran his hands through his freshly trimmed hair, he had the sides shaved for the date, despite Eden liking it grown out. Now that they were inside their coats were off, his cap was on the table and their shoes by the door.

Eden skipped across the room, pulling out the gramophone that rested on the side of the living room.

Tommy prayed no one came home at this very moment.

"Now you have to ask me," Eden insisted, turning to him when My Heart Still Clings to You by Albert Ketèlbey started to play much to his chagrin. Tommy wished he took a hammer to that thing years ago.

Truthfully he hadn't danced with a woman he loved since his mum.

He huffed, "I don't dance."

Eden gave him a pointed look, "But you know how to, don't ya? Or should I ask Pol if she taught ya?"

Rising from the couch he shook his head, "Don't ask her."

"And why shouldn't I?"

"Fine let's dance," he took her hand and wrapped an arm around her waist, attempting not to feel her up, he was just too tempted.

She pouted, "Not until you say it."

"I know how to dance," a grin broke out on her face when he took her hand, "Come on you brat."

She smacked his chest, "Thomas."

"Sorry, I forgot to add 'beautiful' to that."

A smile graces her face, "Just how I like it."

"I bet you do," they started moving to the beat.

"But you still haven't properly asked me."

"We're already dancing," his words made her halt her movements and frown, "Miss Eden Dawkins, would you do me the honour of havin' this dance?"

"Yes, yes I will."

She dramatically gasped, taking his hand once again. Tommy couldn't stop smiling at her. He would only dance for her.

They swayed to the rhythm which caught her off guard because she was surprised he knew how to stay on it.

Laying her head on his chest, he began muttering things in her ear, making her laugh which in turn made him chuckle.

Moments like this mess were special to him and her.

In their hectic life, they rarely had moments that resembled peace.

All the noise that was Small Heath, the smoke and tediousness that came along with it.

They were so engorged in each other and the melody that had become their bubble they hadn't noticed the front door open.

"Oi John boy, little Edie's got Tommy dancin', she has!" A loud voice that belonged to none other than Arthur caused them to freeze.

"Should've locked that fuckin' door," Tommy sighed, resting his head in the crook of Eden's neck.

John came around the corner, laughing at the song playing, "Give him a minute he'll be skippin' and singin' songs."

"Don't you lot have anythin' better to do?" Eden groaned, turning in Tommy's hold and facing the smirking pair.

"They'll be dancin' in the rain next," Arthur joked.

Tommy glared, "Fuck off!"

John settled his gaze on Eden, "Aren't you a sight Edie, don't know what you see in my brother."

"Oi!"

"Well I'm with 'im," she spoke, grimacing at the way John was letting his eyes wander up and down her body, she could feel Tommy tense behind her. "and you have a wife."

John winked, "Not if you wanted a go."

Arthur shoved his brother backwards when he caught the glint in Tommy's eye after he moved around his girlfriend.

"Run Johnny!"

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

a/n:

thought this was a cute little chapter for Tommy and Eden, despite the minor angst between the two. they are both jealous people, well Tommy more than her, but oh well.

i was looking long and hard for multiple meanings behind the black Madonna, if I made any mistakes just let me know, also the necklace does play a big part in their story.

[aehyei]

Do a jeno ver pls?🥺🥺🥺🥺

[11:58 AM]  “This is messed up shit.” Brother’s best friend!Jeno groaned but climbed with you at the backseat of his car anyways. You straddled his waist and licked your lips, feeling the excitement bubbling on the pit of your stomach.

“But I can be messier,” you giggle, sucking on his fingers when he tapped your chin. 

The boy uncomfortably shifted on his seat, his dick hardening at how you suck on his fingers so messily, saliva coating his skin. “You really are a slut, huh? What’s your step-brother gonna think of you seeing his little baby sister all messy like this, hmm?” 

Nothing has happened yet but you were already moaning in pleasure. Jeno let out a mocking laugh, thrusting up to hit your clothed clit with his obvious hard on. 

“J-Jeno, p-please, fuck me. Please, please.” You begged, hiccuping with every thrust. It hurt your feelings when he only snickered, appearing to be not as affected as you are. “I’ll be so good for you, please, please.” 

Jeno licked his lips, his hand gripping tightly on your waist, pulling you down until you pressed down on him. He ignored the dirty glare you gave him, clicking on his tongue as he shamelessly checked you out. “Mhm? Baby, don’t give me that look, only bad girls do that. You aren’t my bad girl, are you?”

You whinnied loudly, wiggling against his lap to feel any friction to cure the ache in between your thighs. Jeno didn’t look happy from how impatient you were acting, tightening his hold on your hips that you were sure would bruise in the morning. 

“J-Jeno…” You squirm, suddenly feeling small from his stare.

“Are you a bad girl, Y/n?” He hisses, fingers going down to ghost your clothed slit. His ego was sure fed well when he felt how wet you were even if he barely did anything. 

Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes in frustration, biting your lip so hard that you tasted blood. Jeno’s eyes might’ve darken that he leaned in and licked the blood, making you moan out loud in surprise. 

Fuck, that was hot.

“Answer the fucking question, slut. Or are you just that stupid?” Jeno snapped, one hand gripping your ass too tightly and the other now stuffed inside your panties, rubbing quick circles on your clit. 

“N-No! N-Not—s-stupid!” You manage to let out, hips moving on its own accord. His movements were so fast that it felt like vibrations. Your legs start to shake as you continuously gasp at the feeling. 

“Hm? Really? Not stupid. Well then, you must be a very, very bad girl,” Jeno licked his lips, harshly tapping your clit before withdrawing his fingers, his chest shaking with laughter when you frustratedly cried out, “Wanna call your brother and show him how bad you are? How much of a cockslut you are, huh?” 

At this point, you were very much desperate for anything. So not thinking much of it, you nodded your head and blabbered “yes” all over again and again. 

“Hello? Jeno?”

Your eyes shot open hearing your step-brother’s voice from the phone, pure shock freezing you. You looked at the cocky smirk dancing around Jeno’s lips, his eyebrow raised before entering a finger right into you, settling in a pace so quick you were sure you were starting to get lucid. 

“Hi Jaem,” Jeno inhaled sharply when you moaned silently, “guess which slut came for a good fucking.” 

Step-brother!Jaemin’s eyes widened to hear your voice, pleading for Jeno to touch you more. Then a huge smirk left his lips before letting out a deep chuckle, running his fingers through his hair, “Fuck her really well, Jen. Make sure she screams, wanna hear it all.”